(( See, as much as I'd like to believe that that old bastard can change, I'm in the same boat as his kid and daughter-in-law, waiting for (what seems to be) the inevitable other shoe to drop, and for Papes to lop his miserable head off. With all the scheming and vindictive thoughts he's been shown having, I don't think I could trust him for a microsecond, new kid on the way or not. ))

_________________
"Do your best and let the rest work itself out."
Doctor Void - Dr. Wretched - Impact Tower - Jackie Bones - MerryGoRound - Bella Facade - Dark Anima - Choose - many others.

The Dog Teams of the Village Hidden in Bureaucracy trained very rigorously, with the handlers and dogs seeming to have a telepathic link at times. Leo Iasan and his dog Ganbaru had a closer link now that some of Leo's more feline traits manifested. Dog teams acted as scouts, trackers, security forces, messengers and rescue teams. Much of this work involved long hours in intense training, including running through mud, following scent trails through slaughterhouses, and extracting targets from the most noisome materials possible. While Leo was fastidious thanks to his mother's insistence, Ganbaru wasn't quite as enamored of regular hygiene.

Frankly, Ganbaru stunk to high heaven, and Leo's grandmother wasn't letting the dog back in the apartment unless he got scrubbed squeaky clean.

Dog and boy stared each other down in the apartment parking lot. Next to Leo was a small water trough that he'd bought from a farmer and converted into a wash tub for his dog. Leo had modified it with holders for the soap and conditioner and installed a better drain plug at the bottom of the trough. The lessons he learned in welding the drain spigot to create a watertight seal may not help him in the immediate future, but he might use it at a later date.

"Come on, Ganbaru. Grandma won't let you in the house unless you get washed," Leo pleaded.

The German Shepherd harrumphed.

"Don't give me that tone of voice," Leo growled. "Now get in there so you can smell good."

Ganbaru whined a little.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, Grandma just thinks you smell bad. Then again, we did have to cross a feed lot today. You still smell like cow manure to her."

Ganbaru whined some more.

"I'm not mad at you. This is just what you have to do so you can eat dinner with us. Come on. I'll give you a treat if you get in," Leo said.

The dog gave the young ninja a wary eye.

"It's warm water, and soapy. I even have goggles for you so you don't get any soap in your eyes. See?" The boy held out a pair of modified swim goggles.

Ganbaru harrumphed as a dog can.

"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is that you get into the tub, you get a treat. You get washed, you get a treat. You get dried, you get a treat."

Ganbaru's tail thumped on the asphalt every time he heard "treat."

"The hard way is that I pick you up and put you in there. You won't get a treat if I put you in there."

Ganbaru whined.

"No. Get in before I put-"

"COWABUNGA!" Martin Iasan and Matthieu Iasan shouted in unison as they jumped into the water in their swim trunks, splashing Leo and the dog.

"Hey, you said it was a swimming pool!" Matthieu shouted at the second of the Iasan brothers. "There's soap in here!"

"Why'd you have to ruin an awesome swimming pool with soap, Leo?" Martin said.

Leo and the dog just stood their, dripping.

"I'm going to-" Leo started before he was interrupted by Ganbaru shaking the water from his hair.

"I'm gonna get you morons!" Leo said, his spots darkening.

The younger Iasan boys leapt out of the wash tub and made a hasty retreat to the apartment door.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Leo drained the wash tub after he finally convinced Ganbaru to bathe. He didn't trust the galvanizing job on the metal, so he sprayed in a layer of ceramic coating to line the tub after welding in the drain valve. He also added a small rise to one side of the tub to make it drain completely through the valve at the other end. Fortunately it stayed right where it was supposed to during the coating process, so he had one very fancy, overengineered, stock tank/ wash tub. After mopping and scrubbing out the tub. he looked around and attached an electric air pump to the drain valve and set the valve open. Leo turned the tap on and began to refill the tank. Once it was done, he hooked up a propane heater to blast the side of the tank, heating everything up. Finally, he made a couple of calls to some of his fellow students in the dog team classes, especially the girls.

"Uhm, hey Rina, it's Leo. I know your parents have a grill and I was wondering if you'd bring over to the parking lot at my grandma's apartment building? I've got something I wanna show the teams. Yeah, I've got some stuff ready to go. Just bring the grill and the fire," he said to one of his teammates. "I think I've got a... well, something really good for summer vacation at least. Come check it out. Tell Jasmine and Kelly to come check it out as well. Bring swimsuits. No, seriously!"

Sure, it was a wash tub for the dogs, but once it was cleaned out, it made one heck of a nice redneck hot tub. You could fit about four medium-sized dogs into the tub, or four ninja apprentices. You could fit eight if they were friendly with each other. Leo was hoping for friendliness to ensue when he spotted his parents riding over in their rented car.

The Paperwork Ninja pulled in close to where his son had the tub set up. He and Wendy got out of the car and walked over to Leo. The boy was still marvelling over his work.

"Hey, Leo. What are you building?" the Paperwork Ninja asked his oldest son.

"Oh, uh, hey, Dad. I put together a big wash tub for the dog teams. I figure it might make me a little money on the side as a dog groomer in addition to the money I get from regular missions."

"So this is what you've been spending money on?" Wendy asked. "Where do you put it?"

