FicWad

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kenner and a bunch of animation studios. All I own is the situation, plot and backstory.

With many thanks to Jonath, Ganeris, Nessa, Beth and Angel for editing, feedback and patient hand holding.



What It Takes

Two

Buddy stared at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. It was the day of Mac's funeral and he was dreading it. Only the fact that he felt he owed it to Mac to go kept him from finding somewhere to hide until it was all over. Mac wouldn't recognise me, he decided, shaking his head.

Plain white shirt; black suit pants; black jacket; hair as neat and tidy as was possible; black tie held in his hand, ready to be tied around his neck. The one thing that looked remotely normal was the way his hands had a greyish tinge to them, where the oil, grease and grunge was too ingrained to ever be properly removed.

"Buddy?"

Sarah's voice drifted into him. "In here," he answered, stepping back from the door. A moment later and she appeared. "How do I look?"

Sarah eyed him critically for a moment. "I think you'll do." She paused. "Do you need a hand with the tie, or do you just want to strangle it?"

That was when Buddy realised he had a death grip around the strip of silk. He ducked his head in embarrassment and held the tie out to her. "Please."

She took it and gently smoothed out the very worst of the creases as best she could. "Hm. Bend down a moment." Buddy obligingly crouched down and deftly Sarah knotted the tie around his neck and straightened his collar. "There."

Buddy stood up and looked at himself in the mirror again, only to see a virtual stranger staring back. I'll be glad to get this over and done.

"You look very smart," said Sarah gently. "Mac would be proud of you, Buddy; very proud."

"Would he?"

"You've done what Mac wanted for all his kids," she replied. "You're making something of your life."

"I guess." He sighed. "I just---"

"So help me," Sarah said sternly, "if you're about to finish that sentence with guilt over Mac's death. It is not your fault. No way, no how." She held her hand out. "C'mon; Matt's waiting downstairs."

Buddy sighed again and allowed her to lead him out of the apartment.

Matt was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Buddy half wondered if that was to prevent him from bolting at the first chance.

"We'll be back this afternoon," said Matt. "Buddy?" He gestured to the stairs down to the parking garage. "Shall we?"

Buddy contemplated running for the safety of his apartment. He even got as far as turning, only to realise that Sarah was standing between him and the apartment. "Sure," he managed to croak. "Let's go."



The thing that struck Buddy about the graveside ceremony, as he arrived, was the sheer number of people in attendance. He recognised a few of them as being people who'd hung out at Mac's shop with him; many more, though, were complete strangers. Mac had touched a lot of people, from many different walks of life.

"Thank you for coming," said a soft voice.

Blinking, Buddy looked up. Standing in front of him was Ava Gronberg, Mac's older sister. He recognised her from a photograph Mac had kept on his desk. "Uh, me?" he asked, realising that at some point during his wool gathering, Matt had vanished into the crowd.

"You see another Buddy Hawks around?" she quipped, the words an exact match for something that Mac might have said. "Mac told me a lot about you; I feel like I've known you almost as long as Mac did. It's nice to finally meet you."

Buddy blinked. Mac had talked about him to his sister? "Uh, thanks," he murmured faintly.

Ava smiled, her expression tinged with sadness. "I'm just sorry we're meeting like this." Then, to Buddy's surprise, she reached up and wrapped him in a tight hug. "I know it's got to be hard for you," she whispered. "From what the cops have told me, you were there, and I can't imagine what it's been like. Know this, though: Whatever happened, whatever Mac did, he made that choice. Don't blame yourself."

"But I--- How---"

Ava stepped back, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "Mac told me, the day before it happened, there was trouble on the way. He said you were caught up in it, that you didn't know, and that if anything happened to him, I was to make sure you knew it was his choice." She sniffed. "You do understand that?"

Buddy swallowed against sudden tears. "I think so," he managed to answer.

Ava mustered a smile. "Good." She glanced over her shoulder at where the minister was standing, ready. "Time to begin." She dabbed her eyes again. "Thank you."

And with that, she vanished into the crowd.

Buddy swallowed again.

"You OK?" Matt asked softly.

