Dr. Claw, evil mastermind, controller of MAD, sender of Hell to every major city on the globe, snarled where he stood, while molten popcorn butter licked down his hand, courtesy of some insufferable little creature staring at him. He might have dispatched this particular annoyance, but he didn't have time to deal with the onlookers, so cooked his hand must be, until he reached the counter, anyway. At least his prosthetic could not feel pain the same way as other parts of his body could.

The only reason he was in this infernal line in this wretched theater was to spot his man and hand deliver his instructions. This particular mission was too important and time sensitive to handle any other way but the most precisely careful. Forced to wait his turn, move forward only when the one before him did, like some kind of animal in a pen, he found it difficult to find his agent in the crowd.

When at last the charade of buying snacks was complete, he tore away from the line and made a ferocious bee line for one small and shaking man waiting by one of the theater entrances, his shirt already soaked with cola. The evil genius stabbed his straw into his mouth and strolled past the man, seemingly oblivious, except that he tossed a wadded napkin in the trash by him. As Claw entered the room, the man fished it out; if anyone noticed him, no one stopped him from leaving, orders in hand.

Dr. Claw's phone was tucked snug in his breast pocket, hidden beneath a thin, slim jacket. He'd know the first phase of the job was done when he received a buzzing signal right through the chest. His teeth were grit and his hand curling into a fist around his soda as he shoved past other patrons to find a seat. He'd just started the mission with that fateful toss of the napkin, but he didn't feel much better. Now was the time for relentless waiting and brooding and worrying, despite the many precautions he always took. He reminded himself, as he dropped into a seat, that he should get the signal before the end of the film.

As the previews played, he relaxed, stretching his legs out, both arms on the rests. The theater was filling up all around him-except for the two seats he sat between. Someone tripped over his boot trying to pass and Claw just gave him a death glare till he slunk back where he came from.

Soda in one of the cup rests, he fished out a flask from a jacket pocket and took a good swig.

"You shouldn't bring that in here," someone whispered the moment one of the previews ended.

That voice…! It seized Claw's attention despite all careful self-discipline. It was, of course, Inspector Gadget, the only person who could possibly throw the careful, calculating, man off his game for a dangerous moment. Even in the darkness of the theater, he could immediately recognize his nemesis as he slipped into the seat beside him.

He realized he hadn't answered him. Harshly, Claw grunted, "Excuse me?"

"The alcohol," Gadget leaned closer to respond, since now another preview was blaring its noise in competition. "It's a bad influence on the kids."

Claw clenched the arm rest as he felt his mortal enemy's breath at his ear, a rush of sensation he simply wasn't expecting tonight. It only fueled his hate. However, he bit down the first response that came to mind, and then answered sidelong but loud enough to hear, "Now I'm responsible for the morality of children." He added a mirthless guffaw.

Again, the inspector leaned in, way more than he needed to even with the ambient noise, Claw thought, just to say, "No, just your own. But you're a lot more visible than you think."

Claw threw the nosy man a look, heart speeding up a moment at what he perceived to be a threat. But Gadget had a soft, mild smile on his face and seemed simply interested in trying to get a better look at him. As far as Claw knew, no one could yet agree on what he looked like. A stranger could see his face with no consequence. It was with others of his own circle he had to be more secretive. Any one of them could hold a photo of him for a king's ransom.

"What are you going to do," he rasped, turning his face fully to Gadget, who reacted only with a slight widening of the eyes. "Arrest me?"

He watched Gadget carefully as he chuckled and turned back to the movie for a moment, smiling. Claw's eyes were still on him when he said, "No, not today, Sir. But-!"

Claw's fingers dug into the armrest. He couldn't believe his nerves, and believed even less the source of this anxiety, exacerbated by the fact that he still hasn't received the signal from his agent. He also couldn't eject the suspicion that this was all just a trap.

"But?"

"I'm not actually here for the movie; I'm on police business," Gadget was all too happy to explain, and he had to do it practically resting against Claw's arm, to be heard over the movie dialogue. Some people hushed him, but he didn't notice. He went on, "You haven't seen any suspicious looking characters creeping around here, have you?"

