Signal Panic, Inc. presents
Action Saxton & Saboteur [size=-2]& Krypto[/size]
in
"The Curious Case Of The Veracious Videotape!"
The moon rises over the dusty streets of Timbuktu, throwing the hotel Le Bouctou into sharp relief. At this time of night, the streets are deserted, with only a few stragglers wandering around, wondering where it all went wrong. Deserted, that is, except for three shadowy figures crouched behind a bush, one tall, one medium, one short.
After a few moments, the medium one speaks up.
"How long have we been sitting here?"
"Two hours, sucka," the larger man replies. "but if my finely-tuned and always correct detective skills are correct, our man should be arriving right about now."
At his word, a man on a motorcycle wearing a brown and gold jacket speeds up to the hotel. He parks in front of the doorway, puts the kickstand down, ties the bike to a nearby camel for safekeeping, and goes inside.
"So that's who we're after?" Saboteur asks.
"That's the sucka," Action Saxton confirms.
"Excuse me," Krypto pipes up, "I'm afraid you never informed me as to why we are hiding behind a bush in Mali."
"That's because you didn't need to know!" snaps Action Saxton. "You'll probably use your goofy alien mind control technology on this sucka we're pursuing and mess everything up."
"I left my all of my mental directive devices on my home planet, Mr. Saxton."
"Well why the hell didn't you say so?" Action Saxton points at Saboteur. "Tell him, Saboteur."
Saboteur adjusts his spandex and groans. "Do I have to?"
"Sucka, I just saved us from an alien invasion. It's the least you could do."
"I guess." Saboteur shrugs. "Okay, Krypto, when we were back at Saboteur Tower-"
"Saxton Tower."
"-we received a clue that some guy would be transporting a package containing a videotape that contains the footage as to who really attacked Mikey Stormrage."
"That's right, sucka, and I heard that those suckas in the New Church want that videotape for themselves. Now why the hell do you think that would be?"
"They are honorable and just and want to see who the culprits are just as badly as you two do?"
"Wrong! Clearly they want the tape to destroy it, because if I didn't attack Mikey and Saxton didn't attack Mikey and James Howard didn't attack mikey, who else would have done it?"
Action Saxton nods. "That's some damn fine detective work, Saboteur."
"But what about their evidence, Mr. Saboteur?"
"The bandana was to frame us."
"You're damn right it was to frame us, sucka," says Saxton, nodding. "You know that I treat my bandanas like red, flat, machine-washable children that fit around my manly forehead. I would never leave one just lying around like some kind of careless jive-turkey. That just ain't right."
"Not right at all. It would be like leaving my katana in the women's restroom at the Crayola factory, which I have never done before. I've never even been to the Crayola factory. Really. I promise."
"And so, Krypto," Saxton finishes, "that is why we're in Timbuktu, to teach those suckas in the New Church that they can't get one up on the Badass Brother and the Airborne Assassin and that goofy alien sucka who follows them around without there being hell to pay."
The three fall silent, staring intently at the hotel door. Saboteur speaks up.
"Did we ever find out why the pickup point for the videotape was in Timbuktu?" he asks.
Saxton folds his arms. "Do I have to explain everything around here? It's simple as bench-pressing the Jackson 5, sucka."
He digs into his pocket and pulls out an afro comb and a lighter.
"Okay, sucka, imagine you have this videotape of my fine and manly self. In fact, imagine it is my latest movie, Action Saxton Battles The Entire Roman Empire In A Game Of Bowling Using Exploding Bowling Balls, which is on sale at major retailers and WZCWShop.com now. Now you have two choices as to where to go to deliver this videotape to my arch-nemesis, Mexican Ninja El Habanero, because you want him to sneakily brush up on my new fighting techniques so he can ambush me. So you can either make the pickup point Delaware-"
He holds the comb up.
"-or Timbuktu."
He holds up the lighter.
"Now where the hell would you go?"
"I would think that Delaware would be an easier place for humans to blend into a crowd, with many public access areas that could offer shelter for shady interactions-"
"Timbuktu is a funny word."