Buddy started; he hadn't seen Matt return. He opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, the priest stepped forward. So instead, he nodded. He'd explain later.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a good man and celebrate his life," the minister began. "Mackenzie Stevens was a man who believed in practising what he preached and who believed most strongly in the maxim 'do unto others'. His selfless donation of time to anyone in need and his rejection of violence make his passing seem all the more senseless."

Senseless. Buddy cringed at the word. It had been that all right. Senseless and violent. Suddenly, more than anything in the world, Buddy wanted to leave. His being here was wrong. No matter what Ava asserted or what anyone else told him, some part of Mac's death was his fault. If he hadn't been what Mayhem had wanted, none of this could have happened.

He started to step backwards, intending to leave, but movement from the corner of his eye made him stop. Someone was shaking their head. Buddy half turned and saw the source of the disapproval. It was a young woman standing on the farthest fringes of the funeral party. Dressed in a sombre black dress and with a dark coloured headscarf covering her hair, she wouldn't have looked at all out of place, except for the fact that she was deliberately standing apart from the other mourners and she was staring straight at him.

Seeing she'd caught his attention, she hastily looked away again, but that brief glimpse was enough for Buddy to identify her: Vanessa.

Why was she here? But the answer was blindingly obvious; Mac had helped her as much as he'd helped Buddy.

Except that she was with the people who'd done this. She'd chosen them; even knowing they'd done this. Buddy felt a surge of anger: How dare she come here?

He felt a nudge in his side. Looking round, he saw Matt giving him a bemused look. "You OK?"

Buddy blinked. The service was over and the mourners were leaving. "Uh---" He looked back to where Vanessa was standing, only to find that she'd gone. Had she even been there? "I don't know."

Matt gave him a long look. "You don't know?" he echoed.

Buddy shrugged. "I thought I saw something."

"Or someone?" Matt suggested.

Buddy nodded, but before he could say anything else, Ava reappeared. "You must be Matthew Trakker," she exclaimed. "Mac told me a lot about both you and your brother. I'm glad to finally meet you."

Matt smiled. "Ava; please, call me Matt."

Ava mustered a watery smile. "Matt, then. There's going to be a wake, at Joe's; you're both welcome to come."

Buddy shot Matt a panicked look. He hadn't even considered the possibility of a wake. The thought of that terrified him in a way that even the funeral hadn't. At a wake he'd have to talk to the other mourners, many of whom would know he'd been there when Mac had been shot. If he blamed himself, what would they do?

"I think that may not be a good idea," said Matt.

Ava nodded. "I thought you might say that; but I had to ask." She smiled faintly. "We'll keep in touch," she promised. "I'll see you both soon."

Buddy watched as she turned and walked away to where her husband and family were waiting. "Let's go home."



It was a mainly silent journey back to the mansion. Matt seemed wrapped up in his thoughts, which suited Buddy nicely. Had Vanessa really been there? It had been such a quick sighting and she'd vanished so fast he couldn't help but wonder if he'd simply imagined her presence.

He wasn't sure which he wanted to hope for, either.

"So, who did you think you see?" Matt asked suddenly as he pulled into the mansion's drive.

Buddy sighed. "I'm not even sure I really saw her."

"Vanessa, huh?" Matt guessed knowingly.

"Yeah."

"I'll check with Duane; see if we have any information about where she is."

"Will he know?"

"He might," Matt answered pulling past the mansion's main entry. "The problem we have is we've got no easy way of getting intelligence on what VENOM's plans are, except through established agencies, and they just don't see VENOM as a high priority problem right now."

"Why not?"

"Because, at least so far, VENOM hasn't done anything to put our national security at risk." Matt snorted. "At least, not that I can prove."

Buddy winced. "I see."

There was silence between them for a few minutes as Matt drove Thunderhawk into the parking garage. At the back of Buddy's mind, a solution - at least, a partial one - to the problem of gaining information about VENOM's activities presented itself to him. Duane would hate it. Then again, Duane didn't trust him. The real question was, what would Matt think of it?

"Is there something else?" Matt asked as they got out of the car.

