Okay, right then, is thing on? Oh it is? Good, good...uh...hey! Hey there Fan-Fiction! It is a bending of my pride to admit this, but I had to take the first rendition of this story, under a different name at the time, down from the site. It just wasn't working out the way I wanted it to, and after some thought and insight from some other users on this site, I decided to rework it. Hopefully, this was the right decision and you'll enjoy the story (Improved! Reinvented! Rejuvinated! Revitalized! New car smell!) and will let me know how I'm doing.

I do not own any of the original characters, events, locations or anything else pertaining to the world of Fooly-Cooly/Furi-Kuri. Everything belongs to its respective owners. Any references to real events or real persons is pure coincidence. Get it? Got it? Sweet.
Okay, now that's out of the way… let's start the show.

. . .

"Good afternoon Mr. Nandaba." Commander Amaro said, barely audible over the deluge of rain. "I am Commander Amaro of the Interstellar Immigration Bureau. May I come in?"

"Of course, please come out of the weather." Kamon, a little grayer, and a little wiser, ushered Amaro inside the bakery. "And Mr. Nandaba's much too formal for me. Mon-Chan's just fine."

"Very well…Mon-Chan. Did you receive my message? I'm assuming yes, you don't seem surprised to see me." Amaro asked as he shook out his umbrella before closing it and stepping inside.

"I did get it, but after what happened four years ago…" Kamon smiled as he remembered the events that had become known as 'The Mabase Incident'. "Nothing really surprises me anymore. Tea? Something to eat? We have plenty of bread…"

"Thank you, but no thank you. I'm very short on time."

"Then by all means, tell me what brings you here?" Kamon asked as they sat down. "And don't hesitate to be blunt. I find being direct and up-front to be best."

"Since you insist, I'll get right to it." Amaro paused to gather his thoughts. "A few things. First, Medical Mechanica has increased their efforts to conquer planets across the galaxy. They're more belligerent than ever and negotiations between them and us, being the Galactic Government, the Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood and the Interstellar Immigration Bureau, have broken down. They just left us hanging at the table."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. Pardon my asking, but what does that have to do with me or my family?" Kamon asked, nervously stirring his tea.

"Is Naota home?"

"No, he's at school. Why?"

"I wouldn't want him hearing this." Amaro said, then clarified with: "Hearing this without proper context. Our intelligence leads us to believe that Medical Mechanica considers Naota a threat to them."

"Naota, a threat? How?"

"We're not entirely sure. It may have to do with the N.O. channel created in his head. M-M has yet to reveal exactly why, but they undoubtedly have taken a vested interest in him; and Earth again too."

"So what do you want from me then?" Kamon asked, his mug of tea forgotten. "You must want something, otherwise you could have just called; sent me a letter."

"We need you to relocate."

"Relocate? As in move?"

"Yes. And quickly. Mabase's a known target on M-M's list and they would know exactly where to find you if they wanted to." Amaro picked up the black attache case next to his chair and placed it on the table. "Oh, and I think this should go without saying…but we're not asking you to move."

"You're telling me, yes, I thought so. After all, not once did you say please." Kamon grinned, sticking to humor to cover his unease. It was the only way he really knew how.

"Just so we're on the same page." Amaro opened his case and handed Kamon a hefty envelope; sealed with a wax stamp. "This envelope contains all the instructions you'll need for the move. Contact information, plane tickets, even a job offer for you Mon-Chan."

"A job offer?" Kamon was puzzled as he turned the envelope over, feeling its weight. "But I didn't apply anywhere…"

"We sent them your resume. Congratulations Mr. Assistant Editor-in-Chief of the Nittany Post." Amaro snapped his case shut and stood to leave. "I'm sorry that everything is on such short notice. But Medical Mechanica isn't wasting their time, so we cannot afford to. If you don't have any questions…"

"Commander." Kamon had not opened the packet yet and placed it on the table. "May I at least ask one favor, an indulgence?"

"If it's reasonable, and even then, the answer still may be no."

"I would prefer it, if Naota didn't know the real reason we're moving. He had a lot happen and even though it's been four years, he hasn't been quite the same since. Especially with it being the tenth year since…since his mother…" Kamon's voice shuddered and he stared down into his tea. "It's just a hard time for all of us right now."

"You have my sympathies. As far as your request goes, that will not be a problem. They would prefer it that way, actually."

"They?"

"Overwatch, the group responsible for you. One of their directives is low-profile protective custody. They'll be able to better explain everything themselves than I can. Now, do you have any last questions? I'm afraid I really am out of time."

"Where will we be going?" Kamon held up the envelope. "I'm sure it's in here, but I'd like to know now."

"The United States, a small mining town in Pennsylvania. Very rural, very out of the way."

"That'll be nice, we'll be closer to Tasuku."

"He plays for the…Altoona Curve, doesn't he?"

"Yes, how did you…never mind."

"You'll be just a few hours north of him. Now, if that is all, I really must be going. Take care Mr. Nandaba, we'll be in touch." Commander Amaro showed himself out, umbrella first into the downpour. Kamon stood to watch him leave but as he looked out the bakery's front windows, the red-headed agent had already vanished into the grey.

"How do they do that?" Kamon wondered aloud. "Just…disappear. Hmmph. Spooks." He sighed and returned to the envelope. He slit it open and upended its contents onto the table. As he began sifting through the papers, a set of heavy footsteps made their way out of the laundry room. The scent of freshly cleaned and dried clothes followed them as they headed for the stairs.

"Oh TV-boy!" Kamon called and Canti's TV-screen face appeared in the doorway; a question mark displayed on it. "Don't bother putting those away. We have to start packing."

. . .

He had to hurry, he had to hide! With a legion of pursuers breathing down his neck, the I.I.B., the G.S.P.B., M-M and that Haruko Haruhara, Atomsk couldn't afford to be caught out in the open. Through his erratic flight path across the galaxy, Atomsk found himself over Earth again. It was a most curious little planet, with an even more curious group of inhabitants. Despite its relative isolation, it seemed to attract all manner of strange events and phenomena; Atomsk not included.

He flew low over the first land he spotted, skimming just above the trees. The ground rolled, swelled and fell away like an ocean on a windy day. Ahead, the summertime Friday night lights of a small town winked up at him; shining from their nestled corner in a narrow valley. He made a pass over the town, momentarily silhouetted by the setting sun. As he disappeared over the next ridge, he was spotted by a pair of observant eyes. The owner of those eyes spat out their plug of tobacco, pulled down their goggles and kicked their dirt bike to life. They eye's owner had a very important report to make.

