THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga
Chapter Two: The Return of Dr. K
Starring:
- Mike the Brainiac
- Harrison El Moustachio
- Jen
- Ripper the Squirrel
- Max the Axe
- Señor Spielbergo
- and a sweet vintage white Citroën 11 Légère Cabriolet
Friday.
“Well, this is going to be awkward,” said the man known as Moustachio to his friend, Brainiac II. Both were ensconced in comfy chairs on the front deck of Northern Lights HQ. They had a wonderful view of Lake Huron, as the breeze cooled their skin in the summer heat. All was peace. Though they were technically “on duty”, there hadn’t been a sign of danger in months. Until now.
A small blue car with a Triforce logo on it was pulling into the driveway of the cottage next door.
“Is that who I think it is?” asked an excited Braniac.
“Doctor Kathryn,” gulped Moustachio.
Brainiac noticed the moustachioed man’s trepidation. “Hey, what’s wrong buddy? My sister is awesome.”
“That’s just it,” sweated Moustachio, suddenly not feeling cool at all. “Your sister might not be too happy to meet the gene donor for your counterpart’s assassin.”
Brainiac blinked. “Say that again? I’ve had like two of these already,” said Mike while holding a can of his favourite strawberry cream soda “adult” beverage.
Moustachio spoke slower for him. “It was my clone, Shinzon, that killed the ‘original’ you, the brother she knew. Mr. Durling says that even though Shinzon is gone from this universe, she still might have…not a grudge precisely…maybe some negative feelings towards me, and by extension, maybe you too.”
“Ah!” smiled Brainiac. “No problem. I’ll just go over and say hello!”
Moustachio grabbed him by the shoulder. “Not yet. I’ve been preparing for this eventuality, and I’ve been reading her file. Let her unpack first. She doesn’t like unplanned guests. The file was very specific on that. According to the dossier…which I assume you have read…once she sent two vicious Schnauzers after a neighbour who merely wanted to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Of course I read the dossier,” lied Brainiac II. “But yeah, that is all true about her. I’ll bring a peace offering.”
The two watched Dr. K unpack her vehicle. To their surprise, dog after dog after dog poured out of the back seat. They all ran in an orderly line to the front door of the cottage, waiting to be let in.
“Good doggies at least,” commented Brainiac II.
“Vicious killers,” whispered Moustachio. “Hey, where is Ripper? He should stay clear of those beasts.”
As if on cue, a little black squirrel hopped down from a nearby pine, and landed squarely on Moustachio’s shoulder.
“Stay with me, Ripper,” instructed Moustachio. The squirrel nodded in the affirmative.
Brainiac and Moustachio hung back on the deck, with Ripper standing by, until Dr. K was done unpacking. Eventually, she emerged from the cottage with two dogs on leashes.
“She’s walking the dogs,” alerted Brainiac. “I’m going in.”
The two dogs led the way, one light brown and rather mutt-ly in appearance, the other a dark Schnauzer. Both growled as the stranger appeared on the roadway in front of them.
“Grrrr!” alerted the brown one to the black one.
The man approached. He had his hands in the air and was holding a frozen salmon.
“Hello!” he said in an awkward but friendly voice. “Long time no see!”
The girl in red with the sunglasses pulled back on the dog leashes. They both heeled, one on her right and one on her left.
“More like long time, never seen you before in my life,” she said with a warning tone.
“It’s me…Brainiac…your brother! I bring you the gift of fish! You don’t eat meat except fish, see I know that!”
“Anybody who Googles me could know that,” she answered coldly. “Give me that fish. Now what are you doing with that Australian asshole?”
Mike handed over the salmon cautiously, without getting too close. “That’s my friend, Harrison. He found me on my Earth in the multiverse, and brought me here to his home. He’s not the one who killed me…killed your brother, I mean. He’s good. I promise. I swear.” The Brainiac raised his right hand in solemn honesty. “He’s one of the good guys. We’re fighting the same enemy as you.”
Dr. K growled and the two dogs followed in turn. The chorus of growls was almost musical.
“We’ll see about that. Just stay out of my way this weekend. You mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”
“OK, that’s fine…” said Brainiac.
“And keep that Australian out of my sight!” warned Dr. K as she stormed past the Brainiac on her way down the road.
“How did it go?” asked Moustachio.
“Oh, great!” lied Brainiac. “We’ll be great neighbours. Just…I think you should probably stay indoors for the rest of the weekend.”
