Episode 72

... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy

Part I

As uniformed members of Maple Ridge's finest led assorted mobsters, hench goons, and at least one would-be Napoleon of crime from the warehouse, Chuck War was feeling more than just a pang of disappointment. From a law-enforcement point of view, there was no doubt that the evening's activities were a success; but it had failed to net him a ffinch-ffirnian arms dealer, which had been the whole point of the exercise.

The bust, thought the Galactic Customs Agent ruefully, had turned out to be a bust.

He slipped his Argon Blast Cannon back into its sling, and started walking back along the pier towards his truck. His leisurely stroll, and meditative looks at the Fraser River, seemed at odds with the hectic activity behind him. Police cars, paddy wagons, fire engines, and ambulances were scattered across the pier. The MRPD were muscling the beaten villains into the wagons, side-stepping the fire-crew that was putting out the small fire that had started in the back of the warehouse. (These things happen.) The paramedics were attending to the gunshot wounds, plasma burns, and broken noses suffered by the crooks, none of which were life-threatening. And on the fringe of it all, Chuck War thinking watery thoughts, as he gazed alternately at the full moon and the city's lights reflected on the water.

Lately, it was on nights like this that he'd found himself drifting off into reverie. Imagining himself alone with the moon and the water. Well, almost alone...

Chuck knew it couldn't last, of course, and soon enough official sounding footsteps grew nearer. He looked up and was pleased to see the detective approaching him was Owen Pergrin. The portly, pink-complexioned Welshman had transferred from the Langley PD last summer, and Chuck vastly preferred dealing with him than most of the others in the department. Particularly Peterson.

Pergrin
Hello, War.

Chuck War
Evening, Detective.

Pergrin
Good haul tonight.

Chuck War
All right, I guess.

Pergrin
Big fish slip away?

Chuck War
The one I was after, yeah..

Pergrin
Anyone I've heard of?

Chuck War
No. I was after a weapons dealer who was supposed to be handing over some unusual merchandise to Torplinksy, but he didn't show. I guess my guy got wind of the raid or something.

Pergrin
Too bad. Well, you caught Torplinksy and his crew with enough junk to keep them off the streets for a while. Thanks.

Chuck War
No trouble... You waiting for SHVD to show up?

Pergrin shook his head.

Pergrin
Nah. No agents in town right now. I'm all you're getting, I'm afraid. You have all the forms in your truck, I suppose?

Chuck War
Uh-huh. Even started filling them out when I was waiting for Torplinksy to show up.

Pergrin
That's the lad. Bring them by the station first thing tomorrow, make your official statement then. The one you gave the sergeant will do for now.

One of the reasons Chuck liked Detective Owen Pergrin was his accommodating nature. Peterson would have kept him hanging around for hours, then demanded he come to the station and complete all the paperwork immediately.

Chuck War
Thanks, Detective. I appreciate it.

Pergrin
No worries, War. I know you've got League and GC reports to write up on top of the SHVD and police paperwork. You spend almost as much time at a desk as I do. Ah... don't look now, War, but the press is here. Best of the evening to you, now I'm going to make myself scarce.

He waved and started heading back towards the warehouse. He nearly bumped into the two people coming from the other direction - a crisp, together-looking blonde woman in a suit and a shaggy-looking man with a camera. Pergrin waved them off, chanting "no comment no comment" in a musical voice. The woman laughed and said something Chuck couldn't hear.

He smiled as the newcomers approached.

Lola
Hey, Chuck.

Chuck War
Ms. Lakefront-Property.

She grinned back at him.

Lola
Honestly, Chuck, we've done this often enough, you can call me Lola.

Chuck War
Well, it's just I like to strike the right note of professionalism.

Lola
Oh, is that why you dress like an extra from the G.I. Joe cartoon?

Chuck War
Hey, this uniform --

He reflexively squeezed his eyes shut as a camera flash went off in his face.

Chuck War
Argh... hey! No pictures!

Lola
Al, cool it. Why don't you go take some more pics of the warehouse, I think there's some blast craters we missed.

The photographer wandered off.