"I rent out the parking spots from the apartment owner, and put this other stuff in the secure shed when I'm not using it. That also costs me some more rent, so I figure washing dogs might help defray the costs," Leo said.

"Pretty fancy washtub," the Paperwork Ninja said, admiring his son's handiwork. "Looks more like a spa."

"It's uh, dual-purpose," Leo said, blushing a bit.

"Oh?" the Paperwork Ninja said.

"Yeah," the boy said as he cranked up the air pump. It started blowing bubbles into the now-heated water. He opened the ice chest he'd set next to the pump, grabbed a soda and got into the hot bubbling water. "Hey, this isn't too bad."

"Can we get in?" Wendy asked.

"Uh, yeah, but..." Leo started.

"Leo!" a girl's voice shouted. "I brought the little grill. It was easier to carry." A girl about Leo's age walked up to the Iasans. She was a little more tan than the rest of the girls, was carrying a grill and trailed by a pleasantly-disposed pit bull. Wendy was also surprised a girl would walk over in just a bikini top, cutoffs and flip-flops.

"Uh, hey, Rina," Leo called back. "Check it out. Dog washer and hot tub."

"Awesome," Rina said as she unfolded the grill and hooked it up to a smaller propane bottle. "Well, that part's done. What'd you buy?"

"Hot dogs and some premade burgers," Leo said.

"Sweet," Rina said as she removed her shorts and got into the tub with Leo. Rina's dog sniffed Ganbaru and the two went through the usual dog greeting customs.

Wendy was internally lamenting that her little boy was growing up. At least the girls' swimsuits weren't completely scandalous. She'd like them to be a little more modest around her baby, though. Then she remembered he was turning thirteen this year.

The Paperwork Ninja was beaming with pride, until he thought this might be a setup by his father.

"Leo, did Grandpa Culler give you any of this?" the Paperwork Ninja asked.

"No, Dad. This is all my own design and money." Soon the parking lot was filled with a few more girls. "Like I said. It's a business design and a party all in one." A few boys even showed up.

"So, uh, as weird as it sounds, Dad, could I stay here over the summer? I want to do some work and I've got a spot on one of the Legion baseball teams if I can stay."

The Paperwork Ninja blinked. "When did you start playing baseball?"

"It's kind of a requirement. My last name is Iasan, so I was kinda pushed into it. I don't mind it."

"You'll have to come home once the season's over, and until school starts again," the Paperwork Ninja said. "Wendy?"

"My little baby is growing up so fast!" she said as she leaned over and kissed her son on the cheek in front of all the girls.

"Mom," Leo whined. "Not in front of my friends!"

"Oh, but my son's such a genius!" Wendy said, flashing a feral smile at the girls. The smile itself was a simple warning: break my son's heart, I'll break your neck.

Meanwhile, John Culler was at home, wondering how best to get his grandson to forgive him, but still get a little revenge for sassing him a few days earlier. His eyes lit up and he headed out the door.

John was going to have a little fun at the boy's expense. Not too much, though. He was trying to mend fences, not burn bridges.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

John Culler arrived at the apartment complex to meet his grandson and beheld a young man, his hot tub, and a lot of girls in swimsuits enjoying themselves. Sure, they were from the dog handler school, but John was still impressed. Lightning callers never chased the dog handlers because they'd usually call the lightning callers on their crap. That crowd of ninjas was too perceptive, too sensitive, and too demanding of loyalty. He couldn't love them and leave them. He could, however, assert his alpha male role around them, just to tease his grandson a bit. Then John saw the Paperwork Ninja and Wendy talking with some of the kids and their parents, who had come down to see what the boy had built.

John had to rethink his plan a bit. Regardless, he swaggered his way into the crowd. With every brush up against someone, the crowd parted with a "Your pardon, Head Administrator" until he arrived in front of Leo. Leo was leaning back in the tub with a soda in one hand and his arm was almost but not quite officially around the girl next to him.

"Leo?" John asked. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Uh, hi, Grandpa. I'm celebrating the start of my part-time dog washing business," Leo said. "So I, um, invited some of the other kids from the dog teams in here."

"And you're going to use this tub, I take it?" John asked.

"Yeah. It's like the reason why I built it."

"I see. Why are you all sitting in it, then, if it's for the dogs?"

"Well, I guess it's because if it's not good enough for us, then it's not good enough for the dogs."

"Have you got a permit for this business?" John smirked.

"I don't need one as long as I don't exceed five thousand dollars a year. Combining the revenue between the washing service and tub rental, I probably won't make that much. I still might have to deal with tax laws, though."

"Finally," John leaned in closer to Leo. "You kissed the girl next to you yet?" he asked in a semi-conspiratorial tone. "She seems eas- uhm, eager enough."

Leo's face reddened. "Geez, Grandpa, not in front of my friends!"

"Well, I can't say I approve of it, grandson of mine," John said. "If you're in a hot tub with a good-looking girl, you should at least kiss her once or twice."

Leo turned redder, and his spots darkened. "Geeeeeez. Mom and Dad are right over there."

John whispered something into Leo's ear. With every sentence, Leo turned redder as his eyes darted back and forth towards Rina's bikini top.

"Does that really work?" Leo asked.

"Yep. Just a flip of the wrist and it's off like a flash. Say, you're looking a little overheated, Leo," John said with a grin. You should get out of the tub now."