“Oh? Why?” queried Moustachio.
“Well,” gulped Brainiac, “She did mention that she didn’t want to see you around.”
“Ah,” answered Moustachio. “Perfect.”
“Don’t worry, I have this well in hand,” lied Brainiac some more. “Let’s both go inside and watch live Iron Maiden videos on Youtube, but on the big TV. You’ll love it. Come see.”
Harrison harrumphed, and went inside with his friend. Ripper the squirrel remained outside, for it was an unfortunate house rule: no squirrels inside. Inside, Ripper hopped over to the laptop on the deck and monitored for danger.
Sitting atop his perch, Ripper sniffed the air. “Squee squee!” he cried.
“What is it, friend?” said Harrison as he poked his head out the window. “Something amiss?”
“Squeeeeee!” answered Ripper in squirrel-ese.
“Oh! You smelled a skunk? Fear not. Brainiac said they are endemic to these woods, and are timid and harmless. You stay out of their way and you’ll be fine.” Ripper nodded in acknowledgement, and got back to monitoring.
Evening.
The air was still, but the sound of a booming bass clarinet echoed down at the lake. The Brainiac was making his way back up the path. The sun had set an hour ago, but at the beach he lingered. He had been waiting for this day ever since he arrived in this universe. He wanted it to be his new home, but it did not feel like home at the moment. Though he recognized every inch of this place, he felt was a trespasser today. The bass clarinet seemingly mocked his displacement; a thump of bass with his every footstep. It was an unpleasant feeling. It crawled over his skin like an insect.
Then he smelled it. That sweet yet horrible smell of skunk.
“I think one has taken a nest nearby. Best tread carefully this weekend.” The Brainiac stepped slowly and intently as he walked. You didn’t want to scare a skunk at night.
Upon reaching the road, he paused to look over at Dr. K’s place. There, she was hidden within “Kathronia”, her private rehearsal shed. The lights streamed through the window, and Brainiac could see her practising intensely. Two guard-Schnauzers stood at either side of the door.
Brainiac resumed walking, climbed the stairs and entered the brown cottage. Moustachio and Jen were waiting for him in the kitchen. They were working hard on building a Lego…something.
“Come and see what we made!” shouted Jen in excitement. Harrison simply grinned in anticipation.
Mike leaned over on the kitchen table and looked to see what they had been working on.
“Is that…me? A Minifigure me? With…a drone?”
“It is, and yes, that’s correct,” answered Moustachio in return. Now Jen was smiling.
“But I don’t own a drone,” said a confused Brainiac.
“That’s ‘Part 2’ of your surprise,” said Jen. “Max the Axe is on his way tomorrow with a new toy for you.”
“For me? A drone?” gasped Mike.
“You always said you wanted one,” said Moustachio. “Both old-you and new-you.”
“That’s true, I have, but I never thought I’d own one!” responded Brainiac.
“Well, Max the Axe called here about an hour ago with a brand-new one in the box. All he wants is to go for a swim in return,” informed Jen.
“Wow! I can’t wait for tomorrow!” screamed Mike in excitement.
Saturday.
Max the Axe sat on the front deck with Mike, Moustachio, Jen and Ripper. He cracked the top of a can of ice-cold beer and swigged it down. Jen was deep into a Tim Horton’s large, while Mike and Harrison were sipping sweet tea, a beverage they acquired a taste for on their last mission.
“I thought you wanted to swim, Max?” asked Mike of his new guest.
“Gotta chill first!” answered Maxie. “You got any tunes?”
“How about some Max the Axe?” answered Moustachio as he played “Gods on the Radio” from the laptop. Max nodded in approval and raised his beer.
“You know, I’ll be able to make some cool videos for you Max, with this new drone. Down by the River Grand, you playing a solo, me flying overhead…” The Brainiac was half-way through his new drone manual. It was charging up as the friends quaffed their beverages.
From next door, Mike saw Dr. K emerge from her cabin with seven or eight dogs. She began walking them down the road.
“Shit! Dr. K! Harrison, get inside!” instructed Mike. Harrison swiftly ducked indoors before Dr. K could see him.
Dr. K completely ignored them as she walked by. She had earbuds on, and did not turn her head even a little. The dogs, however, did.
“Hey doggies!” shouted Maxie from the porch. “Polly want a cracker?”
