Where in the World is Professor Xavier?

I stepped away from the podium and looked around. It seemed like everywhere I turned, there was a microphone pointed at me or someone in a fedora barking a question. I couldn’t answer them now. Something’s not right here, I can feel it.

Professor Xavier didn’t even show up to the press conference that he set up. It’s possible that he’s busy with my campaign or attending to business at his school, but it didn’t seem likely to me. On top of that, if he was too busy to be here, I’m sure I would still feel his mental presence, something that I can’t detect right now. Without anything else to do, I dialed up his school to see if he was actually there or if they knew where he was.

“Xavier’s School for Higher Learning, Cyclops, er Professor Summers speaking,” came the answer.

“Cyclops, good to hear from you,” I said. “It’s Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. I’m here at Liberty Island and Professor Xavier doesn’t seem to be around. Is he there?”

“Oh my gosh, he is,” he replied. “But you’re not going to believe this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Professor Xavier’s brain is missing!” Cyclops replied dramatically.

“Missing? You mean like he’s gone or something?”

Cyclops explained “No, the Professor is here, right in his study, but his brain is gone. It’s been, like, cut out of his head.”

“Holy cow!” I exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” he asserted. “I was there with him and I was talking to him about my issues with Jean Grey and Emma Frost and Madeline Pryor and he was just sitting there saying nothing, so I started talking about how I loved Jean so much but then how I kissed Audrey Hanson and—”

“Wait, do you mean Agent Audrey Hanson?” I interrupted.

“Yeah, her,” Cyclops answered.

“Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI?”

“Yeah her,” he said. “We were on that game show Sylar’s Bachelor together and then we kissed.”

“OK, I don’t think I needed to hear that,” I said.

“With tongue,” the mutant clarified.

“I’m sure I didn’t need to hear that,” I added.

“But then I heard that she slipped me a Mikey.”

“You mean a Mickey,” I corrected.

“Who’s Mickey?” he asked.

“Never mind that, what about the Professor?”

“No wait, how do you know Agent Hanson?” he asked.

“Yeah her,” I said. “Small world, huh? She was assigned to protect me just a little while ago, but then she got called away to help out on a Die Hard Scenario.”

“Oh yeah, Die Hard, I love that movie,” said the man who must always wear ruby quartz eyewear to stop his uncontrollable optic blasts. “Yippee ki yay, mother, uh…”

“Right, well thank you for helping me out with that dangling plot thread there,” I said. “But what about the Professor?”

“Oh yeah, I can’t stand dangling threads,” he replied. “If I have one on my uniform, sometimes I burn it off with a lighter. But don’t tell Jean that I have a lighter, OK?”

“OK, OK,” I sighed. “The Professor. What happened to Professor Xavier’s brain? You said it’s gone.”

“Oh yeah right, so I was talking to the Professor you know, relationship stuff,” he explained. “And then I notice that there’s a little dab of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth and then that’s when I looked closer and saw that his head was cut open. His body’s here, but his brain’s gone, Jon.”

“How long did it take you to figure this out about his brain?”

“I don’t know, ten or fifteen minutes, I guess.” I could almost see him shrugging with the reply.

“Well, does he usually just sit there quietly for fifteen minutes while you talk about your relationship problems?” I asked.

“Well sure,” he replied. “Sometimes longer I think.”

“And he doesn’t yell at you to shut up or anything?” I also asked.

“Well no, but I think sometimes he mentally sends me away,” he said. “Like sometimes I just wake up back in my room or something and I wonder how I got there. Wait a minute, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Madeline Pryor, and Psycloche all have mental powers. I dated all of them. Are they a surrogate for my relationship with the Professor?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I answered. “I only took like three credits worth of psychology in college.”

I heard a heavy exhale over the phone. “Does that mean that I actually want to date Professor Xavier?”

“Honestly Cyclops? I don’t know,” I replied. “I have to tell you, the more you’re talking about it, the more it’s turning my stomach right now.”

“I love Professor Xavier,” Cyclops announced. “There I said it. Wow, I feel so much better now.”

I screamed in my head mentally. I almost pounded my head against the wall, but I didn’t think the wonderful caretakers of this area want to clean up bloodstains off their nice building.

“I don’t want to hear this,” I said slowly and carefully to him.

“Well, I don’t mean love as in the way a man loves a woman,” Cyclops said. “It’s like a platonic love. Wait a minute, if all the women that I’ve dated are surrogates of the Professor, maybe the Professor’s a surrogate of the father I never had because my dad flew off into outer space to become a space pirate. Wow, it’s mind boggling.”

