jchinds

((Season 3 Episode 13, part 2!))

When the commercial break ended, Heph was seen entering the old records room in the courts building, looking through the old stacks for a particular binder filled with court information. He pulled it off of the shelf and began thumbing through it. As he did, a shadow seemed to grow on the wall of the archive room.

"This is an odd place for a meeting," the shadow said. "Couldn't you have called on my cell phone?"

"Important stuff," Heph said. "I need transportation into Cap Au Diable."

"And so you called me," the shadow said.

"I'm looking for getting there in a subtle manner. I've got to deliver a bunch of summons to the Gray Geist."

"He used to be The Tanzkommandant," the shadow said.

"Yes, that's what I hear these days," Heph said. "Anyway, I need myself, Munin and my recording team transported to Cap while our window of opportunity is good."

"You'll be too recognizable when you arrive, Heph," the shadow said. "People will be hunting you left and right."

"I've got that covered, too. My paperwork ninja is on the case."

"A carefully-constructed paper trail isn't going to help you. You're what, one of three Hephaestus-class cybershells?" the shadow asked.

"I've got that aspect taken care of as well. Just trust me on this, okay?" Heph asked. "What's your fee?"

"Ten percent of the bounty," the shadow said.

"I don't get a bounty for bringing this guy in," Heph said.

"No, ten percent of the bounty on you in Cap," the shadow said.

Heph brought up Arachnos' "Most Wanted Celebrities" list and took a look at the bounty placed on him.

"I'm worth HOW MUCH to them?" Heph asked incredulously. "All of that because I made Arbiter Sands look like a chump?"

"He's sensitive," the shadow said.

"Well, it's highway robbery, but I don't have any choice. Fine, I'll pay it."

"And an additional ten percent to get you out," the shadow said.

"What? Why?"

"Knowing you like I do, Heph, the extraction will occur only after you're finding yourself being chased by the entire campus of Aeon University."

"That's outrageous," Heph said.

"Okay, okay, eight percent. That's because you've helped me through some major life-changing events," the shadow said.

"Eight percent? No, just get me in. My team and I can get out with no problem," Heph said.

"All right, it's your funeral. You'll get the directions on where to meet up once you stop recording," the shadow said.

"Oh, right," Heph said.

The camera faded out. When it faded back in, Heph was back at his desk, speaking with The Mysterious Doctor Nambu, the mad engineer who created his cybershell.

"I think the disguise system will be perfect, Michael," Doctor Nambu said. "They'll never believe it's you. I am also impressed with your paperwork ninja's ability with obtaining proper identification cards on such short notice."

"Well, the Village Hidden in Bureaucracy is known for its ability to get things done through proper filing of forms," Heph said. "I'm ready to field test the system, too."

Doctor Nambu nodded and handed Heph a box. "Here's the final piece of the disguise. Put it on and you should do all right."

Heph opened the box and gasped. A bright light glowed from inside the box. "It's... awesome..."

"I knew you'd like it," Doctor Nambu said.

The scene faded out and back in to Heph, Agent Munin and Heph's faithful recording crew Mitch and Clem arriving on a cargo ship into the Port Oakes dockyards.

"Em, I'll need you and our paperwork ninja to work on maintaining an informational security barrier. You'll also need to provide provide covering fire if I need to get out quickly, Em. Mitch, Clem, you two will need to work the remote cameras this time."

"Got it, Heph," Agent Munin said as she disappeared into the shadows.

"Right," Mitch nodded. Clem didn't say much.

"All right, wish me luck. We're going to see if I can make it past the security drones on the Port Oakes to Cap Au Diable ferry."

Heph walked down the gangplank in his disguise: a well-pressed pair of khakis, casual shoes, an Aeon U. School of Engineering sweatshirt complete with "Caution: Science Happening" warning, and a Chicago White Sox baseball cap that fit his head perfectly. A few of the longshoremen looked at Heph then shrugged.

"Don't that look like Hephaestus 1?" one longshoreman said.

"Nah, that ain't him," the other longshoreman explained. "Hephaestus-class cybershells can't wear hats. They fall off too easy. Ever'body knows that!"

"Oh," the first longshoreman said. "You gotta point."

Heph smiled inwardly. The disguise was perfect.

Heph made his way onto the Port Oakes ferry with no trouble. The scene faded out again. When it came back, the Gray Geist was standing rigidly in front of his class. Heph and a heavily-tattooed young man with flare goggles, chains wrapped tightly around his arms and shoulders and a shaggy red mohawk both stood in front of the class.

"Today we have two late additions to our ballroom dancing class," the old teacher said. "While I hate late additions, it does balance out the ratio between men and women in the class. Let's see here... hmm. O'Flanagan... Michael O'Flannagan?" the Gray Geist said. Heph faceplamed immediately.

"Here," the wildly-dressed young man said. "This should give me enough credits to be considered full-time this semester."

"Yes, another person who doesn't want to learn to dance because it's an important artistic expression," the Gray Geist complained. "And next... ah, a fellow Deutschlander! Bueller?"

Heph looked over. "That's me."

"Ah, yes, Ferrous Bueller. From Engineering."

"We're working on some new machine balance systems, and what better way to test their limits than through Western Civilization's finest non-verbal artistry?"

"Well, Herr Bueller," the Gray Geist said.

"I'm from Winnetka," Heph lied.

"Yes. You seem familiar, like a certain tv star named Hephaestus 1?"

"That's impossible!" Heph said. "He can't wear a hat like I can," he said, pointing to the baseball cap atop his black and blue metal cranium.

"Hmm. You're right. My apologies," the Gray Geist said. "But you must both understand that on this floor, my word is law. I give the orders here."

"All right," Heph and the other O'Flannagan said.

"Who gives the orders here?" the Gray Geist asked.

"All right!" Heph said "It's you. Happy?"

"Pleased as punch, having once been called Tanzkommandant by my friends and my soldiers." the Geist said. "Now, everyone, choose a partner and prepare. Today we'll be going through one of the most graceful dances ever, the waltz. Now, positions!"

Everyone lined up. Heph was stuck with a girl who couldn't have been more than five feet tall.

"This will be difficult," Heph said.

"Tell me about it. I have to touch an engineering student," the girl shot back.

The strains of Johann Strauss began. "ONE- TWO- THREE-" the Grey Geist barked as the students made their way inexpertly through the dance. When it ended, Heph bowed to his partner, removing his baseball cap for flourish.

The Grey Geist's expression changed to one of shock. "You- but you said- but you aren't-"

Heph's partner looked at the big blue cyborg, her eyes flashing with fire. "Ferrous Bueller, you're a hero!"

