Nuklear Age (46 page)

“Thanks Steve. It seems that complete humanocide has been adverted by the brave efforts of extension cord manufacturers who had the foresight to produce cords of finite length. Alpha and Beta vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared, but not before leaving one final message. ‘We hate you Rob, our greatest victory will be your continued existence torturing your fellow protein-mills.’ Steve.”

Atomik Lad turned down the volume. “Okay, never mind that.” He tossed the remote to Rachel who immediately began scanning through he channels just fast enough to be too fast. “But we’ve still got that lawsuit thing to worry about.”

Nuklear Man put his arm around Atomik Lad and drew him close for a friendly punch in the shoulder. “It’s so cute the way you worry about grown up stuff.”

Atomik Lad broke free of the Nuklear Confine and rubbed his possibly bruised shoulder. “Nuke, this is serious. Well, I mean it’s frivolous, really, but it could escalate into something out of our control since Menace is behind it. We have to be careful, we’re not above the law.”

“No, we
are
the law. And that’s just as nice really.”

“Ugh. Did you find a lawyer?”

“Yup.”

“A real one this time, not some bum in an alley again?”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Sparky. I’ve got it all under control.”

“I think that’s the most frightening thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Besides, if anything goes wrong, I’ve got Norman cookin’ up a nice, hot Insurance Pie.”

“No,” Rachel corrected while flipping through the channels.
“That’s
the most frightening thing you’ve ever heard.”

Atomik Lad hung his head low. “We’re going to jail. I’m calling it now.”

__________

Issue 36 – Law and Disorder

And in the fullness of time on a small rock orbiting at a comfortable distance from its star, it became Sunday.

Atomik Lad sat down at the Danger: Kitchen Table reading the morning comics while sipping on a Danger: Glass of orange juice. He had just fed Katkat and was trying not to laugh at the undignified ruckus his furry companion made while satisfying the insatiable taste for mastodon flesh for which all felines have instinctively hungered since the days when ice covered much of the Earth’s surface. Due to the intensity with which Katkat tackled every situation, even more so when it came to eating, his bowl slid a fraction of an inch across the Danger: Floor with every lick of the scrumptious mastodon-flavored Kit-N-Bits. Of course, only the cats know it tastes just like mastodon, and they’re not talking.

Speaking of undignified ruckus, Nuklear Man stumbled into the Danger: Kitchen, which was quite an accomplishment, since he did so while floating several inches from the floor. His eyes were red and puffy, his face—oily and unshaven—was sallow and hanging from the bones. He bumbled up to the Danger: Computer Lady interface, blinked twice, and muttered, “Rocket fuel. Earl Grey. Hot.”

No response.

His massive shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “Rocket fuel. Earl Grey. Hot.”

Again, nothing.

“Nuke,” Atomik Lad began.

The Hero faced his young ward. “Rocket. Fuel.”

“I know, Big Guy, but—”

“Earl. Grey.”

“Okay, except you can’t just—”

“Hot.”

Atomik Lad clawed his face. “It’s too early for this.” He stood up and prepared the Hero's requested drink. “There. Ya big baby.”

“Was that so hard?” Nuklear Man asked Danger: Computer Lady. He took a sip and his Plazma Aura was kicked into overdrive. Atomik Lad was reminded of the sound fighter jets make when throttling up. Nuklear Man’s face became a mask of tensed muscles and clenched teeth. His eyes burned. He hung onto the Danger: Counter Top with all his Nuklear Might. “Oh mamma!” he said over the turmoil before an explosion sent him to the other side of the Danger: Kitchen, where he would have squashed Katkat had the little guy not already pushed his food bowl several feet from where he began his meal. “Yeow!” Nuklear Man said with a rasping voice. “She’s got kick, she does.” Oddly enough, he was now in his full spandexed splendor.

Atomik Lad went back to his orange juice and comics. He could feel his mentor creep into his vicinity. “What?”

“So…” Nuklear Man began as he slid into the seat next to Atomik Lad. “I didn’t notice our guest leaving last night. Winky, winky.”

“Nope.”