Buddy swallowed. What's the worst that could happen? "I, I might be able to help."

There was an electric pause. Matt slowly turned to face him. "Help?" he echoed.

Buddy found himself blushing furiously, though he stuck to his guns: "I know people. People who'd know. Or who'd have heard things."

"People like Enzo diFontana?" Matt suggested.

It was Buddy's turn to be surprised. "You know Enzo?"

"Only by reputation."

"Oh." Buddy shrugged. "But yeah; people like Enzo."

"Hm." Matt leaned on Thunderhawk's roof, looking thoughtful. "Duane won't like it."

"Figured that."

Matt grinned. "Then again, what Duane doesn't know won't hurt him. All right." He nodded. "See what you can come up with."



Enzo diFontana was the owner of a "commercial goods exchange" set back a little from the main downtown shopping area. It did a modest trade, mostly from the numerous college students in the area, but it the business served another purpose: Enzo was the best fence of stolen goods and hot property this side of the Rockies and his shop enabled him to off load some of the goods he was asked to handle.

On the occasions Buddy had been successful in picking someone's pocket, or when he and Vanessa had made a successful heist, it had been Enzo who helped them dispose of whatever they'd stolen. As he pulled into a parking spot just opposite Enzo's shop, Buddy smirked. There had been a lot of times he and Vanessa had been here to offload loot. In fact, he decided, this was probably the first time he'd ever been to the shop without that excuse.

Crossing the street, Buddy entered the shop. It was as cluttered as ever. Ancient televisions were stacked next to record players; musical instruments and paintings hung from various hooks around the walls; display cases were crammed with items of jewellery and collectible china. How anyone ever found anything, much less Enzo himself, was a mystery to Buddy.

Buddy picked his way carefully through the store, making for the shop counter and the beaded curtain that led to Enzo's back room. Seated at the counter was a girl of about his own age. She was chewing gum and her eyes had a glazed look to them that suggested she hadn't even noticed Buddy's entrance into the shop. Sure hope she's not supposed to be keeping an eye on the merchandise! he decided, grinning.

He reached the counter and stopped. "Is Enzo here?" he asked.

The girl blinked slowly and refocused her gaze on him. "Who wants to know?"

Buddy's grin widened. "I'm an old friend."

The girl snorted. "And I'm Marilyn Monroe. Either gimme a name or---"

"Buddy!"

Looking beyond the girl, Buddy saw Enzo appear through the curtain. He was not a tall man - point of fact, Buddy could over look him by a good couple of inches - but what he lacked in height he made up for in both width and personality.

Buddy chuckled, more at the girl's disgusted response than anything else. "Enzo; good to see you."

Enzo smiled in response. "Michelle, this is Buddy Hawks - he's an old friend of mine."

The girl, Michelle, looked thoroughly under whelmed.

"C'mon through," Enzo continued, gesturing to the curtain. "I just made some coffee. We can catch up." Enzo paused and gave Buddy a significant look. "I been hearing all kindsa stuff about you lately."

"I just bet," Buddy agreed.

He followed Enzo into the back room, which was a near mirror of the main shop. It was marginally less cluttered, but it did contain the same wild range of junk as the main shop, with the addition of a battered couch, a fridge, a coffee machine and an enormous bag of coffee beans.

"Have a seat," Enzo directed as he poured two cups of rich Italian coffee. "Just like mama used to make," he declared, handing over one of the cups. "None of that freeze dried crap!"

Buddy laughed as he sat down on the couch. "Life's too short to grind your own beans every day, Enzo."

Enzo just snorted. "So," he said, sitting down himself. "What brings you down to my humble shop? From what I've been hearing, I wasn't expecting you to darken my doorway again. Pity in some ways," he added reflectively. "You were good, very good, but anyone could see it was a waste of talent."

Buddy rolled his eyes. "Next thing you'll tell me is you taught me all I know."

"Well I did," said Enzo, "at least about picking pockets. The mechanic shit, though? You're on your own with that!"

Buddy laughed. "You know I'd have come down here to see you sooner or later, Enzo. You're still a friend, whatever else's happened. It'd have been sooner, but life's been crazy."

