[Still December 10, 2007 - Manhattan, KS]

     [We're gonna need a time jump at some point, it's too warm out to be
writing about an ice storm. - Ed.]

     "Look," Hans Zwarghoff explained, trying to sound patient but failing
pretty miserably.  "You can't stay here."
     "Why?" Space Case, aka Mikey asked.  "Are you on one of those registries
the news people are always talking about?"
     "NO!" Hans almost jumped back.  "Well, I am on a few mad scientist
lists, but those don't forbid contact with children," he said, sounding like
he wished they did...or at least forbade children from coming into contact
with him.  "I'm just not allowed within fifty feet of a cow.  Long story, no
time to tell it, look at the time, shouldn'tyoubegoinghomenow?" he blurted.
     "It's an ice storm out there," Epicycle, aka Corrine, pointed out as if
explaining the rules of a board game to a particularly slow child.  "Mikey's
phone got wet and won't work, so even if dad could safely come pick us up, we
can't call to ask."
     "Besides, you got electricity," Mikey pointed out.  "Home probably
doesn't."
     "Fine.  You can use my phone," Hans sighed, gesturing at a cordless
handset sitting on the arm of a couch.  "They probably have the line tapped
by now, so I hope your parents don't mind coming to the attention of They."
     "Them," Epicycle corrected.
     "No, They.  It's a proper name...sorry, I'm too tired to pronounce the
capital letter clearly," Doctor Zwarghoff lifted his glasses to rub at his
eyes.  "Hey, why were you out on a night like this in the first place?"
     "My sister made me," Space Case grumped.
     "We're on patrol!" Epicycle struck a heroic pose.  Well, as heroic as a
rain-sodden tweenager could manage.  Which wasn't very, but points for
effort.
     "Okay, that just leads to more questions," Hans sighed.  "WHY are you on
patrol?" 
     "We're going to join the Preteen Patrol," Epicycle replied proudly.
"I'm Epicycle, and this doofus is Space Case."
     "And I'm Doctor Hans Zwarghoff," Hans furrowed his brow.  "Preteen
Patrol...doesn't that require at least three kids?  Where's your third?  And
where's your adult mentor?"
     "We're still looking for a third," Space Case admitted.  "And for a
mentor." 
     The two children suddenly fixed Hans with a PLEEEEEEEEZ? sort of
expression.  
     "Oh, no.  No.  Definitely not.  I am *not* the sort of role model you
want...Elvis knows I'm no Spoonman," Hans dissembled.  "Kids and I don't, I
mean, it's just..." he continued to sputter.
     Epicycle put the phone down, having been using it during the comedic
display of discomfiture.  "Dad says to stay here until morning, the power's
out all over the place, and the roads are horrible.  He also says you're a
crank but basically harmless."
     That brought Zwarghoff to a somewhat indignant stop.  "Harmless?  Say,
who *is* your father?"
     "Nuh-uh.  Secret identities," Epicycle pointed to her goggled
aviator-style helmet.  "The Mask Principle doesn't work if we blab!  RIGHT,
Space Case?" she elbowed her partner, who was on the verge of taking his mask
back off, having only donned it at her insistence earlier.
     "It itches," he protested.
     "Teen Patrol regulations," she replied.