"Really? I don't feel-" Leo said as he started to get up, then quickly sat down. "Uh, no. I'm fine."

"I don't know. You could be overheating."

"No, Grandpa, I'm fine. My, uh, foot's just asleep is all," Leo said.

"Uh huh," John said. "Foot's asleep. Right."

Leo closed his eyes. "Bob Gibson, 1967 World Series, 18 strikeouts," he mumbled to himself. "Bob Gibson, 1967 World Series, 18 strikeouts."

John smiled. It wasn't the best revenge for Leo's earlier outburst from a few days ago, but it would have to do. Besides, he had a good reputation to build. He also didn't want to get killed by his daughter-in-law.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Grace Iasan looked over the apartment balcony at her brother's impromptu pool party.

"No way that nerd is going to beat me at making friends," she grumbled. With a muttered stream of invectives aimed squarely at her younger brother, she dragged her father's old Marshall amplifier and speaker out to the balcony and plugged them into an auxiliary outlet. She plugged the cable into her dad's old Explorer and checked the tuning as the initial attention getter. It was restrung for left-handed players, but she'd spent plenty of time getting used to playing around dials on other guitars. No one seemed to pay attention, which made Grace fume even more. She turned the speaker knobs to their full stops and tore into Betthoven's Moonlight Sonata, 3rd movement.

"I WIN, GOD DAMMIT, NOT YOU," Grace growled under the wave of music. "I'M THE OLDEST, I GET ALL THE FRIENDS!"

The Paperwork Ninja and John Culler both looked up to the sky for clouds. Everyone else, though, stopped and stared at the angry catgirl shredding on an old guitar. John walked over to his son and daughter-in-law.

"As you can see, Grace has turned into quite the guitarist," John said nervously.

"She's not going to give up easy on being a lightning caller, is she?" Wendy asked.

"I don't think so," John said.

"She's got Dad's skills and my stubborn streak," the Paperwork Ninja said. "This is gonna be tough."

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

The one thing that Grace hated about studio time was the headphones. There wasn't any headphone design that worked for cat ears. Still, though, she was a lightning caller like her grandfather and her father. Well, Dad quit and joined the Administrative Infiltration section. Having to know aspects of so many business models and accounting and economics was dead boring, though. It couldn't be as bad as studio time, though. So she sat at the mixing board and went over her guitar recording. She listened to it, and wasn't impressed. It was flat. It was missing something. She restarted the piece again and moved a few sliders. Nothing. She got bored and rapidly moved a slider back and forth. The guitar warbled.

Okay, that sounded pretty wild. She copied the warbled section and looped it. It wasn't enough, so she added a backing drumbeat that worked in time with her original guitar piece. She changed the time signature ever so slightly and let it run. Her eyes went to a tone generator. She started it up and gave an underlying bass tone to her guitar. She flipped through a few different types of filters and found what she wanted.

The drum stopped its loop, the bass dropped and the warbled guitar distorted further. Grace set the drum and bassline to loop and changed the guitar loop's pitch manually as time progressed.

An old billboard outside of town burst into flame as lightning struck from a clear blue sky.

A guitarist may have turned herself inadvertently into a DJ.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

The new arrival to the Village Hidden in Bureaucracy looked over her sunglasses at the nondescript town on the Midwestern plain. No delicatessens could be seen, no Dunkin' Donuts, only a McDonald's and a Starbucks welcomed the girl from her car window.

"This contract had better be worth it, Mr. Culler," Claire Pachowski said.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Oliver Dennison was sitting at his desk when a knock came at the office door. The Paperwork Ninja was providing his family with a tour of the town offices.

"Dennison, old man!" The Paperwork Ninja said in a most collegial manner. "I thought I'd pop in and say hello, maybe show the kids around the old town hall before we take them home for the summer. I don't think they've been here with me before."

"Ah, Iasan, my fellow company man! Good of you to drop by. The Head Administrator is out for the moment, so a tour of his office is probably doable. I'm sure the cleaning crew has been their usual meticulous selves, so it ought to be safe." Dennison got up from his desk and opened the door. "Yes, it's safe. Come on in."

Everyone except for Jeanne Iasan filed in. Jeanne, the youngest daughter of the Iasans, was too busy squaring up Dennison's supposedly-orderly desk. She moved his pad of sticky notes over one thirty-second of an inch. The overall desk plan had been out of square the entire time.

Dennison perked up inside the office. "Who moved my notepad?" he asked. The Paperwork Ninja looked around, doing a quick headcount of the kids.

"Jeanne, come into the office," the Paperwork Ninja said.

"His sticky notes were out of square with the overall efficiency plan of his desktop!" Jeanne said as he walked in. "That is most unacceptable for an exemplar of Administrative Infiltration."

"Jeannie's got a boyfriend," Elizabeth and Martin Iasan, the middle children of the Paperwork Ninja's family sang out.

"Shut up! I do not!" Jeanne said as she hid behind Dennison. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were Dad for a moment."

"I'm not your father, young lady. Just an old colleague of his," Dennison said as he patted the little catgirl on her head.

"I thought you'd outgrown hiding behind me when you argue," the Paperwork Ninja said

Jeanne grabbed something on the back of Dennison's pants. "It's uhm, lint. Not... good."

Elizabeth grinned. "Stop looking at his butt, Jeannie."

The little catgirl burned furiously red with embarrassment. "I wasn't! I just saw lint!"

