

BEARMAN

BEARBOY

BUTLER

& SON

E. Neslo
Index

Sunday  
Monday  
Tuesday  
Wednesday  
Thursday  
Friday  
Saturday  
A Note from the Author

Sunday

It was going to be 'Bring Your Child to Work Week'. The Mayor had declared so and in the Bjorn household they listened when The Mayor declared things. Boris Bjorn was a good friend of The Mayor during the day, when he was known as the founder and director of Bjorn industries, and he was a staunch defender of The City after dark when he put on the Bearsuit to become Bearman.

It was a testament to Boris' knack for keeping his secret identity a secret that The Mayor had no idea that Boris and Bearman were the same person. This secret had been kept through all the battles Mayor and hero had fought together - almost always on the same side. And when you were mayor and superhero, the battles you had to fight were many, both big and small. Bring Your Child to Work Week did not begin as the most dangerous challenge they had faced, nor did it begin as a threat to the safety and happiness of their city. It began as merely another addition to the long list of things that needed doing, a list that seemed to grow every day, because that was what being responsible adults was like. That was what the children had to learn about during Bring Your Child to Work Week. This Boris explained to his son, Viktor, and to Viktor's best friend, Albion. Like Viktor and Boris, Albion lived in the Bjorn mansion. He lived there with his father, Albert, who was Boris' trusted butler.

Boris' booming voice filled the large mansion hallway like clouds greying up a blue sky. "You will pay close attention this week. That means no games on your phones, no movies on your phones, and no texting. Do you understand?"

The two boys reluctantly put their phones away. But Viktor realized his father had not mentioned anything about taking pictures, so he put on his best big-boy smile and posed for a selfie. He immediately uploaded the picture with the caption "Dad is explaining about BYCTWW. Cool stuff." He was saying this out loud as he typed so the others wouldn't feel left out, because Viktor didn't want to be rude. He wanted to be a hero just like his Dad. Viktor was strictly speaking not supposed to know that Boris was Bearman, but like many children he knew a great deal he wasn't supposed to – which he made up for with a corresponding lack of understanding in other areas. For example in understanding of his father's instructions. Viktor wondered out loud. "Maybe we should say BYCToWoW instead BYCTWW. It's longer but it sort of sounds like a word."

As soon as Albion had seen Viktor take the picture he had had the idea of doing the same thing himself. But he was still only warming up his smile when he noticed the frown that had formed on Boris' significant eyebrows.

"Why would you think taking pictures of yourself while I'm telling you to pay close attention is a good idea?" Boris asked. "Is it because I only explicitly mentioned games, movies and texting? Can't you think for yourselves?"

"But Dad, that's what I'm doing." Viktor said. "You're always telling me to remember what you're saying, and this picture is the best reminder. It says more than a thousand words."

Albion still hesitated. He was ready for his selfie but he could see Boris was not happy. At the same time, Viktor had already taken a picture, so it was unfair if Albion could not. Albion glanced at Viktor, Viktor glanced back, but that was of no help. Viktor already had a selfie, he just looked satisfied with himself.

"These pictures..." Albion began, and saw Boris' bushy eyebrows rising higher, which meant he did not have much time to explain. "...can show everyone how seriously we take BYCToWoW."

"So we're really calling it that now?" Mumbled Boris.

"I suppose it is somewhat quicker to pronounce, Sir." Said Albert, who was standing next to Boris with a discreetly amused expression on his face.

"Yes." Said Boris slowly. "And I suppose your boy has a point too. It would be good to let everyone, especially The Mayor, know that we support BYCTo...um..." Boris grimaced. "You know what I mean. Viktor, share that photograph. I will show it to The Mayor myself at The City Hall Charity Ball this Friday." Boris eyebrows' settled into two peaceful tufts on his broad brow as he considered this pleasant future.

Albion thought of saying "CHaChaBall" out loud and decided he liked the idea. It was actually a better word than the one Viktor had made up, when you really thought about it, but before Albion had the satisfaction of sharing this discovery Boris was talking again.

"Good thinking, Albion." Boris' eyebrows resumed formation, taking the shape of a wall on his forehead. "But we must not allow ourselves to get distracted. Let's say, um, three selfies and no more for the week. Three, you understand? And that's one for you already, Viktor. Good job getting me in there too, but it still counts. Two left."

"Come on, Dad." Viktor sputtered. "Three selfies for a whole week? That's like living in the middle ages!"

"What's that?" Boris said. "Is three the wrong number? Because I can think of at least two other numbers right now, nice and small. Very easy to think of."

Viktor sighed. "No Dad, you misunderstand. I wasn't complaining, I was just thinking of my history homework. Three is a great number."

"I thought so." Said Boris. "Yes, Albion, you have a question?"

Albion had raised a hand. "I was just wondering, when we go to work with you can we also come with you if there is an... _emergency_?"

Viktor immediately began nodding with vigor and enthusiasm. "I think we really ought to." He said. "That's work too and rules are rules. Just like you always say, right Dad? So if The Mayor says it's Bring Your Child to Work Week then you just have to take us with you." He was so excited he forgot to use his own abbreviation.

" _Emergencies?_ " Boris asked, and Viktor and Albion nodded even more. Boris and Albert exchanged looks, and it was hard to tell if they were concerned or amused. " _Emergencies_ are not for young boys to get tangled up in. They are dangerous. Very dangerous, in fact. Far too dangerous for children." Boris paused, observing the earnest, pleading eyes staring up at him. He smiled warmly. "On the other hand, if The Mayor says so..."

Sunday – part II

When villains struck and Boris and Albert had to leave in the middle of the night, they tried to do so without alarming the kids. When Albion and Viktor were small, Albert brought them with him to his destination, the Bearcave underneath the mansion, where the kids had slept like little angels or wailed like little devils, as the mood struck them. From there, in peaceful silence or haunted by screams, Albert could assist Boris from close to home while Boris chased villains around The City. But when the boys grew up and started to understand things, it was decided it was not suitable to expose them to the world of villains and monsters quite yet. Instead, Boris and Albert would refer to _emergencies_ at work and say no more. But even then Viktor and Albion had known better, and they often dreamed of the day when they would get to come along on one of these _emergencies_. So when Boris turned to Albert and asked. "Are they ready, Albert?" The hope and expectation in the air was thick enough to knock a villain on the head with.

"They are certainly eager." Albert offered. "But ready? I'm not so sure."

The room fell very quiet. Then Albert added. "But if I remember correctly, neither were we in the beginning."

Boris nodded. He smiled. "That's decided then." He said. "You may assist in case of emergencies. But only if we're happy with your behavior the rest of the week. If you cannot follow instructions under normal circumstances how can we trust you to follow them in a crisis?"

Viktor and Albion could not believe their luck. They exchanged looks that expressed the sentiment "we are going to be superheroes!" and if they didn't high-five and hug each other, it was only because they thought superheroes stayed cool in all situations. Boris cleared his throat and the boys made sure to pay immediate attention as a first demonstration of how well-behaved they would be. They would let nothing come between them and glorious adventure.

"Viktor." Said Boris. "You will go with Albert to have your measurements taken for a Bearsuit. And for a regular suit as well, actually, for non-emergency work."

Viktor floated on a cloud of happiness over to Albert. Albion waited excitedly for his turn.

"Albion." Albert said. "You come with me and help measure Viktor."

