Episode 51
... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy
Part XI - "North to Alaska"
The explosion nearly overwhelms the dazzling special effect of a De Broglie board arrival at nearly the same instant. Quick thinking and a metallic deuterium shield alone save Deuterium Boy and Jake Cisneros from the force of the explosion.
They ride out the explosion crouched behind the shield. When the blast dies down, Deuterium Boy drops the shield and they step off the bright orange, green yellow and red surfboard. They survey the wreckage of Duffy's Tire shop in amazement.
Jake
Holy... does that always happen when you use that
thing?!
Deuterium Boy
No... Hydrogen Guy! Hydrogen
Guy!
Hydrogen Guy
Here...
They rush over to car covered in a pile of debris. Deuterium Boy and Jake help shove the debris aside as Hydrogen Guy and Christopher Ford crawl out from under the car.
Jake
Are you guys all right?
Ford
It wasn't our fault. Honest...
Hydrogen Guy
It's true, Chimera carelessly left a pile
of explosives and an infrared trip-wire for us to stumble over.
Jake
What -- is this a Montego?
Ford
'72 Montego GT. Man...
The car is nearly buried under chunks of brick, glass, and wood, and a coarse layer of dust. The rear window has been blown inward by the force of the explosion.
Ford
There goes the paint job.
Jake
This is why I never let you drive my
car!
Ford
I told you, it wasn't our fault!
Hydrogen Guy
It's fine, it just needs a few thousand in
body-work. The tire shop's a write-off, though... There was nothing in there but
the booby trap. Benny "Noseeum" Bartles must've come to and cleared the place
out while we were destroying public property on the other side of
town.
Deuterium Boy
Hydrogen Guy! The "old man" is Jonas
Sanders, the Octan trustee!
Hydrogen Guy
What?
Ford
Huh?
Jake
Sanders is the guy Chimera's getting their orders
from. The reason BP's investors have been jumping ship like crazy is that he's
got Chimera to put the hurt on them. And he had Ishida kill Doh so he wouldn't
come out against the Octan pipeline in his report.
Ford
You mean it really was the old caretaker in
a rubber mask?
Hydrogen Guy
Sanders? Great Feynman's Ghost!
Winnie-the-Pooh lived under the name of Sanders!
Deuterium Boy
Bingo!
Hydrogen Guy
Deuterium Boy! Why... my little Watson's
all grown up now! I'm getting all teary...
Ford
That's just the dust in the air.
Deuterium Boy
It was elementary, my dear Hydrogen Guy.
I think you owe me a case of beer for this.
Hydrogen Guy
Hell, I'll buy you a case of that damned
Carffee if you're right.
Ford
C'mon, we gotta go talk to Sanders.
Hydrogen Guy
Hold on, Special Agent Ford.
Ford
What?
Hydrogen Guy
It might be best if DB and I manhandle
that one ourselves.
Ford
Not on your life. This is me and Jake's case too,
remember?
Hydrogen Guy
Sure. But superheroes enjoy, shall we say,
a bit more discretionary freedom in interviewing bad guys than the regular
force.
Deuterium Boy
In other words, NAFTAPOL might not like
it if you dangle him out his hotel window by his ankles, but we can get away
with it.
Ford
Hm. Good point.
Jake
But as long as it's you two doing the dangling,
and Chris and I just watch in shock and disapproval --
Ford
Four's a crowd, Jake. Besides, I have an idea.
Okay, you two go and dangle Sanders. I have a couple stops to make. We'll meet
in an hour.
Hydrogen Guy
Make it an hour and a half. Django Djava,
Dewdney and Dunbar. I think you'll like the place.
Wrecker
Well'p... that's got 'er.
Norman Kay nods glumly. The wrecker has just finished securing the squashed remains of his ice cream truck to the back of the flat-bed. Puddles of oil, gasoline and melted ice cream dot the brick in Municipal Square where he'd been waiting for several hours. The wrecker had arrived about an hour ago, but had had to wait as the municipality wasn't finished collecting up the fragments of the Beast - Maple Ridge's late mechanical horse clock-cum-civic monument, which had been the squasher to the ice cream truck's squashee.