At last, Atomsk found what he was looking for. The maw of an abandoned coal mine, indistinguishable from its neighbors, opened up on a hillside; obscured by mounds of raw coal, aggregate and fill dirt. Atomsk dove to mere feet, his whirlwind accidentally knocking over the sign at the mine's front gate. Once inside the mine, Atomsk settled in for a long rest. Even with his power, this latest flight had left him exhausted. He knew that his pursuers would never call off their search; especially if he were merely hiding in a hole. But it would be enough for now, enough for him to recover some strength and for them to scratch their heads in confusion.

'That would be a sight.' Atomsk chuckled to himself. 'Seeing the Galaxy's finest agents bewildered by a simple disappearing act. They're all such interesting creatures. Humans, Haruko's kind, even Medical Mechanica, in their own way.' He readjusted his posture, giving his ruby red feathers one last rustle before drifting off. 'Very interesting…very interesting creatures indeed…'

. . .

"So, are you sure that we're moving?" Naota asked, even as his father handed him a flattened stack of cardboard boxes. "Isn't this a little short notice? And just…why?"

"Why not?!" Kamon asked, leaping onto the dinner table. Somehow he had magically produced a set of buckskin pants and fringed coat to match and a coonskin cap was on his head, the tail draped on his shoulder. "For the excitement, and the adventurous spirit that filled those brave explorers that came before us! We're off to discover new and uncharted lands! We're answering the same call those noble pioneers heard centuries before us; to go, see, and conquer the world! What do you think of that eh?!"

"I think you've finally, truly and totally, lost it." Naota said and started for the stairs.

"Naota, wait a moment please." Kamon said and Naota stopped instantly. His father had brought out his rarely used serious tone. "I know that this is very short notice. But please, try to understand. Your Grandfather isn't getting any younger and wants to retire. I'm not cut out for running the bakery myself and I finally have a job offer in my field. Plus, we'll get to be closer to your brother; I know how much I miss him some days."

"I get all that, it's just really sudden and out of the blue is all." He said. "But hey, it is what it is. I guess I'll start packing now." He started up the stairs. "Besides, this town's gotten waaay too boring anyway, I need a change of pace."

"That's the spirit!" Kamon cheered as Naota dragged himself up the steps. He felt exhausted, Kamon seemed to draw his energy from all those around him to stay so upbeat.

'He's like an Energizer Bunny…' He thought as he shouldered his door open. 'Just keeps going, and going, and going, and damn my room is a mess.' He realized as he surveyed the controlled chaos scarcely contained within; reasonably typical for a sixteen year old. Clothes were piled on his bed, but they would be moved to his desk at night and back to his bed again in the morning; a vicious cycle. His desk was currently covered with papers, pens and notebooks from school and just behind a stack of textbooks was his most prized possession. Tucked away in the corner on its stand, was the midnight blue Rickenbacker 4001, left-handed model. It had been four years since Haruko had left it behind and during that time, Naota had gotten quite good at playing it. Visions of a lighted stage and a roaring crowd didn't occupy his thoughts though. It was just good to play and lose himself for a while in the music, forgetting everything, even Haruko. He had pined for a month or so in hoping and wishing she would come back. Even if he had to get run over with her Vespa again, he wouldn't have minded too much. The dreams he used to have about her had eventually subsided into the occasional annoyance before fading away completely; a welcome relief. As the months rolled by, he had come to accept that his memories and the bass were to be his only mementos of her. Although, a small voice in his head had started wondering how she would find him if she ever did come back; since he was moving and all.

"Still wonder what got Dad to decide that?" He asked as he started shoving clothes into a box. "Moving to America…such a random thing." Kamon had explained that his tabloid writings or as he called them, investigative journals, had been read by a traveling editor from America, Pennsylvania specifically, who offered a full-time, salaried position at the magazine and offered a very liberal artistic license. In all fairness, Naota had to agree it was a very good deal. He was slightly disappointed they would be living in the countryside instead of the city; a small backwater in the middle of nowhere, as far as he was concerned. It was smack in the center of the state, a town named Osceola Mills. Kamon would be commuting into State College during the week where the action was at and return home on the weekends. He said the 'rural living would be a means of enhancing his creative genius'…or something like that anyway.

"At least it'll be a change of scenery, so that'll be nice, I guess." He said as he folded the last flattened box into shape and added it to the stack of its fellows. Another glance around his room reinforced how much junk he had acquired and how long it was going to take to pack up. "Eh, I think that's enough for tonight. I'll get the rest in the morning." He slumped over to his bed, catching the light as he fell. With the house quiet, he found sleep easily. As he hovered just at the edge of consciousness, there was a noise, a heavy Bummmmmmmm… from the corner behind his desk.

'Wha? The bass?' His last groggy thought before fading out. 'No…couldn' have been…'

. . .

"Yes, yes…I understand. Very well, I'll let them know." The man hung up and sighed heavily, dreading the news he now had to deliver. "I hope they don't take it too hard, they've got enough to deal with already." He looked over at the black attache case on the passenger seat, packed with orders and the massive one on the backseat, packed with sorrows. "Well, let's just get this over with." He picked up the case and stepped out of his car to get the other one from the backseat, his shoes crunching on the gravel lot. In front of him was a weathered, corrugated metal sheathed, fabrication shop; its two forty foot tall bay doors open to reveal the showers of sparks and arc flashes inside.

"Carson! George Carson!" The agent yelled, trying to shout down a pneumatic wrench, sizzling welders and Ted Nugent blasting from a stereo as old as the shop itself. "Hello?!"

"Why're you yelling Griggs? I'm right here." A man stepped out of an office door on the shop's front, to Agent Griggs' right. "How the hell are yah, haven't seen you in around for…what, ten months?"

"Nine months, actually." Agent Griggs corrected and brought the massive case to his front. "And don't get used to me, I'm short on time."

"Everyone is these days." George said, twisting the bolt-like ring on his right middle finger. "Medical Mechanica's gone beserk, Atomsk's been sighted over my hometown, the Galaxy's going to Hell in a hand basket."

"Hence why I'm here." Agent Griggs looked around the shop and surrounding property. "Where…is Jeff?"

"Jeff? He's uh…" George leaned around one of the bay doors and looked inside the shop. "I think he's under the Bronco. Well, his Bronco as he says, provided he ever gets it running." George pointed to a dilapidated '78 Ford Bronco of several colors; the most predominant being rust. "Jeff! You in there?! You have a visitor!"

"What?" Jeff called back, a pair of boots under the Bronco moved.

"Jeff!"

"What?!"

"JEFF!"

"WHAT?!"

"NOW!"

"I heard you the first time!" A grease, oil and rust-chip covered Jeff rolled out on a creeper and walked over. "Just testin' your hearing old man. Mr. Griggs, a surprise and pleasure. It's been what, nine months? How's the promotion suiting you?"

