The Comet Cometh Revisited

by iwolf208

Ace, Lexi, Duck, Slam, Tech, and Rev. You know them as the superheroes of Acmetropolis, but what were they like before the comet hit? What's the real story behind the Loonatics? (an in-depth expansion on the original epsiode...) **Ch. 6 & 7 featuring Ace Bunny!**

5. The Festival (pt 2)

So yeah, four weeks... :/ For any normal chapter, four weeks would've been awesome, but considering I said I'd have this out three weeks ago, I think its pretty safe to say that I suck at deadlines.

These past few weeks have been pretty stressful for me. I've had an all-nighter for a speech, a Genetics test that I wasn't aware of until the night before, and three weekends spent in the stands playing an instrument in the stands at a college football game. This past weekend required me to spend all of Friday and Saturday on a bus trip to Dallas, which is roughly six hours from where I go to school. Aside from all that, I greatly underestimated the work required to finish this chapter. Sure, I had the majority of it done four weeks ago, but I didn't realize the "last little bit" I had left would end up being a good 8,000 words in itself. That, and I found it hard to write in general. That being said, if it starts to seem a little rushed at the end, that's probably why.

Anway, pity party aside, I do actually really like the way this chapter turned out. It's the LONGEST chater I've put up so far (and I'm sorry I couldn't find a good way to cut stuff) but it still seems pretty good to me. But this is why I decided to split the last chapter into two parts. If I didn't the chapter would've been a good 40,000 words. Yeesh.

Before I just delve into the chapter, I want to go ahead and address a few things I got in the reviews from my last chapter:

- Guest Reviewer #2: It's funny that you should mention me writing a third season. That might just be something to look for in the future ;) Of course, I would need to finish out this story first, but...

- Guest Reviewer #3: I'm glad you seem to like my story, but I'm scared that I might disappointing you if you're trying to steer clear of tragic backstories. It's not to say that I'll be giving everyone some sort of uber-dramatic sob story, but some of the stories I'll be getting into can get a bit heavy and/or emotional at times, and some will certaily have some tragic elements mixed in. Nothing major, but it's just something to be aware of. I hope that's okay...? =)

One last thing, be prepared for more science, courtesy of Tech and Rev. Honestly, I think everyone figured out what Rev had in mind for his plan, but I guess it really wasn't that much of a surprise. But for those of you physics nerds out there - hold onto your hats - my science might ACTUALLY be kinda plausible :O If you don't know what the machine is that they make, you can probably just google it.

Anyway, these author's notes are plenty long enough, so let's just jump right in. I'll talk some more at the end. The disclaimer from the last chapter applies here as well!

---

Ch. 5 – The Festival (pt. 2)

A Wimshurst machine.

A makeshift one at best… modified in a few important places, but still effective. It was a good thing that Tech had some extra equipment with him in his backpack, or they might've been out of luck. Following Rev's idea, the two of them integrated a Wimshurst machine into an exercise bike, giving them a way to generate a potentially massive electrical current.

They replaced the one front wheel with two thinner, solid plastic ones, making sure to leave a gap between them. With some clever tweaking of the bike's mechanics they even rigged the machine to spin the two wheels in opposite directions. Strips of conductive metals were carefully arranged on the outside surfaces of both wheels and metal brushes were mounted to make contact with the strips as they spun. Each wheel was connected to a metal probe that would collect the created charges, and they were placed close enough together to allow the charges to jump between them, creating a current flow. Finally, and most importantly, they attached a series of wires and tubes to the bike that would capture and funnel the current into the battery. As an extra precaution, they also added a variety of extra braces and supports, in order for the bike to safely handle all the work it was going to be put through. Was it an ideal machine? Probably not… but it could certainly get the job done, and between the two of them, they had successfully rigged the device in just ten minutes.

Of course, putting the machine together and making it run were two completely different things. To generate the charge, the wheels needed to spin. To generate a usable charge, the spinning had to be fast… really fast. That's why Rev was already propping himself up onto the bike seat, ready to take on the challenge. It was his idea after all, and he was the only one who could hit the necessary speeds.

Tech, in contrast, still held some reservations. "Are you sure you want to do this, Rev?" he asked with a hint of concern.

"Absolutely-positively-and-you-can-count-on-that-Tech-'cause-if-there's-anyone-who-can-get-the-job-done-right-it's-me!"

Tech couldn't help but smirk at the runner's attitude, "Alright, but let me clear up a few things before you get started. When I give you the signal, I want you to start off as slowly as possible. We need to make sure that the machine even works, so I don't want you over-exerting yourself right from the get-go. If I don't tell you to stop, you can start speeding up, but still want take it easy. I don't know how much current we have to produce before the battery starts charging, and I don't want you overdoing it. I'll let you know once it starts charging, and we'll judge what to do from there."

"No-need-to-worry-about-me-boss-I've-got-everything-completely-perfectly-100%-under-control!"

He had to admit that Rev's confidence was reassuring, but he still couldn't shake his conviction that there had to be another, simpler way that they had just overlooked. He wasn't undercutting the value of Rev's idea – in fact, he mentally scolded himself for not thinking of it first – but such a method presented some… risks.

It was a popular misconception that whenever Rev tapped into his powers to run or fly, he would always do so at full speed. In reality, doing so would be extremely inefficient and more than a little unnecessary. To put it more simply, would anyone want to push themselves all the way up to almost 10,000 mph when they could just stay at a much more comfortable 1000 mph and still leave almost everything else in the dust behind them?

Of course, by virtue of both his powers and his own body chemistry, the roadrunner was completely capable of reaching such incredible speeds. Being an avian, not only was his body naturally more aerodynamically designed, but he was equipped with some of the most efficient respiratory and circulatory systems in the animal kingdom. His body was profoundly capable of transporting huge amounts of blood and oxygen to all of his various muscles and tissues quickly and effectively, and his powers sped up the process to an almost unrealistic rate.

Still, that didn't mean Rev was without limits. Running at his speeds required massive amounts of energy and, in an effort to conserve some, he would often switch from running to flight upon reaching some of his higher velocities. In fact, Rev rarely ever ran at four-digit speeds, not because he didn't want to, but because it usually wasn't necessary.

The day Rev had discovered his maximum speed, he had done so almost by accident during a team training session. Monitors and sensors estimated a speed that neared 9900 mph, but Rev could only manage it for a few seconds before collapsing from exhaustion. On top of that, the runner was forced to quit for the rest of the day because of the intense pain in his legs. He walked with a slight limp for a day or two afterwards and even felt soreness for as long as an entire week.

Of course, that was a long time ago, and Tech knew that Rev wouldn't be going anywhere near his top speed this time. But it was still discerning that he didn't know just how fast his friend would have to pedal, and how long he would have to maintain it. He couldn't help but ask him one more time.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Rev?"

"I-don't-see-why-you're-getting-so-worked-up-about-this-Tech-I-mean-it's-just-an-exercise-bike-I'm-perfectly-capable-of-handling-this!Why-do-you-keep-asking-is-something-on-your-mind?"

Tech was more worried about whether or not he should do it, since he was sure that he could. As much as he wanted the ride fixed, the idea of Rev putting himself into such a demanding position because of his mistake wasn't very comforting. Tech passively wondered if Rev was acting so carefree simply because he wasn't aware of the potential risks. But then again, Rev wasn't stupid, and no one could possibly know his own body more than he could. He was just being optimistic, as usual. It wasn't the most consoling realization, but he decided to place a little trust in his friend's confidence.

"Don't worry, it's nothing," the coyote dismissed.

"Okay. So-can-I-start-now?"

"Just give me a second to make sure everything is ready to go. Don't start until I say it's okay…"

"Aye-aye-cap'n!"

Tech walked back to where the battery was sitting and hooked up a small monitor to one of the ports, which flashed to life with some currently empty readings.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Tech?" a voice behind him questioned. He turned to find Mr. Grant sitting off behind him in an undersized plastic chair.

"Absolutely, sir. So long as Rev turns the wheels fast enough, we should be able to generate enough electricity to charge the battery in no time."

"I certainly hope so," the manager hinted in response. "I was taking a chance when I asked you to contribute something to the festival, Mr. Coyote. I even had to pull a few strings to make sure that everything could be situated. I don't mean to pressure you or anything, but I'd say there's a fair amount of credibility at stake for the both of us."

Tech didn't respond; he was well aware of that. Overhearing their exchange, Rev's attitude switched from casual to focused. There really were people counting on him now, and he wasn't going to let them down. He could do this…

"Alright Rev," Tech announced after a moment, "whenever you're ready…"

It took an extra dose of constraint for him to keep himself from bursting immediately into full speed, but he managed to ease the pedals into motion, maintaining a snail's pace for a few moments. Failing to hear any negative feedback, he started speeding up, first into a jog, then eventually a slow run.

On Tech's end, everything appeared to be registering okay. His monitor showed that the machine was in fact producing some charge, but the battery had yet to pick up on it. Rev was following orders well so far. Increasing his speed, but at a very steady pace, he had made it up to a normal running speed.

"So far, so good…" he thought.

After about a solid minute, Rev had managed to bring himself up to a sprinting speed. He had yet to feel any sort of strain, but both of them were starting to grow anxious. "Anything-yet-Tech?" he called out.

"Not yet…" he called back, "just keep going, Rev… slow and steady…"

Following his friend's instruction, Rev kicked himself up another notch, entering speeds that were more exclusive of a typical roadrunner (though still perfectly casual for him.) Tech tried to stay optimistic, but he was beginning to worry about how much faster his friend would have to run before the battery picked up anything.

In fact, for the next minute or so, he couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off his monitor. Staring it down, he was almost mentally willing the screen to yield some kind of result, as if it might actually help. He was so focused that it almost came as a surprise when the fat 0% reading finally changed into a 1%.

"H-hey Rev, we finally got something!" he announced, his budding excitement stammering his voice a bit. Knowing that it really was possible for the battery to be charged this way,he was granteda little peace of mind. Looking up, Tech saw that Rev had sped himself up significantly. His eyes weren't glowing, which meant that he hadn't truly tapped into his powers yet, but he was still moving at a speed that the runner could finally call "fast." A few odd beads of sweat forming over his brow let the coyote know his friend was finally getting a workout.

"Okay Rev, we're getting a charge now," he addressed, "so try and keep yourself around that speed, okay?" He felt it was probably a good time to keep him from going any faster.

"Can-do-Tech!" he sounded back, spirits lifted knowing that they were finally getting somewhere. It was a good sign, but they still had a long way to go…

•

It was about a good five minutes before Rev started to feel any sort of fatigue. He had remained diligent in keeping up his current speed thus far and he felt that he still had plenty of energy left to burn, but after this much time continuously sprinting on an exercise bike, he was becoming more and more aware of his own breathing. He also came to realize that he hadn't heard so much as a peep from Tech the entire time. Looking over, he saw that the inventor and the ride manager seemed to be discussing something. Curiosity piqued, he trained his ears in their direction and managed to pick up a few things.

"How's it holding up?" Mr. Grant inquired.

"It's slow going right now, but we're making progress," Tech replied matter-of-factly. "The battery's at 8% so far…"

Eight percent?! Was that it?! Rev was a little distraught to hear that his efforts so far had yielded so little. The manager mimicked his concerns.

"So far, it doesn't seem quite as fast as you were making it out to be. How much longer do you think we need?" His voice was still polite, but his tone was growing firmer.

Tech's voice was becoming uneasy, "Well, it's kind of inconsistent… but it looks like, on average, the battery charges up one percent about every thirty to forty seconds. At this rate, I'd say we're looking at about an hour…"

"An hour?!" Rev thought. He was still in decent shape, but he wasn't sure if he could last that long.

"If you ask me, you'd have been better off using the generator if it was going to take this much time." Mr. Grant's impatience was becoming more noticeable.

"Don't worry sir," Tech reassured, "I'm sure we'll start getting faster results once the battery gets more accustomed to the current. It's only a matter of time." It sounded like a good excuse, but that's all it was. He and Rev both knew that the only way the battery could charge quicker was by moving the pedals faster, but that was an issue the coyote was purposely trying to avoid; He didn't want Rev thinking that overworking himself was the only way to get results. He wasn't even too sure how effective a simple speed increase would be. Would it even be worth it?

But of course, Rev was already having this conflict. It was an uncomfortable feeling for him, knowing that his idea, his efforts - and in a sense, his own abilities - were failing… and the consequences were just around the corner. Feelings like these were the ones he hated most, ones that seemed to form unrelenting knots in the pit of his conscience. If there was ever anything he could do for someone, he would make sure and do everything in his power to pull through. It was just the kind of guy he was... After thinking it over, he found himself with a renewed sense of will and determination. He still had plenty of fight left in him and, as far as he was concerned, there was no reason to give up just yet. It was time to kick it up a notch…

Meanwhile, Tech was busy with his own concerns. Should he tell Rev to try and run even faster, or reserve his judgment a little while longer? Of course, he soon found out that the decision wasn't his to make, as the numbers on the screen made a sudden jump upward, effectively catching his attention.

"Hey, now that's more like it!" Mr. Grant exclaimed. He had been keeping an eye on the screen as well and was relieved to see some substantial progress. "I guess you were right… it just needed some more time to warm up…"

But Tech knew that wasn't the reason at all. Looking up, he saw that Rev was moving much faster now, enough for his eyes to finally start glowing red. His easygoing expression had been replaced by a more serious one and his face was visibly revealing his exertion. If he hadn't been pushing himself before, he certainly was now. Judging from how appropriately-timed his sudden sense of urgency was, he rightly assumed that Rev had overheard what he and Mr. Grant had been discussing.

Tech knew how his friend's mind worked. Whether Rev would acknowledge it or not, he had come to know that the roadrunner harbored a core desire to please people. Occasionally, it would even be strong enough to push him to absurd or unrealistic lengths all for the sake of others. That's why he had been trying to keep the issue quiet as much as possible. But now that Rev had found out regardless, concern slowly started to claw its way through the back of the coyote's mind.

