Chapter 1

Year 3p

He was flying through a perfect blue sky, over lush forests and rolling hills. He swooped and dove, turned barrel rolls, laughing at the feel of the wind in his hair. The warm wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms.

He heard a female voice call his name. He banked, and saw a flock of winged girls – gorgeous, naked, long-haired, with beautiful white feathered wings, playing an aerial game of tag a couple hundred feet away. He grinned and flew towards them. Yes, it was one of them who'd called him – the one with the red hair. She smiled suggestively and beckoned to him, calling him again.

"<Kentaro-kun!>"

Something was pushing him. Must be the wind picking up. He could hear it moaning through the tree branches below.

"<Kentaro-kun!>"

It wasn't the wind. Someone was jostling his shoulder. He wasn't flying, either. The sky had vanished, along with the cherry blossoms, the trees, the girls... The only thing left was the female voice calling his name, and that moaning sound. He was lying in bed, barely awake, and not happy about it. He made a moaning sound of his own.

"<Kentaro-kun, he's doing it again.>"

He opened his eyes. He was lying on his side. A teenage Japanese girl was standing beside his bed, shaking him. She wore an oversize T-shirt with some sort of frog on it, and a pair of Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms. The sound came from downstairs, and he now vaguely recognized it as music.

He brushed a feather away from his face. "<Well, go tell him to knock it off. What time is it?>"

"<Five-thirty.>"

"Jeezus..." He rolled over on his back and folded his left wing over his face. "I never thought it'd bug him that much..."

"Go make him stop, Kentaro!" she said in English.

"Make him yourself..."

"<You're the one he's mad at,>" she said, switching back to Japanese.

"<I need to get some sleep, Tamiko. I'm travelling tonight.>"

"<Yeah, well I have to go to school in three hours.>"

Kentaro grumbled. What'd I do to deserve this? he silently wondered. Three years ago, he didn't have a care in the world except which girl to go out with each night and how to spend the large sums of money he was pulling in. Now, it felt like he was suddenly a teenager again, complete with surrogate little sister and eccentric elder relative.

Well, he'd have to get this over with sooner or later, and if he sent Tamiko down he'd just be delaying the inevitable.

"<Fine,>" he said, rolling off the bed. "<But you're making breakfast.>" Further complaints from Tamiko were cut off by his sweeping wings, which forced her to jump back to the bedroom doorway to avoid being bowled over. She growled in exasperation and left him to get dressed.

Kentaro slipped on a robe – one with slits sewn in the back for his large, pigeon-mottled wings – and a pair of slippers, and headed downstairs. The house was an old farmhouse, one of many to be found around rural Ontario. It was owned by people who worked for his father, and was frequently used by associates of his family who needed some quiet and relaxation away from the beaten track. And the authorities. Though, obviously, quiet was in short supply this morning.

The noise that had woken Tamiko came from the living room. In the hall it was easily identifiable as someone playing something Mozartian on the accordion, and playing particularly well. Unfortunately, it is impossible to appreciate classical accordion at five-thirty in the morning, no matter how well-played.

"Little early for all that, isn't it, Doc?" The living-room's occupant, accordion on his knee, turned to look at Kentaro as he came in. He looked mildly surprised.

"Good morning, Kentaro. Did I wake you?"

"Kinda, yeah. Tamiko asked me to come ask you to keep it down."

"Oh dear," said Dr. Brandin Marlowe. "I was unaware that the sound carried upstairs. Tamiko's never said anything about it before." He looked genuinely distressed. He was a very large man, obese, and wore a sort of long smock like an over-sized Hawaiian shirt, complete with flowers and leaping swordfish, voluminous white pants, and sandals. It wasn't his sleepwear; despite it being nearly -20 °C outside, this was how he always dressed. He only rarely left the house.

"Yeah, well," said Kentaro. "She's still got a lot of that pre-war Japanese culture in her. She's too polite to tell her respected elders to shut the hell up." Why he seemed to be immune to that, though, he couldn't say. She'd never said anything about having brothers of her own to fight with.

"I must apologise to her."

"Don't, you'll just upset her," said Kentaro. "My grandma's the same way... What's bothering you?" Marlowe usually took to his accordion or violin when he wanted to think.

"Nothing, nothing, Kentaro, I assure you."

"It's about the plan, right?"

Marlowe sighed. "No, no. While I may not approve of your scheme to break Camus out of the SOIL and bring him here, I can do nothing else. Considering that you liberated me from a halfway house, I have no moral authority. I do wish, for practical purposes, that you would wait until spring."

Kentaro shook his head. "No. I've left him there too long already. Now that I've figured out how to move him, there's no excuse... I just wish I knew what's happened to Georges."

Three years ago, Kentaro Ishida had been one third of a syndicate know as Chimera, Inc., based on the west coast. His partners, like him, had been subjects of exotic body-work with little memory of how they got that way – Camus, an imperfectly-made centaur with an Ivy League education, and Georges Chouinard, a Québecois ex-mercenary who now had the head of a large dog. Chimera met an ignoble end thanks to some Canadian superheroes and a pair of cops from San Francisco. Both Camus and Chouinard were sent to superhuman-specific prisons. Camus's family were wealthy, and could afford good lawyers, and ended up in the Southern Ontario International Life-term, where he met Marlowe. Chouinard, on the other hand, had no such advantage, and was sent to the Facility, located in the middle of the Nevada desert. It was regarded as a hell-hole.

Kentaro, meanwhile, had been presumed dead in Alaska's far north (long story), and remained a free agent. He'd spent much of the last two years working on ways to get his former partners out – Kentaro firmly believed in the principle of no man left behind. It was a formidable challenge – both were prisons with notoriously high security. He first made contact with Camus, who convinced him to break Marlowe out of the halfway house where he'd just been transferred. Marlowe was a physician expert in mutant and metahuman physiology – something Camus needed – and, Camus suggested, may be able to help them find out who had transformed them into their current states. Kentaro followed Camus's suggestion and brought Marlowe to his family's safe house not far from Ottawa.

Not long after, Kentaro had travelled to the Facility to find Chouinard. He made contact with a man in Boise who'd given him the key to entering and exiting the Facility. The trick worked as promised, but Chouinard was gone. And Kentaro could find no clue to where. Frustrated, he'd then gone on to San Francisco to regroup and get in touch with some old friends and contacts – people who might know what'd happened to Chouinard, or who knew how to get a three-hundred pound centaur out of a maximum security prison unnoticed. That's when his father got him mixed up with Tamiko (longer story).

Two years later, he'd solved the Camus problem and was poised to set the solution in motion; he still had Tamiko on his hands (yet another long story); and he still had no idea what had happened to Georges Chouinard. Marlowe had proved his worth; after examining Kentaro, he announced that, despite differences in the quality of "the work", Kentaro's wings and Camus's horse-body were very likely the product of a common author.