     "Well, you certainly have the Spoongirl/Sporkboy dynamic down," Hans
observed.  "Is that in the regulations too?"
     "'Soptional," Space Case shrugged.  "I think it comes natcheral to her,
though."
     "I could just check the phone's call-out history," Hans countered.  "And
you're not actually *in* the Preteen Patrol yet, not if you don't have a
third young hero, so I'm not entirely sure the Mask Principle will work."
     "Um, wait," Epicycle pulled a booklet out of her costume and started
paging through it.  "Where is that...ah, here.  'Probationary or pre-
enrollment PTP members enjoy the full metaphysical protection of the Mask
Principle, up to and including keeping their parents blissfully in the dark
about their activities.'  So there.  Read it and weep."
     "Let me see that!" Hans snapped, grabbing at the booklet and scanning
through the pages.  "Drat."
     "Oh, and look at page thirty five, paragraph two," Epicycle added
smugly. 
     "Page...para..." Hans mumbled under his breath.  "Wait a minute!?  'Any
adult without a criminal record who accepts this booklet from a pre-
enrollment PTP member who lacks a team mentor will be considered the
provisional mentor until such time as a permanent mentor can be chosen'?  So
I'm stuck with you two until I can find some other poor sap to pawn you off
on?" 
     Epicycle looked like she was going to cry, but Space Case just shrugged.
"Unless you have a criminal record?" he suggested.  He didn't seem too
interested in the arrangement either.
     "No, but that can be fixed," Hans snarled.  "I can think of a few
felonies I'd like to commit right now..."
     "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!" Epicycle bawled.
     "What?" Hans blinked.  "No, don't cry.  Stop that.  There's no crying in
superguying...wait, that's baseball.  Wow, you got a set of lungs on you.
Please stop...stop crying...ALL RIGHT, I'LL BE YOUR MENTOR!" he finally
capitulated.  
     "Yay!" Epicycle bounced up and down happily, tears instantly shut off in
that way that most children can manage.
     "Just, don't go in the basement.  It's not child-safe.  And don't go in
my bedroom.  Or any of the other bedrooms.  In fact, just stay here in the
living room, I'll get you some blankets or something," Hans dithered.  "Watch
some TV or something, assuming the cable's still working," he said as he
wandered off in search of the promised blankets.
     "This is a pretty big house for just one guy," Mikey observed after Hans
was out of earshot.  "Especially if we're not supposed to go into any of the
bedrooms.  You suppose he has kids?"
     "Him?  Kids?" Corrine snorted.  "I doubt it!  He can't even recognize a
basic Number Five fake cry...he wouldn't last five days with kids of his
own.  Too bad, though...if there *were* other kids here, I bet we could get
one of 'em to be our third."
     Hans came back into the room, and the two kids schooled their faces into
the sort of false innocence that wouldn't fool a parent for an attosecond
[10^-18 seconds - Ed.].
     "Ah, good, you've settled down," Hans sighed in relief.  "Now, I'm going
to have to go downstairs in a bit to check on something, and then the others
who live here should be back.  I'm sure one of them would be a much better
mentor than me," he promised.