"It's been, it's been fine. Just fine." Agent Griggs said, feeling a lump starting to rise in his throat. The Carson's friendliness was not making his job any easier. "There's ah, there's something I have to tell you, and I'm so sorry you have to hear it from me."

"What happened?" Jeff asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "C'mon Griggs, let's have it. Don't be a puss about it."

"You're father's dead Jeff, I'm so sorry." Agent Griggs blurted, expelling the breath he had been holding. There, the Band-Aid had been ripped off. It was over, for Agent Griggs at least.

"Oh." Jeff said, his face slackening to a blank stare. "W-what happened?" He asked in a small voice, taking off his hat and staining it black as he twisted it in his greasy hands.

"We're not sure. We know he was investigating Medical Mechanica activity and went into one of the areas under their direct control. His body hasn't been recovered."

"Then what's that?" Jeff nodded at the four-foot long case Agent Griggs had in his right hand.

"His effects." Agent Griggs turned to the hood of his car, laid the case on it and opened it up. "These we were able to recover. A Ruger GP100…" Agent Griggs pointed to the stainless steel revolver, black streaks of powder residue from dozens of fired rounds dirtying its muzzle, frame and cylinder. "A nineteen fifty-six Gibson Les Paul…Sssstandard I think…" An electric guitar with a scratched and scarred body that had originally been black as night but now covered in deep gouges, a cracked Bigsby tailpiece and a whammy bar hanging by a mere happy thought. "And…one carabiner." A four-inch long, locking gate carabiner made of a dense, heavy metal.

"This's it huh?" Jeff asked, merely staring at the items and seemed reluctant to pick any of them up. "So…now what? What's in that?"

"Well…" Agent Griggs said slowly, trying to gauge Jeff's reaction. He seemed to be taking the news well, considering it was his own father that had been killed. "There's an assignment for this station; a protective custody case. This has all the details." He opened the case and handed George a packet of orders. "It's a family relocating from Japan, the son has an N.O. channel that's off the charts and we think M-M is taking an interest in him."

"N.O. channel huh?" George said, opening the orders. "I've never really understood N.O. It may as well be black magic to me. But if M-M wants him, then we'll do our best to make M-M's life difficult."

"Glad to hear it. Now one last thing. Jeff?"

"Mmm?" Jeff's face had paled as he looked at the case's contents, his jaw locked solid and his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"Since your father has passed, you are to be promoted in his stead; and this assignment is to be your first." Agent Griggs informed him and picked up the carabiner. "I'm sorry it had to happen like this, but we're already desperate for manpower. The I.I.B.'s lost twenty just this month, the G.S.P.B. fifteen officers, an Overwatch station on another planet was completely wiped out last week. If things keep going as they are, it looks like war is inevitable."

"That it does." Jeff took the carabiner and clipped it onto the belt loop over his left hip. "So…so now…" He started but had to stop and take a deep breath to steady himself. "So now what does that make me?"

"A full Overwatch Agent, with all the authority, powers and, responsibilities, that come with it. Congratulations." Agent Griggs put out his hand and Jeff shook it quickly, his own hand was starting to shake. "Again, I'm sorry about your father. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah. Fine, I'll be…just fine. Thank you." Jeff said curtly. "If that'll be all, I think, I'm going to clock out early today."

"That'd be okay Jeff." George allowed. "Take your time, just be back before dark." Jeff merely grunted in response, walking across the shop's dirt lot to a house's carport and a waiting orange and black dirt bike. He started up and roared away, throwing a small mountain of dirt behind him in his wake, the scream of the bike's engine rapidly fading away.

"Did I miss something?" Agent Griggs asked, trying to spot Jeff but he was already out of sight. "He didn't seem all that shaken up by the news about his father."

"Jeff and his Dad never got along." George explained and started reading the orders. "Mostly because they're so alike, and different at the same time. They hadn't seen each other for about a year now."

"I didn't realize it was that bad between them. What about his mother?" Agent Griggs inquired and George just shook his head.

"Don't start down that road, leads nowhere good."

"Sorry I asked."

"You couldn't have known, we don't exactly go around telling everyone our personal problems. Anyway…" George sighed, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Ahem-hem-hem. Anyway, I've heard of this Mabase Incident through the grapevine…but this's something else. The kid, Naota, was twelve at the time?"

"He's sixteen now, same's Jeff."

"That'd be nice, hopefully the two will get along." George said as he flipped pages. "The rest here seems fairly self-explanatory. I'm sure Jeff'll be able to handle this, once he calms down of course. If he gets into any trouble, Tommy or I'll step in."

"That's the first positive thing I've heard all day." Agent Griggs checked his watch, he had overstayed and was late. "Alright, I'm outta here George; D.C.'s calling. Take care, good luck and remember: keep this quiet and low-profile!"

"No promises; but we'll do our very best." George assured and Agent Griggs started his car.

"In today's reality, that's all anyone can do!" He said in parting and he too left the shop's lot. George watched Agent Griggs go, then clapped his hand to his head in revelation.

"Wait…since Jeff's Dad is gone, that makes ME the Station Chief! How did Griggs…" He was interrupted by his cell phone's chime. A text from Agent Griggs read:

-4Got 2 mention. U R station chief now. GL.

"Oh, that's just great. And here I was, ready to retire to Florida. So much for Miami Vice…" He sighed as the heavy weight of his brother's passing settled on his chest. "Bad timing as always little bro..." As George processed his own promotion, Jeff came back an hour later and skidded to a stop just shy of the shop's office door. "You okay Rig…Jeff?"

"Okay as I can be." Jeff said, the edges of his eyes rimmed red. "Best thing for me's to keep busy; lemme look at the orders." George handed them over and Jeff leaned against the shop's wall to read. "So it's the dude from The Mabase Incident? Naota…Nandaba. Pretty unassuming looking guy." Jeff held up the most recent school photo day picture paper-clipped to the file.

"It's always the most normal ones you want to watch out for." George cautioned. "Because if they go weird, you never know what you'll get."

"Ain't that the truth?" Jeff agreed and flipped another page. "They'll be here in three days?!"

"Short notice, always is."

"Story of our lives." Jeff said, then looked up from the orders at George. "I'm really in charge of this?"

"Your first assignment came under one of the worst possible ways, but yes. It's all yours." Jeff shook his head in disbelief, asking if command was really that desperate. George said he had no answer, but asked what Jeff's first move was, now that he was officially an Overwatch Agent.

"Well…sittin' here, wringing my hands isn't very productive." Jeff stood, folded the orders and replaced them into their envelope. "Call the guys in the shop to a meeting then, I'll put these in my room and get ahold of Tommy. We have some serious scrambling to do."