It took a few seconds for Albion to understand what Albert was talking about, but then comprehension hit him like an uncooked egg on the back of his head. He felt as if something cold and clammy oozed down his shirt. Albion would not get a Bearsuit of his own because only Viktor would need one. Viktor was going to work with his dad, Boris, while Albion would follow Albert to work as Boris' and Viktor's butler. Albion and Viktor had been best friends their whole lives. Their rooms were right next to each other and they had done everything together for as long as they could remember.

Viktor turned around slowly. "Dad?" He said.

Albion was speechless. In his mind he had already been chasing villains down dark alleys with Viktor and Boris. A brilliant fantasy! But Albion would never get to do that. He would learn to be a butler. Viktor and Boris would chase the villains, while Albion would dust off the marble statues in the hallway.

Bring Your Child to Work Week suddenly seemed unfair to the point of being unfit for children. Albion hung his head. He knew everyone were looking at him, so he forced his legs to lift his feet, which was not easy because his feet had become very heavy. When he joined his father and Viktor, Albion felt his father's hand on his shoulder, but then Albion suddenly found his feet movable again and jumped ahead out of reach.

"Yes, that's the spirit!" Said Boris. "No time to waste. Off you go, both of you. Make sure to get a good night's sleep, too. We begin first thing tomorrow morning."

Monday

Rules were rules, and The Mayor had not declared people should bring someone else's child to work. Heroes, of all people, had to set a positive example and obey the rules. Boris often said that otherwise heroes were just vigilantes. And vigilantes, if they had any sense of decency, would be too ashamed to show themselves at The City Hall Charity Ball, let alone shake The Mayor's hand. So Boris said. So there was no hope for Albion.

Still, being a superhero's butler's son did have advantages. On Monday evening, after sulking in Albert's footsteps all day while Albert did his butlery work, Albion was allowed to enter the dungeons beneath Bjorn Manor, also known as The Bearcave, for the first time in his life. It was not the first time Albion saw it, only the first time he was there with permission, because Viktor and he had long since discovered the secret passageways of the Bjorn family mansion that led to, among other places, the Bearcave.

Albert knew this, but when he opened the hidden door in the manor drawing room and led his son down the winding stairs he still hoped to give his son a new perspective on the cave and the work of a superhero's butler. He still hoped to summon a little bit of childlike wonder in his son when he gave him the guided tour. Albert first led Albion to a room lined with high-security metal doors. One of them was open and revealed one lonely hook hanging inside, as if a fisherman was sitting upstairs and waiting for something to bite.

"This is where we keep the Bearsuit." Said Albert proudly.

"It's an empty closet." Albion observed, and it was clear from his tone of voice that he was not impressed by empty closets.

"That's because Mr. Bjorn is wearing the Bearsuit right now." Albert explained.

"I know." Said Albion.

Albert guided him to the next room. "In here is where we wash the Bearsuit. There's generally no telling where villains have been, but they are often very dirty and some of that dirt inevitable rubs off on a hero in the chaos of a battle." Said Albert.

"I get it, Dad, this is the washing room." Said Albion.

"But did you know it's also the making room?"

Albion hesitated. "You make the Bearsuit here?"

"Well, in a way. I put all the different components of the suit together. But there is of course a lot of high-tech stuff in them that we can't make at home."

"You mean all the cool stuff that gives Bearman superpowers?"

"Yes. Though you might say that the biggest superpower is the idea of Bearman, which we do help to create right here."

Albion frowned. "Isn't Bearman's biggest superpowers his incredible strength and toughness which he uses to defeat the villains."

Albert nodded. "I admit there is some truth in that." And Albert, who saw that Albion was still not impressed, then tried another direction: "You're a quick learner, that's good, I see I shall not take you by surprise with any of our secrets. But perhaps you'd like to see the actual dungeon part of the dungeon? You know, where we keep the villains until it's safe to hand them over to the police."

Albion hesitated again. "Are there any villains there right now?"

"Well, no. Not right now."

"So it's basically just more empty rooms?"

"I would say it's a little more complicated than that. A lot more complicated, actually." Albert tried his best to smile in a way that suggested mysteries lying in wait around the corner.

"OK, Dad." Albion sighed. "Then let's see the rest of the empty rooms."

But right then Viktor's disembodied voice poured out from speakers installed along the walls and waylaid them. It was shaking with excitement.

"Albion, Albert. This is Bearboy calling home base. Do you read me? Over." Viktor was whispering but the speakers were amplifying his voice so Albert and Albion heard every quiver of danger and adventure.

"Yes, Viktor." Albert replied. "We hear you loud and clear."

"Home base. This is Bearboy reminding you that we have to keep my identity secret in case anyone is listening in."

Here the deep, rumbling voice of Boris joined the conversation in the hallway.

"No need for that, Viktor. This line is secure. Anyone clever enough to crack it would already know all our secrets."

A short pause followed, then Viktor's voice resumed, just as breathlessly as before. "Home base. Bearboy calling again. Disregard my last instruction. I repeat, disregard last instruction. Dad says you may call me Viktor. Do you copy?"

"It's quite alright, Viktor." Albert said. "We understand."

"Home base, Bearboy here again. Where is Albion? Albion are you there? Why are you so quiet? Over."

Albert looked hopefully at his son and Albion supposed there was no way around it.

"Hi Viktor. I'm right here. We hear everything you say just fine. You don't have to keep saying over, over and over again. I'm sorry, but it sounds stupid."

A stunned silence followed. Then Albion felt bad and added, with a sigh. "This is home base acknowledging your transmission. Over."

At this Viktor burst out in excited giggles so contagious that Albion couldn't suppress a small smile himself. He nearly giggled too, but Boris's deep rumbling voice spoke up over the commotion, the bass in his voice resonant enough to tickle the hairs of anyone standing directly under a speaker.

"We are keeping the neighborhood under observation, Albert. Could be anytime now."

"Very good, sir." Albert replied. "We shall prepare to assist you immediately." With a little smile he added: "Home base over and out."

Then he turned to Albion. "Now, enter the control room and take a seat at the computer."

"The control room?" Albion said. This was not a room he and Viktor had discovered yet.

Albert confirmed, then put his hand on a section of the wall near where they were standing. It looked just like any other section of wall, but at Albert's touch it opened to reveal a large room filled with various electronics and cabinets. On one wall a large map of The City was projected and in front of this, the computer terminals of the control room welcomed them inside.

Monday - part II

"The control room." Said Albion to himself. It was a hidden room in a secret dungeon, wrapped in an exclusive mansion. Albion's first thought was to tell Viktor of his discovery, but then he remembered that Viktor was busy making discoveries of his own. Albion oriented himself. He studied the big map and noticed two green dots, one large and one smaller.

"This is Viktor and Boris' current location." Said Albert. "This map is the strategic overview, it is so large because it is always important to keep the big picture in view. However, it is just as important to know where in the big picture we are right now. Look here."

Albert pointed to a rack of monitors, each displaying a different video feed. One of them showed Viktor in the Bearboy suit. Most of Viktor's face, and all of his brown bushy hair, was hidden from view, and the suit made him look bigger than he was, but it was clear it was Viktor because he was nowhere near as large as the person on the other screen, which was obviously Boris in the Bearman suit.

"Those are the snout-cams" Albert explained. They let us see what Viktor and Boris see. Right now they are looking at each other, but look, now Boris observes his surroundings and Viktor is, um, making a final inspection of his suit." In fact, Viktor was intently studying his arms and legs from different angles, like he was scanning every inch of the wonder of himself in the Bearsuit.

