jchinds

He requested THAT SONG?

Oh, doom shall stalk him for the short number of days he has left...

or at least until CapeCon, whereupon he shall be forced to sing it in the manner known as Karaoke?

That was awesome.

Pfft. These guys are no "Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Midnight Directive," that's for sure.

I'll miss the place. It's where Heph and the Cobalt Claymore first met so many of the people who became important in their lives. It's also where Heph first realized that Dr. Vahzilok kidnaps more hikers than any other type of outdoor enthusiast.

-- a true enough story, only the names of the characters who aren't Hephaestus 1 have been changed to protect the innocent

So, a police cyborg, a martial artist and a katana-wielding guitarist walk into a Council-infested base. Hephaestus 1 had just gotten promoted from fighting exploding zombie backpackers and other horrors of Dr. Vahzlok's undead army and right into defeating a horde of fascists from outer space. Thankfully this time they were just using robots: a crowd of hastily-repainted Mek Men and Warcry stood at the intersection between two tunnels. He walked up nonchalantly to his two teammates, Ms. F and Izzy. He'd only been in Paragon City since Christmas of 2004, but now a few months later he'd been tasked to fight some of the more persistent enemies of the peace.

"What have we got?" Hephaestus 1 asked.

"Well, Heph," Ms. F said, "There's an excessive amount of robots blocking our way to get to Archon Vermetti."

"Verducci," Izzy said.

"Gesundheit!" Hephaestus 1 cheerfully replied to Izzy. Izzy just gave Heph a "you did not just say that" stare.

"What?" the big blue cyborg asked.

Ms. F shook her head. "Anyway, there looks to be about 20 of them in there. The odds aren't in our favor."

"I can sneak past them, but then I won't have any backup," Izzy said. "Besides, this katana isn't doing me a lot of good against robots."

Hephaestus 1 scratched the side of his metallic head. "Got it. I'll go negotiate. They're machines made by science. Science uses logic. Logic is used to form arguments. Arguments should work, then, against these machines. So I'll reason with them. Since I look like a robot, I should be able to at least get a neutral reaction from them. To show my goodwill I'll even speak to them in their native tongue, binary!"

"You can do that?" Ms. F asked incredulously.

"The people who built my cybernetic body put a bunch of useful software in with the operating system, a converter is one of them," Hephaestus 1 said. "Back in a sec."

Ms. F and Izzy shrugged and hunkered down, hoping for the best. Hephaestus 1 strolled to the awaiting horde of laser-armed robots.

"Greetings, my mechanical friends!" Hephaestus 1 said with a smile in his voice. "0100110101101001011011100110010000100000011011000 11001010111010001110100011010010110111001100111001 00000011101010111001100100000011101000110100001110 0100110111101110101011001110110100000111111"

The robots stared and the whine of lasers being charged up could be heard.

Moments later, gunfire and explosions could be heard as a now-singed Hephaestus 1 ran back to his teammates.

"Run!" he shouted. "It didn't work! The robots are chasing me!"

Ms. F and Izzy scrambled after their big blue partner. "I thought you could reason with them," Izzy said.

"It turns out they didn't like my accent!" Hephaestus 1 said as the team retreated to a more defensible position. "Who knew that creatures of pure, cold logic could be set off by an accent?"

"Accent?" Ms. F said as she turned a corner.

"They're robotic bigots! They said my cyborg accent was insulting!" Heph said.

The trio continued running, lasers flying in their general direction.

((Season 4, Episode 3, Part 2))

The Mysterious Doctor Nambu and the two lab technicians sat in front of a monitor, watching real-time footage of the horde of Nemesis-built nanites rapidly trying to capture and disassemble a batch of nanites that Doctor Nambu had programmed himself. As each nanite was broken up, it injected a protein-chain code into the nanite, mutating it from the inside out. The mutated nanite would then search out other nanites for partial disassembly and reprogramming. Soon enough, the nanites were mutating their own kind into tiny machines no longer capable of converting Hephaestus 1's brain chemistry. Their only program now was to exit the cyborg's biopod through the filtration chamber like normal.

"I think we've solved the problem, gentlemen," the Mysterious Doctor Nambu said confidently. "Now to unleash a second batch of trapper nanites into his biogel and we should be set. I never thought I'd have to build a machine like that. Hopefully Norton or McAfee don't to copyright anti-brainwashing software suites any time soon."

The older technician shook his head. "I've seen everything now. How soon before we can rebuild this guy's body? His cybershell is looking kind of dusty."

"Once I can re-establish some kind of contact with Michael, he'll be ready to do his part in the rebuilding process. That will depend on how much of his biopod's operating system remains unaffected by Nemesis' attack," Doctor Nambu said with a shrug. "I may have to re-code this on the fly so I can add in new countermeasures."

"That sounds like a pain," the younger technician said.

"It is. I fear I will have to impose a little further upon both of you to help me," the mad engineer said.

"It's no imposition at all," the older technician said.

"Let's get to work, then."

In Paragon City, Agent Munin and the Paperwork Ninja sat at their desks, trying to get some of their latest challenges resolved.

"That's the sixth sponsor we've lost. All we have is an auto company and a local gun shop. The beer companies won't come back and the networks are refusing even their basic sponsorship ad packages," Munin said.

"I know," the Paperwork Ninja said. "We haven't even been able to get the local minor league teams to bite, either. I guess this is it, then. The show's going to fold."

"Maybe. Have a little faith, okay?" Munin asked. "Heph will think of something once he gets back."

((Season 4, Episode 3, Part 1))

The show started with a view of St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto. Two medical technicians watched the readouts of Hephaestus 1's biopod. They still flickered, teasing at the idea that the big blue cyborg's remaining biological parts were still alive and intact. The older technician stretched in his office chair, then looked though his lab coat's chest pocket for a pen.

"Got another blip, Barry," the older tech said. "Note it on the log for me, will you?"

"Gotcha," the younger tech said as he wrote on the log. "Same vitals as last time?"

"Almost. I noticed something, though. The amount of burned-out nanites in our filtration chamber in increasing."

"Hmm. Means more of them are dying off. This is a good thing," the younger tech said.

"Oh yes, that's a very good thing," a voice familiar to "Serv'd!" fans said.

The two technicians turned around in awe. "The Mysterious Doctor Nambu! He's here!" they said in a disturbing unison.

The Mysterious Doctor Nambu had indeed arrived. "I apologize for not getting here sooner, but I was accosted at the border because I was carrying medical equipment on my battle armor. Odd that the armor itself wasn't questioned. Anyway, what do you have so far?"

The younger technician handed Heph's chart to Doctor Nambu. "For the longest time we weren't getting any burned-out nanites in the filtration chamber when we'd do a full flush and fill of his biogel," the tech said, referring to the bright chartreuse medium that transferred oxygen and nutrients to Heph's remaining biological parts. "Now we're getting more and more fragments of nanites and even full nanites that have burned out."

Doctor Nambu looked through the charts. "How recent are these electron microscope photos?"

"They're a day old."

"Can we draw off another sample of biogel from the filtration chamber? I'd like to see today's catch," the mad engineer said.

"At once, Doctor," the younger tech said.

Doctor Nambu's eyebrow raised over his glasses. The older tech gasped.

"I mean, at once, Mysterious Doctor Nambu!" the tech said, correcting himself.

"That's better," Doctor Nambu said with a subtle smile.

The older technician drew off a tiny drop of biogel and placed it into a laser microtome for sectioning, then placed each section into a chemical bath for final fixation for scanning. In a few minutes of work, the first sections pictures came through. Suspended in the biogel were nanite parts, what looked to be bits of broken protein chains, and molecule chains of the biogel medium.

"Hmm," Doctor Nambu said as the samples presented a better picture for him. "Can you isolate those protein fragments for me?"

"Immediately, Mysterious Doctor Nambu," the older tech said. "What's so important about them?"

"The nanites are either filled with arginine or phenylalanine, and they seem to be excreting isoleucine and leucine in their place."

"You can tell that by looking at them?" the older tech asked.

"People don't call me a genius because of my skills at ballroom dancing," Doctor Nambu said. "If I had to guess, these nanites are trying to cause Michael's hypthalamus to generate vasopressin and convert that into oxytocin. Basically they're forcing his brain into rapid aggressive states, then try to calm it into by saturating it with the resulting oxytocin. So he's shifting rapidly from anger to affection as the nanites convert the hormones to a new type."

"Wait. They're doing what?" the older tech sputtered. "But the difficulty required to do that is... well..."

"It's fully within the capabilities of Nemesis," Doctor Nambu said. "Unfortunately for Nemesis, his workers tire and break down eventually. Entropy is a harsh taskmaster."

"It sounds like Nemesis is trying to break this guy's spirit by rapid mood swings," the older tech said.

"More or less, yes. The oxytocin will make him more docile and willing to serve."

"Damn. So if this guy comes out of this alive, then what?" the younger tech asked.

"He's either going to want to kill everything around him, or he's going to want to cuddle in the way that only a full-body conversion cyborg can or somewhere in between," Doctor Nambu said. "It all depends on how much of each hormone is left in his system when the nanites are finally burned out."

The two technicians looked at each in varying amounts of horror, then back to Doctor Nambu.

"I'll make sure to call in sick that day," the younger tech said.

Doctor Nambu pulled out a computer slightly larger than a regular smartphone and began scribbling notes on it. "While you're planning your sick days, help me figure out a solution to the nanites' programming."

"Uhm, we're really not programming specialists," the older tech said.

Doctor Nambu smiled. "Then you're going to learn, my friends. Yes, you're going to learn."

The scene faded to commercial.

((I haven't forgotten "Serv'd!" but there's real life getting in the way in addition to fleshing out the next part of the story.))

Found On YouTube, dated shortly before the previous episode of "Serv'd!":

Heph, Agent Munin and the Paperwork Ninja stood in line at New Baumton International Airport along with all the other passengers en route to Toronto.