Wendy Iasan glowered at the two. "Both of you stop talking. Jeanne, go move Mister Dennison's sticky notes back the way you found them."

"But it's out of square," Jeanne whined.

"He has his reasons for it being out of square, so go move it back!" Wendy said.

"Yes, Mom," Jeanne said as she hurried her khaki-skirted self out of the office.

Jeanne composed herself and watched a little as Dennison pointed out a few things to the rest of the family. She moved the notepad back out of square again and returned. Too bad her siblings couldn't see that Dennison was way cooler than Dad.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Misaki had given Claire the instructions needed to get to her temporary apartment. The little studio on the second floor of the apartment complex was appropriately spartan: murphy bed and weapons rack in one corner, stove and refrigerator in another, and a wardrobe in the last corner near the bathroom door. It was much like her apartment in the Cap au Diable, except it was smaller, cleaner, and less likely to be infested by whatever malaise seemed to grip the Isles. The only advice given to her about the interview was "Dress nicely." She'd speak with the Head Administrator's assistant first, then with the Head Administrator himself. Her suit would have to be perfect. It would be at least better than the threadbare jeans and the old t-shirt from her high school.

She was beginning to wonder how bad her work and educational experience would hurt her. She dropped out of high school to run away and kill people in the Rogue Isles. This group seemed likely to overlook the "killing people" part. There was a knock at her door.

Oliver Dennison stood in front of her with a gift basket filled with the things someone might need upon moving in: spray cleaners, paper goods such as plates, towels and napkins, a few cleaning sponges, clothespins and the like.

"Ah, good evening, Emo Catgirl," Dennison said. "I guess I'm sort of what you'd call the welcome wagon here."

The older man kind of reminded Claire of someone. She couldn't figure out who. "Heh, there's no need to call me by my old hero name. I really only used it to hide my hero job from my mother. Please call me Claire, Mister...?" she trailed off.

"Dennison, ah, Oliver Dennison, Special Assistant to the Head Administrator," Dennison said nervously.

"Oh, I thought I'd be interviewing with you at the office," Claire said.

"No, no, my interview is more of a welcome speech, overview, and such. I'm here to help you get used to the place," Dennison said. "Is this an inconvenient time?"

Claire was impressed. He hadn't looked down the entire time, just maintained eye contact with her. "No, no it's not."

"If you'd like, I can show you around town a little and I'd be happy to answer any questions you have. Within reason, of course."

"What's the Head Administrator like?" Claire asked.

"Would you like my opinion or the truth?"

"Both," the girl said.

"Very well," Dennison said. "The facts are that he's a drug-addled former Congressman from California who never expected to see the other side of forty. He's also a walking example of sexual harassment. There's also his inability to see people as anything other than tools. The man is quite the narcissist. Finally, he loves to try avoiding work and would rather be dead than responsible. I think we'd be better served with a more responsible man or woman as Head Administrator. Regardless, our institutions will weather this storm."

"Hmm. That gives me a good idea of how to dress for the interview," Claire said.

"If you try to lure him into offering a you a raise by dressing provocatively, be aware that he's also well-versed in seductive arts. It will backfire," Dennison said.

"Okay, so much for that idea," Claire said. "I'll make sure to dress appropriately, and be able to fight my way out if need be."

"Smart move, miss."

"Once the interview is done, you'll come back to me for the boring administrative part where we'll see what training you need to finish, what divisions may best suit you, things of that nature," Dennison said. "It's boring, but necessary."

"Okay," Claire said. "So, you were going to show me around?"

"Ah, yes! The best way around town is usually by bicycle, and there are a few good models for sale at the shop nearby. The supermarket is also within walking distance, but a bicycle will make the transportation much easier," Dennison said.

"Well, let's get on with it," Claire said as she took the gift basket and set it to one side of the door. She still couldn't think of whom Dennison reminded her.

"Good. Too much idle chitchat can waste time," the Head Administrator's assistant said. "Our first stop will be the IGA," he continued.

"Of course you'd have an IGA here," Claire said.

Dennison grinned. "What self-respecting ninja village wouldn't have a supermarket that caters perfectly to it? Well, let's go."

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Leo sat back down on the bench in the dugout, waiting for his turn at bat. The day hadn't been going well for his team. The umpire wasn't giving either pitcher any more of the plate than allowed by the rules, and the other team's pitcher had better control of his fastball. Leo's pitcher sat down, sweating.

"Hey, Spots," the pitcher said to Leo. "You gonna hit today or what?"

"Working on it, Berries," Leo said. He got nicknamed early in the tryouts and accepted it. At least "Spots" was a better nickname than "Berries." Leo may have had an unusual last name, but at least it wasn't as bad as his pitcher, who was born with the unfortunate last name of Dingle. Kids are cruel like that. "Brody's not giving me any good pitches. He's jammed me twice up by my hands and hasn't hung a thing in my wheelhouse."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a bat putting a ball into a gap in shallow left field. The first batter got a single out of it.

"Try a bunt on this next at-bat. I think we can get Corey over if you drop it right," the young pitcher said.

Leo put his helmet on. "Well, if these next two can get on, I will."