Lola
Sorry, it's past his bed-time.

Chuck War
Photographers are a handful, aren't they?

Lola
Anytime they get to use a night-filter, they start getting excited... So, what's the story, Chuck? More conspiracies between local gangs and alien marauders?

Chuck War
Hey, you know I can't tell you the good stuff. Let's just say this one's pretty juicy. Or it would have been, if everyone had shown.

Lola
Oh? Li'l Dubya in there -- what was his name, Torplinsky? -- got stood up, eh?

Chuck War
Looks like it. I was getting worried I wouldn't get to shoot anything.

Lola
You poor thing. But they started flashing guns and coke around, so you jumped in?

Chuck War
Better than coke, they had a hundred grand in sea-salt in there.

Lola
Sea-salt?

Chuck War
Yeah. There's several fresh-water species with a lotta ready cash that get high off of sea-salt. Always looking for some new planet's oceans where they can score a buzz. Throw in a little dried seaweed, they go nuts.

Lola
You expect me to write that the City's paying to keep dried seaweed off the streets of Alpha Centauri? Sure.

Chuck War
Did I mention the seaweed's endangered?

Lola
Still not good enough. The public wants stuff they can actually be afraid of.

Chuck War
Make something up, then. Ask your buddy who covers the City Council meetings, he seems pretty creative. Anyway, I gotta go --

Lola
Oh, come on, Chuck! Give me some good stuff about the fight. Or something.

Chuck War
Sorry, Lola. I have SHVD forms to fill out, an LoH incident report, GC report to file --

Lola
Do them while you talk to me.

Chuck War
You'll distract me.

Lola
Flattery doesn't work on me, just ask my editor. C'mon, Chuck, you're the only super around here who gives half-coherent interviews. Just tell me what happened in your own words, it won't take ten minutes.

Chuck War
Hey, when I tell a good story, it takes twenty minutes.

Lola
Well, how should I know? You never talk to me, you're always riding off into the... moon set, or whatever. Come on, skip the forms for once and give me something to write about.

Chuck War
Well...

He studied her, standing in front of him. Radar would be squawking on the radio at any time, asking if the ffinch-ffirnian had been caught; the night was getting on, and it was rapidly becoming a choice between forms or sleep... Some part of his mind was making noises about the moonlight and Lola's golden tresses. He told it to shut up and made up his mind to turn her request down flat.

Chuck War
You know the oyster bar up Duthy?

Lola
The Quivering Immunologist?

Chuck War
Right. Buy me a beer and let me fill out the forms, and I'll tell you everything.

Lola
Fantastic! Thanks, Chuck.

She swatted him on the arm, and bounced past him.

Lola
Lemme go tell Al to go on without me, I'll be with you in a sec!

She took off back towards the warehouse. Chuck gave the moon a malicious glare as he went to warm up the Rig.

The next morning, Jim Evans, world renowned theoretical physicist, decided to trickle into the Maple Ridge Institute of High Energy Physics (his place of employment) bright and early at 11 AM. No sense wasting the day, he thought.

Upon his arrival he found his frequent collaborator, David Marcolin (nuclear chemist par excellance) reading the latest dispatch from the lads at Physical Review B in the coffee room. Evans sank into a chair nearby and sorted his mail.

Marcolin
Shambhala's smectite paper's in this week's Nature.

Evans
I'll bet it's rotten.

Marcolin
It's pretty good, actually. He confirms your last set of calculations.

Evans
There, I told you it was rotten. Those calculations were bilge. Smellyansky's code wouldn't know a temporally advanced orbiton excitation if you handed it to him with watercress around it... Hey, I've been invited to speak at the Second International Conference on Mass Nuclear Resonance in Crystals. You registered for that?

Marcolin
Yes, unfortunately.

Evans
Why "unfortunately"?

Marcolin
It's "unfortunate" if you're giving a talk. I'll have to go.

Evans
Lucky you. My talks are scintillating.

Marcolin
Maybe the first time you hear them... besides, if you're a guest speaker, I won't be there as Dr. David Marcolin, I'll be there as Dr. James Evans's pet nuclear chemist. Thanks a lot.