“You aren’t kidding,” I exhaled. “OK, I’ve gotta go. I mean I’ve really gotta go, if I listen to any more of this I might just, I don’t know what I’d do. I just gotta go. I’ll start looking for clues, keep me updated if you hear anything.”

“OK, I will Jon,” Cyclops agreed. “This is Cyclops over and out.”

The line went silent as he hung up the phone on his end.

Great, on top of everything else going on around here, I’m probably going to have to find Professor Xavier’s brain now, too.

The Cobra Airship Blewed Up!

“Wow, that was a close one,” Agent Hanson sighed as we moved away from the exploding remains of the Cobra Airship.

“Yeah, too close,” I agreed. “I don’t ever want to be on some giant terrorist airship when it’s blowing up and crashing into the desert ever again. Gotta admit, it was pretty exciting while it lasted, though.”

“You know Jon, I said a few things back there that maybe I shouldn’t have,” the FBI agent admitted.

“Aw don’t worry about it,” I dismissed it with a wave. “It was pretty intense up there. I didn’t think we were going to make it myself.”

“I’m serious. It’s hard to find someone who doesn’t crack under pressure like that,” she jammed her thumb back towards the giant fireball. “It’s especially hard to find someone who seems dedicated to doing the right thing like you are.”

“Aw go on,” I answered sheepishly.

“No really,” she insisted. “You’re not an incompetent idiot who’s going to get us killed. That stunt you pulled off up there was… I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m glad we’re OK. Hey look who’s decided to join the party.”

Fighter planes raced past overhead as a helicopter with twin rotors came in for a landing near us. After it hit the dirt, half a dozen soldiers hopped out, one of whom strode right over towards us.

“I’m General Hawk, leader of the G.I.Joe team,” he said. “You want to tell me who’s responsible for this mess?”

“Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI, Sir!” Hanson stood at attention in front of the officer. “Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator and I are responsible for bringing down the Cobra Airship, sir.”

“Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator?” Hawk reached his hand towards mine. “I thought I recognized you. Good job you two, by taking down that thing; you stopped Cobra Commander’s plans and crippled a major portion of his forces.”

“Yeah about that,” I said. “I’m glad to help and all, but Cobra Commander did say that he was going to hunt me down for it.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Cobra Commander,” Hawk replied. “Joe satellites have tracked him down. He’s in a giant castle with snakes all over it in the Andes Mountains. We’ll catch that snake this time.”

“Good luck with that,” I replied just as my Wristcomm started pinging. “Excuse me. This is Jon.”

“Jon this is Professor Xavier,” the voice on the other end said. “I’ve captured Mystique and uncovered who hired her to impersonate Emma Frost. It was the Henchman.”

“Henchman of Local 432? You’ve got to be kidding,” I replied. “How’s he mixed up in this?”

“Well when evil’s afoot, the Henchman is usually underfoot,” the Professor replied.

“Hah, I know what you’re saying,” I replied.

“On another note, and this pains me to say this,” he paused for a moment. “It appears that you are going to have to make that announcement after all.”

“I was afraid that was going to happen,” I answered.

“Will you be able to make it if I call a press conference tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Very well, the conference will be in New York on Liberty Island,” the Professor replied. “I find that will be a good, patriotic place for it.”

“Alright,” I replied unenthusiastically. “I’ll be there.”

“Ssstop shooting the consolesss you fool!” Cobra Commander yelled over the comm screen. “Sstop him, Cobraaaa!”

One of the Cobras at his post begrudgingly stepped up to stop me and got shot in the knee courtesy of Agent Hanson. He fell to the ground next to Colonel Scar.

“Don’t anybody else try it,” she warned.

“You’ll pay for this!” the Commander threatened. “I’ve got lawyers – the best that money can buy.”

“Lawyers don’t scare me,” I shrugged and then shot another console. “I don’t have any money.”

“Oh oh, Jon,” Hanson called to me. “What do we have here?”

“What is it?” I ran over to where she was beckoning. “It’s a self destruct button! Oh Joy!”

“Sssstay away from that thing!” the terrorist leader hissed.

“Don’t you touch that!” Colonel Scar added.

“But listen. Can you hear it call to me?” I wrapped my arms around the console the button was attached to. “I cannot resist its siren spell.”

“No Jon, don’t do it!” Hanson egged me on in a mock horrified tone.

“How long can Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator resist pushing the self destruct button?” I called out in an announcer’s voice. “The beautiful, shiny button? The jolly, candy-like button? We he hold out folks? Can he hold out?”