The dogs went on their way, out of sight down the road.
Afternoon.
Max was towelling off down at the beach. “That was a fantastic swim!” he proclaimed as he towelled off his excellent hair. “I feel completely refreshed and ready for my next beer.”
“How long are you planning on staying, Maxie?” asked the Brainiac who assumed it was just for an afternoon. Brainiac was flying his new drone up and down the beach. It was like second nature to him, as if he’d been doing it his whole life. The drone dipped, dived and dodged through the rocks on the lakeshore.
“How long? Just a couple days,” answered Max as he towelled some more. He shook his perfect hair like a dog. “Need to cool down and chill out.”
“Super,” said Brainiac. “Unfortunately there isn’t a spare bed, but you can pitch a tent on the vacant lot between me and Dr. K if you want.”
“Copy that,” said Max. “I came prepared. What’s for dinner?”
“I guess you didn’t come that prepared,” answered Brainiac. “We’re having Australian cuisine this evening. Vegemite on toast with kangaroo sausage.”
“That’s disgusting!” boomed a voice coming down the pathway. It was Dr. K.
“Oh, hey Doc,” said Mike. “You know Max the Axe.” Max waved over.
“You’re actually going to eat kangaroo meat? That’s disgusting. Your friend is a savage,” spat Dr. K.
“You’re welcome for the salmon,” answered the Brainiac with bitterness. “I’d offer to cook it for you, but I’m sure you don’t want your food anywhere near my friend the savage…who saved me, by the way.”
Dr. K ignored him and continued down the beach.
“Come on Maxie, let’s go,” said the Brainiac. The two walked back up the pathway to the cottage.
Midnight.
Max the Axe tossed and turned in his tent. The ground was hard beneath him, and his air mattress had a leak.
“Can’t…can’t sleep,” grunted an annoyed Max. Next door, the dogs woke up. Then the howling began. Dr. K’s dogs, awakened by Max, broke into song. They howled like wolves in the night. “Well now I really won’t be able to sleep,” complained Max as he got up. “Better go pee.”
Max stumbled out of his tent, and made his way across the road. He gazed at the stars as he peed. He sighed in tired relief as the remnants of his beer spilled into the dirt.
“Kangaroo sausage is kinda gamey,” said Max to nobody as he zipped up his pants. It was then that he smelled it.
“Smells like weed,” said Max as he sniffed. He heard something moving in the darkness. “Here, kitty kitty,” said Max to the shrubbery before him. The dogs sang their song behind him. The shape in the shrubs made a noise as it moved beneath his feet.
“Heeeeere kitty!” said Max excitedly as he saw a little black face poke out from the shrubs. The dogs increased their sing-song howling, as if they were warning of imminent danger. Maxie stepped further into the bushes. “Here kitty! Want a piece of kangaroo sausage?” The animal backed off immediately, and raised its tail. A black tail with a prominent white stripe running down. The animal turned and faced its tail towards Max.
“You’re a funny looking cat,” pondered Max as the dogs hit their crescendo. Then, a noxious spray hit him right in the face.
“SKUNK! SKUUUUNK!” screamed Max in horror as he fell on his back. The skunk scurried away in the night, just as scared as Max was.
Suddenly a pack of dogs tore loose from the front door of Dr. K’s cottage. They ran towards Max, gripped him by the T-shirt, and pulled with all their might. With their combined strength, they managed to drag Max out of the stinky bushes. Then, they ran back to the cottage just as fast as they came. Dr. K emerged, in a really bad mood.
“Thanks for waking up my dogs, Max,” she said sarcastically. “Oh dear god, that stink! Did you get sprayed by a skunk?” She plugged her nose.
“I thought it a was a bush cat!” answered Max.
Dr. K approached with a spray bottle in hand. Her nose was plugged.
“Looks like your bush was a patch of poison ivy. You have a fun day ahead of you tomorrow. Oh, that stink!”
Plugging her nose, she handed Max the spray bottle. “Take this. I have lots of experience with dogs getting sprayed by skunks. Use this, but use the whole bottle. And keep it down out here! It’s midnight! Some of us are trying to sleep! I have a big day tomorrow and I don’t need you idiots messing it up!”
“I’m just one idiot,” protested Max as he sprayed himself all over with the chemical in the bottle. “The other idiots are sleeping.”
“No we’re not,” called out Mike from a window. “Nobody’s sleeping now!”
