Episode 50
... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy
Part IX - "Red Montego"
Norman Napoleon Kay may not have the greatest business sense, but he learns his lessons. When, after being mugged, shot at, kidnapped, threatened, and deprived of $50,000, a superhero tells him to skedaddle, he skedaddles. Norman took his Willy Webster Treat Wagon and retreated to his favourite ice cream peddling spot, at the foot of the Beast in Municipal Square. Sure, in the middle of the day business would be slow, but Norman decided he'd take quiet and perfectly safe any day.
And that's the way it worked out, at least up until five minutes ago.
Norman blinked in disbelief when he saw the centaur leaping across the intersection. Normally he would have dismissed it as trick of the light, but not more than an hour ago a guy with wings had tried to kill him. He found himself willing to give centaurs a fair chance. Next a speeding car nearly smashed into his truck head-on. Norman dived under the counter and shut his eyes, sure that now he was hallucinating - he thought he'd seen Kentaro, the winged guy who wanted to kill him, driving the car. The impact he was bracing himself for didn't come, but the outside world exploded in a cacophony of screeching tires and crashing metal. Then he heard a tremendous crunch nearby, the deafening roar of a truck's engine brakes, and then the blare of a broken car horn. This ended with a loud BANG, and then, finally, silence.
Hands shaking, Norman slowly climbs out from under the counter. Looking out the service window, he can see nothing but an enormous grill, with a silver White Star logo in the center. All the blood in his body seems to drain to his feet, and he stares shell-shocked. He can feel the heat radiating from the over-taxed engine.
The door of the ice cream truck flies open, and a ruffled Deuterium Boy pokes his head in.
Deuterium Boy
Hey... Norman?!
Norman
HAAAAA....
Deuterium Boy
Are you okay?
Norman
AAAA....
HHHAAEEERRR....
Deuterium Boy jumps inside and, gently taking Norman by the arm, leads him out of the truck.
Outside, chaos reigns. The War Rig, its front end bent out of shape and engine steaming, rests centimeters away from the ice cream truck. A crumpled tan Chrysler is smashed against the base pylons of the Beast clock, at least one of which seems to be bent at an unhealthy angle. A large crowd has gathered at the edge of the square, staring with mingled fascination and horror at the spectacular crash which ended not one but two chases, which together spanned the whole city from east to west. Police sirens can be heard coming from two directions.
After checking his outside sensors for signs of a weapons or fuel leak, Chuck War climbs down out of the War Rig. He spots Special Agent Parker and three other plainclothes cops gathered around the Chrysler. One he recognizes as Peterson, a Lieutenant with the Mission RCMP detachment. The other two - a slightly overweight, middle-aged man, and a younger man with a dark complexion - he doesn't recognize. Peterson manages to pull the police radio free of the wreckage and starts fiddling with it, while the others check themselves for damage.
Chuck runs over to them as Hydrogen Guy climbs out of the War Rig, scowling at everything within scowling distance.
Chuck War
Special Agent Parker... Are you
okay?
Parker
War! No, dammit, we're not okay! I scuffed my
new Tony Lamas! Peterson! You get the plate number on that centaur?
Peterson
I'm on it...
The older of the two strangers man spoke to Parker.
Ford
You know these people?
Hydrogen Guy walks up next to Chuck War. He scowls at the two newcomers.
Hydrogen Guy
Of course he does.
Parker
Agent Ford, this is Hydrogen Guy.
Hydrogen Guy favours Ford with an extra-special scowl.
Suddenly, something metallic groans behind them. Ford's partner shouts a warning. They look up, and see the mighty Beast slowly tipping over. The damaged pylon has started to buckle. The group scrambles out of the way, just as the entire structure tips over.
CRUNCH!
The main body of the clock bangs up against the passenger's side of the War Rig, partially caving it in, while the Beast itself, symbol of Maple Ridge's civic pride, wrenches off the top and falls directly onto the Willy Webster Treat Wagon. The unfortunate ice cream truck which crumples like a cheap waffle cone. The Beast breaks apart into pieces, the head clanging noisily to the ground. Deuterium Boy yanks Norman back just as the Beast's tail hits the spot where he'd been standing.
Norman
AAAARRRRRRRGGHHHH!!!!!!
Deuterium Boy
Norman?
Norman
WHY?! Why does this stuff have to
happen?!!
Ford shrugs.