Evans
It's not my fault they asked me. If it bothers you that much, I'll say no.

Marcolin
No, it's an important conference. If they ask you, you should go.

Evans
Thanks, Dave, that's big of you. Look at it this way, if my shadow gets too penumbral for you, you can go out and live it up in the exotic foreign locale. Where's it being held again? Paris?

Marcolin
Boise.

Evans
Boise, Idaho?

Marcolin
Uh-huh.

Evans
Oh. Well, never mind, maybe Pirbright will be there. You can laugh at his toupee.

Marcolin
Super.

Evans glanced around. They had the coffee room to themselves.

Evans
You see the Globe and Mail this morning?

Marcolin
You mean what happened in Calgary?

Evans
That's the one. Looks like the Bronze Blader got his hindquarters handed to him.

Marcolin
No kidding. That Carpenter Ant character sounds like some serious bad news.

Evans
It sounds like he's got some serious shtick - proportional strength, speed and agility of an ant, plus those weird alien tools. Self-propelled saw blades, fully automatic nail gun, super-sharp chisels... Still, I would've thought the Blader could handle him.

Marcolin
Sounds like he just plain over-powered him. You hear the CTV report?

Evans
No.

Marcolin
SHVD says the guy's only 21.

Evans
Great Feynman's Ghost... still, that's the age you get started, isn't it? We were, what, almost that when the accident happened, right? Almost seven years ago! Zounds, DB, are we getting old?

Marcolin
I'm not saying that. What I mean is, if the media's not exaggerating, that's a serious set of powers that kid got handed if he knocked the Bronze Blader down first time out of the gate.

Evans
And he had to become a villain. Today's youth, DB... it's the Pokémon influence, mark my words. That and the hip-hop...

He pondered, chin cupped in his right hand in a pose reminiscent of Jack Benny.

Evans
Well, I'm sure the Blader won't let him get too far. He'll rally round, he's been doing this ten years, at least. A kid with wack powers and flash toys can't keep experience down.

Marcolin
You're starting to sound old.

Evans
I'm being optimistic! Jeez, what do you want me to say? "That's it, the villain's won, Calgary's a write-off?"

Marcolin
Settle down, I'm just teasing you. Go back to your physics fan club.

Evans checked his watch.

Evans
Almost time for lunch. Orient Café?

Marcolin
You buying?

Evans
Hear, now!

Marcolin
Hey, you stole my conference, you owe me!

Evans
So I do. Sure, I'll buy. Let's go.

Marcolin
Okay, gimme a sec. I just want to go check on something in the lab.

Evans appeared puzzled.

Evans
Lab?

Marcolin
Laboratory. You know, where scientists do work.

Evans
Ah! Right, I follow you. Make it quick, though. The noodles await.

Jim Evans returned to the office two hours later, stuffed full of noodles and ready to tackle the burning group theoretic solid state questions of the day. Two things leapt to his attention - the blinking message light on his phone, and the rubber skeleton sprawled across his chair.

Evans
Hullo, Doug. You here?

Doug
*gurgle*

Evans
You come in with Dave this morning, or is this one of those teleportation things that I don't want to know about?

Doug did not deign to reply. Checking his voice mail, he found a message from Katrina "Kate" Nereid requesting that he call her back after lunch. Transferring Doug from his chair to the corner of his desk, he settled in and proceeded to do just that. She answered in a business-like but lyrical voice, like, to Jim's ears, Milt Jackson on vibes, only more soulful.

Evans
Hey, you. It's Jim. What's up?

Kate
Hey, sweetie. I can't talk long, I have a meeting in something like five minutes. Is your heart still set on seeing the naked Inuit movie tomorrow night?

Evans
It's not crucial. It's playing till Sunday, and as long as I get to see you, I'll be happy.

Kate
Good. I was hoping you'd say that.

Evans
Uh oh. Boyfriend sense is tingling.

Kate
It should. Lola asked me if we'd double date with her, and I said we would.

Evans
Lola Lakefront-Property? What what?

