Phred looked back on his conversation with his editor. As he studied the 45.cal revolver aimed at his head. Phred thought about the odds and all the possibilities of survival. I didn't look good. He was about to die. For some people they reflect on their loved ones, or what they will miss when they are gone. For Phred only one phrase was repeated over and over again. It was the voice of a chubby editor. "You'll be back before you know it. And just think of the ADVENTURES you'll have. You're going to love it!"

Phred decided that if he did die, and Phred was pretty much sure that he was going to buy it, he would return to New York City as a ghost and haunt his editor to the end of his days.

The man with the pistol smiled and clicked back the hammer with his thumb.

"Arge!" Came a shout from behind Phred, "Arge what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I was about to blow this lousy pencil-neck away," Arge stated matter of factly.

The voice from behind was took on an intrigued tone, "A journalist, huh? From where?

"He says he's from some magazine. Amazing Aero Adventures or somthin' like that," Arge gritted his teeth, "But I know this lying scumbag is one of them slandering Mclane bastards." He grabbed Phred by the collar pulling him closer to the muzzle.

"Well Arge," replied the voice from behind, "perhaps you should let someone with more than half a brain do the talking."

"Aww boss, that wasn't nice at all," grumbled a dejected and insulted Arge, "I never get to have any fun." Arge's tough face melted into a childlike pout as he lowered his gun. What little comfort Phred received as the gun fell from view vanished as he felt a hand on his shoulder. As he turned around his eyes appraised a thin man about the same height as Phred with a body that was almost sickly. His face was just attractive enough to be unattractive. His eyes were blue but just barely, they were closer to gray, like steel. His hair was blonde but just shades away from white. There was nothing particularly scary about this man, merely an odd awkwardness in his appearance. In different circumstances Phred would have raised an eyebrow at the sight of the odd man. However, with a crowd of very unfriendly looking pirates surrounding him, with Arge as one of the most unfriendly looking of all the mob in the background Phred didn't move a muscle.

The odd man looked Phred up and down. "So sorry about the welcome," Smirked the man, "but our friend Arge here doesn't take kindly to being insulted in print. A recent publication by Air Action Weekly, Nero McLeon's Magazine, called members of our gang some rather...unkind things. Are dear sweet Arge here doesn't care to be called 'Lage Arge the Garbage Barge'…"

"Damn right!" Shouted Arge.

"And I have to say that I don't like being called 'Devro the Dunce' either," said the strange looking man, " But hey if you're not with Air Action Weekly then you shouldn't have too much to fear." He laughed, encouraging his gang to laugh with him. Phred wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't surrounded by blood thirsty pirates in the middle of Sky Haven, but Phred couldn't help but notice that the leader of the gang laughed like a little girl. It almost seemed to Phred that his gang was laughing along to try and cover his ridiculous laugh. That or they were seizing a rare opportunity to secretly laugh at him. Before Phred could draw any conclusions, the laughter silenced at a wave of the odd man's hand.

"These jolly fellows you see around you are the Top Hats. I am Devro Cooper, their leader. However Devro the Devil is also accepted and appreciated."

Except no one would call him that. The Top Hat's were mostly a bunch of chute-riding rookies, know more for their almost comical defeats than for their combat kills. They were a spin off from the recently defeated Black Hats, using the former gang'stop hat wearing skull as their symbol, attempting to draw from the fear that the Black Hats used to evoke…with no success.

Phred knew they were clowns, however clowns ridiculed at in print, laughed at in the comfort of one's living room are much different, than say, when they are behind you with a loaded gun.

"D-D-Devro C-Cooper?" Phred stuttered. He couldn't believe his bad luck. The face of a smiling editor came to mind.

"Close but with two less duhs and one less kuh," Said Devro with a smile like a train wreck. A small chuckle resonated through the gang. Again Phred wasn't sure they were laughing with him.

"So you're a reporter huh? What do you report?" Devro began to pace.

"W-Well it's not so much reporting like for a p-paper…"

"So what do you do then?"

Phred's response came out like an avalanche. "I research air pirates and air security organizations and write a story based on what I've found…and then my publishers give it to a group of artists who draw the pictures."

"What?" Devro's expression flashed from a smug smirk into a look of anger.

"I-It's like a comic book."

Gasps from the gang gave Phred the impression that he had said something unspeakable.

Devro shot daggers from his eyes. "Comic books?" he spat, "Comic books!"

Arge elbowed Phred and smiled, "Now you've done it."

Devro got up close to Phred, almost nose to nose. "Do you mean to tell me that you have a hand in making that moronic trash?"

With fear clogging his brain Phred said the only thing that came through the smog.

"Y-yes."

Phred heard a click of a hammer behind him.

"Do you want me to snuff him?" asked a hopeful Arge from behind Phred.

Devro straightened himself, and looked at Phred with disgust. "Put the gun away Arge. We are not a gang of mindless thugs. We are the greatest pirate gang in all of the twenty-two American Nations. So let's deal with him like a pirate gang would."

Shouts of agreement came from all around and Phred cursed the day that he had met George Van Buren.

"Well then pencil-neck, here's the deal. You're going to get in your plane and fly away, and if you live we won't bother you again…so long as you never show your face again in Sky Haven."

"I-If I-I make it out alive?"

"Well that's the where the fun comes in," laughed Devro. "See, my men haven't had any recreation in a while, and you seem like a good sport."

More laughter came from Devro and the group.

"C-couldn't I j-just give you my plane…a-as payment and you could let me walk out of here?"

"Well Phredy boy," laughed Devro as he threw his arm around Phred like they were good chums, "The choice is: play with us or play with Arge."

Arge cracked his knuckles and Phred winced. Internally he had a conflict of interests. He had a desire to live, but he felt like he could just die.