"How can you tell?" Kentaro had asked him.

"My dear Ishida, I am practically the father of the meta-eugenics field; there is a reason I am called the Mutant Maker. I recognise patterns in the construction, cellular signatures, if you will, that remain constant despite a clear advancement in technique between the genesis of Camus and yourself. I would be fascinated to examine your third partner, to see where he falls on this scale of progression."

Any attempt to examine Georges would probably leave Marlowe with one less hand, Kentaro thought. Or worse. "So you seen this signature anywhere else?"

Marlowe shook his head. "No. It gives me no clue to the author. Clearly it is someone familiar with my own work, but that's to be expected."

Since then, Marlowe had acted as physician to both Kentaro and Tamiko. He couldn't speak for Tamiko, but Kentaro felt better than he had in years. In exchange, Kentaro let Marlowe stay in the farmhouse and kept an eye out for anyone who seemed a little too nosy. All three of them had good reasons not to be discovered. Marlowe had other patients, too. There were a few people from the area, neighbours, mostly. But every so often a strangely-shaped figure would appear on the doorstep, shrouded in clothes, and Marlowe would hustle them into the study he used as an examining room; or he would receive a cryptic message on the answering machine, and some hours or days later he would disappear into the old barn with a bag of medical supplies, supplied by Kentaro's family contacts. Neither Kentaro nor Tamiko usually saw these patients, but Kentaro knew who they were – mutants, metahumans, people like Chimera, Inc. How they knew where to find Marlowe, Kentaro never knew, though the doctor assured him that the lines of communication were unofficial and secure. Kentaro suspected his family may have been involved.

Some of these other patients showed similar "signatures" to Camus and Kentaro, though none, Marlowe said, as well made as he. "The author of your mutation seems to have either become more careful, or moved on to other projects," he said. "I have seen nothing more recent than you."

That was all Marlowe would say; he pleaded doctor-patient confidentiality. Kentaro wasn't sure how much more Marlowe knew, or had deduced; but he felt he had no choice but to trust him.

Something had changed in Marlowe's face just now when he mentioned Georges. "You hear something about Georges, doc?"

"No, Kentaro... I'm sorry, your situation simply reminded me of something. Late yesterday evening, while you and Tamiko were at the movies, I received a phone call from a former student of mine... It has left me somewhat unsettled."

"Bad news?"

"Yes."

"You want to talk about it?"

Marlowe smiled. "Kentaro, your bedside manner has improved tremendously. No, it's nothing of consequence, she simply told me that she had undertaken a military project about which I have deep reservations. She offered me a role in the project, and I refused."

"She take it okay?"

"Ah... Eileen was never one to accept refusal lightly."

Something in his expression made Kentaro grin. "Oh, so it was like that, eh, doc?"

Marlowe flushed. "No, it was certainly not! She was my PhD student, during that brief time I was on the University of Toronto faculty. Extremely brilliant, but with an unmanageable temper. You might say the woman had issues."

Kentaro laughed. "They all do, doc. They all do."

Tamiko flitted past on the way from the stairs to the kitchen. She'd changed into her school clothes.

"Ah, Tamiko," said Marlowe. "Please accept my apologies for waking you."

There was a brief silence from the kitchen. "It's all right," came the quiet reply.

"You putting coffee on, Tamiko?" Kentaro called

"Yes!"

Marlowe put his accordion down and heaved himself to his feet. "My dear, don't bother yourself. Let me make pancakes to atone for my caterwauling." He headed for the kitchen.

"No, Doctor, it's okay! I don't mind."

"Nonsense, dear, here - "

Kentaro left them to fight it out over who was politest. It was a pitched battle whenever European chivalry went up against Asian filiality. Meanwhile, he thought, he'd go upstairs and try to get back to sleep. Maybe he'd see the redhead again.

"I wouldn't have minded something less conspicuous," said Chuck War.

"Yeah, well," said Hydrogen Guy. He rubbed his neck and stretched his shoulders. He was still stiff from being tossed onto a parked bus from several hundred meters up by the Carpenter Ant three days ago. Even part-way to the density of hydrogen gas, it had left him with sprains and bruises. "Ned does things however he wants, laws of nature or Galactic Customs be damned," he said.

"I've only had my old rank back a couple weeks," said Chuck. "I don't want to lose it again for letting a spaceship land in the middle of town."

"I thought you said Kamparthya had similar technology to Earth's," said Deuterium Boy. "No FTL spaceships."

"Like HG said, Ned does things however he wants... I wouldn't put it past him to show up in a Thyrix drop-ship, just to get a rise out of us. Or a Zxanxi War Crab. Or, hell, Gort's ship from Day the Earth Stood Still."

"Ned's got a more contemporary style. It'd be the Millennium Falcon," said Deuterium Boy. "Or Serenity."

"The P-Funk Mothership," said Hydrogen Guy. "It has to be. With Sun Ra riding shotgun."

They stood in front of Maple Ridge's main downtown SkyTrain station. Chuck was wearing his Galactic Customs dress uniform. It was just a few minutes before noon on a Friday afternoon; the day was cold and clear, the winter sun illuminating the busy street in high definition. People passed them on the sidewalk, going in and out of the station as the trains came and went; vehicle traffic on the street was at its usual stop and start. Not a few passersby wondered what the city's four most famous superheroes were doing loitering around the station.

"Couldn't he, like, just appear with them in the Cave?" asked Helium Girl. "He totally does that all the time. Ooh!"

She pointed at a tourist shop across the street. "I should, like, totally run over and buy her a Maple Ridge t-shirt! That'd totally be a cool welcome gift, don't you think?"

Deuterium Boy looked at his watch, which currently hid one of his own bruises from the other night's fight. Helium Girl, of course, had escaped unscathed.

"It's almost twelve. Ned claimed he'd be here at exactly noon, local time. Anyway, you don't know her size."

"Or how many arms she has," said Hydrogen Guy. "Or torsos."

"The Kamparthyans are humanoid," said Chuck. "I made sure of that before I agreed she could come."

"They'd have to be humanoid to have Elemental genes," said Deuterium Boy. "They're an Augustan nursery world, same as Earth."

"Isn't their planet, like, thousands of light years away?" asked Helium Girl.

"Almost a third of the away around the Galactic Rim," said Chuck.

"So, like, way too far to just drive."

"Riight."

"Oh." Helium Girl was peering up into the sky, shading her eyes with her hand. "Cause, like, there's a flying car heading this way."

The others followed her gaze. A boxy yellow sedan was sailing serenely through the air overhead, its wheels a dozen stories above the asphalt. The cab banked past the Canada Trust building and weaved around a pair of multi-story luxury condominiums as if they were traffic cones. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy's hands dropped to their weapons; Chuck looked like he wished he'd brought his argon blast cannon. Helium Girl simply watched the cab's approach. No one else on the street seemed to take any notice of it.