“If you touch that button, I will bring an entire global terrorist organization down on top of you!” Cobra Commander threatened. “You will not be able to move a muscle without my minions there to kill you. Stop one of them and three will take his place!”

I pushed the red button. “Oops, I dood it.”

“Oh now you did it,” Hanson added.

The PA system called out a self destruct warning in a calm woman’s voice. In a panic, Cobra troopers shot out of their seats and out the door.

“I love these self destruct warning voices,” I sighed. “They always have these sexy voices. I wanna know who has the job of recording these.”

“Oh I’ve met her,” Hanson replied. “She’s got a nice gig.”

“Ahhhhhhh!” the Commander screamed. “I can’t believe you--!”

His image exploded as a blaster bolt from Betsy blew up the screen.

“I don’t see why you didn’t do that a half hour ago,” Hanson noted.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m gluten for punishment.”

“So how are you going to get us out of here?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve been working on that,” I held up my finger in reply.

Trapped on the Cobra Airship -- like a fox!

“Well if you were looking to get the attention of Cobra’s leader, I think you’ve met your goal,” Agent Hanson said. “What are you going to do now?”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it,” I said. I then turned to Colonel Scar, still on the deck clutching his shoulder. “Give me your coat.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“I said give me your coat,” I repeated. “You’re being defrocked.”

Scar stared at me coldly but didn’t move.

“You see, defrocking is a way of saying that someone is being relieved of his or her duty, but a frock is also a coat,” I explained. “It’s like a dual meaning. “

“I get it,” he replied. “I just don’t think it’s very funny.”

With a sigh of exasperation, I tore his coat off and kicked him back to the deck again. I then put the coat on and brushed the upper arms.

“It’s a little snug,” I said. “But it’ll do. Please put Cobra Commander up on the screen.”

“Colonel Scar jussst what do you think you’re…” Cobra Commander’s image paused for a second. “Who are you?”

“I’m Colonel Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator and this airship is now under my command,” I answered. “Colonel Scar has been defrocked.”

“He’sss what?” the Commander demanded.

“Defrocked,” I repeated. “Get it? Not only did I relieve him of his command, but I took his coat as well.”

“I get the joke, I just don’t think it’s funny!” he yelled back. “I want that airship back. I paid a lot of good money for that thing and I don’t want you destroying it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of it, ooops,” I spilled a technician’s glass of water on his keyboard. Sparks and flew from between the keys as acrid smoke wafted up. “I’m still a little upset that you hired Zartan to kill me and take my place on my presidential campaign.”

“What? That’ssss ridiculousssss!” the terrorist leader hissed back. “That’ss really not my sstyle. I did no such thing, really.”

“And yet that’s what he tried,” I answered.

“Oh well, of course I have Zartan on retainer, but I can’t account for all of his activitiessss,” he shrugged. “He must have taken the job from sssomeone elsssse.”

“What do you think?” I turned to Hanson. “Think he’s being honest?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It seems like it but it’s not like I have some super power to read heat signatures to tell if someone’s lying or telling the truth.”

“Oh man, that would be a great power,” I said. “All I can do is bark like a dog. Listen to this: Arf arf arf!”

“Hey that does sound like a dog!” she exclaimed. “Can you do a bigger dog?”

“Woof woof woof.”

“That’s good, too,” she laughed. “Very impressive.”

“Yeah, now you see why this guy’s taken,” I said as I licked my fingertips and ran them through my eyebrows.

“Clearly your mate isss one lucky woman,” Cobra Commander said over the comm screen. “But can we get back to the businessss at hand? I want my airship back.”

“Cobra Commander, I am impounding this airship in the name of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Hanson announced. “You are hereby charged with conducting terrorist activities on US soil, defiling federal lands, and violating US airspace. Please surrender to the nearest FBI office for processing.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied haughtily. “You may have control of that one room, but there is a hundred Cobras on that ship. Do you think you can arrest them all?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “I hear they Cobras are pretty bad shots.”

“Argh! Shut up you fool!”

“Hit a little too close to home?” Hanson smirked.

“Their ability to hit the target notwithstanding,” Cobra Commander composed himself. “I sstill do not think you’ll be able to fight them all off.”

“Well we’ll just have to give it a try then, huh?” I answered.

“Attention Cobra,” the Commander announced over the ship’s PA system. “An extra 500 gold Cobra Coins to the Viper who destroys those two. Cobraaaaaa!”

“Oh man, we can’t fight through them all,” I conceded.

“That’sss more like it,” he replied with a hiss. “Surrender and you may live.”

“Nope,” I shook my head. “I’ll just do this instead.”