Albert pointed to another set of monitors. "These are the skull cams, they are on top of the Bearsuit for a full range of vision. We are in control of them, and can use them to see things Viktor and Boris can't."

Albion remembered a profile he had once read of Bearman. He recited in an awed voice. "As many villains have discovered a second too late, Bearman seems to have a supernatural awareness of his surroundings." Albion still had a copy of that profile somewhere, and now he knew how Bearman did it.

"Exactly." Said Albert. "These buttons control the skull-cams." Albert turned Viktor's camera so it faced backwards. There was nothing to see at the moment, because Viktor was taking a break leaning against a tree, so Albert showed Albion how to turn the camera to the side.

As Albion moved the cameras around he recognized the houses in the area, and when he looked at the big map he realized exactly where Viktor and Boris where.

"What are they doing there?" Albion asked. The neighborhood they were watching was a safe, some would say boring, neighborhood. Some of Albion and Viktor's friends from school lived there.

Albert explained: "We have information that a newly discovered villain known as The Creep has been operating in this neighborhood for the past few weeks, and tonight we are going to nip his criminal career in the bud."

"The Creep?" Albion asked. "I've never heard of him."

"Sit down." Albert said, and indicated a chair by the computer. "And look up The Creep in the villain browser."

When Albion looked nonplussed, Albert directed his attention to a computer at the other end of the room. Albion scooted over and saw that there was a program already running, and in the middle of the screen was a query box with the text: "Search for Villain."

Albert put a hand on the screen and said proudly. "This contains all known information about all known villains in the whole world. Their powers, weaknesses, hobbies and associates. All the information a hero needs we can provide at almost instant speed."

Albion was now paying close attention. Albert felt it was a good time to add a comment of a general nature, regarding his occupation. "You see, Albion, there is a lot more to being a butler than dusting off the carpets."

Monday - part III

Excitedly, Albion entered The Creep's name into the villain browser and pressed enter. Fields and tables with information filled the screen.

"Got him!" Albion soon said.

"Good." Said Albert. "Now study. Rule number one: Know your villain."

Albion clicked around the pages of information that had appeared. Operating the villain browser had been easy enough, but absorbing all the information would take time. Meanwhile, The Creep might strike at any moment. Albion felt the excitement and sense of danger he felt when they had a test at school. Not an entirely bad feeling because it was accompanied by the confidence that he could do the task before him. He let Albert know when he had skimmed the file and formed an overview of the most important information.

"Good." Said Albert. "Now let Boris and Viktor know what you have discovered." Albert pressed the key which enabled the control room to communicate directly with the bearsuits.

"Bearman, Bearboy. Are you there?" Albion said. "I mean, this is home base calling. Over."

"Home base, this is Bearboy. We are still keeping an eye out for villains. Over."

"Viktor, listen to this." Albion said. "I mean Bearboy. Anyway, be careful because it turns out The Creep lives up to his name: Several people have seen a masked man staring into their houses at night. They wake up to get a glass of milk or something and then they see him squeezed up against the window, just watching. Like he had been waiting for them to wake up. But when they try to call the police they realize their phones are missing. Even though they kept them right by the bed. He'd been inside and stolen their phones!"

"Whoa, that's super creepy." Viktor agreed.

"The good news." Said Albion. "Is that The Creep has no known powers except turning up when he is least wanted and disappearing before the police arrives. But if you can catch him, he should be easy to defeat."

"Very good, Albion." Said Boris. "Now Viktor, we will release the Flying Bears."

"The Flying Bears?" Viktor and Albion asked at the same time, both realizing there was still much they didn't know, or even suspected, about Bearman.

"The Flying Bears." Repeated Boris. "They will scan the neighborhood for villainous activity."

Boris showed Viktor how to release the squadron of small drones from the Bearsuit. Through Viktor's snout-cam Albion saw the tiny machines take to the sky.

"Look at the map." Said Albert, and Albion saw an irregular circle of dots expand and spread into multiple patrols around Boris and Viktor's location. Most of the dots were green but some were yellow and had a small number appearing beside them. On other monitors pictures then appeared, labeled with these numbers. Albert Explained "These are pictures taken by the flying bears, of potentially interesting objects or persons in the area."

Albion saw that number one was a dog, number two was a small man with long white hair walking behind the dog, holding a leash and a plastic bag with a small lump in it. He looked at the rest of the pictures too, but they were as innocuous as the first.

"There's nothing." Said Albion. "No sign of The Creep anywhere. Now what?"

Boris answered. "Now we wait." Then Boris and Viktor both sat down against a tree and Boris opened a box of snacks he had brought along for such an occasion.

Albion looked questioningly at Albert, who just nodded. "This is our time to work." Albert said. "Keep your eyes on the screens and stay alert. If anything suspicious happens here tonight we shall have a heads up, and therefore so shall Bearman and Bearboy."

Monday - part IV

Albion and Albert studied the map and the monitors for perhaps half an hour, to the sound of nothing but Boris and Viktor munching on their snacks. Then Albion spotted a green dot representing a flying bear turn yellow right outside a house. The dot had the number one hundred and fifty-seven and Albion looked at the corresponding picture on the screen. He gave a small cry of excitement.

"Hey, Dad. A masked man who just left this house is staring in through the living room window." It had to be The Creep. Somehow he had avoided the Flying Bears on his way inside, but now they had him.

Albert quickly nodded, then spoke into the microphone. "Boris, we have spotted the target. I will transmit his location to you."

"Look." Albion said. "The masked man is knocking on the window. He wants the people inside to wake up to see him." It was definitely The Creep.

On the monitors, Albion saw Viktor and Boris stampeding towards the target. Taking every advantage of the superhuman speed and strength provided by the Bearsuits they vaulted hedges and pools, crossed entire properties in the blink of an eye. They were soon moving so fast that by the time a spectator had rubbed his eyes in disbelief of seeing two bears charging across his yard, they would already be gone.

"Steady now." Boris said as they reached the house neighboring to where The Creep was plying his trade. "Viktor, get the webgun ready, just like I showed you earlier."

Through Boris' snout-cam, Albion saw how Viktor carefully, almost reverentially, released a large gun with a thick barrel from its holster on his back. At the sight of the sleek weapon Albion felt a pang of longing for being there in the middle of the action himself, instead of being stuck in the control room. There was something irresistibly heroic about enveloping a villain in the web of justice. It was the pinnacle of the dreams he and Viktor had shared on many late nights. That bears did not normally make webs was a detail that would only make villains more surprised when they were caught in such anyway. So as Viktor drew the webgun, Albion could almost feel the righteous weight of it in his own hands.

"The Creep is still staring through the window." Albert informed the Boris and Viktor. "Ten o'clock when you cross the hedge. Viktor, you will have a clear shot."

"We go over at the same time, Viktor. We know that he is a slippery scoundrel, so I will run to block his escape. You take two seconds to aim the webgun, no more and no less, and then give him your best shot. Understand?"

Viktor nodded. Albion leaned closer to the monitors. No one was asking him to do anything yet his hands had suddenly turned sweaty. He thought of how Viktor must feel and in that moment was glad not to have two only seconds and one shot for justice when any mistake might mean a villain on the loose to creep out more people.

"On my mark." Boris said. "Go!"