"I thought I was done with 'hurry up and wait' once I retired from the police department," Heph said. "Hey, Papes, can't you do something about this?"

The Paperwork Ninja shook his head. "Nope. The Transportation Security Administration has so much dense legal text that it's tough even for our best readers to find loopholes at the moment."

"Well that just sucks," Heph said.

"At least you don't have to carry your shoes by hand like everyone else," Munin said. "There's more funk at nose level right now than when Uncle Cozmic challenged Bootsy Collins to a thumb-wrestling match."

"Well, the soles of my feet aren't due for a re-tread for another fifteen thousand miles, so I'm good," Heph said as the team got closer to the screening area. After a few more minutes, the team arrived at the metal detector and scanner system.

The screener motioned to Heph. "Sir, please step through the detector gate."

"You're joking, right?" Heph asked.

"Sir, step through the gate," the screener demanded.

"Ma'am, if you haven't noticed most of my body is built over a metal skeletal structure. And much of that is metal. Your detector is not going to work properly," Heph said.

"Sir, step through the scanner now," the screener said.

"Or what? You'll call your manager?" Heph asked. "The detector is going to ring all the time no matter what."

"Step through the scanner or I'll be forced to call our security team, sir."

"How long does it take you to get your hair done, ma'am?" Heph asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Munin asked.

"I'm going to prove something," Heph said.

"It takes about 5 hours to get these braids did," the screener said.

"And you get metal beads at the end, right?" Heph asked.

"Yes. So what?"

"So you would set this off every time unless you undid your hair."

"Well, I'd tell the screener it's the beads in my hair."

"And what would he do?"

"He'd use the wand to prove it."

"But you already told him they were metal."

"Sir, are you going to step through the gate or not?"

"No, because I'm telling you I'm made of metal. Or does that not register in your what-passes-for-a-high-school-diploma-filled mind?"

"I graduated at the top of my class!"

"Sure you did," Heph said. "Anyway, I'm made of metal. The gate is going to get a big false alarm if I go through. So I'm not going through."

The screener motioned to an apparent supervisor. "This fool says he's made of metal and he won't go through the gate."

The supervisor looked up and down at Heph. "He is made of metal, Stephanie. It's obvious. He'd probably also damage the sensor system, too."

The screener folded her arms. "Well can we wand him?"

Heph looked at the supervisor and shrugged. "Your call, man, but I can assure you that I'm more metal than Dethklök." Heph then threw the horns.

The supervisor nodded. "Okay, how about going through the quantum scanner over there?"

"What, the nude-cam?" Heph asked. "Modesty doesn't permit me to do that. Sorry. I refuse."

"Oh for ****'s sake," the supervisor said. "Stop being difficult."

"Ooooooh," Papes and Munin said in unison. "You said a bad woooooord."

Heph waved his two teammates off from further commentary. "I'm a full-body conversion cyborg. I'm a retired cop who's seen a lifetime of this silliness, and believe me it's done nothing to make traveling more fun. So I'm refusing your metal detector on account of my predominantly-metal body and I'm refusing the quantum scanner because nobody gets to see my mighty blue cyberwang except for my doctor, my mechanic, and my contractually-obligated significant other who couldn't be with us today because she's at another better-living-through-toast-plasma-fusion seminar. So I'm not being difficult, I'm being honest. None of this is making me or anyone else here safer."

"I'll have to manually search you, sir," the supervisor said. "I'll have to pat you down for weapons."

"Fine," Heph said. "Just hang on a minute, okay?"

Heph pulled out his smartphone and clicked an application. The screen was immediately changed to that of a movie of a roaring fire in a fireplace. Over its tinny speaker, a romantic slow jam began to play. Heph set the phone down and put his hands on the inspection table, palms up.

"Okay, but be gentle. I am... shy."

The sound of a palm meeting a face resonated through the boarding area as the supervisor realized what he'd gotten himself into.

"Man, I should have worn clean boxers, too," Heph said. "Hey, you're buying me dinner after this, right? It's only fair."

"Just... just go on," the supervisor said.

"Oh no," Heph said. "My taxes pay for this, and by God I'm getting my taxpayer-supported bad touch! Now come on, Sparky, come get your grope on!" the big blue cyborg said.

"I... I don't want to, now," the supervisor said. "That's just gross."

"T-t-t-t-t-touch meeee," Heph sang, "I want to feel diiiiiirty!"

"No!" the supervisor said. "Just get on the plane! For the love of God, get on the plane!"

"I bet you don't want to shake hands with Little Heph because I'm a cyborg. Is that it?" Heph asked.

"Security!" the supervisor shouted into his radio. "Come escort this big blue lummox at Gate 17 to his plane. And hurry!"

"Racist," Heph muttered.

The security team escorted Heph to the plane to the applause of the crowd.

"Miss, please step through the gate," the screener said.

"But I'm with him," Munin said as she pointed to Heph.

"I should've taken the job at Up-N-Away Burger," the screener said.

Utopi-Os. Now there's a product that's going nowhere.

((Episode 4, Part 4))

Hephaestus 1, Agent Munin and the Paperwork Ninja sat with former hockey star (and due to the marriage of Papes' father and Ron's daughter, the Paperwork Ninja's step-grandfather) Ron Waifu, enjoying the opening night hockey game between Toronto and Montreal. Heph's plaid jacket was causing fans to look away. Some even yelped in surprise if they weren't expecting it.

"Man," Heph said in between beers, "this is pretty darn good hockey. I wish I'd paid more attention to it as a kid like my Dad wanted."

"A father's wisdom is often unheeded in youth and often missed in middle-age," Ron said. "Which team did your father cheer for?"

"Chicago," Heph said.

Ron finished his beer. "Ah, a fine team, even in my day."

"Well, I spent more time playing baseball and football. Hockey wasn't a Chicago sport."

Munin and the Paperwork Ninja looked at each other, expecting a giant ham-sized fist to come swinging at their big blue boss.

"What?" Ron sputtered. "That is a silly statement which makes me laugh with sarcasm! Ha ha!"

"No, if the owner had thought of doing things like televising the games locally, opening up his wallet every so often to pay his players and entice new players to come in, and that, maybe they wouldn't have had such a long drought," Heph said.

"Clearly you see the wisdom of spending money to make money," the mountain of man said as he poured another cup of beer from the skyboxes' kegerator.

The clock wound down and the chants of "Grabbo! Grabbo!" wafted up to the skybox. Heph tensed up and charged his lasers.

"Guys, Grabbo's here. Who brought the summons?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, boss," Munin said, "but that's the chant for some guy named Grabovski."

"So it's not Grabbo the Sexual Harassment Robot from Paragon City?" Heph asked.

"Nope. Just a fourth-liner is all," the Paperwork Ninja said from behind his beer. "I thought you might do that, though, so I made sure you had a large distance between us and the rink so we'd have time to explain that to you."

"Oh. Well, then, I guess you did a good job at finding seats for us, Papes," Heph said as he put his lasers' safeties back on.

The horn sounded, ending the second period of the game and the music played as the Zambonis went about their business of re-surfacing the ice. Halfway through their slow, predictable pattern, the re-surfacing machines stopped, faced each other and began flashing their lights.

"What's this?" Heph asked. "Zamboni jousting?"

"I have never seen such odd behavior by the ice crews of Toronto. This is most unnerving," Ron Waifu said.

In seconds the two ice re-surfacing machines had transformed into two brass and steel mechanical men in a pattern familiar to most heroes of Paragon City, but slightly different in details. Raising their mechanical hands, the two huge robots created a transfer point for a portal to appear. Out of the swirling portal stepped a familiar set of platform boots, complete with robotic fish swimming in Lexan-encased pools of fine machine oil, an outrageously-cut metal overcoat of anodized purple with metal trim anodized to look like leopard spots, an equally-outrageous broad-brimmed hat with a ridiculously large metal feather in its band, and a familiar gearwork staff topped off by a rotating dollar sign. Jaegers with fat-rimmed tires rolled out of the portal and a group of purple-and-gold colored uniforms of neo-Napoleonic design followed the wildly-dressed robot through the portal, their guns gleaming and at the ready.

"Attention people of Toronto," the robot said. "I, Pimp Nemesis, have come to accept the surrender of your beloved between-periods commentator whom you call 'Coach.' His outrageous styles impress me and I wish to use his brain to design my next suits of clothes. Surrender this Coach to me and I will allow your game to go on unimpeded. Resist, and... well, we have guns. You don't. Do the math."

There was a sound of two palms hitting two faces as Agent Munin and the Paperwork Ninja registered their disbelief. Heph just shook his head.

"We will never surrender him, for it is unseemly to lose a beloved commentator in such a dishonorable manner!" Ron said as he brought his fist down on a counter top, smashing it.

Pimp Nemesis continued as the crowd jeered and threw their half-empty beer cups at him.

"Well, I see I must use another method. Fortunately for you, I have replaced two other regular hockey commentators with my fine, fine robotic doubles. They'll be able to locate his wildly-dressed self in moments and bring him here. I just wanted a minimum of trouble. We can all be friends here, if you know your place."

The boos and jeers continued from the stands as there was a knock at the door.

"I got it," Heph said as he opened the door. "Oh, hey, Ron, Pierre. The Coach isn't here. He left his jacket behind, too."

The Coach's right-hand man and his bald-headed compatriot appeared at the door and grabbed Heph in a double bear hug and fired off rocket boosters from their backs and legs.

"He-is-wildly-dressed," Ron said.

"He is turtle-y enough for us," Pierre said. "Turtle! Turtle! Turtle!"

"FOR-LORD-NEMESIS," the two robotic doubles shouted as they took Heph through the front of the skybox and to the rink in front of their creator.

Munin, the camera crew, and the Paperwork Ninja ran down the stands from the skybox, while Ron Waifu grabbed a hockey stick from the display in the skybox.