“What are ya doing tomorrow?” asked Max.
“I have a video shoot for my new album here, and you all better stay out of my way!” Dr. K stormed back across the road and slammed the door.
Sunday.
It was a quiet morning. Dr. K was preparing for her video shoot while her dogs stood by loyally. Everyone else was laying low. The Brainiac sipped his coffee on the front porch. He stared intently at the water, doing his best not to look at or attract the attention of Dr. K. She was in a bad enough mood already, after the shenanigans of Max the Axe the night before. As for the Axe Man, he slept loudly in his tent between the two properties.
Harrison poked his head out the window. “Is it safe for me to come out?” he asked.
“Should be OK for a few minutes,” answered the Brainiac. “What’s up?”
“I’ll show you,” answered Moustachio. A moment later and he was on the porch with tablet in hand.
“Scanners are picking up a threat,” informed Moustachio. “According to this map, it is travelling on land, down highway 26. Roughly one and a half hours to arrival.”
Mike pulled on the little tuft of facial hair under his lip. He thought a moment. “Question one: How do we know it is a threat?”
Moustachio flipped the screen to another page. He pointed. “See here. Audio scans. There is absolutely no bass in a bubble around this vehicle. Judging by its trajectory and speed of 105 kilometers per hour, we know it’s a land vehicle like a car or truck. But it is the bass bubble that set off the alert. Whatever it is, it absorbs bass.”
Mike thought some more. “Two of us play bass instruments. It could be coming for me…or it could be coming for her.” He paused a moment. “Question two: Do we intercept, or wait?”
Moustachio smiled. “Intercept. Question three: Which vehicle do we take? We have our newly acquired vintage white Citroën 11 Légère Cabriolet, imported here from Europe and suped up by the Durling Foundation, and we have the Stealth Jet hidden away from prying eyes.” The pair had taken the liberty of re-locating both vehicles nearby for quick deployment.
“The Cabriolet!” said Mike as he clapped his hands together in delight. “You drive.”
“Roger Roger,” said Harrison.
“I’ll bring my bass, it might come in handy, or it might be useless. We’ll see. Allons-y!” commanded Mike.
Noon.
“There it is!” shouted Harrison as the wind whipped his hair in the open-topped car. Mike squinted his eyes and confirmed on the scanner.
“A huge bubble of absolutely no bass coming from that thing. 20 meters wide, maybe more. Good thing Durling equipped this Cabriolet with a subwoofer and a guitar input. I’m plugging in. Stop the car!”
Harrison pulled the vintage classic open-top car over and parked. Mike grabbed his acoustic bass from the back and plugged into the dash. He strummed. A throb of heavy bass chords blasted from the car sound system. Harrison plugged his ears, gave the thumbs up, and jumped out of the car. “Here!” he said to the Brainiac. “Ear protection from this point forward!” He handed his friend a set of high-tech noise cancelling earplugs.
The vehicle approaching them was now clear. Silver and sleek, it looked like something from a science fiction movie. Or outer space… thought Moustachio to himself. “Contact in 10 seconds!” he shouted. Mike responded with a thumbs up. He placed goggles over his eyes. This could kick up some dust.
“Six seconds!” alerted Moustachio. Mike prepared to pick.
“Two…one…NOW!” Mike strummed.
And nothing happened.
The silver car streaked past unhindered. Mike and Harrison’s ears poppped as the bubble of no-bass passed with the car. They looked at each other.
“Back in the car!” They jumped aboard and began pursuing the silver speedster. Harrison gunned it, and the car leaped back onto the asphalt, in a spill of gravel and dust. “Allons-y!”
Harrison sweat furiously as he fought to overtake the silver vehicle. “Don’t let him out of our sights,” ordered Harrison. Mike fired up the big screen and scanned. His brow furrowed. “Harrison…I think we’re in pursuit of a vehicle…that may be in pursuit of another vehicle! He seems to have caught up to, and is directly behind, a small blue car with a single passenger. Woah! Cancel that. He just ran the blue car off the road!” A cloud of dust exploded on the road ahead. “There! That’s it! Pull over!”
“If I pull over, I’ll lose the silver car!” warned Moustachio.
“We have to help this guy if we can,” reasoned Mike. Harrison nodded and pulled over directly behind a blue Honda in a ditch. The driver was getting out at that moment.
“What was that!?” asked the frantic driver who was clearly in the midst of a panic. “That guy ran me right off the road!”
