Captain Comics was open for business, but the employees were not behind the counter. They were in the storage room with Nosedive and the Stanley Cup.
"This is so cool!" Said Mook, admiring the Cup. "And you get to keep it all day?"
"All day and all night," said Nosedive proudly. "Twenty-four hours. This is the coolest Earth custom since Christmas!"
"It's bigger than I thought it was," Thrash said, taking a bite out of a burrito. He reached out to touch it.
"Stop!" Nosedive said. "You are not touching the Cup until you wash your hands!"
Thrash and Mook just looked at him. "I'm sorry, guys," Nosedive sighed. "It's just that a certain red-headed teammate of mine didn't think I should be taking the Cup out by myself. Said I'm too irresponsible. So I bet her I'd bring it back in perfect condition. Loser does the winner's chores for a week."
"Don't worry Dive, we'll help you," Thrash said. "We'll make Mallory eat her words!" He popped the last of the burrito in his mouth. Mook nodded in agreement.
"Thanks, guys," Nosedive grinned.
"Hey, Thrash, mind if I take my lunch break now?" Mook asked. I haven't eaten all day!"
"Sure," Thrash replied.
"Great," Mook said. "Dive, do you want to come with?"
"Well…" Dive said, looking at the Cup. "I guess Stanley will be okay back here for a little while."
"He'll be fine," Mook said, dragging Dive towards the door. "Come on, I'm starving!"
The Golden Palace was packed; it took a long while for Mook and Nosedive to get their order and eat. When they got back to Captain Comics they found an exhausted Thrash leaning against the counter.
"The moment you left I got slammed!" He groaned. "They just kept coming! It was nuts!"
"Poor baby," Mook said. "Here, have an egg roll."
Nosedive went into the storage room and immediately ran out again. "Where's the Cup??" He cried.
"What do you mean?" Thrash asked.
"I mean the Stanley Cup is gone!!" Nosedive said in a panicky voice.
"That's impossible! I was really busy, but there's no way I wouldn't notice someone walking out with it! And they couldn't have gone out the back door, it's always locked except when…" Thrash suddenly went pale. "Jim the moving guy! He came by to pick up those boxes of surplus comics and junk!"
"You think he took the trophy too?" Mook asked.
"We can chase him down and find out!" Thrash said. "I know where he's headed!"
"Let's go!" Dive said.
Moments later Thrash, Mook and Nosedive were in Thrash's car heading downtown.
"I'm sorry Dive," Thrash groaned. "This is all my fault!
"No it's not," Dive said. "The Stanley Cup is my responsibility. I never should have left it."
They pulled up to the warehouse and found a bewildered-looking man on the loading dock.
"Jim!" Thrash yelled, sticking his head out the window. "Where's your truck?"
"Stolen!" Jim cried. "I was just about to unload the cargo when I got a phone call. When I got back the truck was gone!!"
"Oh, great!" Mook said. "Now what do we do?"
"We look for clues," Dive replied. He got out of the car and looked around the lot. "There!" He cried, pointing to something near the sidewalk. He walked over and picked it up. "It's a comic book! And there's more down the street!"
They followed the trail of comic books across the city. Eventually it led to an abandoned warehouse in a seedy part of town.
"Stay here, I'll check it out," Nosedive said, jumping out of the car. He walked around the building, checking all the doors and windows. Finally he found an unlocked window and managed to push it open just enough to squeeze through.
The inside was dark and damp with a thick musty smell. Piles of boxes and crates were stacked high towards the ceiling, forming a maze of cardboard and wood. A forklift sat in the corner gathering dust. Nosedive heard voices coming from the other side of the building. He followed the sound until he saw the truck, as well as two men who were sifting through its contents. Nosedive stayed out of sight and listened.
"Argh! Look at all this junk!" Said a lanky man with orange hair and a goatee to match. "Garth, what were you thinking, stealing a truck full of comic books?! How are we supposed to make money off these?"
"C'mon, Dex, it's not all junk!" Garth replied. "What about that life size cardboard cutout of Jar Jar Binks?"
"Hey guys, check this out!" A third voice said. A burly man jumped out of the back of the truck with the Stanley Cup. "We hit the jackpot! We got the Stanley Cup!"
"Yeah, right, Jed," Dex snapped. "What would the Stanley Cup be doing with some cheesy comics and Star Trek action figures? It's just some cheap prop!"
Nosedive knew he had to act quickly. "Okay," he muttered to himself. "All I have to do is sneak past those guys, grab the Cup, sneak back out, and Mallory will never find out the Cup got stolen. No problem. I just need a plan." He leaned against a box to think. Unfortunately it was not as sturdy as it looked; the box crumpled under his weight, split open and sent thousands of marbles across the concrete floor.
The three men jumped. "What was that?" Garth cried.
Dex grabbed a wrench. "Let's find out," he coolly replied. Jed grabbed a crowbar, Garth grabbed a chain, and the three of them advanced towards Nosedive's hiding place.
Nosedive scrambled to his feet and ran towards the back. He climbed up a pile of boxes and crouched on top of them as the trio came near. "Split up," Dex growled. The men took off in opposite directions.
Nosedive waited until Garth was directly beneath him, and then dropped a box full of sweat socks onto his head. He hopped down from his perch. "Who knew sweat socks could be used as a weapon?" He mused as he looked at the unconscious robber.
"Garth? What was that noise?" Jed asked. He tightened his grip on the crowbar doubled back.
Nosedive appeared at the end of the corridor. "Garth's not available. Can I take a message?"
Jed lunged at Dive, crowbar raised. Nosedive disappeared around the corner. Jed followed and immediately slipped on the marbles. He tried to get up but Dive konked him with a ceramic Dalmatian, sending him down for the count.
"Man, there's all kinds of stuff in these boxes," Dive said.
"You're right!" Dex came into view, brandishing a machine gun. Nosedive ran, barely managing to stay ahead of the spray of bullets. He grabbed the Stanley Cup and ducked behind the truck. Dex pumped dozens of rounds into the truck, turning it into a twisted heap of metal. "You're next Duck!" He laughed hysterically. "You and that stupid cheap trophy!"
Nosedive was certain this was it. Suddenly a strange rumbling sound echoed through the warehouse, followed by a surprised yell. Nosedive peeked around the truck and saw Thrash and Mook at the controls of the forklift, with Dex groaning underneath a pile of toppled boxes.
"Guys?" Nosedive cried. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, we said we'd help you take care of the Stanley Cup," Thrash grinned.
******************
Later that evening the three friends sat in Thrash's house eating ice cream and watching the truckjackers being arrested on the news.
"I don't know how to thank you guys for saving Stanley and me," Dive said.
"Hey, you already have," Thrash said, taking another bite of Rocky Road. "How many people can say they ate ice cream out of the Stanley Cup?"
"I gotta say it's the perfect size for a giant sundae, but aren't you worried we'll scratch it or something?" Mook asked, looking at Dive.
"Nah," Dive replied. "What good is winning the Stanley Cup if you can't share it with your friends?"
"Sounds like you've learned a valuable lesson," Mook teased.
"I have," said Nosedive. "When you make a bet with Mallory, go for a whole month's worth of chores instead of a week! I can't wait to see the look on her face when she finds out she has to clean my room…"
****
Don't go too far, we're just getting started! Methinks it might be a female teammate's turn next…