The taxi swung over the street several blocks away, now only a couple stories above the ground. It seemed to be coming in for a landing. Just beyond traffic light a block from the station, it swooped down to street level, cutting off a red SUV. The SUV's horn blared as the cab's wheel's touched down. The cab pulled up to the curb in front of the station, bumped the curb, and rolled to a halt in a loading zone. The back windows were tinted, obscuring the passengers, but the driver was clearly visible – Ned. He turned on the blinkers and hopped out the driver's door. He was dressed in a beaten leather jacket, an old-looking checked shirt, jeans and loafers, a peaked driving cap on his head. He waved cheerily.

"Someone call for a cab?" he asked. Deuterium Boy would swear he could hear Hydrogen Guy's teeth grinding from six feet away.

"Don't you have any idea what 'discrete' means?" he said.

Ned shrugged. "Don't worry. It's 'taken care of'," he said in finger quotes, then pointedly glanced around. People were still walking by, traffic was still flowing, all as if no one had seen anything unusual about the cab at all. "Now don't just stand there, you cretins, come meet your guests."

He opened the rear passenger door, reached in and helped the first passenger out.

The four heroes goggled. It wasn't any alien strangeness of Ned's passenger that caused their reactions; aside from her deep blue skin colour, she looked like an entirely normal young human woman. A very tall, robust, impossibly gorgeous blue-skinned young human woman.

She was almost a half inch taller than Chuck War, tallest of the four humans. Her hair was long and silvery blonde, loosely tied at the back with two small braids pinned up at the side of her head. She was dressed in a simple slip-like white dress which came down below her knees, just above the tops of her fur-trimmed grey boots. She wore a light half-jacket over the dress, grey with a red trim. She smiled nervously, making her face look like a young girl's on the first day at a new school. The word "angelic" entered Hydrogen Guy's mind. He glared at it and it scurried back to where it came from.

Helium Girl was staring open-mouthed. "Good thing you didn't buy her that t-shirt," Deuterium Boy murmured. Helium Girl shut her mouth and growled at him.

The young woman stepped aside, and a small mountain emerged from the back seat. Blue-skinned with hair the same colour and length as the woman's, he was dressed in a GC dress togs like Chuck War. Aside from the uniform, though, he looked like a full-fledged space barbarian. He had a thick handle-bar mustache and what looked like small tusks jutting out from his bottom jaw. He was extremely tall, broad, and muscular, and looked like he could pick up the cab and toss it into a legal parking spot in case a parking cop came along. Standing next to him, the girl seemed positively petite.

Oh, that's fair, thought Helium Girl in disgust. They get Venus, I get the frickin' Minotaur.

"My dear Elementals of Earth," said Ned. "Allow me to present to you the one and only Elemental of Kamparthya, Third Minister's Daughter M'Yescamai Izuuiubahinasakutan Kiumirusayamihimigal." He rattled off the long string of syllables without a pause. "Third Minister's Daughter, allow me to present your gracious hosts, Hydrogen Guy, Deuterium Boy, and Helium Girl."

He glanced at Chuck War and the mustached giant.

"Oh, and... the help. Galactic Customs agents, or something." Ned waved his hand dismissively. He turned and popped the cab's trunk with a finger snap, then started unloading the luggage.

The blue-skinned girl stepped forward and bowed. "Hello, Hydrogen Guy. Thank you for having at your planet," she said in an accent vaguely suggestive of northern Europe. She looked at Deuterium Boy.

He smiled gallantly and took her hand. "Deuterium Boy. And it's our pleasure to have you." Helium Girl rolled her eyes.

"I took the liberty of giving her a little English," said Ned, hauling an oblong metal box from the cab's trunk. It looked far too large to have fit inside in the first place.

Hydrogen Guy stepped forward and bowed in return. He hesitated a moment, trying to remember at least one of her names. He failed, but plunged ahead. "Welcome to Earth. I'm Hydrogen Guy. We're all very happy to meet you. I hope you had a good trip?"

Before she could respond, Helium Girl strode up to the Kamparthyan and stuck out her hand. "Hi! I'm Helium Girl. Welcome to Maple Ridge!"

The girl looked at Helium Girl's outstretched hand, then quickly dropped Deuterium Boy's and clutched Helium Girl's. She shook it enthusiastically. "Thank you, Helium Girl! This is Maple Ridge, your city?"

"Totally! Like, the first chance we get? We have to take you to see the sights. Do you like to shop?"

"Shop?"

"You know, like, go to stores and try on clothes and stuff?"

"Yes, this sounds like fun! Is this a festival you have?"

"Sweetie, any time you go shopping with me, it's a festival."

The alien girl smiled. She looked up at the buildings, the sky, and the bright winter sun. "It's so warm here," she said, even though it was barely 12° C. "Is it permitted to take my jacket off?"

"Of course," said Hydrogen Guy.

"I totally love your dress!" said Helium Girl. "It's, like, so elegant! The white, like, totally complements your blue skin."

"Oh, I totally thank you, Helium Girl. And you are... um, totally pink?"

Ned smirked. "I did say a little English..."

As the Elementals chatted, the large GC agent approached Chuck War. He spoke to him in the common Galactic Trade language, a basic tongue within the agency.

"<Lieut. War, I assume? I'm called Manuk. It's good to finally meet you.>"

Chuck took his outstretched hand. "<Likewise, Lieut. Manuk. How was the trip?>"

"<Unusual. Very... unusual.>"

Chuck grinned. "<Everything about this situation is unusual, isn't it?>" he said.

Manuk nodded. Chuck wondered if Kamparthya shared human customs like nodding and shaking hands, or if Manuk was just a careful study. "<Indeed,>" said the Kamparthyan, "<I do not trust this creature.>" He glanced surreptitiously at Ned.

"<If the decision were left up to me, Third Minister's Daughter wouldn't be here,>" he continued. "<But she is determined. She's eager to learn about these strange powers of hers. Regardless, I doubt my objections would stop either one of them.>"

"<I agree,>" said Chuck, returning the nod. "<I don't trust Ned either, and neither do my friends. One thing you don't need to worry about – we'll take very good care of her. You have my word.>"

Manuk smiled, showing all his teeth. Other than the two oversized incisors, they looked perfectly normal. "<I'll take your word, Chuck War! You should know that Third Minister's Daughter is more to me than just a citizen of Kamparthya... she is my sister.>"

He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced an electronic device about the size of a scientific calculator. He handed it to Chuck.