“We’ve been following him and we have a few questions!” said Harrison. “Who are you exactly?”
The man brushed dust off his pants, though the road was still clouded with the stuff. “My name is Señor Spielbergo, I’m a music video director. I was on my way to film Dr. Kathryn’s new video for her album, but I’ll never make it now! Look, four flat tires!”
Harrison and Mike looked down and indeed, the man had four flat tires. He was not going anywhere.
“We have to leave pronto, we’ll call you a tow truck, sorry but we gotta go! C’mon Moustachio!” Mike signalled his friend to get in and continue pursuit.
“But wait!! Who are you guys?” asked the videographer.
“We’re the Northern Lights!” shouted Harrison as his car skidded away. “And we have an enemy to pursue!”
Afternoon.
Dr. K was absolutely seething. Not only was Max the Axe’s tent pitched in the exact spot she planned on filming her video, but her videographer Señor Spielbergo was late.
“I’ll film your video for you,” offered Max. “I have a super-8 camera in the tent.”
“About that…” growled Dr. K. “Move the tent, now! That’s where I’m playing my big solo! Right where you’re camping!”
“Well you can’t play your big solo without a camera,” reasoned Max.
“MOVE!” she bellowed, and then raised her bass clarinet to her lip. With a mighty breath, she exhaled and blasted Max five feet backwards.
“Alright, alright, I’ll move, jeez I was just tryin’ to help ya. I’m kind of a big deal you know.”
Dr. K turned her back and stormed off. Today was already a total disaster. If it wasn’t for the skunk stench lingering in the air, thanks to Max the Axe, it was definitely the missing videographer.
“At least that lousy Australian has stayed out of my way,” she mumbled.
It was then that she spotted the boomerang soaring over her head.
“Dr. K! DUCK!” yelled a deep voice with an Australian accent.
Dr. K hit the dirt and looked up. Three figures were running in her direction. The lead figure was one she didn’t recognize — a cyborg of some kind! Its robotic limbs propelled it at great speed in her direction. Its grey fleshy face stared as it ran. Behind it in close pursuit were the Australian named Moustachio, and her brother…or Brainiac II, or whatever he was calling himself.
Harrison caught the boomerang and hurled it again. This time it struck true and hit the cyborg in the back of the knee. There it lodged itself, and the half-man half-machine hit the ground with a thud. But the bass-heavy thud was immediately absorbed back into the circuitry of the cyborg.
No bass! Dr. K realized what this being was. An Anti-Bass! And extremely powerful alien android from the Planet Of No Bass, somewhere in Justice For All system.
“It’s here for me!” she exclaimed. She raised her bass clarinet and blasted as hard as she could. The bass dissipated in a wide bubble around the cyborg, but it was still on the ground, struggling with the metallic boomerang lodged into its leg. Then, it began clawing its way through the dirt, carving a trail in the earth.
Brainiac II, with his acoustic bass strapped to his back, raced to help his sister. Moustachio grabbed the half-electronic being by its other leg and tried to pull it backwards.
“Maybe if we both played the same note, we could overload that thing!” he suggested. Dr. K shook her head no emphatically.
“It’s still not enough power! We’d need three bass instruments minimum, and yours isn’t even amplified!”
“Wait! Look” pointed the Brainiac towards the cyborg. It’s not crawling towards you…it’s crawling towards the tent! It’s not after you…it never was! And it’s definitely not after me.”
“Who else could it be after?” exclaimed Dr. K. “I’m the bass clarinettist extraordinaire! Besides, who else here plays bass?”
“I do!” shouted Max the Axe from his tent. He was pulling a large Peavy bass amp behind him. “And I have the amplification, too! Come on Mike, you knew I played bass!”
“I did know that!” snapped Brainiac. “Plug me in! All three of us have to play the same notes, simultaneously, to beat that thing! It was after Max the Axe all along, I guess?”
“I told you I’m a big deal. Now hold on, I have to tune up you know. I’m a professional.” Max fidgeted with the tuning pegs on a nice shiny blue bass guitar.
“Hurry up Max!” cried Harrison. I’m losing my grip on this thing!”
At that moment, Max the Axe tuned his bass with exact precision. He looked the Brainiac in the eye. The Brainiac nodded in return and raised his bass, now plugged into the Peavy. Max turned his head and looked at Dr. K, who joined them in a line with her bass clarinet. She raised it to her lips and nodded. Then, they played.