But before he could get carried away, he chose to take another look at his friend. Since it looked like Rev still had plenty of fight left in him, and the battery was finally up to speed, he chose to keep his thoughts grounded. As long as things were running smoothly, there was no reason in worrying just yet...

•

Rev ended up losing track of exactly how much time had passed, but he guessed it to be around five or ten minutes.

All he knew for certain was that his legs were on fire.

All of this sustained activity was finally starting to get to him and he could feel himself tiring out. According to Tech, the battery had just passed the halfway point about a minute ago and was increasing by about 1% every ten seconds. It was certainly progress he could be proud of, but he was starting to wonder if he could last long enough to reach 100%.

Tech was wondering this too. He noticed the runner's movements were becoming much more labored and deliberate, and it looked like his face was trying its best to mask the occasional wince of pain or discomfort. This was the kind of situation he was afraid of. "Hey Rev," he called out, "you can slow it down a bit if you want… the battery's been charging pretty well so far. Why don't you take a break?"

Rev wasn't sure if his partner wanted him to just slow down or to stop completely, but as tempting as both suggestions were, he knew they were out of the question. If he stopped, he was almost certain the battery would lose any charge it had gathered thus far, so it puzzled it him that Tech had even suggested that. As much as he felt like quitting, he wasn't going to step off that bike until the job was done.

Slowing down was a more reasonable suggestion, but he couldn't bring himself to do that either. A slower speed meant a slower charge, and the last thing Rev wanted to do was spend even more time on the bike. Thinking that over, he reasoned that there was really only one way for him to finish briefly wondered if his legs could manage it, but by then they were already acting.

Knowing Rev wouldn't accept his suggestions, Tech found himself staring intently at the monitor once again, quietly wishing for the whole process to finish as quickly and smoothly as possible. The battery had just hit 63% and he was estimating about another five or six minutes at this rate.

Assuming Rev could keep it up that long...

But suddenly, he noticed another jump in the current levels and an even louder noise coming from the bike wheels. He quickly returned his gaze back to his partner and was surprised by what he saw. As much as he didn't expect Rev to slow down, he didn't think he would speed up. But sure enough, the roadrunner had found a way to push himself even further with feet that were moving so fast they were starting to look like solid red and black circles. It may have just been an assumption, but Tech had a gut feeling that it wouldn't be long before Rev hit his limit.

"Rev," he tried calling out again, "you don't need to push yourself… you're doing just fine!"

But his words had no effect. The speedster continued to rocket onward despite how much his legs begged for reprieve. His eyes had narrowed sharply both from his sheer determination and the mounting pains he was trying his best to ignore. His body had hunched itself into an almost streamlined position over the bicycle, which now looked like it could fall apart at any minute from the raw amount of force he was exerting.

This was fast. Even for Rev.

"REV, YOU'RE –" Tech attempted to raise his voice in protest once again, when the readings on the monitor stole his attention. The battery was charging up a full percent every almost every second.

His astonishment was beyond words. Rev had increased his speed practically tenfold and the current charge rate rivaled the one he had observed this morning. In other words, the amount of electricity that Rev was generating now would almost be enough to power the entire HQ Tower! Seeing such a development melted most of the coyote's concerns into astonishment… or rather… excitement. He never anticipated results like these… it was almost exhilarating. They'd be finished in no time at this rate. He even surprised himself when instead of trying to hold the roadrunner back, he suddenly found himself cheering him on.

"You're doing great, Rev! Just a little while longer… you can do this!"

Was he hearing things, or was Tech actually encouraging him now? Rev tried not to overthink it, but he found it comforting to at least have some extra support. If only his body didn't seem to be at such odds with his efforts. It was like his mind and his legs were locked in some kind of unbearable struggle, the muscles in his legs screaming for him to let up before they gave out, and his mind urging him to fight on, if only for a bit. It was a tough battle, but Rev was determined that his mind could win out.

"You've-got-this-Rev," he mentally encouraged himself, "it'll-only-hurt-for-a-little-while... just-keep-it-up..."

Meanwhile, Tech watched intently as the number on the monitor continued to climb. 69%... 70%... 71%...

"Come on Rev," he urged, keeping up his show of support, "I know you can do it!"

"Just-ignore-the-pain... just-keep-pushing..."

74%... 75%... 76%...

"You're doing great, buddy! Keep it up!"

"Everyone's-counting-on-you... just-a-little-longer..."

81%... 82%...

"Come on, Rev... you can do this..."

"It-doesn't-hurt..."

85%... 86%...

"I believe in you!"

"I-won't-be-beaten..."

90%... 91%...

"Almost there...!"

"I-refuse...!"

A few drops of sweat graced the coyote's head as he waited silently in stunned anticipation, the battery nearing its maximum capacity.

97%... 98%... 99%...

...100%!

"YES!" The exclamation practically exploded from his mouth like a reflex to finally seeing that elusive three-digit number. "Rev, you did it! The battery's charged!"

With hasty excitement, Tech yanked the various cords and wires from the battery's ports and threw them off to the side. He threw one of his magnetic fields over the battery and ran with it over to the stairs that led to the control room.

Rev, on the other hand, was still in the process of slowing down. His face was covered in beaded sweat, his chest rose and fell frantically as his body struggled to take in enough air, and frankly, he was surprised to see that his legs were still attached to him, considering how much pain they were in. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to just collapse on the spot, but he knew that probably wasn't a good idea. Stopping so abruptly after moving so quickly wouldn't be good for his legs, or the bike. So, he forced himself to stick it out for just a few more moments to allow him a more gradual stop. It didn't bother him too much though, considering he had done exactly what he intended to do. For now, his work was done.

But of course, he wouldn't feel completely satisfied until he had closure... closure that Tech would hopefully provide in just a moment...

Once inside the control box, Tech knelt down underneath the control panel and opened the battery compartment. He set it down in place with his powers and quickly reattached the necessary wires. With the push of a button, the battery started up, just as it had before. Closing the door, he stood back up and grabbed hold of the large green lever.

"Here goes nothing..." he muttered before pulling.

After what seemed like the longest second of his life, the wheel lit up like a Christmas tree and the pods started to rotate slowly, assuming a more proper starting position. For Tech, the validation was overwhelming. They had done it... the ride was working, at last! The people waiting in the crowd down below offered fitting background music to their success with scattered bouts of applause, cheering, whistling, and various other noises of both awe and delight.Their wait was finally over too. Listening to their praise, Tech's face relaxed into a smile filled with relief and satisfaction... that was, until he remembered something else.

Looking back over the side wall of the control box, he saw Rev collapsed on top of the bicycle down below, having finally come to a stop. His body was lying almost completely limp with the bottom of his beak resting on the front end and both his arms sprawled over the handlebars, trying to catch his breath. The sight quickly reminded of who had been doing all the work, and he found it unfitting to revel in the success of the moment any longer.

Tech made his way down from the control box and immediately walked over to the bicycle that held up the emaciated roadrunner. "Hey Rev..." he began softly, "how're you feeling?"

As if it were tiresome, he took a second before responding. Turning and lifting his face towards him, he offered an unfitting - yet truly characteristic - beaming grin. As he spoke, his pace was much slower and more labored, likely due to the shortness of his breath.

"It worked Tech..." he managed to say in between huffs, "just like... I said it would..."

Tech offered him an empathetic smile, "Yeah... you were right, it did. But you don't look so good..."

"Yeah... I am a little... tired... but besides that... I feel great!"

His reply wasn't convincing, "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely...!"

"You think you can get off that bike?"

"I think so..." his voice lost a bit of confidence as he started propping himself back into an upright position. He was glad that his upper body didn't hurt, at least.

The moment he picked up his left foot from the pedal though, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg, causing him to wince. He waited a second to let the pain subside before he realized that both of his legs were trembling, almost limply, weakened from the over-exertion. As he continued to try and lift his leg, the pain had digressed into something more dull and fiery that radiated throughout every one of his muscles. It took all he had just to drag his leg over the seat. Once, he managed, however, he found that his stationary leg was far too weak to support the full weight of his body and he began falling over with a startled gasp. Fortunately, Tech was prepared and caught the runner by his shoulders before he hit the ground, his legs still clinging to parts of the bike. Looking up at his friend, Rev chuckled sheepishly.

Tech sighed, "Rev, I thought I told you not to push yourself too hard." His attempt at playing the "wise man" in this situation fell flat once he remembered that he had been cheering him on just moments ago. Feeling hypocritical, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he stood by them hoping that Rev wouldn't bring it up. He didn't.

"I got it working though... didn't I...?" he defended.

"But you're in pain."

"Just a little... I just need to rest for a bit... I'm sure if you give me... just a few minutes... I'll be good as new...!"

Tech frowned, "Well, I'm not so sure about that last part... but you are right about one thing. The best thing you can do now is rest." He surveyed the immediate area and quickly located an empty bench beside the bumper cars, just a few feet away. "Come on, let's set you down over here."

He had only just begun to pull him partway onto his back before Rev protested. "Hey... I can walk there myself..." He conceded after the coyote threw him a half-incredulous look. "Fine..."

While he walked, he tried his best to keep his friend as still as possible, but with the added weight on his shoulders and the rocky, uneven ground beneath him, every step the coyote took perturbed the roadrunner ever so slightly. If the movement jolted his legs, he would hear a small, stifled grunt or a suppressed wince as a reaction, urging him to try and move even more carefully. They reached the bench in a matter of moments and, even more meticulously than before, he helped Rev off of his back and into a comfortable sitting position.

Immediately, Rev began to slouch backward, spreading his arms outwardly so that he could breathe easier, his legs practically immobile to avoid any more unwanted pain. Rev could play the strongman all he wanted, but to Tech he looked like a complete and exhausted mess. He couldn't help but feel partly responsible, and knowing that the fastest one on the team couldn't move his legs left him with an uncomfortable mix of worry and guilt.

"Mr. Coyote," he heard a voice behind him call, "I must say that you've got quite an impressive machine here. Would you mind showing us how it works?" Tech turned to find that Mr. Grant was speaking openly to him from inside the control room. He had honestly forgotten all about him and was a bit surprised to see him standing there. He must've been so caught up in the situation with Rev that he ended up ignoring his presence.

His words dully reminded him that his job wasn't finished yet as he still had to present his creation, both to the people, and to the employees who would be operating it. It felt odd at first for him to get back to work so quickly, but he knew it was probably for the better. There wasn't much else he could do for his friend at this point, and this would give him some much-needed time to recuperate.

"Alright Rev, I have to get back to the ride for now," he informed. "You just stay here and try not to move anything. You need to rest. I'll be right back in a few minutes to check on you again, okay?"

Rev didn't say anything in response, but instead offered a weak smile and a simple thumbs-up to show that he understood.

Tech still felt like he needed to add something. "And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to –"

"Don't worry about it Tech," Rev interrupted with a much more stern, yet still understanding voice. For that moment, he made sure that his words weren't meddled with frantic gasps for air to ensure that his point was made. Tech worried too much, especially when he felt like he could shoulder any sort of blame. "I'll be fine."

His message came across loud and clear. "If you say so..." Tech mumbled, before turning around. "Thanks again, Rev..." he added genuinely after he began walking away. Rev only chuckled in response, knowing that his teammate was already out of the range his weakened voice could travel. His laugh seemed to sum it all up for the inventor though, who couldn't help but grin to himself as he joined Mr. Grant in the control room.

"Is he gonna be alright?" the manager asked him, finally acknowledging Rev's condition instead of the ride.

"I'm sure he will."

• • •

His whole presentation had taken a good twenty minutes. After conversing briefly with Mr. Grant, he stepped out in front of the crowd and essentially mimicked the speech and demonstration he had given his teammates that morning. He walked through each of the ride's unique "modes" one by one and even pulled out a few volunteers for better illustration.

He couldn't have asked for a better crowd. Not only were they a manageable size for him, they seemed to hang on his every word. They would cheer, laugh, or even gasp almost every time they were supposed to. In fact, their reactions were helping to grab the attention of passerbys who were starting to crowd in as well, intrigued by The Circuit's new addition.

Once he was finished with the general public, he took a moment to teach a few ride attendees how to operate the ride as well as what they should do if and when certain issues came up. He even chose to stand by during the ride's first few runs to help guide them through the process and answer any questions. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Grant thanked the inventor for his hard work and gladly dismissed him (asking him to also extend his gratitude to Rev.)

When he arrived back at the bench, he found it hard to tell that Rev had actually collapsed from exhaustion just moments ago. He seemed alert, happy, and energetic. In other words, he seemed perfectly normal. He was even the first to speak upon his friend's arrival. "Great-speech-Tech-you-practically-had-them-eating-out-of-your-hands!" His voice was even back up to speed.

"How're you holding up?" Tech asked, ignoring his comment.

"I'm-doing-just-fine! It-was-a-good-thing-you-had-to-give-that-presentation-before-we-left-since-it-gave-me-some-time-to-catch-my-breath-otherwise-I-might-not-have-been-in-good-enough-shape-to-really-enjoy-the-festival."

"What about your legs?"

"They're-fine..." Tech kept his gaze held sternly on the roadrunner, already knowing that he was keeping something from him. "Okay..." he eventually admitted, "so-they're-still-a-little-stiff... and-it-feels-like-they-might-be-swollen-a-bit... but-at-least-the-pain's-gone-down! And-it-doesn't-feel-like-my-legs-are-on-fire-anymore-so-I'd-say-I'm-doing-pretty-good!"

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice softening.

"Of-course!"

As much as he suspected that Rev was still making light of his current condition, he was pretty sure that he wasn't being lied to. Since his superpowers also had an effect on his body chemistry, it also meant that the runner's body was generally quicker to recover than most people's. It certainly wasn't significant enough to be considered a special ability, but Rev was known to naturally heal quicker than normal from most internal or external wounds, recuperate faster from things like physical exhaustion, and even spend less time fighting off illnesses and infections.