Waiting for your turn at bat can be a long mind game. You have to read the mind of the pitcher and figure out what his patterns are. Then you have to see how the fielders are are going to set up. Finally, you also need to know the catcher's tells for what kind of pitch he's going to call. Everyone has a habit. This catcher was routinely crowding the batter. Leo's job was to process all of that information all at once and the re-process it once the next batter came up. That was every player's job. The problem was that for every variable that could be counted, there were a dozen variables that wouldn't appear until the ball was in play. To make it worse, the unknown variables changed every time the ball moved. Then the variables got mashed up, remixed and shredded because it was up to the umpires to make judgment calls based on what they saw.

In short, baseball is everything happening at once like other sports, just on a far subtler scale. Leo was pretty sure that this is what his father found so intriguing about the game. For the younger Iasan, though, it was a lot of worry and trepidation in pinstripes and stirrup socks. He wasn't a statistics fanatic like his father, and he wasn't an athletic prodigy like his younger brother Martin. In baseball, he didn't feel like he was much of anything, even when the coaches said he was good. He stepped to the on-deck circle and took some practice swings.

There was one out, runners at first and third, and Leo Iasan was 0 for 1 today. He hadn't gotten a hit in the past eight at-bats, either, so he was in a little league slump. He needed something to break out of it.

The pitcher wound up, kicked, stepped and released the ball early; a change-up was heading his way. Leo changed his stance and shifted the bat from above his shoulder to in front of his chest, squaring up with the pitcher. The runner on third bolted for home in an all-or-nothing gamble. Leo made contact and dribbled the ball down the third base line and past the runner. The catcher, pitcher and third baseman all stared dumbly for the critical second needed for the runner to step on home plate and for Leo to gain running speed. The ball landed close enough to the three players' individual areas of responsibility that they couldn't judge who should pick up the ball. The pitcher finally took charge of the situation and picked up the ball to throw it to first. Leo stepped on the bag as the pitcher held his throw.

Iasan got a friendly pat on the shoulder from the first base coach. "Nice suicide squeeze, Spots."

"Thanks, Coach," Leo said.

"The manager will skin you alive if you ever do that again, you know," the coach said.

"I had to break the slump somehow," Leo said.

Leo got his hit, drove in a run, and dented the confidence of the opposing team's pitcher. He took two steps off the bag and watched as the pitch developed. The pitcher wound up then spun to his left to pick Leo off at first. Leo saw the ball hit the first baseman's glove and shot towards second. The best hope was to block the second baseman's view and have him fail to catch the ball. The second baseman caught it, and now Leo was in a run-down situation.

At this point Leo thought "What would Dad do?" Getting tagged out was not an option. He charged the second baseman with a roar and leapt over the other boy. The second baseman missed his tag, having been shocked by Leo's sudden bout of yelling. He set foot on second base, safe.

Leo quickly received the "I'm watching you" signal from his manager. He was going to get a huge lecture about showboating. Leo didn't care. He got his hit.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Grace Iasan stood at the greeter's podium at the Windsor, Paragon City's only maid cafe. She was back for another summer at the manager's request. Grace's only real problem with the job was the stares of the geeks who walked in from the nearby comic shop. That was her problem last time as well and it still got on her nerves to hear their banal conversations about subjects which she did not enjoy. At least she started getting paid more when she took over playing music for the cafe for a couple of days during the week. The usual guitarist got tired of requests for video game music and so he reduced his time at the cafe to only weekends when the clientele was a little more normal.

Grace didn't like having to memorize or transcribe every minor track from the Final Fantasy series to acoustic guitar, but it paid the bills. It also allowed her to wear the glossy black nail polish she loved. It annoyed most adults who saw her wearing it, but she at least could tell them it was to keep her nails from cracking. The polish actually did dry to the hardness of a guitar pick so it wasn't a lie at all. It just seemed like a lie to the adults, but was in reality a win-win situation for the young guitarist. Besides, the extra money was helping her save faster for a mixing board and software for her computer. She had a few ideas on how to add a little extra bass to some of her practice tracks from school.

Now, if only her boyfriend would show up while she was at work. She could use the support.

"Excuse me, miss," one of the patrons said, "I believe this is a mocha latte, and I expressly ordered a mocha latte with caramel drizzle."

Grace looked at the orders list on the computer in front of her. The order said mocha latte for the customer, as did every previous order for this customer.

"Did sir want to try something new with his coffee?" Grace said sweetly.

"I always have a caramel drizzle," the patron said.

"I see. I'll have a new one made for you immediately. I do apologize, sir," Grace said.

"You always mess up my order here, I don't know why I even bother patronizing your establishment," the patron said.

While Grace would have liked to say "Because we're the only place that tolerates corpulent passive-aggressive man-children who demand to be the most overdramatic and most unique snowflakes ever without so much as crippling you for our troubles" she held back. This guy usually did this to get a free scone or marmalade-filled croissant out of the bakery.

"I apologize, sir. How can our humble establishment make this right for you?"

"Bring me a scone and jam. Raspberry. Cold."

"Immediately, sir."

"As a paying customer, I expect service above and beyond the usual level provided here," the patron said as he walked away.

And once again, his hand brushed up against the base of Grace's tail as he dramatically turned and left the greeter's stand to go back to his booth. It was completely accidental, of course.

"Sir?" Grace asked, her ears flattening.

The patron stopped. "What is it now?"

"I'd like to make sir aware of two important facts."

"What are they? My time is important, you know."