I pulled out Betsy and shot a console.

“You fool! What are you doing?” Cobra Commander yelled.

I answered by shooting another control panel.

Inside the Cobra Airship

Colonel Scar laughed maniacally as his airship soared into the air. Scar really didn’t seem like the type to laugh maniacally at things, and yet there he was laughing as maniacally as you could imagine someone would.

“Ha ha! It’ll never get off the ground, they said,” he announced with mockery heavy on his voice. “Colonel Scar, it will never fly what with the cost overruns and the issues with the contractors. Well I sure showed them, didn’t I?”

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Scar glared at the nearest trooper.

“Uh, yeah, you sure showed them, sir,” the trooper quickly responded.

“If you destroyed Mount Rushmore, God help you I’ll—” Agent Hanson warned with a growl.

I stumbled to a porthole as the giant airborne behemoth shifted and shuddered and I looked out towards the earth below. “Looks like Rushmore’s OK. We’re flying over it now.”

“Consider yourself lucky for that,” the FBI agent announced to the Cobra officer with a pointer finger.

“Yeah, destroying a monument like that would just be wrong,” I added. “And evil.”

“Well I am evil,” he insisted. “I don’t know what kind of a villain would think of something like that though. That’s just so wrong on so many levels.”

“Good, because that’s way not cool,” I added.

“Enough about Rushmore!” Scar yelled. “This Cobra airship in now heading on a course southwest where we will attack Area 52.”

“Area 52?” I asked. “Isn’t that supposed to be Area 51?”

“Oho, that’s what they want you to think,” Scar cackled. “Tell him, FBI Agent Hanson.”

“Ixnay on the Area-ay Fifty Oo-tay,” Hanson grumbled.

“That’s right,” the Cobra leader sneered. “They want you to think about Area 51, that way you don’t think about what’s going on in Area 52.”

“So what’s going on in Area 52?” I asked.

“Alien stealth technology,” he answered quietly and evilly. “With the alien stealth technology, Cobra will destroy G.I.Joe and conquer the world!”

“Alien stealth technology? that’s ridiculous,” I laughed. “Hey, beam me up, Scotty! Aliens, pfft.”

“Shut up, Jon,” Hanson growled under her breath.

“You’ll be wise to watch what you’re saying,” Scar warned. “You’ll see this alien technology soon enough.”

“No, see I already talked to King Ming from Planet Nine from Outer Space and he says he doesn’t want to come to Earth. He doesn’t like the smell of some of the inhabitants. Namely jackbooted Cobra officers in giant flying deathtraps.”

“Very nice, but I see what you’re doing,” Colonel Scar answered. “You’re trying to get me all riled up so I make a mistake. Consider your attempt failed.”

“If that’s what you think,” I shrugged. “Your plan in this thing won’t work anyway.”

Scar glared at me. “What do you mean it won’t work?”

“Oh come on, everyone in this room already knows the outcome of this scenario. Either the Joes will shoot it out of the sky with their jet fighters or someone’ll stick a time bomb on the side and blow it up or someone will sneak onboard and bring it down from within. It happens every time.”

“Really? Well it won’t happen this time,” the enemy officer blustered. “Will it?”

Some of the Cobra troops shuffled in their seats uncomfortably.

“Such a big weapon is just a big target you know,” Hanson added. “What’s with you villains and your big super weapons anyway?”

“Yeah,” I added. “What’s up wit’ dat?”

“I know what it is,” Hanson answered. “He’s overcompensating.”

“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying,” I laughed.

“Silence!” Scar bellowed. “I will show you who’s overcompensating for what.”

Suddenly, the normal noise of the operations center of the Cobra airship and Colonel Scar’s ranting was interrupted by the noise of a pistol firing. I whipped around to see Agent Hanson with the smoking weapon in hand, smirking just a little.

“Freeze, FBI!” she commanded.

“Ah! You shot me!” Scar wailed as he clutched his arm in pain and stumbled backwards to the deck.

“Hey Schultzie!” I called out to the troop holding my Wristcomm. He looked and I kicked him in the face for his effort. I quickly scooped my weapon up and strapped it to my arm. By this time, two Vipers were aiming their weapons at me, but were quickly dispatched by Hanson as well.

“Don’t anybody else try anything,” the agent ordered. “Keep your hands and faces on your control panels. Anyone who tries anything will gets this.”

“Where’d you hide that thing?” I asked.

“Don’t ask,” she replied. “So now what?”

“I don’t know,” I said as I shot the control panel to the door with Winona. “Lemme think for a minute.”