Now the only the four steel pylons which had supported the clock remain. The demolished RCMP ghost car and the War Rig have likewise been removed by the police, the latter using a jumbo-sized tow rig. The square has almost returned to normal, though still taped off by two different flavours of yellow tape, and a few police officers still examine parts of the square and the nearby road for tire marks and debris, filling in accident reports.
Wrecker
Dang, whatta mess, eh? And ya know I heard on
the radio comin' in that some garage out on Maple-Meadows just blew up. And
y'hear about that shoot-out in broad daylight at the Chinese place
yesterday?
Norman
Yeah. You could say I heard about
that.
Wrecker
Dang. Dunno what's gotten into this city
lately. It's crazy. A body's almost afraid to go out anymore, eh? I mean lookit
-- just sittin' there mindin' your business, when bang! Cars start plowing into
things and there's a clock on your truck.
Norman
Could be worse. I coulda been shot.
Wrecker
Well, yeah! Hear about that guy the cops found
down the river, with his kneecaps shot off? Dang. Y'know, I don't mind
superheroes and all, like this Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy, but sometimes ya
gotta wonder if they make things better or worse, y'know?
Norman moans.
Wrecker
Eh, well... Take it easy, buddy. I'll drive
this back to the Willy Webster yard, find out what they want done with it. Hope
your boss is the understandin' type.
Norman didn't even bother to moan this time.
Wrecker
Oh, hey, almost forgot...
He reaches underneath the truck's body and pulls out a large silvery object, about the size of a large lunch box. He hands it to Norman.
Wrecker
I found this when the city guys cleared out.
Looks like they missed it. I snagged it for ya, figured hey, it'd make a hell of
a souvenir.
Norman turns it around and sees a huge pair of equine lips and teeth snarling at him.
Norman
It's the Beast's mouth.
Wrecker
Crazy, eh? I figure, heh, they can just make
another one when they put'er back up. A lot of them pieces were all busted to
scrap anyway. I reckon they'll have to re-forge most of it anyway.
Norman
Heh... thanks. I guess if nothing else turns up,
I can sell it on eBay...
Wrecker
That's it, look on the bright side. Take care
now... wait, where the heck're my manners. Can I give you a lift?
Norman
Yeah, sure. But not to the yard... just drop me
at the "White Wolf" next door.
Wrecker
No sweat.
Norman walks around and climbs in the passenger side. The flatbed's engine rumbles to life, then thumps and bangs its way out of the square and into traffic.
The square looks terribly, terribly empty.
Mechanical horse clocks and the sparkle they add to downtown cores are about the farthest thing from Jonas Sanders' mind as he peruses the menu in Barribault's, the Maple Ridge Hilton's fine dining room. A small gaggle of yes-men, both locals and imports from San Francisco, surround him at the table, trying to out-do one another at small-talk. Sanders had begged off the official reception that the sycophantic Brad Chadley, Maple Ridge's mayor, had wanted, pleading an early flight.
Sanders
Whaddya say, boys, give the California house
red a swing? Or try some of the local rotgut?
Yes Man #1
The Mission Hill's good, Jonas.
Sanders
Then what say we order that, eh?
Yes-Man #2
Sounds good.
Yes-Man #3
Okay.
Yes-Man #4
Fine with me.
Yes-Man #5
Good choice, Mr. Sanders.
Sanders tosses the wine list down on the table.
Sanders
Great then.
A maitre-d' with a generous amount of forehead approaches the table.
Sanders
Ah, there you are. Nice timing. We'll get a
couple bottles of the Mission Hill red.
Maitre-D'
Excellent, sir. I regret to inform you that
two... persons are here wishing to see you.
Sanders
Eh?
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy pop out from behind him.
Hydrogen Guy
Ah, there's the old man. You'd make an
excellent sherpa, Sparky.
Deuterium Boy
Can't you see him in a woolly
hat?
Maitre-D'
Shall I have them removed, sir?