"<Here is the paperwork. Visas, luggage manifest, import declarations, all of it. It is as I indicated by wave yesterday.>"

"<Great. We've faked up a foreign birth certificate and local residency permit for her,>" said Chuck, pulling out a data pad of his own. "<The League of Heroes is still processing some of her stuff, which I'll wave to you once it comes through. Before her stay is over, I hope.>"

"<Very good. Gods, did you ever imagine when they handed you your weapon that half your life would be spent filling out and approving forms?>"

"<At least forms don't shoot back.>"

"<True. Frankly, I was surprised the agency even had an immigration protocol for when both planets are classed as developing worlds. Who would expect it to occur?>"

"<Manuk, it's a big Galaxy. GC has a form for everything.>"

Ned continued to pull M'Yescamai Izuuiubahinasakutan Kiumirusayamihimigal's luggage from the trunk of the taxi cab; by this time, he'd made a pile on the curb nearly as tall as the car. Maple Ridge urbanites continued walking by, maneuvering past the pile of alien luggage without giving it, or the two blue-skinned aliens that Hydrogen Guy, Deuterium Boy, Helium Girl, and Chuck War were talking to, much more notice than any other obstacle on the sidewalk. It must be some trick of Ned's, Hydrogen Guy decided. Not even Maple Ridgeans were that inured to the unusual.

As Chuck War conferred with Manuk, the Kamparthyan Galactic Customs agent, the Elementals were still trying to figure out what to call their beautiful new guest.

"While your full name is very lovely, it's also very long," said Deuterium Boy. He fibbed slightly; to him, her full name sounded like an exotic tropical disease, but Deuterium Boy was ever the diplomat. With Hydrogen Guy and Helium Girl for partners, he had to be. "What do people call you on Kamparthya?" he asked.

"Oh, I understand!" she said. "You want to know my cognomen?"

"Precisely," said Hydrogen Guy.

"My mother is Third Minister to our country's government, so I am called Third Minister's Daughter," said Third Minister's Daughter.

"Even your friends?" asked Deuterium Boy.

"Naturally, yes! Although, my very closest friends call me Sister, as do my brothers, naturally. And my parents simply call me Daughter."

Helium Girl looked puzzled. "Doesn't anyone call you M'Yescamai?" she asked.

Third Minister's Daughter's face turned a much deeper shade of blue. "Ah – ah – n-no, ah – " she stammered.

Helium Girl looked horrified, and Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy exchanged panicked looks. Manuk was watching them unhappily. Ned, meanwhile, had stopped unpacking and was leaning against the cab, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Ohmygod, I'm totally sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" said Helium Girl.

"No no no, it is okay! Ah, ah, there is totally no harm! I, um, we do not say our given or family names except in introductions..." said Third Minister's Daughter.

"I'm so sorry, Third Minister's Daughter! Like, on Earth we totally call each other by our names all the time! Um, except for supeheroes... Oh... this is totally complicated..."

"It is okay, Helium Girl! You do not know what is right for Kamparthyans."

"Er, Third Minister's Daughter," said Hydrogen Guy, "It's like this... When we wear these costumes, we call each other by our superhero identities. Our Elemental cognomens. Other times, we call each other by our names."

"I see," she said. "And you feel that on your planet, to call me Third Minister's Daughter is strange or, or too formal? Is that right?"

"Yeah, kind of," said Hydrogen Guy. "I'm sorry, I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable..."

"I understand what you mean, Hydrogen Guy," she said, very seriously. "If I am to stay on Earth, I have to pretend I am a, um, an Earthan. That means I must do things as Earthans do. Though... I cannot be called by my name." She looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, we are taught from little children that this is not done, except with very little children or between lovers alone..."

"It's okay," said Deuterium Boy, smiling.

"What you must do," she said, "You must call me Oxygen Girl. Like Helium Girl, is that right? And I will take an Earth name for others to call me by."

"Oxygen Girl," said Hydrogen Guy. "Excellent! We'll go into all the subtleties of Earth and Kamparthyan forms of address later."

"Yes!" Oxygen Girl nodded.

"We've prepared some Earth documentation for you," said Deuterium Boy. "We tentatively put you down as a second cousin of Helium Girl's named Olivia St. Claire. If you don't like it – "

"No, Deuterium Boy, that is very good," Oxygen Girl smiled. He nearly flinched; it was like being hit full force by a thousand-watt halogen spotlight. "Olivia is very close to the name of oxygen in our language, so it is well chosen."

"Whee!" Helium Girl let out a delighted squeal, bouncing up and down. "Yes! Ohmygod, I'm so excited to have another girl on the team!"

"Yes, isn't this a wonderful exchange of galactic culture and mutual understanding?" said Ned. "It's damned heartwarming. Now, I hate to break this up, but the meter's running." He looked at Manuk. "<I'm talking to you, Babe the Big Blue Ox.>"

Manuk glared at him.

"<You're welcome any time, Third Minister's Son,>" said Chuck War, shaking his hand a second time. "<I'll stand you a drink.>"

"<And I you on Kamparthya... but no one has called me that for years! Manuk is fine. It's what everyone in the agency calls me.>"

Chuck grinned. "<I'd be fascinated to hear how you got stuck with a Slaxian curse for a nickname...>"

"<Stand me that drink and I'll tell you!>"

The blue giant glared at Ned again, then stepped towards Oxygen Girl. //You have the hyperwave radio?// he asked in their native tongue.

//Yes, Brother. You packed it yourself and then checked it three times. Did you forget?//

//Be careful, and check in every night. You don't know what you could find on this world.//

//I'll be fine. It looks like a fun, peaceful world. I can handle it.//

//Ha! Didn't I ever tell you about the planet where – //

//You told me. They're waiting, "Manuk".//

He glowered. //Make sure these creatures treat you well. The GC agent seems all right. His reputation is excellent. The woman appears silly but harmless, but I don't trust the other two. Especially the long-haired one. //

//Oh just go, will you? Gods, you're a pain! If anyone lays a finger on me, I'll gut them with my long knife! Satisfied?//

Manuk grumbles. //No, but it'll have to do. Take care, Sister.//

//And you, Brother. Love to Mom and Dad!//

They hugged. Deuterium Boy, meanwhile, was staring at the mountain of luggage. "I'm not sure if all this is going to fit in the Tritium Truck...," he said.

"You need me to get the War Rig?" asked Chuck.

"I dunno. We might be able to do it if HG takes the SkyTrain."

"Hey!"

Manuk climbed back into the rear of the cab, and Ned ran around to the driver's door.

"I guess it's too much to ask for you to drive it out of town before you take off?" asked Hydrogen Guy.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ned. "That would just run up the meter. I am an honest cabbie, Hydrogen Guy."

As they spoke, a man in a suit rushed out of the SkyTrain station behind them. He looked around frantically, then spotted Ned's cab and sprinted over to it.

"Hey, are you going uptown?" he asked, out of breath. "I'm late for a meeting and I need to get to the Radisson as fast as possible!"

Hydrogen Guy stepped forward. "Sir, this isn't – "

"I'll tell you what, friend," said Ned, cutting him off. "I've got a fare already, but you're on the way. Hop in, no charge."