Ford
Because it happens.
Jake
Roll the bones.
Hydrogen Guy
Who the hell are you?
Jake
Jake Cisneros. Pleased to --
Hydrogen Guy
What the HELL is going on here? Where's my
centaur?!
Deuterium Boy
Uh, HG...
Ford
Hey, easy. He's probably just gone for
drive-thru.
Jake
He should be careful. That greasy fast-food can
give you the trots.
Hydrogen Guy
PARKER! Who are these idiots?
Ford
You're dressed like that and you think
we're idiots?
Parker steps between them.
Parker
Easy there, chums. Hydrogen Guy, Special Agents
Ford and Cisneros are working with me on behalf of NAFTAPOL to apprehend Kentaro
Ishida. Wanted for murder one in the City by the Bay.
Hydrogen Guy
NAFTAPOL?
Ford
Yeah, that's pretty much what I said.
Chuck War
Huh. We've also been trying to track down
Ishida, and the rest of his syndicate. That was Camus we were chasing.
Ford
You mean that centaur was one of Ishida's
partners?
Deuterium Boy
Wait'll you see his other partner. And
Ishida has wings.
As they stand talking, the streets in front of the disaster scene start filling with cop cars - MRPD Blues southbound from 225th and Parker's RCMP back-up eastbound along Dewdney. Uniformed police start shooing the crowd away, and it becomes a contest between the city cops and the Mounties to see who can get their yellow tape up first. Peterson leaves the group and goes to talk to new arrivals.
Ford
Wings? Damn. Hess was right, he didn't take a dive
off the roof. He flew. That's how he got into Doh's apartment.
Jake
You mean those feathers were Ishida's?
Hydrogen Guy
What the hell are you talking
about?
Ford glances at Chuck War.
Ford
Are all the superheroes up here this
cheerful?
Chuck War
He's just tired. It makes him
cranky.
Hydrogen Guy
I AM NOT CRANKY!! I'm just a little
FRUSTRATED, because nobody's telling me WHAT'S GOING ON!!!
*THWACK*
Hydrogen Guy's eyes roll back in his head, and he crumples like the Beast. Deuterium Boy catches him from behind and gently lowers him to the ground. Standing, he slips the blunt-ended Deuterium-O-Rang back in his Useful Things belt.
Deuterium Boy
He's going to hate me for that later, but
he needs the rest. And so do we.
Ford
Jake, don't get any ideas.
Peterson
*ahem*
Peterson has approached the group with a half dozen city cops in tow.
Parker
Peterson?
Peterson
Mr. War, I'm afraid you'll have to come with
us. You're under arrest for dangerous driving.
Chuck War
[sighs] It figures...
Parker
Peterson! What the devil are you talking
about?
Peterson
He tore a swath through the city from here to
Pitt Meadows. No less than thirty complaints were called into the MRPD in the
last half hour. It's a miracle he didn't kill anybody.
Ford
You had some pretty sweet highway moves yourself,
Starsky.
Peterson ignores him.
Parker
Dammit, Peterson, what about the
centaur?
Peterson
That isn't an excuse for endangering the
public safety. Mr. War?
Parker
He's not going anywhere without me,
Peterson.
Deuterium Boy
Ditto.
Ford
And you two aren't going anywhere without
us.
Chuck War
It's okay, Parker. We'll sort it out at the
station.
Parker
Damn to rights, War. Deuterium Boy, you're with
me. Ford, Cisneros, grab a squad car. Shoot 'em all and let God sort 'em all,
that's the spirit. War, bring the body.
Norman
*whimper*
Parker
I meant Hydrogen Guy.
In the waiting area of Maple Ridge Police Station #5, Jake Cisneros stares idly at his shoes and contemplates flying assassins. Sitting next to him, Ford is absorbed in an ancient copy of Maclean's magazine with Marlen Copeland on the cover. Across the waiting room, Hydrogen Guy is sprawled across a row of chairs, blissfully snoring away. For close to an hour, Parker and Deuterium Boy had been arguing with Peterson and the on-duty sergeant about whether or not Chuck War was under arrest.
Ford
Hey Jake, did you know CNN's Stone Philips used to
be a local news anchor on BCTV?
Jake
No, but my life is complete now that I
do.
Ford
What's with Canada and news anchors? Isn't Peter
Jennings Canadian too?
Jake
I haven't got a clue... Chris, where the hell does
a guy with wings come from?