Enzo smiled sympathetically. "So I've heard."

There was a moment of silence. Buddy sipped his coffee and debated how to broach the reason behind this visit.

"Something tells me," Enzo observed, "that this ain't what you might call a social visit now."

Guiltily, Buddy shook his head. "I'm looking for information."

"Go on."

After another hesitation, Buddy shrugged. No sense in beating about the bush; Enzo probably already had a good idea what he was going to ask anyway. "What do you know about VENOM?"

To Buddy's surprise, Enzo pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "Still playin' with the big boys, are ya?" he asked. "Piece of advice, Buddy: Walk way now, before y'get burned."

"Too late for that."

"Vanessa, right?"

Even knowing how well connected to the grapevine Enzo was, that surprised Buddy. "How did you know that?"

Enzo snorted. "Buddy; you and Vanessa were two of the biggest names on the scene. Her joining VENOM was big news and that you and she didn't agree about it---" Enzo shook his head. "Throw in the rumour that you'd gone legit and the fact that Miles Mayhem was tearing the place apart looking for you two weeks ago and you've got the whole damn town in uproar, my friend."

Buddy stared for a second. "How the hell many people did Mayhem threaten to get to me?"

Enzo shrugged. "He's a big fish; this is a small pond."

"I am so gonna kick his ass when I get the chance."

Enzo shook his head again. "You're playin' with fire, Buddy."

"He had Mac Stevens murdered, Enzo; the cops here still think I did it or I was involved and that is so far from the truth---"

"You don't need to tell me," said Enzo cutting the reply off. "Buddy, I know you. The only time you get violent is when someone you love is threatened. And you know what worries me? You're gonna go after Mayhem because of Mac and because of Vanessa."

"So?"

"So I think you're gonna come off worst."

"Are you gonna tell me what I want to know or am I gonna go see Juan and the boys over at the Sundown?" Buddy snapped.

There was a long moment of silence. Then, quietly, Enzo said: "What do you want to know?"

"Is Vanessa in town?"

Enzo sighed. "Yes."

"When did she arrive?"

"I don't know." Buddy opened his mouth to protest, but Enzo fixed him with a glare. "I think it was Sunday night, but she's always kept a pretty low profile and her new friends have got a profile lower than a snake with a hat on."

Buddy digested that information. "So you don't know why they're here?"

"No, and given the goons involved, I don't want to know either."

Buddy stood up. "Thanks for the coffee," he said, setting the empty cup down on top of the fridge.

"You're going?"

One statement, it covered a multitude of different questions. Buddy managed a faint smile. "I'm not suicidal, Enzo. I ain't goin' up against them on my own. There's other folks involved."

For possibly the first time in his life, Buddy saw something very close to genuine surprise cross Enzo's face. "Talk about low profile," he muttered.

Buddy broke into a grin. "Yeah."

"I'm still gonna worry," Enzo pointed out.

"I'll be OK. And, hey," Buddy added, making for the beaded curtain, "next time, I'll grind the coffee beans."

Enzo chuckled. "You do that." His laughter died away. "Take care, Buddy."

Buddy paused at the curtain. "See you soon, Enzo."



"That's all he knew?"

It was late in the day and Buddy had joined Matt and Alex for an impromptu planning session in Matt's dining room. He had just finished relating what Enzo had said. He now shrugged at Alex, who had asked the question. "Enzo would have said if he was holding anything back."

"It ties with what Duane told me," said Matt. "So, I guess we know for certain they're here. The big question is, why?"

"Purely for Mac's funeral?" Buddy speculated.

Alex shook his head. "I suspect, Buddy, that was just fortunate happenstance where Vanessa was concerned."

"There's nothing on in town that would be VENOM's style," Matt mused. "No art displays, nothing scheduled to come through town en-route elsewhere and as far as I can tell, UC isn't conducting any research they'd be interested in, so I can't see any reason why VENOM would be here."

"Even if we knew, Matthew," countered Alex, "I'm not sure there's anything we could do. We're not ready yet."

