Putty

"I still don't believe it," said Rob Simpson. Rob was Dr. Storm Morgan's best friend. They had just finished eating lunch at Moseley's, a popular cafe three blocks from Storm's apartment on Granden Street, in Shadow City, and were now walking down the sidewalk. A thin man who loved comic books, Rob worked for the government, but never told what branch. IRS, CIA, FBI, MIB, Storm didn't care. They had been best friends since childhood. Of course, now that Storm himself could shapeshift after an alien abduction, Rob was dumbfounded.

"Believe it, Rob. I'll prove it to you one more time." The fingers on Storm's right hand melded together as the whole arm expanded into the same formation that Storm had used to impress his girlfriend, biogeneticist Kate Hawkins, the night before, namely the gun form from the movie The Mask. "But there's a catch, remember. I need 33-BXE to survive. I don't need food or water. In fact, too much water can harm me. It'll devastate my molecular coherency."

"Well, I'm amazed. What did Kate think?" inquired Rob.

"She thought that I should stick with the labs and not become a superhero."

"Wait a second. You're becoming a superhero? That is so cool!"

"Watch it, Rob. You almost slippped into Fanboy Mode there."

"Sorry."

"At any rate, Rob, I'm not becoming a full time superhero. I mean, the only full time superheroes in this world are Mr. Freedom, Crystal Soldier, maybe Monstrous, I don't know who else. I'm going to stick with the job at the labs, so I can keep getting the money." They were at Storm's apartment building now. "All right, Rob. See you later."

"See ya," said Rob as he walked away. Right as Storm entered the door, Rob tapped his left pocket.

Later, the same dark room as before. The man was sitting in his chair again. Again he called in Pryce, wearing the same black suit, but a Spider-Man tie this time, who this time adressed him by what seemed to be his name. "Clancy, my mission is complete. My mission is a success."

Pryce handed his boss the datacard for the mission. "Your mission was simple, Pryce. Your next mission is too important to be encoded on a data card. You will be given command of strike teams for this one. You must recover and confiscate all known 33-BXE in the world. Fail, and you shall not live to tell of it. Succeed, and you shall get a promotion to full time Squad Leader."

"Yes, sir," said Pryce. He turned and left the room.

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