"At last, my arm is complete!" Ron Waifu said, his body seeming to fill with the Power of the Goon.

Pimp Nemesis was likely not amused, but didn't show it. "Well, well, well! Hephaestus 1, as I function and combust! How is it that you show up in some of the finest threads in the middle of a hockey match?"

"It was a gift," Heph said. "The tie, shirt and trousers, though, were my idea."

"They work. But you are not The Coach," Pimp Nemesis said as he turned to the two robot doubles. "Can either of you explain how you couldn't tell an eight-foot-tall cyborg from an old man with a goatee?"

"Turtle?" Pierre said.

Ron shrugged.

Pimp Nemesis blasted the two robotic failures from existence.

"Easy there, Nems," Heph said. "Look, you can't have The Coach, regardless of his sartorial splendor. It's just not done."

"Either way, I shall have what I want," Pimp Nemesis said. "Still, how is it that you're here?"

"I'm a guest of The Coach and of the CBC since my show is being released here on Blu-Ray. I'm also supposed to give a lecture tomorrow night in Montreal," Heph said.

Pimp Nemesis shook his head. "No, no, my cyborg brother, you're here to mess with me. Even as we speak, Task Force JFL from Montreal is spiriting away my target to a safe place. You know how that makes me feel, Hephaestus 1?"

"Like a chump?" Heph said. "I don't know what you're talking about, Nems. I'm here to learn about hockey by watching two of the most storied teams in the game play against each other."

"So you're not a long-time hockey fan?" Pimp Nemesis asked.

"You have to start somewhere. I became a fan after watching the high school championships back home in Chicago," Heph explained.

"He's not Canadian?" a fan asked.

"No, I'm American," Heph said. "Couldn't you tell?"

"You're wearing blue white and red like a Montreal fan," the fan said.

"Typical American doesn't know which colors to wear!" another drunken fan snorted.

"Yeah, a typical American like your team's general manager," Heph said.

The Montreal fans cheered as they saw their rival fans disheartened by the revelation.

"And I'm as American as your team's captain," Heph said to a fan wearing a red sweater with a familiar logo made of a C and a smaller H.

There was a wailing and gnashing of teeth as this truth set in among the Montreal fans.

"What? I utter a couple simple statements of fact and you guys are freaking out? They're both pretty decent at what they do, so be happy!" Heph said to the crowd.

Pimp Nemesis motioned to his troops. "Kill this fool."

The Nemesis troops fired everything they had at Heph while his back was turned. As most of his defensive systems were off, his cybershell was torn apart by the massed firepower. He collapsed to one knee on the ice and tried to bring up his defensive systems to shrug off the rest of the attack. His body shuddered as emergency repair nanites worked to rebuild vital systems and repair holes in his armor.

"Not... not cool, Nems," Heph said as he fired his head-mounted lasers at the Purple Prince of Prussian Prurience. The beams bored through the robotic form's jacket and managed to melt through his armor quickly. Pimp Nemesis stepped back.

"Hephaestus 1, my cyborg brother, I may be a humble man of means and provider of things that people want, but you must remember one thing."

The purple and gold metal form charged the big blue cyborg and jabbed his staff down through Heph's armored shoulder and fired a blast of yellow and silver energy directly into his main systems.

Heph screamed in agony like none had ever heard from the man before.

"You must remember, my brother, that I am still Lord Nemesis and I am not to be trifled with. Nor am I one who takes deception with a sense of good humor."

Heph's ruined body doubled over as he fought something that was attacking his internal systems.

"Those nanites will continue to eat through your biopod's defenses unless you swear your allegiance to me. You're a fool, but you're a useful fool. You amuse me, Hephaestus 1. I can use that in my army."

"Like Hell I will," Heph said through the pain.

"Then you will die in agony. You can stop that, though, Hephaestus 1. Just say 'All Hail Lord Nemesis' and let them take control. It's that easy."

"Not happening," Heph said.

"Suit yourself. For now, I'll retire to my club to find the location of The Coach," Pimp Nemesis said.
Two heroes and one old hockey goon tore through the Nemesis troops.

"Heph!" Agent Munin shouted.

"You take care of Heph, Ron and I will trash these guys in our hometowns' respective ways!" the Paperwork Ninja shouted.

"I am truly alive in this moment of glory!" Ron Waifu said as he cut through one of the portal-controlling robots with a mighty slash of his hockey stick.

Pimp Nemesis turned around to see his portal go out of control.

"The location beacon! That's not in the plan," the purple and gold robot said as the portal damage caused a recall teleportation of both him and his troops. The threat disappeared in a flash, leaving one Zamboni wrecked and the other barely working.

The team went over to Heph's wrecked cybershell. Munin drew out a thin fiber-optic wire from her glasses and plugged it into an undamaged diagnostics jack.

"Come on, boss, come on! Say something!" the girl said. Something on her glasses' readout startled her and she tore them from her eyes. "Frak! They tried a subliminal suggestion on me."

The Paperwork Ninja knelt down beside his teammate. "Did you see anything?"

"Just intermittent life signs. I can't tell if he's still alive in there or not."

"Right. Let's get him to safety just in case," the ninja said as he worked the emergency release latch to expose the cybershell's biopod. Munin and the Paperwork Ninja began the process of disconnecting the biopod from its connections to the outer shell.

"They say he can live for a few months disconnected..." Munin said.

"He's alive, Em, have a little faith," the Paperwork Ninja offered in reply. "Just have faith. It's all we've got to go on right now."

A team of Toronto police anti-cyborg specialists arrived to assist with Heph's removal and disassembly.

"Who's his doctor?" the officer in charge of the scene said.

"The Mysterious Doctor Nambu, head of Design Bureau 009," Munin said. "We'll get in contact with him. Where are you taking my boss?"

"St.Michael's. They've got a good research unit there dealing with cybernetic interfaces."

"I'll let him know."

"Has he got insurance?"

"Yes. And a private doctor. Don't worry," Munin said. "Best care anywhere, right?"

The show faded to credits as Heph's cybershell was lifted onto the back of a truck by a small crane.

((Episode 2, Part 3!))

The scene faded back in from commercials to a montage of Hephaestus 1 and Agent Munin going to a series of bookstores and music stores to promote the release of “Serv'd!” on Blu-Ray. The montage ended at a local music store where the two heroes were sitting in front of a shorter than normal line.

“I don't get it,” Heph said. “This public relations trip was supposed to help with viewership, but it's like we came in on a day where everyone has something else they need to do.”

“It's a Thursday, Mick,” the Paperwork Ninja said as he made his way behind the table. “And it's also Opening Day here.”

“Opening Day?”

“For hockey, Mick.”

“Right! I knew that,” Heph nodded. “For some reason I forgot it momentarily.”

“It also explains the lack of people here. They're probably busy getting all their other stuff done so they can sit down and enjoy the games tonight.”

A woman a little younger than Heph stood in front of the table with her boxed set of DVDs. “We're not all hockey-obsessed up here, you know. Some of us have lives and some of us have other hobbies instead of watching hockey.”

“I know. It's okay to be a fan, though. I think a lot of people feel like you do about baseball back in the States. And like I tell them, you don't know what you're missing until you actually sit down to watch a game at your local venue. Even if it's not the majors, minor-league sports can provide a lot of entertainment value for very little money.”

“They're just so dumb, though!”

Heph shrugged. “I got the same answer from some of my old gaming group back in Chicago. I don't care what part of the geek hierarchy you're in, it's close-mindedness as a way to make yourself feel better. I'll just say you're missing out and leave it at that.”

“You would know about close-mindedness,” the woman snapped.

“Yeah, I would, and I missed out for a very long time on some great social events and missed out on meeting some great people because of that same attitude,” Heph said. “Being a cop will do that to you sometimes, too. You'll think 'Our system is good enough' when something that's better comes along. Now, to whom should I make this autograph?”

“Oh, to my daughter Arden. It's an end-of-semester gift when she comes back from college.”

“Where does she go?”

“Paragon City University.”

“Oh, really?” Munin asked.

“Yes, she's off doing whatever when she could be helping her family maintain order here in Toronto. It's what the people in Meta Hills do, you know.”

“I see,” the young archer replied. “Well, don't be too surprised if she outdoes you. Paragon City has some of the biggest challenges to heroes. Those who get past them often go on to save little things like the world.”

“Well, if she comes back with everything we taught her intact then it'll be a miracle,” the woman said as she picked up the boxed set and walked off.

Heph and Munin exchanged a glance.

“This explains a lot,” Heph said.

“Yeah, she's a bit more rude than Arden said,” Munin replied.

The next customer in line was a man who seemed to be as wide as he was tall, a giant brick wall of a man. His steely glare from the crows' feet wrinkles around his eyes still seemed to have the fire of youth despite the salt-and-pepper specks of gray and white throughout his thick black hair. He also had the Paperwork Ninja in a headlock and was proceeding to give him noogies in front of everyone.

“Ha! The son of my new son-in-law! I did not expect to see one such as you in such a public venue! Long has it been since we have seen each other!” the larger man said in his near-archaic pattern of speech.

“Hi, Ron,” the Paperwork Ninja said. “I hadn't expected to see you here, either.”

“Well, as a former defenseman for both the Boston Bruins and Toronto Maple Leafs, I try to take in opening-night games of both teams whenever possible. Such is the devotion to team and sport of Ron Waifu!”

“And you managed to catch our Paperwork Ninja off-guard,” Munin said. “That's impressive.”

“Well, when you reach a certain age, you've seen every kind of defensive play and every kind of evasive tactic. Such is the way of the world,” Ron said.

“So, you're the father-in-law to Papes' dad?” Heph asked.

“Yes, his father recently married my daughter whose name is Mai as required by custom. He also married her because if he didn't I'd knock his head off with a mighty punch for seducing my little girl. Even at my age I am still capable of punching people with a mighty fist or two! Ha ha!”