Matt grimaced. "In Duane's opinion we are. He made us officially operational this afternoon."

Buddy watched as Alex's jaw dropped open. "He did what?" exclaimed the Englishman in stunned tones.

Matt spread his hands in a wide shrug. "VENOM's last stunt, in LA, upped the ante and other security agencies are still not taking them seriously." He sighed. "I don't like it, but we're just gonna have to find a way to be ready. And that means figuring out why VENOM are here and what they're up to."

"Without a little bit more to go on, Matthew, I think we're stumped," said Alex frankly.

From the expression on Matt's face, he'd already come to that conclusion, but hated admitting it.

"There's other people I can talk to," Buddy offered.

"Are they likely to know more than Enzo?" Matt asked.

Buddy shrugged. "Won't know until I ask them." He smiled wryly. "Gotta be worth a shot."

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right, do it." He shook his head. "And Buddy, be careful?"



The following morning, as Buddy worked on the brakes of a battered looking jeep, most of his mind was occupied by the question of what VENOM was doing in Boulder.

The best information he'd been able to come up with from his second trip into town had come from the denizens of the Sundown bar, who'd heard rumours of someone fitting Mayhem's description taking over one of the disused office buildings not far from Mac's shop. That told them where to find VENOM, but it gave them no clue as to why VENOM had come to town in the first place.

There had to be something that they were all missing, Buddy decided, something obvious. He smiled wryly. Of course, why he thought he would spot what Matt and Alex hadn't was a mystery to him, but it was a puzzle his mind refused to let go of.

As he lifted off the old brake disc, which had been worn down almost to the point of uselessness, Buddy heard someone pull onto the gas station's forecourt. Although Earl was out there and ready to deal with anyone wanting service, he listened with half an ear, just in case he was going to be needed as well.

"Earl, good morning." The English tones belonged to Alex. "May I introduce Bruce Sato; he's going to be working for Matthew."

"Nice to meet you," Earl answered.

"An honour," said an accented voice.

Buddy guessed that belonged to the Bruce guy. He frowned. Why was Alex bringing this guy here? He fitted the new disc and started to replace the calliper.

"If you don't mind," Alex continued, "we're going to steal your mechanic for an hour or so."

That made Buddy pause. What the heck did Alex need him for?

Then came a second surprise: "Sure," said Earl. "Though, if you go in and find he's half way through doing a brake disc---"

"Oh, we can wait for him to finish what he's doing," Alex agreed, chuckling.

Buddy blinked. What the heck was going on? He sighed and shook his head. Guess I'll find out in a second, he decided, fixing the last clip. He stood up just as Alex, Earl and a third man - Bruce, Buddy realised - entered the garage.

"You've done this side?" Earl asked.

"Just finished," said Buddy. "Haven't tested it yet, though."

Earl smiled. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid; Alex, he's all yours."

Some of Buddy's confusion must have shown on his face because Alex's first words were, "No need to look quite so worried, Buddy. This is Bruce Sato - Bruce, this is our vehicle specialist, Buddy Hawks."

Bruce reached out expectantly. Buddy hesitated, then rubbed his hand against his thigh, removing the worst of the grease and brake fluid, and reached out to shake. "Nice to meet you; sorry 'bout the mess."

Bruce just grinned. "Not a problem," he insisted. "An honour to meet you."

Buddy doubted that, but he smiled anyway.

"Gentlemen, this way," directed Alex, pointing to a door at the back of the workshop.

Buddy had noticed the door before and assumed that it led to a supplies closet or some storage space. As Alex opened it now, though, he discovered he couldn't have been more wrong. Behind the door was a set of grey concrete stairs leading down. What the heck?

"See you later, Earl," Alex called as he started down the stairs.

Given little choice, Buddy followed Alex and Bruce down the stairs and then through a security door at the bottom. There, Buddy stopped dead in surprise. He was standing at the start of a well-lit, white-painted hallway. Off each side he could see smooth steel doors, which gave the place a vaguely antiseptic feel. The sheer number of doors and the length of the hallway suggested that the whole complex was huge.