"Yep," Heph said, "caught by my own sense of decorum." Heph scrambled quickly for his messenger bag, handing the Gray Geist a sheaf of papers and slapping a teleport beacon on the old man's back. "See you in traffic court, Geist!"

With that, Heph ran for the door, and the screen faded to commercials.

((Season 3, Episode 13!))

The theme to "Serv'd!" played as the opening credits rolled.

Hephaestus 1 arrived at his desk to find a few more unopened birthday cards from the other departments.

"You turn fifty and all of a sudden it turns from birthday cards to condolence cards," the big blue cyborg said to his teammates as they arrived.

"My wife and children and I enjoyed the staff party," the Paperwork Ninja said. "I do apologize for stepping out for a moment, I was feeling a little claustrophobic."

"Well, when you try to fit about forty adults, eight kids and two cats into the apartment it gets really cramped," Heph said.

Agent Munin nodded. "That hot sauce and chicken cheese dip was very shiny, Heph. Where did you find the recipe?"

"Eh, it's someone from back home who made it and I just estimated it from there," Heph shrugged.

After thirty minutes or so Patrolman Fang walked in, checking a PDA on a few things. "Hey guys, I was wondering if you had any case information on a specific super-powered traffic scofflaw."

"Who is it?" the Paperwork Ninja asked.

"He goes by the name of the Grey Geist," Fang said. "I'm looking his information up to do sme work on some cold-case files."

The Paperwork Ninja looked over to Heph and Munin. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have his records ready for study."

Heph nodded. "Get on it. Meet us in the conference room on the second floor and we'll go over it." He motioned to Munin and Fang to follow him. "What's the deal with this guy, Fang?"

Fang shrugged. "Well, it's an odd story..."

"Odd stories are usually the best," Munin said.

Half an hour later, the team re-assembled at the conference room. "All right, crew, here's the last file footage we have of this Grey Geist person from the last time he was in Paragon City," Heph said as he played the video file. Patrolman Fang, Agent Munin, and the Paperwork Ninja sat at the conference table and watched.

A half-sized turretless tank crawled its way into the camera view of the Atlas Park Mighty Mart, which then bumped into a few compact cars and blatantly double parked in the handicapped spots. The hatch on top of the tank opened up and an old man in old tweed hunting jacket and breeches clambered out and gracefully made his way into the convenience store. Meanwhile, two cars with handicapped plates stopped, having to wait for the miniature tank to leave. As the old man exited the store with a 64-ounce Mighty Ice, Heph stopped the video.

"That's him," Heph said. "The Grey Geist, apparently also known in the 40s as the head of the Luftwaffe's Dancing Paratroopers. The Tanzkommandant. And now he owes Paragon City a quarter million dollars in unpaid parking fines because of antics like this."

"He used to be the Tanzkommandant?" Fang asked in a tone that sounded like he was faking being surprised. "We have to catch him for that alone, Heph!"

"Sorry, Fang," Heph said. "You can't come along. He's now a ballroom dance instructor at Aeon University in the Rogue Isles. That's outside your jurisdiction. However, we here at the district courts have gotten an agreement for extradition to Paragon City, where he'll appear in traffic court to pay those fines."

"We'll bring him back, Fang, don't worry," Agent Munin said. "We haven't flubbed a service yet."

"Yeah, but this is kinda personal," Fang said. "For a guy like Patrolman Fang this is no big deal... but for a guy like Arnold Z. Lubawicz to catch the Tanzkommandant?" Fang asked, prominently showing his uniform's name plate of "A. Lubawicz" to Munin. "It would be awesome."

Munin nodded. "Yeah, I can see why it's personal."

Heph sighed. "I got it, Fang, don't worry."

"He's got a quarter million in parking fines, a complaint filed by Captain Fashionable for disrupting a costume contest in front of City Hall and an outstaning ticket for parking that litle tank of his on the right foot of the Atlas statue," Fang said. "That's not personal."

"No," Heph said, "but there's other stuff there, too. I had a similar discussion a few nights back with another young hero."

"Oh," Fang said.

"So right now this is my case, Fang. You'll get your chance once I'm done, got it?" Heph asked.

"Well, hurry up then," the diminuitive werewolf said. "It's taken long enough. This guy has to be caught."

"Right, right," Heph said as the scene cut to a commercial.

((Episode 12, the conclusion! Beware. In-jokes dead ahead.))

Heph and Agent Munin found themselves in one of the green rooms for the Morty Blovich Show, sitting between Posthaste and One Hit Wonder. While Munin's eyes darted back and forth nervously, Heph settled in with a tray of doughnuts and a large cup of coffee.

"Okay," Heph said, "I need to find the bakery who does Morty's catering. This stuff is good!" The big blue cyborg offered the tray of powdered doughnuts to Munin. "Want one?"

"I better not," Munin said. "I don't like getting powdered sugar on my clothes."

"Wondie?" Heph asked One Hit Wonder. "How about you?"

"I'm good, Heph," One Hit Wonder said as she stretched a little.

"How about you, Posty?" Heph asked Posthaste.

"Whah doughnuff?" the speedster said behind a mouthful of doughnuts.

Heph looked down at the empty tray in front of him then back at Posthaste. "I'm forgiving you for eating all of those delicious doughnuts because of your high metabolism and your delicate condition."

Posthaste finished off the doughnuts with a gulp. "Delicate condition?"

"Yeah, if it turns out that Morty was wrong and those really are your kids, we'll be--" Heph said, then stopped as Munin jabbed her elbow into his side. The blonde-haired archer nodded towards One Hit Wonder.

"Not helping, Heph," Munin said coldly.

Heph nodded. "Oh. Right."

"Oh, I'm sure Morty didn't mess up," One Hit Wonder said sweetly. "Because then I'd have to set Posty on fire. And he doesn't want that, does he?"

"I think I can speak for all of humanity when I say that no one wants to be set on fire except maybe for a few real weirdoes," Heph said.

Munin perked up. "Oh! That reminds me! We still have to get the summons delivered for that public indecency trial."

"Right, right, that's the case with the highly-flammable martial artist called Burning Wang."

"No, it's the case where a horde of bored middle-aged housewives forcibly stripped a local stage magician known as The Fantastic Wang. Then they sued him for false advertising. Burning Wang is his brother," Munin deadpanned.

"Right. Wrong Wang," Heph said.

"No, that's their brother who's a habitual shoplifter and vandal."

"So they all go by nicknames?" Heph asked.

Munin nodded. "Well, people apparently got them mixed up when they used their real names, Yu and Hu."

"Yu Wang and Hu Wang?" Heph asked, worried about what oddity was coming next.

