Chapter Nine

"A person wrapped up in himself makes a pretty small package."

-Henry Emerson Fosdick

For the next twenty-three months, life fell into a pattern for the VP and his colleagues. Cogs took over Toon buildings. Toons took them back. Toons blew up Cogs; Cogs saddened Toons. The VP fell off the launchpad, the CFO got run over by the train, and the Chief Justice sniffed and wandered off to his chambers.

Somewhere deep inside him, the VP knew it couldn't go on this way forever - that it would eventually change. But the time that it had been this way was almost longer than the time it hadn't been this way, and he was used to it. He just couldn't picture things changing anytime soon.

That was why, when he received a letter from the Chairman, summoning him to Bossbot Headquarters, it surprised him. He had almost forgotten that the Bossbots didn't have a leader yet.

The VP glanced at the letter again. Well, apparently they had a leader now.

The area where Bossbot Headquarters was located was an open, green-grassed field not yet occupied by Toons. The sky seemed to stretch on forever, one endless shade of blue. The just-as-green-as-the-grass trees stood straight up, their tops pointed toward the sky as if they were proud of themselves.

All the colors were so bright and cheery - so Toony, the VP thought with disgust. He brought a hand up to shield his face from the sun, and his eyes landed on something. Peeking from between two trees, he caught a glimpse of something black and somber-looking.

The VP felt a smile spread across his face. There it was! And he'd found it all by himself.

He rolled forward, slamming himself in the face with several branches. And instead of having leaves like nice, normal trees, these had little green needly things growing on them, so the branches' slaps hurt. The VP tried ducking under the branches and rolling, but that nearly landed him on his face on the ground.

Once he finally got through the trees, he just stood there. And stared.

Right in front of him was a huge, black castle. Its towering tops pointed toward the sky, even prouder than the trees. Its shadow seemed to say, You are not worthy to enter. But go ahead. I dare you.

The VP swallowed hard and accepted that dare. The inside of the castle was even gloomier than the outside. He was now in a dry, brown courtyard with only a few green patches here and there. He spotted several mysterious little tan cars with flags on the back of them sitting in front of long, dark tunnels. Where do they go? he wondered.

The VP turned around slowly to take in the rest of the sights, but stopped when he felt bony fingers brush against his arm. He was sure his heart stopped beating.

It's a ghost!

Wrenching his arm away so fast he nearly fell over backwards, the VP whipped around to see what had tried to grab him. His breath hissed out in relief when he saw it was just a tree - or what used to be a tree.

In fact, there were lots of them, scattered aimlessly around the courtyard. They were black and shriveled, their bare, scrawny branches bending toward the ground like the heads of saddened Toons. A breeze swept the yard just then, and the branches rose up and clawed at the air - as if they were crying for help.

The VP shuddered. Suddenly he didn't want to be here anymore - at least not by himself - and he bolted toward the first door he saw, which seemed to lead into the biggest tower of all. He slammed the door behind him and let out a soft fear-whine.

"Nice welcoming place, huh?"

The VP's shoulders jerked practically above his head in surprise before he recognized the CFO's voice - and the haughty sniff that followed it. Sure enough, when he turned around, both of his colleagues were seated at a long, expensive-looking table covered by a maroon, even-more-expensive-looking tablecloth.

The VP waved. "Hi."

One side of the CFO's mouth tilted up. "Hello."

The Chief Justice nodded. "Salutations."

"Huh?" came out before the VP could help himself.

The Chief Justice sighed. Luckily, the CFO cut in before he could start talking. "It's a fancy way of saying, 'Hello.'"

"Oh." The VP took his seat at the table. "Then why didn't he just say that?"

The CFO grunted. "Because it makes him sound smart."

"I am smart." The Chief Justice stuck his nose into the air.

The CFO shrugged. He didn't act as angry about the Chief Justice upstaging them as he had almost two years ago, the VP had noticed. But the CFO still didn't seem to like the Lawbot boss much - and the feeling seemed mutual.

The sound of a door creaking open yanked the VP out of his thought-world and back into Bossbot Headquarters. The Chairman was entering the room, reaching the table in only two steps.

He pulled back his chair and sat down, but he didn't fold his fingers over his belly the way he normally did. His eyes were bright in a way the VP hadn't seen them in a long, long time - since about the first week of the VP's life. This must have been something big, then, to make the Chairman look like that.

"Greetings, my employees," the Chairman rumbled.

"Hello," the CFO said. The Chief Justice, of course, sniffed, and something pinged in the VP's mind. He had an idea of a way to impress the Chairman.

"Salutations!" he blurted out.

The Chairman's eyebrows went up, and the VP felt his chest get warm. It hadn't felt that way for a long, long time either.

"As you know," the Chairman went on as if nothing had happened, "when I first began building you gentlemen, I obviously concentrated too much on brawn and not enough on brain." He pointed his eyes at the VP, who blinked at him. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and he sure didn't know what it had to do with him.