“Uh…” a Cobra trooper at his communications station looked towards us.

“What?” Hanson growled as she swung her pistol at him.

“Uh, Cobra Commander is calling. He demands to speak to Colonel Scar.”

Hanson looked at me. “Looks like we don’t have a minute.”

From the Nose of a Statue to the Mouth of a Snake!

Agent Hanson and I were crawling through an airshaft, the entrance of which is located on Lincoln’s nose on Mount Rushmore. We weren’t sure exactly where it was taking us, but we were certain it would be trouble.

“Airshaft’s kind of long,” I huffed as I low crawled through it. “You’re lucky you can fit through more easily.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back quickly.

“I just mean you’re a little smaller than me,” I replied. “And you can fit through a tight space like an airshaft better than I can.”

“Don’t you start crap with me,” she growled. “Nothing I’ve ever done had been easier, don’t think this is too.”

“Whoa whoa, I’m not saying you’ve got it easy or anything,” I replied (hopefully) disarmingly. “I’m just talking is all.”

“Well maybe you should only say something if you think it’s necessary.”

“Fine, I gotcha,” I said. “I’ll only say something if I think it’s absolutely, positively, 100 percent, A number 1, super important you gotta know it necessary. I know some people who will just talk and talk, they babble and babble and babble on and on and on about the dumbest stuff ever. Not me though, I only say stuff when I know it’s important. I’m like the strong, silent type. Like John Wayne, only I think he was taller.”

“Would you shut! Up!” she yelled.

Suddenly, there was a creak, a groan and we plummeted through the thin metal and onto the cold floor below.

“Well that was fun,” I said as I picked myself up and dusted off my arms and hands.

Hanson and I were interrupted by about a dozen clicking noises. You know that clicking when a cartridge is being slammed into the bolt of an automatic rifle? Yeah, clicking like that. I looked around and realized that we were smack dab in the middle of a snake den.

“Hi, I’m Joe Krackow from Krackow Heating and Air Conditioning,” I said. “We were, uh, just inspecting your system here and—”

“FBI, don’t move, you’re all under arrest!” Agent Hanson shouted as she drew her pistol.

Instantly, the rifles trained on her.

“I don’t think we got the drop on ‘em,” I said as I raised my hands and stole a glance at the hole in the ceiling.

“Take their weapons,” an officer commanded.

Hanson glowered angrily as she surrendered her sidearm. One of the troopers grabbed Betsy and Winona from their holsters.

“Nice rayguns, spaceman,” he laughed as he twirled them around on his fingers.

“Shut up,” I replied.

“I wouldn’t get too mouthy,” he warned as he pressed one of the pistols against my cheek. “Unless you’re looking for another hole in your head.”

“Ooh, what’s this?” the officer said as he looked at my Wirstcomm.

“Oh that? It’s just a microwave oven,” I answered. “It’s harmless, really. I sure do love my Hot Pockets.”

“And do most microwave ovens have harpoon guns attached to them?” the officer sneered at me. At least it seemed kind of like a sneer, he was wearing a mask over his mouth. “Give me that.”

He unhooked it from my arm and tore it away. Inspecting it more closely, he looked it over, finally deciding to try one of the buttons. He was rewarded for his effort with a powerful shock that knocked him to the floor.

“Sorry,” I shrugged. “It’s got an antitheft system on it.”

“Pick that thing up!” the officer ordered one of his troops as he picked himself up. The troop complied and carefully picked it up, holding it with his thumb and forefinger by a strap. “Take these two to Colonel Scar now.”

We were herded into a command center where a jackbooted officer stood over a row of technicians at their stations.

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked as he looked at the two of us.

“We caught them snooping around, Colonel,” the officer said, still rubbing his hand from the shock.

“And who might you two be, eh?” Colonel Scar’s eyebrow lifted just a bit.

“Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI,” Hanson announced.

“Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, uh, Intergalactic Gladiator,” I added. “I have to tell you, that’s pretty amazing how your name is Scar and you have a scar. How’d your parents know that was gonna happen? That’s like Lou Gehrig getting Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Seriously, what are the chances of that?”

“Silence!” The Cobra colonel barked. “I will show you what we do to spies like you. Were they alone?”

“As far as we can tell,” the officer acknowledged. “We still haven’t heard back from one of the outside guards though.”

“I don’t think you’re going to hear from him,” Hanson answered. “He took a long trip off a short cliff.”

“Now who’s making the yucks?” I asked. “Though I would’ve attempted to phrase that differently. He might infer that it wasn’t as long of a fall as it actually was.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to consult with you before I make one of these lines,” the FBI agent shot back sarcastically.