"They all use nicknames except for one, the itinerant explosives expert who was named after Old Man Wang's favorite football player," Munin said.

"Let me guess... Boomer Wang?" Heph said.

"No. Larry Wang. Old Man Wang was a huge Miami Dolphins fan back in the day, apparently," Munin deadpanned. "Who in their right mind would name their kid 'Boomer'?"

Posthaste and One Hit Wonder just stared.

"How... how do you guys handle the strain?" Posthaste asked.

"That's easy, Uncle Posty," Munin said. "We're professionals. Besides, the Wang family is probably one of the few cases where an entire extended family goes into the crimefighting business.

"They're good people even though they can be a little on the aloof side when you first meet them. They might be Wangs, but they're our Wangs," Heph added.

One Hit Wonder looked over at Posthaste. "Honey, how is it you haven't gone insane by having him at your shows?"

"No idea," Posthaste said.

As if on cue, Morty Blovich poked his head into the green room. "Okay, you four, you'll be on in two minutes."

The four heroes stood up and got ready to head to the studio stage. The footage then switched to that of the Morty Blovich Show.

"All right, next up on our show is another shocking revelation!" Morty said to the audience. "It seems that someone has been having a little problem in the matter of marital fidelity if these thirty-seven women and their superpowered children are any indication!" Morty waved his note cards over to a makeshift bleacher section where thirty-seven women and thirty-seven children sat, most of whom were wearing "Posthaste: Paragon City's Babydaddy" t-shirts.

"So, to face the music, we've invited The Cape Radio's very own Posthaste to our show. Posthaste, come on out!" Morty said as the show's music came up. Posthaste walked out to a booing crowd, giving a "what do you expect?" shrug to the audience. Heph, Munin and One Hit Wonder followed right out after him.

Morty smiled. "Ah, it looks like you've brought backup today, Posthaste!"

"Yeah, yeah," Posthaste said. "Look, let's get this over with, all right? One Hit Wonder and I have been on edge for way too long over these stupid lawsuits and it's time my good name was cleared!"

"Well, thanks to your good friend Hephaestus 1 and his contacts in the legal world as well as my team of crack researchers, we can put some finality on this entire subject." Morty waved to the next person off stage. "With some help from the legal team at the Chris Jenkins Law Firm, we managed to get the DNA Evidence that will show once and for all if Posthaste has a problem with marital infidelity. Chris! Come on out with the results!"

"Wait, how did you get my DNA?" Posthaste asked.

"Never you mind," Heph said. "The important thing is that we got it from an impeccable source."

The music played again and Chris Jenkins, Attorney-at-Law swaggered out to boos and jeers as well. He had an envelope with a gold seal affixed to the flap. "Thank you, thank you, Morty. As you know, I spend a lot of time suing the daylights out of heroes for wrongful injury lawsuits. In the spirit of the Christmas season, though, I thought I'd help out a hero who desperately needed it."

Heph looked at Chris, his Eyebrow of Disbelief rising slightly.

Chris notice Heph's stare and smiled sheepishly. "I also don't want to be handed back over to U'Kon Grai."

"That's better," Heph said.

Chris handed the envelope over to Morty, whose eyes darted back and forth between Posthaste's crew and the horde of single mothers. He smiled with anticipation. "And the results are..."

Morty opened the envelope. The camera cut to Posthaste, then to the moms, then back to Morty.

"Posthaste, you are not the father of these thirty-seven children!"

The crowd booed and jeered as Posthaste danced for joy. "YES! EXONERATION IS MINE!" he shouted. Heph, Munin and One Hit Wonder stepped forward to guard the jubilant hero.

"I'll hug you later, Posty," One Hit Wonder said. "Right now I'm going to try to keep the angry mob away from you."

Posthaste stopped dancing, walked over to Morty and hugged him. "Yes! I just want to say one thing, Morty!" He grabbed the microphone and looked into the camera. "How does failure taste, Citadel?"

Morty smiled as he took the microphone back. "Why not ask Citadel in person? Come on out, Citadel!"

Talos Island's most famous robot walked out onto the stage looking rather confused. "I... I was told I would be meeting... Luminary... here to discuss her problem with not returning my emails." He then looked at Posthaste. "You! You ruined my reputation! I do not say... Luminary... in a humorous manner! Now everyone who helps me with various tasks always says 'Hey, Citadel, say your friend's name!' and then I get angry and kick them off the team roster!"

"I'm sorry!" Posthaste said. "You just always say her name with such emphasis it made me laugh."

"Luminary... is a dear friend of mine. Please do not take my respect for her skills in dealing with people as something worthy of japery," Citadel said.

"Well, that was no reason to push thirty-seven paternity lawsuits on me!"

"I did no such thing!"

"You helped pay for them! The lawyers admitted to getting paid cash via your little courier robots!"

"My robots did nothing of the sort! They only serve to get freshly-recharged batteries for myself and... Luminary... during our daily tasks of assigning new heroes to certain tasks and signing off on their security level upgrades!" Citadel said. "And if you don't agree, I think we should take this outside!

Morty gave another "I know something you don't" smirk to the two bickering heroes. "Now, now, heroes, let's be civil. Besides, you two shouldn't be angry at each other."

"What?" Posthaste and Citadel said.

"No, thanks to my research crew and the remains of a courier robot, we found out something very interesting." Morty looked over at Citadel. "This robot looks like yours, Citadel, but you are not the progenitor!"

"Well, that's good to know!" Citadel. "Wait, why is that good to know?"

Morty grinned. "Because I have the real builder of this mini-bot waiting in the wings! Come on out, Vandal!"

The Fifth Column's master of robotics walked out amid more boos. When he noticed the assembly of heroes, lawyers, and talk-show hosts, he became suspicious.

"Wait," Vandal said. "There's the guy who I tricked into thinking that he was being sued by my real target. And there's the real target, Citadel, whose reputation I was going to ruin by making it look like he was filing frivolous lawsuits against other heroes for petty reasons... and there's the process servers who..."

"This was a set-up to get at Citadel?" Posthaste interrupted. "I feel so used!"

"You were trying to ruin my reputation by not only building shoddy copies of me, but also by making it look like I was overly litigious?" Citadel asked. "You, sir, are the basest of villains, indeed!"

"So, this is not really a chance for me to reveal my feelings to Arakhn?" Vandal asked.

"No, sorry, Vandal, that was just a ruse to get you into the same room as the people whose lives you've been ruining through excessive litigation, both the single mothers and the heroes."

"Well, I wouldn't say it was totally ruined," Chris Jenkins added. "Okay, maybe it was a little ruined."