Ford
Japan, apparently.
Jake
No, you know what I mean. Is he, what, some kind
of fallen angel, a mutant, an alien? What?
Ford
Dunno. That's not the problem. The problem is, how
do you catch a guy with wings? Or a centaur, come to think of it. Or whatever
the hell Chouinard is. I'll bet you lunch at Skai Hai Thai that Hess won't let
us extradite them, either.
Jake
Too bad. I was hoping we could bring Ishida back
in a giant bird cage or something.
Ford
Still. I wanna be there when they tell Lambert
he's got the wrong man, and the case is closed. And I wanna see the look on his
face when they won't tell'im why.
He tosses the magazine aside.
Ford
Time to wake up Commander Proton. I feel like I
need some answers.
He stands up and walks over to the slumbering Hydrogen Guy.
Ford
Hey... wakey wakey.
Hydrogen Guy
Zzzz..
snrk... Marty, there's something wrong
with your kids... zzz...
Ford
Rise and shine, capes. Up and atom.
He shakes him roughly by the shoulder.
Hydrogen Guy
Shzznn... kltpzyxm...
Slowly, his eyes peel open. Blinking heavily, he slowly raises himself to a vertical sitting position. He gingerly places a hand on the back of his head.
Hydrogen Guy
Uhhh... for the love of Einstein, whatta
headache... what happened? Where am I?
Jake
Some police station in downtown Maple
Ridge.
Ford
Your buddy Man-At-Arms got hauled in for reckless
driving.
Hydrogen Guy continues to blink blearily, slowly taking in the scene around him.
Hydrogen Guy
Huh? ... Sorry, it feels like somebody
coshed me from behind...were we attacked?
Ford
You got walloped by a stray piece of mechanical
horse.
He glances at his partner with a straight face, Jake nods.
Jake
Yeah. I think it was a giant horseshoe.
Hydrogen Guy
Ford, right?
Ford
Christopher Ford, SFPD homicide. This is Jake
Cisneros, ditto.
Hydrogen Guy
Hydrogen Guy, League of Heroes local
441.
He shakes their hands.
Hydrogen Guy
I have a vague memory of yelling at you
like a chimp on PCP. Sorry about that...
Ford
Don't worry about it. Everyone has bad
days.
Jake
And not everyone's involves a centaur.
Hydrogen Guy
What are you two doing in Maple Ridge? I'm
guessing you're after Ishida for killing that EPA guy?
Ford
How'd you guess?
Hydrogen Guy
The guy your colleague Jefferson Airplane
was parading around on TV was a local thug, who happened to be climbing over a
chain link fence trying to get away from us when Doh was killed.
A satisfied grin spreads across Ford's face.
Ford
Perfect. Just perfect. What's the deal with
Ishida, anyway? I gather he's part of some outfit called Chimera?
Hydrogen Guy
Right. Chimera, Inc's behind a
record-breaking crime-wave that we've been struggling with all week. The head -
things - are Camus, Kentaro Ishida, and Georges Chouinard. They were next to
impossible to track down, and today we found out why. They're some kind of
mutants. Camus is a centaur, Ishida's some kind of "angel of death", and
Chouinard's a Doberman pinscher in a "Guy's Depository" suit. The three of us
tried to raid their HQ, but we weren't prepared for superpowered opposition. It
pretty much exploded in our faces...
Jake
Damn. I feel like I've walked into an episode of
the "X-Men" or something.
Hydrogen Guy
I don't know them. Californians?
Ford
Skip it. You know anything about the John Doh
case?
Hydrogen Guy
Just what bits I've overheard on the news.
Is that really his name?
Ford
Who?
Hydrogen Guy
John Doh.
Ford
Yeah, why?
Hydrogen Guy
Don't you find that funny? There's a
murder, and the guy's name is actually "John Doe"?
Ford
Never thought about it. Anyway, it's basically
like this - we think Ishida killed Doh in order to suppress whatever
environmental report he was writing about the natural gas pipelines. Either BP
hired him cause the report would've favoured Octan, or vice-versa. Whoever it
was, they had your buddy Billson confess as a greenie terrorist. Which both
cleared their killer, and created a backlash against the
environmentalists.
Hydrogen Guy
Nice setup. Chimera's working for ICBC,
and they're insuring one of the pipelines... Octan, I think. One of their
trustees, Jonas Sanders, is in town right now. It might be to our advantage to
have a little chat with him.
