Kismet Krunchies, featuring the secret ingredient known only as Kismet Green, hit supermarkets across the globe a year later. It met with even greater success than Seizure Pops had. Angus, convinced that Seamus had stolen his haggis idea, spent his savings to develop a powered suit of armor so that he could become an overpowered defender of the little guy. Literally.
The Iron Scotsman was born.
__________
Atomik Lad sat in front of the computer monitor while clicking away at the keys and listening intently to the exposition as it wrapped up.
“All right,” the sidekick said. “The results should be displayed any minute now.”
Nuklear Man stood behind Atomik Lad and leaned down on the seat back. “What's it say, what's it say, what's it say?”
“Calm down.”
“How did it know?”
“Shh!”
Angus stood beside Atomik Lad. Seamus sipped on a cup of juice while gazing up the high hollow tower of the Silo.
“Hmm,” Atomik Lad said. “The computer is having trouble pinning it down. It’s inorganic in origin,” Atomik Lad noted from the results as they slowly scrolled up the screen.
“Sounds like haggis to me!” Angus said.
Atomik Lad’s face flashed with surprise, “Rocket fuel?”
“No
wonder
it's so good!” Nuklear Man praised. He immediately stuffed a fistful of Krunchies into his mouth. Crumbs cascaded down his body.
Angus wheeled around and stomped loudly to Seamus who was still examining the incredible height of the Silo's roof. Or the incredible depth of its floor, either way.
“Why didn’t ye tell me after all these years?”
He faced his old friend. “You wouldn’t let me. And would you be believin’ me anyway?”
“No,” Angus mumbled into his beard.
“And besides, the boy-o’s in legal said it would be bad for business if anyone caught wind that Kismet Green was rocket fuel and not something a little more edible.”
“But how?” Atomik Lad was beside himself. “Who...I...” he took a deep breath. “Why didn't anyone notice it was a powerful explosive and not some kind of sugar?”
“Well, when Angus gave me his recipe for Scottish Squishies we tried taste testin’ it. When we told ’em it was made o’ haggis, they either ran screaming or asked what haggis was and
then
ran screaming. This o’ course was the normal response. But we couldn’t exactly keep that up ’cause we would’a had to pay for stomach pumpings and probably get sued on top o’ it. So I came up with the idea of makin’ a cereal with an non-hideous but merely fatal ingredient and makin’ it a secret for the cereal’s gimmick. We couldn’t use haggis, obviously. If anyone found out about it we’d be in a real mess. I came into a huge shipment of rocket fuel through my industrial ties, so I figured ‘Feh, why not?’ and tried it out.” He chuckled to himself. “Guess it was the right choice, eh boy-o’s? So you see, Angus? I didn’t rip ye off. But ye always be yellin’ and makin’ a racket. Ye temper was always too much fer the cereal business.”
All eyes were on Angus. His head hung and his shoulders slumped. “Aye, Ah now see Ah was too hard on ye, Seamus. But there's one thing I wants to ask ye.”
“Aye?”
“What be ye doin’ in ye own power armor suit?”
“I can’t be lyin’ to ye, boy-o. I been keepin’ up with ye overhero career, defending Scotland and the occasional bit o’ Whales from villainy, founding the International Dwarven Warrior’s Guild and so on. I been mighty jealous. So I had the boys down in R&D workin’ for years to come up with me own powered suit based on yer design. I was getting' too old to run the company anyway, left it to me son, Patrick.”
The two dwarves hugged one another in a very metallic and masculine showing of friendship, “Welcome to the overhero lifestyle, laddie,” Angus said while they patted each other's back with little klonk noises. Manly tears were very nearly shed.
“Come on, boy-o. Let’s hit the town and get rip-roarin’ drunk, eh?”
“Aye!” He turned to his taller companions, “If’n ye be excusin’ us, Nuklear Man and Atomik Laddie. We gots thirty years o drinkin’ to catch up on!”
“Of course, but—” Atomik Lad said.
“DWARF-A-PULT!!!”
“LEPRE-CANNON!!!”
“—don't you think we oughta open the doors first?” the sidekick finished.
KLANG
!
KLONK
!
Nuklear Man and Atomik Lad pried their vertically challenged partners from the Silo’s roof and set them loose on the city. No bar, pub, or tavern would be safe from their drunken escapades. As for Nuklear Man and his sidekick, they retired to their respective sleeping quarters for a well-deserved night's sleep.
Evil wakes up mighty early in the morning.