Munin leaned back in her chair. “Well, you look like you could punch out a grizzly bear.”

Ron Waifu laughed heartily. “Oh, child of the wider world! I have not done such things since I was but a lad of twelve years!”

“Ron,” the Paperwork Ninja said, “Could you possibly, you know, let me out of this headlock?”

“Indeed I shall!” Ron said, as the office shinobi fell to the floor with a loud thump. “For such is the generosity and mercy of Ron Waifu!”

“That's an interesting accent you have. You're not from Ontario, then?” Munin asked.

“No! I am from... the west. It is a land of stark beauty, where the mountains and valleys hold both isolation and death to the unwary, but life and joy to those willing to perceive it. It is that land which made my people the tough and independent community they are today!”

“So, Alberta, then?” Heph asked.

“You could say that,” Ron said. “Say, could you sign this boxed set for me? I have to get to a pre-game ceremony for the Leafs soon.”

“Sure thing,” Heph said as he grabbed a marker to sign it.

The scene faded out and into an external shot of the Air Canada Centre, then into a scene of the Paperwork Ninja and Agent Munin sitting at a small table in a dressing room sipping on some coffee.

“I like it even more now with the shirt and tie!” Heph said from off-screen.

“You look like Uncle Sam... if he was a cyborg version of a used-car salesman,” the paperwork Ninja said.

“Even blind people have to look away, it's so ugly,” Munin said.

“You guys don't know anything about style,” Heph said. "I'm ready to go." He walked into the camera. If one tried to adjust one's television settings, they would fail. Heph's red-white-and-blue plaid jacket was truly a technicolor sight to behold, especially since all of the buttons had been replaced with gold stars. Underneath the jacket he wore a royal blue shirt with silver stars all over it, and followed that up with a red and white striped tie festooned with gold stars. Thankfully he went with solid-colored blue poplin dress trousers, cuffed to keep the hems from getting caught in his cybernetic feet.

"My God, Em, he's full of stars," the Paperwork Ninja joked. Munin nearly spat her coffee out and started coughing.

"You... you jerk... that was hot coffee!" Munin sputtered as she tried not to laugh.

"Hey, I like it. It's very patriotic. At least our hosts thought of me enough to do that," Heph said. "Anyway, I have to head to the studio." With that, the big blue cyborg left the room, the recording team in tow. As he walked to the studio, he caught sight of the back of a red and green plaid jacket in a nearby dressing room. He poked his head into the room.

"Hey! Hey Coz! Are you here, too?" Heph shouted. "I'd recognize that jacket anywhere!"

A balding man with his white hair cut short and neat with a white vandyke and a high-collared white shirt walked into the camera's view.
"Hey! I don't know any 'Coz' and there's no one here by that name," the old man said. "I gotta admit, though, I respect your sartorial style there!"

Heph looked over to the old man. "Oh, sorry, that jacket looks like one that a friend of mine in the States wears on a regular basis. My name's Mick O'Flannagan. Most folks know me as Hephaestus 1. I'm a retired cop turned registered hero in the States, and I'm up here to do a PR run for my tv show. They scheduled me for an interview tonight in Studio G."

"Studio G? I must be interviewing you, then!" the old man said. "Well, I can say we'll be quite the pair on-screen, at least if I can find a tie." He looked off-camera. "Ron! Lend me one of your ties! I forgot the one I was going to wear!"

"Sorry, Coach!" the voice said from off-screen. "I only brought the one. It tested great in the focus groups."

"Where am I gonna find a tie that matches my jacket on such short notice?" the old man asked.

Heph looked into the camera, and his mechanical eyebrow raised. "You guys stay here. Uh, sir, I think I have just the tie for you. Hang on a second and I'll be right back."

"Sure thing, kid," the old man said. "See, Ron? Even this guy comes prepared with a second tie in case some other guy forgets his! That's the kind of game plan everyone needs!"

"Right, Coach," the voice said again from off-screen.

Heph walked back into the shot. "Found it! It's a little long for you, but we can hide the excess." He unrolled the tie and presented it to the old man.

"Raw silk?" the old man asked.

Heph nodded. "Yep. My favorite. Helps me fine-tune my sense of touch when it gets recalibrated."

"And it's got Daffy Duck on it! You're my kinda guy there, O'Flannagan!"

"Thanks! You can call me Heph, though. Everyone does."

"You call me Coach and I'll do that. Now, since you're my interview segment, let's get you and your crew up to the skyboxes for the game." The old man looked to someone off-camera again. "Ron! Tell Pierre to limber up and get my sedan chair ready! You guys'll have to carry me up those steps again. It's for the fans!"

"But my shoulder hurts from the practice run and Pierre's hiding near the timekeeper's booth again," the voice said from off-screen.

"Hey!" the old man shouted. "Don't whine in front of our guests! It's Un-Canadian! Now go find that bald little weasel and get that chair ready! Chop-chop, Ron!" He looked back to Heph.

"Good help is hard to find even in this economy," the old man said.

The cameras faded to commercials.

((Episode 2, Part 2!))

When the commercials ended, the show returned to a scene of Heph accepting a large, flat box from the local express delivery company. Heph looked over the box.

"Huh," Heph said. "This is from CBC in Toronto. I guess it's in regards to the quick PR appearance they requested. This is a good-sized media kit."

"Aren't most media kits usually sent on a DVD for printing out?" the courier asked.

"That's what I thought, but you never know," Heph said with a shrug. "Anyway, let me see what we've got here." Heph opened the box as the camera panned over to show that Agent Munin and the Paperwork Ninja had entered the office.

"Hey, Mick?" Munin asked, "Papes and I have a question on these travel voucher-- oh God my eyes Mick! Putitbackputitbackputitback!" she said, covering her eyes from the eldritch horror of what was in the box. Even the Paperwork Ninja shielded his eyes from the perilous vision.

"What? It fits and I like the pattern. Very Spirit of '76, you know?" Heph asked from off-camera.

"Yeah, 1976," the Paperwork Ninja said. "You're seriously not going to wear that, are you?"

Heph showed back up on-camera in his normal jacket, reading a letter. "Yep. Looks like I'm being requested to wear it to a meeting with one of CBC's most beloved commentators on the most important subjects of the day. Maybe I'll be on their version of the evening news?"

"As what, a test pattern?" Munin asked.

"Look, it's harmless, okay? It's probably just some good-natured ribbing is all. So, in the interest of being a good guest, I'm going along with it. Besides, we'll be in Toronto on Thursday and Montreal on Friday. It'll be a blip on the radar. We'll do a PR appearance for the DVDs at a local mall there, then a neighborhood appearance in Meta Hills since it's only proper to introduce yourselves to the local heroes if you're visiting another city. Then there's the little meeting at Air Canada Centre on Thursday night that requires wearing the jacket which I like and you don't. They've probably just got a nice studio setting there that will accomodate a guy my size is all."

The Paperwork Ninja stood there next to Munin, his face showing just the slightest hint of a smirk. Munin picked up on it.

"Something on your mind, Papes?"

"I'll tell you later, Em. Just be patient until then."

Heph walked into his private office with his new parcel under his arm, humming a happy tune. Agent Munin turned to the Paperwork Ninja as the door closed.

"Okay, seriously, Papes. What's going on? Hiding it is definitely not shiny, all right?"

The Paperwork Ninja leaned over and started whispering into the girl's ear. As the tale went further, Munin's eyebrows raised over her amber-colored sunglasses. Then her jaw dropped.

"You're kidding me!" Munin said as the Paperwork Ninja finished.

"It's a wild guess, but it fits, doesn't it?" the Paperwork Ninja said. "The visual horror in that box, the significance of the place where Mick's going, the timing of the whole thing. It just makes too much sense."

"But how can you be sure?"

"I, uh, have... relatives... there who can confirm stuff like this." the Paperwork Ninja said. "Just trust me on it," he said as he walked back to his cubicle humming a tune familiar to some viewers.

"There's got to be more to it than that," Munin said as she followed the file clerk back to his cubicle. "It's beginning to smell like a big set-up!"

The Paperwork Ninja shrugged. "It does, doesn't it? Let's have a little faith in the boss, though. He seems to think it's on the up-and-up."

"He has problems with scale, though. He treats world-shattering conspiracies like it's another day at the office."

"He's a superhero, Em. World-shattering conspiracies are just another day at the office," the Paperwork Ninja said in between sips of coffee.

"We'll find out soon enough, I guess," Munin said as the camera faded out to commercials.

((Episode 2! Part 1))

The cameras faded in from the opening credits as Hephaestus 1 and another Hephaestus-class cyborg sat at Heph's desk. The other cyborg was a two-tone deep blue and silver and was wearing civilian clothes, notably a hockey sweater with the last name "Fuhr" on the back.

"Look, Mick," the other cyborg said, "You're on your way to Montreal, so there's three things to remember: Francophones, Hockey, and Strippers."

"Gotcha, Lucky. And you're here to get me up to speed on hockey?"

"Man, I had to get you up to speed on National League baseball!" Lucky said with a grin in his voice.

"Right, right, all hail Albert Pujols," Heph said. "He's no Frank Thomas."

Lucky's antennae lowered a bit, much like how a cat's ears will flatten when angered. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and still help you with your first steps as a hockey fan. Now, did you go over the notes I sent you? Since you'll be in Montreal on Opening Day, you need to at least be able to pay your respects to the sport."

"Yeah. But you had so much in there about doing something physically impossible to Detroit that I kind of skimmed over the rest."

"You read the part about the quiz, right?" Lucky asked.

"Quiz?" Heph said in surprise.

Lucky nodded. "Question 1: What is Patrick Roy known for?"

Heph scratched his metal chin. "Uh... he's known for this castle not being his?"