Ford
"Our" advantage?
Hydrogen Guy
Oh yeah. Like it or not, you've got a new
pair of brightly-coloured partners.
Jake
Cool! Do we get capes?
Hydrogen Guy
I'll have DB set you up. You look about
his size...
Ford
Hang on. I'll give you this, it's your show. But
the Doh murder is my case. I get Ishida.
Hydrogen Guy
Uh huh. So let me get this straight - a
middle-aged, out of shape cop versus a professional hit man in his prime, who's
got wings and Einstein knows what other super-powers. Pardon the pun, but I
don't think that'll fly. I hate to break it to you, Chris, but you're not
Hollywood hero material.
At the last comment, Ford tenses. For a moment it looks like he's going to launch himself at Hydrogen Guy. In less than a second he has himself back under control, and he gives the superhero a look which could freeze hydrogen solid.
Ford
I don't need your help. And the name is "Special
Agent Ford".
The door to the station's inner sanctum opens and Deuterium Boy and Parker emerge. They both look worn out from arguing.
Hydrogen Guy
Well?
Deuterium Boy
Oh! You're awake!
Parker
Peterson's a jackass. We talked him down to
week's suspended license and a letter of apology. MRPD's driving War
home.
Hydrogen Guy
A week's suspended license? What's he
going to do, ride around on the War Bicycle?
Parker
No guff from you, Hydrogen Guy. If it wasn't for
me, MRPD would have all three of you in a superpower containment cell.
Deuterium Boy
Err... HG, I'm sorry about --
Hydrogen Guy
DB, I'm glad to see you're all right. That
flying horseshoe gave me a lump on the back of my head the size of a
Clydesdale's testicle.
Ford
Actually, now that you mention it, it was really
Deuterium Boy who -- oof!
Jake elbows him in the ribs.
Jake
So, Parker, what next?
Parker
Damn good question, Cisneros.
Hydrogen Guy
DB, let's head back to the Cave and grab
the De Broglie boards. I want to check out that garage again.
Deuterium Boy
You think they headed back
there?
Hydrogen Guy
I doubt it. But there's still this "old
man" they were supposed to meet, and that garage is the only solid lead we
have.
Ford
Hold it. You're not going anywhere without us,
Hydrogen Guy.
Hydrogen Guy
I thought you didn't need our help,
"Special Agent Ford".
Ford jabs his finger at Hydrogen Guy's nose.
Ford
I don't. But I don't want to be kept in the dark
any more than we already are.
Hydrogen Guy
Fine, then. You come with me to the
garage. DB, why don't you hop a Hydrogen Duct back to the Cave and see if you
and the EOB 9000 can dig up anything on this "old man".
Deuterium Boy
Sure.
Ford
Jake, go with him.
Jake
Uh... okay.
Parker
Great. I'll stay here and catch on my Marcel
Proust. It's a damn gripping read.
Hydrogen Guy turns to Ford.
Hydrogen Guy
You have a car?
Ford
I can get one. C'mon.
He heads back into the station's inner sanctum, Hydrogen Guy close behind. Jake lets out a low whistle as the door slams shut behind them.
Jake
Glad I'm not going along for that car
ride.
Deuterium Boy
Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be able to
hear the egos clashing back at the Hydrogen Cave.
Ford and Hydrogen Guy emerge into the station's impound lot. Ford strides up to the attendant on duty and pulls his badge and a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
Ford
Special Agent Ford, NAFTAPOL. I need a
car.
The attendant examines his SFPD and NAFTAPOL papers curiously.
Attendant
I'm sure you can have a squad car, Special
Agent, but...
Ford
It has to be inconspicuous. Something that doesn't
scream "ghost car", either.
The attendant glances past him at Hydrogen Guy, and shrugs.
Attendant
All right. Take anything but the blue
Corolla, we haven't gone over it yet.
Ford
Thanks.
He takes a quick glance around the small lot. He points.
Ford
That one.
The attendant smirks. He reaches into a drawer and hands Ford the keys.
Attendant
Nice choice. Try not to break it, it's
evidence in a drug case.
Ford takes the keys and makes for the car - a bright red, black-topped muscle-car, loaded with chrome, obviously made sometime in the 1970's. Hydrogen Guy raises an eyebrow.
Hydrogen Guy
What is that, a Torino?