"Serious? Aw, buddy, you're a life-saver!"

The superheroes looked on in horror.

"Wait!"

"But – "

"Dude, no!"

He didn't hear them, but opened the door and hopped in next to Manuk.

"Ned!"

"Remember, kids," he said. "I'm counting on you. Kamparthya's counting on you. Ta! ... Sir, what floor is your meeting on?"

"NED!"

"The Radisson first!" thundered Chuck War.

"Yes, yes," Ned grumbled. He shut the door, and a second later the cab pulled away from the curb. It pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street, sparking a chorus of honks from the traffic he miraculously avoided, and started back down the block. Oxygen Girl and Helium Girl waved enthusiastically, while the others simply watched with varying degrees of irritation. The cab started rising into the air a block away, then took off in the direction of the Radisson Hotel at a steep upward angle.

Oxygen Girl waved until the cab's tail lights were lost in the sun reflecting off the glass office towers.

"It was nice, that cab," she said. "Your technology is so advanced! Do all your cars fly like this?"

Hello, Mrs. Schoonmaker!"

"Hello, Bert."

"You're here for the Taurus, right?"

"Yes. Is it all done?"

"Well, Mrs. Schoonmaker, I'm afraid we've got some bad news. Your Mobius belt is almost worn through on one side, yeah, it's in pretty bad shape. Also it looks like the Sierpinski gasket's extremely corroded. It's just full of holes."

"Oh, dear! That sounds expensive."

"Well, you're looking at about three or four hundred dollars altogether, depending on how bad the belt is. But the thing is, if you let this go right now, sometime down the line, maybe tomorrow, maybe six months from now, you're gonna lose the belt or pop the gasket, and then you'd be looking at a whole new differential manifold."

"Oh no! Really?"

"Yeah. And those things are really expensive, I'm talking a couple thousand bucks."

"You really recommend getting those things replaced?"

"Well, it's your call. But for safety's sake – I'm sorry, Mrs. Schoonmaker, can you excuse me a minute? I see Sully's waving at me from the bay..."

"All right... this is turning out to be an expensive oil change."

"I'll be right back."

"Sully, you moron, what's your problem? I was just about to get into the Schoonmaker broad for five hundred bucks!"

"Yeah, sorry about that, chief. Scrauble's out back. Says he's gotta talk to ya."

"Oh, Scrauble, eh? Yeah, I gotta few words to say t'him, too. Look, go talk up the old broad some more, will ya? Keep the pressure on. If she pulls the 'I gotta talk to my husband' routine, emphasize the stuff could go any minute!"

"Sure thing, chief."

Bert made his way to the back of the garage and out into the alley. Corey Scrauble was there, leaning against the back of his pickup truck. The back hatch was open, revealing the disassembled Carpenter Ant exoskeleton.

"Scrauble, what the hell you doin' here? There was a buncha feds here yesterday lookin' for you!"

"You didn't tell'em anything, did you, Bert?"

"I told'em the truth – that you were my employee, you ain't shown up in three days, and that you was fired!"

"You didn't tell'em about the suit, did you?"

"Hell no! What'd I tell them I was doin' maintenance on your Ant suit for? You think I wanna get arrested and get my garage shut down? They thought I was just a dumb mechanic... Now get the hell outta here an' don't come back! And if you think you're getting' your last paycheque, forget it!"

"C'mon, Bert! I got nowhere to go! The SHVD's watching my apartment. All I have left is my truck and this suit."

"You think I'm gonna let you stay here?! You are crazy! I got my cell phone right here, if you don't beat it, I'm callin' the cops – "

"Wait! All I want is some repairs!"

"To the suit?"

"Yeah."

"Let's have a looksee..."

Corey and the mechanic climbed into the back of the truck and hauled out the main components of the exoskeleton. Bert examined it closely.

"Hmmm... looks a little banged up, pretty superficial... you fall through a ceiling again?"

"Yeah..."

"Thought so... also got some explosive impact damage on the shoulder, that's no big deal... lost a wing, huh?"

"The big problem's with the helmet. It's pretty wrecked up, and without it I can't control the rest of the suit."

"Holy schmoly, is it ever wrecked up. What'd ya do, run face first into a locomotive?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"It ain't gonna be easy to fix. All that fancy alien computer hardware... I can do it for five grand."

"Five... ?!! Jesus, Bert!"

"Hey, I told ya, it's a tough job, plus I'm riskin' my butt, and everybody else here's butt, by just having the thing in the shop!"

"But you owe me back wages!"

"So take me to court!"

"Come on, Bert. I'm in a lotta trouble here!"

"That don't concern me, Corey. What about all that stuff you've been jacking since you got the suit back? You fenced it yet?"

"No! It's all at my apartment!"

"What about this 'mysterious benefactor' of yours, the one who gave you the suit? Mr. C, right? Why can't he pay for it?"

"I can't get in touch with him. He just left the suit in my apartment one day, and he's called on the phone a couple times. I don't have his number and I've never even seen'im. I had to ditch my cell anyway, 'cause if I used it, the cops could trace me."

"Then it looks like you've got a problem."

"Come on, Bert, can't you give me a break?"

"I'm giving you a break just by talkin' to you. Five thousand, Corey, take it or leave it. If you go away and come back, the price doubles."

Corey banged the side of the truck. "Just forget it, then! Thanks for nothing, Bert..."

"Nothin'? Hey, I could've ratted you out a week ago! I've been doing you a lotta favours, Corey, but this's the end of it!"

"This is all Hydrogen Guy's fault... and Deuterium Boy, and that frickin' Helium Girl!"

"Yeah, you ain't the first guy I heard that from."

"Thanks to those clowns I've lost my apartment, my job, my brother – "

"Look Corey, you wanna monologue, go do it someplace else. I got customers here, legitimate ones."

"All right, all right..."

They piled the suit back in the truck. Bert, just to show that he wasn't completely heartless, handed Corey a hundred dollars, which Corey pocketed grudgingly. His pride insisted he should throw it back in Bert's face, but reality was reality. He still peeled out on leaving the alley, though, just to make his feelings clear.

Bert wasn't concerned about the hundred dollars either way. He could always make it up from the Mrs. Schoonmakers.

Corey safely reached the run-down hotel where he'd been staying since giving up his apartment. His mood hadn't improved any. Sure, he was technically up a hundred dollars, but his suit was still mostly useless, as were his so-called "friends". Even his nail guns, always his favorite trick, were gone, dropped in the alley during his fight with the heroes.

It was looking more and more, he realized, that his only choice left was to get out of the city and out of the province. He'd go back to Alberta, hide out with friends or family...

As he sat brooding on the edge of his musty bed, there was a knock on the door. A solid, authoritative knock. Panic seized every nerve in his body. His tool belt lay on the floor in front of him; from it, he grabbed the pair of fighting hammers.