"Yes, I know how sir mustn't miss a minute of his questionable streams of current-run anime on his laptop, which is of course using the wi-fi network here for free. But sir has never been a paying customer here. He has been a complaining customer who orders coffee to be made to his exact expectations, then complains when something he did not expressly order in the first place was not added to his coffee. For this, he expects to receive a freshly-made coffee and pastry, all gratis. The owner has been very kind to sir and while no reciprocation is expected it is appreciated. In short, you've never been a paying customer, just someone who leeches off our good natures." Grace's tail was twitching madly as she spoke.

The patron shrugged. "You caught me. So what?"

"Our establishment's owner has been more than kind to you. Perhaps sir will consider actually paying for a coffee once in his life."

"If you make it how I want it in the first place, I might."

"Then it is up to sir to order it properly the first time. Sadly, we humble maids are not telepaths."

"Whatever. I'm going back to my booth. Just fix the problem or there will be Hell to pay. Do you understand? People listen to me at the Android's Dungeon Comic and Game Shop. I can stop the flow of customers like that," the patron said with a snap of his fingers.

"I'm sure, sir," Grace said coolly. "But there is a second thing I mentioned, sir."

"What? I'm busy. The window of opportunity to watch Magical Girl Terappu-chan is closing even as we speak. If I miss those shows, I will hold you personally responsible!"

"If sir ever tries to cop a feel again, he'll find his greasy, clammy, chubby hand in an uncomfortable place faster than he can say 'self-induced metacarpally-manipulated prostate exam' and I trust that sir doesn't wish that to happen." Grace's tail twitched faster.

"Perhaps I should speak to your manager for such insolence," the patron sniffed.

"She's standing right next to you," Grace said. "Go ahead."

Lady Julienne, the owner of the Windsor, stood next to her erstwhile patron. She'd silently walked just outside of his peripheral vision and startled him. "Bryan, we keep detailed records on our customers so we can know what they like and what to suggest when they arrive. You, however are in a special file all your own. You've been mooching from my business for months now. Whether it's wi-fi or coffee, you have to stop. My hospitality towards your attitude is at its end. You will not be receiving a free coffee or pastry. You will instead pay for your latte, drink it, and leave. My girls are also locating your computer's MAC address and blocking it. You're killing my bandwidth and making it difficult to use for others."

"You can't do that! I'm a paying customer!"

"You're a moocher, Bryan. I don't like that. Your friends all pay, your fellow gamers all pay when they play their little D&D games here. In fact, they usually settle the bill immediately upon receipt of their drinks and snacks. You just come in and leech off of their good will and mine. I don't care what they allow you to do outside my establishment, but here you're going to be subject to stricter rules than they are. Why? You haven't paid for anything," Lady Julienne said.

"Perhaps I should take my money and go elsewhere, then," the patron said. "My colleagues will undoubtedly follow me!"

Lady Julienne looked around. "It looks more like everyone is avoiding eye contact with you. Could it be that you're embarrassing them with this outburst?"

"I am leaving!" the patron said while not going anywhere. He did stamp his foot for effect, though, but it seemed to make the other patrons look at him, shrug and turn away. "And it's clear that no decent games will be run without me here, you all know that!" he said, pointing at one group of gamers in the corner.

"Stuff it, Bryan," came a voice from that group. "Go home."

"I cannot believe you let other patrons talk to me in this manner!" the patron said to Lady Julienne. "This is a hostile environment and I will seek legal retribution!"

"I have Chris Jenkins on retainer," Lady Julienne said. "So if you must sue, please go right ahead without a worry for my representation."

The patron shrunk back a little. "Perhaps I've been a bit hasty."

"Perhaps you should pay your bill and leave this establishment. Perhaps you should also find a new place to frequent until you can behave like a proper master who doesn't abuse his staff."

"Yes, that may be best for all concerned," the patron said.

Julienne waited for the patron to open his wallet. "If you ever touch the staff like you did here a moment ago, I'll have you arrested if you're lucky. If you're not lucky, you'll be sent home missing a hand. I keep records of customers. I also keep backups of video camera footage for the safety of both patrons and my employees. You're already in the moocher file. Don't get 'pervert' and 'smells like old cabbage' added to that file, too."

The patron slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the greeter's podium. "This is the last time I shall deign to patronize this establishment, and my friends will know to never return as well!"

The patron was answered by an obscene gesture (in the original Klingon, no less) from the inhabitant of another booth. "Keep the change" he grumbled as he stalked out of the cafe.

Lady Julienne looked around the cafe's crowd. "I apologize, sirs, but even the maids of the Windsor have limits to the indignities they will suffer in the name of customer service. Should anyone have problems with this, they are kindly asked to speak with me."

None of the remaining patrons looked up from their laptops.

"Thank you, Lady Julienne," Grace said with a curtsy. "I was afraid I would speak further out of turn and outside the boundaries of good decorum with him."

"It happens, Grace. Please contact me again if there are further problems."

"At once, Lady Julienne."

Grace returned to the greeter's podium. At least the old cabbage smell was finally going away.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

(( Fan*tastic*. ))

_________________
"Do your best and let the rest work itself out."
Doctor Void - Dr. Wretched - Impact Tower - Jackie Bones - MerryGoRound - Bella Facade - Dark Anima - Choose - many others.