Ford
Nope. '73 Mercury Montego GT. Looks like it's in
pretty nice shape, too. I used to drive one of these back when I dated Johnette
Napolitano.
Hydrogen Guy
Who?
Ford
Barbarian. Get in.
Much to Hydrogen Guy's dismay, the car lacks seatbelts. The engine roars to life, and Ford pulls out of the impound yard with squealing tires.
Ford
Tell me how to get to this garage of
yours.
Hydrogen Guy
Get on the Lougheed heading west, then
make a left onto Maple-Meadows Way.
They drive in silence for a several minutes. Being behind the wheel makes Ford relax somewhat. Hydrogen Guy's echo of Kurtz's remark had stuck a pin into a still-tender wound, but it didn't mean they were the same. And, like it or not, this case had brought him into Hydrogen Guy's territory, both geographically and conceptually. His schtick was less centaurs, more ghosts, zombies and vampires.
As he tries to convert gas prices from Canadian cents per litre into US dollars per gallon, he starts to whistle.
Hydrogen Guy
Is that supposed to be
"Mission"?
Ford
Yeah. You a Rush fan?
Hydrogen Guy
Sure. What geek growing up in the 80's
wasn't? "La Villa Strangiata" is brilliant.
Ford
That whole album was brilliant. I can't say I'm a
big fan of anything after Roll the Bones, though.
Hydrogen Guy
They got caught in the grunge squeeze.
Have you heard Geddy Lee's solo album? There's a couple good songs on
there.
Ford
I'll have to check it out...
He whistles a few more bars as Hydrogen Guy watches cars in the right hand lane drop behind them.
Ford
Sorry for snapping at you before.
Hydrogen Guy
Don't worry about it. Now we're even...
This is Maple-Meadows Way up here.
Ford
Right.
Hydrogen Guy
No, left.
Ford
Funny.
The Montego creeps to a stop in the left hand turn lane. A couple seconds later the green arrow lights up, and they start off. Ford hauls the steering wheel around as hard as he can.
Ford
Oh yeah, power steering. That's why I got rid of
that car... So is this mutant stuff typical for you?
Hydrogen Guy
Centaurs and dog-men are a new one for me,
I'll have to admit. In the past it's been, you know, insane fashion
designer/mech pilots, genocidal lobsters, aliens, wizards, faeries, the
occasional eldritch horror from beyond imagination... It's never dull, anyway. I
guess you don't see much of that kind of thing in your work, huh?
Ford
Nah, usually I save that kind of thing for my
off-hours. Homicide's a lot worse... I did run into a vampire on a case a while
ago, though.
Hydrogen Guy
Really? That where you got the
scar?
Ford twitches that side of his face.
Ford
No. That monster was human.
Hydrogen Guy
Oh.
A few seconds of silence pass.
Ford
It was a serial killer case. I got off lucky. My
partner was shot and killed.
Hydrogen Guy
I'm sorry to hear that. Did you get the
guy?
Ford
[sighs] Yeah. I got him.
Hydrogen Guy speaks softly, just barely audible above the Montego's engine.
Hydrogen Guy
You won a costly victory.
Ford
I guess you could say that... Anyway, I mess
around in the paranormal a bit on my off time. Ghosts, poltergeists, that kind
of thing.
Hydrogen Guy
Huh. If you have time, I should introduce
you to Doug... The garage is coming up on the right just after this
light.
Kentaro leans against a tree, smoking a cigarette. His wings are folded on his back, even though he's not wearing a trench coat. His much-abused Firebird is up on jacks in the driveway a couple feet away, and a pair of legs -- Georges's -- protrude from underneath. A portable boom-box playing the Spenser Davis Group sits nearby.
Georges
Ah, tabernac'...
Kentaro
What?
Georges wiggles out from underneath the car and sits up.
Georges
You know how lucky you were, eh? You nearly
cracked your axle when you hit that curb.
Kentaro
Fucking Camus... you have some grease on your
snout.
Georges wets his muzzle off with his tongue, then rubs it off with his hands, his ears flattening against the top of his head as he does so.
Kentaro
Georges, that's gross.
Georges
What?
Kentaro
Never mind... So what's broken?
Georges shrugs and makes a snuffling sound.
Georges
Like I say, you were lucky... I just have to
replace a few hoses. It might not hurt if we take the suspension apart, just to
see.