They vaulted the hedge. Holding his breath, Albion saw Viktor land and find his footing while Boris continued ahead, running fast but surprisingly softly to get behind The Creep, who had not even noticed them yet. Not only was Bearman fast and strong, but his sound dampening paws made him deadly quiet, too.

Viktor raised the webgun at the masked figure pressed against the window. Everything was so silent that Albion heard the click of the trigger and the louder release of the projectile as Viktor sent it spinning towards its target. The Creep heard it too, finally sensing the danger he was in. But he never had a chance to react. He straightened up to listen just as the web unfolded behind him. It caught him square in its center and closed into a tight fist around him, pinning his arms to his sides with a satisfying thud and a muffled yelp as the villain was knocked down and out of breath. The Creep flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water but the harder he fought the tighter the web closed.

When The Creep realized this, what fight was left in him vanished. "I surrender!" He cried desperately.

In the control room Albion jumped up with raised fists. "We got him! We got The Creep!"

Albert put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Well done, Albion. You did well."

Albion glowed with pride, but then he saw Boris and Viktor approaching the creep. Boris was smiling. "Well done, Bearboy!" Boris said, and Viktor seemed to grow two feet taller on the spot. No wonder, Albion thought. Albion knew how he would feel if someone addressed him by a superhero name he had just earned. But he didn't have time to dwell. While Boris and Viktor were preoccupied with securing The Creep, Albion noticed a small figure emerging behind the window The Creep had ben peering into.

"Someone is here!" Albion called, and at the same moment a shaggy little dog jumped against the glass with open mouth, panting exuberantly. Viktor Boris looked up, and now all of them saw the figure behind the dog. It was an elderly woman in pyjamas, offended at finding three strange men in costumes fighting in her back yard.

"Dad." Albion said. "I think I know that woman. I think it's Maria's grandmother. Maria from school."

Albert studied the camera. "It's a small world." He then connected to the Bearsuits: "We have a civilian on the scene."

Boris replied. "Quite right." He added in a whisper. "Now it's time for phase two of a superhero's duty, Bearboy, receiving the gratitude of the public."

Albion, who until then had stayed standing from sheer excitement, sat down again. He was pretty sure the public never expressed its gratitude to the superhero's butler.

Monday - part V

"From now on we go incognito." Boris said. "That means secret identities only."

Viktor nodded happily while the glass door to the house slid open and the small brown dog bounced outside. It was followed by concerned calls from the small, elderly woman in her pajamas. She pursued her dog outside and caught up to it when it stopped to lick The Creep on the nose.

"Easy, Rocky. Good boy." She commanded, and the dog turned its head towards her, tongue still out, licking the air. She scratched it behind the ear. "You didn't hurt anyone before mama got here, now did you? Good dog!" She then turned to the strangers in her yard. "He can get very protective, you have been warned." As she explained this, Rocky resumed licking The Creep's face affectionately.

A red-haired girl of about Viktor and Albion's age appeared in the doorway. "What's going on, Granma?" She was accompanied by a tall, lanky man with hair even redder than hers. They were both as thin and round-faced as the older woman, and Albion assumed the older women had once been as red-headed and freckled as them.

Viktor waved at the girl. She waved uncertainly back.

"Yes that's Maria from school." Albion said. "But remember that you're incognito."

"Right." Viktor whispered and let his arm drop.

"Everything alright, Mom? What's happening?" The read-haired man asked. "What is Bearman doing in our backyard and who is that creep?" He pointed to the masked man on the ground.

Before anyone could answer, his daughter took over asking the questions. "Who is the small Bearman? Is that a new superhero? Because if it is, that's a scoop. Dad, I will get my equipment."

She was gone before Viktor could even explain that his name was Bearboy.

"Oh that's right, Maria's dad is a journalist." Albion said. In fact, Maria's dad, Lewis O'Malley, was known for his critical pen. It didn't much matter what the subject matter was, Boris joked, O'Malley would find something wrong with it. He would even criticize The Mayor. Now Lewis smiled at Viktor. "I see Bring Your Child to Work Week has reached all the way into the depths of the Bearcave. You're brave, catching villains is dangerous work for a child."

Viktor beamed proudly, but Boris sensed that criticism of his parenting was implied. He answered. "As you can see, O'Malley, we have selected a particularly toothless villain for tonight's exercise. An infant could catch this man between diaper changes."

"That's harsh, Dad." Viktor whispered into his microphone, low enough that the civilians couldn't hear. Albion nodded in agreement. The Creep himself moaned in an offended way, though it was possible he just wanted Rocky to stop licking his nose. If so, he was disappointed.

Lewis ignored The Creep and he looked straight at Boris, with just a hint of mockery in his otherwise friendly smile. "So the illustrious Bearman knows my name. Listen, I don't want to give you a hard time. I couldn't imagine telling Maria not come to work with me this week, it's all she's been talking about for a while. She has a hunger for the truth, that one. Speaking of which, what exactly happened here?"

"I can tell you that, son." Said Grandma O'Malley. "This creep was peeping in at your old mother in the dead of night, he was. Didn't know what was good for him, it was only thanks to these nice boys that Rocky didn't bite his ears off."

The creep emitted another moan, muffled by an affectionate swipe of Rocky's tongue. "Get this creature off me!" He protested.

"Rocky, down!" Grandma O'Malley cried. "Leave something for the law to throw in jail." Rocky looked expectantly up at his owner. He stopped licking and started prancing around The Creep instead, drooling all the way and stopping to smell The Creep's feet.

Feeling something humid in his socks, The Creep pleaded desperately. "Is it peeing in my shoes? Why are you making it do this? These are my best sneaking shoes, this is unnecessarily humiliating. I'm sorry for what I've done, is that what you want? You want a confession? I confess! First bears and now this dog. Please, old lady, have mercy and call the police instead."

"That's a sentiment I can agree with." Said Lewis. "Getting the proper authorities involved."

Again, Boris heard a slight implied, and he grew hot under the bearsuit.

"Albert, I could use a little help here." Boris whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Some cutting dialogue to shut O'Malley up."

"I shall try to think of something immediately, sir." Albert replied.

At the same time Maria O'Malley returned, looking puzzled. "I can't find my phone, Dad. Could you try calling it?"

"Alright." Lewis O'Malley said. "Let me get my phone out." He padded his pockets one by one, then frowned.

Albion nudged Albert in the ribs. "The phones are gone because The Creep has stolen them. That's what he does."

Albert cleared his throat. "Sir, I believe you might find certain items of significance to the O'Malleys in The Creep's possession. Recovering these stolen goods might regain you the upper hand."

"Oh that would be brilliant, Albert. Thank you, that's exactly what I need."

Confidently and benevolently, Boris declared. "Here, Lewis. Allow me." And he bent over The Creep and from his pockets fished out three phones that were quickly recognized as rightfully belonging to the O'Malleys.

Lewis smiled uncomfortably. "Thank you, Bearman. I gather this creep must have entered our house while we were sleeping. I can't say I enjoy the thought of that." He looked with concern at his daughter, suggesting her reaction was what worried him the most.

Maria did not seem overly concerned with the violation of the sanctity of their home. She even grew rather excited. "So he's not just a creep, but a burglar too. That makes the story more dramatic, right Dad? When we expose the villain's true identity." Maria immediately bent down and reached for The Creep's mask.

"It will be my second scoop tonight. I have discovered a new hero discovered and unmasked a villain." Maria explained this matter-of-factly as she tore off the mask off.

