Trick or Treat, Pt 6.
By Jill Weber
Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.
Neugogg was getting a headache, and when you're a fifteen foot spider with a proportionally sized cranium, that was a lot of head to ache! Pushing electrons around was not getting him anywhere. On the other hand, it was still better than playing another round of chess. If only he had some way of finding the code that would unlock his cell!
He sighed and put his mind back to work again. He had to get out of there. The 'smell' of all those scientific brains around him was driving him to distraction. He wanted to absorb those intellects! And, above all, he wanted to get revenge on the 'Big Guy'. He was going to eat that pilot's brain if it was the last thing he ever did in this life.
Erika Slate had a headache. She'd expected some sort of retaliation from Donovan over her 'gremlins' crack. She hadn't expected him to take her seriously! So, now she had to come up with some sort of defense against 'gremlins.' Wonderful, she had absolutely no idea where to start.
She pulled out the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen marked 'Donovan' and helped herself to two tablets. She washed them down with some Arizona tea and wished that she could lay down for a few minutes. She rested her forehead against her fist and sighed.
"Dr. Slate, are you all right?" Rusty asked worriedly.
Slate sighed again. "I will be, once this headache goes away," she replied. The ringing phone made her scowl.
"Would you like me to answer that?" Rusty asked, correctly interpreting her expression.
"Yes, please tell whoever's there to…" Slate had to revise her original statement, it wasn't the thing a woman wanted her child to repeat. "Tell them that I can't talk right now and to leave a message," Slate said.
Rusty picked up the phone. "Dr. Erika Slate's office," he said. "Rusty the Boy Robot speaking. Oh, hi! I'm sorry, Lt. Dwayne, but Dr. Slate can't…"
If Rusty hadn't possessed titanium plated hands, Slate would have given him blisters the way she snatched the phone from him.
Rusty looked at his empty hand and grinned. "Glad I don't have pain receptors," he said, just loud enough for Slate to hear him.
If Slate heard the boy robot, she gave no sign. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry…" Slate started.
"Bad time?" Hunter said.
They both paused.
"If this is a bad time…" Hunter started.
"Well, it is, sort of," Slate said. "But I don't anticipate it being any better in the near future," she paused again. "So, what can I help you with?"
Hunter took in a deep breath. "Well, it's kind of a long story." And he explained Darlene's situation, adding in the fact that he had a totally unexpected leave of absence for Oct. 31 and Nov. 1. He left out the part about some parents being reluctant to have Jeffy tag along because of the aliens that had come looking for Rusty. Slate didn't need that kind of guilt trip.
"Well, if I can get this project finished by tomorrow, then I have a solution to the trick or treat problem," Slate said. "Quark is having a trick-or-treat event throughout Quark Towers. It'll help keep the children off the streets and cut down on the possibility of somebody meeting a real monster. I was planning on taking Rusty. Guests are permitted, so you and Jeffy are more than welcome to come with us."
"Whoopee!" Rusty started dancing around the room and waving his arms.
"I think Rusty would enjoy it," Slate said dryly.
"So it would seem," Hunter, who could hear Rusty clearly, replied in amusement.
"The trick or treating starts at 5:30 and runs until 8:30," Slate said.
"Sounds good, I'll meet you in your office about five," Dwayne said.
"Great, now if I could only solve my problem as easily," Slate sighed.
"Whee!" Rusty shouted as he did handsprings around the room.
"What's bothering you?" Dwayne asked. "Besides Rusty's boyish enthusiasm, that is."
"Donovan wants me to build a gremlin zapper," Slate sighed. She explained how her snotty comment about gremlins had alarmed Donovan.
"Well, I can't blame him," Dwayne confessed. "After all, if aliens can meld a human into the wall of her house and floor cleaners can take on the Big Guy, then maybe you'd better have an anti-gremlin defense… just in case."
Slate sighed. "You're no help," she said.
"I know who will be," Hunter said slyly. "My Pit Crew would be more than happy to help you out here."
There was a note of irony in Hunter's voice that Slate didn't quite understand.
"Hooray!" Rusty was literally flying now.
"I wouldn't want to impose on them," Slate said.
"Oh, it won't be an imposition at all," Hunter assured her. "Trust me."
"Very well," Slate said. "I could use all the help I can get." She still wasn't understanding Hunter's tone. It was almost as if he intended to punish them. What could the Pit Crew have done to annoy him?
"Whoo-hoo! Hey, Lt. Dwayne, what are you going to dress as?" Rusty hollered.
"Dress as?" Hunter and Slate blurted out.
"Yeah, you know, costumes!" Rusty said. "The magazine says that everybody's supposed to wear costumes, even the adults."
"For the luvva Mary," sighed Slate.