In light of that, he knew it really was possible for most of Rev's more moderate ailments to largely subside by now. But, reminding himself of his condition beforehand, he knew it was going to take some time before he was actually "good as new" as he so claimed. Still, he realized that petty arguing wasn't going to get the runner to take himself more seriously. So, with a dismissive sigh, he decided it would be best to just drop the issue.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you on that one..." he said frankly. "Anyway, we still have some time before the recognition ceremony. What do you feel like doing?"

"Hmmm..." Rev thought aloud, "actually... I'm-more-hungry-than-anything-right-now." He felt his stomach growl. "In-fact... I'm-really -get-something-to-eat?"

Tech relaxed his expression. It made sense that Rev would be hungry considering how much energy he had just burned. "I guess we can grab ourselves an early dinner... I'm pretty hungry myself. What do you feel like eating?"

"Well... I-don't-know-about-you-but-I-could-really-go-for-a-nice-big-corn-on-the-cob! I-know-they-have-this-one-place-at-the-Food-Court-somewhere-that-sells-some-that-are-almost-as-big-as-a-turkey-leg! And-they-even-put-all-kinds-of-different-stuff-on-'em-too!"

Tech chuckled, "Sounds good to me. You need any help getting there?"

"I-told-you-Tech-I'm-fine!" Rev's voice was growing firmer now, cementing his position on a tired suggestion. "I-can-walk-there-perfectly-fine-on-my-own."

Despite his confidence, he quickly found out how long and burdensome a process standing up was oncehe realized just how heavy his legs felt. His muscles ached from having to move again after such a long break period, and their occasional trembling further complicated the process. Once Rev managed to pull himself fully upright, he felt a hot, heavy pain flow throughout his legs, as if the renewed blood flow stung the insides of his veins. But, it only lasted a moment, and the pain quickly passed away, leaving behind only the familiar soreness.

"See...?" Rev faked, "no-problem-at-all." But, once Rev took a step forward and his foot hit the ground, he winced as the same pain instantly flashed back through his front leg. His knee buckled from under its own weight and he began to fall forward. Fortunately, Tech was anticipating some trouble and stopped his friend's descent with a hand placed firmly against his chest, and his other arm placed carefully over the shoulders behind his head.

"Actually... maybe-I-could-just-use-some-help-until-we-get-to-the-Food-Court..." he confessed after regaining his composure.

"No problem," Tech replied as the two of them started walking together, Rev using him as a sort of crutch.

As they left the area, they ended up walking by the queue line for the ride which had now become quite large with all kinds of eager and intrigued fairgoers. As people in line took notice of the two Loonatics passing by, applause and cheering to started to build out of nowhere until almost everyone gathered was giving them some kind of attention. After a moment, a distinct chant started to separate itself from the overbearing noise.

They were chanting Rev's name.

The speedster could only bring himself to smile back at them as they passed, laughing politely out of embarrassment.

• • • • •

Pulling up a spoonful of the liquid, she let some of the freshly warm vapors reach her nose before blowing. It smelled decent enough.

On the table before her sat a humble plastic bowl filled with the sharp-orange broth, complimented with a loaf of garlic bread. Ace's mother sat directly across from her at the circular picnic table where they were eating, and Ace was sitting equidistant from both girls on Lexi's left. On Ace's request all three of them ordered a bowl of the restaurant's supposedly famous purée of carrot soup. Ace had already gulped down a few spoonfuls, while his mother chose to start off first with a side salad.

Carrot purées had the unfortunate tendency of being tasteless or sloppy when made by most people, so Lexi hesitated before her first taste, but she urged the spoon into her mouth before she could think too much about it. Fortunately, after giving the broth a thorough analysis with her taste buds, she was pleased to find that it wasn't bad at all… in fact, it was actually quite good. Had Ace been exaggerating about it? Probably. But the taste was so pleasingly rich and hearty that she didn't blame him for it.

"So… what's tha verdict?" Ace asked after watching her take the first spoonful.

"You were right, this is pretty good! You can taste a lot of other things in it too, like tomatoes and other vegetables and stuff."

He laughed a little, "I don't know if it counts as a true carrot purée with all that extra stuff, but it still tastes pretty good if ya ask me."

"I'll say," she added as she scooped more of the soup into her mouth. After a few more bites, she turned to her other companion, attempting to initiate conversation. "So… Ms. Bunny…"

"Oh, there's no need to act to act so formally around me," Pamela replied politely, "you can just call me 'Pam' if you want, Lexi." Her voice was a pleasant mix of both the sweetness and genuineness of a mother and the comfort of a close friend. She also noticed that, unlike her son, she didn't have a noticeable accent.

Lexi smiled at her, "Alright, Pam… it's nice to finally meet you! I know Ace has talked about you before, but it still feels weird for you to finally be sitting right in front of me… if that makes any sense…"

"Of course, I feel the same way!" she agreed with a polite chuckle. "It's wonderful to at last have the chance to meet one of my son's teammates. He talks about you guys all the time, and it always sounds like the six of you are so close…"

Lexi grinned inwardly as she noticed Ace paying more attention to his food than the conversation, likely a little embarrassed by his mother's fawning.

"In fact," she continued, "he's told me enough stories that I feel like I already know a lot about you all, even though I've only just met you, Lexi."

"Is that so?" she questioned aloud, suspiciously. Ace was doing his best to avoid eye contact with either of them. This was something she had to pursue. "What kind of things has he said?"

Pamela's expression changed slightly, realizing that she had probably said too much. "Oh, I don't know…" she said while trying to sneak glances at her son, "perhaps it's not my place…"

"Oh don't worry about it," Lexi insisted, "I'd really like to know. Besides, I'm sure it won't be anything I'm not already aware of anyway. You know, since Ace and I are just so close…"

"Well…" she mused, "…I suppose you're right." Even though she seemed a bit reluctant to indulge Lexi with what Ace had apparently confided in her, she also seemed a bit happy to share, as if it were a chance to prove her knowledge. Ace released a defeated breath before turning his gaze down toward his lap.

"For example, I've heard that you have trouble with sleepwalking sometimes, Lexi," she informed.

Lexi's eagerness dropped a few notches. "Wait, how did you know about that?" she asked her teammate. Ace attempted for another second to dodge her eyesight, but quickly decided it best to explain himself.

"Ya know I'm a light sleepah, Lex. Since I usually wake up once er twice a night, I like ta go ta tha kitchen fer a glass o' water er somethin'. And… sometimes… yer already there…"

Lexi was aware of her occasional sleepwalking episodes, learning about her condition at a young age, but she had never really felt the need to tell anyone on the team about it. She couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. How long had he known about that?

"How come you never told me?" she asked with subtle urgency. "I don't do this every night, do I?"

"No-no-no," he was quick to calm her down, "it's only happened a few times, and I wasn't sure if you already knew about it er not. I was always meanin' ta ask ya, but I nevah knew how ta bring it up…"

Pam must've caught on to the uneasiness she was starting to feel because she quickly tried to move the conversation along. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you any, Lexi. I hope it wasn't anything too personal…"

""No, not at all," she quickly reassured. "Like I said, I already knew about that one."

"Well if it helps any," she offered, "I know plenty of things about Ace as well, being his mother and all…" Her words were docile, but her tone seemed almost… scheming. It reminded her of the way Ace would get whenever he was up to something.

Lexi picked up the insinuation and returned the tone, "Oh really…? What would those be?" Ace's cheeks went a little pink, not knowing what his mother might say.

"Well," she began as the two girls leaned in a little and started an exchange that sounded similar to two girlfriends gossiping over cups of coffee, "I don't know if he's already told you about this… but did you know that Ace is deathly afraid of spiders?"

Being the team's leader, Ace wouldn't readily share things like what his personal fears were unless he felt that the situation called for it somehow. So, this was news to Lexi.

"Oh really..?" she asked connivingly.

"Yes, he's been terrified of them ever since he was a little boy," she divulged. "In fact, I remember that he used to scream his poor little lungs out at the sight of one and run to me in tears, asking me to get rid of it for him."

Lexi stifled an actual laugh, but her face widened considerably in anticipation of how Ace was going to respond.

"Well, ya know that everyone's got somethin' they're scared of," Ace assured, "and I just always thought that spiders were really creepy, that's all. Besides, I was just a little kid at tha time."

"Actually," Pam corrected him, "if I remember correctly… you were doing that until you were about… eleven or twelve years old."

Ace flushed from embarrassment and Lexi's laugh was visible this time. Since Ace didn't seem to have anything else to add, his mother went ahead and said the obvious for him. "Of course, you did grow out of it with time…"

Lexi suddenly found herself in very good spirits. "Oh it's okay, Ace…" she said in a half-serious tone of consolation while placing a hand on his shoulder, "you know we only tease because we care!"

Ace gave her a small scoff.

"And it's only fair that if I have to embarrass Lexi, then I have embarrass you as well, Ace," she concluded to her son with a somewhat mischievous smile.

"Yeah, sure…" he muttered, cheeks returning to normal color.

Now Lexi realized where Ace had inherited his more carefree attitude. Like her son, Pamela had a kind of playful air about her. She seemed to share the same knack for alleviating tensions through a light-hearted joke or gesture that her son had. Even if that sometimes made them prone to irking or – in this case – embarrassing someone, they never meant any harm by it. It was one of the traits that she had come to admire in her leader, and was happy to see it in his mother as well, because it was actually making her a little more comfortable. Still, for his sake, she decided to change the subject.

"So anyways, Pam… what do you do for a living?"

She took a sip of her own soup before answering, "I work as a nurse for a pediatric hospital downtown."

"Oh that's cool!" she responded. "You seem like the kind of person who'd work great with kids!"

Ace apparently shrugged off whatever uneasiness he may have had left as he threw himself back into the conversation with his usual attitude. "You kiddin'? She's one of tha best! Trust me when I say that she's got scrapbooks filled with all tha little lettahs and pictures that her patients keep givin' her."

"Awww, that's sweet," Lexi commented with a giggle.

Pamela smiled, "It is a bit demanding, but I couldn't ask for a better job. I always wanted to work in a hospital with patients, ever since I was a little girl. Sure the pay is a nice plus, but I honestly feel like the kids give me more to be happy about than a paycheck ever could."

Lexi smiled.

"It certainly beats tha hell outta yer old job…" Ace added, to which his mother lightly scoffed in agreement.

"Where did you used to work?" Lexi asked curiously.

"Well, I've worked at a few places in my life… but I think Ace is talking about the factory. For seventeen years after I graduated High School, I worked for a manufacturing plant."

"Wow, that's quite a while," she responded. The longest job experience she ever had was working at a bank for two years while she was in high school. It seemed like a long time to her then, but it completely paled in comparison. "What kind of factory was it?"

"It was a pretty standard place. We mostly made various synthetics and plastics that we would send as material to other factories. Of course, we had machines to do most of the real work, but people still had to be there to operate and monitor them. It wasn't a very glamorous job, but the pay was surprisingly good... probably because of all that dangerous equipment we had to deal with."

"To be honest, it sounds kinda boring," Lexi said with a laugh. "So, if you always wanted to be a nurse, why did you spend so much time at a place like that?"

"Like I said, the pay was good. Once I graduated, I decided to go to school for nursing and I was lucky enough to find a job that paid so well with just a high school diploma, so I picked up a shift part-time to help pay for my classes. I was only planning to stay there a few years before I got my degree and became a nurse... but I guess fate had other plans for me."

"About two years into my studies," she elaborated, "I met someone at the university and ended up falling in love, and you know what that does to a young girl. After a while, my priorities changed, and I eventually decided to drop out of college so I could marry him and start a family. It was a difficult decision, but the timing just felt right. He seemed like such a sweet guy and he was getting into a high-profile government job that promised a lot for the both of us... and I was getting more and more settled into the plant and had just gotten my first promotion... so it seemed like a perfect opportunity. I had always just assumed that I could go back to school a few years down the road, and pick up the rest of my credits when I had the time."

"So what happened?" Lexi asked.

"Well, I got married when I was only 21 and had Ace just a year later. For a few years after that, things seemed to be going great. Ace was growing up nicely... we settled into our first house... he was getting promoted and I was thinking of going back to school... we were still so young and in love... everything was falling into place. But then... when Ace was just four years old... well..." she started to hesitate, as if the subject was still a delicate one for her.

"He left," Ace finished for her, very matter-of-factly but still with a hint of quiet disdain. Pamela nodded solemnly to verify what her son had said and Lexi felt her heart sink a little. She was aware of the story, but it wasn't one that the leader liked to talk about, so the details were still sketchy for her. As much as he enjoyed sharing stories about growing up with his mother, he usually avoided the topic of his father.

"I was heartbroken," she recalled. "Ace wasn't even old enough to start school yet and suddenly I had to raise him on my own. As much as I wanted to go back to college at the time and get that better paying job, I just couldn't devote myself to such an investment... not when the bills still needed to be paid... and I still needed to be a mother. So, I decided to keep my job at the plant, and focus my entire life around my son and my career. After a few years, I started getting paid more at the factory than I ever would have as a nurse, so I guess I just gave up on that dream. The job I had at the time was paying the bills just fine. We weren't well off, but we were managing."

"So what made you change your mind?" Lexi asked, now fully engrossed in her narrative.

Pam laughed lightly as Ace put on a small, empathetic smile. "It wasn't my choice to make. I got hurt on the job and they wouldn't keep me."

"What happened?"

Before she dived into her next story, she pulled up the sleeve on her right arm, revealing a large faded scar that ran on the inside from just under her wrist to her elbow. Lexi couldn't help but cringe a little upon seeing it.

"It happened about six years ago," she explained. "I'll spare you the gritty details, but at the end of one of my shifts, I had cut the power to one of the machines so I could clean and inspect the inside. Apparently, one of the other workers hadn't noticed what I was doing and turned the power back on before I was finished. Long story short, my arm was crushed. I had to spend almost an entire month in the hospital, having multiple surgeries to reattach or repair what could be saved and to remove what couldn't. They had to put a lot of metal rods and braces into my arm as replacement parts and that's where this scar came from. I'd say I have more metal than anything else in that arm now."