His colleagues evidently did, however, because the Chief Justice sniffed again and the CFO snickered under his breath. There was never such a lonely feeling, the VP decided, as being the only one in the room who didn't understand something.

"As a result, your new colleague is a tad smaller than you three, but he is quick, clever, and ruthless." The Chairman's eyes gleamed, and the smile that spread over his face made the VP cringe. He didn't know exactly what "ruthless" meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn't a good thing.

The door creaked open again, and in rolled another robot on treads. The Chairman was right - he looked a couple of feet shorter than VP, the CFO, and the Chief Justice. But fear shuddered up the VP's spine at the sight of him.

The robot's head was shaped like a bag of golf clubs, with several greenish crystals around his mouth. A strange-looking hat lay sideways on his head. He wore a dark green vest over a not-quite-white shirt, and he clutched a golf club tightly in one hand.

But none of that was what scared the VP. No, it was his eyes, harder than rocks, with an evil gleam in them. And the toothy sneer he was currently flashing around the room. He looked like he could bash all three of their heads in with that golf club - and enjoy every minute of it.

When the VP glanced at his colleagues, he saw it wasn't just him thinking that. The CFO's eyes were narrowed into studying-slits, and even the Chief Justice looked wary.

The Chairman, on the other hand, looked completely unconcerned. "Boys, this is the Chief Executive Officer. The CEO."

The VP whipped his head from the CFO to the CEO and back again. He felt his eyes cross even more than usual.

The CFO waved what looked like a couple dozen hands in front of his face, and then said, "Oh, great. I think you broke something up there, Boss."

The Chairman gave an out-and-out snort. "It's been broken for far longer than you've even been around, CFO."

This new Cog - the CEO - made a harsh little noise at that comment. It took the VP a minute to realize it was laughter. Then he turned to the Chief Justice, stuck out his hand, and said, "So you're Lady Justice, huh?"

The VP nearly choked, and he could see the CFO's eyes bulging practically out of his head. The Chief Justice coughed several times, set his jaw, and said, "Actually, I am the Chief Justice, and I am considered masculine, though robots technically have no genders."

It was enough to make the VP's head hurt, but the CEO didn't seem a bit fazed. He reached out a big metal hand and tugged on the Chief Justice's grayish-blue robes. "Well, Masculine Justice, how do you explain the dress?"

It was then that the VP recognized the CEO's voice. It was the voice that had been hollering for a fight - behind the Chairman's door - nearly two years ago. Had the Chairman been training him all this time?

Wow, the VP thought. No wonder he's so mean.

The Chief Justice batted the CEO's hand away. "It is not a dress, ignorant one. It is a robe."

The CEO's mouth came open like an ugly hole. "Did you just call me ignorant?"

"It just means you don't know any better -" the CFO began. There was a quiver in his voice, and that wasn't something you heard often.

But the CEO cut him off. "No one insults me," he snarled up into the Chief Justice's face. "Remember that, Potato Nose."

The Chief Justice looked as if he'd rather have the CEO locked up in jail without a key in sight, but he tucked his lips in and nodded. The CEO sneered. "Good," he said.

And then he turned to the CFO. "You know, for our names being so much alike, you don't look nearly as good as I do. Matter of fact, you need some exercise. I recommend golfing."

The VP shifted sideways, trying to hide his own bulging belly.

The CFO's eyes narrowed. "And I recommend throwing yourself in front of a train at my headquarters."

The VP blinked. That was saying something. The CFO was always saying how being run over by a train was a fate he wouldn't wish on the Chief Justice himself.

The CEO wiggled his eyebrows. "A threat? How…cute." He turned to face the VP head-on, and the VP heard himself yip softly. "So, VP. What does that stand for? Very Pathetic?"

The VP let out a breath of relief at just being asked a question. He'd expected an insult. "No," he said, shaking his head. "It stands for Vice President."

The CEO gave another hard laugh that didn't sound like anything was actually funny. "Loser," he muttered under his breath.

The VP's face burned as if he'd been slapped.

Behind them, the Chairman coughed. "All right, I believe that's enough for one day. You are free to go back to your Headquarters if you want."

The CFO and the Chief Justice left then as if something were chasing them. Even the Chairman wandered into an elevator and disappeared.

But the VP hung back. Maybe - maybe all the CEO needed was someone to be nice to him.

"You know, you're going to be in charge of eight kinds of Cogs now," he managed to get out. "There are the Flunkies. They're kind of weak, but they're cute and they're so loyal. They're really going to look up to you. And then there are Pencil Pushers. You need paperwork signed, they're your guys. And the -"

The CEO cut him off. "Shut up."

The VP didn't. "You don't want to hear about all the wonderful things you can do for your Bossbots?"

The CEO chuckled out another one on his ugly laughs. "No! I want to hear about all the wonderful things they can do for me!"

The VP grabbed his newest colleague's hands. "But that - that's -"

"Mean?" the CEO supplied.

He nodded.