Sanders
No, no, it's all right, son. They won't be
staying long.
Maitre-D'
Very good, sir. I'll return shortly with the
wine.
He shimmers off. The yes-men look at our heroes with amused disdain.
Sanders
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy, isn't it? I
remember your pictures from the embassy brouhaha. A man doesn't forget outfits
like those.
Hydrogen Guy
I'm flattered, nonetheless. I hope you're
enjoying your visit to our mighty metropolis?
Deuterium Boy
Maybe you had time to take in our
historic selection of abandoned tire shops.
Hydrogen Guy
The ones that haven't exploded,
anyway.
Sanders
Now, gentlemen, don't blither. I'm in the
middle of a business dinner, can't you see that? What do you want?
Hydrogen Guy
Just an informal chat, Mr. Sanders. About
our mutual acquaintances Camus, Kentaro and Georges.
Deuterium Boy
And Myron, who sends his love from
Alcatraz.
Sanders
Ah. I see.
He addresses the collection of puzzled yes-men.
Sanders
Why don't you boys run off to the salad bar for
a few minutes. I'll clear this up quick.
Yes-Man #1
If you're sure, Jonas.
Yes-Man #2
Sounds good.
Yes-Man #3
Okay.
Yes-Man #4
Fine with me.
Yes-Man #5
Good plan, Mr. Sanders.
They bustle off, leaving the table to Sanders and the Diatomic Duo. Our heroes invite themselves to sit down, and do so.
Sanders
So. What are you boys trying to prove,
exactly?
Hydrogen Guy sips a glass of water.
Hydrogen Guy
Mmm, a tangy chlorinous bouquet with just
a hint of ferrihydrite... Mr. Sanders, some rather alarming ideas have come into
our heads recently. We just want to dispel them so we can all sleep
easier.
Deuterium Boy
You've had your ICBC-backed thugs shaking
down your rival pipeline's investors.
Sanders
You got me. So?
Hydrogen Guy
Excuse me?
Deuterium Boy
Confess or I'll deuterate every proton in
your spindly little body.
Hydrogen Guy
He just did. And a little more subtlety on
the "bad cop" act next time.
Deuterium Boy
Sorry.
Sanders
Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, in the
New Administration, competition in the energy business is tough. I admit, ICBC
offered me their resources and I found Camus, Chouinard and Ishida excellent to
work with. We have quite a bit of synergy, as the mutton-heads I'm dining with
would say.
Deuterium Boy
You admit it?
Sanders
Sure. Camus and his colleagues have been using
every means at their disposal to undermine the BP consortium's BC investment
base. And they've been damned effective. Except for a couple die-hards, they've
all jumped ship. And I'm pretty sure the rest will come around pretty
soon.
Hydrogen Guy
But I suppose you deny any involvement in
the murder of the EPA inspector?
Sanders
Heh, why should I? The guy's boss McCoy's in my
back pocket. Doh was going to give the raspberry to both pipelines, so I had
Ishida take care of it. McCoy's report glows in its praise of Octan's
ecologically responsible action plan and damns BP's project as a toxic
boondoggle. It's a good read. Furthermore, gents, I'll have you know that the
reason you two look like a pair of half-dead rodents is that Chimera's kicked up
this little crime wave the papers are moaning about as a screen for their
activities for me. Well, partly for me, mostly because they're go-getters.
They'd go far with my company, if they weren't mutant freaks and psychopaths.
Keeps you "tights" and the Mounties busy, anyway.
Hydrogen Guy
Anything else you've been up to that you'd
like to share with us, Mr. Sanders? Burn any Whitewater documents? Bought
artwork looted by the Nazis? Sold crack to any school kids or kicked any
puppies?
Sanders
I squash snails, Hydrogen Guy. With ecstasy.
Hah!
Deuterium Boy
What's your game here, Sanders?
Sanders
Been waiting to use that corny old line,
haven't you, son? Lemme tell you. You boys have no proof, and you know it. I'm
careful, and so's Chimera. Well, when they're not running through town... Mary
Murphy, that boy... Anyway, all you have, and we both know it, is some wild
supposition and the rantings of an old man weak from hunger. And I know for a
fact you'll never have the proof you need.