Claw was already calculating multiple escape routes within, acting cool without. He leaned his head closer to Gadget with a, "Say again?"

By now they were huddled against each other in the darkness, Claw able to feel the other man's hair brushing against his skin when he turned his head, the brim of his hat crushing gently against his head, even the briefest touch of a gloved hand against his shoulder. Practically whispering in his ear, Gadget repeated his question, to which Claw finally acted like he understood.

"No, I don't think I have," he said, his face turned towards the screen. He glanced side long at him. "But I'll keep an eye out."

Gadget started to answer when suddenly a light blasted in their faces. Reflexively Gadget turned towards it, shielding his eyes with a hat gadget-now the people behind really started grumbling-and demanded an explanation. It was an usher. And could the gentlemen please be quiet and enjoy the movie?

Gadget apologized and when the usher left, he turned to Claw-but the seat was empty beside him.

Claw was by then in flight. How he managed to slip past the people beside him so quickly is his own mystery; this wasn't the first time he had slip out of somewhere in a desperate hurry. He couldn't take the chance of contacting anyone, and still the buzz did not come. He was convinced the agent had been picked up and was pondering the risk of just walking out of the theater right then. Needing to think, but not wanting to look like some "suspicious character," he threw some quarters into a pinball machine in the lobby. He deconstructed his master plan as he slammed the controls and snarled at the tiny balls, formulating contingency plans for his contingency plans.

"There you are!"

Claw forced himself into a state of calm and turned his face to Gadget, who looked so genuinely pleased Claw simply didn't know what to make of it. Was he taunting him? he thought. This time Claw did not pull an innocent act, but stepped away from the machine and confronted the inspector, who did not even take a step back or allow the shine in his eyes to dwindle. "How did you…?"

"Your bracelets," Gadget said casually, gesturing to the spiked bands around Claw's wrists, just barely visible from beneath the sleeves of his jacket. Amazingly, he'd forgotten to switch his usual spiked ones for something less conspicuous, though he'd remembered to wear gloves.

Claw touched his wrist reflexively and grunted. He allowed himself to chuckle, though it felt and sounded quite awkward, unnatural. Gadget took it with amusement.

"So did you change your mind?" Claw dared to ask, his harsh voice decorated by amusement of his own. "Couldn't let me get away, is that it?"

Gadget laughed, "Not without making sure you're alright…" he paused and gave him expectant eyes. "Mr…?"

Claw fought through the temptation to freeze up and blurted the first name he thought of, "Just call me Damien."

"Alright, Damien," Gadget said, hesitating before adding, "You can call me Gus."

Claw wondered if that was an easy alias, but either way he nodded softly in acknowledgement. "Well, Gus," he said as he schemed. "If you're not too strapped down, would you have time for a coffee with a bored old man? That film was ghastly; I need to be distracted from it." His words came out easily, somehow soft even with the rasp; Gadget seemed attentive enough, anyway.

"I could use a jolt," Gadget replied in a free, easy tone. "I checked the place again while I was looking for you; there's no need to remain here."

Claw replied with a smile, though it was mainly for show. By now they were heading for the door, which Claw held open for him. The sky had turned dark with puffy, silver clouds streaked across it. He took the risk of offering an arm to the inspector, and it was taken. Claw smiled a second time, this time concealed and more genuine. Unless things turned sour, it looked like he'd escaped danger once again, and now he had the opportunity to learn more about his arch-nemesis than he ever could have hoped.

As before he let Gadget through the door first and the two of them approached the counter, looking perfectly like old friends. Claw repressed a laugh at the very idea, wishing he could see the ridiculous sight for himself. He ordered and paid for them both, without bothering to formally offer, which Gadget silently allowed.

Coffees in hand, Claw led them to the table farthest away from everyone and they enjoyed their drinks in pleasant silence for a while. "Thank you, Damien," Gadget said.

"Of course, Gus," Claw replied, voice tinged with actual amusement. Even now he still held out the dread that Gadget would betray his trust, but every passing second his focus slipped further from that fear. He wished more than once in a few minutes that they were sitting closer.