     A few hours later, the two kids were asleep on the couch and the Exarchs
hadn't come back through the Cheeezball.
     Hans didn't sleep a wink until morning.


__--__--__--__--__--__--__--     \\NEW//       --__--__--__--__--__--__--__
 .|,Coherent Comics Presents      \\ //        #12 - Waiting for Gouda
--X-------------------------     E }X{ ARCHS      copyright 2008 by the
 '|` A Superguy/LNH Tale          // \\        Dvandroid (Dave Van Domelen)
--__--__--__--__--__--__--__     //   \\       __--__--__--__--__--__--__--


[January 12, 2008 - Manhattan, KS]

     [I toldja!  Time jump! - Ed.]

     "Mornin', Doc!" Epicycle chirped as Hans opened the door, still dressed
in robe and slippers.  "Any word from your friends?"
     Hans blinked blearily.  "Izcaturdayalready?" he mumbled.
     "Strictly speaking," Space Case yawned, pulling off his mask to rub the
sleep out of his eyes, then putting it back before his sister could elbow
him.
     "You said we could do down to CiCo Park and practice wilderness tracking
today?" Epicycle insisted.
     "And do some sledding," Space Case held up an official Spoonman
SnowSpoon (TM), essentially a giant plastic spoon you sat in for sledding,
much as kids in days gone by might have used shovels (only to fall into the
ice and die, because their older brothers foolishly wished never to have been
born and some idiot angel took it literally).
     "Oh, right," Hans replied, a little less zombie-like now.  "Come on in,
kids.  I need to get dressed and eat something.  Um, and no luck on my
friends, no."
     In fact, he'd finally finished cheeez-proofing a remote drone and sent
it through the Cheeezball the night before, only to have it immediately cease
functioning.  When he'd reeled it back in, he'd found it covered in tiny
dents...and clay.  Analyzing the chemicals in the clay had kept him up far
later than he'd planned.
     "I think one of the kids at school is coming around," Epicycle called
down the hall as Hans shuffled around in his bedroom.  "He even has a power.
Okay, he can just make a red dot appear on things, like a human laser
pointer, but you might be able to make someone think police snipers are
targeting them."
     "I suggested he call himself The Great Red Spot," Space Case
contributed.  "He thought it sounded like a name for someone with zit
powers."
     "And then the dummies spent half an hour making zit jokes," Epicycle
frowned.  
     Hans emerged, fully clothed and covered in a rumpled lab coat instead of
a rumpled robe, sniffing himself experimentally and deciding a shower wasn't
100% necessary yet.  "Here, I've been meaning to give these to you two," he
said, holding out a pair of flash drives.
     "What's on 'em?" Space Case asked.  "Secret super science stuff?"
     "Sort of.  Cheeez sensors.  Plug them into your phones, and if the alarm
goes off, call me," he pointed to their new, water-and-iceproof, cellphones
with USB ports.  "It's superguying stuff."
     "Would this have anything to do with that fight at the mall a few weeks
ago?" [In New Exarchs #7-9 - Ed.] Epicycle asked, cocking an eyebrow.  "I
remember smelling some cheese after it ended."
     "Yes," Hans beamed, like a teacher at a star pupil.  "The bad guys use
cheeez-based technology, so this should let you know if they're nearby.
Remember, though, you're still not officially in the PreTeen Patrol, so don't
try to fight any of the bad guys."
     "No duh," Space Case rolled his eyes, earning him an elbow from his
sister.  
     "Can you make us some powers," Epicycle asked.  "I mean, beyond sensor
stuff?  Things we can use if we, um, can't run away from the badguys when
they show up?"  She already had a long mental file of excuses to explain why
she just *couldn't* have run away, and *had* to fight the badguys.  
     Hans thought for a moment.  Giving weapons to children was generally
frowned upon by the authorities.  Even They weren't too keen on it, and They
had very little sense of morality that Hans was aware of.  On the other hand,
while Manhattan didn't have anything like Dillweed City's Directive 37
officially on the books, the general principle of "normalguy police don't
interfere with superguy business" was an accepted part of common police
practice.  And giving weapons to superguys was perfectly okay.
     Well, as far as the police were concerned.  Hans was starting to wonder
if maybe behind those innocent exteriors his two little charges were more
than a little trigger-happy.
     "I'll think about it," he finally said.  

WILL HANS ARM THESE ADORABLE LITTLE CHILDREN, IN WHOSE MOUTHS BUTTER WOULDN'T
     MELT?

WHERE THE HECK DOES THAT "BUTTER WOULDN'T MELT IN HER MOUTH" PHRASE COME
     FROM ANYWAY?  WOULDN'T LACK OF MELTING SUGGEST THE PERSON IS ONE OF 
     THE UNDEAD, OR A REPTILE-PERSON?

WILL NEXT EPISODE FOLLOW THE REST OF THE CAST AROUND FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH,
     OR IS THE AUTHOR USING SOME SORT OF CHEATY "TIME ISN'T RUNNING AT THE
     SAME RATE IN THE TWO ALTIVERSES" DODGE NOW?

IF THE LATTER, WILL IT BECOME A SIGNIFICANT PLOT POINT?

WILL HANS EVER LEARN THAT THE APPEARANCE OF INNOCENCE IN A CHILD IS 
     DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL TO THEIR LEVEL OF GUILT?

     Answers to some of these, and maybe a horrifying sledding accident, on
the next...SUPERGUY!

============================================================================

Author's Notes:

     Hans Zwarghoff's default attitude towards kids is a mix of the 2007 Hans
Zarkov's general social ineptitude and Stargate Atlantis's Rodney McKay's
specific attitudes towards kids.  He does seem to be warming to this pair,
which is another way of saying they're successfully conning him.
     Yes, "Red Spot" is a Xanth reference.  Also, in Randy Milholland's
"Super Stupor" strip, he is clearly thinking of the original PreTeen Patrol
when talking about how the younger and cuter a kid is, the more of a tank the
kid must be.  Neither Corrine nor Mikey can channel the entire output of the
Sun at will.
     Yet.
     Oh, there are *so* many ways I can make that "yet" turn out badly for
Hans....