There was a clanging noise as metal palm met metal face. "You did not just say that. You did NOT just say that!" Lucky regained his composure. "Okay, question two: This former player is now known in the United States for his chain of doughnut shops."

"Stan Mikita!" Heph said proudly.

Lucky just stared at Heph.

"Okay, TIm Horton," Heph said sheepishly. "Next!"

"Question three: Which town in Western Canada has produced the greatest number of players with the last name of Sutter?"

Heph shrugged. "Uh, that'd be the... uh, The Village Hidden in the Crease!"

Nearby, the Paperwork Ninja spewed coffee on his computer monitor and swore enough to create a steady stream of bleeping from the censors. Lucky looked over into the Paperwork Ninja's cubicle.

"Gotta problem, Papes?" Lucky asked.

"No! No problem! No NOPSEC violations or anything! No problems at all!" the Paperwork Ninja said, trying to clean off his monitor.

"Right, man," Lucky said as he turned back to Heph. "Okay, Question four: Which Hall of Fame goalie has the nickname 'Jake the Snake'?"

"Oh! I got this one! It's uh... Jake... uh... Jacob Iforgothisnamerman..." Heph said, trailing off.

"Cryin' on the inside here, Mick," Lucky said.

"Sorry," Heph said. "I just thought your notes wouldn't have so much vitriol directed towards Detroit."

"Question 5: Explain the 2005 Collective Bargaining Agreement in ten words or less," Lucky said.

"Hey now! I was told there would be no math," Heph said in annoyance.

Lucky nodded. "That's ten words exactly. Okay, you're one for five, Mick."

"I didn't get credit for TIm Horton?"

"No."

"You're harsh, Lucky."

"Hockey is harsh, Mick. It's unforgiving."

"Like the 2004 Red Sox?" Heph said with a snarky tone in his voice.

Lucky sat there at the desk in silence.

"Lucky? Come on, man... I was just joking around."

"I should have expected as much from a Cubs fan," Lucky said.

"Hey! That's just dirty pool, mister!" Heph shot back.

"It could be worse, Lucky," the Paperwork Ninja said. "He could have mentioned the 1985 Royals."

"Y'all askin' for it," Lucky said. "Just sayin'. Anyway, you've got a couple of days before Opening Day. Get to studying."

Heph leaned back in his reinforced chair. "You've got me studying hockey while I need to go over my presentation to that new military unit that's forming in Montreal, Task Force JFL. Just lovely."

"How did you get picked to teach a military unit?" Lucky asked.

"They got some video of my presentation to RCMP cadets about keeping a sense of humor when dealing with stressful situations. The next thing I know I've got a letter from the Ministry of Defence asking me to give the presentation to a group called 'Task Force JFL' based out of Montreal," Heph said. "I figured I should accept since it's the neighborly thing to do."

Lucky and the Paperwork Ninja looked at each other much in the way that two people show that they're both keeping the same secret from a third.

"I still don't understand why you're taking both me and Munin on this mission, Mick. I've got a wife and kids at home," the Paperwork Ninja said.

"I'll need you to navigate through any bureaucratic troubles we might have in Montreal. Besides, don't you speak French, Papes?"

"About as well as Brian Gionta," the Paperwork Ninja said.

Lucky choked back a laugh. "Yeah, you're so ready for Montreal, Mick."

"Well, if all else fails, we'll wing it, Lucky," Heph said. "The only decision now is whether to wear the jersey that the entire Blackhawks team signed for me or the Chris Chelios Retro jersey I got cheap when I arrive in Canada."

"*BLEEP* DETROIT!" Lucky shouted as if by reflex.

The scene faded to commercial.

(Season 4 Premiere Conclusion, yay!)

Once Heph and Munin arrived at the office, Sandi the Idiot Temp waved them over to her desk.

"Uh, Mr. One," the secretary said to Heph, "Your box of dollies that you ordered is here."

Munin nearly snorted coffee out through her nose.

Heph sighed. "They're not dolls. They're limited-edition action figures."

"But they're so huggable!" Sandi said.

"Just give me the box," Heph grumbled.

Sandi handed over the box to Heph. He reached into it and pulled out a still-packaged Zeus Titan in highly-detailed miniature format. "How the heck is this huggable, Sandi?"

"It's got sad eyes like a lonely puppy!"

"It's got quadruple missile arrays, energy cannons and two biopods running it as an engine of destruction," Heph said.

"No, right there!" Sandi said as she pointed to the nicely-painted figure's main visual sensors. "It looks so sad," she whimpered as she took the toy Titan and hugged it to her suffocation-inducing chest.

"Now, Sandi," Munin said with a grin, "Give Heph his dolly back."

"No," Sandi said. "Not until he calls it Captain Sparkles and gives it a kiss."

Heph's Eyebrow of Disbelief was making thumping noises as it tried to break past its physical stops. "Give me my action figure back. I need it for an upcoming court case."

Sandy pouted. "Not until you apologize to Captain Sparkles."

Heph shrugged. "Fine," he said, stepping forward. There was a noise like a cough as Sandi found a tranquilizer dart embedded in her neck.

"That's not my normal accessor-" the temp said as she lapsed into unconsciousness. Heph grabbed the action figure from Sandi before she hit the floor.

Munin looked at her boss. "When did you get that added?"

"A long time ago," Heph said as he set the dart launcher in his arm to recharge its compressed nitrogen cylinder. I normally don't use it, but... oh, who am I kidding? We need our Paperwork Ninja back. This lady is driving me crazy."

"It's okay, Heph, you can just have a tea party with Captain Sparkles and the rest of your dollies and relax," Munin said with a laugh.

"You're so not helping," Heph said. "Anyway, this Zeus Titan is for the upcoming property-line case we've got over in Hutchinson Park. What we need for the Swan case, though is this." Heph dug further into the box and pulled out an action figure package marked "PPD Special Services Officer."

"They make action figures of the guys who guard the war wall gates?" Munin asked.

"Well, yeah. There's an entire series of police action figures from around the country. It's a collector thing, but I got these for scale dioramas needed at the trials. Well, for the most part," Heph said as he also dug out the latest variant of Hephaestus 1 figures.

"Are those Raiderhosen?" Munin asked.

"Yep!" Heph said. "It'll go right next to the others in my cubicle."

"Wait, aren't those from Japan?"

"One is. Then there's the Talking Heph prototype that I nixed because they wanted to use Bill Cosby's voice and not mine, the first release Heph from the US manufacturer, the second series 'Upgrade' version when I got my arms streamlined, and now there's the Hephtoberfest variant in its signature Raiderhosen."

Munin shook her head. "Boss, you are a serious geek."

"A geek with disposable income, a hot contractually-obligated girlfriend and lasers that go 'PYEWPYEWPYEW' when need be," Heph said.

"And a permanent legal services retainer, don't forget that, Heph," Chris Jenkins said as he walked in.

"Hey, Chris," Heph waved. "Your action figures came in."

Chris hurried over and grabbed two more pacakges from the box. "Yes! I finally got my hands on the new Johnnie Cochran and Alan Dershowitz 'Legal Legends' set!"

"You're going to have them arm-wrestling William Rehnquist and Warren Burger on your credenza, aren't you?" Heph asked.

Munin nearly snorted coffee through her nose again.

"Maybe," Chris said. "More importantly, though, we've finally gotten the court date for dealing with Swan's lecherous habits once and for all."

"Did you get the releases for filming?" Heph asked.

"I got enough of them, yeah," Chris said nonchalantly.

"Did you now?" Munin asked.

"More or less," the lawyer said.

Munin sat down at her desk. "We'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

"You will. I may need to call you as character witnesses, so be ready," Chris said. "Sorry, but you guys can't stay neutral in this case."

"We may be hostile, so you know," Heph said. "I can vouch for both sides and against both sides. I know cops and heroes pretty well."

Chris Jenkins nodded. "So noted. Say, can you see when they're gonna produce the Oliver Wendell Holmes figure?"

The scene faded out and then back as Heph and Munin sat in the courtroom next to Chris Jenkins and Fang. Fang sat there in his dress uniform and the other two heroes also dressed appropriately as usual. A small wooden box sat next to Chris' legal briefs. As the trial passed, Chris was finally able to call upon one of the victims of Swan's alleged sexual harrassment. The PPD officer was sworn in and Chris walked up to the witness stand holding the small wooden box.

"Officer Streibling, I know you've had a difficult time, but can you tell us what happened? Take your time."

"I was on War Wall Entry Point duty on the day in question when Swan led in a team of new heroes to show them where to go to enter the Hollows," the officer said. "She calmly walked over and eyed me up and down, like she was inspecting me. She then greeted me and said--" the officer stopped, choking a little.

"It's okay. Go on," Chris prodded.

"She said 'Well, aren't you a healthy fellow?' and then she touched me inappropriately."

Chris Jenkins turned to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, Oficer Striebling is one of many officers who have suffered this way. But we need to go further, unfortunately." He opened the box to reveal the limited-edition PPD Special Services Officer action figure and set it on a base. The officer paled a little.

"I know it's embarrassing, Officer Striebling, but this is going to help with your case," Chris said gently. "But we need to give a visual representation. Is that okay?"

The police officer nodded.

"Can you show us on the limited-edition action figure where exactly you were touched?" Chris Jenkins asked the police officer.

"Th-there," the rookie cop said, pointing to a specific spot on the action figure. "I'm so ashamed!"

There was a gasp from the jury and the officer stifled a few sobs.

Swan's attorneys had to hold her back as she attempted to leap from her chair.

"THAT'S A LIE!" Swan shouted. "I'd never touch a guy there! Well, not without consent at least!"

The entire court murmered as the judge gaveled the chamber back into silence.

"That's enough outbursts from the defendant," the judge said.

Chris Jenkins returned the figure to its case and looked back to the police officer. "You've done a good thing here, Officer. Do you know of other officers who have suffered this as well?"

The officer nodded. "Yes. They'll be testifying, too."