Albion almost felt bad for The Creep. He didn't have any superpowers to brag about. In fact, Albion guessed Boris was right that he was not a very dangerous villain. Without his mask he looked more like a sad, common criminal than a villain. Actually, Albion thought, he looked very much like the local pretzel stand owner, Mr. Gummil.

"Blimey, it's Mr. Gummil." Said Lewis. "I walked by your pretzel stand outside the mall just this weekend."

"Well this explains why Rocky spared his life." Said Grandma O'Malley. "Rocky just loves pretzels. Smells them a mile away." Rocky barked affirmatively and started licking the parts of the Creep's face that had been covered by the mask, and where there might still be some salty pretzel residue left.

Mr. Gummil grimaced. "Walked by my pretzel strand, yes, you walked right by! But did you buy any pretzels? No, no you didn't! Did you at least say hello? No! No-one ever does, and I tell you, there is nothing lonelier on this earth than a pretzel stand without customers." Here The Creep was overcome with emotion and stopped talking. Because nobody felt there had been any point to his story and because everyone was therefore expecting him to go on, an awkward silence fell. That only grew worse when The Creep instead of explaining further, collapsed into heartbroken sobs, no longer even trying to avoid Rocky's affectionate slurping all over his face.

"That's enough, Gummil." Boris finally said. "Save it for the judge. The law should be here soon enough."

"Dad?" Said Viktor. "I know he isn't much but he's still kind of a villain isn't he? He was wearing a mask and everything. Can't we bring him back to The Bearcave?"

Boris shook his head. "That is not necessary since he has no special powers. The police can handle him. He's hardly even _The_ Creep, more like _a_ creep."

"On the other hand." Maria said. "The Creep does sound more dramatic. I think we should go with that, at least officially."

Viktor agreed. "Definitely. And I think we should get a press photo with me and the villain. Maybe with his mask on. He looks better that way. Um, no offense intended, Mr. Gummil."

Boris scowled at him. "Don't start dressing up Mr. Gummil for your amusement. He's a criminal, not a mannequin. And we're not here to show off and take pictures." He stopped. "Wait, why is he wearing the mask again?"

"He must've put in on himself." Maria said, innocently standing next to Mr. Gummil. "Please Mr. Bearman. Allow us to take a picture for my article. It will make our readers feel safe to know that they have a new hero to protect them."

"You always say it's important to win people's trust." Said Viktor, and when even Lewis didn't offer any snide remarks to deter the photograph, Boris finally relented. Maria and Viktor were thrilled. They arranged the scene and was just about ready to fire when a siren flashed outside the O'Malley house, signaling the long-awaited arrival of the law.

Monday - part VI

The Captain police herself had arrived. She was a large, middle-aged woman in full uniform, with buttons and medals that shone like they had been polished that same night, making Albion wonder if The Captain also had a butler. She was in the company of two uniformed officers and two young boys, whose thick blonde hair and angular faces resembled The Captain's. The boys looked a few years younger than Albion and Viktor and were bouncing along excitedly behind their mother as if they were arriving at a fairground and not a crime scene.

"How did The Captain know to come here?" Albion asked.

"Well." Said Albert. "It's standard protocol for The Captain to personally handle heroic arrests. That is, when a hero arrests a villain. I informed her as soon as we located The Creep. I'll show you how to do that later, when things are not quite so hectic as now."

Viktor, meanwhile, was suggesting to Boris that they should now arrange a picture with both the villain and The Captain in it. He stopped talking as The Captain reached them with long, confident, strides. She was looking over at The Creep and shaking her head.

"You just had to apprehend the Peeping Burglar on a Monday night, didn't you?" She asked Boris, and sighed. "Couldn't you at least have bundled him up with some more notorious villain? Not that I don't appreciate the help, but when I bring out old faithful here." She patted her uniform. "I like it to be for a grand occasion." It was clear she was not overly impressed with the night's catch.

Boris looked confused. "Did you say The Peeping Burglar? We thought he was The Creep."

The Captain's face darkened. "That's just what we need, a bureaucratic mix-up. She raised her voice. "Officer Jackson, find out what villain we're dealing with here!"

One of the other officers went to interrogate The Creep, take his fingerprints and hair samples. The Captain's kids followed him over there and whenever the officer looked away they prodded the villain with a stick they had found in the yard. The Captain drew in a sharp breath. "Kids, how many times do I have to tell you to leave the criminals alone?" The kids withdrew a few steps when they heard their mother's voice. But Albion noticed they still held on to the stick.

The officer completed his investigation. "He fits the description, Captain. It's The Peeping Burglar."

"Well, Boris said, he fits our description too." In an aside he whispered into his microphone. "He does, doesn't he? Tell me we got the right guy."

Albion frantically searched the results from the villain browser. "Yes!" He cried. "It says under alternate identities that The Creep is also known as The Peeping Burglar or Weird Masked Guy."

Boris related this to The Captain.

"I see." She said. "We've been calling him The Peeping Burglar down at the station, but I suppose Crime has many names. Well, let's book him at get home."

But when The Captain tried to take her leave, Maria jumped in and stuck her phone in front of her like a microphone. "Captain! A few questions. First, what do you say to the allegations that the police labels common criminals as villains to get superheroes to arrest them?"

The Captain studied Maria's face. Then she looked around and found Lewis O'Malley. "Ah." She said. "Of all the houses this miscreant could have burgled, he had to choose yours. And I see you have been feeding your daughter loaded questions."

"I haven't fed her anything but coffee and donuts, a reporter's diet. But she's a quick learner."

The Captain turned back to Maria with a strained smile. "Young lady, this city is kept safe by the hardworking men and women of the police department with the help of all concerned citizens. The capture of this dangerous villain is a testament to the success and professionalism of our team-work." The Captain spoke in an official voice, and Viktor beamed proudly at her words, but as soon as she had answered the question her voice changed and rose to new heights. "Tom and Lee, I see the way you're looking at that dog, and I dare you, I DARE YOU, to act on it."

Grandma O'Malley, picked up Rocky and clutched him tight. "Oh, those boys are just frightened of him, isn't that right, Rocky?" She nuzzled the dog. "But don't worry, Captain, I will restrain him for their safety."

"Thank you madam." Boris said politely. "And thank you, Captain for that rousing speech. Actually, Bearboy here was just talking about illustrating the good relationship between us with a photograph..."

Viktor didn't need further encouragement. "Right over here." He called, and he even pulled Grandma O'Malley and Rocky into the picture, in such a way that it would still be possible to make out The Creep lying guiltily in the background. Viktor flashed his big boy smile, wide and radiant, and then his second selfie of the week was accomplished.

Monday - part VII

Back in the Bearcave, Albion decided it was time for him to expend his first selfie, too. All day he had done butlery stuff he would rather not remember, but now he had helped to catch a villain. Even though he was not Bearboy, he had helped. And though The Creep was not exactly a super villain, even if Maria was right that he was a just criminal the police were too lazy to catch themselves, he had still been a menace to society. It would be good to have a reminder that Albion had helped put a stop to that, in case Viktor started forgetting. But when Albion got his phone out Albert coughed discreetly. It was a cough Albion knew well. One that meant an objection was about to follow.

"But Dad, Viktor gets to be in pictures all the time."

"Yes, but he is in disguise and you are not. And what reason would Boris Bjorn's butler's son have to be in a secret control room full of superhero-assistance computers? If anyone saw that picture and connected the dots, our cover would be blown and we would be in great danger. I'm sorry Albion, but it is among a butler's foremost duties to be discreet."