“So. Un-chaperoned. Alone. At night. They don’t call them ‘whore-moans’ fer nuthin’ you know!”

Atomik Lad closed his eyes. “You spent all night working that one out, didn’t you.”

“Get it? Hormones, whore moans. Damn, I’m pretty.”

“Nuke. She’s not that kind of girl.”

The Hero nearly fell back aghast, but drew in close once more. “What, she doesn’t have a fuckhole?”

Atomik Lad spat orange juice all over his newspaper and the Danger: Kitchen Table.

“I know she’s at least got one of those suckholes, she kept yammering on with it.”

“Hi, boys,” Rachel said cheerily as she walked into the Danger: Kitchen.

“See?” Nuklear Man pointed out.

Atomik Lad stood. “Excuse us, Rachel. We’ll be back in a second.” He grabbed Nuklear Man by the ear and dragged him out of the room.

“Mind if I use your phone? I should call my roommate so she doesn’t worry about me.”

“Go for it,” Atomik Lad said before giving Nuklear Man a rough tug into the Danger: Living Room.

“Ouch! Er, I mean, that didn’t hurt.” The Danger: Door shut behind them.

“Strange,” Rachel said to herself while looking at the mess of orange juice all over the Danger: Kitchen Table. “Very strange.” She picked up the phone and dialed.

Ring, ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Susan. It’s Rachel.”

“Rachel! Where have you been?”

“Well…”

“Did you spend the night with Atomik Lad?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Oh my God!” Her voice turned into the kind of whisper a voyeur would use. “So, did you…?”

“Susan, he’s not that kind of guy.”

“What, he doesn’t have a fuckstick?”

Rachel ran to the Danger: Sink, poured herself a Danger: Cup of water, sipped some, and spat it out.

“I know he’s at least got hands, otherwise he couldn’t have played all those video games over here.”

“Susan!”

Atomik Lad came back into the Danger: Kitchen and started cleaning up his mess. Nuklear Man sulked into the room and sat down with a grumpy huff one would expect from a recently disciplined child.

“Er, anyway, Susan, we’ll talk when I get back later this morning.”

“Don’t tell me he made you do all the work. Men are so self—”

“Ahem,” Rachel said to fill the silence that followed her abrupt slamming of the Danger: Phone. “I guess I should head home. I’ve got some stuff due tomorrow and you guys have that trial to worry about anyway.”

And so Atomik Lad flew Rachel back to her dorm without incident. And then nothing silly happened for the rest of the day.

__________

Monday.Atomik Lad awoke with a jolt. He was wide awake, which was a jolting experience on its own. Wakefulness, he’d always felt, was not something one should just jump into first thing in the morning.

He rose slowly, trying to force his joltiness down to a nice, natural, groggy reluctance. Try as he might however, he could not silence a whispering voice in the back of his mind. “Yet I’m pretty sure I don’t hear voices,” he told himself. He got out of bed, adjusted his sweatpants and slipped on an oversized red shirt sporting a faded and cracked image of his Atomik “A” on the front. He sleepily shambled into the Danger: Living Room.

“Hey, Sparky!” Nuklear Man cheerfully greeted from his comfy reclining position on the Danger: Couch. A host of babbling voices came from the Danger: TV.

Atomik Lad dashed back into his room. “Good gravy! We’re late!”

Nuklear Man kept watching the Danger: TV with Katkat.

“Meowr?”

“I dunno, he’s always runnin’ around. Too old. Yes, too old for the training. Which is why you’re the sidekick, yes you are! Yes you are!”

Atomik Lad hopped through the Danger: Living Room on one foot while trying to put on his shoes and getting the top half of his spiffy spandex outfit on at the same time. He collapsed several feet from the Danger: Door.

“If we’re late to the trial, then we lose!” Atomik Lad grunted as he crawled into the Danger: Kitchen.

“Late?”

Atomik Lad, hopping again, came back into the Danger: Living Room with a frozen waffle in his mouth, half of his spandex top on, both shoes in one hand, and his hair sticking out all over the place. “Yes, late. Like not on time, something I know you’re familiar with. I can’t believe my alarm clock didn’t go off, I even made sure to set it half an hour early so this kind of thing wouldn’t—”

EEEP EEEP EEEP EEEP EEEP!!!

