Odelia couldn't help contemplating how eventful a career in Odd Squad could be. Why, not five minutes ago, she had been telling her friend Octavia while she loved being a scientist and repairing gadgets, sometimes she felt like if she had to look at green and white one more SECOND she'd scream out loud. Now the two of them were being chased around her lab by a huge man in a Midevial executioner's outfit with a flaming axe while a glamorous woman in a skimpy outfit stood nearby striking come-hither poses. It was rather a dramatic change of pace.

"Quickly, you silly Savage!" the woman commanded, arching her back and letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. "Strike down those two worthless wenches! I would have their heads for bangles on my belt!"

"I... I try, my adored one!" the masked man with the axe gasped, swinging wildly at Odelia and Octavia, knocking breakers and gadgets and equipment all over. "But e'en though I obey, still my heart rebels! They are but innocent young flaxen-haired maids! They remind me of my own long-lost daughters! Oh beauteous one, must we...?"

The woman spat. "I have told you before, I detest your insipid endearments! Call me Seductra or call me mistress! Nothing else!"

The hooded man bowed his head. "Yes, my mistress."

"And this is not the time for your soppy sentimentality!" She placed one arm in the air while running the other over her hip. "Those girls are agents of Odd Squad, our deadly enemy! If we allow them to escape, they could topple our carefully crafted plans! They must be dealt with!"

The hooded man nodded. "Of course. At once."

He raised his axe.

"Wait!" Odelia held up her hand. "You had daughters?"

"Aye," The Savage said sadly. "Four beautiful, sweet young girls, bright as the sun and fair as the dawn. I had a wife, still lovely despite her years at the hearth making her careworn. I had a noble position as town executioner in the far-away mystic kingdom of Gelswyld. And yet, I threw it all away to become a pawn of the sinister succubus Seductra!" He sighed. "I miss the life I once had with all my heart!"

Seductra hissed and clawed the air. "Strike her down, you fool! Strike!"

Now Octavia joined the conversation. "If you miss your old life, why did you leave it?"

"I knowest not!" he confessed. "One look at the witch's bountiful charms and my passion overwhelmed me! I despise what she has made me but still I thirst for her! She has created an unquenchable and incandescent fire in my soul!"

"Ugh!" Seductra made a face. "Don't remind me!"

"Yeah," Odelia made a face back at her. "She doesn't seem to like you much, though."

"True." The Savage sighed morosely, his breath making the bottom of his hood flutter. "She has no tender feeling for me. Though I long for her love, I must content myself with being her lackey. At least then might I gaze upon her now and then."

"I told you before, you brainless dolt!" Seductra struck another pose, leaning back against a desk and kicking her legs in the air. "Only Shmumberman is worthy of being my mate! You are fit only to aid me in achieving that goal!" The desk started to topple under her and she quickly jumped off.

"Wait a minute!" Octavia shook her head. "You mean, you're not only infatuated with this... person who openly despises you, you're actually helping her try to hook up with another man? Just so you can be in the same room with her?"

The Savage's head hung low. "It is all I deserve."

"No it's not!" Octavia insisted. "You deserve more than being exploited by a crazy lady who's taking advantage of you!"

Seductra hissed like a cat. "Stop listening to her! Strike!"

"Yeah!" Odelia agreed with Octavia. "You love her, she doesn't love you back. That's sad but why are you prolonging it? Just move on!"

"Shut up!" Seductra gnashed her teeth. "Shut up!"

"I gave up everything for her..."

"And that's too bad! But she clearly isn't worth it!"

"Maybe you can go back home and try to fix things with your family," Octavia suggested. "It might not work out, but it might. And even if it doesn't, it's gotta be better than what you're going through now!"

"You... You are right." He dropped the axe. It burst into flames and dissipated before it hit the floor. "I will return to Gelswyld and surrender myself to the authorities. I will do my penance and perhaps... perhaps I can rebuild my life..."

He blurred and vanished.

Seductra stared in disbelief. "Wha... Savage! Savage, what are you DOING? Return to my side this instant! I command you!"

She vanished too.

Octavia and Odelia looked at one another. "You think he'll be okay?"

"I dunno. We tried, at least."

They looked around to make sure there were no more villains waiting to strike.

"So anyway, I was gonna go to this new taco shop that just opened last week..."

#

Upstairs, Oscar was pondering what to do with the unconscious evil sasquatch that lay sprawled in his friends Otto and Olive's office.

O'Malley peered out from behind his shoulder.

"We gotta do something with him before he wakes up..."

He pulled a liftinator from behind his back. The man like beast rose an inch or so, then crashed back down as the device shorted out.