. . .

"First we go up a mountain…" Naota noted as their U-Haul crested another ridge. "Then we go down the mountain…and right back up another one!" He felt like he was on a sailboat, bobbing bow-into the ocean's oncoming waves. "Isn't there any flat parts to this state?" He looked over at Canti in the middle seat. The robot, pulled from the wreckage of the Medical Mechanica plant's terminal core after Haruko had left, simply shrugged.

"It certainly does have a rolling feel, a plunging and rising feel to it." Kamon agreed from the driver's seat, gazing excitedly around while Naota stared out the window, looking but not seeing. Shigekuni had gone ahead with most of their possessions the day before and Natoa, Kamon and Canti had picked up the rest when they arrived at the airport. It wasn't how Naota envisioned arriving in America, loading up a U-Haul. "That is to be expected though, we are in the Alleghenies."

"Al-ah-ghen-ies?" Naota fumbled over the word.

"It's an offshoot of the Appalachian Mountains. We're going to be real hill-folk Nao!" The coonskin cap re-materialized again out of the ether. "We'll have to brush up on our moon-shining, maybe get us an old car to race on the dirt tracks!" Kamon chuckled at his own humor while Naota rolled his eyes and went back to staring out the window.

As he did, the landscape struck him as mesmerizing. It really was a mountainous state, Pennsylvania; it looked like the Earth here was a rumpled blanket. The highway followed the topography, curving with each bend in the mountains, diving into valleys and soaring again to notches chiseled and blasted through ridge lines. In the sheer rock walls the holes drilled for dynamite charges were still visible in spots, half of the shafts remained with one every foot for miles. From his view atop one of the higher crests, Naota could see what appeared to be an endless forest. A deep, dark green quilt had been draped across the land, smoothing out some of the sharper edges. Having lived in the industrial concrete and asphalt of Mabase all of his sixteen years, Naota felt like he had been taken back in time. It was a place lost to the ages, full of old legends and mysterious things that defied logical explanation. As he surveyed his new home state, Naota felt, for the first time in years, a prickle of excitement crawling up his spine; leaving the hairs on the nape of his neck standing on edge. Perhaps there was more to this land than just hills and trees?

. . .

"I was wondering when you three were going to get here!" Shigekuni grumped from the front porch. "You called four hours ago to say it'd be three hours."

"Sorry gramps." Naota apologized as he hopped out of the U-Haul. "Dad decided it wouldn't be very adventurous to bring a map." He explained as Kamon sheepishly waved it off. It was late in the afternoon and Naota had fallen asleep for the last hour of the ride, so now was his first look at his new home. The house itself was brick and on the right side, single story. The left was two storied and below it was a garage dug into the hillside. Most of the neighbors were smaller houses as well, each had wide yards shaded by ancient trees so massive he could never get his arms around them. The main road was paved, but the little cluster of houses in front of his and to their left and right, all had gravel for their side road and driveways. And of course, like everywhere thus far, there was a slope to their lawn, this one down and to the north.

Naota grabbed the first of many boxes and followed Canti inside to take a look around. It had a feel to it, an old feel. The walls were paneled with a wooden veneer in a deep brown and the carpet was a lighter shade of the same brown. He looked out the back window through the kitchen into the backyard and saw the hill the house was built into, continued to sharply rise at least another fifty feet. Naota wandered around the house while Canti unloaded, it was barren at best. It was devoid of furnishings, their living room filled only by a TV on a two by six and cinder block bench, a cable spool coffee table and three folding lawn chairs for seating.

"Dad, Gramps…Canti?" Naota stepped back outside and found the trio had become a quartet. "Hi, who are you?"

"Naota, this's the man we're renting our house from." Kamon explained. "His name is George Carson." George was a man of medium height and about sixty years; dressed in brown boots, grease spattered jeans and an equally dirty neon green t-shirt. He had a small belly threatening to encroach over his belt, rosy cheeks that flanked a smile of grinning, seemingly unnaturally white teeth. A curl of equally white hair was scarcely contained by a green baseball cap, the letters on it obscured from wear.

"So you're Naota?!" George put out a hand with massive knuckles and a bolt-like ring on his middle finger that conspired to crush Naota's fingers. "Glad to finally meet you in the flesh. Your Grandpa and I've been swappin' I-don't-cares; quite the storyteller when you get him wound up. He tells me there's some history behind this robot here; says you've had some adventures of your own already. Something about aliens and an evil corporation?" George was very pleasant and easy-going, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. It was the little sheen in his eyes that puzzled Naota; it made George look like he knew some grand secret.

"Uh, yeah…I guess. He's just being dramatic." Naota didn't know quite how to react to such open friendliness.

"Eh, whatever you say. I think you'll get along better with Rig, he's more your age. Better than hangin' around with us old duffers, right Kamon?" George addressed Kamon, the two laughed and Naota groaned. George seemed to be just as immature as his Dad. "Oh, here's Tommy." A battered, beaten and mostly black where is wasn't coated with mud and dirt, Chevy S-10 came hurtling over the hill from the south. It approached at top speed before screeching to a stop inches from the group in a cloud of dust and pebbles, loud rock music blasting from inside.

"Hey, hey George! When's Rig gettin' back? King Coal's asked for him." Tommy looked like George but thirty years younger and thirty pounds lighter. He was similarly clothed but somehow even dirtier. His hair even stuck out in the same way from his own green hat but it was a dirty blonde instead of white. His grin was even wilder, accented by a heavy five o'clock shadow, a narrower face with a sharp jawline and the same secretive gleam in his eyes; shining from over his sunglasses.

"Not sure, he should have been back by now. You know how he likes to roam around."

"Figured as much. Oh hey, sorry for ignoring you bud, name's Tommy. You're…don't tell me…" Tommy put out a hand that looked more like a bear paw, and further mangled Naota's already sore fingers. "Naota, right?"

"Yes, that's right. How did you…?"

"Heard it through the grapevine." Tommy let him have what was left of his hand back and pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. "Your Grandpa's really talked you a good game to quite a few people already." He plucked a pop bottle from his console, partially filled with a murky brown fluid, and spat some more of the same fluid into the bottle before replacing it. "If I were you, I'd invest in a new front door; otherwise all the single girls 'round here'll break it down when they find out you've arrived."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks for the advice."

"No problem. See yah 'round Naota." Tommy gave a short, two-fingered salute, put his truck in gear and roared away down the hill; gone as quickly as he had arrived.

"Well you've met Tommy, my youngest." George said. "Suzy's in dentist school and Little Georgie's deployed in Afghanistan. Tom's like me in that we Carson's only have two speeds: dead stop and pedal to the floor."