The disgruntled patron sat outside the Windsor cafe, trying to leech the establishment's wi-fi one last time and watch his streamed cartoons.

"Stupid women, causing all this trouble. I'm a paying customer. They can't talk to me like this," he grumbled. "Trying to interrupt my viewing of Magical Girl Terappu-chan, why anyone would dare deny me is beyond me."

He sat back and listened to the show, scanning the subtitles at the bottom of the screen.

"Ah! Before we go any further, Junichi-kun, Terappu-chan must tell you something important!" the magical girl's lines read at the bottom of the screen. The slender, very underdeveloped girl began to remove her clothing. The former patron of the Windsor leaned in.

"Better not be censored," he said to himself. "I hate it when that hap- GOOD LORD THAT'S A PENIS!" the patron yelled at the top of his lungs as he flung the laptop off of his lap in a manner most public. "AAAAGH! That's a boy in girl's clothing!"

Everyone on the street stared. A group of Outcasts stopped trying to break into a bus shelter to look at the jowly otaku who just shouted the word 'penis' on a well-traveled street.

"It's clear that you don't speak Japanese, sir," Grace said as she poked her head outside the doors of the Windsor to chastise the former patron, "but certainly sir would know about the concept of traps in modern manga before he began downloading a stream of a series with 'Terappu' in its name?"

"But that's not how it looked in the stills I found," the former patron said.

"Perhaps sir could also not shout the names of genitals in public, or at least do so around a store that may cater to such tastes? Our establishment doesn't. Please leave the premises before we call the local constabulary."

The former patron gathered up his stricken laptop and scurried away from the cafe with a red face full of shame and embarrassment. Grace watched as the man tried to make himself invisible despite not having any talent for it; very few people can make themselves invisible while wearing a replica of the Fourth Doctor's scarf in June.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Meanwhile, in Nebraska...

The last scheduled customer for the day was done, so Leo scoured the tub clean of dog scent and refilled it with cold water. He switched the air pump on to create a nice stream of bubbles.

"Gosh, that looks inviting," a girl's voice said bear him.

Leo was already away from the pump and into a fighting stance. "Don't pop up in my blind spot like that, you- wait, who are you?"

"I'm Claire. Misaki and her team brought me here. I got hired by the Head Administrator," Claire said as she eyed the boy up and down. The spots on his face and arms weren't acne, more like the mackerel spots of a tabby cat. He was wearing ill-fitting jeans, as the cuffs were already above his ankles. His t-shirt was a bit stretched, too. So he was probably going through a growth spurt. His stance was somewhere between a boxer and wrestler, so he likely trained in some form of mixed martial arts. He was scanning her hands and eyes, deliberately keeping his eyes off of her cleavage. She got into as non-aggressive of a stance as she could without losing any assertiveness. "Like I said, it looks like you have a nice cold whirlpool here. Mind if I get my swimsuit and get in?" she asked, leaning forward a little.

"You're the new hire? Rumor has it you really cleaned up in the Isles," Leo said. "Rumor also has it you dropped out during your sophomore year so you're here for remedial high school classes.

Claire scowled. "It's no rumor. I have to finish high school on time as part of my employment contract, so I've been doing nothing but studying since I got here."

Leo shrugged. "It's okay. We get a lot of ninja-in-laws here who dropped out of school. This is kind of a safe haven for them."

"Ninja-in-law?"

Leo tested the water with his hand. "It's what we call people who have had obvious ninja training, but it was never done formally or they never completed training and wound up using only half of what they really knew. Lots of vigilantes get their start that way."

"So there's no stigma about not having gone here all your life?" Claire asked.

"Well, you won't blend in immediately, but eventually you will. Besides, I'm a ninja-in-law, too. I came here with my brothers and sisters. Dad said it was too dangerous back home, so we came here to formally learn what he used to have to sneak behind Mom's back."

"Where are you from?" Claire asked.

Leo smiled. "Paragon City, just like you. In fact, we have a lot of mutual friends."

Claire smirked. "Name one."

"Hephaestus 1," Leo said.

"Ah, he knows everybody. Try again."

"How about the Cobalt Claymore?" Leo asked.

"Ugh, you know that pompous ass?" Claire grumbled.

"That's no way to talk about your former sensei."

"Wait, how did you- oh, right, ninja spy network." Claire shrugged. "Yeah, he and my brother are all buddy-buddy. He wouldn't teach me any assassination techniques."

"You seemed to pick them up fine. The Maehara clan style you learned is good for teaching that through just daily activities. Very subtle. Just holding a pen a certain way while taking notes can ready you to kill someone with a flick of the wrist."

"He didn't teach me the Maehara style. He taught me what he learned from his dad about intelligence gathering, commando-style fighting and whatnot."

"Oh, right. His dad was the Gunslinger turned sword-swinger. That explains his mix of Italian and German sword techniques and the mix of boxing and jiu-jutsu. He's Maehara by blood, though," Leo said.

"Yeah, but I'm not here to talk work," Claire said, "I'm here to see if I can take a dip in your pool." She leaned over the edge of the tub for effect. "Mind if I relax a little?"

"I can see why Grandpa hired you," Leo said. "good fighting skills and huge tits."

"They're only E-cups, for crying out loud!" Claire said.

