A/n: So I'm trying my hand at writing a bit of Shezow fanfic. Found it on tv recently and can't stop watching it's so funny. Please let me know if you like the fic and want to see more! I've got a rough idea what I want to happen in this. Also, feel free to let me know if I make any mistakes as I've only seen about half of the episodes.

Boxter Hamden snuck into the abandoned warehouse. All seemed quiet, but they had received reports of power being used at the site, as well as strange lights and sounds. If someone was trespassing on the property, it would be up to the police to remove them.

"Hello, anyone there? This is the police!" his partner, Officer Wackerman, called out.

Boxter winced. "Just give us away, why don't you?" he whispered harshly. "Go on, you check the back."

"You sure it's a good idea to split up?"

"It's probably just a couple of hobos found themselves a power point to use, or something. But be careful."

Boxter moved forward quietly, watching the shadows. An owl alighted from a rafter with a hoot and a flap of feathers. He tensed, then let out a pent up breath. He hated pulling night shift. The only plus was idiots like SheZow rarely seemed to stick their oar in after dark. Maybe teenage superheroes had a curfew or something. The downside was it was just that little bit more dangerous out at night. Boxter didn't like the added risk he might not make it home to his family.

The sound of a heavy industrial click brought him fully alert. "Wonderful," Boxter muttered. That wasn't the sound of hobos charging their iPhones.

He slipped his handgun from its holster and moved cautiously forward. Part of the warehouse was separated by a half-up roller door. Through the gap at its base a light had flickered on and now shone through. Boxter carefully ducked under the door and slipped into the darkened cover of a fifty-five gallon oil drum.

Against the far wall an immense robot stood. Boxter's eyes widened. Forty feet of towering steel was illuminated in the harsh fluorescent light. A hatch some six feet high was open in its chest. For the moment the machine remained silent, a dead giant.

Movement. A man in a white lab coat and wild, frizzy hair came into view.

"Finally, my darling," the man said. There was no one else in the room; he was addressing the machine. "All you need is your final, organic component. And then we shall have our revenge on those fools at LabTech for firing me! They won't know what hit them!"

"Crack pot," Boxter muttered. This was all he needed tonight.

The man moved to a glittering, blinking control panel and began to push buttons. The robot began to hum, the sound building as its systems charged.

That couldn't be good. Boxter stepped out from behind the oil drum. "Alright, buddy, hold it right there."

The scientist whirled around with surprising speed. "Don't try to stop me!" he spat as he located the cop. "I will have my revenge. Even if I have to destroy all of Megadale!"

"Yeah, see that last bit is going to be a problem." Boxter moved slowly across the concrete floor, his handgun held loosely, pointed at the floor but still clearly visible. "Why don't you shut that thing down?"

"No."

"Hey, I'm not asking here!"

"I said no!" In a streak of movement the man reached under his lab coat. Suddenly he had a gun in his hand and a crack rang out across the warehouse.

Boxter felt a sting through his right bicep. But then his training took over. His own gun cracked twice and the scientist dropped to the floor.

Boxter slowly lowered his gun. For a moment, the world slowed, and all he could hear was his own breathing and the hammering of his heart. Then he became aware of the sting in his arm. He grunted and checked his sleeve. The material was torn through and a red line had been slashed through his skin. Barely more than a scratch.

Boxter turned his attention to the fallen man and swallowed hard.

"Hamden!" his radio squawked. "I heard gunshots. Are you alright?"

Boxter knelt beside the man, his handgun still drawn, and checked for a pulse. Nothing. "Damn it," he said quietly. But he'd had no choice.

Right?

"Answer your bloody radio!"

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to keep the shake out of his voice. He'd used his gun before, sure. Never actually put someone down with it though. "I found our disturbance. I've got a man down here…"

"Okay, I'm coming. And I'll call an ambulance."

Boxter didn't bother to tell him that would do little good.

Something whirred above him and Boxter spun around. The immense robot had come alive. It took a single step forward and before Boxter could even raise his gun it reached a hand towards him, knocked the gun clean from his grasp and threw him to the ground. Cables snaked out and around him, dragging him towards the open hatch. Boxter let out a yell that was cut short as the cables squeezed every ounce of air out of him. And then everything went black.

Guy Hamdon sat bolt upright in his bed, heart pounding in the darkness. He drew in a deep breath, then let out a sigh as his brain fully woke and he realised where he was.

"Just a dream, Guy," he muttered blearily. No, his dad wasn't in trouble – not being attacked be a looming dark shape as he had imagined.

He began to roll back over, then sat up straight again. It couldn't be his She.S.P, could it? Did that even work when he wasn't SheZow? In his half-awake state, Guy couldn't remember. He tugged at his pyjamas absentmindedly, just to check he hadn't muttered 'you go, girl' in his sleep. Nope.

Grumbling to himself, mostly about confusing superpowers and too-tight leggings, Guy rolled over and fell back to sleep almost instantaneously.