"The problem with your scheme, Vandal, is that heroes don't sneak around and sue each other," Heph said. "They confront each other eye-to-eye and then they sue each other. That's what set off my old detective's intuition."

Munin added her own explanation. "And when I found that courier robot I began to think that we were chasing the wrong guy. Heph helped confirm that."

"And who's a robot-building enemy of Citadel's, who just happens to regularly try to use him as a template for an army of robot villains?" Heph asked.

"I still feel used!" Posthaste chimed in. "Don't forget that!"

"Well," Vandal said nervously as he began to take a few steps back. "All's well that ends well, right? Right?"

"No," One Hit Wonder said. "You made my husband look like he was cheating on me, and made me lose valuable time preparing for my own radio show on The Cape. I could have lost listeners because of you! Hell hath no fury like a woman with fire powers scorned, Vandal!" The young woman summoned a large handful of fire. "I am so setting you on fire for that."

Vandal stopped. "Oh. Doodycakes." He broke into a run as Posthaste, One Hit Wonder, Munin, and thirty-seven superpowered children chased him out of the studio. Morty and Heph stood there with Chris Jenkins.

"Well, I think we've learned a valuable lesson today, Morty," Heph said.

"You're right. Sometimes things that seem cut and dried really aren't," Morty said. "Sometimes a plan to sue a hero into grinding poverty is just cover for a greater plan to discredit another hero."

"And sometimes even a trial lawyer can serve a greater purpose other than as a backstop at a rifle range," Heph added.

"And hey, everyone in the television audience! Call me if you need to sue someone!" Chris added.

"Right, right," Morty said. "Well, for Hephaestus 1 and Chris Jenkins, this is Morty Blovich signing off. Good day to you, Paragon City!" The talk show's theme music played as the audience left the studio.

Morty turned to Heph. "So, how did you manage to get the DNA evidence we needed to prove Posthaste's non-paternity?"

"I have sources," Heph said.

The camera cut to a small hideout in the Rogue Isles which was covered in posters of Rob Zombie and Posthaste and the word "YAY!" painted on the walls. The Mighty MANCRUSH sat there with a 55-gallon drum of ice cream, two tickets to the next Rob Zombie concert, and a key.

"Hooray! Now MANCRUSH can surprise Posthaste with concert tickets in bed for Christmas! Posthaste and One Hit Wonder will love them and thus also love MANCRUSH! And all it cost was a pair of Posthaste's sweatiest athletic socks! MANCRUSH is totally pleased with the trade of sweat socks for tickets, ice cream, and a spare key to Posthaste's house! YAAAY!"

The camera faded out to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 12, part 3!))

When the show came back in from commercial the team had already pulled up to WPWN-TV's studios.

The scene cut to a side view of the Morty Blovich show's set. A young red-haired woman in a peasant skirt and blouse, spotted bandanna, and tricorner hat sat in one of the chairs, puffing demurely at a cigar, cutlass by her side.

"Well, Black-Hearted Jenny," Morty said in his usual wind-up, "it seems that your boyfriend Kaz has something to tell you."

"Arr," Jenny replied. "Be he expandin' his fleet o' swordboats? Where we don't sell our catch we can pillage just as fast with 'em!"

Morty looked to the cameras with his wiser-than-thou smirk. "Not quite. Kaz! Come on out here and spill your secret!"

"I'm already here, Morty," came the voice from the empty chair next to Black-Hearted Jenny. The pirate's eyes narrowed.

"Where be ye, Kaz?" Jenny said suspiciously.

"Right next to you." In a cloud of smoke a young man appeared, seated next to his girlfriend. His clothes were a shadowy mix of midnight blue, black and gray, and his face was covered in a traditional ninja mask.

"I'm a ninja, Jenny. I've been trying to get you to admit that for a year now," the young man said, hand on his own pair of blades.

"This... THIS BE LOVE MUTINY!" Jenny said as her cutlass flashed towards Kaz's head. "Avast, me sea dogs! Attend yer captain!" she shouted as a group of vicious-looking sailors stood up from the crowd, only to dive for cover as a hail of shuriken launched from out of the shadows.

Morty smiled amid the fighting, the studio audience scrambling for safety and the general chaos. He pointed to the camera. "We'll be right back!" he shouted shortly before the camera was crushed by a five-pound cannonball. The daytime talk show host ducked and wove his way through the battle to get offstage.

Heph, Munin and their faithful recording team were in the reception area as Morty jogged in. "Heph! What brings you here on 'Shocking Revelations Day'?"

Heph looked over at the melee and mayhem in the studio. "Uh, is anyone going to stop that?"

Morty looked back behind him. "Oh! Right!" The host pushed a button on his wristwatch, sealing off the entire set and studio audience portion of the soundstage from the rest of the studio. As soon as the plexiglas walls dropped and sealed, an odd greenish mist fell upon the crowd of violent pirates, aggressive ninjas and hapless bystanders.

"Soviet surplus knockout gas. Stops arguments like that!" Morty said with a snap of his fingers.

Heph and Munin looked at each other and shrugged.

"Anyway," Heph said, "I'm here because you've got one of the best teams of genetic testers in the daytime talk show business at your beck and call. You've heard about Posthaste's thirty-seven little problems, I take it?"

"Heard about it?" Morty asked incredulously, "I've been waiting to hand you the results of the DNA tests!"

"You had them already done?" Munin asked. "How?"

"It's a trade secret, kid," Morty said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "But I can tell you this. Out of all thirty-seven kids, Posthaste is definitely not the father!"

"Well, that's good!" Heph said with a sigh of relief.

"Well, it's as obvious as the nose on your face... er, uh, no offense," Morty said.

"None taken, though the tabloids will say I punched you through a roof tomorrow," Heph said. "The thing is, though, I need your crack team of researchers to do a little more testing for me on a couple of the kids for another case."

"Heph, we've got the evidence to clear Posty's good name, so why are we worried about other cases?" Munin said. "Now we can work on linking Citadel to this!"

"How so?" Heph said.

"Hang on a sec," Munin said as she ran out to the truck.

Heph looked back at the now-unconscious crowd of pirates and ninjas in the gas-filled section of the studio. "So, uh, how long will they be like that?"

"Oh, once we pump in some fresh air, they'll be back to normal in no time, if I remember my Russian correctly," Morty said.

"You speak Russian?"

"Okay, if the translation engine I used worked right," Morty said. "Frankly all I know is that no one's twitching and dying in there, so it's all good for all I care."

Heph's Eyebrow of Disbelief rose a little. "I see."

Munin came back into the studio with what looked to be some kind of camera case. "I caught one of the courier robots that have been passing money back and forth between Citadel and those lawyers."