Albion sighed. It just figured that it was among a butler's foremost duties to not even enjoy the small pleasures in life. Albion put his phone away and returned to watching the screens. Maria was interviewing The Captain again.

"Captain, we all know that the city jails are crowded. But is it true the jails are now so full you have to release a prisoner for every new arrest?"

"I can assure you our hospitality towards the more misguided elements of society is more than ample. I'm confident we will find room for everyone." The Captain answered.

"Have you put off arresting this burglar yourself because you were waiting for a free cell to put him in?"

"Absolutely not. We work our hardest to bring all criminals to justice, without delay."

"Is it true that money from this year's City Hall Charity Ball will be funneled towards the construction of new prisons?"

Albion knew Boris would not like this. He never liked it when people impugned The Mayor's motives. The Captain didn't like it either, she shot a piercing look at Lewis O'Malley before turning back to his daughter.

"Maria, that's your name, right? I am here to arrest The Peeping Burglar, and I cannot at this time comment on other matters, such as The City Hall Charity Ball, except to encourage everyone to chip in and contribute to what I'm sure will be a worthy cause. Thank you very much, this interview is over. BOYS, NO! THIS IS NEITHER THE TIME NOR THE PLACE."

Her two sons had stripped down to their underwear and were halfway submerged in Grandma O'Malley's fish pond, playing at chasing criminal fish and poking them with their stick.

"I swear, this week will be the end of me." The Captain sighed, while the two uniformed police officers disentangled Mr. Gummil from the web, and put him in handcuffs instead.

"Did you know," Lewis O'Malley said confidentially to The Captain, "that Bring Your Child to Work Week was forced upon The Mayor by the teacher's union? Parents don't understand how hard it is to get any work done around their children, so the teachers wanted to teach the parents a lesson for a change."

The Captain shook her head. "Teachers. They probably think we pay them to instruct our children in geography and spelling. Ha!" But, you know, I heard they just saw a chance for an extra week of vacation. I can't say I blame them." She said, looking hopelessly at her boys.

"For myself the week is going great." Lewis said. "At this rate I don't have to do any work myself this week." He looked proudly at Maria. "She's really taking to the job."

"But, for heaven's sake, Lewis. Can't you tell her to slow down? She's exhausting."

"The thing is," said Lewis philophically, "when you've taught children to question authority, how can you tell them to stop again? I mean, what power will you invoke?"

"Fear, Lewis." Said The Captain. "That's what I find works." And because her sons had just then disappeared into the O'Malley House, she began yelling again. "BOYS, IF YOU DON'T COME OUT OF THAT HOUSE RIGHT NOW I SWEAR YOU WILL SPEND THE REST OF THE NIGHT IN JAILL WITH THIS CREEP RIGHT HERE."

They came back out immediately. "Oh really, Mom? Can we, please?"

"If only it were legal." The Captain mumbled. Then she thanked Bearman and Bearboy again and took off.

"We should go too, Bearboy." Boris said. "It was good for you to meet The Captain and see how we all work together. Because despite what some people think," here Boris looked at Lewis, "we're not vigilantes." He looked back at Viktor. "Is that clear?"

Viktor nodded eagerly. "Crystal clear. We're heroes."

"Good." Boris said. "Now let's go."

But Maria jumped in front of them, putting her phone in their way. "Actually, I would like to ask Bearboy a few questions."

"Absolutely." Said Viktor quickly, without as much as looking at Boris, who had been about to decline. "Bearboy at your service."

Boris gently pulled Viktor away. "Not tonight, I'm afraid." Said Boris. "I think it's far past both of your bedtimes now."

Looking through the cameras it was hard for Albion to tell if Maria or Viktor was most disappointed, but disappointment rarely lasted long with Viktor and this was no exception.

"Bearman is right." Viktor said. "We need more time for an in-depth interview. Write to me at bearboy@hero.org, that's my email."

Albert coughed discreetly and Boris groaned, but it they were both too late. Boris grabbed Viktor and dragged him out of there by the arm.

Albion couldn't help but admire Viktor's foresight, but it was clear Boris was not impressed. Albion heard him dressing down Viktor, his incredulity and anger only growing as Viktor tried to explain himself. "You created social media profiles for Bearboy without asking my permission? Viktor, what were you thinking?"

"That it is my duty to introduce the people to Bearboy." Said the boy who one day earlier had just been Albion's best friend, Viktor, but who now appeared to have bigger plans for the future.

Tuesday

Tuesday Monday, the sun was gently rising and the mansion was quiet. Boris Bjorn sat in his favorite room, the drawing room, in his favorite chair, a king-size leather seat that would have made most people appear small, but which accommodated Boris' perfectly. Even when not wearing the Bearsuit Boris was half-man, half-bear. He had thick brown hair on his brow and arms, nearly as dense and curly as that on his head, and which made him look even larger than he was. Underneath that furry exterior shone a pair of melancholic brown eyes like wet chestnuts glistening in the sun. That morning he was alone and seemed lost in his thoughts when Albert knocked politely on the open door before stepping in to inform Boris there was still no sign of the boys downstairs. Boris shook his head with a slight smile. Albert raised an eyebrow.

Albert was very tall, and next to Boris he looked almost frail, in the inscrutable way of some strange, dignified bird. To first-time visitors at Bjorn Manor Albert could appear almost alien. A leftover butler from the time of lords and empires, like birds were left over from the age of dinosaurs. But if visitors sometimes gawked, none of them had ever known Albert to take offense.

"What shall we do with those kids, Albert?" Boris asked.

Albert bowed his head. "I wish I knew, Sir, but I don't. I wish to remark, however, that although Albion is in many ways a very lucky boy, I'm afraid he's also an ungrateful one in some ways. Though far from unredeemable, I hope. It is merely his lack of experience and perspective that sometimes get the better of him. For example, when he showed no interest in working with me yesterday, it was simply a result of not understanding that proper organization at home is our first advantage over our adversaries. I suppose I am to blame for not having taught him. So we must not take it to heart, Sir, he just doesn't know better yet."

"Hah! That's just what I was thinking about Viktor." Said Boris. "I can't believe he set up an email account for Bearboy. He's actually trying to start his own fanclub. Astounding! All the more so because if ever a boy would let fame get to his head it's Viktor."

Albert nodded. "Sir, perhaps we have rushed them into responsibilities they are not ready for?"

Boris seemed to consider this, then nodded solemnly.

Albert continued. "We can hardly let such a state of affairs go on."

"Why, certainly not, Albert! We mustn't. We must put a stop to it immediately. Transfer them to new jobs, something more manageable."

"Might I suggest, sir, that Bring Your Child To Work week would be an excellent opportunity for the two young men to learn the art of copying business expense reports?"

Boris nodded. "A highly important skill for the office. And to prevent them from growing restless in the evening now that they will not be fighting crime, we should make sure they spent their leisure time catching up on the homework they would have received at school this week."

Albert agreed. He walked solemnly across the room and stopped in front of a large and crudely executed painting of a group of children flanked by two stern-looking women. Albert studied these faces intently. Boris saw what he was doing and sighed. "Ah, the orphanage. Where we learned discipline and thrift and grew up to be the men we are today."

Albert looked back at Boris.

"Are we making the boys soft, Sir? Are we robbing them of the opportunity we had to fend for ourselves and earn our survival?"