"Well, news flash, Cross-Eyes. I'm not a nice guy." With that, the CEO brought his golf club down - hard - on the VP's right hand.

The VP let out a cry - okay, an out-and-out yelp - jerked his right hand back, and cradled it in his left. He could feel his heart pounding all the way up his throat, and tears were stinging at the back of his eyes from the sheer pain. His hand felt as if it had been crushed to pieces.

"Now get out," he heard the CEO bark.

The VP did. He didn't stop rolling as fast as he could until he was safely back in his office.

**********
Several weeks later, while the VP was recovering from falling off the cliff, a Robber Baron, a Big Wig, and a Big Cheese stopped by to inform him of an important meeting at the Chairman's hideout.

He couldn't come. It had been one of those battles where, no matter what he did, he kept going into a new dizzy spell almost before he could get out of the old one. Trying to move forward or jump was out of the question during those fights. All he could do was stand there and try to keep his oil-breakfast down.

"He can't come," a Mr. Hollywood informed them. "He just fell off the launchpad a few hours ago, so he doesn't feel real great."

The Robber Baron rolled his eyes. The Big Wig sniffed and said, "Sellbots." The Big Cheese went ahead and spat on the floor.

It might as well have been in the VP's face.

*******
The meeting was postponed until the next day. When the VP got there, the Chairman informed them that Bossbot Headquarters had been infiltrated by Toons - disguised as Cogs, of course. And the CEO had beaten them.

"They didn't even need to fight me head-on," he bragged. "They all went sad fighting my Bossbots."

The VP's curiosity was piqued. "How?"

"Oh, the usual way," the CFO piped up. "The Cogs took all their Laff points, and then all their gags -"

The CEO glared at him. "Well, the Chairman and I have been working on a little project we call 'Version 2.0 Cogs.' Basically, once the Cog has been defeated, a perfectly healthy Skelecog emerges."

The VP's mouth hung open. "Wow."

"Where is the Chairman, anyway?" the CFO asked.

The Chief Justice sniffed from his seat. "He said now that there are four of us, it is highly probable that we can discuss matters amongst ourselves. He shall, of course, be checking up on us periodically."

The other three nodded, even the VP, though he wasn't entirely sure what "periodically" meant. "Probable" he understood. It was used in sentences like, "It is highly probable that Toon will buy from us."

"So - how did your Cogs do in the fight?" he asked the CEO now. "Did any of them - you know - perish?"

The CEO's lip curled. "Yes, a couple blew up. But that's a small price to pay for my own safety, isn't it?"

The Chief Justice nodded. The CFO shrugged. And the VP yelled, "NO!" in about the loudest voice he'd ever used.

That was good for the CEO giving him a wow-you're-even-stupider-than-I-thought look. But it sure beat a whack from a golf club.

********
He was signing papers a couple of days later when there was a noise outside his door. Before the VP could even get up to see what all the commotion was about, the door burst open and in came a Head Hunter. His entire too-small-for-his-body head was bright red, and in each hand he was holding a wiggling little Cold Caller by the back of their maroon suits.

Red-hot anger sizzled up the back of the VP's neck, and he rolled over to the Head Hunter. "What are you doing?" he burst out. He had never heard himself sound so angry. "Put them down immediately!"

The Head Hunter dropped each Cold Caller with a sickly thud. They scrambled over to the VP and hid behind him. The Head Hunter scowled up at him. "These noobs showed up at a Bossbot building in Donald's Dock asking for directions to Daisy Gardens! Building regulations clearly state that no Cog shall enter a building that does not belong to his type except during an invasion - and this was certainly no invasion."

"They were lost! That's not their fault!" the VP yelled.

"Then they should have asked for directions in a Sellbot building," the Head Hunter replied smoothly.

"There are hardly any Sellbot buildings in Donald's Dock!" the VP shot back. He knew he was shrieking by that point, but he didn't care.

The Head Hunter shrugged. "Like I care. Regulations state -"

"I don't care about regulations!" the VP burst out.

The room became deathly quiet as the VP realized what he had just said. No Cog could possibly not care about regulations. Regulations and rules and paperwork and business were what they lived for.

I'm a disgrace to all of Cog Nation, the VP thought sadly.

But he slanted his eyes down at the Head Hunter and said in the calmest, most CFO-like voice he could manage, "Don't you ever - ever lay a hand on any of my Sellbots again. Do you hear me?"

The Head Hunter's little eyes suddenly grew almost as huge and frightened as a Flunky's. "Y-yes, s-sir," he stuttered. "A-anything you say, sir."

And he ran out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Boss." He felt a little hand tugging on his suit, and looked down at the Cold Callers. "The Bossbots didn't use to be mean to us. What's wrong?"

The VP let out a long sigh. "Their new boss. That's what's wrong."

And, the VP realized, that must have been why that Head Hunter had gotten so scared. He must have thought all the Cog Bosses were the same. But what would make a Cog so frightened afraid of his own boss?

He would find out soon enough.