"Corey Scrauble?" called a voice from behind the door. It was raspy, cool and collected, with a distinct French accent. Corey recognized it.

"M-mister C?"

"You've been a difficult man to track down, Mr. Scrauble."

"How'd you find me?"

"You might say I'm part bloodhound. I understand things haven't been going so well for you, eh?"

"You got that right. Man, am I glad you're here!"

"Maybe you could show your appreciation by opening the door?"

"Yeah, sure!" He dropped the hammers on the bed and rushed to the door. He scrambled with the chains and deadbolt. "Sorry. Gotta be careful, there are cops looking for me everywhere..." He flung the door open.

Standing just outside the door, and filling practically the entire frame, was the largest, hairiest man Corey had ever seen. At least six feet seven inches tall, he had an enormous bushy beard and mustache, only slightly thicker than the hair on his heavily muscled arms, legs, and chest. Corey had an unfortunately good view of these, since the man wore only a pair of overly brief leather shorts, fur boots, and a fur hat decorated with a round pair of teddy bear ears. He looked like a professional wrestler on his way to cosplay night at the local leather bar.

The giant glowered at Corey and pushed past him into the room. Corey watched him lumber over to the window, where looked outside, then folded his arms and stared straight ahead, as if standing guard.

"You're... Mr. C?" asked Corey. This human grizzly bear didn't match his mental image of his benefactor at all.

"That would be me, Mr. Scrauble." The voice came from behind him, out in the hall. Corey turned around... and looked straight down the barrel of one of his own nail guns.

One final member of the Hydrogen Cave's retinue and the official Maple Ridge, Earth, Oxygen Girl Welcoming Committee had yet to make his appearance. The party (consisting of, from left to right, Hydrogen Guy, Deuterium Boy, Chuck War, Oxygen Girl, and Helium Girl) found him floating upside down in the centre of the living area, dangling as if by one leg from some invisible string of force and rotating slowly.

"Ah, Doug," said Hydrogen Guy. "There you are."

*gurgle*

Helium Girl muttered something about attention hogs under her breath.

"What is this little creature?" asked Oxygen Girl. She peered at him curiously, and somewhat hesitantly. Deuterium Boy had explained to her that Earth generally lacked flying cars, but hadn't mentioned anything about small rubber skeletons.

"That's Doug," said Deuterium Boy. "He's the spirit of an alien Zen master and astrophysicist who speaks to us through a rubber skeleton."

"My former thesis adviser," said Hydrogen Guy. "Like almost everything around here, it's complicated. We'll explain the whole thing later... and if you're wondering, Doug's not an accurate model of the human skeletal structure."

*GURGLE*

"Well, I'm sorry, but you're not," said Hydrogen Guy. He crossed his arms and looked sternly at the levitating skeleton. "What do you expect from a novelty store, anyway?"

Doug suddenly twirled in place and flopped down into Oxygen Girl's hands. "O!" she exclaimed. Deuterium Boy thought it was the most perfectly round sound he'd ever heard.

"Doug, this is, er, the Third Minister's Daughter, from the planet Kamparthia," said Hydrogen Guy. "She's joining us as Oxygen Girl. You'll be seeing a lot of each other during your training," he said to Oxygen Girl.

She directed a radiant smile at the skeleton. "I hope you are well, Doug," she said, very formally, and waggled his arm.

She nearly dropped him when a sonorous voice seemed to emanate from him, speaking slowly and clearly. He uttered less than a dozen words, none of which were recognizably English.

"He does that," Deuterium Boy said. "You get used to it."

"It's been a long time since he used his 'Pronouncements Voice', though," said Hydrogen Guy thoughtfully. "I wonder what he said."

"He spoke Numict," said Oxygen Girl, now frowning. "It is a language we learn in school."

"You know it?" asked Hydrogen Guy. "What did he say?"

"All things begin and end in the dust of the stars. It is an old proverb, which I one time had to write out many times."

"Doug never just comes out and says what he means," said Deuterium Boy. "For some reason, he's got a rule against it."

"That's kind of how Zen masters work, isn't it?" said Chuck.

"'All things begin and end in the dust of stars,'" repeated Hydrogen Guy. "Hard to tell if that's the Zen master or the astrophysicist in him speaking."

*gurgle*

"I think I'll put him down now," said Oxygen Girl. She gently laid the skeleton on the nearby armchair, and backed away as gracefully as she could.

"Great idea," said Helium Girl, whose tolerance for skeleton that spoke in tongues was rather low. "Sweetie, do you want, like, anything to eat or drink or anything?"

"I'll have a heavy water mocha latté, cupcake," said Deuterium Boy.

Helium Girl glared at him. "I was talking to her."

"Oh, sorry."

"Something to drink would be nice, I think," said Oxygen Girl. "What is a mokalattay?"

"DB, fire up the espresso machine," said Hydrogen Guy. "The training begins now."

"How do you like it?" Hydrogen Guy asked some time later.

"Very hot, but delicious! What again is it called?"

"Hot chocolate, or cocoa. Is it too hot?"

"It's fine, I drink it slowly... I think my body temperature is lower than yours."

Deuterium Boy nodded. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"So, I guess you're planet's pretty cold, huh?" said Helium Girl. "Tell us about Kamparthia."

"It's not so different from Earth, I think," said Oxygen Girl. "But there is less water, and it is a little colder. Today outside it feels like spring to me, but you say it is winter! Kamparthia is a little smaller than Earth, also... Some of our scientists say that in many millions of years, Kamparthia will be like your neighbour planet."

"Mars," said Chuck War.

"Yes, we flew past on the way here," said Oxygen Girl. "It looked like the red deserts in the south of my country... Although we are not as small as Mars, or as far from our sun. Partway between Earth and Mars, I think."

"Between the heat and the higher gravity, you'll tire quickly here," said Chuck War. "You'll have to be careful."

"You sound like my brother now."

"Hey, I have to make sure these yahoos take care of you. Manuk didn't look like a guy I want angry with me."

Oxygen Girl rolled her eyes, making Helium Girl giggle. "What are the people like?"

"Most of them are nice," said Oxygen Girl. "But some are cruel, and there are many who are just idiots."

"Ah, exactly like Earth," said Deuterium Boy.

"But, like, is everyone on Kamparthia blue?" said Helium Girl. "And do all the guys have tusks?" She didn't notice Chuck wince.

"Of course, all men have tusks!" said Oxygen Girl, grinning. "That is how you know they are grown men, and not boys! ... I am sorry, my friends."

"It's okay," said Deuterium Boy. "We can't help being tuskless."

"So on Kamparthia, we'd be like eunuchs?" said Hydrogen Guy.

Oxygen Girl laughed. "I'm sure Earth women find you very nice, Hydrogen Guy."

"You need to meet more Earth women," said Deuterium Boy. The others laughed, including Hydrogen Guy.