Buddy's only consolation was that at least he wasn't the only person confused. Beside him, Bruce looked deeply puzzled.

"What is this place?" Bruce asked.

"It used to be a silver mine," Alex answered.

That made sense, Buddy decided. It certainly explained the basic shape.

"And now?" Bruce persisted.

"Welcome to MASK headquarters," said Alex, amusement on his face. "Since we're operational now, Matthew asked me to show you both around. He'd do it himself, but he's had to go to Denver this morning. This way, chaps."

"You didn't know this was here?" Bruce asked.

Buddy shrugged. "I figured the door led to a closet."

Bruce nodded. "Hidden in plain sight. What better place?"

Buddy eyed the Japanese man curiously and wondered what he'd been hired for.

"These rooms here," Alex said with a wave of his hand, "are bunk rooms and living quarters. We don't expect them to be used much," and here Alex grinned, "but we know people can end up absorbed in their work."

Buddy blushed. That comment was directed at him. A few nights earlier, he'd been working on Condor until the not-so-small hours of the morning, having lost track of the time. Sarah had made some extremely pointed remarks about it and Buddy'd resolved to make sure it didn't happen again! Bruce looked enquiring. Buddy just shook his head.

"Then," Alex continued, kindly ignoring Buddy's discomfort, "this is the piece that will interest you, Bruce." The older man palmed the door open.

The room behind the door reminded Buddy of a school science lab, except it had far more computers and instruments than any lab he'd ever been in. Bruce looked a little like a kid in a candy store.

"This is where I will work?" he asked.

"In the main," agreed Alex. "And if there's anything that you need, just let me know."

Bruce smiled. "It looks most comprehensive. Thank you."

Alex grinned in response and palmed the door shut again. "One more place to show you, then we'll have to let Buddy get back to work."

"Oh, don't rush 'cause of me," said Buddy. "I hate fixing brakes."

Alex laughed as they continued on along the hallway. "Sorry, Buddy. I did promise Earl I was only going to steal you for an hour."

Buddy shrugged.

"You do not enjoy your job?" Bruce enquired.

"Oh, it has its moments," Buddy answered. "Thing is, though, fixing brakes is messy even by my standards."

"Ah," said Bruce sagely.

"Through here, chaps," Alex directed, palming open another door.

This doorway led to a much larger room than the electronics lab, although at first glance it didn't look all that different to Buddy. Three of the walls were lined with computer equipment, while a giant television screen filled the fourth. The rest of the room was mainly taken up by a circular table with eight seats placed around its edge.

He exchanged a glance with Bruce, and asked, "So what is this place?"

"MASK's nerve centre," Alex replied. "It's the briefing room. It's also the place the team will assemble when it's summoned."

"Small team," observed Bruce.

"But exceptionally talented," said Alex.

"Summoned?" queried Buddy. "How?"

Here, Alex grinned. "Are you wearing your birthday present?"

Not for the first time, Buddy wondered just which higher power he might have offended to have met someone as clearly insane as Alex. "My what?"

"The watch."

For answer, Buddy pushed the left sleeve of his coverall up to reveal the digital watch.

Alex smiled. "Good. I strongly advice you not to leave home without it from now on."

Buddy and Bruce exchanged another look, but before either of them could ask the obvious question, Alex turned to face one of the banks of computers. He pushed a button on the console, then said: "Computer, summon Agent Hawks."

Buddy barely had a chance to comprehend that Agent Hawks probably meant him before the watch started bleeping and, disconcertingly, vibrating too.

"The big button beneath the time display acknowledges the call," said Alex, "and turns off the alarm."

Gratefully, Buddy pushed the button and sighed in relief as the electronic bleeping and vibrations cut out.

"When that happens," began Bruce, "we assemble here?" Alex nodded. "Instantly?"

"Well, as quickly as you safely can," Alex temporised. "You don't have to try and rewrite the laws of physics!"

Bruce nodded once. "I see."

"How do we get in?" Buddy asked.

"Excellent question," Alex answered. "There are three entrances in total. One is a direct link from here to the Trakker Mansion; Matt will show you that in due course. One is the door we came in via this morning and one is through a cave roughly one hundred yards along the road from the gas station."