Chris smiled and looked to the judge. "I'm done, your honor."

The judge nodded. "Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?"

The defense attorney rubbed his temples. "No thank you, your honor."

"The witness may step down," the judge said.

"For my next witness, I call Officer Arnold Lubawicz," Chris Jenkins said.

Fang stood up and walked to the witness stand as the cameras faded out.

When the cameras faded in, the jury was about to read their verdict.

"The jury finds the heroine Swan guilty on all 250 counts of Sexual Harrassment and Creation of A Hostile Work Environment," the foreman said as the audience in the chamber murmured about the decision.

Swan threw her hands in the air. "Where am I going to get that kind of money?" she cried out.

"Someone's going to be working a lot of part-time jobs," Heph whispered to Munin.

Munin nodded. "Think she's gonna pay it back in singles?"

Heph paused in the middle of sipping his coffee. "I'm glad I can't snort coffee out of my nose."

Chris Jenkins leaned back in his chair. "Score one more win for Chris Jenkins, attorney at law! Someone has to show that heroes have a darker side, especially when all that money is on the line!"

Heph looked at the lawyer with a cold stare.

"Okay, some heroes. Heroes who aren't going to kill me with lasers if I don't shut my mouth."

The scene faded to credits.

Hephaestus 1 sat at his desk, typing out his latest twice-weekly column when the advertising director for "Serv'd!" walked into the room. As usual, Kerry walked in unannounced.

"Mick, have you seen the latest numbers?" Kerry asked.

"Yeah, Kerr, they're as good as last week's," Heph said.

"They're the same as last week's, Mick. The numbers have stayed steady since you started the show."

Heph nodded, still fixed on the computer monitor in front of him. "Well, I've got a dedicated audience."

"The dedicated audience isn't buying as much as they used to, and some of our sponsors are getting antsy about flat sales."

"It's a bad economy all around."

"They're looking at dropping sponsorship of the show if they don't see improved sales."

Heph shrugged. "Then we get new sponsors, because anyone with any business sense knows that the last thing you do is cut advertising budgets."

"No, they're just going to redirect their advertising money to other shows like 'The Lives of Rich Spoiled Children' and 'Shallow People On a Beach.'"

"If they want to be associated with lousy reality shows, let 'em."

"Those lousy reality shows have increasing audiences."

"I blame the public school system," Heph said with a sarcastic tone. "But then, you can't teach good taste."

"This is serious, Mick. We're going to lose half of our revenue if we don't increase our ratings," Kerry said.

"Half?" Heph said as his Eyebrow of Disbelief raised.

"At least."

"How do we increase ratings?"

"You won't like what we'll have to do."

"Oh no, no nudity. No nudity, no swearing, no sexual innuendo except for comedic purposes, those are the rules because I'm at least trying to make it more family-friendly than at least seventy-five percent of everything else out there!"

Kerry shuddered. "No. We need to hire writers."

"It's not a reality show if you hire writers to plot things out, Kerry," Heph said.

Kerry dropped a flash drive on Heph's desk. "Here are some profiles to go over. There's a bunch of writers who have reality television experience. We need to hire them."

"I am not hiring writers. I don't want my show to turn into a bunch of contrived crap. I'm not an actor."

Kerry shook his head. "We're losing out to stupid cable reality shows with writers and you're not going to change plans?"

"Kerry, tell me: what's the longest-running reality show currently on tv?"

"'The Real World?'" Kerry asked.

"Wrong. It's 'Cops.' It's been on for over 20 years, about as long as 'The Simpsons.' You want a proven formula? There you go. They maintain their advertising, their ratings, and their revenue," Heph said as he turned his chair to face Kerry. "That's the formula I'm going to emulate, all right?"

"We're going to lose our sponsors," Kerry said.

"You're in advertising. Make this loss into a win. Tell people we're making room for new sponsors," Heph said as he plugged the flash drive into his computer. "One other thing, Kerry: are you trying to find a job for someone you know, someone who just coincidentally happens to be a writer for a reality show that's going belly-up?"

"No, I'm not."

"If I find out otherwise, Kerr, your job will be terminated and I'll be advertising for a new advertising guru," Heph said. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying, Mick. I only know of these people through mutual acquaintances in the business."

"Will a check with social and business networking sites prove that?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?" Heph asked.

"One hundred percent positive," Kerry said.

"All right then. Once I've finished checking online, then I'll start looking at the profiles."

"I just said you don't need to check, Mick," Kerry said.

"Oh, I trust you," Heph said, "but I also like to verify that my trust is well-placed."

Kerry stood there while Heph checked the first writer.

"This is going to take a while, Kerr. Have a seat."

((Season Premiere, part 3!))

Hephaetsus 1 and Agent Munin arrived in the northwest corner of Brickstown as Swan was just about to leave her job of signing off on new security levels for heroes. Two groups of Fifth Column and Council goons were playing stickball when one of the Fifth Column troops forgot the infield fly rule, causing a massive gunfight. Heph and Munin managed to catch Swan while she was still dazzled by the gunfire.

"Hey, Swan, how's things?" Heph asked.

"Oh. You guys," Swan said. "Well, things aren't good if you're here."

"Chill a little, Swan, we're here investigating, not handing out summons," Munin said. "I'm sure you've heard your name mentioned lately at various picket lines in the city, right?"

"I don't know why they're so angry. It's just a little joke is all!" Swan said dismissively. "Come on, they're cops! They get paid to be abused by the city!"

Heph's Eyebrow of Disbelief raised slowly, then lowered. "Excuse me?"

"They get paid by the city to deal with all the stuff we heroes don't want to deal with, and they just give us all this attitude. They're all 'We went to the Academy, we're better than heroes.' Please!" Swan said. "I figure that if you're taking the taxpayer's dime, you deserve to get harassed."

"Oh? Hey, is that your car getting its tires stolen over there, Swan?" Munin said as she pointed to a late-model sedan currently being put up on blocks.

"What? Gah! No! Where are the police? MY RIGHTS HAVE BEEN VIOLATED! I DEMAND JUSTICE!" Swan shouted.

"But you're a hero, Swan, can't you take care of it?" Heph asked.

"No, car thieves are a cop's job, and like normal, they're never around!" the amazonian heroine said.

"Maybe if you were a little less of a jerk they'd be here," Munin muttered.

Swan just shot Munin a look of death. "I'm not a jerk."

"Uh, yeah, you're being one right now," Heph said. "Complaining about cops' salaries, then crying when one's not around because you're too good to fight crime? Total jerk move there."

"Well, I'm gonna have someone's head on a platter for this!" Swan said as she stomped off to the tram.

"Was it me or did she make no sense whatsoever?" Heph asked his partner.

"I think she's got her spandex on too tight," Munin said. "She's really ticked off about something, but I don't think it's completely related to being the target of the Police Benevolent's strike."

"Not completely related?" Heph asked.

"Yeah, it's a hunch."

Heph nodded. "Well, there's someone we can check with."

"Manticore?"

"Yep."

The team of process servers walked up the steps to Manticore's usual hangout. He was speaking to the Cobalt Claymore about things that grim vigilantes of the shadows should normally share with each other.

"Grim grim grim dark grim," Manticore growled.

"Dark grim dark dark darkity grim," the Cobalt Claymore muttered in reply.

"Grim dark! Grim dark grimmy grim grim!" Manticore whispered emphatically.

"Hmm. Grim grim," the blue-cloaked swordsman said. "Catch you later, Manticore. Hey, are you and Sister Psyche still up for the Cubs-Mets game at Citi Field? It's not Wrigley, but baseball is baseball."

"Yeah, we'll be there. Funny how you have to be married these days to go on a double date, huh?"

"Eh, someone's got to keep up the tradition," the Cobalt Claymore said with a shrug. "And remember, 'grim grim, grim darkity grim.'"

Manticore laughed. "CC, that still gets me every time I hear it."

The Cobalt Claymore waved at Heph and Munin and then disappeared into the shadows.

"Hey, Manti," Heph said. "What's the good word?"

"Just finishing up the day's duty rosters. How about you?" Manticore replied.

"So, what's with the whole grimmity-dark talk there?" the big blue cyborg asked.

"Oh. Vigilante-Speak. It's what we use to talk about sensitive subjects in public. We use it when there's ears that shouldn't hear certain things."

"Oh? Like what?" Munin asked.

"Eh, you know. Sensitive stuff," Manticore said with a shrug.

"Like security codes and stuff?" Munin asked again.

"No, just stuff that other, taller, long-legged feather-wearing heroes who get all passive-aggressive when hearing talk about married couples shouldn't hear."

"Ah, got it," Munin said. She paused as realization of the subject set in. "Oh, now I get it!"

Heph nodded. "Yeah, that could be a big part of it. Thanks for the info, Manticore. We may be back if we have more questions."

"That'll be fine," Manticore said.

"And remember, 'grim grim, grim darkity grim!'" Heph said.

Shortly thereafter, Heph and Munin were being chased down the steps by a short, angry hero in red whose words were being bleeped out by the censors.

"He laughed when CC said it!" Heph said as the team got into the SUV and sped off.

"Maybe your timing is off!" Munin said.

"I don't even know what I said," Heph said as he merged into traffic. "Anyway, we'll need to go back to the office and sort a few more things out."

The scene faded to commercials.

((A "Serv'd!" Commercial Break.))

A lizardman in a bad toupee walks in front of a camera.

"Can a fifteen-second call to GECKO Insurance save you five hundred dollars?"

He pauses and looks at the camera dramatically.

"Does Hephaestus 1 make a really bad choice for a Smartcar rally driver?"

The scene shifts to a shot of Hephaestus 1 dressed in racing coveralls and looking at a Smartcar as a gaggle of the little electric vehicles scoot along a track.

"Seriously? This thing's actual size? Seriously?"

The screen fades to black and an announcer gives a simple voice over.