"We do have different colours of people too," said Oxygen Girl. "Like you, I noticed when driving that you are all different shades of brown and pink. Some people on Kamparthia are green, and some are purple, and there are tribes in the north who are almost as pale as you and Hydrogen Guy, Helium Girl." She giggled. "But they are very weird. One of my good friends is from Ocodipeankho, and we tease her a lot."

"I wouldn't tease people on Earth about what colour they are," said Chuck. "It's a touchy subject."

"I understand," said Oxygen Girl. "I cannot wait for all the embarrassing and weird things I will say to people... I am sure that they will all know I am not from Earth the moment I speak, even should they not notice my colour."

Chuck War shrugged. "You're blue as a side effect of your powers. Isn't liquid oxygen about the same colour as you?"

"O! Yes, I think so. Will people accept this?"

"Sure. You'd be surprised what kind of strange things people accept. Any mistakes you make, they'll probably assume are some foreign custom or personal quirks. My job depends on that kind of thing a lot of the time."

"Besides, everyone expects superheroes to be weird," said Hydrogen Guy.

"And Hydrogen Guy depends on that a lot of the time," said Deuterium Boy.

"They are so mean to you," Oxygen Girl said to Hydrogen Guy. He shrugged.

"It's because of how awesome and hot and brilliant I am," he said.

"And modest," added Deuterium Boy.

"Obviously, that too."

"Don't worry, they're always like this," said Chuck.

"Like the Doug thing, you get used to it," said Helium Girl.

Oxygen Girl smiled. "But I do not know what else to tell you, because I do not know what you are like! We have cities like this one, and some people have personal cars... We do not have people like 'superheroes', however, except in dramas."

"Ah, so you'll be the first!" said Deuterium Boy.

"And that's why you're here," said Hydrogen Guy. "Presumably... what did Ned tell you? About Elementals and superheroes and so forth?"

"He said many things... What I am he described as an 'Oxygen Elemental'. He said there used to be many Elementals, for almost every element, but they were all destroyed millions of years ago. But they are coming back on your planet, and now on Kamparthia."

"That's the essentials," said Hydrogen Guy.

"Did he tell you the Elementals served some kind of ancient galactic republic or empire?" said Deuterium Boy.

"Yes. Is this true?"

"It looks like it," said Chuck War. "Apparently galactic archaeologists call it the August Galactic Empire, after some old carvings found on dead planets all around the core... The Augustans were humanoids, like Earthlings and Kamparthians. They were ruled by the 'Mages', who used the Elementals like a kind of police special forces."

"Chemical Jedi, if you will," interjected Hydrogen Guy.

"What is a 'jedi'?"

Helium Girl reached across Deuterium Boy and punched Hydrogen Guy in the shoulder. "You're just confusing her!"

"Sorry."

"Does Ned expect us to be loyal to him?" asked Oxygen Girl. "If we are Elementals and he says he is a Mage..."

"He's never ordered us to do anything," said Hydrogen Guy. "So far he's just dropped the occasional warning and messed around with us from time to time."

"If he expects obedient little servants," said Deuterium Boy, "he can forget it."

"Damn right!" added Helium Girl.

"I am glad you say that," said Oxygen Girl. "He was quite nice to me, but I do not think I should trust him. I am unsure what his real plans are for me, or for Kamparthia."

"You're a good egg, OG," said HG.

"I am an egg?"

"He says weird things like that all the time," said Helium Girl. "You just have to, like, roll with it."

"Hm!" Oxygen Girl nodded. "Eggs are good for rolling."

"How did you get your powers?" Deuterium Boy asked. "An accident of some kind?"

"It is hard to say," said Oxygen Girl. "Even when I was a young child, my sense of smell was greater than anyone I knew. I could always smell things they could not! When I became an adolescent, this sense increased even more, and I realised that I could even smell what things were made of... I could feel strange things about matter in my mind, things which I did not understand until I began to learn chemistry. It was then I knew I could somehow feel atomic structures, especially around one kind of atom. I came to understand that I had a strange, uncanny affinity for oxygen in all its forms and compounds."

"What you feel is the oxygen elemental field," said Hydrogen Guy. "As Elementals, we have organelles in our cells that sense and manipulate the metanuclear fields of specific elements."

"That does not sound like any nuclear physics I have ever learned," said Oxygen Girl dubiously.

"No, it isn't, is it?" said Deuterium Boy. "I still lose sleep over it."

"I'm still working on the math, DB, trust me," said Hydrogen Guy.

"So, like, you just kind of grew into your powers?" asked Helium Girl.

"Yes," said Oxygen Girl. "It was very strange, for all these things to happen to me, when they did not happen to any of my friends. For a while I thought the constant awareness of atomic vibrations would drive me mad... Then I got used to it, and learned not to speak about it to others. Except, I could talk to my brother, he who is called 'Manuk'. He is many years older than I, and has long been experienced in strange events."

"That's our specialty," said Chuck War. "Galactic Customs: the few, the proud, the weird."

"And then two weeks ago, my abilities became more active," Oxygen Girl continued. "I became angry one day, and crystals of frozen oxygen formed on my window. Our winters are cold, but not that cold. Then I found that I could increase the size of a flame by focusing on it, or make bubbles of pure oxygen in air or water."

"Things like that are exactly how we realised we could control hydrogen," said Hydrogen Guy. "You're not alone."

Oxygen Girl smiled softly. "There is one other, but it is embarrassing, a little... A few days ago I was at the university. I was alone in the hallway, when I saw come around the corner a professor who I wanted to avoid."

"I didn't know you were in Jeff's class," said Deuterium Boy. Hydrogen Guy shot him a look.

"I saw her coming," said Oxygen Girl, "and then suddenly..." She trailed off, her face growing a darker blue.

"You vanished?" guess Hydrogen Guy.

"Yes," she said. "I turned into a cloud of oxygen gas. Unfortunately, my clothes did not..."

"Ooh, awkward!" said Helium Girl.

"Yeah, that happened to us a couple times," said Deuterium Boy, smiling. "Learning to extend the field past your skin takes a little work."

"Remember that time in the Black Rose's hideout?" said Hydrogen Guy.

"On the Moon rocket caper? Oh yeah," said Deuterium Boy. "At least you managed to hold onto your pants, somehow."

"You kept your mask, though. So your secret identity was safe."

"Thank God I didn't have to see that," said Helium Girl. "So, how did you get out of it, Oxygen Girl?"

"My professor saw my clothes on the floor, I think she was very confused. But she left them there. I somehow managed to hold my form as the gas until the hall was empty... and then I got dressed very, very fast. It was the next day that Ned first appeared."

"So," said Deuterium Boy brightly, "do we get a demonstration?"

Helium Girl stared at him. "You pervert!"

"No, not that! I mean her other powers. Jeez!"