“I said silence!” Colonel Scar roared. “I know why you’re here.”

“’Cuz you have donuts on Tuesdays?” I asked.

“Good one,” Hanson laughed. “I would’ve gone with bagels, but I think donuts are more universally funny.”

“That’s what I was going for.”

“I said silence!” Scar’s face flushed with anger. “I know why you’re here. You think this is just a little outpost with a couple troops, maybe you get yourselves a nice easy bust.”

Hanson and I looked at each other quizzically.

“Well you’ll be surprised to learn that this is actually a fully armed and operational airship!” Scar grinned evilly.

“Where have I heard that before?” Hanson rolled her eyes.

The Cobra officer grabbed a microphone sticking out of a console. “Prepare airship for launch!”

The floor beneath us rumbled as we felt it pitch. We endeavored to keep our balance as we felt ourselves being propelled into the air.

Trouble on Rushmore

I was dangling precariously from the side of the mountain with Agent Hanson clutching for dear life to my right hand. An unknown assailant was grinning evilly as he stood over me – stood on my other hand as a matter of fact.

“I’ve just got one thing left to say to you,” he said.

“I’m on Candid Camera?” I asked hopefully.

“All!” He gave my hand a good stomp.

“Hail!” He gave it another.

“Mighty!” He stomped on my hand once again.

“Cobra----?” I caught his last stomp with my right hand.

“I’ve got one last thing to say to you,” I said. “Watch your step.”

I gave his leg a good tug and he tumbled over the ledge, past Hanson who had by that time gained a foothold and was clutching the side of the mountain. We worked ourselves up to the ledge and took a moment to catch our breath.

“That was not fun,” Hanson shook her head. “Remind me to never do this again with you. Ever.”

“Like I said, you gotta watch your step.”

“Heh, yeah,” she replied.

“It’s a real doozy,” I added.

“Uh huh.”

“Though I hope he had a nice trip,” I joked.

“Funny.”

“Pride goeth before a fall.”

“Yeah… right…”

“I wonder if he likes the song I’ll Tumble 4 ya.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you just said that,” Hanson groaned.

“We sure made him the fall guy, huh?” I chuckled.

“Will you shut up already?” Hanson yelled.

“OK OK,” I acquiesced.

“Now what?” she asked.

“I guess we look around for anything unusual,” I shrugged. “We should keep our eyes open for any more guards as well.”

Carefully, we looked around the area. I couldn’t find anything but Hanson did.

“Over here,” she called out to me.

“What is it?” I asked as I trotted over to where she was standing under the giant stone visage of Abraham Lincoln.

“Can you feel this?” she asked.

“Wind.”

“Guess the secret base needs fresh air, huh?” she grinned as she indicated to Lincoln’s nose. “It’s coming out of here.”

“Well go ahead and pick,” I replied.

“What?”

“Pick which nostril. We’re going in.”

“Ew,” she grimaced.

“Aw come on,” I said. “It’s granite. It’s not like we’re going into a real giant nose.”

“Alright,” she said back. “You want to go first, or shall I?”

Climbing Rushmore

Agent Hanson and I surreptitiously made our way up Mount Rushmore, being careful in our attempt to go unnoticed.

“I don’t know,” Hanson huffed as she clutched the side of the rock. “Do you really think that some evil paramilitary terrorist force has got a hideout right here in one of America’s greatest landmarks?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. I’d imagine it works great because who’d suspect that anyone would have a base here?”

“I suppose,” she conceded. “Still, it would take a lot of time and manpower to do something like that. You couldn’t just throw it up overnight.”

“Yeah. Maybe this is just another relay or just a small outpost or something,” I guessed.

“We better keep it moving, it’s getting dark,” the agent advised.

“We would have gotten up here a lot quicker if you didn’t have to stop and change your pantsuit,” I replied to her.

“Can’t help it, this is my rock climbing pantsuit.”

“Do you have a pantsuit for every occasion?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Hold it right there you two!” A voice from above us shouted.

We looked up at the man staring down at us.

“Agent Audrey Hanson, FBI,” she instantly attempted to take control of the situation. “Identify yourself.”

“I am the man who is about to make you two very dead,” he countered as he reached inside his coat.

“He’s got a gun!” Hanson exclaimed.

He pulled out what appeared to be an odd looking laser weapon. “Don’t worry, this will all be over in a second.”

I quickly fired a harpoon from my Wristcomm and his gun flew out of his hands and clattered down the slope of the mountain.