The young archer opened the box to reveal a small collection of dismantled robot parts. The patterning on the robot's outer shell was very reminiscent of Citadel's circuitry. Heph picked up the little robot's head and looked at it appraisingly.

"You do DNA testing so well, Morty, how about a challenge? Do you think you can read the manufacturing marks on this to determine where, when and by who this robot was made?"

Morty nodded. "Done and done, Heph! I'll get my best lackeys and minions on it immediately!" Morty waved over two production assistants in lab coats, who picked up the box and labeled it, then carried it away. "I guess this is just a case of a good robot being pushed too far by people who don't know him too well. By the way, when are we getting your crew, Posthaste, One Hit Wonder and Citadel together for a taping?"

"Uh, never?" Heph said with a shrug. "This really isn't good daytime tv fare."

"Heph, you might know reality television, but you don't know daytime talk shows. This is perfect daytime fare!"

The scene faded out and then back in as the team walked back into their office at the Rhode Island District Courts building. Heph's cellphone link rang as he picked it up for the recording team.

"Hello?" Heph said.

"Heph! It's Morty. My researchers have found something very interesting! And even better, this will make for some amazing daytime television!"

"Oh, crap," Heph said as the realization sank in. He turned to Munin. "Em, get ready. We're going to be on someone else's TV show."

The screen faded to commercial.

((Season 3, Episode 12, part 2!))

As the show returned from its commercial break, Heph, Agent Munin and the camera crew were at the offices of Chris Jenkins, Attorney-At-Law. They were ushered into Chris' extravagantly-outfitted office quickly.

"Mick! Great to see you again," Jenkins said. "Now, tell me, what can Paragon City's best methuman-injury lawyer do for you today? Cigar?" he asked, offering a humidity-controlled box of Punch cigars to his large blue visitor.

"Dominicans?" Heph asked.

"Naturally," Jenkins said. "I'm a red-blooded American sleazeball lawyer, after all."

"Don't mind if I do, then," Heph said, lighting up the cigar and taking a few drags. "Anyway, I need your assistance on behalf of The Cape Radio's very own Posthaste."

"Why didn't he come to me, then?" Jenkins asked.

"Because I'm asking on his behalf," Heph said. "Besides, who saved your sorry butt from the Rikti Anti-Defamation League?"

"You did," Jenkins said.

"Which lawyer promised me a lifetime of no-charge legal advice and discounted research work as a token of thanks after saving his sorry hide from the reality-warping nightmare known as I EAT PASTE MAN?"

"I did," Jenkins said.

"Well, I need your help in doing some discovery on Posty's behalf," Heph said. "I need solid evidence on who's bankrolling the thirty-seven paternity suits being leveled against Posthaste."

"Thirty-seven?" Jenkins asked.

"Yep. Imagine the payday of beating thirty-seven suits in one go. Even if it's just loser pays legal fees."

Jenkins seemed to gasp, then regained his composure. "Excuse me, I'll be in my private chambers for a moment." With that, the lawyer ran to his personal law library and slammed the door shut.

"He's not doing what I think he's doing, is he?" Munin asked.

"No. He is, however, salivating openly and rolling around in his BVDs on the most recently-printed stacks of Westlaw references while singing the male lead to Beethoven's Ode to Joy," Heph said.

Agent Munin looked at her boss with horror.

"I'm a cyborg," Heph said to his partner from around his cigar. "And my sensor feed picked up enough that I can safely say that I'm never going to unsee it."

"Can't you shut that down?" she asked.

"No," Heph replied. "My sensory feed is often a nightmare of regrettable sights, sounds, and other horrors."

"Like what, smells?"

"Now you know why I'm smoking a cigar," Heph said. "It's like using oil of wintergreen in your mustache when dealing with decayed bodies at a crime scene."

After about twenty minutes, Chris Jenkins walked back in, adjusting his tie. "I'll take the case!"

Heph turned to his teammate. "Okay, Em, hand over the copies of the data we've found so far and we'll be off."

"Wait, can we trust him, Heph?"

"I'll hand him over to the Rikti if he misbehaves," Heph said.

"Not to I EAT PASTE MAN?" Munin asked.

"The world doesn't need another pro-wrestling lawyer," Heph answered. "I EAT PASTE MAN has peculiar ideas on what lawyers do."

Agent Munin shook her head. "What an idiot." She dropped a hard copy of the current information gleaned from The Cape Radio's commercial recording session logs on Jenkins' desk. "Our biggest suspect at the moment is Citadel. It seems that he and Uncle Posty had an argument during the recording session for the Isaac Academy. Posty kept snickering at the way that Citadel said the name 'Luminary' and this caused our member of the Freedom Phalanx to storm out angrily."

"Hmm," Jenkins said. "It's interesting, but does Citadel have the kind of money to bankroll that?"

"He rarely spends his money on anything. He's a robot and doesn't have many needs. Even with his charities he's still loaded," Heph said. "And uh, Chris? You're drooling again."

"Uhm, sorry," Jenkins said. "Anyway, since it's all paternity suits, we'll need to get DNA tests done. Who's got time to do thirty-seven DNA tests?"

"Only one man has that kind of time and influence to get them done simultaneously. That man is Morty Blovich, king of Paragon City's daytime talk shows."

Munin stood up and gathered up her gear. "I hear today's episode is going to reveal shocking secrets that could destroy a friendship," she said.

"Yeah, pretty much," Heph said. "That's how it's usually scheduled. Walk in with swagger, hear shocking secret, fly into publicity-fueled tantrum, and cut to commercial."

"How do you know that?"

"Jerry Springer's shows are in Chicago. It follows the same schedule. Oprah's isn't much different except that it's walk, hear, tearful response, and cut to commercial with promise of help from medical celebrity," Heph said. "Anyway, to the truck, then into the bowels of entertainment at its lowest common denominator."

"Will we regret this, boss?" Munin asked.

"We'll find out," Heph said as they faded to commercial. "We'll find out."

From herogossip.com:

"You know it was a messed-up dream when you wake yourself up by shouting 'Field Marshal von Sprinkles! Hand me THE SQUEAKY MALLET!' The cats are usually pretty disturbed by it, too, but I think it's more from the shouting than the concept." -- Mick "Hephaestus 1" O'Flannagan, overheard at The Vicious Snark Pub's weekly Kings Row Homebrewers Society meeting

((Serv'd! Episode 12))

The theme music to "Serv'd!" ended as the cameras faded in to the Metahuman Process Service office where Agent Munin, Hephaestus 1, and the Paperwork Ninja worked for the Rhode Island District Courts. Heph sat at his workstation, reviewing the paperwork again after sending it out.