Hydrogen Guy
You just confessed to us!
Sanders
I did nothing of the kind. And if I did say
anything, it's because your nut-job partner here threatened me with his nukular
voodoo.
Deuterium Boy
Mr. Sanders, you should know that we've
been recording this conversation from the moment we sat down.
Sanders
Heh heh. No, you haven't, boys...
He slips a hand into his jacket pocket and produces a black box, slightly bigger than a cell phone. One end sports a pair of aluminum antennae.
Sanders
I carry this little dandy with me everywhere I
go. Can't help it, I'm paranoid. It sends out a high-frequency signal that
scrambles any recording devices or microphones. Not that I don't think you're
bluffing, anyway.
The Diatomic Duo exchange an unsettled glance. Sanders pockets the device.
Sanders
Now I see my ball-team's starting to wear a
track around the salad bar, so I'll throw you this little tidbit. Look high and
low, you won't find Camus and the boys anywhere in town. Or the next town over.
I've sent them up north. They should be in the air right now.
Hydrogen Guy
Where? Why?
Sanders
Why, to bomb the BP construction site, of
course! Once word of that disaster gets out, investor confidence will hit rock
bottom and the whole project'll fold, leaving us the only ones in the field. No,
I won't tell you where, I'm no idiot. The North's a big place to search, boys,
and I reckon that within 18 hours, BP's pipeline will be history. And as for the
murder - tell your Yankee cop friend that an arrest's been made. Case is
closed.
He grins a big, Cheshire cat smile.
Sanders
Now, as my grandmother use to say -
git.
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy rise from the table. Hydrogen Guy considers Sanders, his face composed.
Hydrogen Guy
As you wish, Mr. Sanders. But I leave you
with this --
Sanders
You still here?
Hydrogen Guy
The hydrogen bond appears weak compared to
the covalent metal-metal bond in steel, and may be easily broken. But it is
because of hydrogen bonds that ice floats, and the iceberg can sink even the
unsinkable ship.
Sanders
Eh?
Hydrogen Guy
Good-night, Mr. Sanders.
He bows slightly and walks away, Deuterium Boy close behind.
Deuterium Boy
[whispering] Hydrogen Zen?
Hydrogen Guy
[whispering] It sounded good in my head,
and nobody tells me to "git".
Despite that fact that it's seven o'clock on a Sunday night, Ford and Jake found Django Djava busy. They scoop a table just as a group of women gather their things to leave. Ford drops his shopping bags on the floor and shoves them under the table with his foot as he and Jake collapse into their chairs. After sticking around at Duffy's Tires, hobnobbing with the local constabulary for a half hour, they'd cleared off the Montego and gone in search of a sporting goods store. They found one just fifteen minutes before it closed, and Ford picked up a volleyball net and an aluminum baseball bat. Despite Jake's insistent questions, he refused to explain the purchases. They found the Djava shortly after, and finding themselves with another forty-five minutes before the rendezvous with the superheroes, ducked into Ye Olde Time Arkade a few blocks down.
Jake
I just don't get it. I was a kid in the eighties,
I grew up with those games. You were already an old stiff in your twenties. I
should be able to run circles around you in all of those games.
Ford
You have to face facts, Jake. Your skillz just
aren't l33t enough. It doesn't help that you jump like a rabbit every time
Sinistar howls, either.
Jake
Hey, he hungers.
Ford
Yeah, yeah. Actually, now that you mention it, so
do I. Do they serve food here?
As if a genie invoked by the rub of a magic lamp, the black-clad, mutton-chopped, ethnically-hatted Carl appears by their table bearing a tray, from which he dispenses two small appetizer menus with his pleasantries.
Carl
Good evening, gentlemen. I've been expecting you.
I am Carl, proprietor of Django Djava. How may I make your evenings
delightful?
They glance at the menus. Ford's face registers surprise.
Ford
You have Carffee?