"GECKO Insurance. The Answer is 'Yes, obviously.'"

(Part 2 of the season 4 season premiere!)

The scene faded back in from the commercial break, finding the intrepid duo at the high-security gate between Atlas Park and the former Eastgate nighborhood. A dozen police officers formed a picket line, their protest signs taped to their riot batons.

"SWAN GUILTY OF UNREASONABLE SEARCH AND SEIZURE" was printed on the first sign. "CAN'T YOU JUST SHAKE OUR HANDS?" was written on the next. Each sign was a variation on a plea to the local heroes to stop groping the guards at each security gate.

Heph and Munin walked up to the picket line. "What's going on here, my fellow coppers?" Heph asked.

"Like you don't know, Heph," the first officer said. "For years we've endured the silent shame of getting groped every time one of your so-called hero pals passes through the security gates. For years we've endured the catcalls, the little 'honk honk' noises, even the 'Hey! Cup check!' jokes. The Police Benevolent & Protective Organization of Paragon City isn't standing for it any longer! We've suffered budget and pay cuts, but being told 'just get over it' and 'they're harmless jokes' is just too much. We want justice!"

"Justice... for having women grab your man-bits for good luck as they go headlong into dangerous parts of the city?"

"You know, Mick, I'm now very happy that I use the base teleporters instead of the security gates," Munin said to her big blue teammate.

"There's a lot of new heroes who don't understand that 'NO' means 'NO.' That's why we're picketing all the security gates. And no one ever tells them to show us at least a little professional courtesy and respect our personal space," the first officer said.

"Swan's the worst, though!" a second officer said. "At least Valkyrie and Mynx look embarrassed and mutter something about 'it's only for good luck, honest' or 'it's a stupid tradition' when they go through."

"Yeah!" the first officer said. "Swan's all 'ooh you're a big fella, oh wait that's your flashlight' and 'Wanna extend your baton for me later?" Then she encourages the other heroes to grab us!"

"So, Swan is sexually harrassing you guys and fostering an environment where others are encouraged to do the same?" Munin asked.

"Yes!" the second officer said. "You want to know why? Patrolman Rivers over there got groped a little too enthusiastically by that new hero with the chemically-enhanced superstrength. He was out on disability for six months due to nerve and muscle damage!"

Heph nodded. "Well, that explains why you and I were sent to deliver the license revocation papers to Anabolicus, Em."

"I guess I owe you five bucks. I could've sworn it was for crminial misuse of a toga, Mick," Munin said. "And who would use 'Anabolicus' as a hero name anyway?"

"You run out of good names, you wind up picking the bad ones," Heph said. He turned to the officers. "So is this an informational picket?"

"No, we're blocking gate access. If people want into the Hollows, they'll have to find friends who can teleport them there!" the first officer said.

"Isn't striking like this illegal?" Heph asked.

"We're off-duty," the first officer said. "You go do your job for your shift, then right afterwards you go to the picket line and take over for the previous guys. Our next shift is showing up right now, in fact."

Heph turned and looked at the group of uniformed officers.

"Ah, crap," Heph muttered.

There was Fang, the Littlest Werewolf, leading a group of officers in his patrol gear.

"Ah, crap," Fang muttered as he saw Heph. "I didn't think you were going to be here, Mick."

"Well, the district courts sent us to see what was going on because of a request from the chief of police."

"Then you're supporting us, right?" Fang asked. "Tell the other heroes to stop groping our fellow officers. That's why I'm standing with the cops on this one. What about you, Mick?"

Heph shrugged. "Emmy and I got asked to investigate this, so maybe there's another reason. I can't make a choice now since I don't know the full story."

"I can't see how you could choose any other way, Mick," Fang said. "We always have to watch out for each other."

"Well, maybe things have changed," Heph said. "I don't know."

"Just give us a chance, Fang," Munin said. "We'll get this sorted out."

"Yeah, Manticore said that, too. He promised Back Alley Brawler and Blue Steel that he'd get it all sorted out and what happened? Swan got more blatant about it."

Munin's eyebrow raised up over her glasses, clearly showing she'd been around her boss for way too long. "Sounds like we're on our way to Brickstown, then, boss."

Heph nodded. "Fang, we'll get this situation resolved, okay? Just tell your guys to stay calm and not make a bad situation worse."

"We're right, Mick," Fang said. "So what's to investigate?"

"Keep up that attitude and you'll never be a detective like me or your uncle Larry," Heph said. "There's always something to investigate."

The scene faded to the next commercial break.

((I really liked using multiple parts for each episode, so I'm going to switch over to that format from here on out. It'll be easier for me to keep writing.))

The music and credits for "Serv'd!" didn't change much from the previous year, so fans knew pretty much what to expect from the show. The camera faded in to the familiar scene of Hephaestus 1 and Agent Munin in Heph's office, checking the latest set of subpoenas sent to them for service. Munin was obviously not happy.

"I didn't pick the temp, Em. Honest," Heph said.

"I know that. If you'd have picked the temp we might have gotten a competent one to take over for your paperwork ninja while he's on emergency leave," Munin said. "Why did they saddle us with this one?"

"I guess with Papes being gone, we needed someone to balance out his efficiency," Heph said.

"Mister O'Flannagan?" a breathy and ditzy voice said through the intercom. "I can't find the 'Any' key to start my computer."

Heph's head sunk. "They've burdened us with Sandi the Idiot Temp."

"Every time she says her name I can hear the little heart she draws over the i," Munin grumbled.

"She needs to stop that. I mean, she's done that on everything where she's had to sign her name and it's getting kind of tedious."

Munin glared at her boss. "You go tell her then, boss."

"I can't," Heph said.

"Why not?" Munin asked.

"Uhm. I kind of go out there and forget what it is I asked her to do," Heph said with embarrassment.

"Well, look her in the eyes, then!"

"I've tried that already! It didn't help! I think she's got some kind of superpower that makes you forget why you're mad at her," Heph said.

"She's got two of them, actually."

"I was counting them as parts of a set."

Munin took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, Heph, then I'll do it."

"Thank you!" Heph said. "You may also need to wade through the army of Sandi's would-be suitors in there as well." He went back to cross-checking the stack of papers in order to calculate the route they'd take today.

Munin opened the door. A dozen of the District Court's various clerks and junior lawyers were busy chatting with Sandi, arguing with each other and generally keeping the platinum blonde temp from being able to create a single thought. Well, thinking was tough for her to begin with.

"I'm sorry, guys, but I have to sign all these forms and check email and I'm getting behind because I can't start my computer," Sandi said.

"That's all right, Sandi," a junior lawyer said. "It's not like this is a serious division or anything."

That statement proved to be a mistake as the lawyer found a taser pressed to his neck and fired off. As the lawyer slumped to the floor, the other men stopped to see the ruckus. The ruckus was one short blonde girl with a District Courts Process Server badge hung on a chain around her neck.

"All right, gentlemen, you've gotten your free look at the temp agency's latest offering of pulchritudinous office management," Munin said as she re-holstered the taser. "Sandi," she said with mild shudder, "has work to do. Now get this guy off my boss's floor and get out."

The lawyers and clerks complied with a haste rarely seen in the halls of bureaucracy. Munin turned back to Sandi and pressed one of the keys on Sandi's computer. The screen lit up to the temp's surprise.

"Oh, that would have taken me hours to find!" Sandi said as she leapt up and hugged Munin, nearly suffocating the poor girl. Munin flailed helplessly in an attempt to escape the temp's cleavage.

At this point Heph walked into the reception area of the office. "Em, you said you could handle her superpowers! Anyway, we need to go. Something big is happening at the entrance to the Hollows."

The scene faded out to commercials.

On the season premiere of "Serv'd!":

Heroes and police officers are pitted against each other in a court of law!

"Can you show us on the limited-edition action figure where exactly you were touched?" Chris Jenkins asked the police officer.

"Th-there," the rookie cop said, pointing to a specific spot on the action figure. "I'm so ashamed!"

"THAT'S A LIE!" Swan shouted. "I'd never touch a guy there! Well, not without consent at least!"

Torn between two very different worlds of law enforcement, Heph and Fang must make a decision that could easily destroy their friendship!

"I can't see how you could choose any other way, Mick," Fang said. "We always have to watch out for each other."

"Well, maybe things have changed," Heph said. "I don't know."

This season, be ready for anything! Be ready for "Serv'd!"

"Serv'd!" is still on Friday nights at 10pm Eastern on A&E with an encore presentation on The Hero Channel at 11pm Eastern on Thursday. Check your local listings for channel numbers.

((Season 3, Episode 13, Part 4! Sorry for the delay, folks, the inspiration to write got blocked for a bit.))

As the show came back from commercials, the full Serv'd team had reassembled by a sleek black blue-water racing boat. Clem and Earl were using their technical know-how to get everything prepared.

"All that's left is to find the keys on this bad boy and we can get out of here," Earl said.

"You guys haven't hotwired a boat before?" Heph asked.

"You have?" Clem asked.

Heph looked at his recording teammate for a second.

"Okay, stupid question, then," Clem said. "I retract it."

Heph pulled a fiber-optic line from a spool inside his head and shoved it under the ignition panel. "All right, let me see what's what in here and- ah, got it! Standard Mariner Corporation ignition system."

"You know what those look like on the inside?" Munin asked.

"I also have online access to their schematics," Heph said. "If you have a wi-fi signal, you have internet access. Besides, Internet is a buddy of mine."

"Internet?" Munin asked.

"Television's little brother. I help them with ratings and access, they help me with stuff like White Sox telecasts and instant schematics finding," Heph said.

"Who don't you know, Mick?" Munin asked.

"It's part of being a cop. You have to network to get new information sources and to keep all your information channels honest."

"That's taking it to another level," Munin said.

"Not really, they're decent guys more or less. Well, except when Television gets on his-"

The signal garbled for a few seconds.