"I... I can't imagine..." Lexi managed to respond.

"Aside from the time it took me to recover from the surgery, I was also in for several months of rehab and therapy so that I could get the strength back into my arm. Of course, the doctors ordered that I couldn't operate the machines at the factory while I was still in therapy, so I couldn't work. But by that point, I had risen to such an important position that the company couldn't afford to keep it open for as long as I was going to be gone... so they let me go. For some reason, they wouldn't even offer me an entry-level position when I came back."

"On top o' that," Ace elaborated further, "their health insurance policy was terrible. They were willing ta pay for tha costs of surgery, but that was about it. That left us with thousands o' dollars worth in hospital fees, rehab and training sessions, and otha doctor's visits. So, needless ta say, times were pretty rough fer a while."

"With only a high school diploma," Pam resumed, "there weren't many places that were willing to hire me, and the jobs that were available didn't pay nearly enough. By that point, I figured it was a good a time as ever to go back to school and finish my degree. So, for several months, I stayed at home and took classes online during the day and took up a temporary job as a convenience store clerk at night. I crammed a year's worth of classes into just a few months and became registered as a pediatric nurse. Then, I started using my new salary to start paying off my bills..."

"Fer a while," Ace broke in again, "she even kept up her night shift at tha store while she worked at tha hospital durin' tha day just to bring in some extra money. At tha time, I was old enough ta get a job myself, so I started workin' too and used whateva I got ta help out."

"Wow..." Lexi truly didn't know what to say. Such a hard-luck story made her a little careful to avoid saying anything that might come off as either insensitive or pretentious. "It must've been difficult..." she finally settled on saying.

"Yes, it certainly was..." Pamela finished with a reflective pause as if the events had just happened recently and were still fresh on her mind. "But considering where we are now, I'd say that we made it out okay. I mean, I never would've dreamed that my own son would one day become the leader of a real team of superheroes!"

The newfound sense of content in her voice made her son smile.

"Funny the way things work out sometimes," Lexi responded with a small smile of her own.

"Oh, and before I forget," Ace brought up, digging into his sweatshirt pocket, "I got ya a little somethin'."

"Oh Ace, you didn't have to do that..."

"Of course I did," he assured, ignoring the typical 'mother' response. "What kinda son would I be if I didn't give my motha at least a little somethin' fer her birthday?" As he talked, he pulled out the small black box and motioned it to her. She seemed a little hesitant to take something that seemed so fancy in its presentation, but Ace continued to hold the box before her with a patiently relentless look until she finally gave in and took it from him.

Opening it up, her mouth dropped open in awe."Oh Ace..."

"Happy birthday, mom."

"...you shouldn't have..."

"Well, like I said... I wanted to. You've done a lot fer me ova tha years mom, and I probably wouldn't be here right now if it weren't fer you. So, I figured it was time I got ya somethin' a little special fer a change... ya know, now that I can."

His mother didn't readily respond, but gave him a sweet look that probably said more than her actual words could. She had to admit that it felt strange to receive such a gorgeous piece of jewelry from her own son, but she also understood that it probably meant just as much to him for finally being able to give her such a gift as it did for her to receive it. With that in mind, she gladly accepted it.

"So... whaddya think?" Ace asked anxiously, still awaiting a more solid response.

Pamela let out a happy sigh, "It's beautiful..." Closing the box, she leaned in and caught her son in a warm hug. "I love it."

After holding their embrace for a moment or two, Ace threw Lexi a wink over his mom's shoulder, remembering that he had used her as a reference to pick out the gift.

Lexi smiled.

• • •

"It was nice to finally meet you!" Pamela said to her as the three of them stood together, ready to part ways. Their dinner meeting had taken up a good half-hour longer as Ace and Lexi indulged her with stories of their various adventures (and misadventures) on the team. She seemed to be fascinated with how unique their lives were and relished the opportunity to pick their brains.

"Likewise!" Lexi answered cheerfully. "So, are we going to see you later at the Recognition Ceremony?"

"Of course! What kind of mother would I be if I didn't at least stick around for something like that?

"Cool, maybe we'll see you there... and hey, maybe you'll even get to meet the rest of the team!"

Pamela laughed, "That would be wonderful."

"Hey mom," Ace interrupted, "do ya think I could talk ta ya fer a second? Ya know... in private."

His mother's smile straightened a bit, detecting the note of seriousness in his voice. "Of course" she answered.

Ace turned to his second-in-command, "Ya mind givin' us a second, Lex?"

"Oh yeah, yeah..." she was quick to affirm, "take your time. I'll just look at some stuff over here for a minute." She pointed to a nearby souvenir shop and started walking in that direction. Meanwhile, Ace ushered his mom over a few feet in the opposite direction to a slightly more open area.

"You know, Ace," she made sure to say before Ace got into whatever he wanted to talk about, "I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to spend a nice meal with me. It seems like it's been quite a while since we've actually had time to see each other."

"Well, it's tha least I could do."

"So what's on your mind?"

Ace paused for a quick second to decide on the best way of asking her. "You are doing okay... aren't ya, mom?"

"Absolutely," she assured, "I've been doing just wonderfully."

Ace hesitated for another second before leaning in slightly and dropping his voice. "And... err... has she... been keepin' up her end o' tha deal?"

Pam finally started to understand what the issue was. "She's been like a saint to me," she clarified. "There's no need to worry, I'm in good hands."

Ace smirked slightly at her. "I guess I just needed ta make sure..."

His mom put a hand on his shoulder, "I understand Ace, but you don't have to worry about me so much anymore. Things are different now... and besides, I should be the one worrying about you now that I know about all of the messes that the six of you get yourselves into." Her voice was firm, but comforting, like a voice that could calm a storm.

Looking into her eyes, Ace could see the degree of her sincerity and it filled him with a warm relief. "I guess things really have changed, huh?"

The two bunnies pulled in for another hug, Pam patting her son's back a few times. "Not as much as you think, Ace... not as much as you think." The leader couldn't help but tighten his embrace ever so slightly, making sure not to let go a second too soon.

"Alright, I guess it's time fer us ta head out," he said after finally deciding to let go.

"I understand. Now, in case I can't find you later, I just want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you... so I want you to stay safe, okay? And make sure and take good care of that team of yours. Especially her..." she looked over at Lexi who was busy looking through a rack of T-shirts. "She seems like a nice girl."

Ace grinned, "Don't ya worry about that. I've got it all unda control!"

His mom chuckled softly, "I'm sure you do."

"Thanks mom, and that goes double fer you, too. Take care of yourself."

"Absolutely."

They gave each other one more quick hug before Ace started walking away. "See ya soon!"

"Bye Ace..."

It had only been a minute, but Lexi had become pretty bored with what the store had on display, so once Ace returned, motioning for the two of them to head out, she gladly complied. Before they had gotten too far, she turned back to Ace's mom behind them and gave her a quick wave goodbye, which she gladly returned.

"You know, boss, your mom's pretty cool," she commented. "I'm glad I finally got to meet her."

"Yeah, I figured tha two o' ya would get along."

"How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"Well, I haven't actually had a chance to visit her for tha past few months, but I try and make sure ta give her a call at least once a week er so... just ta make sure she's doin' okay."

"Awww, you're such a momma's boy," she teased.

"What," Ace asked, uncharacteristically losing his cool for a second, "I am not!"

"It's okay," she responding calmingly, "I actually think it's sweet. You just really care about her, that's all."

Ace quickly calmed himself down, "Well what can I say? She's done a lot fer me..."

A momentary pause of silence pervaded them as curiosity found its way into Lexi's mind. The topic she was thinking of was surely a delicate one and she wondered if it was even a good idea to bring it up. It seemed like a tricky situation, but she decided it would be better to ask him now while they were on a related subject.

"So Ace..." she began cautiously, "can I ask you another personal question?" He looked at her for a moment with a somewhat suspicious gaze. "I mean," she continued, "you've already told me a little bit about it, but I was hoping I could ask you something else..."

Ace was already sure he knew what the question was. "Sure, what is it?"

She paused again. "Do you know... why he left?"

He sighed to himself and lowered his eyes a bit. "I honestly don't even know… I was only four years old at tha time. I just woke up one day and he was gone…"

"Does your mom know what happened?"

He shook his head, "Apparently she was left in tha dark, too. She's told me before that she remembers him seemin' unusually distant and preoccupied fer a while before he left, but she nevah knew what was really on his mind. He nevah talked about it. He didn't even leave her a note goodbye once he was gone. My mom always said she knew that, deep down, he was still a decent guy, and that he must've had his reasons… but I just don't know. Ta be honest, I barely even remembah what my dad looked like…"

They walked in silence for a second, both thoroughly absorbed by the topic, until Ace decided that he would close the matter himself. "But all that's in tha past now. I honestly don't care what his reasons were, if he had any. It was his problem he left, not mine. My mom and I got along just fine without him…"

Lexi looked up at her partner to see that his eyes still looked rather withdrawn. She couldn't help but think of her own parents and how it would've felt if either of them walked out on her. It almost hurt her to see that Ace actually felt that way about his own father, but she couldn't really blame him. In fact, she felt a little guilty for bringing such a heavy subject back into their conversation. Now she was only focused on finding a way to somehow relieve the tension in the air.

In the end, she decided to take a page from Ace's book.

"So…" she said after a moment, "spiders, huh?"

Ace's straight-lined expression broke into something that looked a little more like a smile.

"That's better."

• • • • •

Releasing a loud belch, Slam tossed yet another ravaged turkey leg bone into his pile of scraps. He picked up the last leg on his plate – his fifth one so far – and licked his chops eagerly before sinking his teeth in. On any normal day, he could've had all five slabs of meat in his stomach within minutes, but right now he was taking it a little slower since he still had some time to kill before Duck came back from his "volunteer work." The Tasmanian certainly didn't mind since it meant that he could spend even more time treating his palette to the savory flavors of fried, greasy meat.

Of course, it didn't take long for Duck to show up.

Slam was only halfway through his last leg before the mallard walked up to his table, drying off the remaining exposed parts of his body with a towel.

"Can you believe it?" he complained. "A full hour! I was stuck in that stupid tank for the longest sixty minutes of my life! Talk about a waste of talent…"

Slam snickered.

"Don't laugh at me!" he protested defensively. "I wasn't the one sitting on his butt and gorginghimself while his friend was subjected to perpetual drowning! And if I recall correctly, you threw a good number of pitches yourself, buster!"

As if it was supposed to make everything better, Slam scooted a medium-sized paper traycloser to his teammate. It was filled with a generous serving of chili-cheese fries, one of Duck's personal favorite snack-meals. He could still see the smoky vapors of freshness rising up from the dish.

"For me?" he asked. Slam nodded.

He eyed the dish for another second scrupulously as if it were some kind of trick before he decided to take a seat, pulling in his plate. "You're lucky I'm so hungry, or I'd still be pretty mad…" he reasoned. Slam figured that would work.

As Duck immersed himself into the new meal, Slam picked his bone clean and lazily tossed the last scrap with the others, belching loudly again.

Duck waved his hands in the air in front of his face, "At least turn your mouth away," he admonished. "I'm still eating here!"

"Sawree…"

Duck looked over at the scrap pile sitting next to them, attracting flies. "Five turkey legs?" he asked. Slam nodded. "And let me guess… you're still hungry, aren't you?" Slam nodded again, this time while picking those massive teeth of his.

The mallard sighed, "Well I suppose you've still got time to stuff yourself some more while I'm finishing my food. I wonder what else they got around here..."

Just then, the mallard was interrupted by a booming voice. "Come one, come all!"

The two of them exchanged curious looks before the voice sounded again.

"Think ya've got what it takes? Think ya've got, I say, ya think ya've got that stomach o' steel? Well, ladies an' gentlemen, come on down an' throw ya hat in this here competition fa a shot at winnin' our grand prize! Just thirty minutes, I say, thirty minutes left ta sign up…"

The commotion was coming from an area a short distance away from them where a good mass of people were gathered. They were huddled in a rough semi-circle in front of what appeared to be a small stage. Behind the group, there were a few sections of free-standing stadium seats assembled, each with a few rows of seats. It was hard to tell what was going on from where the two of them were sitting, but Slam did notice that there were people walking around on the stage already, busy putting covered trays over a long, white table.

"I wonder what that's all about…" Duck thought out loud.

The words "stomach of steel" had grabbed Slam's attention the most, and whatever he smelled, it was delicious. With not much else to do, he got up from the table and found himself heading in that direction.

"Hey, where do you think you're going? I'm not done yet..!" Duck objected.

Slam thought for a second before mumbling something incoherent and continuing to walk away.

"Ha, easy for you to say!" he responded, more to himself than anyone else. It didn't look like his friend was waiting up for him though, so he started shoveling the fries into his mouth as quick as he could manage.

The Tasmanian started picking up more details the closer he got to the stage. In the stands, there were already small groups of people beginning to take their seats, apparently eager for whatever event this was to start. The collection of people that stood before the stage was well-mixed, but he noticed an extra amount of older, more heavy-set men among them. The people were murmuring excitedly as the announcer onstage continued to verbally sell the occasion.

"Anyone out there think they got what it takes ta win it all? I say, ya think ya can wrestle up there with tha big dawgs? Then step right up an' prove yaself a champion!"

His words seemed to be doing a pretty good job of spreading hype, but Slam still didn't feel like he had a good enough idea of what the commotion was about. Once he caught up with the huddle of people, he picked up on a conversation.

"Looks like we've got some pretty tough-looking competition," one guy said.

"Are you kidding? I can take all these fools," another boasted in reply. "I've been training for this contest for two months already. There's no way I'm gonna lose!"

Curiosity piqued even more, he walked up to the first guy and tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. "Skyuuze meeh..." he mumbled.

The man turned to face him, but froze for a second as he realized just who was trying to talk to him. "No way," he exclaimed, "it's really you... Slam Tasmanian! Are you here for the contest?"

"Huuh?"