__________
Issue 9 – College Daze (IT IS A CLEVER PLAY ON WORDS!)
Atomik Lad awoke with a yawn and a stretch. He reached over and turned off his alarm clock two minutes before it would have gone mad with its screeching hell-beeps. He tossed the covers off and shambled into the shower. Once his daily cleansing ritual was complete, the sidekick covered his shame with a green towel and walked into the Danger: Kitchen. Nuklear Man had left a box of Kismet Krunchies on the Danger: Kitchen Table the night before. Atomik Lad pulled a bowl from one of the Danger: Cupboards and idly poured himself some cereal. He shoveled a spoonful and paused with it hovering before his lips.
“No milk,” he said to the empty room like it was a verdict. This allowed him enough time to remember what he'd found out about Kismet Krunchies the night before. He dropped his spoon in the bowl and pushed it aside. “Maybe some waffles.”
__________
Washing his Danger: Dishes, Atomik Lad noticed the Danger: Phone and cursed the day he bought Nuklear Man that label maker for Christmas.
“Hmmm...Christmas.” He dried his hands, picked up the phone and dialed.
RINNNNNG
,
RINNN
— “Hello, Mighty Metallic Magno Man residence. If you are a villain, press one now and stay on the line for further assistance. If you know the name of the villain committing the heinous crime you're calling about, press two now. If you—”
“Norman?”
“Oh, that you Atomik Lad?”
“Yeah, what was that?”
“I love that joke, and it keeps the telemarketers away. Aren't you supposed to be in school by now?”
“Nah, I've got a few minutes before I gotta go. I was just calling because Nuke got a weird note from someone claiming to be his father. It said ‘Happy Birthday’ and was signed ‘Dad’.”
“Now that’s weird. You worried it might be from some freaky stalker?”
“Not really. I mean, if the latent radiation around this place didn’t get him, one of Nuke’s Plazma Beams would.”
“True, true. So what’s up?”
“I thought it would pretty cool if we could throw him a party tomorrow. He’s never had one before, y’know.”
“Sure. What’cha need?”
“I’ve only got on Wednesdays, so I should be out of class by eleven. I thought we could hit the mall and find him a present.”
“All right, I’m there. I’ll meet you on campus around eleven then.”
“See you then, bye.”
“This has been a recording. Click.”
Atomik Lad shook his head and hung up the Danger: Phone. After cleaning the Danger: Sink, he suited up, snatched his
Physics: The Way Things Should Be
book, and shot out of the Silo’s main doors with a smile.
__________
The cityscape rushed up to greet Atomik Lad like parents meeting their long lost child. He criss-crossed between austere buildings that refracted a hundred suns until the University of Metroville filled his sights. He landed with precision on the North Lawn and went into a jog towards Building Four, room 2A of the Tezuka Physics Complex.
The room was a large auditorium with a downward incline and a long chalkboard and desk at the front. Atomik Lad sat, as he always did in every class he had in his life as a hero, in an aisle seat near an exit. He did this to be able to rush out as efficiently as possible in case of any emergencies. He slouched in his seat, closed his eyes, and immersed himself in thoughts of what he and Norman might buy Nuklear Man.
“Hi there.”
Could it be, “Rachel the waitress?” He sat up and smiled warmly without realizing it. “What are you doing here?”
She sat next to him. “Well you know how it is.” She adopted a ditzy look, “Math is hard because I'm a girl. So I’m sleeping with Mr. Minkie to get a passing grade.”
“And here I thought I was the only one.”
“I hope you’re not too good, you’ll ruin the curve for me.”
Atomik Lad laughed with her. “I just meant I've never noticed you were in this class.”
She glanced at the totality of Atomik Lad. “We can’t all wear full body spandex, its’ against the dress code.”
“It’s not all it's cracked up to be. Terrible chafing if you don't know what you're doing. Took me years to get it just right. It’s an art.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to take your word on that.”
“Um...” Atomik Lad began nervously. He had to talk before his brain caught up with what was happening and screw up everything. “When do you get out of class today?”
She answered with a grotesque exaggeration of a southern accent, “Why, Mr. Lad! I do believe you are tryin’ to court me!”
“I can’t waste any time. I’m a busy man.”
She continued the southern belle impersonation and batted her eyelashes rapidly, “Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Yes, but I really only meant it just now. And call me John, it’s my real name.”
“All right, John. And to answer your question, I'm in class until six and then I’m working until eleven tonight.”
“Oh.”