“I don’t need that to stop you two meddlers anyway,” he growled as he kicked Hanson in the forehead. She screamed uncharacteristically as she began to tumble off the cliff herself. I quickly reached out and snagged her arm.

“I’ve got you,” I winced as her weight jerked my arm.

“Not for long,” the man chuckled as he stepped on my finger.

Rushmore

“Well well, look where our trail has led us.”

“Mount Rushmore,” Agent Hanson blew out her breath. “Are you telling me that some terrorist cell has a hidden base stashed away in one of America’s greatest monuments?”

“Looks like it,” I shrugged.

“OK, that’s it then,” she said. “We now know where they are. I’m calling in reinforcements and then we’re getting out of here.”

“What? We’re just walking away?”

“Hey, I’m following orders, pal,” she growled back. “My orders are to keep you safe, remember? You think I want to miss the action?”

“We’ve gone this far,” I said. “Let’s just check it out. We can recon the area for when your reinforcements get here.”

“I don’t know,” she answered with a dash of skepticism. “If there are terrorists, they’ll likely be well armed and have guards posted.”

“I keep telling you I can take care of myself,” I replied. “I am an intergalactic gladiator, after all.”

“That means nothing to me,” she shook her head.

“OK, well I was in the Army,” I continued. “I had a green beret.”

“You’re saying you were a Green Beret?” she asked with even more skepticism.

“I didn’t say I was a Green Beret, I said I wore a green beret.”

“You wore a green beret?” she snorted. “To tea parties or something?”

“Funny.” I dropped a quarter into the binoculars and took a look at the monument. I didn’t see much but rock and the carved visages of four presidents. “Quite a sight.”

“You’re telling me,” a man sitting on the bench replied. “I love to come here and just read the paper under the protective gaze of George Washington.”

“You come here often?” I asked.

“Almost every day,” the man replied. “Like I said, I love to read the paper here. Something about the light being better and the air being fresher. God bless America.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” I answered affably. “You ever see anything funny going on up there?”

“Funny as in strange or funny as in ha ha?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Maybe someone up there who shouldn’t be or an unusual truck or plane or something.”

“Come to think of it,” the man scratched the side of his head as he tried to recall. “I think there was something odd up there the other day. Couple hunters got caught by the park rangers. Funny thing was, the hunters didn’t have hunting rifles. They had military weapons.”

“Really?” I answered. “I can’t imagine why a hunter would be hunting in a national park with military weapons like that.”

“Probably just a couple of crazy kids,” the man said. “Probably all hopped up on the drugs or something.”

“Well, my partner and I have to get going,” I replied. “Thanks so much for your help.”

“Sure thing, sonny,” he smiled pleasantly. “You two take care now.”

“Are you just going alert everyone that we’re here while you’re at it?” Hanson whispered to me as we walked away. “Good thing you’re an intergalactic gladiator, undercover work doesn’t seem to be your forte.”

“What that old guy?” I replied in a whisper. “Look at him just sit there and read the paper. He’s harmless. Now let’s get up there on the mountain and check it out.”

Reluctantly, Agent Hanson agreed, so we made our way through the visitor center and out into the woods and ducked out of sight from the rest of the tourists. Meanwhile, the older gentleman clicked a hidden switch in his watch.

“You got two,” he said into the watch. “A man and a woman. The woman looks like a federal agent but I don’t know about the man. He looks like he’s all hopped up on the drugs or something. Roger. Roger. Out.”

Intergalactic Update and iDoodle

A great big good morning to all my Junior Intergalactic Gladiators out there. I've got a few things going on, so here's the scoop.


My ersatz bodyguard Agent Audrey Hanson is in the middle of her Sylar hunt over at the Burnt Toast Diner. Head on over there and cheer her on.


Also, our newest Junior Intergalactic Gladiator Ookami Snow is holding a contest to see what his favorite blog of 2008 is and guess who's in it. Come on, guess. Just guess already! You're right, it's me! It's double elimination and I just got beaten by some nude guy in Memphis, so I can't let that happen again! Head on over there and cheer me on.


Finally, I had so much fun doodling earlier that I want to do it again. First person to comment with a doodle idea gets the doodle idea doodled.


Update: The always charming Freida Bee asked to see me getting beaten up by a nude Memphis guy. Note the Tennessee Top Hat hairstyle and red neck. And yes I know I'm making a stereotypical characterization of a Tennessean, but what's art if it doesn't make you think?

FBI eyes are watching you

“Well thanks for the assist,” I said as I brushed the dust off my clothes.

“Assist? I just saved your butt, pal,” Agent Hanson snapped back. “That plane was about to turn you into Swiss cheese.”