"It must be nice to agree on something. Naota and I aren't the least alike." Kamon sighed. "He's always such a down-to-Earth and serious boy."

"Hey…right here!" Naota couldn't believe Kamon could speak so freely about him in front of a relative stranger.

"Down to Earth and serious at sixteen?" George looked, for some reason he couldn't fathom, amused. "Well, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Someone has to keep the rest of us grounded in reality, right?"

"Exactly!" Naota agreed. Then the phone on George's belt pinged.

"Excuse me, I gotta bounce, duty calls. I'm just down the hill if you need anything, don't be a stranger!" George pointed a little way down the slope at another house built into the hill; a single story above ground clad in heavy shingle siding. The back porch was also the awning for the basement's door and patio, where a grill, something under a blue tarp and a worn-out easy chair were just outside the basement door. "Oh, two last things. Naota first. I'm always hiring, come down for an interview if you want. Second, for all of you, welcome to the great state of Pennsylvania; it's a pleasure to have you here." George then took his leave, talking excitedly to someone on his phone.

"So he's our landlord?" Naota asked, the hope he had moved to a normal part of the world starting to ebb away.

"Yes he is. Mr. Carson runs quite a few operations through his business. Cranes, excavation, trucking, welding…sounds like it would make for an interesting summer job huh?" Kamon suggested in a not-so subtle hint.

"Finnnneee…I'll go see him tomorrow." Naota huffed, annoyed his Dad was already nagging him about a summer job; it was only June.

"Very good, glad to hear it." Kamon headed back to the U-Haul with Gramps and Canti in tow. "Hey, how about you take your bike and go find us some dinner in town, scout the place out? I know you fell asleep and missed it during the drive; good chance to look around." Delighted at the chance to get out of lifting boxes and with a helping of his own curiosity, Naota pulled his bike from the truck. He began pedaling north, trying to get out of earshot before Kamon had the chance to change his mind.

. . .

'Man, Pennsylvania really is all hills…' Naota panted as he sped down another hill, to gain speed for the next one; passing Christoff Mitchell Petroleum and its massive tanks of propane on his right, and Dunlap's Used Cars on his left. He was on the edge of the road's pavement, trees on either side whipping by in a greenish-brown blur. 'But it sure is pretty so far…' He admitted as he passed the sign for the town of Philipsburg and its borough of Chester Hill.

He entered Chester Hill first. It greeted him with a Comet supermarket and grocery, then several custom machine shops; many with construction vehicles out front that towered above the buildings. Legions of small houses crowded up to the sidewalk, occasionally giving way to industrial lots, a softball field on the left and an aggregate company across the street with piles of rock right against the road. A few more rows of houses passed by, then an oil and natural gas drilling parts supplier named Scomi; headquartered in an old car dealership. In the former sales lot, a massive flat-bed truck with a built-in crane behind the cab, was loading a stack of heavy duty scaffolding onto a waiting tractor trailer. Next to Scomi was a squat brick building with a glowing neon sign that read: Hi-Way Pizza. The restaurant's line stretched out the door. He decided to try for somewhere with less of a wait and continued through Chester Hill towards Philipsburg. He came to an iron plate bridge and a set of railroad tracks on the opposite side. As he crossed, there arose from under the bridge a sour and bad-egg smell. He stopped to peer over the edge and saw a fifty foot wide, knee-deep river that was rusty red from top to bottom.

"Smells like…sulfur." He said after a few whiffs and started pedaling again. "And I thought Mabase was dirty. Chester Hill and Philipsburg's river is orange!" He made his way up another hill and turned left at the intersection, now in Philipsburg. To his left was a majestic, cathedral like church built of tan colored stones three feet across. Now he was on what seemed the main thoroughfare, thrumming with people and lined with cars parked bumper to bumper. As he slowly wound his way through town, he took in the new surroundings and found it not what he expected.

While most of Mabase had been relatively new, built mostly in the '70's, Philipsburg was very old. Most of the buildings and businesses in them were brick or stone, barely any of them over three stories tall. Some of the more ornate buildings had carved facades above their doors or designs chiseled on the corners. The most decorated was the movie theater, the Rowland, with its cornerstone marked with 1917. Houses were small too, something Naota had thought would be the opposite. They were all older too, porches made up their fronts with very small yards, wrought iron fences; all of them were clustered tightly together and were built almost right against the road. Philipsburg seemed a town that was sitting peacefully on a front porch, letting the world pass by. So far, it was proving to be a quiet, small town and that reminded Naota a little too much of Mabase.

'This place's probably just as boring too.' Running out of sidewalk, he pulled over and started walking; the bike's gears ticking as he went. 'There doesn't seem to be anything to do around here, at least not yet anyway. Just a lot of old buildings, woods and trucks. So. Many. Trucks.' He complained as another dump truck lumbered by, weighed down with its payload of coal; the tenth such truck he'd seen in an hour. 'I'll bet nothing ever happens here, that's why it looks so old. I'm sure Haruko's…now why are you thinking about her?' He shoved the pink-haired patrol officer from his mind and tried to focus on finding somewhere to eat. Then, he heard a motorcycle engine.

. . .

I was late, oh sweet Christ I was late. So, soooooo late. I was supposed to meet the Nandaba's when they got to their house, introduce myself, invite Naota down to G&R...George was going to be all kinds of pissed! They were even an hour late, giving me a grace period and I missed that too! Tuesdays man, can never get it together on a Tuesday. To make up for lost time, I decided to hop off the railroad tracks and test my luck in Philipsburg's rush hour traffic. Hopefully I wouldn't run anyone over. That would be an absolute nightmare, on top of everything else.

. . .

The motorcycle was off to his right, somewhere behind the row of stores. The rider was quite adept at changing gears and keeping up their speed in tight city traffic; he could hear the bursts of the throttle echoing across town. The engine wasn't like the smooth purr of Haruko's Vespa, it was violently louder and rougher with long, throaty growls when the rider was hard on the gas. For reason he could never explain, he felt his pace quicken and was overcome with an urge to catch a glimpse of the machine making such a racket. His best guess was that it would appear in the second alley ahead. As he passed in front of the first one, he realized he had grossly miscalculated. The engine's roar filled his ears, terror flooded his heart and lead pooled into his legs. For the second time in his life, Naota was struck dumb in the face of an oncoming motorcycle. The last things he remembered were: a flash of orange, the feeling of a large, knobby tire striking him square in the face, and himself thinking "Oh fuck me…not this again!"

. . .

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead…" I repeated the mantra, hoping that if I said it enough, it would become reality. I shouldn't have taken that ramp so fast, but once airborne, it's really hard to take a jump back; especially when you have already landed on someone. I rolled him over and saw his eyes were open. They spun around like wheels in a slot machine and read "Cashed. Out." when they stopped spinning. "C'mon, wake up…" I leaned over with my ear next to his mouth for Look, Listen and Feel and then…

"Uuuhhhhgggg…" At last! It's alive!