Thirty-seven subpoenas addressed to a certain Cape Radio celebrity, Posthaste, had been filed from thirty-seven different lawyers in the name of thirty-seven different women. Thirty-six were in English, but one had to be translated from Late Empire Latin.

"Mercurius Maximus Celeritas," Heph said as he looked at the papyrus sheets in front of him.

Munin fumed at her desk. "Posthaste wouldn't do this! He's married!"

"And married to a woman who could set him on fire, no less. That'll keep most guys from straying," Heph said. "It works in my case."

"Shava would set you on fire?" the Paperwork Ninja asked.

"Well, yeah. She'd sue for breach of contract, then set me on fire because she was heartbroken. I couldn't do that to her, anyway," Heph said. "I'm not getting into that, though."

Heph and Munin's stealthy case manager sat down at Heph's desk and flipped through the summaries. "Thirty-six women in town have stated that Posthaste is the father to their child. The reasoning is that these thirty-six women all have children aged eight to sixteen who have superpowers related to high rates of speed."

Munin looked through the files available on her desk. "But, PN, Posty wasn't even here when most of these kids were born!"

"Time travel," the Paperwork Ninja said. "Mercurius Celeritas was born to Potential Posthaste Paramour Number 37 in Cimerora in... says here 465 C.E. And lots of heroes tend to go there for sun, fun and beating the crap out of evil, right?"

Heph sighed. "I know it's not our job to investigate this stuff. We serve papers to folks, that's it. But I don't like seeing any heroes threatened with suits like this. Especially when it's a close personal friend like Posthaste."

"Posty is a close personal friend of yours, Heph?" Munin asked.

"Well, he was a good sport about being in my Bavarian Raiding Song video, so I owe him one for that at least," the big blue cyborg said.

"Yeah, he seemed kind of squicked about it," Munin said.

"I was hoping the paycheck would soothe his hurting," Heph said. "Regardless, I say we help find out if these kids really are his or not."

"How about DNA tests?" Munin and the Paperwork Ninja said simultaneously.

Heph shrugged. "The lawyers are dragging their feet on those tests at the moment. I know of a couple guys who might be able to help with that, though."

"Who's that?" Munin asked.

"Two big names in Paragon City: one in the field of law, the other in the field of daytime talk. I'm talking of none other than Chris Jenkins and Morty Blovich!"

The scene faded to commercial.

Attercap: 18 Wheels of Justice. And Catgirls.

((Serv'd! Season 3, Episode 11 - The Oktoberfest Holiday Special!))

The opening credits rolled to a certain song this week: "Beer, Breakfast of Champions" by the Polkaholics. As the credits ended, the camera focused on Hephaestus 1 pouring out a mug of beer from a large cask. He was also out of uniform, instead wearing Raiderhosen (the Tactical lederhosen) in celebration of Oktoberfest.

"All right, Em," Heph said to Agent Munin as he placed the mug on a large platter, "the last beer's up."

"This is not what I envisioned doing on my day off, Mick," Munin said as she grabbed the platter and carried it to a table of waiting drinkers. "And did I have to wear this stupid dirndl outfit?"

"Yes. BEERTRUCKtoberfest requires it. Look at Tommy and Fang," heph said, pointing over to Back Yard Boom and Fang, both stuck in lederhosen and attempting to not butcher traditional Bavarian dancing.

"Hatin' life yet, Fang?" Back Yard Boom asked asked as he kept to the oompah beat.

"I've been hating it since I got here, Tommy," Fang said. "I keep worrying that the hole I had to cut out of these lederhosen for my tail is going to rip further."

"Bad mental image, man," Tommy said as he nearly missed a step.

The cameras switched back to Heph and Munin. "Well, Em," Heph said, "the turnout for BEERTRUCKtoberfest is better than the Paragon City Microbrewers' League expected. Then again, everyone seems to like the idea of BEERTRUCK, the mobile biergarten."

"TO BEERTRUCK!" a table of partiers slurred loudly.

Back at the Rhode Island District Courts office, the Paperwork Ninja sighed and shook his head. The stack of unserved Small Claims Court summons for the hero and villain crowd was stacking up by the minute. Still, even process servers have to have time off.

"Justice has no fixed schedule, apparently," the office worker said to no one in particular.

"There is little in this world that's nicer than being able to take your party with you," Heph said as BEERTRUCK slowly moved its way towards the Paragon Police Department headquarters, "and besides, we're off to BEERTRUCKtoberfest's next stop, The Vicious Snark Pub."

The crowd of partiers cheered. The Vicious Snark was known for its brown ale, perfect for a few pints among friends. As the mobile biergarten and the attendant support truck BEERTRUCK Junior slowed down in front of the police headquarters, the telltale warping of space that preceded a Rikti invasion began.

"Humans: Surrender." the Rikti raid leader stated quite loudly. "Penalty: Failure: Surrender: Painful. Very: Painful." As the Rikti leader spoke those words, a dozen Rikti Assault suits teleported in along with a larger than normal raiding force. "Targets: Festival: Mobile: Beer. Vengeance: Sought: Bavarians! Targets: Additional: Brewers: Localities: Various!"

Heph leapt atop the cab of the mobile biergarten. "You can take our lives, but you'll never take our varietals! BEERTRUCKERS UNITE! DESTROY ALL RIKTI!" With a mighty roar from their one sober brain cell, the partiers fell upon the Rikti, laying waste to the main troops. The heroes concentrated on the assault suits and the Rikti raid leader. Time and time again, the small number of heroes were pushed back by the onslaught of the Rikti assault suits.

"Suit: Pilots: Fearless," the Rikti Leader said. "Pilots: Monkeys. Monkeys: Missing: Fear: Bavarians. Laughter: Evil: Commencing. Ha: Ha: Ha."

"Regroup at BEERTRUCK!" Heph shouted over the chaos of the fight. The heroes regouped for a second attack.

"Okay, Tommy, Fang, and Em, I think we have ourselves a little problem. There's four of us and thirteen of them, and our Raiderhosen aren't striking the appropriate fear into those suit drivers. We need backup. Powerful backup."

There was a slight breeze as the Paperwork Ninja appeared by his teammates. "Sorry I'm late. There were a bunch of Form 2817-Bs that needed filing. If you'll work with me, I have a plan that will equal the usual silliness of this show and fit well within your genre. Listen closely."

The camera focused in on the partiers as they spent their time pounding on the Rikti soldiers. One Rikti Headman got a lucky shot in on a partygoer and sent him flying into BEERTRUCK's sound system. There was a squawk and silence. Without warning, "The Beer Barrel Polka" began to play.