“But tomorrow I’m free.”
“Oh? How about coming with me to a party?”
“You don’t strike me as the party type.”
“I’m not, but this is for...a friend of mine.”
“Well, as long as it’s fun.”
Atomik Lad thought about it for a minute. “I guarantee there won’t be a dull moment. Does that count?”
“Close enough. I’ll give you a call then, all right?”
“Very. The number is—”
“I know your number.”
“How?”
“The emergency HERO line. They taught us that with 911.”
“Oh yeah, I guess they would.”
Their professor walked into the auditorium murdering the pre-class chatter immediately.
“Class is starting,” she whispered. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She left Atomik Lad, his mouth agape, and winked before disappearing behind some last minute stragglers looking for a place to sit.
“I’ve got a date,” Atomik Lad said to himself in blind comprehension of the moment.
The student in front of Atomik Lad turned around and whispered, “Welcome to real life, Mr. Smooth.”
Atomik Lad playfully kicked at the seat back, “Aw shaddup, Alex.”
“You're right. I should save my heckles for Mr. Minkie down there,” he smiled a wry, devious smile and turned around to face the barren chalkboard.
__________
The vision was a dark one. A cave. A labyrinthine cave. Cold, damp, and lonely. If there had been any light from the entrance, it had either faded long before it could reach him or it was blocked by something massive along the way. A foul smell, like a mixture of rotting flesh and stagnant filth, penetrated his senses.
“Nuklear Man,” an echoing voice desperately pleaded from the cave’s depths, “I haven’t much strength, my son.”
“Dad?”
“You must free me, son. Free me...”
“How? Where are you?”
“Can't...many names...Darkest corner, imprisoned...weakening...”
Nuklear Man's mind raced, which was surprising, but not so much that it distracted him from this link to his past. “Who am I? Where am I from?”
“Free...me...”
“Father!”
The vision faded. Nuklear Man sat bolt right up in bed. He clapped the lights on and his familiar room was revealed. There was the Danger: Wall of Accomplishments wallpapered with news clippings of his adventures. His Danger: Vanity Mirror, his collection of Captain Liberty comic books, his Danger: Other Vanity Mirror, his Danger: Mini-Fridge, and his Danger: Other, Other Vanity Mirror.
He glanced at the Danger: Clock. “Ten?! Lousy subconscious wakin’ me up early. What you do for Nukie? Hmmphf.”
Nuklear Man silently floated out of bed and into the waking world. The futuristic
fwoosh
sound of his bedroom’s door automatically opening greeted him. Yawning, scratching, and several inches from the floor, he entered the Danger: Kitchen to pick up his box of Kismet Krunchies. He landed in a sitting position on the Danger: Couch. He propped up his feet on the Danger: Coffee Table and turned on the Danger: TV with a finger-gun motion and a masterful manipulation of his powers. He stuffed messy handfuls of Kismet Krunchies into his mouth and spilled crumbs all over himself. He chewed so loudly he could barely hear his cartoons. Click-Chew-Munch-Click-Chew-Munch Click-Chew-Mun—
A spider scurried between the Danger: TV and Danger: Coffee Table. Nuklear Man’s eyes followed the arachnid invader until it slipped under a door aptly labeled Danger: Reactor Core. The warning had become somewhat cliché and obsolete in light of the vast abundance of Danger: Labels plastered all over the Silo.
“Heh, stupid bug. There's enough radiation in there to fry an elephant.” He was about to stuff another fist full of Kismet Krunchies in his mouth when his sky-blue eyes drifted back to the Danger: Reactor Core. “Still. Couldn’t hurt to kill it.”
He set the cereal box down on its side. Half its contents spilled between the Danger: Couch cushions. He picked up one of his slippers and considered the bug-gut stain it would surely suffer. He dropped it in favor of one of Atomik Lad’s slippers. Nuklear Man crept up to the Danger: Reactor Core entrance. Armed with only Atomik Lad’s slipper and his Nuklear Boxers spotted with electron orbited hearts, he gripped the doorknob.
He threw open the door and jumped inside. It was complete darkness save for the light provided by the open door.
He clapped the lights on. Between the Danger: Reactor Core at the opposite wall and himself was the spider. The spider that now towered twenty feet high. Each of its eight legs was thicker than Nuklear Man's chest. Its bristly and greasy hairs glistened in the fluorescent lighting. Its huge fangs dripped with what Nuklear Man would have assumed to be poison if it weren’t collected in sizzling pools of green goo on the floor.