"Oh you're alive. Oh thank God. Oh thank God, Allah, Buddha, Shiva and the Flyin' Spaghetti Monster. Are you okay?"

"Owwwww…ow, ow, ow!" He winced as he did a function check on his face's muscles and rubbed the bright red tire track that ran from his chin to forehead. "What happened…and who are you?"

"What happened is a damn miracle, and I'm Jeff Carson." I introduced myself and offered to help him up. "And if you're not too mad about me running you over, friends call me Rig."

. . .

"So you're Jeff." Naota's brain was still firing on all cylinders despite the latest impact to its housing. He had hesitated to accept Jeff's hand, the scenario was all too familiar. But since Jeff wasn't trying to flip him upside down and shake him for all he was worth, nor did Jeff have a guitar slung across his back. So Naota accepted his help to get on his feet. "George mentioned you when I met him at my house."

"Ahhh…so you've met my Uncle George huh?" Jeff smiled knowingly. "Your name's…Naota, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"I have ways of knowing lots of things." Jeff said and the same secretive glint shone in his eyes, just like George and Tommy; it must have been a Carson family trait. He wasn't too sure what to make of that look in their eyes, but Jeff seemed friendly enough like the rest of his family. His face was leaner though, longer than it was wide, sporting his own attempt at a five o'clock shadow and the same curl of hair; except his was deep, dark brown. He stood a little taller than Naota, at around five-ten and a lean, wiry build. On his feet were multi-buckled black boots that looked like they were shod in steel, then jeans, a thick leather belt to hold them up, a dark hunter green mechanic's shirt and even the same hat as Tommy and George. This one was less worn and Naota could read it: G&R Fabrication and Cranes: Osceola Mills P.A. "I know most anything and everything going on in Clearfield and Centre counties. The perks of working for your Uncle." He smiled while wiping the dust from a pair of goggles with a red kerchief, one that he had originally been wearing across his face. The goggles were just the tip of the dirty iceberg, he was covered head to toe in the fine grey-ish brown dust. Jeff noticed Naota observing him and flashed his smile a little wider, then marred it by spitting out some murky brown fluid; the same Tommy had spat into his pop bottle. So…maybe Jeff wasn't the most sophisticated person, but he was alright, so far.

"Anything and everything huh?" Naota had done some quick thinking and decided it might be nice to have Jeff around. That is, if he really knew where all the action was at, and wasn't just trying to impress him. "You'll have to put your money where your mouth is someday. In the meantime, is that a Yamaha YZ-450?"

"Oh, the Ought-Too?" Jeff looked down at the dirt bike he was leaning on. "You've an eye for motorbikes."

"Thanks, I've been meaning to get one of my own for a while, a motorcycle." He remembered how lots of people in school, back in Mabase, had mopeds or scooters, and little gangs of them were a routine sight; zipping around town. "But what's Ought-Too?"

"That's my number, see?" Jeff pointed at the black and white placard hanging off the bike's tail end. "Zero, or 'Ought' and two. That way, if someone asks if it'll go fast, I can say 'well it Ought-Too!' Get it?"

"Heh, I get it. Clever, very clever." He agreed and Jeff stepped aside so Naota could get a better look at the bike and its orange and black paint. "I like the color scheme, lot cooler than Yamaha's usual blue and white. How fast have you gone on it?"

"'Pends on the terrain. Dirt slows you up some, but I've hit eighty going down the asphalt."

"Dude! You're nuts to do eighty on a dirt bike!"

"Tell me about it, almost got the Speed Wobbles last time."

"Those are the absolute worst! This guy, back in Japan, was trying to break one of his personal speed records. He started out at the top of the tallest hill in town and just, took off."

"Oh no…" Jeff sighed and looked sideways at him. "How bad was it?"

"Hospital bad. He broke his arm in two spots, got road rash real bad on his left side. He just completely lost control halfway down. It started as a little wiggle, then a wobble he over-corrected on and it got away from there."

"And he did this on pavement in the middle of town?" Jeff looked amazed someone would even consider the stunt. "You always want grass somewhere to try and land on, in case you have to bail."

"Yeah, he didn't plan that one too far ahead. Went more with his gut than his head. Speaking of which…" Naota interrupted himself with his stomach's growling. "Where's a good place around here to get takeout?"

"I know just the place! Here, hook up." Jeff reached into a small toolbox, one of several on the Ought-Too that looked like after-market add-ons, and extracted a steel cable with a hook on each end. "It's the least I can do, since I used your head as a landing pad…you're sure, that you're sure, that you're okay?"

"Yes, really. I'm sure, I'm sure." He said as he secured his end of the cable to his bike. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

"Now that is a story I'd love to hear." Jeff said as he straddled his dirt bike, pulled his goggles down over his eyes and his kerchief back over his nose, hiding his face. "But first and foremost! It's Hi-Way time!"

. . .

Hi-Way Pizza seemed to be THE place to be, now that Naota had actually gotten inside. It was a little less packed than when he had first passed it, but customers still were fighting to get through the door. Inside he saw all the ovens, prep areas and kitchen were right behind the counter and in full view of everyone so they could watch their pie go from dough to box. A large, grey-haired woman with pince-nez glasses was running the counter and would yell orders into the kitchen. She used a bellowing voice that filled the building and physically shook Naota as they waited in line.

"Jerry! Four pepperonis!" She shouted over her shoulder. "And Rig Carson's here!"

"W'all alrighty Sara, one thing at a time, one thing at a time!" Jerry towered nearly to the ceiling, his apron cradling a Pillsbury belly and his mustache and hair were powdered white with flour. "So Rig! How's she goin'?!" He boomed in a voice equally as loud as Sara's. "Your Uncle called, looking for you. Said you need to learn to answer your own phone."

"Yeah…I was, ah, I was busy." Jeff said, playing with the toothpick dispenser next to the register. "But to answer your question, I'm as alright as alright can be."

"Glad to hear it. Oh, and there was one more thing. Mr. King Coal himself's asked for you to come down. He dropped by for lunch and said his sign got all smashed up this weekend and wants you to come take a look."

"Well King's is on the way home…" As Jeff and Jerry talked, Naota notice two metal loop-type brackets were built into Jeff's unusually thick belt; one on each of his hips. On the left bracket dangled a heavy metal carabiner, four inches long with a screw locking gate. An interesting thing to have, but Naota decided he would ask about it later.

"And who's your new friend?" Jerry now peered at Naota over his half-moon glasses. "Haven't seen you in here before."