Kate
I know. I was surprised too. But this guy she's been kind of sweet on for the last little while finally asked her out, and she wants us there for moral support.

Evans
You mean it's their first date?

Kate
I know it'll be awkward, but you gotta understand... Lola's all tough and reportery on the outside, but she's as inept as you are when it comes to dating.

Evans
Hey.

Kate
It won't be as awkward if we're there, anyway. At least that's her theory.

Evans
You're a brave girl. You know the guy?

Kate
No. She's only mentioned him a couple times, I've never met him before... oh, stop groaning. I'm sure it won't be as bad as all that.

Evans
I bet he's a pill.

Kate
You'll just have to out-pill him. Say you'll do it, please? When the coffee comes out, we'll ditch them and I'll take you for ice cream, promise.

Evans
Deal. I have to admit, I'm curious what kind of guy it takes to give Lola butterflies.

Kate
Me too. Thanks, Jim, you rock. I mean it.

Evans
I hope you do.

Kate
'kay, I gotta go. My supervisor's making faces at me over the edge of my cubicle.

Doug
*GURGLE*

Evans
That's okay, my other line is gurgling. I'll call you tonight?

Kate
Sure. Kissy noises.

Evans
Same to you. Bye.

Kate signs off, and he lowers the phone into its cradle. He raises an expectant eyebrow at his sensai.

Evans
Can I help you?

Doug
HE COMETH.

Evans
Sorry?

Doug
HE COMETH.

Evans
Who, Hans-Raoul? The Crustacean? Ernie Eaves? The mail guy?

Doug
*gurgle*

Evans
Oh, so that's all you have to say, huh? "He cometh" and then exit, gurgling inscrutably? You know, your last warning about black turtles never amounted to anything. I'm taking this with a grain of salt.

Doug
HE COMETH.

Evans sighed. He stood up and grabbed the rubber skeleton by the foot.

Evans
Okay, he cometh. I'll keep my eyes open. In the meantime, I have work to do, so you can go downstairs and utter indeterminately at Dave for the rest of the afternoon.

Slinging Doug over his shoulder, he headed for the door.

A battered blue pickup eased off the Lougheed highway and into the parking lot of the Haney Travel Lodge. Vince Scrauble shut off the engine and breathed a sigh of relief. He nudged his brother Corey in the ribs.

Vince
Hey, wake up. We're here.

Corey
Hnmm... huh?

Vince
We're here. Maple Ridge.

Corey rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up.

Corey
Finally... what time is it?

Vince
Five thirty. You were supposed to take over the driving two hours ago, remember?

Corey
Sorry.

Vince
Don't worry about it. You need your sleep. Gotta be rested up for the big night tomorrow.

Corey
Thanks.

Vince
I'll go get us a room. You wanna stay here and watch the stuff?

Corey
Sure.

They got out of the truck. Vince headed into the office as Corey walked around the truck, stretching his legs. He was tall and scrawny; it looked like his thin frame didn't have that much on it, but what was there was dense and efficiently muscled. His blond hair was buzzed close to his scalp, and his complexion was reddened slightly from the sun, giving his head the look of a bad-tempered peach. His brother Vince looked like an older version of Corey, who through inattention had allowed himself to develop a slight paunch, a moustache, and a mullet.

Corey gave the bed of the pickup a brief look-over. The tarp was still in place, concealing the boxes of rather unusual luggage that they'd hauled out of Calgary. They'd packed it in a hurry, but the load hadn't shifted too much.

While he waited, he took in the scenery - the distinctive skyline around him, and peaking between the buildings, the Golden Ears mountains. Hard to believe he was here. Heck, he still found it hard to believe all the stuff that had happened over the last two weeks, ever since he'd won that storage locker key from that strange-looking guy in a poker game. What he's have done if Vince hadn't been around, he couldn't say.

He was still staring into the distance when Vince returned.

Vince
All set, bud. Number 104, right over there, we won't even have to move the truck.

Corey
Great. You wanna move the stuff inside now, or wait until dark?