Scratching his beard, Boris said. "Albert, I believe we are. In fact, this summer I think it's time we did them a favor they will look back on many years from now with gratitude. Let's give them a chance to experience the orphanage first hand for a few months."

"Yes, sir. Later they shall thank us. Many, many years later."

Albert produced a small brush and wiped off a speck of dust on the bronze frame of the picture.

"Very well." Said Boris with a quiver in his voice, as if he was straining to keep his emotions under control. "It is for the best, though I shall miss them so while they're gone."

Albert put the brush away. "Quite right Sir. Shall I let them know of your decision?"

"By all means, Albert. Let's not beat around the bush."

Albert firmly grabbed the picture of the orphaned children with both hands and pulled on it forcefully while turning it completely on its side, as if it were a large, golden handle. Contrary to what one might expect this did not cause the picture to dislodge from the wall, it caused an entire section of wall to dislodge from the rest and open up into one of the secret corridors that crisscrossed Bjorn Manor. From out this particular corridor tumbled Viktor and Albion, still in their pajamas, and looking outraged.

Viktor spoke first, even before he was back on his feet. "Seriously, Dad. You can't be serious. You're going to send us to live in an orphanage just because I have an email address. Wake up and smell the twenty-first century."

Albion produced an expression of great earnestness. "Honestly, Dad. I think you misunderstood me." He said. "I was just so overwhelmed by all the details that it may have seemed like I wasn't paying close attention to all of them."

With his usual precise movements, Albert closed the door to the secret passageway and returned the painting of the orphanage to its proper orientation. Then he placed himself next to Boris, who cut both boys' protests off. "I hear much talking yet no apologies for eavesdropping." He leaned forward in his chair, and motioned the boys forward.

So close to their sons, it was obvious that each man had passed his share of his own physical characteristics on to the next generation. There was no doubt who belonged to whom. Though the boys were roughly the same height, Viktor was a large boy and Albion was not, though they were roughly the same height. However, Viktor and Albion did look more alike than Boris and Albert did, though this might just be an effect of the glow of youth, or an effect of the nearly identical expressions of humble apology the boys were now wearing.

"We're sorry." Said Albion. "We were only eavesdropping because we were hoping to hear which villains we were going to catch tonight."

"Yeah, we're really sorry. We just couldn't wait to help you some more with your work." Said Viktor.

The boys looked hopefully up, but when they saw their fathers' expressions they hung their heads again.

They stood like that for a full, painful minute, until Boris suddenly laughed.

"You should see yourselves." Boris said. "If Bjorn Corporation had to rely on you two to win our customers' trust we would all need to hide in the passageways, to avoid our creditors. But alright, we are teasing you, which serves you right for trying to fool us old men. Sneakier villains than you have tried the same and failed, by the way. And if you wish to learn our secrets, you should just pay more attention while we're trying to tell you about them."

"Yes Dad."

"Yes Mr. Bjorn."

"Very good. Because we have another busy day ahead of us. It may not be what you hope for, but I think we've more or less covered how you should react when receiving instructions."

Viktor and Albion exchanged glances, then nodded with relief. Though the orphanage had turned out to be an idle threat, it had felt real for a moment and that fright was enough to motivate them to dutiful behavior at least through breakfast.

"Excellent." Said Albert. "Now I believe we should all fill our stomachs."

Tuesday - part II

As usual, Alfred brought the breakfast up from the kitchen and Viktor and Albion immediately began wolfing down their honey-porridge heated just right, eating as if they were stocking up for the winter. When their plates were empty, they cast expectant looks at Boris, who was patting a stomach full of salmon toast, his personal favorite. He burped with satisfaction.

"Are you boys interested in hearing what we have planned for you today?" They declared in earnest that they were. "Well, then. Viktor, it seems you have taken an interest in public relations?"

"Oh yes, Dad. I think it's very important that people to know who we are so they can trust us."

"Right." Boris said. "Today you will work in the public relations department of Bjorn Industries."

Viktor liked this, many pleasant ideas entered his head. "I would be good at marketing. I could show how Bjorn mountain boots keep your feet dry. I could stand in a puddle of water and jump up and down and then prove that my socks are still dry. I could be a model, too. You could take a picture of me sleeping in a Bjorn Hibernation tent to show how comfortable I am. I would have to be really comfortable, though." Viktor put on his big boy smile, to show the talents he would bring to the role of company mascot.

"Well, that was not exactly what I had in mind." Said Boris. "I was thinking of the customer service department."

"Salesmanship and charm, then." Viktor said, and flashed a new version of his big boy smile, modified for maximum trustworthiness, to show off the talents he would bring to the role of salesman of the year.

"Actually, I want someone to answer customer complaints."

Viktor looked confused. "Because you think no one can stay mad at me for long?" Viktor flashed a final, more uncertain, big boy smile, in case Boris had not been paying attention before.

"We'll see about that." Boris said. "Either way, this will be an excellent chance to get into the mind of the customer. Make good use of this experience and it shall serve you well." Boris smiled.

Now Albert cleared his throat. "Albion, I bet you would like to hear what we have in store for you?"

Albion swallowed. Considering Viktor's new job he guessed it would be something very butlery. But he had come to expect that, he was prepared to dust off pictures of orphanages all afternoon.

"As you may know." Said Albert. "News travel fast in this city. Thanks to our success last night and Maria O'Malley's live reporting of the arrest of The Creep, Bearboy has already become something of a celebrity."

Viktor and Albion both listened very intently to this, Viktor was fumbling for his phone to read everything people were saying about him.

Albert continued. "We considered ignoring this, because of the distraction such attention can cause an impressionable young person."

Viktor momentarily stopped fiddling with his phone. "But then you changed your minds?"

"Yes." Boris replied. "We realized that while the attention would surely go to _your_ head it would not affect Albion the same way."

Albert took over again. "Meanwhile, Albion, it seems that the daily work of a butler has not kindled your interest. So we thought you would might find it more interesting to respond to all the messages people are already sending Bearboy."

"But Dad..." Albion didn't know how to finish. Viktor was his best friend, but the last thing he wanted was to spend all day reading letters about how great Viktor was as Bearboy. He felt like he now had the choice between being Viktor's butler or the president of his fanclub.

Albert said: "This will be a chance for you to get into people's heads too, to study the psychology of the public."

"Oh yes." Said Boris encouragingly. "You will definitely get your fair share of weirdoes, just like Viktor. Never fear."

Albion felt overwhelmed. "If I have to read messages from Viktor's fans all day, I think I will go mad."

"It won't be Viktor's fans." Albert replied. "It will be Bearboy's fans. And you won't have to just read them. You will reply to them too though I will help you, at least to begin with."

Viktor looked at Albert as if he had just realized how crazy this whole idea was. "Wait a minute." Viktor said. "How can Albion reply to Bearboy's emails when I am Bearboy?"

Boris corrected him. "You may be inside the Bearsuit, but Bearboy is bigger than his suit. And while you did a great job in the field I am not sure you are level-headed enough for this particular mission. Let's see you handle dissatisfied customer's first. For now you will be Bearboy's body but Albion will be his voice. That's what's best for Bearboy."

Albion could tell Viktor was as furious as he was. But he was surprised that Viktor seemed angry at him, as if he had anything to do with planning this, or even wanted it. Albion tried to communicate to Viktor that they were on the same side, but Viktor scowled at him without understanding.