"Exactly!" exclaims Saxton, pointing at Saboteur. "Timbuktu is a funny-as-hell word and everyone would want to do their shady business at a place with a funny name. So that is why we are here in Timbuktu waiting for this sucka to get the package so we can kick his ass and take the videotape for ourselves."
Satisfied, Saboteur turns back to the hotel. "He sure is taking a long time."
"Mr. Saxton and Mr. Saboteur," Krypto pipes up. "The gentleman you are pursuing left with the package five minutes ago."
Indeed, the motorcycle the man rode in on had been unhitched from the convenient camel and according to the large dust cloud in the distance, was quite a ways down the road.
"Damn!" Action Saxton swore. "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"
Krypto shrugs. "I was listening to the story."
Action Saxton grits his teeth and glares at Krypto. His hands start to curl into fists and uncurl again and again. Saboteur stands up and moves in between the two.
"Don't worry," he says. "The guy may be impossible for us to track now, but luckily I have one of the world's greatest trackers on speed dial!"
He brings a fist up to the ear-area of his mask and extends the thumb and pinky. He presses a few spots on the back of his hand and makes a few beeping noises. He holds it to his ear for a few seconds, before frowning and holding it in front of his head. He tries again, to the same result. He drops his hands to his sides.
"No reception," he says, sighing. "I knew I should have switched to Sprint."
"Do you know where this sucka is?" asks Saxton.
Saboteur nods. "We go way back. I once ran into him in the woods. Trust me, there's no better tracker than him."
"And you're sure it's worth venturing to wherever the hell he is in order to foil the New Church's plans?"
"Trust me. There's no one I'd rather have on our side than him."
----
"Tell me if I understand your plight," the tracker says, his voice slow and deep, his tongue embracing every word as it falls from his mouth, "you lost the man you were pursuing because you were discussing the benefits of Timbuktu with your extraterrestrial friend."
"That's right, Kravinoff," Saboteur says. "You said to come to you for guidance."
Hunter Kravinoff reclines against a tree and shines a coconut on his knee.
"I still do not understand you, Saboteur," he says, "or why you insist on your facade and the company you keep, but I am not one to turn away a man of my blood. I will help you find your man."
Action Saxton and Saboteur high-five in slow motion as Kravinoff looks on. Krypto tries to join in the high-five but is far too short. Kravinoff reaches behind a nearby rock and withdraws a large camouflage fanny pack. He walks to a flat rock and empties it out.
"What the hell is this, sucka?" asks Saxton, examining the lethal-looking implements scattered on the stone.
"This, my dark-skinned friend, is my tracking kit," replies Kravinoff. "Combining these sophisticated tools with my keen senses borne of being bred a wild man will certainly lead us to the man with the package."
Saboteur picks up a long, thin, white object. "What's this swizzly-stick-looking-thing?"
"The latest in wild-man technology, Saboteur," Kravinoff replies, "fashioned from the bones of a tiger found in the deepest and darkest depths of the Ugandan wilderness. It is used in conjunction with my natural instincts to track with the best of them."
"And this?" He holds up something that looks like a wooden donut.
"The absolute latest in technology of the wild-man, Saboteur," Kravinoff says, "created using the bark of a tree found in the deepest and darkest depths of the Ugandan wilderness. It is used in conjunction with my natural instincts to track like a professional."
"And these tube things?" asks Saxton, holding up two connected plastic metal tubes with glass in either end.
"Binoculars," Kravinoff says, taking them from him and repacking his tracking pack.
Saxton nods. "I see. I have never had to use binoculars, as my vision is as clear as the opposite of that sucka Alhazred's face."
Kravinoff hands Action Saxton the tracking pack. It is incredibly heavy, though not too heavy for Action Saxton, despite the fact that his feet have sunk several inches into the earth as a response to the sudden additional wait.
"On my home planet," Krypto pipes up, "I received Omega Trioculars for the traditional holiday of Slartibartfast."
"Well happy Slantybartiwhatever, sucka," says Saxton, dropping the tracking pack on Krypto's head. "You can carry this for us."