Vince
Pro'lly wait 'til dark. We don't want anyone getting nosy. It'll be okay for a couple hours, as long as we keep close by.

Corey
Good enough. Don't feel like lifting anything heavy right now anyway... Wanna get some grub?

Vince
You read my mind. There's a place across the road, let's go.

Half an hour later, under the influence of well-seared burgers, fries and coffee, Corey was feeling considerably more alert. Vince was quiet, keeping an eye on the truck across the road from their booth by the window. Corey let his thoughts wander back to where they'd been going in the parking lot.

Corey
Hey, Vince.

Vince
Yeah.

Corey
I've been thinking about that guy... y'know, the one we got all this stuff from.

Vince
Right. Heh, I wonder if they've found him yet?

The night after the poker game, Vince had convinced Corey to go to the storage locker and see what was in it. It was there they'd found the stuff, now riding in the back of the pickup. They also found the stranger, lying in wait for them with a weapon. He was trying to get the key to his stuff back, but he apparently wasn't expecting two brothers who were good with their fists. One thing led to another, and the fight ended when the stranger cracked his head on the edge of a metal storage crate. It was Vince's idea to finish packing the stuff into the truck and leave the body (and the key) inside the empty locker.

Corey
I've been thinking... I don't know if that guy was a human being.

Vince
What makes you say that?

Corey
Think about it -- he looked really weird. Like, his arms were too long for his body. And his face just looked, I dunno, strange. Like you couldn't tell how old he was. And the way he dressed, like all his clothes were ten years out of date. And his hair looked it it'd been cut with a weed-whacker. It's like he was trying to blend in with normal people but wasn't getting it quite right, you know?

Vince
Cor, you just described all the guys who hang out in front of the Sally Ann all day.

Corey
Yeah, but how many of them have lockers full of stuff like that? I think he was an alien. From outer space.

Vince nodded.

Vince
All joking aside, you're probably right. Plus there was that gun he pulled on us. That didn't look like anything you'd see in "Field and Stream", that's for sure.

Corey
You still got that?

Vince nodded and patted his leg.

Vince
Yep. Right here.

Corey
You tried it out yet?

Vince
No. I'll get around to it. I've been too busy setting you up, haven't I?

In truth, he was too scared to actually fire the thing. For one, he was only 75% sure which was the right end of the barrel. But Corey didn't need to know that.

Corey
No need to get touchy...

Vince
I'm not touchy. I'm just saying, right now we can't let ourselves get distracted by things like aliens. You, my friend, are on your way. We gotta keep our eyes on the prize.

Corey lowered his voice.

Corey
You mean Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy?

Vince
That's the immediate goal. You keep your mind on taking them down. I'm thinking of the long term, which is making you the biggest bad-ass supervillain in North America. Yesterday got you some serious attention. Now that everyone's watching you, you gotta show them you're not just a fluke. You show them you're serious. After tomorrow night, they'll know that. We'll just have to wait for the Big Boys to start calling. Then there'll be no stopping you.

Corey
I like it when you talk like that, man... Hey, Vince, you don't want to take over the world, do you?

Vince stopped with his coffee halfway to his lips.

Vince
No, don't be stupid. Why do you say that?

Corey
Isn't that what supervillains want?

Vince
Yeah, well, some of them. Why, you wanna take over the world?

Corey shrugged.

Corey
I dunno. Might be kinda cool.

Vince
Forget it. You've seen on the news what a pain in the ass it is being Prime Minister, or the President of the US. And that'd be small potatoes compared to the whole world. And be realistic, Cor, you're bad, but a couple of super-nail-guns aren't gonna conquer the world.

Corey
I guess you're right.

Vince
Trust me, it's enough being the Big Noise and pulling in all the dough. You gotta be either crazy or have a multi-national corporation, or both, to take over the world.

His brother shrugged again.

Corey
Okay. Just askin'.

Vince
Fair enough.

He finished his coffee.

Vince
Let's get outta here.