Carl
Yes, sir. We are for the moment the only
establishment in British Columbia which provides Carffee.
Ford
Bring it on.
Jake
I'll have a Coke.
Carl
Splendid. If you care to peruse our list of
appetizers, I'll return in a moment.
He glides away and they resume their conversation. Moments later he returns with their drinks, and they order a platter of Romany Nachos - with melted goat cheese, olives, and what the menu describes as "an enchanting mystery condiment".
Ford
Ten to one it's cocktail sauce.
Jake
I was satisfied thinking of it as a
mystery.
The door opens and Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy walk in. As Carl glides by on his way to the espresso machine, he gestures towards Ford and Jake's table. They head over.
Ford
How'd it go?
Hydrogen Guy
DB was disappointed he didn't get to
dangle anyone out of a window, but other than that, it was very
interesting.
They briefly recap their meeting with Sanders.
Ford
Talk about cocky...
Jake
There has to be something we can arrest him for.
The guy confessed!
Ford
No, he's got a point, damn him. HG and DB's
evidence wouldn't stand up in a U.S. court, unless they had a whole lot of hard
documents to back it up. It isn't even enough for us to get any kind of
warrant.
Deuterium Boy
Why not?
Hydrogen Guy
State of New York vs. Professor M, 1971.
The Court ruled that testimony from foreign superheroes not recognized by the
U.S. gov was inadmissible as evidence. The ruling was subsequently upheld in the
State of California vs. Decimatro, 1974 and the Iron-Contra hearings.
Deuterium Boy
Since when have you been a legal
expert?
Hydrogen Guy
I got it off my SuperFacts Page-A-Day
calendar.
Ford
Maybe we can find some evidence against Sanders
ourselves.
Jake
Yeah, but it's not gonna make much difference if
we don't stop the Zoobalee Zoo from hell from blowing up the pipeline.
Hydrogen Guy
If construction was further along, we
might be able to pinpoint the site from orbit with the Hydrogen Spy Satellite.
But I understand they're just in the preliminary stages, so it'll be a long shot
unless we can get access to a higher res satellite.
Deuterium Boy
Here's a thought, why not just ask BP
where it is?
Hydrogen Guy
Oh sure, go for the wimp's way
out.
Carl appears and presents the nacho platter, a cup of hot chocolate for Hydrogen Guy, Carffees for Ford and DB, and another Coke for Jake.
Hydrogen Guy
Hey, is that cocktail sauce?
Carl
Hush. It's an old Romany recipe.
Ford
Thanks.
Carl nods and slips away again.
Hydrogen Guy
Remind me why we usually go to the Usual
Coffee Shop?
Deuterium Boy
20% discount with a League of Heroes
membership.
Hydrogen Guy
Oh, right.
Jake
Anyway, it's not that simple. Both pipeline
construction sites are being kept under wraps so they won't be hit by green
terrorists.
Ford
You get that off that pipeline web site?
Jake
Yeah.
Ford
You know, I might be able to dig up something
online. That might be a good starting point. Is there an all-night 'net
café around here?
Deuterium Boy
This is Canada. Nothing here is all-night
and the Internet closes at 9:30 PM.
Hydrogen Guy
Forget the café, you can come back
to the Cave and surf the Hydrogen DSL.
Ford
Great. Jake, what was that URL again?
He searches his pockets, and produces the pad of Post-Its he took from Duffy's Tires. Hydrogen Guy hands him a pencil.
Jake
Ready?
Ford
Yeah... Hey, wait a second...
Jake
Chris, it's not really that hard an address in the
first place - what are you doing?
Ford lightly shades the top note with the pencil, as if he was making a graphite rubbing.
Ford
I took these Post-Its from the garage. Something
was written on the note above this one and you can just make out the impression
left by the pen.
He drops the pencil and pushes the pad across, grinning.
Hydrogen Guy
"Rousseau Bay, Alaska -- arrange flight,
ICBC".
Deuterium Boy
Wow, that's so Hardy Boys.
Ford
Don't knock it, it might be exactly what we're
looking for. Hey, Carl!