"Naota Nandaba. I just moved here from Japan." He introduced himself and Jerry nodded approvingly.

"So you're the one whose family bought George's old house? Your old man's…Kamon, right?"

"Yes…how did you…?" He asked for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and started to wonder if everyone in the county knew him already.

"Your Grandad's been up here already, asking around about baseball leagues. I put him in touch with our Sunday afternoon league; he said to tell you you're already signed up."

'Thanks Gramps, thanks for asking me first.' He thought to himself. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"My pleasure, enjoy your pizza!" Jerry waved them out and Naota took the scalding hot boxes from Jeff so he could drive. Once he was settled on his bike, Jeff started up and resumed towing him homeward.

It turned out that King Coal was on the way after all, and much closer than he'd thought too. The entrance was only half a mile north and across the street from his house. Jeff towed him through the gate, past the stacked remains of a sign built from old railroad ties. They coasted to a stop in front of the main office, a building slowly turning black from airborne coal dust. A man caked in the dust from head to toe walked out, the only clean parts of him were the whites of his eyes, a row of gleaming teeth; his boots, pants, jacket, shirt, skin, hard-hat and even hair, was covered.

"Hey Rig! Wondered when you was comin' over!" The man called, waving his clipboard. "What kept you?"

"Good evening Mr. King. Just this 'n' that, made a new friend and had to stop for pizza." Jeff nodded back at Naota, balancing pizza boxes on his handlebars.

"I'm glad to hear that. How you been? George told me about the bad news…you holdin' up alright?" Mr. King asked.

"Fine, I'm just fine." Jeff answered tersely and planted his boots firmly on either side of his bike. "Jerry said you were asking for me?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Mr. King said in a softer tone after Jeff's sharp answer. Naota had only known Jeff for around an hour, but he could already tell that something was bothering him. But that moment wasn't a good one to ask about it. "Ever since my sign got knocked down, I've been getting all kinds of weird instrument readings, equipment's been going all wonky at times; things just ain't right."

"Hummm…now tha's real interesting…" Jeff put down his kickstand and got off his bike, boots crunching as he slowly surveyed the mine. "Have you been hitting a lot of shale lately Mr. King?"

"Well, there's a funny thing about that…" As Jeff and Mr. King talked, Naota heard an uncomfortably familiar sound, a small metallic jingle. Clink. He dismissed it until he heard it again, then once more. Clink-Click! Now that he knew he wasn't imagining things, he looked around for the sounds source. Ting! Click-Clack! Cling! The noises were coming from in front of him, and as he heard another Clink! He would have sworn that the carabiner on Jeff's belt had moved. As if Jeff knew he was being watched, he unclipped the carabiner from his belt and jammed it deep into his front pocket.

"Hey Mr. King, y'all blasting today?" Rig asked.

"Now that you mention it…" Mr. King looked down at his watch, brushing some crumbs of coal from its face. "Three…two…one." BAHHH-WHHHOOOMMMM! A blast of sound erupted from over the next hill, shuddering the ground under Naota's feet and rattling the office's windows. "Right on schedule."

"Huh. How's that for timing?" Rig remarked and swung himself back onto his bike. "Tell you what Mr. King, there's something going on here…I'm not quite sure what though. I'll pop in tomorrow morning 'round seven and take a better look; it's dinner time right now you see."

"Yes it is, good night and see you tomorrow." Mr. King returned to his office and Jeff towed Naota right up to his driveway. He took his two boxes of pizza and turned his dirt bike around to leave.

"Alrighty Naota, I'm heading home. Uh, like I said, real sorry about running you over. Tell you what, if George hasn't already offered, why don't you come down to the shop tomorrow morning, say 'bout nine?"

"Are you offering me a job too?" Naota asked, trying to decide if Jeff had the authority in his uncle's company to actually do that.

"We'll see how you do in your interview…" Jeff started up his Ought-Too. "But yeah! We'll find you something to do, I'm sure of it. So…see you then?"

"Yeah, I'll come on down. See you tomorrow Rig!" Naota said and Rig roared on down the hill to George's house, his pizza boxes balanced on his head. Naota went inside his own home and shared with everyone the best pizza he'd ever had.

. . .

"Jeff, is your watch broken?" George asked me as we worked our way through our pizza. "You were supposed to be here when the Nandaba's arrived."

"No, watch works just fine." I said between bites. "I was inevitably detained."

"Detained doing what? You weren't stopped by the cops were you?"

"No, and it was nothing of consequence." I said, staring at my plate as I chewed.

"Nothing of consequence? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he doesn't wanna talk about it, George." Tommy broke in as he slapped his first two slices together to make a pizza sandwich. "So get off his back."

"What? What'd I do?" George turned on Tommy now. "I just asked a question, and a simple one too."

"And he answered it." Tommy took a bite. "S'oh leaf 'im ah-lone."

"I'm just concerned about you Jeff." George was back to me. "You've been given this assignment, not under the best circumstances of course, but you don't seem to be taking it seriously."

"George, are you deaf?" Tommy started again. "I said leave him alone."

"Really? You're going to use that tone with me Thomas?" George snapped as he turned in his chair back to Tommy.

"Really? You're going to use that full-name trick? That was real cute when I was twelve…"

"Will you two fuckin' quit it?!" I snarled and both stopped growling at each other to look at me. "George. If I say I'm fine, it's not a coded message. It means I'm fine. Tommy. I can deal with it, don't have an ulcer. And both of you, I know you would if you could, but you don't need to fight all my battles for me."

"Alright, goddamn man…" Tommy went back to his pizza, but smiled as he did; he wasn't mad at me or George. "Grumpy…" The table then went quiet for a good five minutes.

"So did you at least meet up with the Nandaba's?" George asked slowly, testing the ice.

"Yes, actually. I ran over Naota." I said, helping myself to another slice. George dropped his own slice and Tommy choked on his water.

"What did you do?" George asked like he was afraid of the answer.

"I ran over Naota. Don't worry, he's fine."

"You ran him over?! With your dirt bike?!"

"No, with the friggin' Batmobile." I said and Tommy nearly squirted water out of his nose as he started laughing. "Yes, with the Ought-Too. I told you though, he's fine and not even mad at me. I got him set up with an interview at the shop tomorrow at nine, so we're square." That'll show George. I peeked at him out of my peripheral and saw he looked completely dumbfounded. Tommy was beside himself with his hands over his face to try and stop his laughter.

"Oh my God…you ran him over…" Tommy sighed and took a deep breath as his giggles finally subsided. "Of all the ways to start your first assignment…"

"Well. Just, well then." George harrumphed as Tommy chuckled and I merely sat. "Guess everything's working out then, isn't it?"