Kate Nereid, as her boyfriends quickly discover, is a master of strategy. And fearless to boot, thought Jim Evans as he locked his car. Knowing how badly one West Hammond seafood restaurant had turned out for their first date, she still consented to join Lola and her mystery man at another for theirs. Beringar's wasn't quite the four-star establishment the Haddockery was (despite the more pretentious name), but it's reputation was excellent nonetheless.

But on to the strategy. Kate had planned the arrivals so as to minimise awkwardness and maximise her own opportunities for information gathering. She and Lola would arrive at the restaurant together, allowing her to sufficiently brace her friend. The mystery man would arrive shortly after - joining two people is less intimidating than three, Kate reasoned, and still more relaxed than joining Lola alone. Then, after a time sufficient to break the ice (and for Kate to form an opinion) but not long enough for Kate to start feeling like a third wheel, Jim would arrive, completing the party. Jim thought perhaps the scheme was a tad convoluted, but was told that a simple male would be unable to grasp the subtleties. He agreed.

Kate met him at the door.

Evans
Hi!

Kate
Hey! I saw you getting out of the car and decided to meet you. Give them a few moments alone.

Evans
Going well, is it?

Kate
Very. He seems very nice.

Evans
Not pill-like?

Kate
Come on, make up your own mind.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the restaurant. Evans spotted Lola and a large blond man in a navy suit at a table for four. He looked vaguely familiar. Jim nearly tripped over his own feet when he realised who the man was.

Kate
Careful, sweetie... Chuck, this is Jim.

If Chuck War was surprised to see him, it didn't show. Evans, on the other hand, looked as if an astronomer had just confided to him that Copernicus had drank heavily and Ptolemy had been right all along. Chuck rose and shook his hand.

Chuck War
Nice to meet you.

Evans
Likewise. I like your suit.

Chuck War
Thanks.

Evans
Hi, Lola.

Lola
Hey. Glad you could make it.

Evans
Sorry if I'm a bit late. I had some things to finish up at the, er, work.

Lola
Don't worry about it. We just ordered the wine. House red okay with you?

Evans
Super. Er, right.

Kate
Sit down, dear.

He was surprised to find he was still standing. As he lowered himself into a chair between Kate and Chuck, he couldn't help but glance under the table. Not only was Chuck wearing loafers rather than boots, but he couldn't even find any hint of his ever-present Argon Blast Cannon. Maybe he'd stowed it under the seat...

Kate
Jim?

Evans
Oh ah! Yes, well! Here we all are. Isn't this jolly?

Kate
You had way too much tea again this afternoon, didn't you?

Evans
Ah... sorry.

She rolled her eyes.

Kate
Jim's a theoretical physicist. Apparently they live off of caffeine and sugar.

Evans
Fuels the progress of science, you know.

Lola
If you say so.

Evans
What about you, Chuck? What do you do?

He smiled politely.

Chuck War
I'm a customs agent.

Evans
For Canada Customs?

Lola
Yes, Canada Customs. I met Chuck when I was working on a story about --

Chuck War
Mattress tags.

Lola
Exactly. You know, the ones that say 'Do Not Remove Under Penalty of Law'?

Chuck War
They were being removed.

Lola
Right. By an international gang.

Evans
That sounds fascinating. I'd love to hear about it.

Chuck War
Well, it's an ongoing investigation. A lot of it is still classified.

Evans
Oh, too bad.

Kate
That's a great web-soap, by the way.

Chuck War
What is?

Kate
Do Not Remove... oh, don't make that face, Jim. He has a passionate hatred for web-serials.

Chuck War
Actually, I read Degrassi Street Reborn.

Lola
Get out, you don't.

Chuck War
It's true. It's my secret vice.

Lola
I won't hold it against you. I always pegged you more as a Commander Proton or Darren Hammer fan, though.

Chuck shook his head.

Chuck War
Nah. Too much like my regular job... uh, the cop stuff in it, I mean. I like something that's completely escapist and without any literary merit.

Evans
No worries there, then.

Kate
Excuse me for a second...

Lola
Ooh, bathroom break? Hang on, I'll join you. You guys carry on the web-lit debate, we'll see you in a bit.

The women were barely out of sight when Chuck punched Evans in the arm, hard.