"Now!" the Paperwork Ninja shouted as he threw the appropriate glassware to the assembled heroes. They stepped to the beer taps in the bar area of BEERTRUCK's expanded flat bed. In unison they each drew a perfect glass of beer among the numerous varieties.

"Pilsner!" Back Yard Boom shouted as raised his glass high.

"Doppelbock!" Fang shouted, raising his stein.

"IPA!" The Paperwork Ninja shouted, raising his glass into the air.

"Lambic!" Agent Munin shouted, wondering what she'd gotten into this time.

"HEART-- er, STOUT!" Heph shouted, raising high his glass of dense black beer.

The strong scent of hops and wort filled the air as the beers swirled in the glasses. The beers shot into the air and coalesced into a golden sphere, which then grew to the size of a man. With a massive red-orange explosion, a golden-skinned man with white hair and a beer stein on his chest.

"When your beers combine, I, DER KRÄUSENER, APPEAR!" the golden-skinned man said. "The Porter Is Yours!"

The five heroes stood there gobsmacked.

"... too much?" Der Kräusener asked.

"YES," the heroes replied. A plasma blast fired over their heads as an assault suit bore down on them.

"By Jackson's Beard!" Der Kräusener said. "This is a bad situation!"

"Destruction: Complete: Beer: Worldwide!" the Rikti raid leader yelled.

"I don't think so!" Der Kräusener said as he fired an amber-brown ray from what looked like a quickly summoned raygun attached to a backpack.

"Proton pack?" Heph asked.

"Electromagnetic Alegun, naturally!" Der Kräusener said with a smile. "Der Kräusener is the defender of all beers of all types. A beer is a beer, no matter how small!"

Heph's mechanical Eyebrow of Disbelief, recently recalibrated from a financial planning seminar involving DJ Cozmic, a wombat chartered accountant and a Jimmy Buffett 8-track, shot up so quickly it again exploded and flew into the air.

"You're paying for that eyebrow. Cash," Heph said.

"Ah, right. But first, the Rikti!" Der Kräusener said. He blasted the closest Rikti Assault Suit with his alegun and watched as in listed to one side and fell over. "That monkey's going to hate life when he wakes up," the golden-skinned hero said.

"You're knocking them out?" Munin asked as she nocked another exploding arrow.

"Well, yes," Der Kräusener said. "It's not polite, otherwise."

"Oh, right," Munin said as she let the arrow fly and cracked open another assault suit. Back Yard Boom used the opening to pull the suit apart, revealing a very startled Rikti monkey.

"Get out," Boom said to the monkey. The monkey looked up at him, then at Munin, then back at the blue-haired cyborg. With an "ook ook" it ran for the nearest portal exit.

The Rikti raid leader watched as his forces were being whittled down by a horde of drunken partiers and some kind of hops-powered superhero. "Strategy: Failing. Disappointment: Building. REMORSE!"

This gave Heph the opportunity to sneak around the raid leader and punch him hard enough in the back of the head to knock him unconscious with one shot. Then again, with multiple tons of force behind Heph's punches, it wasn't difficult to do that.

"The Bavarians will get you if you don't watch out," Heph said.

"Bavarians: Fearsome..." the Rikti leader slurred as he lapsed into unconsciousness. The Rikti troops and equipment began disappearing as soon as their leader was defeated.

"Well, I think we've all learned something today, folks," Der Kräusener said as he floated back down to the ground. "The Rikti are a bunch of beer-hating jerks and working as a team, heroes can accomplish anything!"

"Uh, we knew that already," Munin said.

"Oh. Right," Der Kräusener said.

"No," Heph said. "What we've learned is that it's the differences in our brewing techniques that make us all special!"

"I thought it was that when one is faced with oddity on a daily basis, one should just roll with it," the Paperwork Ninja said.

"Naah, it's that Em looks really cute dressed as an Oktoberfest barmaid," Back Yard Boom said.

"Shush, Tommy," Munin said as she blushed furiously.

"So, it's not that lederhosen provide good ventilation despite their strange looks?" Fang asked.

The camera faded out as the crew discussed what today's lesson was really supposed to be.

Well, some people just can't handle The Beatles.

He's not a chicken, he just got done with a running gun battle through a poultry farm.

I play City of Heroes like an MMO and have fun. I'm sticking with this game until it ends.

I play Champions Online like a giant game of Final Fight and have fun. I'm also sticking with this game until it ends.

Also, there's not enough ERP over there darn it!

Wait. That wasn't my internal monologue... oh dear.

Cyborgs, represent!

I can't wait to see the new Donald Duck MAX series. I hear the Punisher shows up in Issue 1.

Hmph. Stupid work not letting me play CoH during work hours on a work computer...

((Season 3, Episode 10!))

As the opening theme to "Serv'd!" played, Hephaestus 1 and Agent Munin pulled up to The Wizard's Starship, a regular stop for comic book fans such as Fang. As usual, a clerk sat behind the counter looking thoroughly bored.

"Welcome to The Wizard's Starship, where new worlds are just an imagination away," the clerk said in an attempt to sound both sullen and ironic. "Tomorrow is new comics day so you might want to come back tomorrow."

Heph walked over to the clerk, eyeing her up and down. She was pale, modestly-built, and her short hair was a deep black, framing a grimly-cute face with a tiny red diamond adorning her forehead. The cyborg leaned gently on the counter.

"I'm looking for a copy of 'Hai! Frilly Girly Happenstance.' Do you have one?" Heph asked.

The clerk's face went from sullen detachment to sullen disgust mixed with sullen disbelief. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not kidding," Heph said. "One of my friends got hit with a curse from that manga and I'm-"

"Oh, yeah, Fang," the clerk said. "Yeah, I sold him that copy of the manga."

"Well, you sold him a cursed copy that's turned him into a hideous monster," Heph said.

"Yeah, hideously beautiful blue eyes, frighteningly-toned abs, a terrifyingly-grabbable butt that won't quit and... uh... erm, yes, a hiedous monster," Munin said as she snapped out of her reverie.

"Pfft. I did him a favor," the clerk said. "I did the store a favor, too. When the other girls see that a guy like Fang is a comics reader, they'll come in, too."

"That's the most horrible bait-and-switch ever!" Munin said. "You lure them in with Fang and then they wind up seeing... Barry."

I EAT PASTE MAN and his main squeeze Doctor Pantone were sitting at a table in the games section trying to figure out how to turn a game of Blokus into fun-sapping Weapon of Mass Depression. I EAT PASTE MAN waved as he heard his real name called out.