Kentaro shrugs and takes another drag on his cigarette.
Kentaro
Sure... I wonder if "Smack" Marley still wants
to sell his Montego...
He looks up as he hears the sound of hooves on the gravel. Camus saunters up, hands in the pockets of the workman's apron tied around his "waist". He's changed from his suit into a blue Polo shirt.
Kentaro
How you feeling, Mr. Hypocrite?
Camus gives him a withering look.
Camus
Will you get over it...
Kentaro
Well excuse me. You chew me out for showing my
wings to three people and then not an hour later, you're galloping through town
with an audience of thousands!
Camus
If it's any consolation, I do feel like an idiot.
I panicked. And my doctor happens to agree with me.
Georges
Hey, it's unanimous, eh?
Georges gets to his feet and shakes himself off. Camus ignores him.
Camus
He said that whatever this twisted excuse I have
for a spine was made for, extended runs at top speed were not included. No
permanent damage, thankfully. He also said I might want to consider...
shoes.
Kentaro
You mean horseshoes?
He bursts out laughing. Georges's ears twitch, which is about as close to an expression of joy as either of them had seen from him.
Camus
Yes, horseshoes... it's not funny, dammit! I'm
lucky I didn't crack a hoof.
Kentaro
Crack a hoof? What about my axle,
buddy?
Camus
You know what I really miss, Kentaro? I miss
real shoes. Patent leather wingtips, bedroom slippers, hiking boots,
sandals, runners...
Georges
Forget the shoes, I want to know when you'll
put on a damn pair of pants.
Camus
You're just jealous, Georges, because nobody ever
says "hung like a mutt".
Kentaro
Yeah, but what are you gonna use it on, Camus,
the neighbor's mare? Heh...
Camus
Anyway, enough of this chitchat. The important
thing is that I talked to the old man before he made it to the garage. I
explained the situation and we set everything up by teleconference while you two
were playing grease-monkey.
Georges
What did he say about the plan?
Camus
Well, he was of two minds... lend me a cigarette
and a light, will you, Kentaro? Thank you... He liked the basic concept, but had
other ideas about the execution. He wants us to do it ourselves.
Kentaro
Ourselves? Jesus! I hope you told him to
go fuck himself?
Camus
Well, I can see his point of view. Would you put
an operation of this delicate nature in the hands of, say, another Myron and
Eddie? Or even a Heinegarten? And Georges here is a demolitions expert. If you
want something done right, do it yourself... And we should have no trouble
getting the Mother Corp to charter us a special wide-bodied plane.
Besides...
He drops his cigarette and smashes it with a hoof.
Camus
... haven't you always wanted to see the Great
White North?
The Montego pulls into the garage parking lot where, a couple hours before, Hydrogen Guy and his comrades had been in a fire-fight with the Chimera brass. The hole that Camus had kicked through the garage door is still there, and the rubber Chuck War had laid down in the War Rig can still be seen on sidewalk in front. But as soon as Hydrogen Guy stepped out of the car, he senses something is different.
Ford
So let me get this straight... anything that has
hydrogen in it, you can control?
Hydrogen Guy
The hydrogen part of it, anyway. Depending
how integral a part the hydrogen atoms are to the rest of the material, the rest
may come along for the ride.
Ford
And you can turn into hydrogen gas.
Hydrogen Guy
Don't ask for a demonstration, I'm way too
tired.
Ford
And you can float, but you can't fly.
Hydrogen Guy
Right.
Ford
Can you, you know, shoot proton beams out of your
fingers or anything like that?
Hydrogen Guy
No, sorry.
Ford
Super-strength? X-ray vision?
Hydrogen Guy
Nope and nope. I have super-atomic smell
and taste, though.
Ford
That's kind of boring.
Hydrogen Guy
Boring? Do you have any idea what it's
like to be in a crowded room when you can pick out and identify trace chemicals
in the air down to a few parts per quadrillion? Somebody on the other side of
the room farts, and I know. And don't get me started on people with
BO...
Ford
Well, that's ruined the magic of paranormally
enhanced senses for me.
Hydrogen Guy
You get used to it. After a year or so you
even start to enjoy food again.
They approach the hole in the garage door cautiously. Ford draws his sidearm and Hydrogen Guy draws the Ruler of Elendil.
Ford
What are you going to do with that, give them a
rap on the knuckles?