The proprietor reappears.
Carl
Yes?
Ford
Got an atlas?
While Carl is far too professional to look nonplused, he looks far from actually being plused.
Carl
I have 30 different forms of coffee, 12 varieties
of tea, 16 varieties of tisane, a rotating menu of 12 desserts and 6 appetizers,
and I am the only one in the province who can provide you with Carffee -- and
you want an atlas.
Ford
Yeah.
Carl
You are an extremely lucky man. I'll be right
back.
He returns a minute later with a worn blue book. Ford snatches it from him, and leafs through it until he finds a map with Alaska on it.
Ford
There - Rousseau Bay. Two hundred miles east of
Anchorage. If they're flying from Maple Ridge they'll have to stop and change
planes at least twice.
Hydrogen Guy
Nicely done, Special Agent Ford.
Carl
My friends, I would never be so gauche as to
suggest you leave a hefty tip, but I suggest you leave a hefty tip.
Hydrogen Guy
Carl, you're the gauchest man I
know.
He turns back to the others as Carl disappears with his atlas.
Hydrogen Guy
We'll look it up on the GPS for exact
coordinates back at the Cave. Let's see, they couldn't have left any later than
three o'clock this afternoon...
Ford
Later. It takes time to arrange a trip like that.
Hydrogen Guy
Especially with Camus's "special
needs".
Ford
Right. If they were waiting for Sanders when you
tried to bust them, that means they couldn't have spoken to him until after the
chase.
Deuterium Boy
Okay, so probably they didn't get on a
plane until earlier this evening.
Ford
Then they won't reach Rousseau Bay until sometime
tomorrow morning, guaranteed.
Hydrogen Guy
Perfect. If we go two to a De Broglie
board, we can get there instantaneously.
Jake
Hey, Zeus... not that thing again. It's not gonna
make anything blow up again, is it?
Deuterium Boy
Not if we do it right.
Ford
Well, I'm reassured. When do we leave?
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy exchange a worried glance. Hydrogen Guy is about to speak when the sound of the shop's door chime and a girlish squeal interrupt. They look over to see to two other superheroes have entered the café. One is a man of about middle height, covered head to toe in red bio-armour with yellow and black stripes that suggest boots and gloves. Ford and Jake barely give him a moment's glance; not because they've become so blasé about superheroes, but because of his companion. She has blonde, naturally curly hair and the sort of body that makes priests sworn to celibacy wince with un-spiritual agony. Her costume consists of a form-fitting shirt and short skirt, red with pink trim, and a yellow "He" on her chest. Her gossamer pink cape comes ends just above her red knee-high boots, and has a feathery collar.
Helium Girl
Ohmygod, there they are! Hiiiii!!
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy get to their feet and she pounces on them with enthusiastic hugs. Ford stands out of courtesy, while Jake seems frozen to his chair.
Deuterium Boy
Hey! I'm surprised to see you!
Helium Girl
We're, like, here for the crime
wave!
Hydrogen Guy shakes her armoured companion's hand.
Hydrogen Guy
Living up to your name again.
Deus Ex Machina
One does what one can.
Hydrogen Guy turns to Ford and Jake.
Hydrogen Guy
These are our colleagues from Victoria.
Helium Girl and Deus Ex Machina, meet Special Agents Ford and Cisneros,
NAFTAPOL.
Ford
San Francisco PD, usually.
Helium Girl
Hi, that's so cool! I love San Francisco,
they have such, like, awesome shopping there!
Jake
Ha ba.
Helium Girl
Ohmygod, is that Spanish? You look, like,
totally Spanish!
Jake
I... I... ahh...
Jake has turned almost the same colour as Helium Girl's shirt.
Ford
Easy Jake. Save some charm for later.
Deus Ex Machina
We got a message from Chuck War this
afternoon to come as soon as we could. He didn't sound happy.
Hydrogen Guy
I'm glad you guys showed up. Look
-
He turns back to Ford.
Hydrogen Guy
- based on what we've seen so far, DB and
I will need to be at full power when we confront Chimera. We need at least a few
hours sleep.