"By the seat of my pants, but yes." I held up my fingers to tick off my order's main bullet points. "Convince Nandaba's to move, handled expertly by our friends in the I.I.B., check. Give Kamon a job where he will be commuting and thus, a moving target difficult to track? Check. Bring Naota on board at G&R so I can train him to take care of himself if we can't be there, and so all of us can keep a better eye on him? Allllllmost check."

"Find out if Atomsk really is hiding here, prevent any Medical Mechanica invasions…" Tommy listed off two of our other goals. "Find Rig a girlfriend…oh wait…"

"Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha-ha…ahhhhh…shaddap." Thanks a lot Tom, real morale boost there.

"Love you too Rig, love you too." Tommy smiled and opened the box for another slice.

"You know I only hassle you because I'm worried, right?" George asked. "I'm not the best, ask Tom, but I'm doing my best."

"Yeah, I know, I know. Sorry for being an ass." I apologized and then remembered something else important I was supposed to do. "Hey, what time is it?" George looked at the microwave's clock and declared it to be nine twenty-eight.

"About that time." He remarked while Tommy stood up and headed for the back porch. "Tommy'll call them in and you can head downstairs; the reception's best down there for some odd reason."

"Alright, wanna sit in?" I started for the basement stairs where my section of the house was.

"Oh, that's okay." George chuckled as Tommy opened the back porch door and gave a piercing, eardrum rupturing whistle. "I've given more than my share of reports and they've started blending together. You'll be fine."

"Just thought I'd offer." I stepped out of the way of four dogs as they tumbled into the house, through the hall and down the stairs. "Whoooo…okay. Let's get this over with."

. . .

After dinner and as he got ready for bed, Naota reflected on his day. With the exception of his face nearly being turned into hamburger, it had gone much better than expected. He had already made a friend who seemed to be a cool guy, was able to see some of his new home range, and of course, Hi-Way Pizza. But something was eating at him: those metallic jingles at King Coal. They felt intimately familiar, he couldn't remember exactly why, but he stubbornly knew he had heard them before. The jingles may have been caused by the vibrations from the mine's blasting; he'd certainly heard the detonations. But then why hadn't he felt anything when the jingles happened? Shouldn't he have felt the tremors then, not after? Maybe the initial tremors were too small, or he wasn't finely tuned enough, to pick them up. Thinking about it proved too tiring and he instead focused on what he was going to say at his interview the next day. It was going to be, he hoped, a big day and possibly his first day working for G&R Fabrication and Cranes. So excited he was, Naota didn't even notice the soft Buummmm…Bonnnnggg… from the Rickenbacker in the corner; and for the first time in months, he slept soundly the whole night through.

. . .

"Yes, I'm positive; it's Atomsk all right." I said then paused to have a spit. Can't talk with a mouth full of tobacco juice. "Granted, the signal wasn't the strongest I've gotten, the geology could be messin' with the reception. It's been known to happen." The Dogs yipped and whuffed in agreement, but added a little on the end. "Hey, I'm sure I'm sure! It was the size of a battleship and red as the sun. Unless Nick Fury and his flying aircraft carrier did a low pass over Philipsburg and Osceola Mills, there's not much else it could have been."

"Wooofff!"

"Exactly my point!" At least one of them agreed with me. Another pause for another spit. "So everything else is going well. The father, son and robot arrived today, be sure to thank the I.I.B. on my behalf for arranging their move. I'm working on recruiting Naota, he'll be down tomorrow for an interview."

"Brrruffff! Bark!" The four barked and thumped their tails on the floor. Happy Dogs; that means a happy me. "Rrrrrufff!" One added, pawing at the air.

"Oh, you are? I think we have a handle on things. George is working on building a locally based response force, Tommy has been expanding our network south; all the way to Lancaster…"

"Brrraarkk!" They cut me off.

"Okay, okay! Take it easy!" There's just no arguing with higher ups. Middle-management types, what're you gonna do, amiright? "If you feel that way's the best way, then send 'em over." I said, then added under my breath: "Goofy eyebrows and all…"

"Grrrrr…"

"Huh? Oh, nothing." Darn Dogs and their good hearing. "Oh, what've you heard about You-know-Who?"
"Rrrooo…" They whined and put a paw over their noses.

"We lost track of her? Well, that's not surprising. The Universe is a big place, and she's supposed to be as slippery as a snake-oil salesman. Let me know if you learn anything new; she might just show up here you know."

"Woof! Woof!"

"Couldn't agree more."

"Ruuufff?!" Now that one caught me off guard.

"What? I'm, fine…why?"

"RRRRuffff."

"I'm managing. I mean, we were never really on what I'd call the best of terms; I hadn't seen him for at least a year. So it still feels like normal-ish I guess; hasn't sunk in yet. Mom…she's well, another discussion, for another time."

"Urrooo?" They cocked their heads and gave me the puppy eyes.

"No, that'll be all for now." I stood up and opened the sliding door to the basement patio, under the back porch. "Unless you have something else for me? No? Okay then, I'll call again once we've done some footwork. Transmission End." I killed the call and the Dogs left the basement to pad off quietly into the night. They each had their favorite spots around the property they liked to sleep and hang out in so they could see, hear or smell anything getting near the house. I decided against TV and called it a day.

In bed, I thought about the newest tenants in the collection of houses and trailers we "rent" out next door. The Nandaba's…very interesting family. Nice guys, very interesting. The Grandpa seemed harmless, but I'd bet he has a hidden, dormant side that's as tough as iron. The Dad may act a little goofy, but he is certainly not a slouch in the brains department. The Robot, it checked out as okay. It seemed they had managed to housebreak it somehow. I'd read each of their files from the I.I.B. and the G.G., the collection made for quite the literature. It was a real shame about Mrs. Nandaba, but that's life for you. The whole Mabase Incident was a real eye opener; how close Medical Mechanica had come to getting their Iron up and running. Only stopped by a twelve year old Naota. Huh. How 'bout them apples? I put out the light and got in bed, thinking about how Naota had managed to pull it off.

'Well Mr. Naota Nandaba, I hope that whatever it was that you pulled from your inner self, or N.O. channel, or what-have you, four years ago, is still with you. Because, if you're going to be working with Overwatch, and G&R for that matter, you'll need it. Guess we'll find out tomorrow.'

. . .

Hey, you, the reader! It's me again! How did I do? This chapter was fairly similar to the first edition of this story, a few parts I actually copied and pasted. Ain't nobody got time for retyping the entire thing. But hopefully this version explained things a little better, and presented characters in a different light than last time. Let me know what you think, and any suggestions, comments, concerns, random thoughts (try to make them somewhat relevant haha!), or questions, go in that little box in the corner. Thanks again for reading!