"What, Slam's competing?" the second guy asked, misconstruing his friend's words. "Oh man, I don't know if I like my odds anymore..."

They had both spoken loudly enough that it led to more and more people talking amongst themselves, spreading the rumor that the largest Loonatic might in fact be trying his hand at whatever competition they were involved in. As the people continued to murmur more and more loudly, the words eventually found their way to the ears of the man on stage.

"Do mah ears deceive me?" he pondered with budding excitement. Scanning the crowd, his gaze came to rest on the wide figure in the back, dressed in a black and purple supersuit. "You there, boy...!" he declared, pointing his finger directly at him.

As if he had instructed them to do so, the people in the crowd parted off to one side, creating a small pathway that ran between the two of them, putting Slam directly in the man's eyesight. "Who mee?" Slam asked once he noticed that all of the attention was suddenly focused on him.

"Yes you," the man verified, "why dontcha make ya way on ovah this way, son. I say, I'd like ta talk with wit' ya for a second."

The Loonatic hesitated a bit before slowly walking up to the edge of the stage. The man looking at him now was quite large, but most of his body mass seemed to be concentrated on his torso, leaving his legs to look rather miniscule by comparison. He was dressed in a striking all-white tuxedo and clutched a bright and expensive-looking red cane - even though it seemed like he was using it more for aesthetic purposes rather than mobility. His face was long and pronounced and the bright red color of his hair and goatee seemed to stand out all the more next to the color of his suit. In fact, it looked like almost everything about this man gave him a large and stand-out appearance... even his voice had an echoing quality all of its own, bathed in a very distinct southern drawl.

Slam had recognized him right away, often having seen him in advertisements on TV or as a guest for many major city events, such as Basherball tournaments. His name was Mr. Leghorn.

Once he reached the stage, the personality knelt down a little and began to speak in a manner that suggested an intention of keeping their conversation one-on-one. If that was the case, his booming voice quickly betrayed him.

"Mistah Tasmanian," he began, "I hear, I say, I've heard that you've got quite tha appetite. Isn't that right, son?"

"Uh-huuh," he replied confidently. Proud of it too...

Mr. Leghorn smiled, "Well, in case ya haven't noticed, I'm puttin' togetha a little contest here... an eatin' contest ta be more specific. How would you feel 'bout puttin' your skills to tha test an' signin' up too?"

Slam mulled on the idea. "Food?" he asked, being most curious about what they would be eating.

"Well ya see," he said while draping one of his arms around the potential new contender and gesturing to the tables behind him, "my assistants here are busy settin' up trays full o' my famous Chili Gurt sandwiches." One of the servers lifted a lid off one of the trays to reveal a neatly arranged, pyramid stack of what looked like slightly sloppier versions of Sloppy Joes.

"Tha goal is ta see how many a those puppies ya can eat in five minutes. Once tha five minutes are up, tha contestant who's eaten tha most sandwiches is declared, I say, crowned the winnah!"

Slam took another long look at the food on the table and instinctively licked his lips.

"Looks like you're a fan a my chili gurt, ain't ya son?" he asked, having taken notice. Slam nodded. "Well, that's all tha more reason why ya should sign yourself up! I mean, whaddya got ta lose?"

The prospect was certainly intriguing, but just as he was about to address another issue of his, Duck broke himself through the crowd of people to offer his say on things. "Dammit Slam, what are you off getting yourself into this time?!"

Mr. Leghorn's attitude actually seemed to perk up even more with his arrival. "Why, if it isn't anotha one a tha Loonatics, comin' ta see me! Your name's Danger Duck, ain't it boy?"

"Mr. Leghorn..." Duck began, keeping his tone firm, but lightening up a little, "it's a pleasure to meet you in person." Just like Slam - and for many of the same reasons - Duck was also very familiar of this man. He personally couldn't help but admire such a present and outspoken personality, like his own. "What brings you to the festival... and... what're you and Slam talking about?"

Mr. Leghorn chuckled heartily, "Why, I was just tellin' your little buddy here that I'm holdin' a Chili Gurt sandwich eatin' contest and was hopin' I could get him ta sign up. What about you though, Duck? I say, ya wanna throw your hat inta tha ring?"

Duck looked over to the table at the slop that they were calling sandwiches, and nearly lost his appetite. Chili gurt could be okay... if you didn't think about what you were eating too much. Seeing so much of the goopy, brown meat product in one place certainly didn't seem very appetizing to him...

Although...

"That depends. What do I get if I win?" he asked.

Fa starters, ya get ta take home thatfancy-lookin' trophy ova there..." he pointed to a small podium standing at the back of the stage that proudly displayed an oversized silver-and-gold-plated trophy cup, adorned with all kinds of designs, insignias, and stylistic metal adornments. The light even seemed to be hitting it at just the right spot, as any part of the cup that could give off a reflection scattered the light into countless gleams and sparkles. Being the trophy for an amateur eating contest, it was quite extravagant.

"Oooooh, trophyyy..." At the sight of it, Slam knew he wanted it in his room. It was practically calling his name.

Mr. Leghorn snickered with accomplishment, "Looks like I'm winnin' someone ovah already. I say, ya willin' ta give it a shot, Slam?"

Even though he was practically ready to ask where the sign-in sheet was, he stopped when he remembered the issue he had tried to bring up before Duck interrupted them. He tried to express the concern he was having, but since it wasn't something that could be adequately explained in a short blurt of words or gestures, the resulting string of incomprehensible language wasn't well translated.

"Say, Mistah Duck, would you be so kind as ta help me figure out what tha big guy's tryin' ta say?" he asked.

Duck nodded and turned to the Tasmanian, "What's up?"

Slam then proceeded to repeat what he had tried to say before, but this time with a more precise tone and a helpful hand gesture or two. The words themselves weren't any more decipherable, but it all seemed to make sense to Duck. "He says he doesn't know if it's fair for him to join, since he's already got a festival thrown in his honor. I he were to win, he wouldn't want to steal the prize away from somebody else, just like that."

It comforted him to know that his friend was able to understand him. In fact, the team as a whole had actually gotten quite good at making sense of the strange mix of garbled English and primitive Tasmanian tongue that was Slam's language. When he was around his friends, he didn't feel the typical pressure of trying to communicate properly like he would often get with most people.

Mr. Leghorn rubbed his chin, "I guess I can understand that…"

"Are you kidding?" a man spoke out from the crowd. "I would love to have a matchup with you!"

"Yeah!" another person said in agreement. "Now that's what I call a challenge!" Many of the people gathered there started murmuring in agreement with the two of them.

"Reeally?" Slam muttered.

"Of course, man!" a third guy said, stepping forward. "Winning an eating contest is one thing, but if I can say that I won that contest by defeating the legendary stomach of the Twisted Spinner himself… now that's a prize!"

The agreement from the crowd was much louder this time as most of them either cheered or whistled in agreement. Slam couldn't hide that familiar beaming smile of his from seeing all the support.

"I say boy," Mr. Leghorn said contently, "it looks like we've made up ya mind for ya!"

"Now just hold on a second!" Duck objected. "Unless my watch is wrong Slam, we've only got a little less than an hour before we have to be somewhere, remember? Besides, it's not even worth it! You'll stuff your face full of that slop – no offense – until your stomach explodes, and for what… some run-of-the-mill trophy? Sounds like a giant waste of time if you ask me. So I for one am getting outta here and finding some real food. Come on, Slam…"

Duck could only march past the edge of the crowd before the man on stage offered one last incentive.

"So I guess you're not interested in our otha grand prize…"

Despite his convictions, Duck stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head back suspiciously. "Huh?"

"Why don't ya take a look at what it says on that there sign ovah there…" he said schemingly, pointing to a large white sign that was propped up on the other side of the stage.

It read:

"4:45pm – Acmetropolis First Annual "Gurt Gut" Competition. Grand prize: a dazzling gold and silver-plated trophy and a "generous" cash award! Sign up now! Tonight's earnings are…"

Duck's eyes widened and his mouth went dry as he stared at the monetary figure written in marker underneath those words.

"… $5,000!"

"Five thousand dollars…" he said weakly.

"That's right, son!" Mr. Leghorn replied proudly, knowing that the mallard had surely been caught. "I was talkin' with tha guys running this here festival and I got them ta let me use 1% of tha total ticket sales as tha prize money fa my little contest. I guess, I say, I guess a lot more people showed up than they were expectin'. Either way, it's all good fa me!" He laughed boisterously at the idea. "So what do ya say now, boy? Ya get, I say, ya gettin' a change o' heart?"

He looked up to see that Duck was no longer in his spot at the edge of the crowd, but had instead raced over to Slam's side with a less-than-coincidental surge of enthusiasm. He was talking unusually fast.

"You know on second thought , I heard that chili gurt stuff is chock-full of… manly… goodness… and that's something you could always have more of, right big guy? Of course I'm right, and I guess we do still have some time to kill before the ceremony starts so why don't we go ahead and give this little game a shot, huh? It'll be fun, don't you think so?"

Duck's energy caught the Tasmanian off-guard.

"So does that mean I can count tha two o' ya in?" Mr. Leghorn asked.

"Oh no, not me," Duck made sure to specify, "there's no way I could win against a guy like Slam, but Slam's a guy like Slam, so I'm pretty sure that he could easily mop the floor with the rest of these guys and make me – I mean, us – rich! Isn't that right, Slam?"

"Uh-huuhh!" Slam answered, deciding not to read too much into Duck's motives since it meant that he could participate.

"Alright then!" the man said, raising his voice. He may not have gotten both of them, but he was perfectly satisfied with the one he was getting. He turned to his servants onstage, "Let's see if we can get this guy some entry forms!"

• • • • •

"Hey look over there," Lexi pointed out, "It's Tech and Rev!"

After devoting some time to the various festivities, Ace and Lexi had only just decided to change back into their uniforms and were now en route to the Central Plaza, hoping to arrive there with plenty of time left before the Recognition Ceremony began.

Both of them turned their full attentions to where Lexi was pointing to see the two teammates coming towards them at a slow jog. Ace took notice that, for whatever reason, Rev wasn't the one eagerly leading the way like he usually would. It almost seemed like the roadrunner was intentionally trying to hold himself back… and maybe it was just his imagination, but it looked like his stride was a little… inhibited.

"Well well, look who we ran into…" Tech began once they had caught up.

"Hey-Ace-hey-Lexi-have-you-guys-been-enjoying-this-place-as-much-as-we-have-because-I-just-have-to-say-that-this-place-is-awesome!"

"We sure have, Rev!" Lexi answered with a smile.

"So what've you guys been up to?" Ace asked. Hearing the eagerness and overall normalcy in Rev's demeanor was enough for him to put aside his concerns for now.

"Not much really," Tech answered. "After setting up the Loona-Loop, we grabbed a little something to eat and just started… exploring, I guess."

"Ya didn't run inta any problems with tha delivery, did ya?"

"Well, we did have an issue with the battery, but we fixed it up pretty quick. It was lucky that Rev was with me… otherwise, I might still be over there trying to fix everything."

"Is that right?"

"You-shoulda-seen-it-Ace-first-the-wheel-got-all-big-but-then-it-wouldn't-turn-on-because-the-battery-was-all-dead-and-stuff-so-we-asked-for-a-bike-and-then-we-did-all-this-stuff-to-it-and-then-I-started-running-really-fast-and-it-didn't-do-anything-so-then-I-ran-even-faster-and-then-it-did-do-something-but-it-still-wasn't-very-fast-so-then-I-started-running-even-faster-and-finally-the-battery-started-charging-really-fast-and-then-the-battery-was-all-charged-up-so-Tech-put-it-in-the-ride-and-it-finally-turned-on-and-everyone-was-happy-and-I-was-really-really-tired-but-then-I-got-some-rest-and-now-I-feel-fine!"

Lexi gave Tech an amused sort of look.

"He's been eating," he explained.

Undeterred by the massive wall of words, Ace went up and good-naturedly tussled the feathers on the runner's head, as he would do from time to time. "Nice woik there, Rev."

Rev kept his smile as he smoothed out his crest. "So-have-you-guys-done-anything-special?"

"Nothing much for us either," Lexi replied. "We met up with someone for lunch and then we just started looking around. Ridin' a few rides... playin' a few games... hittin' a few shops... you know, just seeing what this place has to offer." She decided not to be any more specific about who they had met for lunch, since she wasn't sure if that was something Ace wanted to get into. If he felt the need to address it in anyway, he could do it himself.

"Oh-yeah-that-reminds-me," Rev spoke up as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Check-out-this-cool-thing-I-found!"

Opening up his hand, he proudly displayed a small figurine connected to a small keychain that was a remarkable likeness of the roadrunner himself. Other than the fact that its head and facial features were a little bit larger than what was proportional, it looked almost exactly like a smaller version of Rev.

"Oh my gosh," Lexi squealed, eyes brightening, "that's so adorable!" With him offering, Lexi snatched the mini-Rev out of his hands and looked it over preciously. "Where'd you find this?"

"We ran into a shop a while ago that had all kinds of stuff with all of our faces on it," Tech answered. "The owners of the booth pretty much went nuts when we walked in and gave us a set of them as a gift. So, I've got one too..." He pulled a mini-Tech figurine out of his own pocket and showed it off with a grin.

"That's so cool!" Lexi exclaimed, handing the Rev figurine back to its original owner.

"They-had-one-for-all-six-of-us-so-we-got-some-for-you-guys-too" Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled out two more figurines, one of Ace and the other of Lexi, and handed them over.

"Oh wow..." Lexi muttered as she gleefully looked over her plastic caricature. "This is so going on my hip!" Using the keychain, she hooked the mini-Lexi through one of the loops on her belt.

"The details on these things are amazin'..." Ace said as he inspected his own likeness. He was probably somewhat less flattered by them than his teammates were, but he could still appreciate such amazing handiwork. "They must've been pretty big fans."

"We also got some for Duck and Slam too," Tech mentioned. "Speaking of which, you haven't seen them around, have you?"

"Sure haven't," the leader replied.