Evans
OW!

Chuck War
Will you stop being such a spaz?

Evans
Sorry! You threw me off guard! I don't react well when my personal life and my secret identity collide!

Chuck War
No kidding! And "What do you do, Chuck", what the hell is that all about?

Evans
I'm trying to make conversation! Look, what the heck are you doing here, anyway?

Chuck War
What do you think I'm doing, I'm on a date!

Evans
With Lola Lakefront-Property?

Chuck War
Yes, with Lola!

Evans
Since when has this been going on?

Chuck War
Never mind that now.

Evans
You could have warned me, you know.

Chuck War
I would have, but when she asked if I minded a double date with a friend of hers, I didn't think she meant Kate!

Evans
All right. Never mind. We'll work around it. You're not driving the War Rig tonight, are you?

Chuck laughed.

Chuck War
No. I'm in the Taurus... And I managed to convince Radar to cover my beat tonight. What about DB, he going it alone?

Evans
Helium Girl's with him. He prefers having a partner. Oh, I told him to call you if anything came up and he needed back-up.

Chuck War
Ha. Boy, is he in for a surprise. Ah, I wouldn't worry too much. It's been pretty quiet lately.

Evans
Yeah. I don't expect anything to happen that they can't handle on their own... Here come the women. Look conversational.

Chuck War
Right.

Had the housekeeping staff of the Haney Travel Lodge seen room 104, they would have expressed strong disapproval. It was currently resembling less a motel room and more a Galactic Customs clearance sale. Open crates and various strange pieces of equipment seemed to occupy every spare bit of space. In the centre of the room, Vince was helping his brother Corey don a ffinch-ffirnian infantry exoskeleton. With its dark red colour, and twin sensor stalks on the helmet, he looked like a giant ant.

Corey slipped the visor down over his eyes and regarded himself in the mirror. He had to squat down to see his face - the exoskeleton added a full two and a half inches to his already six foot two height. He tapped the side of the helmet and a read-out appeared on his visor. At first it flashed a sequence of unreadable characters at him, then refreshed and changed to English. Badly translated, but adequate to tell him that all systems were functioning.

Corey
I look all right?

Vince
Dangerous, man. Very dangerous. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy are gonna think twice about messing with you. Here, put on the apron...

He held out a large-sized carpenter's apron, made of red material. Corey flipped the visor up and looked at his brother in exasperation.

Corey
For Christ sake's, Vince, I'm not wearing that damn apron.

Vince
C'mon, man! You're the Carpenter Ant!

Corey
It's retarded. I don't need it, cause I've got the tool belt...

He slapped the grey metallic belt buckled around the exoskeleton's waist.

Corey
... not to mention it covers up the logo.

He indicated the image of an ant carrying a hammer that they had stencilled on the chest plate. They'd had to restencil it that day, since it had been scorched off in his last battle with the Bronze Blader.

Vince
Corey, what's Mom gonna say if she sees you on TV without the apron? She made it for you.

Corey
Real supervillains don't wear aprons. Mom will understand. Plus it's a fire hazard. C'mon, start loading me up.

Vince
Okay, okay.

He began the process of clipping various tools to his brother's belt - nail gun, replacement clips, throwing chisels, hammers, saw blades, sander, drill bits. Last of all, he stuck a walkie-talkie in a loop near his brother's hip.

Vince
Okay, this is important - don't lose the walkie-talkie this time. It's the only way we can stay in touch.

Corey
I did all right last time.

Vince
You got off a couple lucky shots. We'll have to rig up something a lot better than this in the future. Maybe after tonight I'll have the money to get a decent radio system.

Corey
Yeah, something that can't be picked up on police scanners?

Vince
We gotta make do. That's why we use this sparingly.

He stepped back and regarded his charge.

Vince
You ready?

Corey
Yeah. I'm ready.

Vince
Thatta boy. Let's give'em hell.

Next episode: Action! Danger! Romance! Explosions! Small talk!

All in Part II of...

All's Fair in Love and War
Same Hydrogen Time... Same Hydrogen Website!