He focused on the opportunity, chasing away other thoughts as extraneous. Not like he hadn't had them before, but now was not the time. It would never be the time, he was sure. And chances were he'd never get this physically close to him again. "Forgive my asking," he began with a coy edge to his voice, a slight shrug of one shoulder. "But do you…"

A sharp, furious little vibration erupted in his breast pocket, cutting off his words. "I have to get this, I'm sorry…" he reached into his pocket and started to get up...but Gadget clasped his arm. His grip was startlingly strong, especially with such a naked look of entreaty in his eyes.

"Don't leave," he blurted. "Go ahead, answer it right here."

Claw decided he would leave anyway, but indulged the inspector by remaining in his seat as he looked at the phone screen. He managed to prevent much of his emotion on his face, but showed enough for Gadget to lean in closer, as concerned and nosey as ever.

It was not the guy. Chances were his guy had been picked up, if after all this time still no signal. He could have pounded the table into splinters in frustration but Gadget's unwavering gaze was more than enough of a deterrent. It wasn't the guy, but that didn't mean Claw wanted to talk to the person it was, especially not now. Teeth gritted, he answered. Gadget looked ready to crawl into his lap just to hear, so he decided it'd be easier to put it on speaker.

"Well if it isn't my favorite nephew," he said in a tone far too sweet to be believed by the caller. But it seemed to convince Gadget.

"Uhh...ok…" Talon's voice croaked over the phone's speaker. "Is this a bad time, Uncle-"

"Never for you!" Claw interrupted harshly. "What can I do for you?" More synthetic sweetness.

Another pause, but eventually Talon spoke again, his voice more guarded, "Your uh...friend...is here."

At this Gadget's eyebrows shot up.

"From work," Claw said automatically to Gadget. To Talon he said, "Excellent! Make sure he's fed and comfortable. I'm busy at the moment."

"Busy? You said this was priority-"

"And it is," Claw snapped, his usual demeanor returning in a flash, to wipe itself away the next instant. "But we still have time."

"Well how much time-"

"Later," Claw finalized. "I'll be home later." He snapped the phone closed and put it back against his breast.

Gadget had been watching, and Claw had been watching him. It might have unnerved him, if Claw didn't already know the other man's investigative nature, to put it kindly. "You're an uncle?" he beamed, just as Claw drew breath to say something. "So am I!"

Claw had a metaphorical light bulb moment. He threw a gaze at Gadget that would make anyone else squirm, his growing smile more like a toothy gash. "Are you?"

Claw could not remember a moment watching the inspector on his monitors that he'd seen him look so proud; he'd never seen his eyes quite like that. He found himself leaning closer, though he could hear perfectly well.

"Yes, my niece is just wonderful," Gadget extolled. "So sharp! She's always getting into things; it was a daily circus when she was small." He fell into a peal of laughter...that he abruptly cut off.

Claw all but gripped the table, suddenly as anxious as Gadget looked right then. Gadget stared intently at a spot just behind Claw, then whipped around in his seat, as if trying to catch a moving sight. Claw got up as Gadget did, and they both disturbed patrons as they rushed out, Gadget in the lead.

"Ga-Gus!" Claw shouted, grabbing the man's arm without quite thinking. For a moment he marvelled at the sensation; despite what he'd seen this man do, the arm he held felt like flesh and blood. The bone felt stronger than most, however.

Gadget winced slightly and turned around to face him, looking keyed up, wild eyed, but quick to throw his "date" a smile. "I'm sorry, Damien, I can't stay any longer," he said as he pulled his arm free. Claw didn't make it easy, but he didn't force the issue, either. "Let's do it again." He crushed against Claw for a flurried moment and pressed a kiss against his cheek. The next instant, he was gone.

Claw's phone buzzed against his chest, but it took an entire 1.42 seconds for him to answer. "What is it?"

"Are you alone?" came Talon's sarcastic snarl.

"Speak, you buffoon!"

"I'll take that as a yes. Well I hate to interrupt...whatever that was...but we've got a situation here."

Claw was heading for the theater parking lot. Several people jumped, not walked, out of his way. "Stop wasting my time, what happened?"

"He's dead."

A million worries flooded his mind, but he dared not discuss any of them over the phone, not even this burner. He answered by hanging up, and mulled over the past few hours as he slipped in his car and took off.