"They-said-they-were-coming-here-to-the-Food-Court-but-we've-been-around-here-for-a-while-now-and-haven't-been-able-to-find-them-anywhere-either-so-that-probably-means-they're-long-gone-by-now."

"I can only imagine what the two of them together might be getting themselves into right now..." Lexi wondered aloud.

"Eh, I'm sure we'll run inta 'em soona o' later..." Ace said before he was distracted by a distant commotion.

"Step right up, ladies an' gentlemen," the voice echoed, "and lay witness ta the first annual Gurt Gut competition! Show starts in five, I say, just five more minutes!"

"What's that all about?" Lexi asked, noticing the bunny's diverted attention.

"I think it's some kind of eating contest," Tech informed. "I've been seeing posters for it all over the place."

The voice continued to proudly announce the event. "Sixteen, count 'em sixteen titans in all, ready ta duke it out fa tha grand prize! Who has what it takes ta become tha champion?!"

"Hey, whaddya say we take in a little show real quick before tha ceremony starts?" Ace asked his companions after finding himself drawn in by the theatrics.

"Are you sure we have time, chief?" Tech asked. "I thought we only had twenty minutes before the it started."

"Actually," Ace corrected, "since tha fan session lasted so long, they decided ta push tha ceremony back ta 5:30. I didn't say anythin' 'cause I still wanted ta make sure ya guys showed up on time."

"I was wondering why we weren't in such a hurry..." Lexi realized.

"So whaddya think now? I'm kinda curious ta check this out myself..."

"I'm-game!" Rev quickly answered.

"Well..." Tech began rationalizing, "I suppose that since we'd be putting ourselves into an area with lots of people, and we'd be staying in one place the entire time... we could be much more likely to find Duck and Slam than if we just wandered around aimlessly..."

"Why not?" Lexi said, freely giving in. "It's not like we've got anything better to do."

"Exactly my point," Ace agreed. "Now let's see if we can grab some seats."

• • •

"Alright Slam ol' buddy," Duck began supportively while rubbing the Tasmanian's shoulders, "if anyone can win this contest, it's you. Just remember, there's a whole wad of cash waiting for you as long as you stuff yourself more than anyone else!"

"Trophy…?" Slam reminded him.

"Yeah, that too… but don't forget about the money."

All of the contest competitors were gathered together behind the back wall of the stage as the spectators took their seats in the stands out front. While most everyone else was finding a way to mingle amongst each other, Slam found himself an empty chair to sit down in while his teammate was giving him "crucial, last-minute advice."

"Alright, pop quiz…" Duck coached, "what do you do if you come across a rotten sandwich?"

"Dah."

"That's right, you keep eating! Now what do you do if you start feeling full?"

"Dah."

"Attaboy, you keep eating! Now, what do you do if one of the other competitors falls off the stage and busts his head open?"

"…uh…"

"Come on, you know this one…"

"…dah?"

"Exactly, you keep eating! Now what do you do if a giant bomb goes off in the middle of the contest and blows the entire stage and everyone around to smithereens?"

Slam didn't answer.

"You damn well better keep eating, that's what you do!"

The Tasmanian looked at him curiously, suddenly becoming very concerned.

"Look," Duck began explaining, "what I'm trying to say is that I don't wanna see you giving up on me. Obviously, the deaths of hundreds of innocent people would be a bad thing, but you get the point. No stopping or letting up no matter what, got it? This contest is too much of a sure thing for you to just throw away first place."

"Uh-huuh!" That was something he could agree to.

"That's the spirit! Keep up that attitude and you'll end up making me – er, I mean us – very happy, rich people…"

Slam rolled his eyes. Of course that's what Duck was most worried about. To be honest, the devil cared more about the trophy and the title that came with it than he did about the money. Sure, it was a nice bonus, but it really wasn't his main concern.

"Anyway, I'm gonna see if I can find something to drink. That lady over there is handing out some free water bottles, so I'll see if I can grab one. You thirsty?"

He thought it over for a second before nodding his head.

"Well that's too bad, because drinking water before eating spoils your appetite! Nevertheless, I don't want you going out there with a dry mouth or anything. I'll see if they have any little cups I can borrow…"

"At least he offered me something…" Slam thought to himself as the mallard walked away. Without his "coaching" to distract him, his attention started focusing on the people around him – his competition. Looking around, a good number of them seemed like the types who could actually present him with a challenge. Looking like they could guzzle down a full day's worth of food in one sitting, some of them even bragged about how skipping a certain number of meals was going to give them an edge. Slam had only stopped eating a few moments ago.

But even amongst the titans that seemed to be grabbing the most attention, there was one individual who caught his gaze more than anyone else.

The kid couldn't have been any older than twelve or thirteen years at most. He was a fairly skinny-looking kid with tanned skin and a head of messy black hair. At the moment, he was being led through the backstage area - barely within earshot - by an apparent friend of his, a fox anthro who was roughly his same size with a rusty-red fur color.

"I don't know about this, Marcus..." the kid said.

"What?" the fox questioned, "I thought you said you wanted to give this contest a shot."

"Yeah, I did... but some of these guys look like they're taking this thing pretty seriously."

"Ricky, it's an eating contest at a city carnival. I don't think you have to worry about it getting too serious."

"You're probably right... but -"

"Listen dude," the fox reasoned as he brought them to a stop, "I know some of these guys look pretty... heavy, but I think I can honestly say that I've never seen a guy as skinny as you eat as much as you do."

"You're not just saying that, are you?" Ricky answered cautiously.

"Of course not! If I was, why would I have pushed you to actually sign your name up? Seriously, if you eat half as much here as you do when you stay the night at my house, these guys don't stand a chance."

Ricky only responded with a smile.

Just then, a third individual - about their same age, but taller and with straight brown hair - came running up to the two of them with a set of papers in his hand. They looked like registration forms.

"Guys, guys," he began with an obvious urgency, "did you see how big the cash prize is?"

Ricky thought about it, "I knew there was one, but I didn't see how much it was."

"What is it, like $50?" Marcus asked dismissively. "Maybe $100?"

"Try $5,000!"

Both of their jaws dropped in unison. "Seriously?" they both asked.

"Yeah, they have a sign up front. First prize gets the trophy and five grand!"

"Ricky..." Marcus said excitedly while turning to his friend, "do you know how much useless crap you can buy with that kind of cash? I mean, that is serious videogame money!"

"Wow..."

"Videogames, Marcus?" the third friend broke in condescendingly. "Talk about a waste! If I had that kind of money, I'd buy the best, most awesome pair of basketball shoes in the world! Custom color, custom material, top designer brand... you name it!"

"For your information, Kyle," Marcus answered in reply, "videogames happen to be a very good investment. With that kind of money, you could buy all of the major game consoles and a small library of games for each of them! Besides, what good is blowing it all on one pair of shoes when you're just gonna wear them out anyway?"

"Well, it wouldn't waste all the money, just a lot of it," Kyle insisted. "Besides, you could easily just go for a few good designer pairs and still have enough left over for a whole closet full of other stuff to wear!" After putting up his rebuttal, Kyle turned to his more quiet friend for some fresh input. "What do you think, Ricky? Which one of us is right?"

"Yeah," Marcus pursued, "what would you do with $5,000?"

The kid reflected on his thoughts for a moment. "Well, both of those things sound pretty cool," he admitted, "but honestly... I'd probably just give the money to my parents."

His friends stared at him blankly.

"Guys," he explained further, "do you know how many rent payments that could cover for us? My family would be good for at least a few months..."

They didn't say anything in reply, but their expressions dropped considerably. By comparison, their ideas seemed outright childish.

"So..." Kyle began to ask, "did your dad ever get that job he interviewed for?"

Ricky shook his head, "Apparently, they decided to go with someone who had more experience. So it's pretty much back to square one again..."

"He's been at square one for a while now, hasn't he?" Marcus noted.

"Yeah..." the kid agreed glumly before perking himself up. "Well, that settles it!" He snatched the papers from Kyle's grip. "First place is as good as mine!"

"That's the spirit!" Marcus praised, relieved to see his friend finally convince himself.

"And hey, even if I don't win, at least I can say I tried, right?"

"True, true..." Kyle said, "but you better actually win, okay?"

Ricky laughed, "You just want a cut of the prize money, don't you?"

And that was the last that Slam heard of their conversation before his teammate returned.

"Here," he said, "they didn't have any cups, so I just poured out most of one of the regular bottles."

Duck held out the emptied container in front of Slam's gaze and snapped the Tasmanian out of his thoughts. Realizing what he was being given, he gave Duck an odd look.

"What?" he defended. "It's enough to wet your mouth, but not enough to spoil your appetite. I'm only thinking of you, here."

Slam shrugged and downed most of the bottle's contents in one gulp. Looking back at the group, he saw that the kid named Ricky had just finished filling out his papers and the three of them were beginning to walk away, probably to turn them in. He wasn't quite sure why, but the contest he was entered in suddenly didn't seem so straight-forward anymore.

He figured it best not to think about it too much.

•

"'Scuse me... pardon me, sir..." Ace said as he crossed through a small group of people to join his teammates in the stands. They had found a good open area near the top where they could watch the contest, and the leader had just returned with a few snack requests in tow.

"Alright, tha soda's mine..." he said, putting the drink down in his spot. "I've got two popcorns..."

"One of them's mine!" Lexi spoke up, taking the first snack.

"Over-here!" Rev said, claiming the other one.

"And this cotton candy's yers too, ain't it?"

"Yeah!"

Just as Ace was in the process of handing over the treat, Tech - who was sitting in between - snatched it away.

"Rev, I don't think you need any more sugar right now," he judged.

"Aww-why-not?"

"Because you've been doing nothing but eating since we left The Circuit, and most of it's been nothing but junk food. I think all that extra sugar is starting to make you a little jittery."

"Jittery? What're-you-talking-about-jittery-I'm-not-jittery-I'm-probably-the-least-jittery-person-in-this-entire-place-so-I-think-if-anyone's-jittery-it-must-be-you-'cause-it-certainly-isn't-me!"

Tech turned to Ace, "See what I mean? He's talking so fast that even I can't understand him, and that's saying something. You didn't understand him either, did you?"

"Well, I picked out some o' tha woids..."

"Point proven. I think we should handle this now before it gets out of hand later."

"Hey!" Rev objected.

"Eh, just let 'em have it, Tech. What's one more snack gonna hoit?"

Tech was still inwardly objected, but he decided his cause wasn't worth arguing for. "Fine... but if he starts bouncing off the walls at the ceremony later, I'm blaming you."

Somewhat reluctantly, he handed the candy back to the roadrunner sitting beside him who snatched it up happily, while sticking out his tongue at the coyote.

"So what's tha woid, Lex?" Ace asked the bunny as he took his seat.

While he was gone, she had been tuning her ears into the various conversations around her, hoping to find better information on the event they were waiting in the stands for.

"From what I've picked up so far," she summarized, "this is apparently some kind of promotional contest for Leghorn Industries. It's an eating contest where participants try to see who can eat the most 'chili gurt sandwiches' before time runs out. The winner gets a trophy and $5,000 cash."

Ace whistled impressively, "That's some prize..."

Tech scoffed, "Yeah, but that chili gurt is such slop. You couldn't pay me enough to eat that stuff."

"True," Ace agreed, "but I bet five grand is enough fa most people..."

"Guys," Rev interjected with a mouthful of sugar, "it's-starting!"

A few of the stage lights turned on as the attention-commanding Mr. Leghorn walked up to a microphone stand on the front part of the stage.

"Ladies, I say, ladies an' gentlemen..." he announced. "I'd like ta thank all y'all fa comin' out taday. Now, since I'm sure that most o' ya know who I am an' what this here contest is all about, I'll go ahead an' skip tha introductions fa now. So are y'all ready ta see just who's got what it takes ta go home a champion?"

The crowd roared in approval.

"Alright then! Now why don't we bring our contestants out here onstage? Y'all give 'em a big round of applause!"

As the spectators continued to cheer, the participants filed onto the stage one by one from either side, taking a seat at a long white table. One contestant in particular, the last one entering on the right, caught the Loonatics' attention.

"Wait a minute," Tech spoke up as he pointed him out, giving voice to what his teammates were already thinking, "that's Slam!"

"Well, whaddya know," Ace commented, "guess we don't have ta go lookin' fer those two after all. Who'd a thunk it?"

"Oh come on," Lexi interjected, "are any of you guys actually surprised to see Slam up there?"

Rev raised his hand, "I-am-a-little-bit."

Lexi smirked, "no you're not."

"Yeah-you're-right-I'm-not..."

•

"Y'all give 'em a big round of applause..." Slam heard from the announcer onstage.

He was standing off to the stage's right side, waiting at the back of a line of other competitors. At Mr. Leghorn's signal, the line of competitors slowly filed onto the stage one by one and Duck used this time to sneak in a last word to his teammate.

"Okay, this is it, buddy. Just keep your eyes on the money and you'll do fine."

"Uhhnn!" he grunted in reply.

"Now get out there and show 'em what you're made of!" With one final shove, he pushed his partner out into the spotlight. Emerging into the spectator's view, Slam heard the noise level practically double at the sight of such a familiar icon at their quaint little showing. Slam smiled shyly with a small wave as he moved to his seat.

Coming out of their lines, each of the contestants seated themselves at the long white table, starting from the outside and moving in. Since Slam was the eighth and final one in his line, that placed him at the very center of the table, sitting next to the last person in the other line. Once he found out who that was, his stomach dropped a little.

It was Ricky, the kid from earlier.

"Great…" he thought to himself. How was he supposed to get this kid and his little predicament out of his mind when he was sitting right next to him? He started to wonder how rude it might seem if he asked to switch spots with someone.

Sure enough, once the Tasmanian had taken his seat, the kid seemed to glow with the realization of who happened to be sitting next to him.

"No way… is that really you? Slam Tasmanian, the Loonatic?" he asked hopefully.