"HI! MY BROTHER BILL WHO- WHO OWNS THE PLACE? YEAH, HE LET ME BACK IN!" I EAT PASTE MAN shouted. "AND- AND- AND NOW I'M TOTALLY HERE WITH MY MAIN SQUEEZE AND WE'RE GONNA PLOT AND SCHEME AND STUFF!"

Doctor Pantone sighed wistfully. "Oh, Barry, you're so amazingly honest for an up-and-coming villain. That's so hot!"

"YEAH, YOU KNOW- YOU KNOW IT," the large beardy git said. "GIMME SOME SUGAR, BABY!"

Munin shuddered. "That's a very cruel thing to do, luring them in with Fang and leaving them with Barry."

The clerk didn't blink. "Well, if they don't want to look at Barry, then they should probably buy a lot of manga."

"Or they could just run away from the store screaming as their sanity leaves them," Heph said.

The clerk shrugged. "It's their choice. Either I get paid or I get entertained."

"Well, breaking young girls' hearts and minds is the job of middle school and high school, not a comics shop," Heph said. "So, I'd like to ask you to break whatever curse you placed on Fang. His girlfriend would appreciate it."

"Oh. No can do, sport," the clerk said. "That curse is my moneymaker. And when did that fuzzy little geek find a girlfriend?"

"It was a few months ago," Heph said. "I take it you're not a fan of reality television. It was all over my show."

"Reality TV is harmful to peoples' souls. It's crude," the clerk said.

Heph twitched.

"It's mass-produced," the clerk continued.

Heph twitched again.

"Only a drooling moron would watch it," the clerk continued further.

Heph's "WTF?" eyebrow raised to its full extension.

"And finally, there's no societal value to it."

Heph sighed. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do," the clerk said with a satisfied smirk.

"Well, you see those two guys there with the camera and recording gear? They're not really technology fetishists, they're my camera and sound guys," Heph said.

"Huh?"

"Smile, you're on reality television," Munin said. "And I think we just blew the lid off of a nefarious attempt to boost sales through malicious sales practices. You know what that makes us?"

"Big damn heroes, Heph?" Munin asked.

"Well, yeah, but also it makes us valuable to society," Heph said.

Munin smiled. "Shiny."

"Okay, look," the clerk said, "If I break Fang's curse, bad things will happen to me. For one, I won't be the hot gloomy chick that all the jocks secretly want to be with, I'll just be my old self. For another, I won't be able to hide here anymore and my scary older sister will find me."

"You can't miss her. She's tall, blonde, successful, stacked... and she went with an Electrical Engineering degree when I went with a Comparative Lit degree," the clerk complained. "Mom always liked her best."

"Wait," Munin said. "Your sister is Ilse von Wulfenschtuppen?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ilse von Wulfenschtuppen, She-Wolf of IT, blah blah blah I'm soooo jealous blah blah blah," the clerk said by rote. "I heard it all the time."

"So you'd be... Heidi von Wulfenschtuppen?" Heph asked.

"Yes," the clerk said glumly.

"And you want to get back at your sister?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Break the curse. Fang is her boyfriend."

The clerk's look of disbelief and disgust appeared again. "You're kidding."

"Yeah, it turns out she really likes the new Fang," Heph said. "I mean, reeeally likes him, in that bow-chicka-bow-bow kind of way."

The clerk turned around for a second and there was a flash of electricity. She turned back around, still pretty much the same.

Heph shrugged. "I thought you said the curse made you the hot gloomy chick that all the jocks secretly wanted to be with?"

"Yeah, now it makes me the hot gloomy chick that all the band geeks publicly want to be with," the clerk said as a shirtless marching band paraded past them led by a "Hot 4 Heidi" banner. "And Heidi loves her some band geeks. Rawr," she said sullenly.

Heph's "WTF?" eyebrow popped up again.

"I now know too much about the Nemesis Army," Munin said.

Heph walked out to the team's SUV and hooked up to a printer. In a few seconds a summons for the Rhode Island Small Claims Court appeared. Heph walked back in a dropped the form on the counter.

"There's your summons to the Small Claims court. You'll be talking to a lot of high school girls who are scarred for life, or until the next Twilight movie comes out, whichever is first."

"And my sister will find out about this, too," the dark-haired girl complained.

Heph nodded. "Yep. It's only going to get weirder from here on out, young lady, but that's what happens when you try to make a dishonest buck."

"Oh, and you don't exploit your viewers with over-commercialized dreck?" the clerk shot back.

"No. I don't force anyone to watch under the threat of Barry," Heph said.

"YAY THEY SAID MY NAME AGAIN!" came a loud shout from the back of the comics shop.

"I give them options to watch, options to buy, and do a damn good job of convincing them why they should keep watching and buying my sponsors' stuff. It's also good quality stuff, even if the commercials usually end with a clown bursting into flame."

"Honk! It's an allergic reaction, I swear!" said a voice from the far stacks of the back issues boxes.

"Okay, there is too much coincidence in too small a space," Heph said. "Let's go back to the office before something weird happens."

"Like spontaneously appearing shirtless marching bands?" Munin asked.

"Yes."

The team headed back to the office, where their newest office assistant was speaking with the Cobalt Claymore.

"So that's a way to keep the name stamps level with the lines on the form?" the Cobalt Claymore asked the office worker.

"Yes," the shorter man said. "It takes practice and dedication, though."

"Too late," Heph said to Munin as they entered through the door. "CC's able to be in two places at once. The weird has followed us."

"We're not the same person," the office worker and the Cobalt Claymore said in unison.

"He's a broadsword-swinging swashbuckler who stalks the night," the office worker said.

"He's an office worker who is a master of the Triplicate Form Style of ninjutsu," the Cobalt Claymore said.

The hero and the office worker looked at each other.

"THEY FIGHT CRIME!" they said in unison again.

The last shot of Heph and Munin and the recording crew shaking their heads faded to credits.

Yep. It's like the Thousand Flowers Movement, just with more internet radio and less violent repression.

I had not heard of this...

Five bucks says that baby's first word is "Bah."

[ QUOTE ]
Ascendant and Ghost Widow once attended a wedding together, so, technically speaking, they sort of dated.


Kinda.

[/ QUOTE ]

It's so nice to see one of Back Yard Boom's plans work out...

Then there's this. Now where are we going to get Barthburgers?

Huh. Billy Mays died on my birthday. I didn't want the guy dead, I just wanted his commercials to not be ten times as loud as the regular tv program.

Gale Storm died? I loved watching reruns of "My Little Margie" when I was in grade school. Of course it was on at 12:30am, but hey it was summer or Friday night. It followed George Burns & Gracie Allen, Jack Benny, and "I Married Joan."