"Okay, they're the biggest I've seen, and Grandpa has sent me into situations where I've seen lots of naked women in some attempt to either have me seduced or make me die of embarrassment," Leo said, folding his arms over his chest. "Wait. Grandpa sent you here, didn't he?"

"Your grandpa is the Head Administrator?" Claire asked.

"Yes, unfortunately. He's a real douchebag, but he's been super nice lately. He says it's because his wife is about to give birth to their first baby."

"He's married?"

"Yeah. It was that or start a war with- well, it's a long weird story, but yes, he's married. Have you seen that squat, square-backed woman whose hair that frizzes out at the first sign of rain?" Leo asked.

"The one who looks like a female version of Nathan Explosion from Dethklok but with William Murderface's hair?"

"Yes! That's his wife."

"He has sex with her?"

"Well, twice, at least. One of those times got her pregnant. He was going to try foisting the baby off on Mom and Dad, but says he had a change of heart. I don't believe him, even if he is my grandpa."

"Oh, wow, I- dammit! I'm not here to talk shop! I want to get into my swimsuit and cool off in the pool here! Do you mind?"

"Well," Leo said, "I was gonna soak for a while and hang out here with my friend Ganbaru until I had to go to baseball practice, but I guess so."

"Ganbaru? What kind of name is that for a kidayearrrrrrrgh!" Claire squeaked as a wet nose pressed against her back and made snuffling noises.

"That's Ganbaru. He's my dog, my dog team partner, and my friend."

Claire turned around to look at the German Shepherd behind her.

"He's also good at sneak attacks while the target is distracted," Leo said.

Ganbaru smiled and thumped his tail on the ground.

"Is he going to get in the pool?" Claire asked.

"Nah, I just washed him. He's not going to get in there for a while."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Claire said as she ran to her apartment.

Leo scratched the dog gently between his ears. "No, buddy, she's not my type. She doesn't have a dog."

Ganbaru harrumphed in agreement.

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.

Such is the life of a Paperwork Ninja that he must suffer fools gladly. This day in his life was no different. Yet another young hero with a poor choice of names arrived at his desk for Level 2 Heroic Identification Counseling.

"Good afternoon, Staten Island Project," the Paperwork Ninja said. "My name is Nemo and I'll be helping you go through Heroic Identity Counseling. I see you'd like to change your name to something more physics related?"

"No doubt," the man in the Affliction-emblazoned lab coat said is he scratched at a spot he found on his huge gold neck chain. "I said I wanted something that was historical yet showed my roots as a guy who hung out on the Shore, right? But this name just isn't cool enough. So I wanna change it."

"Well, you'll need to come up with at least three alternates. One won't be enough," the Paperwork Ninja said.

"No way. That name is too good not to use. It's a perfect name to pick up the ladies, am I right?"

"Would you like me to check that with my wife?" the Paperwork Ninja asked, showing a picture of his catgirl doctor wife.

"That's fine if you don't mind losing her to the man with the best name in being a hero," the Staten Island Project said. "'Cause I'm gonna tap that before the ink on your divorce papers are dry. No brag, just fact."

"I'll put it on speaker phone if you don't mind," the Paperwork Ninja said. "Hello, honey? Can you hear us all right?"

"You sound good from here, Nemo," Wendy said.

"My client here has requested a name change and is pretty vehement about it. I wanted a sample of the people he was trying to impress," the Paperwork Ninja said.

"Catgirls?"

"Married women, apparently," he said.

"Sorry, but you'll need to move once you hear this, babe. Your boy here won't let you stay, and you won't want to either," the Staten Island Project said.

"What's the old name?" Wendy asked.

"You're listening to the Staten Island Project!" the physicist/douchebag said.

"Okay, that's not bad, really. Historical reference, geographical reference as a way to identify your home, it's a clever play on a name, too. So, what's the new name?"

"It's perfect. Call me the Large Hardon Collider from now on. When I collide with you, you'll be all 'Oh, LHC! Do it again!'"

Wendy gave it her best college try, but burst out laughing. Her laugh was loud and distinctive enough that other members of the Paperwork Ninja's staff poked their heads over the cubicle walls. "SERIOUSLY? You're naming yourself after the gay bar for the Mad Scientists and Mad Engineers over on the Boardwalk in Talos?" she asked.

"What?" the Staten Island Project sputtered.

"That is the dumbest name I've ever heard a nuclear-fueled hero ask for in a long, long time." Wendy said. "You're living proof that being good at math doesn't automatically give you good taste."

"But my robot girlfriend SNOOK-E said it was awesome..."

"Wait, you're cheating on your robot girlfriend?" Nemo asked. "I thought once you went metal, you'd no longer settle."

"Uhm, it's a long story," the Staten Island Project said, popping his collar to hide most of his embarrassment. Fortunately for him, he'd been so over-tanned that he just turned a slightly deeper shade of orange.

"Well, I don't really want to hear it. But you've got the opinion of a relatively average member of your target audience. Still want that name change?"

"Not if you're gonna laugh about it," the Staten Island Project said.

"Good. You've saved yourself a near-eternity of shame, young man," the Paperwork Ninja said. "We're done here if you have no further questions."

_________________
DocSaluki - @jchinds

Yes, I'm the madman behind the 575 pounds of awesome that is Hephaestus 1. (He's not gone, as long as you keep him in your heart!) I'm not responsible for your nightmares or broken minds, though.

So long, Providence, Hello, Detroit.