"Way too heavy. Maybe if I went and got the shrinkinator..."

"I'll go get it!" O'Malley volunteered.

Oscar was skeptical. "Do you even know what the shrinkinator looks like?"

"No," he admitted. "But you're not leaving me alone with that thing! What if he wakes up?"

"Well, we gotta do something! We can't just..."

A huge shadow fell over them and a harsh, grinding voice spoke.

"Worry not, brave elves. We shall take charge of our errant brother."

Oscar turned to see another sasquatch, this one wearing ermine robes and a crown.

"YOWZA!" He leapt backwards.

"Fear not, noble elf. We shall not harm you."

O'Malley smiled up at the creature. "That's King Devonian, ruler of Sasquatch City."

"Oh... Yeah..." Oscar straightened his labcoat.

"We apologize for any harm our renegade brother may have done to you elves. We shall take him off your hands."

"We're not elves," Oscar explained. "But thanks."

King Devonian stepped forward and placed his hands over the unconscious sasquatch. There was a pulse of rainbow colored energy and the creature disappeared.

"We were unaware Barrabas had escaped his prison cell in Sasquatch City. He has been returned there. And steps will be taken to assure he does not escape again." He smiled awkwardly down at the two boys. "Both of you elves should be commended for your skill in defeating him. His force of mind powers are quite formidable."

Oscar sighed. "Again, we're not elves. But thanks. Actually, though, it was more Octavia..."

"Yes," the sasquatch king nodded. "And now, I must take my leave. Farewell, gentle elves. We salute your gallantry."

"We're not..."

King Devonian vanished in a flash of rainbow-light.

"...Elves." Oscar looked around. "I guess we'd better tidy up before Otto and Olive get back." He sniffed and made a face. "I guess we'd better get the carpets cleaned too..."

#

And in another world next door to their own, the members of OSMU were pressed flat against the side of the van, held in place by a powerful force emanating from the elaborate metallic gauntlet worn by the teenager in silver swimtrunks and a finned helmet who stood before them.

"Okay, junior mints!" he demanded, his voice echoing in the underground caverns of the Shmumber Sanctum. "Pipe up! Let's have the deets! You pipsqueaks best chill and spill how you got into Shmumberman's private digs!"

"What is he talking about?" Orla asked, genuinely confused.

"He wants to know what we're doing here," Omar quickly explained.

"Ah," Orla nodded. "He is the guardian of this hidden lair, then. But why does he speak in such a bizarre and confusing manner?"

Oswald sighed. "It's sort of a clumsy imitation of 1950's beatnik slang. It was supposed to appeal to young readers."

"Indeed," Orla's brow furrowed. "How would it do that?"

Shaking her head in exasperation, Osmerelda stepped in. "Please, Shmumber-Lad! We're not invaders! We were sent here by Shmumbra!"

"It is true!" An omniscient whisper echoed around them. The beautiful, shimmering mermaid heroine stepped from the shadows, her fishtail now magically transformed into legs adorned with golden tattoos and the occasional stray scaley patch and sheathed in a beaded skirt of glistening, translucent and multicolored prisms.

"Shmumbra!" the young man exclaimed.

"Lower your weapon, Jeremy Jenkins," she told the teen. "These are our allies and noble guests."

"That's Jeremy 'Jazzbo' Jenkins, AKA Shmumber-Lad," Oswald whispered to the others, most of whom already knew that. "He's Shmumberman's sidekick. Sometimes he uses that alien glove-thingie to become Shmumber-Lad and help him fight crime."

The teen considered. "Well... If you say so..." Shmumber-Lad lowered his arm. The agents found themselves unstuck and able to move again. "But clue me in on the scoop, sea-lady! What's the dealio?"

"Yes," Orla nodded, straightening her uniform. "I also would know this... 'dealio,' as you call it."

Shmumbra held up her hand. "All shall be revealed in time. In the meantime, we will show you the Shmumber Sanctum, home away from home of our beloved colleague Shmumberman."

All four agents gasped. "A GUIDED TOUR of the SHMUMBER SANCTUM?"

Omar produced a camera. "Can I take pictures?"

Shmumber-Lad shook his head. "No flash photography."

"Oh," Reluctantly, Omar put the camera away. "Well, can I get a souvenir somewhere?"

"There is a gift shop at the end of the tour," Shmumbra gestured to a nearby staircase. "Now if you will follow me..."

#

Many miles away, the Little O's glider had fallen from the sky and crashed hard on the roof of a building. She lay there in the wreckage, dazed.