Slam was a bit nervous about engaging the boy, but he could never be rude to a fan. "Mm-hmm!" he answered with a smile.

"Oh that's so cool!" he fawned. "I've always wanted to meet you! My name's Ricky," he introduced while sticking out his hand politely for a handshake.

"Naashkabigyuu!" he said incoherently while returning the gesture. Ricky took it to probably mean something along the lines of "nice to meet you."

"I had no idea you were in this contest, too. It sure is gonna be a lot harder to win with you in the mix now. I'll bet stuff like this comes pretty easy for you, huh?"

Slam rubbed the back of his neck and babbled something unimportant.

"Don't you underestimate me though," he continued with a laugh. "I know I'm a lot skinnier than you, but I can eat quite a bit when I really want to…"

Slam chuckled.

"But to be honest, I don't think I'd mind losing to you. Sure, I might be a little disappointed if it were anyone else… but I don't think there'd be any shame in coming second to you. You seem pretty cool."

Slam managed a smile, but it was a little half-hearted. Ricky didn't seem to notice.

"But I'm still gonna try to win, okay?" he finished. "So watch out!"

Slam gave him another polite chuckle, but couldn't bring himself to respond any deeper. Why was he given the misfortune of sitting next to this kid? It seemed like the more he heard him talk, the more he actually liked him, and the more he began to fear the possibility of taking first prize away from him. Sure, Duck really seemed to want that money, and he really wanted that trophy. Plus, he did have a kind of reputation for his ravenous eating abilities. But even then, these reasons didn't seem to carry the same weight they had just moments before. The Tasmanian could only had a instant to think about these things before Mr. Leghorn reassumed the microphone to start the event.

"Pretty good lookin' group if I do say so mahself," he boasted. "So tha rules here are simple. Each of these fine young men… err… and women… have five minutes ta eat as much, I say, as many of these sandwiches - filled with mah famously delicious chili gurt - as they possibly can!"

At the mention of the food, a servant appeared behind each of them and uncovered the silver platters that sat on the table, revealing the sandwiches, each decorated with a colorful toothpick. They also put a large glass of water and small ceramic plate beside each of the contestants.

"Thabbathis?" Slam questioned about the plate. He had assumed this was a more hand-exclusive contest.

"It's for your toothpicks," his servant explained. "That's how we'll count up how much you've eaten."

"Now," Mr. Leghorn continued, "whoevah can eat tha most o' these sandwiches before time runs out will be crowned King Gurt Gut an' walk away with not only our fabulous trophy, but also five thousand dollars!"

The crowd once again erupted with excited applause. Though Slam failed to notice it himself, his teammates made sure to cheer extra strongly in support of him.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road! Jenkins, start tha timer!" The order to one of his technical assistants prompted a large electronic display clock positioned above the stage to put up the starting five-minute mark.

"Good luck, Slam!" Ricky made sure to say before they started.

"Youu tooo…" Slam returned happily enough, though his mind was still immersed in conflict.

"Now, when I say go," Mr. Leghorn prompted, "ya'll can start eatin'! Good luck ta all o' y'all! Tha contest begins in three… two… one… go, I say, GO!"

At the start signal, each of the contestants immediately reached for a sandwich and started stuffing themselves. Everyone onstage, Ricky included, ravenously immersed themselves into their food in hopes of outpacing their opponents. All of them, that was, except Slam. Sure, he appeared to be eating quickly enough to keep up with his competitors, but anyone that had ever seen the Tasmanian purposely shovel down food before, knew that he wasn't fully committing himself to this.

It wasn't a very conscious decision, but when Slam had taken his first bite, he had decided to hold himself back a little. Was he trying to throw the competition so that Ricky could win? Was he still intent on winning, but also trying to keep from finishing with too much of a lead? Was this some sort of dastardly scheme where he would trick his opponents into slowing down before he would coincidentally pick up his speed at the end to claim victory? To be honest, he didn't really know. But whatever his motives were, he must've felt the need to at least start at a slower pace, giving him more of a chance to see how he stacked upagainst the others and better weigh his options.

After a minute had passed, Slam placed his fourth toothpick onto the plate beside him and hungrily began on a fifth sandwich. After a few quick bites, he decided to take a second and survey the people around him. To one side, he saw that he was ahead of most of the other people by at least a toothpick or two. There was only about one or two that seemed to be keeping up with him.

But then he looked at Ricky's plate.

His eyes widened at seeing that the kid had a total of six toothpicks on his plate so far and was already halfway through his seventh. He even did a double take to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. His confidence aside, he didn't honestly think that this kid would provide him with some real competition, but the proof was right in front of him. His face hardened into a determined scowl as he shoveled bite after bite into his mouth, not once looking up from the table. He didn't even notice that the Loonatic sitting next to him had spent the last few seconds starting at him, stricken with awe.

Slam looked back down at his plate. As much as the idea of beating Ricky bothered him, he had to admit that the idea of being so easily beaten seemed to bother him even more. The idea was enough for the Tasmanian to bring out his inner, more competitive nature. Now he had a new objective, and whether or not he actually came out as the winner was irrelevant. All he cared about now was keeping up, and that meant he couldn't hold back any longer. It was time to show this kid what he was made of.

With a renewed sense of purpose and drive, Slam picked up two sandwiches at once and began eating them simultaneously. It only took him a second to realize that this didn't cut as many seconds as he would've liked, but he didn't care. His only thought was to move as many of those sandwiches off of the tray and into his stomach. Quickening his pace, he started doing whatever he could to catch up to his young, new rival.

The minutes crawled on by as all the competitors onstage continued to scarf down their entrées in heated competition. The longer it all kept up, the slower most of them seemed to go. Almost everyone had seemed to have slowed down, at least to some degree. Some of them were even starting to struggle with keeping what they had managed to swallow from coming back up. Still, they all continued on in hopes that they could at least outlast their opponents.

But, it was becoming increasingly more obvious that this was turning into a two-man contest, as the two individuals seated in the center of the table had far outperformed anyone else up to that point. Both Slam and Ricky had actually managed to double the numbers of some of their slower competitors, and their closest competition was still a good minute's worth of food behind them. Whether the two of them were even aware of the lead they were carrying was up for question, since it seemed like they were both too preoccupied with their pacing to be thinking much of anything.

He wasn't keeping track of any actual numbers, but Slam guessed that the two of them had to be neck and neck. He had caught up to his eating speed nicely, and at most, Ricky could only be a sandwich or two ahead. The Tasmanian had practically shut off any form of inhibitory response coming from his brain to focus only on eating as much as he possibly could. As time dragged on, he started becoming painfully aware of how full he was getting. This many sandwiches after all that carnival food was finally putting him at his limit. Nevertheless, he pushed onward with an unstoppable drive fueled by the heat of competition. He only had to last a little while longer…

As the final minute approached its completion, Mr. Leghorn went back up to his microphone stand in narration of the closing seconds.

"Alright everyone, help me give these brave young fightas a final countdown," he directed, prompting the crowd to voice along with him. "Ten… nine… eight…"

A poor young man at one end of the table snatched a plastic bag from a servant nearby and vomited into it.

"Seven… six… five…"

Another contestant on Slam's right side fell face-first into his tray of sandwiches.

"Four… three… two… one… TIMES UP, I SAY, TIMES UP!"

With the announcer's call, the man who was the closest behind the two dominating players threw down a half-eaten sandwich in frustration. Both Ricky and Slam fell backwards into their seats, dropping whatever they hadn't finished, both incredibly relieved at not having to take another bite. Both of their plates displayed a large mound of messy toothpicks, making it nearly impossible to tell who had won just by looking.

"Seems ta me that these two fine young gentlemen here, clearly came out on top! Now, let's see if we can get a head count goin' ta see who tha winnah is!"

The crowd applauded generously as their plates each went to a group of servants for counting. After double-checking their own numbers, the two groups consulted each other and then discreetly relayed the final tallies to Mr. Leghorn.

With a smile, he walked to the other side of the table and stood between the two possible victors.

"Ladies an' gentlemen… it looks like we've come to a decision," he started with a pause. "By a margin of only two, count 'em, two sandwiches… the winnah… taking home five thousand dollars and the first ever title of King Gurt Gut… is…"

He proudly raised the devil's arm up into the air.

"… Mistah Slam Tasmanian!"

Slam stared blankly into space for a second before the vivid applause pulled him back into reality. He had won! A wonderful feeling of triumph and payoff washed its way over him almost like the cheap confetti that was falling from above the stage.

One of the servants approached him carrying the shining silver and gold trophy cup which Slam was more than glad to take off his hands. He was stricken with awe at the fact that it was finally his. It looked even more incredible in his hands than it did on the podium.

But of course, that wasn't his only prize. He could only admire the trophy for a moment before another pair of servants walked up, proudly carrying an oversized novelty check marked for $5,000. His sense of amazement lingered as strongly as ever as he placed a hand on the check and smiled, posing for a quick picture. He couldn't believe it, he had actually won five thousand dollars! What was he going to do with…

"Oh crap…!"

The realization hit him like a brick wall, effectively dampening his spirits.

Ricky…

He hesitantly turned his gaze over at him, expecting the worst, but was surprised to see him looking quite content. He was looking directly at the Loonatic, eyes filled with a still proud, yet truly humbled expression. He was wearing a small smile and was clapping in calm reverence of the contest winner. The kid did say that he wouldn't feel shame in losing, if it was Slam who had beaten him.

But sure enough, what should've made the beast feel better only ended up laying another layer of guilt over him. Holding the check now, he couldn't help but feel a little selfish. It didn't make any sense to him. The other contestants were the ones who encouraged him to join in the first place, he had won fair and square, and his toughest opponent was even being gracious in his defeat. By all accounts, he shouldn't have any reason for feeling guilty. This was supposed to be a proud moment for him…

But he realized that wasn't what the issue was.

It was amazing how decisive he had suddenly become now, considering how unsure he had been when the contest started. While the crowd continued to shower him with recognition, Slam was hard at work with putting a plan together in his head… one that he was sure would make everything right.

• • •

"Well… here comes King Gurt Gut now…" Ace prompted jokingly as his largest teammate finally joined back up with the rest of his team.

The contest itself had just ended about ten minutes ago, and the five Loonatics (having already met up with Duck) were waiting in a huddle outside the stage for Slam to come back. The big guy had to stay back an extra minute or two to meet with Mr. Leghorn and his corporate team to get his prizes situated.

Being addressed with his newly earned moniker, he chuckled a little, partly out of embarrassment.

"Great job Slam," Lexi congratulated. "I would say that's the most I've ever seen you eat… but I think we both know that's probably a lie." Slam grinned at her.

"Wow-Slam-I-gotta-tell-ya-that-was-the-most-amazing-thing-I've-ever-seen-you-and-that-kid-were-like-neck-and-neck-pretty-much-the-entire-time-and-you-guys-really-had-me-on-the-edge-of-my-seat-'cause-honestly-for-a-moment-or-two-I-was-starting-to-think-that-maybe-you-wouldn't-be-able-to-pull-it-off-but-you-just-kept-right-on-going-and-you-really-did-pull-it-off-even-though-it-would-have-probably-been-really-easy-for-you-to-just-give-up-and-call-it-quits-because-I-know-I-probably-would-have-if-I-was-in-that-situation-but-then-again-it-helps-that-you-actually-like-chili-gurt-and-I-can't-stand-the-stuff-so-I-guess-it's-not-really-a-good-comparison-but-then-again—"

In one swift motion, Tech clamped the roadrunner's beak shut to keep him from talking himself in circles. His talking speed now was even faster than usual and his phrases even more dysfunctional. Techsighed, he knew he shouldn't have let Rev eat that cotton candy…

"Rev," he began calmingly, "why don't you do us all a favor… and eat this." He pulled out a large celery stick and held it out in front of him, hoping that the healthier snack might help offset his friend's overflow of sugar-induced energy.

"YAY-CELERY!" he chirped before snatching the vegetable away and nibbling at it furiously.

"Anyway," Tech went on, "good job, Slam. You certainly know how to put on a good show…" Rev nodded in agreement and Slam smiled at the both of them.

Duck approached him next. "Yes, yes, very well done Slam," he started rather formally. "You made us all proud, I knew you could do it, etcetera etcetera and so on… now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at…"

The mallard didn't have to finish for Slam to know exactly what he was talking about. He held out his hand, clutching a white envelope, and gestured it to him.

"Woohoo!" Duck cheered as he snatched the envelope up, knowing full well what was inside. "Oh Slam, it looks like that bottomless pit of yours is finally paying off! I'm rich, I tell ya, rich!" He kissed the envelope a few times.

"You do know that money belongs to Slam, right?" Lexi bleakly reminded him. "I didn't see you up there eating any chili gurt. Why should you get anything?"

"For your information, Lexi, I happen to be his coach. Since it was all thanks to my amazing coaching that Slam even got this money in the first place, I'd say that means most of it belongs to me..."

"Oh please, Duck," Tech condescended, "what would you even do with five thousand dollars?"

"Oh that's the beauty of it, my friend," Duck proudly defended, "there's no limit to the stuff I could get with a stash like this. I could buy a brand new wall-to-wall size hologram screen for my room... or, I could hire someone to sculpt a life-size statue of me that we can put in the living room... you know I've always said we could use one... or I could..."

As Duck continued to read off whatever idea popped into his head, Slam's attention was quickly diverted when he saw the familiar group of three younger boys walking by.

"You did good, Ricky," he heard Kyle say, "really you did. Thirty sandwiches is insane..."

"Yeah, even I didn't expect you to eat that much," Marcus agreed.

"Thanks guys," Ricky answered, "but let's just focus on finding a place where I can sit down for a bit. I feel like my stomach is gonna explode."

"Man," Marcus started to complain, "why couldn't they have had a prize for second place? You were too good not to walk away with something..."

"Aww, it's okay," Ricky concluded. "I don't really need anything..."

As he watched them walk away, Slam knew that now was the time he had to act on his decision. It was now or never.

"Duck," Tech critiqued in response to whatever else the mallard had proposed, "I don't think five thousand dollars is enough for something like that."