"Are you ready to help us track, Kravinoff?"
Hunter Kravinoff closes his eyes and inhales deeply, before exhaling through his mouth. He bends closely towards the ground, sniffs it, and reaches a finger down to taste the earth.
"Indeed I am, Saboteur," he says. "If you would hand me the swizzle-stick, we may proceed."
----
"It is just as I expected! He has made his way to Delaware!"
Once again our heroes find themselves sitting in a bush outside of a building, though now they are in the United States of America outside of a local burger shop in Delaware. They also find themselves in a much more cramped position than previous, as not only are the bushes much smaller, but they are joined by the Ugandan Wildman himself. Luckily, Kravinoff is an expert hunter and has trained himself to be as small as possible.
"If my natural instincts are correct, and as a proud man of the jungle they have never been incorrect, the man you are trailing should be arriving in the area shortly," Kravinoff says.
Action Saxton snatches the binoculars hanging around Krypto's neck and holds them up to his eyes. Oblivious to the alien's kicking feet, he looks around.
"Man, no wonder I never use these things," Saxton says. "You can't see nothin' with them!"
"You're using them wrong!" says Saboteur, snatching the binoculars and tugging Krypto the other way. "I took Advanced Binocularity in community college, so I should be the one using them."
He holds the binoculars to his mask and peers through the lenses. He turns to the left, and then to the right, as Krypto makes several undignified squeaking noises.
"Aw, you're right! Can't see anything!"
"Well give me them back, sucka, because I sure found something I want to look at!"
Action Saxton yanks the binoculars away from his tag team partner, causing Krypto to jerk upwards, hands flailing. The Badass Brother swivels around to stare at the voluptuous beauty that just walked past their hiding spot.
"Damn," breathes Saxton. "If I knew that Delaware was hiding some fine-ass honies with a fine ass like that fine-ass honey right there, I'd have come to this place earlier."
"Let me see!" exclaims Saboteur, leaning over Kravinoff and trying to pull the binoculars away. He tugs the strap, which is rotating around and around. Krypto kicks the both of them to no avail as the two tag team partners squabble over the binoculars.
"Enough!" barks Kravinoff, holding his hands out to separate the tag team champions and taking the binoculars for himself. There is a gurgle and heavy breathing from below as the strap untangles itself from Krypto's windpipe. "Look!"
The wildman points towards a figure walking down the path, a figure dressed in yellow and brown and holding a box. The four all look at each other.
"That is your man, correct?"
"You're damn right, sucka," Saxton replies. "And he seems to be going for a bite to eat, which to me means that it's time for us to take a bite out of crime and kick his ass while he is distracted."
"Wait!" Saboteur interrupts. "While I would normally be okay with this, I think subtlety is the best option in this case. He have to think of a way to get inside that place and grab the box from the pimple-faced package presenter."
Action Saxton ponders. "Yeah, sucka, you might have a point there. I don't want us to be charged with assault before we get the chance to lay the smackdown on those suckas in the New Church, not to mention those goofy-ass crazy-ass jive-ass dumbass candy-asses Holmes and Callahan. Mugshots ruin my delicious chocolate complexion."
"If I may offer one more piece of advice," Kravinoff interjects, "in the wild I would often find myself dressing in the pelts of animals to fool my prey into believing I was in fact that animal."
"Sucka, we know all about disguises," Saxton interrupts. "You're thinking it's time for one of 'em?"
"I believe so."
"Yes!" Saboteur exclaims, pulling a roll of clothes from a pocket in his spandex. "I knew lugging around these Burger Hut employee uniforms that I didn't at all steal from a Burger Hut in New Jersey would come in handy one day!"
"Sucka, you may be the most stupidly prepared partner I have ever had the pleasure of working with."
"Oh, stop," Saboteur says, blushing and waving a hand.
"I would suggest you two hurry up," says Kravinoff, "or your prey will escape. Quick to strike, quick to escape. That is the way of the hunter."
Saxton, Saboteur, and Krypto all nod in agreement and begin to change.