The sound of the three bass instruments emanated with power, but were swiftly absorbed by the Anti-Bass bubble. The cyborg trembled and moaned something in a distorted digital voice. Harrison managed to pull it back three feet.
“That did something!” shouted the Australian. “Again! With feeling!”
The three musicians stood and blasted another note. This time, the circuitry on the cyborg’s head began to sputter and spark, as it cried in digital pain.
“One more!” commanded Harrison.
Together, they played the same note, as low as they could go, one more time. This time, the bass did not disappear in a bubble. With a loud tremor, the bubble imploded. The cyborg was crushed by the force, and fell to pieces. Harrison’s metal boomerang fell loose, undamaged. Harrison stood and collected his weapon.
“We did it!” he announced. “This cyborg is no more.”
The four high-fived in celebration.
“So, what happened to your cool car?” asked Dr. K of Moustachio and Brainiac. “You came back here on foot.”
“Three cars got wrecked in this adventure, though we were only responsible for two of them,” answered Harrison vaguely.
“The third vehicle belonged to your videographer, a Señor Spielbergo? He said he was on his way to film your new video today. I regret to inform you that he is now riding home in a tow truck,” informed the Brainiac.
“Well there goes my video!” stomped Dr. K in frustration.
“Why?” asked Max the Axe. “Don’t we have a brand new drone here to film you with?”
Everyone stopped and stared in silence at Max.
“Holy shit! This man’s a genius!” shouted the Brainiac.
Early evening.
A roaring fire blazed in the background as Dr. K played her bass clarinet solo for the drone overhead. Jen and Ripper the squirrel clapped on in excitement from the sidelines as they watched. Mike was fully absorbed in his drone controls, as he swooped overhead. Then he circled around Dr. K, who rotated in synch with the drone. As a favour, Max the Axe agreed to play guitar in the background. He looked cool as his hair was swept by the wind. The drone came down between the two and panned to the lake ahead.
This was going to be an awesome video.
Midnight.
A temporary peace was at hand. Around the fire sat Dr. K and nine dogs, Jen and Ripper the squirrel, with Max the Axe, the Brainiac and Moustachio. It was a tense truce. Dr. K didn’t want to be seated anywhere near the Australian, or the Brainiac that matter. Max the Axe had beer, at least. Deep in thought, she rewound the events of the last 24 hours. That Anti-Bass cyborg wasn’t here for her. That was a surprise to her. She’d been making waves through the galaxy as a mercenary for hire with a dog army, and she wouldn’t be surprised if somebody was looking for revenge.
She broke the silence. “So…if that cyborg wasn’t after me, why did it take out my videographer and try to ruin my video?” she asked.
Moustachio rose to answer. “Your videographer was just an unfortunate bystander. We had assumed the Anti-Bass was tailing him for many miles, but they just happened to be going to the same place. The cyborg was trying to outrace use, and Speilbergo didn’t get out of his way in time.”
Then Max the Axe suddenly awakened from his near slumber. “Wait a minute wait a minute. There are robots after me? Why? What did I do?”
The Braniac pondered this question. “It might not be something you did, but something you have. Do you have anything else of value in that tent of yours?”
“Yah,” answered Max. “I have three working tape decks, a Casio keyboard and a whole bunch of Starlog magazines from 1985-1986.”
“Bingo,” snapped Harrison with his fingers.
“Don’t you mean dingo?” asked a confused Max.
“No, Bingo, like you Canadians say. It’s the Starlog magazines. I have hunch. Mike, get me a light. Max, bring me the magazines.”
With Mike shining a light down, Harrison scanned through them issue by issue, until he reached the one he was looking for. July, 1986. Transformers: The Movie special issue. He opened it. Getting more excited page by page, Harrison knew he was on the right track. Then, he stopped. He gasped.
“There. There!” he pointed to a page. It was a fold-out.
“Complete schematics of Unicron the Planet Eater?” asked the Brainiac.
“Precisely,” answered Moustachio. “This is invaluable to us, and anybody trying to stop us. Get it scanned immediately. This could be everything. This could win the war.”
“War? What war?” asked Dr. K as Max stared agape.
Harrison grinned.
“Oh, we have a lot to catch you up on.”
To be continued…
THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN: PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 
THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN: PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA
THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS: PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA
SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS
THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’
THE WRITER’S ROOM
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