“No seriously, I was OK. But thanks for your help.” I said as I pulled out my blasters. “Agent Hanson meet Winona and Betsy. Winona and Betsy, meet Agent Hanson.”

“Nice ray guns there, Flash Gordon.”

“They’re actually blasters,” I corrected. “When you say ray gun, it sounds like a cheap 50’s movie. You know, with rubber Martians and spaceships that look like they’re made out of pie plates and stuff.”

“Fine, so you’ve got a couple blasters,” she replied. “Do they actually work or are you as crazy as you sound?”

“Kids, don’t try this at home,” I cautioned. I then turned and fired at a convenient rock and it exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Nice,” she whistled. “I could use one of those.”

“Sorry, not for sale,” I shrugged as I holstered my pistols.

“Too bad,” she shook her head. “I’m going to have to ask you to surrender them anyway. I have to take you in.”

“Is shooting rocks against the law?” I asked nonchalantly.

“You’re not under arrest,” she insisted. “I’m bringing you in for your own good. The FBI isn’t too keen on presidential candidates falling out of buildings or getting themselves shot up by WWI fighter planes.”

“So I’m not under arrest but you’re taking me in for my own good?” I asked. “Wow, just like a fascist state.”

“Don’t get the white suburban punk in you all in an uproar,” Agent Hanson replied. “Presidential candidates need protection, you know. Even the goofball ones like you.”

“Goofball?” I repeated. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“OK, I’ll go with you,” I answered. “Just let me do this one thing. I was tracking a signal that ended at these crossroads, but I don’t see a receiver or anything. Let me just figure out what I’m looking for and then we’ll go.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Go ahead.”

Using the communications equipment on the Danger Sled and my Wristcomm, I zeroed in on a sign just 50 yards or so from the crossroads.

“It’s got be here.” I started pushing soil away under the sign. “This dirt’s pretty loose. Bingo!”

“Bingo?” Hanson asked. “What is it?”

“A game of chance where players try to fill numbered cards in order to win,” I replied. “But look what I found here.”

I pulled a small radio device out of the ground. A coaxial cable snaked underneath deeper into the dirt.

“Someone just buried a radio here?” she asked.

“Looks like it,” I answered. “I’d guess that the coax leads to their secret base or bunker or whatever they’re in. They must’ve ran the line out to so they wouldn’t compromise the base’s location with their transmissions and used the sign as a marker.”

“That’s smart, I guess,” Hanson shrugged. “So where’s the base, then?”

“See, that’s the thing,” I held up my finger. “Their signal’s not broadcasting over the cable like it would from an antenna, but it’s still there. We can still trace it to its source.”

“And where would that be?” the agent asked.

“I guess we’ll find out,” I answered.

Dirt Road Intersection to the Danger Zone

I set the Danger Sled down about 200 yards from the crossroads and trotted the distance to check out the area personally.

My mouth dried quickly in the dusty wind as I made it to the intersection. I looked around and kind of shrugged to myself, it’s a fracking dirt intersection. There isn’t anything here for miles.

As I reconnoitered the area, I heard a faint buzzing sound in the distance. The buzzing grew louder and I looked into the skies and saw an old biplane flying towards me from the North by Northwest.

“Nice crop duster,” I chuckled to myself. “Not a lot of crops around here.”

I watched as the plane flew closer and closer towards me and then I had one of those revelations: the pilot’s coming after me. I turned and ran to try to get away from it, finally diving to the ground as it overtook me.

“You stupid bastard!” I shook my fist at the plane. “You got my nice suit all dirty!”

Apparently, the pilot wasn’t satisfied with dirtying up my clothes and circled around for another run at me. I turned and ran towards a cornfield, the only thing in the area that might offer me a modicum of concealment. I heard machine gun fire start up from the plane and bullets whizzed past me, kicking up dirt all around.

“This is gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better,” I muttered to myself. I dove to the ground again and as the plane passed by me a second time, I fired my Wirstcomm at it. I shook my head as the plane began lazily circle around once more, unhindered by my counterattack.

As plane aimed straight towards me, I heard a different sound. Gunfire… From behind me. I turned and saw that FBI agent firing her pistol up at the plane.

“Come on you pinko!” She shouted defiantly while shooting round after round at the plane. “Come on, you stinking bastard, plant one right here. Come on!”


Smoke erupted from the side of the biplane and the propeller sputtered. The craft limped past us before skidding into the ground and erupting into a fireball.

“What are you doing here?” I asked in amazement.

“Looks like I’m saving your bacon, buddy,” she answered with a smirk.