Buddy frowned. He knew that stretch of road well. "There ain't a cave there."

"A hidden entry?" asked Bruce. "How?"

"Holograms," Alex answered succinctly. "I'll show you exactly how in a moment. Buddy; you'd probably better get back to work before Earl sends a search party."

"Yeah," Buddy agreed. "Figure I can use the door from the garage to get in here, right?" Alex nodded. "What's the code?"

Alex smiled. "As long as you're wearing your watch, you won't need one. Just hold the watch up to the security pad."

Buddy shot Alex a dubious look, but as outlandish as the suggestion sounded, the Englishman did seem to be serious. "All right," he finally answered. "Guess I'll see you later."

As Alex nodded, Buddy headed out of the briefing room and jogged back along the corridor, towards the security door and the garage. When he emerged in the workshop, he wasn't surprised to see the jeep had gone.

"You're back?" Earl enquired as Buddy closed the door.

"Unless something comes up."

Earl nodded. "Well, if you're through being super-spy for now, I need you to cover the pumps. I haveta go see Moses Abrahams about an order of parts he still ain't delivered."

Buddy just barely held back a grimace. He hated keeping an eye on the forecourt and actually serving gas customers. Which Earl knew. Was this Earl's way of getting even for his vanishing earlier?
Earl, for his part, just grinned. "I'll see you in an hour or so." And he departed, leaving Buddy with the sudden and irrational desire to have VENOM actually do something to get him out of the tedium!



An hour later and Buddy found that one of his assumptions about serving the customers had been wrong. He'd previously figured it was tedious because of the station not having been particularly busy. He now discovered it was worse when it was busy.

Every motorist in the Boulder area seemed to want to buy gas from the station, and Buddy found himself rushing around to such an extent that it wasn't until someone giggled and said, "Busy morning, huh?" that he realised two things: Firstly, the queue of customers had finally shrunk down to just one individual. Secondly, that individual was Sarah Trakker.

Buddy blinked and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe."

Sarah giggled again. "You look a little fried," she agreed. "Where's Earl any way?"

"Gone to see Moses about some parts," Buddy replied, starting to fill the tank of the powder-blue chevy. "Hey, Scott," he added, spotting the toddler firmly strapped into his car seat.

Scott offered a beaming grin and babbled some nonsense.

"I have to go into town to deal with Matt's speeding fines and Scott needs some new shoes. So I figured I'd combine the trips." She grinned ruefully. "I may regret this."

"Matt got caught speeding?" Buddy boggled.

"Twice," said Sarah.

"What did they catch him with, airborne radar?"

Sarah laughed.

The gas pump cut out, bringing Buddy back to what he was supposed to be doing. "That's fifteen bucks."

Sarah handed him a twenty. "Keep the change and buy some lunch," she advised.

"Yes ma'am." Was this what it was like having a mom, he wondered.

"See you later," Sarah called as she drove away.

Buddy turned for the shop, only to hear the service bell ding again. Turning back, though, he was relieved to see that it was only Earl returning.

"All right kid; go get some lunch," he directed. "You look like you could use some."

Buddy just laughed.



The rest of the day proved to be rather less manic, much to Buddy's relief. Sure, he did have to deal with the service job from hell, in the shape of a Pontiac so rusted he couldn't tell what colour it had originally been, but that was beginning to be part of the routine at the service station.

"You OK to close up?" Earl asked as the day's final customer drove away. "I need to get goin'."

Buddy grinned. "Sure."

Earl smiled. "Thanks, kid. See you tomorrow."

"You got it."

As Earl headed home, Buddy crossed to the gas station's sign and gratefully turned it off. Anyone showed up now, he could safely ignore them. He headed back into the workshop and cleared away the tools and made sure everything was tidy.

As he locked the last tool cabinet, he glanced around the workshop to make sure there was nothing else lying around. There wasn't. Time to go.

But as he reached out to flip the light switch off, his watch started to bleep. Buddy slowly looked down at the noisy device. Oh shit.



TO BE CONTINUED