"Well then I could always just -"

"Yoink!" Slam sounded as he snatched the envelope from his friend's vulnerable grasp and started to walk away.

"Hey," Duck cried after him, "what's the big idea? Where are you going with my money?"

Lexi glared daggers at him.

"I mean... our money..."

But Slam didn't acknowledge him. As his teammates looked on, the big guy walked up to the three kids without hesitation. They all seemed surprised to see him, but only Ricky's seemed to be the welcoming kind.

"Oh hey, Slam!"

"Hiii!"

"Man, that was some contest, huh?" I'm so full I can barely move..."

Slam gave a soft chuckle in agreement as he rubbed his stomach.

"Oh, and congratulations by the way! If anyone deserved to win that contest, it was you."

"So Slam," Marcus began with a suppressed bitterness, "what are you gonna do with $5,000?"

Ricky sensed the implication in his words and lightly punched him in the arm.

"What? I was just asking."

Ignoring the fox's comment, Slam took a second to reflect on his next move. Once he was sure that this was indeed what he wanted to do, he held the envelope out to him. "Here."

"Huh? For me?" Ricky repeated, not expecting any sort of gift. Slam nodded, prompting the boy to take the envelope from him, not knowing what was inside. He and his friends looked at the gift intently as he opened the envelope and pulled out a pristine-looking check. The amount was for $5,000.

And it had been made out to Ricky.

"No way..." Kyle muttered.

"That's the..." Marcus started, but failed to finish.

"Slam..." Ricky's disbelief put him at a loss for words, "you... you... didn't..."

Slam only smiled with a nod.

"B-but... Slam... you earned this."

Slam shook his head, "Noo... you diid."

Ricky's eyes widened even more, "I... I appreciate this and all, but... I can't accept this. You won this fair and square. So here..."

Ricky gestured the envelope back to him, but Slam quickly pushed his hands back. "Nu-uhh... me trophy... you money... 'kaay?"

Ricky paused for a second as he absorbed what he was being told. "You really mean this?"

Slam only chuckled, but his certainty was plenty clear.

The kid honestly looked like he was about to cry, likely only holding himself back since he was with his friends. "Wow... I... I don't know what to say... except..." Without thinking too much about what he was doing, Ricky walked up to the Tasmanian and wrapped him up in a surprisingly strong hug. "Thank you... so much..."

Slam only smiled while he patted the kid's back with one hand and rubbed the top of his head with the other. Back in the huddle, his teammates observed the situation in awe.

"Well I'll be damned..." Ace commented, pleasantly surprised.

"WHAT?" Duck exclaimed once he realized the full magnitude of his friend's actions. "He can't just give it away, just like that. Not without going through me first..." With that, the hothead started huffing his way toward the scene.

"Duck, get back here...!" Lexi half-commanded, but to no avail. Showing up at Slam's side, Duck tapped his shoulders to get their attention.

"Ahem... excuse me... what do you think you're doing?" he asked scrupulously.

Both of them looked at the newcomer, but Ricky was the one to acknowledge him. Slam knew that Duck would protest his decision, so he chose not to explain himself.

"Hey, it's Danger Duck!" he said, happily recognizing another Loonatic.

"Yeah, uh... ya got that right, kid," he ranted, "and I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm also this guy's coach... okay? So that means that I have a say in what Slam here does with his winnings!"

"So..." Ricky put his own pieces together, a bit prematurely, "that means this was also your idea too, wasn't it?"

Duck hesitated, "What? Wait, that's not -"

Before he could finish, Ricky quickly approached him and gave him a hug of his own. "You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you so much..."

Duck's voice was unsettling more and more as he struggled in finding a way to deal with this situation. "N-now hold on a minute..."

"I bet you guys hear this a lot," he continued, "but both of you are real heroes. You guys are my heroes..."

Duck didn't answer. Something in the boy's response seemed to strike him motionless. An idea that froze him in his steps, but also left him with an unusually warm sensation. It was an odd feeling, one that he had never really felt before even when the eyes of hundreds of spectators were placed squarely on him. It wasn't a bad feeling though, it actually felt somewhat validating. Was it because of the way he addressed him... that word 'hero?' Whatever it was, it almost completely dismantled whatever argument he'd been trying to present.

"Well..." he finally managed to say, "what were we gonna do with that money anyway? We're superheroes after all, we've got all the stuff we could ever want..."

Slam was honestly surprised to see Duck's sudden change in position. Duck was even more surprised. What were these words coming out of his mouth? He wasn't sure if he liked them.

"Besides," he continued, "you did way better than anyone else. I've never seen a kid like you eat that much before. You deserve a little something..."

"You really mean that?" Ricky asked. Slam had already implied what Duck was saying now, but it was still nice to hear them as actual speech.

Duck swallowed before speaking. "Yeah... of course I do! You agree with me don't you, Slam?"

Slam responded with the biggest smile he had given all day, "Uh-huuh!"

Ricky wore a smile of his own, a very conclusive and peaceful one. "Hey Kyle," he said turning to his friend, "can you get a picture of me with these two real quick?"

"Sure thing!" he responded, pulling a phone out of his pocket.

"Come on, let's get a picture together. I don't ever want to forget this day..." he said happily as he faced the camera and stood between the two of them. Slam leaned in eagerly and smiled widely. Duck was still a bit confused over what he had just done, but he managed a half-earnest grin.

Once the picture had been taken, Ricky turned back to them and said, "I can't thank you guys enough. Believe me... I will always remember this..."

Duck turned and started walking back to his huddle. He had enough sap for one day, "Yeah yeah..."

"Byyeee!" Slam said, turning around himself to follow his teammate.

"Bye, Slam."

And just like that, the two groups separated, Ricky going back to his friends who were now in a frenzy over what had just taken place, and Slam and Duck rejoining their teammates to finally move on to the next item on their schedule. Of course, only Slam actually walked up to his teammates. Duck instead walked by them, hands in his pockets, eyes almost shut, in the apparent direction of the Central Plaza. He didn't feel like wasting any more time here.

"Awww..." Lexi teased as he walked by, "he has a heart."

"Shut up," he fired back simply without missing a step. Knowing it actually was about time for them to head off, his team followed closely behind.

"Ya know Slam," Ace said approvingly while putting a hand on his teammate's shoulder, "that was a real nice thing ya did there."

Slam smiled. That's what he had hoped.

• • • • •

"It is why we are gathered here on this day, the one-year anniversary of the meteor's impact," a booming voice proclaimed through a microphone. The voice belonged to the mayor of Acmetropolis, a dark-skinned and fairly stout older woman whose voice had the astuteness of an elder Victorian queen. Standing before a podium atop a massive circular stage, she addressed a crowd at least several hundred strong assembled in the heart of the Central Plaza.

Beside her, the six Loonatics stood proudly side-by-side each other. For about a good twenty minutes, they had been waiting in their spots patiently as speakers presented an array of stories and offered words of praise to the team. Right now, it was their job to look professional, and above all humble, while they were recognized.

"We are commemorating a time of change and hope for our city, a day which will be written in the history books forever. The road may have been long, and I know that adjusting to this strange new world has been difficult for all of us..."

Slam's food coma was setting in. He tried to fight it as best he could, but five turkey legs, thirty-two chili gurt sandwiches, and countless other in-between snacks were calling him away from consciousness.

"ZzzzzZzzzz..."

Lexi, who was standing right next to him, gave him a swift jab into his side with her elbow once his shoulders had started to slump.

"Whougethanotthaface!" he blurted out after waking up with a start. He was awake for the moment, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could last if this ceremony didn't liven up soon.

"Fortunately," the mayor continued, "we have had help from six extraordinary individuals who have watched over and protected us. One can only imagine the struggles they must've endured, and what they had to sacrifice to be standing where they are now, as proud protectors of Acmetropolis. Their efforts are nothing short of heroic and we can't be thankful enough."

A pause in her words summoned a generous roar of applause from the congregation.

"Amazing..." Lexi mumbled.

"What, tha applause?" Ace asked. "I figured ya'd be used ta all tha attention by now."

"Actually," she corrected, "I was thinking about Duck. I can't believe we've almost made it all the way through the ceremony without him finding a way to embarrass all of us somehow. Now that I think about it, he even behaved himself at the autograph session earlier. It's... amazing."

The two of them looked over at the mallard and saw his stoic facial expression, apparently lost in some kind of thought. She was right... for the moment at least, Duck was rather tame.

"And now," the mayor concluded, "to accept this small token of our appreciation, I'd like to present this commemorative plaque to -"

Out of nowhere, Duck sprang from his position, snatched the wooden prize out from her hands, and made his way to the front part of the stage.

"Thank you, thank you..." he proclaimed, self-servingly, "you know there are so many people in my life who have made this incredible honor possible... but enough about them...!"

The mayor's face hardened into a scowl as various reactions starting emerging from the crowd that ranged from genuine amusement to passive annoyance.

"Ya just had to say somethin', didn't ya?" Ace accused. Lexi could only bring herself to laugh.

"As I'm sure you all know," Duck continued, "it's not easy being a guy like me. There's a lot of hard work -" Before he could interfere with the proceedings any further, the mayor decided to take action and grabbed hold of the plaque just as the mallard was holding it up. After a small struggle, it ended up back in the mayor's possession.

"This award is for the team's leader..." she hissed at the rogue hero while also clearing it up for the spectators. "...Ace Bunny!" she proclaimed, initiating a surge of applause. As the actual award recipient approached the podium, the mallard skulked away in the opposite direction looking defeated.

"Thank ya very much mayor," Ace began formally. "I would just like ta start by sayin' that we all feel truly honored by all this city has done fer us not only today, but fer all this past year."

*Clink!*

"While it hasn't been tha easiest job o' keepin' watch ova an entire city..."

*Clink!*

"...I promise that my team and I will always do what we can ta ensure the safety of each and every one o' ya!"

*Clink!* *Clink!*

"But I have ta say, it's a good thing it's not every day that destruction..." Ace faltered as the random clinking noises became too apparent to ignore. A pellet caught his eye as it hit the top of the podium and bounced away. *Clink!* He looked up, but only caught a glimpse of the odd precipitation before another pellet landed on the top of his forehead, forcing his gaze away. "...rains down upon us...?"

By then, everyone had taken notice of the phenomenon that was putting a stall in their ceremony.

"What's-this-some-kind-of-hail?" Rev openly asked as the objects continued to fall, this time at a rate that seemed more like a light rainfall.

"I don't think so," Tech informed as he gathered some of the pieces into his open hand. Looking at his collected samples, the pellets were smoothly shaped, yet brittle-looking pieces of reddish-brown earth. "These are rock pellets."

Rev gathered a few into his own hand. "Gee-these-sure-are-some-funny-lookin'-rocks-though-Tech-what-kind-do-you-think-they-are?"

Tech squeezed his palm and found that the pellets could be crushed relatively easily. "I'm not sure Rev... but you don't usually find carbon structures like these here on Earth."

"So-you-think...?"

Tech nodded, "this must be some kind of meteor shower... how unusual..."

Lexi rubbed the top of her head after a few rocks had landed squarely on top of her. "You think they would've warned us about somethin like this on the news... or at least on the weather channel. I would've brought an umbrella or something."

"Well don't look now," Ace broke in, "but I don't think an umbrella is gonna help ya much this time around." Lexi looked up and was shocked to see a significantly larger rock headed straight for her. Since the leader had already seen it , he quickly shot a laser blast from his eyes at the meteor, reducing it to dust and debris.

*Crash!* The entire team's attention was diverted behind them where a rock had just landed on the stage, just a few feet away. Looking around them, it seemed like more and more larger rocks were landing at all sorts of odd places. A particularly larger one fell straight on top of a light post, bending the top half of it downward significantly.

Gasps erupted from the crowd once they caught sight of a rock the size of a medicine ball that was set to land right in the middle of the first few rows. Thinking quickly, Lexi shot an energy blast at the object from her ears just in time to save them.

The team took a collective look up at the sky and saw that the shower showed no signs of letting up, and that many of the oncoming rocks looked large enough to do some serious damage.

"Alright guys, I think ya know what ta do," Ace said.

At that point, Duck had decided to go ahead and rejoin his teammates.

"So much for that day off..."

---

And with that, we have finally reached the part of the story that starts to overlap with the original episode. And it only took me 80k+ words to finally get through the first 30 seconds to the episode :P Fun fact! With the release of this chapter, my story is already the 6th longest story EVER on this site for Loonatics fanfiction. And I'm only through the first quarter of this story. Yes, this story will have a total of 20 chapters. But don't fret, as most of them will likely be around the 10-15,000 word range, and not even close to the length of this chapter... But still, this is gonna be one LONG story...

Now that this chapter's out, I'm gonna take a couple of days off from writing. I've got a few important things coming up this week, and my time is needed elsewhere. But, I will slowly start putting an outline together and hopefully start the actual writing again after a few days of rest. My goal is to have the next chapter out by the end of November. But, fair warning, do NOT hold me to that.

Anyway, this is where the story starts getting REALLY good. From here on out, we start getting into the nitty-gritty details of each of the Loonatics. What were their lives like before the comet? How did they discover their powers? What did they do about them? All of these questions will finally be answered and it is my goal that you will NOT be dissappointed! Each character will get a span of two chapters to tell their story (parts one and two just like these last two chapters), and WILL be uploaded a week apart from each other. I will make 100% sure that I won't upload the first chapter until I'm at least 95% done with the second. There will be no such thing as a delay between parts one and two anymore.

Well, logistics aside, I hope you really enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! Feedback is essentially the reason that I write, so anything at all is greatly appreciated. You excited for what's to come? I know I am. :P Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter, I think it's the best response I've gotten since the first chapter. So Candlestic, Loonaticslover13, Chocol, kisa sohma cookie (I'm really liking your story by the way), Jamocha101, and my three guests... all you guys are freakin' awesome! :D

Now it's time to take it easy for a bit... and then move on to some real story telling.

First up... Ace.