[ Jim's note: Takes place after "The Jewel of Vanier" and "Chaos Wears a Red Bow Tie" (episodes 25 & 26). Thanks POTU! ]

08/09/2000

Pieceoftheuniverse now presents, in a rip-off of a JIMbot production:

Happy Birthday, Dear Hydrogen Guy!

Deep in the Hydrogen cave, overlooking the underground river just
south-southwest of the patio, lit brightly by several halogen bulbs and, on
this special day, an ultraviolet tanning lamp, lies our hero, basking in
the artificial rays.  For this one relaxing occasion he is almost entirely
unclothed, the only remnants of his suit to be seen is, of course, his mask
and tights.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Well, what do you want, me running around naked in the cave?

Sarcastic quips aside, today is an auspicious day for our man in blue, and
for more reasons than he already might suspect.  For suddenly, out of the
shadows steps...

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Surprise!

Showing, not for the first time, not only his cunning speed but several
fine reasons why you don't sneak up on a superhero, Hydrogen Guy leaps ten
feet in the air, smashes into the ceiling, and hits the patio deck with a
less-than-satisfactory *SMACK*.

HYDROGEN GUY:
[groan]

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Oh, sorry there, HG, I keep forgetting how tense you are after those long,
unspecified trips to the middle of Nowhere, Canada.

He helps Hydrogen Guy to his feet, and, when those prove far too unsteady,
the chair.

HYDROGEN GUY:
That's alright, DB.  Or should I call you DA, now?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Oh, you heard of that?  I thought the Steve Sheldon show didn't air in
Ontario...

Hydrogen waves it aside, as well as one can when wincing with every move.

HYDROGEN GUY:
I didn't get to be a superhero by lying on my back all day, DB.  Besides,
people tend to jabber around tourists, and I couldn't help but pick up on a
few things.  Pity about Steve, though.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Yeah, well, you know how it is: regular television program gets interrupted
by giant metal 'bot who just happens to be the biomechanical version of our
new assistant's boss, 'bot trashes studio, studio managers get mad, talk
show host gets fired.  How many times have we heard that tale?

HYDROGEN GUY:
But twice in one lifetime?  First the Johnny Carson show, and now this?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Things happen.  ICBC did a good job on the Carson cover-up, though,
especially considering it was a show from the States ... at any rate, how'd
your trip go?

Hydrogen Guy pulls his shirt out of nowhere in particular and begins to
painfully put it on.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Not bad.  Good guys: 1, Crustacean: 0.  The public press never even needed
to know.

A moderately comfortable silence ensues, and then:

HYDROGEN GUY:
Now, I know you didn't come in here to talk about my trip, or smash up the
Cave.  What's in the bag?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Oh, right.

He picks up the gift bag from where it fell and presents it to Hydrogen
Guy.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Happy birthday, Hydrogen Guy.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Aw, shucks, DB.  I thought we agreed ... ah, hell.

Proper platitudes now given, Hydrogen Guy snatches the bag from Deuterium
Boy's grasp.  Deuterium Boy jokingly counts his fingers, but seeing he is
being ignored in favor of the gift, drops the pretense.

HYDROGEN GUY:
What in the name of Newton ... 

DEUTERIUM BOY:
What?  What's wrong?

Hydrogen Guy upends the gift bag, and along with the various newspaper
shreddings and packing that normally fill such things, approximately seven
ounces of cocoa dust drift their way lazily to the ground.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Cocoa dust?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Not me.  It was a small model replica of Helium Girl.  You know, since she
went back to modeling and all...

HYDROGEN GUY:
Someone stole a vintage toy Helium Girl?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
And not only that, but entered the Cave.  I made it myself from some of the
fashion designer's robot scraps -- I never let it out of my sight for a
moment, until I put it in the bag.

HYDROGEN GUY:
When was that?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
About five minutes before I scared you into doing a Wild E. Coyote
impression on the ceiling.

HYDROGEN GUY:
So let's go over the possibilities.  One: the toy came to life and crawled
out of the bag.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
...and went to the kitchen, grabbed some cocoa powder, carted her ass all
the way back, put the stuff in the bag, and went to whereabouts unknown.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Or not.  Two: you were seriously absent-minded when you packaged the gift,
and grabbed the first thing that came to hand.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Which means the figurine should still be on my workbench.

Both traipse over to Deuterium Boy's corner -- well Hydrogen Guy still has
a limp, but he's mostly distracted from that by this little mystery -- and
encounter an absolutely terrifying mess.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Well, whoever was here was looking for something...

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Nah, I just haven't been cleaning while you were away.

He pushes aside some scrap metal to reveal a relatively clear area,
occupied only by a soldering iron and a welding torch.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Oh yes, and that reminds me: don't go near the bathroom here in the Cave. 
Use the one upstairs, if you have to go at all.

HYDROGEN GUY:
I don't want to know why seeing your welding torch brought that to mind, do
I?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
No.