Ford
Got it. If those magic boogie boards are as good
as you say, you can probably get a few winks and still get us there in time to
stop Chimera from blowing up the pipeline.
Hydrogen Guy
Right. The only problem being that the
underworld is still going crazy around here, and with us snoozing and Chuck War
grounded, we'd have a major dilemma. Or at least we did, until our friends here
showed up.
Deus Ex Machina
I'm not sure I like the sound of
that...
Hydrogen Guy
You haven't been getting lazy out there
have you?
Helium Girl
Like, you just watch us, buster.
Hydrogen Guy
Good stuff. We'll give you a quick
briefing and coordinate with the rest of the League back at the Cave. Ford, you
want to meet us back here in the morning?
Ford
Sure. Six too early?
Hydrogen Guy shudders.
Hydrogen Guy
Probably, but you're right, we don't want
to lose any more time than we have to... DB?
Deuterium Boy
Sure.
Ford
Don't worry about the drinks, guys. They're on
us.
Hydrogen Guy looks surprised.
Hydrogen Guy
Thanks.
They get up from the table.
Deuterium Boy
See you guys in the morning.
Hydrogen Guy
Don't stay up too late, remember we're
saving the world tomorrow.
Ford
I'll try to rein in the Party-Master
here.
Helium Girl
Bye! Nice meeting you!
Ford
Likewise.
Jake
Bye...
The heroes wave as they walk out the door. After they're gone, Jake drops his head onto the table.
Ford
Nice.
Jake
Awww man... I am such a moron...
Ford
Don't worry about it. Karen will be proud.
Assuming she's still speaking to you, of course.
Jake sighs.
Jake
Maybe I can just ask them to leave me in
Alaska...
The early dawn quiet of Roussea Bay is broken by the sound of an approaching helicopter. It comes into view, circles the area a few times to pinpoint the landing pad - little more than a flat expanse of gravel thus far, a half kilometer from the town. The chopper, an unmarked Hercules, slowly sets down. The bay door opens. Kentaro and Georges clambour out, each dressed in work clothes and sunglasses. Kentaro's wings are bound as usual underneath a trench coat. Next they help Camus climb out of the chopper - first his front legs, then the back. From the waist up he is dressed like they are - light jacket, work shirt, and sun glasses to shade his eyes from the sub-arctic summer sun. Stainless steel glints in the light from his hooves. He trots around the landing pad, stretching legs severly cramped during the ride from Anchorage in the small (for his size) aircraft. As Kentaro communicates with pilot via hand signals, Georges pulls several bulky cases from the chopper and slams the door shut. Kentaro knocks goodbye on the side of the craft, and it takes to the air again.
Kentaro smoothes his hair as the helicopter arches away and heads off for the south horizon. Georges passes him one of the cases.
Georges
You remember what I show you, eh?
Kentaro
Yeah. No sweat... The chopper'll be back in an
hour. We'll have plenty of time.
Camus
Good.
Georges sniffs the air, and swats at a black fly. Camus swings his tail, batting others away from himself. Kentaro slaps the back of his neck.
Kentaro
This is going to be a problem, isn't
it?
Camus
Grin and bear it, Kentaro. Right, remember the
plan. First we set the bullet. Then Georges and I will set up the first
stationary at the base camp while you take the worker's gondola. We hit them in
three spots and it's game over for this leg of the pipeline.
Kentaro
Understood.
Georges
It will be enough?
Camus smiles.
Camus
Oh yes, Georges. This early in the construction,
taking out one transfer station, half their equipment and a few dozen workers is
a major set-back. Major enough to give the markets a start, anyway. Shall we go
for a walk?
Kentaro
Time to go to work.
Danger! Men at Work! Dangerous men, that is. Or rather, dangerous mutants. Lotsa danger! Our heroes and villains are hurtling towards a final fantastic confrontation! Will there be EXPLOSIONS? Hell yes! The mayhem begins Thursday in Part XII (Jeez, can you believe how long this is?) of...
Black Gold, Blue Moon