Hydrogen Guy
Hey, you have any six-inch sheets of
titanium you want cut through? Cause this baby can do it.
Seeing no one inside the service bay, they walk inside through the hole, Hydrogen Guy taking the lead. The tire is still smoldering in one corner of the bay.
Hydrogen Guy
In the name of truth, silliness, and the
pan-North American way... anyone home?
Ford runs his hand over a two-inch-deep crater in the concrete wall made by Chuck War's Argon Blast Cannon. He feels where the stone was flash-melted and flowed a few millimeters before solidifying again. Even though the battle was two hours ago, he can still feel a slight warmth in the crater.
Ford
What the hell did this?
Hydrogen Guy
It's better if you didn't know.
Ford turns around and glares at him.
Ford
I said I didn't want to be kept in the
dark.
Hydrogen Guy
Sorry, it's nothing to do with the case.
It was made by a weapon that belongs to Chuck War. Mu-- civilians aren't really
supposed to know about it.
Ford
Fair enough. I'll use my imagination. Why don't
we check out the office, there's nothing in here.
They go to a door to their far right. Hydrogen Guy tries the handle - it's unlocked. He opens it and they step inside, oblivious to any of the infrared beams crisscrossing the doorway.
The office is unremarkable. There's an old desk made some kind of dark wood, a few chairs, and a filing cabinet. The drawers to the cabinet are slightly open, and the desk shows signs of having been recently swept clean of everything but a battered phone, a worn desk set and a new digital clock radio. It's as if someone had hurriedly gone through everything in the office, and then tried to put everything back so it looked like nothing was wrong.
Ford
Looks like we're a couple hours too
late.
Hydrogen Guy
They might have left something. You want
to check the desk, I'll take the file cabinet?
Ford
Sure.
They holster their weapons and walk around to their respective posts. Hydrogen Guy starts at the top drawer - empty. The next drawer still has several file folders in it. He leafs through them carefully, but they all seem to be ancient business records from when Duffy's Tires actually sold tires.
Similarly, Ford comes up blank in the desk. The drawers are empty except for a few pens and a pad of yellow Post-Its, which he pockets. Not a bad desk, he thinks, fondling its curves and checking it for nicks and scratches.
Hydrogen Guy shuts the middle drawer and squats down to check the bottom one.
Hydrogen Guy
Anything?
Ford
Nada.
Hydrogen Guy
Same here.
Ford
They even changed the blotter paper.
He glances briefly at the clock radio -- and freezes.
It's showing the wrong time. And it's counting backwards.
Ford
Hey, Hydrogen Guy.
Hydrogen Guy
Yeah?
He doesn't look up from the folder of tire specs as he glances through them.
Ford
You've got super-speed, right?
Hydrogen Guy
When I've had sufficient sleep,
yeah.
Ford
Oh.
Hydrogen Guy
Why?
Ford
'Cause it looks like we started up a timer when we
walked in here, and it's got 10 seconds left on it.
Eight seconds later, Ford and Hydrogen Guy burst out of the front door to Duffy's Tires at their top non-atomic speed. They hit the ground just as they made it to the Montego.
Norman Kay sits cross-legged in front of the remains of his ice-cream truck. He'd just tossed his cell-phone into traffic - that'll serve it right - after his boss at Willy Webster's had fired him. Now his only job is to wait for the wreckers to show up.
Municipal Square is still surrounded by police tape, and city workers have now arrived and are surveying the damage. A steady stream of Maple Ridgers had been coming by for the past couple of hours to gaze in awe and horror at what had happened to the city's beloved landmark. Nobody came by to gaze in awe and horror at what had happened to the city's beloved Norman Kay.
It's just as he's stuck, deep in this darkest, most depressing personal funk, when he feels a little flower of contentment bloom somewhere in his soul. Norman almost smiles. He can't explain it - call it a sixth sense, call it coincidence, call it morbid intuition - but he just somehow knows.
Somewhere in Maple Ridge, something truly awful had just happened to someone else.
Great smiling Shiva! Have our very own World's Finest been blown to smithereens by Chimera's dastardly deed? Can Deuterium Boy and Jake Cisneros save them in time? Will Chuck War really write that letter of apology? Will Camus finally put on an extra-wide pair of pants? Don't miss the continuation of the most exciting cross-over since Jessica Fletcher showed up on "Magnum P.I."! Tune in Thursday for Part X of...
Black Gold, Blue Moon