Oxygen Girl flushed dark blue again. "I have never tried for anyone but my brother before... I will try. What should I do?"

"Well, you said you've had some success with feeding oxidation reactions...," said Hydrogen Guy. He held out his hand and a small red flame appeared over his palm. "Try enlarging this hydrogen flare."

Oxygen Girl looked at the flame in amazement. "Where does it come from?"

"One of these," said Deuterium Boy. He produced a small disk the size of a large coin, seemingly out of nowhere. "It's an experimental hydrogen fuel pellet. We've been practicing palming and hiding them. You never know when small source of pure hydrogen or deuterium will come in handy."

"Hurry, OG," said Hydrogen Guy. "I'm deliberately retarding the reaction, but it still won't last that long. Also, it's hot."

"Okay!" She stared earnestly at the little flame. A few seconds ticked by.

"You can do it, OG!" said Helium Girl.

"Something's happening...," said Hydrogen Guy. "Keep trying! There's still a few seconds left..."

WHUF!

The flame exploded into a fire-ball the size of Hydrogen Guy's head then vanished, leaving behind a cloud of steam. Hydrogen Guy jerked his hand back, dropping the white hot expended fuel pellet into his tea.

"OW!"

"O!" said Oxygen Girl. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." Hydrogen Guy evaporated the thin layer of moisture that had settled on his face and shirt. "This is why I wear a flame-proof costume... You're pretty powerful. We can help with your control... along with Doug, of course."

*gurgle*

"You up for it, OG?" asked Deuterium Boy.

M'Yescamai Izuuiubahinasakutan Kiumirusayamihimigal felt like the flare had burst to life again somewhere inside her. Even if they are aliens, she thought, they understand. She set her face into a determined expression.

"Yes, Deuterium Boy," she said. "I will do my best!"

Finding himself face to face with the business end of one of his own ffinch-ffirnian semi-automatic nail guns, Corey Scrauble was now having second thoughts as to whether opening the door to the as-yet-unseen Mr. C and his hirsute muscle-man was a good idea after all.

"Uh...," said Corey.

"You need to keep better track of your weapons, Mr. Scrauble," said Mr. C. He lowered the gun. "How can they take care of you if you don't take care of them?"

Corey relaxed for only a fraction of a second once the gun was out of his face. Then he was able to see the individual holding it, and immediately resumed freaking out.

Mr. C walked past him into the shabby hotel room, where the giant, near-naked muscle-man in a fuzzy bear hat stood by the window.

"I found these in the alley after your fight with Hydrogen Guy," said Mr. C, holding up the nail gun and its mate. He placed them gently on top of the dresser. "Before the cops arrived. That's not a good place to leave them, you know? Close the door, Mr. Scrauble."

Corey did so.

"And you know what's just as bad, Corey? You don't mind that I call Corey?" continued Mr. C. He took Corey's gaping stare for agreement. "When I took them apart, the mechanisms were all gummed up with dirt and gunk." He narrowed his eyes with disapproval. "You need to strip and clean your guns every few days, or they'll jam. That would be pretty bad in a situation like the other night."

"You're... you're a d-dog!" Corey finally gasped.

Mr. C looked at him in amusement. "Only from the neck up," he said, spreading his hands. He was dressed in a stylish black suit and white shirt, no tie. He did, in fact, look very much like many other well-to-do gangsters, except that for his canine head. "I don't have a tail or anything. I walk on two feet, like you."

Corey just stared at him.

"Don't worry, Corey, I won't bite," said Mr. C. "I would have warned you, but you don't have a phone, so I couldn't call ahead... Anyway, we should introduce ourselves, eh? My name is Georges Chouinard - you can call me Georges – and this is my right hand man, Bear."

Bear grunted.

"He does not say too much," said Georges, shrugging.

"Are you guys... human?" asked Corey.

Georges growled. "Yes, I'm human, goddamn you!" he snapped. "You think just because I look like this, I'm a monster or an alien or something like that? You think that about guys who're deformed, or in a wheelchair or something too?"

"Uh, well, I, no, uh, sorry man, but - "

"Corey, in this business, you gotta get used to guys like me, who don't look so normal! There's bigger freaks than me around. A lot of them work for the cops."

Bear looked at Georges. "Hurt'im?" he rumbled.

"It's okay," said Georges. To Corey, he said, "Bear, he gets protective of me and my feelings. We helped each other out a lot back in the Facility."

"Sorry, man," said Corey.

"Don't worry about it. Happens a lot."

"So... you guys were in the Facility? I thought that place was impossible to get out of."

"You make friends, and sometimes you can get 'early parole'," said Georges. He shrugged. "Just like you can get things back that get taken away from you."

He looked around the room at the bits and pieces of Corey's Carpenter Ant exoskeleton. "So, like I said before, you've been having some bad luck lately, eh? Your suit's busted and the guy at the garage won't fix it."

"He wanted five grand to do it. I ain't got that kind of money," said Corey. "Hydrogen Guy and his buddies screwed me over pretty bad the other night."

"You had a good thing going until then, eh? You had your day job, and then a little extra on the side at night as the Carpenter Ant..."

"Yeah. Thanks again for bringing me the suit back."

"You know, it was Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy who put me in the Facility," said Georges. "Somebody needs to do something about them, I think. Something fatal."

"Yeah. They deserve it."

"I think the three of us are on the same wavelength, Corey," said Georges. "I came today because I want to offer you a partnership."

"Really? A partnership?"

"Uh huh. You know what a chimera is?"

"Some kind of Dungeons and Dragons thing, isn't it?"

"It's a monster in Greek mythology... It had three heads from three different animals. Me and a couple of other guys, we had an organization called Chimera Incorporated. We made a lot of money until Hydrogen Guy and the cops broke it up. Now my old partners are kkk!" He drew his finger across his throat. "But me, I'm putting Chimera together again with a new sponsor. But a chimera needs three heads. We have a dog and a bear... how about an ant, eh?"

"What d'you want me to do?"

"You do what you're good at. What you want to do. I'm the brains, most of the time, you and Bear will be the muscle. I know people who can fix your suit, better than that grease-monkey friend of yours. They're the guys who got it back from Galactic Customs."

Corey was starting to get excited. This was a huge chance – a chance to solve his suit problem, and a chance at the Big Leagues that Vince had wanted... And Corey was coming to realise that without a brainy guy like Vince behind him, he didn't do very well on his own. Georges seemed like the kind of brainy guy he needed, plus he seemed to have the resources to back up his plans.

Corey made up his mind.

"You got a deal," he said. "On one condition – we get those Hydrogen clowns!" He offered his hand.

Georges took it. "Don't worry. That's part of the plan." He pulled his lips back in a threatening canine grin.

An enormous hand enveloped Georges' and Corey's. Corey looked up at Bear, who smiled down at him, grimly.

"Welcome to the club, kid," said Bear.