----
Inside the Burger Hut, Action Saxton and Saboteur take their places behind the cash registers, ringing up the orders of hungry customers in line. Every so often they shoot each other withering glances at the tedium of it all. Their quarry is fourth in line, but it feels like he is miles and miles away.
Behind them, Krypto is scurrying around, preparing food for the orders and bringing them to the front counter. The manager didn't give any of the a second glance when they came through the back and took over for the two lanky high schoolers who were on the register previously, and they didn't want to raise any suspicion before getting a chance to intercept the package.
After an eternity, the guy walks up to Saboteur. His helmet is off, and he runs a hand through his scruffy black hair as he looks at the menu.
"Welcome to Burger Hut," says Saboteur, "the home of the Triple Bacon Chicken Mushroom Bleusplosion Chipotle Burger - Heart Attack Or Your Money Back! What'll it be?"
"Uhh," the courier says, "I'll take one of those, I guess, and, uh, like five orders of fries, and, uh, one of those ice cream thingies, and some onion rings, yeah, and some, uh, some more fries, and chicken nuggets with honey mustard, and, uh, a Diet Coke."
"Gee, guy, that sure sounds like a lot of money. Do you have that much money? I don't think you do, so I'll give you a great deal. Don't tell anyone, though."
Saboteur leans forward, conspiratorally. The courier stares at him blankly.
"Okay, kid, you give me that package, and all this food is free. Got that? Sounds like a real deal, right?"
"Yeah, dude, uh, I can't really...do that," says the courier. "I'm gonna order from, uh, this guy, with the sweet 'fro."
Saboteur facepalms as the courier sidles over to Action Saxton's register.
"So, sucka, what the hell can I get for you?" asks Action Saxton to the package in the courier's hand.
"Uh, I'd like one of those burgers that the masked dude was all about," says the courier, "and, uh, a fish sandwich, and like five orders of fries, and uh..."
"Yeah, sucka, I remember, I just rang you up," says Saxton. "Now, that sure is a whole lotta food there, so I think you gonna need some help carrying it back to your table, right?"
"Uh, I guess."
"Of course I'm right, sucka, now why don't you give me that package you got and that way you can carry your food and you won't need no help."
The courier sighs. "Nah, dude, I'll be fine. I can't really let this thing go. Bad vibes, dude, and bad luck."
Action Saxton turns to Saboteur, panic in his eyes. Saboteur shrugs and gestures wildly.
"So, uh, can I get my food?" asks the courier.
"Coming right up, sir!" says Krypto from under the counter, holding a tray piled high with food. Suddenly, his foot strikes the binoculars he is still wearing. "Oh no!"
Oh no is right. As Krypto trips over his binoculars, the food goes flying into the air, over the counter, and showers all over the courier.
"Oh, dude!" the man cries, throwing the package in the air. "Eyes! Fries! Eye-fries! Fry-eyes! Food! Hot! Dude!"
Saboteur stretches out as the package goes plummeting to the ground and manages to snatch it out of midair as the courier rolls around on the ground, shrieking about the pain of french fries. The three look at each other and in the commotion sneak out of the back of the Burger Hut.
----
"Hell yeah, suckas!" exclaims Saxton. "We did it!"
"That we did, Saxton, that we did," says Saboteur, waving the package around. "And the little guy didn't mess everything up too badly this time!"
"I tripped over the binoculars," says Krypto, happily.
"Excellent work, you two," Kravinoff says. "What do you plan on doing with the videotape?"
"Well, we got an appointment on The Show later," says Saxton. "And what a better place to show off our evidence than on national TV?"
"Yeah! That'll teach those goofs in the New Church to frame us!"
"You seem to no longer need my help," Kravinoff says. "It is now that I must take my leave. Remember what you learned today: moss always grows to the north."
And just like that, the Ugandan Wildman was gone. Saboteur scratches his mask.
"That doesn't sound like much of a moral."
"I don't think I understand that sucka."
"And I doubt I will ever truly understand you two."
The three look around for the source of Kravinoff's voice, but are met with nothing but the Delaware scenery. Shrugging, they set off to catch a ride. After all, they have a Show to get to.