Circling above her, the weirdly costumed winged villain calling himself The Archaeopteryx emitted a victory screech.

"Now, little dove, you are MINE!"

He plummeted down toward her feet-first, legs straight out, the sharp steel daggers in the toes of his boots gleaming.

The tips of the daggers were pointed straight at her heart. She stared up at the triumphant villain heading toward her at full speed.

She took a deep breath.

Then she unhooked her Glider wings, shook them off, and nimbly rolled out of the way. The Archaeopteryx slammed feet-first into the concrete roof.

"YAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGH!"

Leaping to her feet, Little O grabbed the broken glider and tossed it aside. The villain lay crumpled, flapping his wings feebly.

"Oh..." he moaned. "Oh... I think I broke my ankles..."

"I'll call you an ambulance," she assured him, flipping open her badge phone. "Right after I figure out where I am."

#

Meanwhile, back on Earth Odd Squad in the back room of a small establishment called the Comic Treehouse...

"The city on the moon? Oh. Of COURSE. In the COMICS, that would be The FORBIDDEN City of the The Special Creations.."

The middle-aged man with the natty beard chewed on the earpiece of his horn-rimmed glasses. "It was in SHMUMBERMAN 16, I believe..."

Otis nodded, writing that down. "Thanks, Mister Mossler..."

"PROFESSOR Mossler. I prefer PROFESSOR Mossler." He did some equations on a calculator, considered them, and placed several three inch high tin figures on a plastic diorama.

Otis leaned over to Olympia. "Is he really a professor?"

Olympia shrugged.

Professor Mossler straightened the fedora he wore inexplicably with his safari jacket, burgundy turtleneck, and dress slacks.

"THAT was part of the Fallen ANGELS two-parter that helped ESTABLISH Johnny Bailwick as a MAJOR force in the COMICS Community..."

Olympia leaned over to Otis. "I thought it dragged a bit..."

Professor Mossler walked carefully around the large card table draped with the plastic sheet upon which he had constructed his diorama. "Hhm... Hhmmm..." He held up his fingers in a box shape and looked through them at his figures. "Hmmmmm..."

"So..." Otis said, jolting the Professor out if his reverie. "You're agreeing Bailwick was the major creative force behind Shmumberman?"

Professor Mossler sighed. "THAT is a question that's been DEBATED by comics SCHOLARS for YEARS. The way the early COMICS were CREATED was a highly collaborative PROCESS with the ARTIST and the WRITER contributing ideas at various POINTS in the STORY. So of course, at this late DATE, it's IMPOSSIBLE to really KNOW for CERTAIN how much EITHER man ADDED, especially considering their sharply DIFFERING accounts over the years..."

He paused, hurried over, and placed a plastic tower by a little blue line on the plastic sheet which was supposed to represent a stream.

"HOWEVER, it seems quite LIKELY the Special CREATIONS were BAILWICK'S idea. He developed a VARIATION of the CONCEPT in CONSIDERABLY more detail after LEAVING the Shmumber Comics and starting his Lost UNIVERSE books for Northern LIGHTS Publishers." He sniffed. "The company went UNDER before he could COMPLETE his story but they STILL have a MAJOR following among comics FANDOM..."

He stopped, grabbed little plastic tanks, and started placing them at various points around the sheet.

"And of course, it all became MOOT when Carlson BECK took over..."

Otis looked up from his notepad. "Uh... These Special Creations characters?"

"Yes. A particular FAVORITE of mine, I must ADMIT..."

"Uh, yeah. Was one of them a giant head?"

"YES! That was the chief ANTAGONIST, Malchizedek The Mad MAN-Monster..."

Olympia looked over at her partner. "How did you...?"

Otis pointed with his pencil at the enormous floating disembodied head hovering on the other side of the room. Dank, greasy hair covered one of its eyes; the other eye pulsed with an eerie, eldritch light. Its thick, blubbery lips twisted into a snarl as it seemed to take in the little room in which it found itself.

Professor Mossler saw the kids staring and looked to see what they were staring at. His jaw dropped at the sight of the monster. Then he smiled.

"Exemplary! Benji SAID he had a PROJECT he was working on for the CONVENTION but I..."

"DOLT!" The giant head shrieked with a voice like a metal plate clattering to the floor. An energy bolt shot from its good eye, vaporizing the card table and everything on it.

Professor Mossler emitted a high-pitched squeak.

"Wuh-wuh-well," he said, looking from Olympia to Otis and backing away. "I'm... I... I'm sure you two have the MATTER well in HAND..."

He fled, slamming and locking the door behind him.

#

TO BE CONTINUED...