Atomik Lad froze and stared into his Danger: Katkat’s Room.

Nuklear Man’s right eye twitched violently. “When does the beeping stop!? I'll tell ya when, right now, baby!” He leaped over the Danger: Couch and gave an Action Charge Up Now kind of pose. “PLAZMAAA—”

Atomik Lad jumped between the Golden Guardian and Danger: Katkat’s Room, “Nuke!”

“—BEAM!”

The fusion-ish energy bolt splashed harmlessly off a luckily active Atomik Field. It’s job done, the crackling field dissipated.

“What the hell was that?!” Atomik Lad demanded.

“Sorry. I really hate, hate, hate, hate, those things.” Left eye twitch. “Please make it stop.”

Atomik Lad stomped into his room and shut off the shrieking alarm. But how did he get up before me? He’s never gotten up before me. Well, except for Christmas. I was twelve before I knew that Santa didn’t hate sidekicks and give their presents to the hero. Twisted bastard.

He suspiciously approached Nuklear Man who was still vegging out on the Danger: Couch.

“Yes?” the Hero asked as Atomik Lad loomed over him like a wrathful god.

“Why were you awake before me?”

“Oh, crazy ex-sidekick. It’s because of Silly Sam’s Cartoon Marathon-a-thon o’ Fun: Special Morning Edition.”

“What makes it so special?”

“Well, it’s in the morning, isn’t it.”

“And?”

“And that makes it different from the Afternoon Edition. Duh.”

“Oh, right.” Atomik Lad’s vengeful god demeanor melted away in complete Nuklear Logic Defeat. “But we don’t have time for this, the trial is today. We’ve got to get to the courthouse to sign in or whatever it is they do at court.”

“Courthouse? Trial? What?”

After a lengthy discussion about the subpoena “fan mail”, a reluctant pantomime sketch performed by the geneto-revolutionary Nukebots Alpha and Beta, stock footage of Nuklear Man reading the subpoena taken from the Silo’s own Danger: Security Cameras, and Katkat rubbing against the subpoena, Nuklear Man finally put two and two together to get, “So you’re saying we may have already won ten million dollars!”

“For the last time, no!”

“Feh. Lousy dark numbers.”

“Look. Nuke, this is really quite simple.”

“Oh good, then you should be able to handle it. Keep me posted, hm?”

“I’m going to count to ten.”

“Ooh, impressive.”

A half-choking, half-coughing, all-exasperated grunt emanated from the sidekick.

“No, no. I’ve heard it before, I don’t think that’s how it starts.”

Atomik Lad growled.

“On second thought, I’d better take over from here. As simple as all this is, I can see it’s far beyond your abilities.”

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t care, let’s just go.”

“Go?”

Atomik Lad clenched his teeth tight enough to crush diamonds. “To. The. Court. House.”

“Why would we want to do that?’

“The. Tri. Al.”

“Oh, you naïve, stupid, weakling Sparky. Don’t you see? That’s exactly what they want us to do. We’d be playing right into their evil little trap.”

Atomik Lad sputtered uselessly.

“They get us in this room, you see, with ‘lawyers’, and a ‘judge’ who acts like he runs the place, and a ‘jury’—just who do they think they are? Hm? Who died and gave them the power to decide who’s guilty and who’s innocent?”

Atomik Lad’s head drooped. “No one died, Nuke.”

“Heh. Not yet they haven’t. Not yet indeed.”

“Are you done?”

“My point,” Nuklear Man said, “is the second they get you into that courtroom, it’s like a trial in there!”

“Imagine that.”

“So we’re staying right here, thank you very much.”

“Help me help you. Tell me how I can make you understand that if we stay here, then we lose the trial.”

“I dunno, you could try a little dance.”

“A dance.”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt, could it?”

“I’ll show you hurt, you dumb ox,” Atomik Lad muttered.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. It’s pointless talking to you, you know. It’s like talking to a brick wall with an echo, only the echo somehow manages to echo back my words in some kind of garbled babble-talk. We’re probably late already anyway.”