"But it's no different than anyone else who gets up on his soapbox to rant," Heph finished.

The engine rumbled to life as the boat slipped its moorings and casually sped its way to safety. The scene faded back in to the crew at their office.

"The Grey Geist is currently being in-processed at Traffic Division and we're on our way to the end of another season," Heph said over coffee.

"So how did you get past the school's security?" Munin asked. "Not only that, with all the junior-grade villains in that school, how did you make it out in one piece?"

"Elementary, my dear Munin," Heph said from behind his coffee mug. "I'd like to introduce you all to one of my extra helpers." Heph turned to the office door that linked his private office with the main office. "Mickey! Front and center!"

"Right, cousin," a young red-haired man with a shaggy mohawk, excessive tattooing and a chain-encrusted leather jacket walked out of the office.

"Guys, this is my youngest cousin Mickey. His dad, my Uncle Brian, went off in search of the best drinking and brawling he could find after a few years in the Merchant Marine. Mickey was in the Navy then went off with less drunken brawling and more martial artistry."

"Geez, tell them everything," Mickey said. "Mick called me for help since I was nearby at the time. I figured I could take a few weeks off from fighting crime in Detroit and help my cousin on making an escape."

"You had this planned this far in advance?" Munin asked incredulously.

Heph shook his head. "No, that planning goes to a certain ninja-in-law who shall remain nameless."

"Who, our paperwork ninja?" Clem asked.

The Paperwork Ninja appeared behind Clem. "No. He said 'ninja-in-law' not 'ninja strategic planning and logistics specialist.' There's a difference. For one, ninjas-in-law are usually not completely trained by ninjas, but often by similar methods."

Clem's eyes darted to one side. "So... noted," he gulped.

"They also take our jobs," the Paperwork Ninja grumbled. "Jobs my fellow ninjas and I have worked hard to earn!"

"I didn't take anyone's job," Mickey said. "I just helped out a fellow crimefighter in the family is all."

"One moment you're being planted in a university to help facilitate an escape, the next minute you're skimming the entire clan's library for weaknesses and undercutting our prices! It's always the same thing!"

"Right," Heph said after a few awkward moments. "So, who's up for Mexican for lunch? Anyone?"

The screen faded to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 13, Part 3!))

When the show returned from commercials, Hephaestus 1 was found running through the streets of Cap Au Diable with not just his class of Aeon University students, but also a team of Arachnos Controller robots led by Arbiter Sands and a giant red demonic ball of lightning.

"You're on my turf now, Dorothy! WELCOME TO OZ!" Arbiter Sands said as he ordered his robots to open fire. Sadly for Sands, he ordered the robots to attack by waving his drinking arm, which just happened to have a scalding hot cup of coffee in it. The resulting spray from the coffee spalshed on two of the robots who immediately stopped, dropped and rolled, then threatened to sue the makers of the coffee for keeping it so hot. This summoned a crowd of robot lawyers who blocked Sands from progressing any further while the robots' claims and witness statements were processed.

"Curse my need for morning wake-up fuel!" Arbiter Sands shouted to an uncaring sky. "I'll get you, Hephaestus 1, if it's the last thing I do!"

Heph still had to worry about the giant electrical demon chasing him, though.

"RUN, COWARD!" Deathsurge crackled with the sound of a thousand exploding electrical transformers.

Heph, not wishing to be zapped into oblivion or be captured by Arachnos, complied.

"Great, not only is he evil, he's a conoisseur of video games," Heph muttered.

"DON'T KNOCK THE CLASSICS," Deathsurge roared.

"Right," Heph said, still running towards the nearest dock. He opened up a communication channel. "Em? Clem? Earl? Who's on?"

"Ready when you are, boss," Agent Munin said.

"Okay. I'm near a ferry boat. Where are you?" Heph asked.

"Apparently we're near a black market plastic surgeon who sells cheap Icon knockoffs," Munin said.

"Is that the Semi trailer?" Heph asked.

"What Semi trailer?" Munin replied.

"Crud. Well, I'll just head south...er... I guess," Heph said, bounding over the trailer surrounded by hot-off-the-back-of-the-truck deals and a crowd of surly-looking villains. Deathsurge leapt over them as well, still following Heph. Thinking quickly, Heph headed for the water, managing to defy physics and all pretenses of surface tension by bouncing off the surface of the water with another mighty leap. Deathsurge was still following him, floating above the water like the malevolent electrical demon he was.

"I'm bringing a friend along!" Heph said.

"A friend?" Earl asked.

"Okay, I'm being followed by Deathsurge who hates me and wants me to die."

"Hmm, yeah, he does that a lot I hear," Clem said.

"Just be ready!" Heph said as he leapt over Cap au Diable's very own sawmill. Deathsurge floated by, shutting the sawmill down by draining its electrical system. The millworkers took this as a sign for a coffee break, much to the relief of the numerous future sawmill victims who'd been tied to the incoming logs.

Heph landed in the middle of a group of Luddites.

"ROBOT! UNCLEAN!" they shouted.

"No, dang it! I'm a CYBORG!" Heph said, stopping to explain the difference. "I started out as a normal human like you guys did, but instead of living the rest of my life as a cripple, my biological bits were replaced or supplemented with robotic equivalents, allowing me to have my life back! I'm not just a machine, I'm also a human being! Get it right!" the big blue cyborg said.

The Luddites statred at him, then one pointed at him.

"CYBORG! UNCLEAN!" the Luddite shouted.

Heph shook his head and leapt for cover as Deathsurge landed on the Luddites.

"Guys?" Heph shouted into his communicator.

"On it, boss," Munin said as she uncloaked next to Heph, arrows at the ready. "Check this out!"

Munin fired a trio of arrows at Deathsurge, each trailing a superfine wire. The arrows passed through harmlessly.

"Okay," Heph said, "Now what?"

Munin smiled under the faceplate of her new battle armor. "Then I do this!" she said as she dropped the wire reels into a nearby shipping canal. Deathsurge howled as he followed the wires into the water and discharged violently, causing water to spray everywhere. Munin and Heph landed at the edge of the canal.

"Deathsurge, you're grounded!" Munin said.

Heph looked over at his teammate. "Oh, that's a good one."

"You liked it?"

"Bad pun, check, bad guy down, check, use of supernatural abilities and basic electrical theory to deat said bad guy, check. It works!"

"Shiny," Munin said with glee.

"Okay, so who's got the getaway vehicle?" Heph said.

"We're uh, still working on that," Clem said through the communicator system. "Might be able to get a boat on short--" --there was a clanging noise and a grunt of pain-- "notice," Clem continued. "Man, I forgot how heavy these pipewrenches are. Took me a while to swing it!"

"Do we have transport out, though?" Heph asked.

"We do now!" Earl said.

Heph and Munin shot into the sky to meet up with the recording crew as the scene faded to commercials.

===COMMERCIAL BREAK!===

The camera fades in on a nice little storefront in Talos Island, with the name "Tower Bakery" emblazoned on the windows and awnings. A passerby walks past, stops, then looks at the baked goods in the window.

"I should head in," the passerby says. He opens the door, takes a deep breath.

"Mmm... bread."

That's when there's AN EXPLOSION! and everything goes over to a voice-over.

"MORNINGS MORNINGS MORNIIIIIINGS!"

The passerby is knocked on his butt, suprised and alarmed.

"TOWER BAKERY BRINGS YOU THE FINEST IN BREAKFAST GOODS!"

There's another noise of an explosion and the screen switches to a picture of the doughnut counter and coffee station.

"DOUGHNUTS! COFFEE! COPS LOVE BOTH!"

The screen switches to a picture of Hephaestus 1 and Patrolman Fang each holding a doughnut and a cup of coffee. Then there's another explosion.

"PPD APPROVED FOR BREAKFAST!"

The screen switches to another picture of Patrolman Fang giving a thumbs-up.

"WE EVEN MAKE THE FINEST BAGELS FRESH EVERY MORNING!"

The screen switches to an explosion and the word "L'CHAIM!" spins into view.

"AND IT'S NOT JUST DOUGHNUTS, EITHER! TASTE OUR BREAD! TASTE IT!"

The screen explodes and switches to a picture of Nico and Bryan Tower, the owner and his son, dueling with with baguettes.

"BREAD GOOD! TOWER BREAD--"

The screen explodes again and the word "AWESOME!!!" spins into view.

"AWESOOOOOOOME! BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!"

There's another explosion.

"WE MAKE CAKES!"

There's another explosion and the picture switches to Meg Tower, Bryan's mom, decorating a cake.

"OUR CAKE SPECIALIST MAKES BIRTHDAYS, RETIREMENTS, AND CELEBRATIONS MEMORABLE!"

The screen switches to a picture of a cake with the words "Happy Retirement, Stanley!" on it. There is also a wailing guitar solo.

"OUR SPECIAL OCCASION CAKES ARE SO AWESOME THEY'RE MËTÄL, BUT DO WE MAKE WEDDING CAKES? YES!"

There's another explosion and a beautiful wedding cake spins into view.

"A LIFETIME OF LOVE STARTS WITH CAKE!"

The screen explodes again, switching to one of Nico and Meg Towers' wedding photos. Which is surrounded on screen by smaller but still awesome explosions.

"AND JUST REMEMBER WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT BIG BAKERS AT TOWER BAKERY!"

The screen switches to Bryan and Nico showing they're both well over six feet tall.

"BIG BAKERS MAKE BIIIIIG BREAD!"

There's yet another explosion and guitar solo. The screen switches back to a slightly-singed passerby, who's holding a doughnut and a cup of coffee as he stumbles out of Tower Bakery with a baguette under his arm.

"Tower Bakery, at the corner of Phillips and Lewis streets in Talos Island. Open at 6am daily for breakfast. BE THERE!!!!"

The screen fades to the next and likely less-awesome commercial.