A brief but noisy search ensues, revealing:

HYDROGEN GUY:
Well, I don't see anything -- or should I say, I see a -lot- of things, but
no sign of a small well-endowed humanoid statue.  I say, DB, ever think of
visiting the scrap yard?  They'll probably give you a good price for all of
this ... er, stuff.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
I had to be able to hide my little project in case you came back early.  I
didn't want to look suspicious.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Oh, no, the various bits and bobbles of sheet metal really blend in to the
hard rock surfaces around here.  Nice decorative touch.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
I thought we were supposed to be looking for your fsking gift.

Pause.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
I'm ... I'm sorry, HG.  I didn't mean ... sorry.

HYDROGEN GUY:
It's alright, DB.  I haven't been feeling myself, either -- short temper,
overly sarcastic, having this overwhelming urge to relax.  Do you know I
actually sat down and watched a disaster movie last night?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
What?  All the way through?

HYDROGEN GUY:
Yes.  And not even so much a stirring of helplessness of not being able to
help the purely fictional characters.  Odd, that.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
I've noticed you've been a bit jumpy lately, as well.

HYDROGEN GUY:
What tipped you off?  The hole in the ceiling?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Not just that.  Ever since you got back, you've been acting increasingly
paranoid.  I've never seen the like.

HYDROGEN GUY:
I have been feeling a bit stressed lately.  For some reason I want to put
it down to the feeling I got seeing Crustacean peel away in that van,
but...

DEUTERIUM BOY:
What?  Did he threaten your life?

HYDROGEN GUY:
I'm far too experienced to let a little death threat go down the wrong
way.  No, this was something more.  It wasn't so much when he pulled away
as the day after, back in my hotel suite.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
I've been meaning to ask you: why -did- you stay an extra couple of weeks? 
Why didn't you come back straight away?

HYDROGEN GUY:
What are you talking about?  I did come straight back.

Deuterium Boy shakes his head.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Didn't I?

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Think about it.  You left July twenty-fourth, and today's your birthday...

HYDROGEN GUY:
There's only one possible explanation for all that lost time.

TOGETHER:
Crustacean!

There is an awful squeal, as if from a microphone feedback, and then:

CRUSTACEAN:
That's right, Atomic Duo; I have come to wreak my vengeance upon you for
upsetting what was otherwise a perfect heist.  And for causing me to be so
upset I had to kill my favorite panda.

HYDROGEN GUY:
Nice try, crabapple, but I don't think even you have a soft spot for
bamboo-masticating marsupials.

CRUSTACEAN:
Perhaps you're right -- but that doesn't mean I can't be especially evil to
you anyway.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Show yourself, lobster-boy!

CRUSTACEAN:
That's Crustacean!  And besides, I'm not really here.  I spent all last
week piecing together a special transmitter to exact my revenge, whilst
altering your behavioral patterns slightly.

HYDROGEN GUY:
A transmitter?  Since when do diabolical telepathic terrors like yourself
need transmitters to send voice and sound?

CRUSTACEAN:
The transmitter works on a very special radio frequency: the signal
vibration of hydrogen.  Whilst you were under my control, I placed a
receiver -- with, naturally, a miniature explosive device -- deep within
your inner ear.  When cued by the signal, boom!  Instant hydromatic pate.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Why are you telling us this?

CRUSTACEAN:
As for you, "Avenger," when have you ever showed so much as a modicum of
artistic talent?  When was the last time you even dared to sketch, for fear
of the laughter of your peers?  And you you so easily accept that you were
able to sculpt a replica of Helium Girl from no more than a few scraps of a
poorly-constructed semi-automoton and a few primitive tools.  Fool.

DEUTERIUM BOY:
Then I didn't...

CRUSTACEAN:
No.  In fact, Helium Girl doesn't really exist, except in your deluded
fantasies.  All just the way your mind attempted to cope with my
interference --  and thereby helped me devise of the perfect hiding place
for said transmitter.

HYDROGEN GUY:
You haven't answered our question: why tell us this?

CRUSTACEAN:
I have a weakness for birthdays.  If I had done a little more research, I
would have found out that our days of creation coincided, which is really
the only explanation for how you've been able to beat me time and time
again.  Your death was to be my birthday present.  But I've had a change of
heart.

HYDROGEN GUY:
How kind of you.

CRUSTACEAN:
I'm allowing you to live, by disintegrating the transmitter into little
brown flakes.  Happy Birthday, Hydrogen Guy.

There is another agonizing squeal, and a microscopic dust-like nodule
bounces its way harmlessly out of Hydrogen Guy's ear.  He eyes it for a
moment, then crunches it beneath his heel.

HYDROGEN GUY:
I'm sure it was a great statue, DB, no matter what he says.  C'mon, let's
go down to the cafe.  I could really use some hot chocolate right about
now...

[fade to black, roll credits]