Bring Your Child to Work Week was just getting worse and worse. Albion had only been to work for one day and already he had lost his dream of being Bearboy and now he might lose his best friend too. If this was what being an adult was like, then Albion did not look forward to becoming one.

Tuesday \- part III

Albion wanted to explain to Viktor that answering other people's fan mail was not exactly his dream job. That as far as Albion was concerned Viktor was more than welcome to answer his own mail. Their father's wouldn't even have to know, Albion would just look the other way and read comic books all day while Viktor wrote whatever he pleased. But Viktor didn't want to hear it, he didn't even want a second helping of honey-porridge, he just stormed off to his room, jumped into his work uniform and then rushed out of the door car without so much as a word to Albion.

Boris misattributed Viktor's eagerness to leave with enthusiasm for work and was happy. "You will go far with that can-do attitude." He said.

Albion watched from his room as they drove off. Then he trudged downstairs. "I will get the duster, Dad." He sighed. "We can dust off the pictures in the drawing room and the books in the library until lunch, then I can reply to Viktor's fanmail." As incredible as it seemed, he had actually found something he wanted to do less than brushing dust off old books.

"A reasonable plan." Said Albert. "But, before we make a plan for the day we should acquire an overview of the magnitude of each task, remember? Just like yesterday"

"OK." Said Albion. "I will count the books and estimate the dust thickness."

"Hold on. First we check in with the staff." Albert explained. "We talk to Mr. Slothers about the garden, Ms. Loo about the kitchen and Ms. Pludgewater about the cleaning schedule. Then we see how we can assist or direct each in their work. Only then do we count how many books need dusting."

"Why don't we also check how many fan-letters Bearboy has received?" Albion asked sarcastically.

"Excellent idea!" Albert produced a laptop and logged in.

"Well, this can't be right." He said, frowning.

Albion had a look. "This is the account Viktor told us about."

"But there are too many letters. Surely this is a mistake." Albert exclaimed.

"Let me check something, Dad." Said Albion. He pulled the computer in front of him while Albert was still scratching his chin, and typed in the address for Maria's Dad's newspaper.

"Look at this, Dad. This is the O'Malley Report, by Maria O'Malley. It was published last night with the headline Bearboy is Your New Superhero: Ask Him Anything. Was this what you meant when you said Bearboy was getting famous?"

"Well I didn't realize people would've had time to write yet. Doesn't anyone sleep at night? Or perhaps it is precisely those who can't sleep who have nothing else to do than write to Bearboy. Either way, it seems a new plan is called for." Albert closed his eyes briefly to think. "Why don't you have a look at these letters and formulate a few answers while I talk with the staff. When I come back we can discuss your suggestions before we send them off. What do you say to that?"

Having the letters right in front of him was making Albion curios. He wanted to know who these people were and what they wanted from Bearboy. "Alright, Dad, good plan."

"Excellent. Keep in mind that we want to give as little information as possible. Be friendly but don't tell them anything." When Albion looked uncertain, Albert smiled encouragingly. "You'll figure it out."

Albion considered the hundreds of messages on the computer. Several more had arrived just while they were talking. The work would be never-ending. He opened the first message:

_Dear Bearboy,_

You're my hero! I'm seven years old and when I grow up I want to be just like you. Can I be president of your fanclub? If you say yes my Mom will help me. Please say yes.

Yours sincerely,  
Martin Dipswidth

"Well that's easy." Thought Albion. "Yes Martin. You can start immediately and your first job will be to answer the rest of these letters." But he didn't write that. Instead he wrote something he thought Albert would like:

Dear Martin,

Thank you for your letter. I'm proud to have a dedicated fan like you, but my fans are like the Knights of the Round Table, everyone is equal so we don't have a president. You can certainly be one of us, though, we'd be proud to have you.

Yours sincerely,

Bearboy

Albion felt a pang of guilt for lying through his teeth to a seven-ear-old. If Martin ever found out Albion was not even Bearboy it would be his fault if Martin lost faith in humanity." But when Albion showed his draft to Albert, Albert approved wholeheartedly.

"I knew you were just the person for this, Albion. Well done!"

"But Dad, I'm an imposter."

"No more than Boris is."

"Boris brings villains to justice, I'm lying to a seven-year-old kid."

"Now, listen Albion. Bearman is an idea of justice and goodness that Boris embodies when he puts on the Bearsuit. But he's not really Bearman. No one is. Boris has just taken it upon himself to create the idea and act the part. Like you and Viktor are doing with Bearboy. Viktor may be the one wearing the suit but you can help make the idea real." When Albion didn't look convinced Albert paused. "How can I explain?" He thought hard, rummaging his mind for the right image. "OK, you know those donkey costumes with two people inside, Viktor is the front but it's not a donkey without the back, right?"

"So I'm the back end of a donkey? The donkey's butt?"

Albert smiled weakly. "Perhaps it was not the best example." He scoured his mind for another. "Yes, think of a two headed ogre from one of your video games. I'm sure I've seen an ogre with two heads in one of those. But if that ogre only had one head it wouldn't be the same, now would it?"

Albert looked a little outside his area of expertise and Albion wanted to reassure him.

"No Dad, I suppose not. It would only be a normal ogre with one head."

"Yes well, so you understand what I'm saying?"

"I don't know, Dad."

"Well, if you find it hard to understand right now that's alright. Then you will just have to trust me until you see it for yourself. But trust me, you are not an imposter."

"You promise?"

"I do."

Now Albion did feel reassured. Albert might not be a superhero like Viktor's Dad but he did know many things. In fact, there was no single person Albion trusted more in the world to know what was right and what was wrong.

"I will do my best." Albion said, and with determination he returned to the letters.

When Albert strode off with his clipboard with the day's tasks listed, he felt confident that Albion would manage the replies. Albion was a good kid, and smart to boot. So when Albert stopped by later after checking in with the staff, he was surprised to find that Albion had left his work. That was unlike him, although Albert had to admit there had recently been occasions when he couldn't figure out what exactly was going on in his son's head. Albert placed himself at the table and waited. Albion was still only a kid and kids are easily distracted. They don't have the discipline of adults, one had to make allowances for that. Of course, when Albert had been his son's age he would never have neglected his duty. But maybe there were something in the theory that kids today were made of softer stuff, on account of their lives of luxury and leisure. Then again, better that than the orphanage were Albert and Boris had learned self-discipline the hard way. But perhaps that was the only way to learn. But could one not learn it a little slower, one step at a time and arrive at the same result without quite so much hardship? Albert's thoughts swung back and forth like that until Albion finally burst into the room, panting.

"Dad! I've been looking all over for you. I've gone round the whole mansion."

Albert, who was already sitting up straight, sat up straighter. "What's the alarm?"

"Here, take a look at this." Albion pushed the computer in front of Albert. "I wanted you to see it so we can warn Boris and Viktor."

"Hmm, let's have a look. Although, it might be best just to ignore rude messages. Never sink to their level. People can be very mean." Albert said, as he leaned closer to the screen, but his voice trailed off as he started reading. His face turned pale.

"Oh my, you were right to tell me of this, Albion. This is trouble. It may seem a little silly at first glance, but it could not be more serious. We must warn Boris and Viktor immediately."

Albion had thought something was wrong, yet he had sort of expected Albert to tell him he was overreacting and not to worry himself anymore. But Albert seemed almost shaken, which Albion had never seen before. So while Albert alerted Boris and Viktor, Albion read the message once more from the top:

Hello little bear,

I hope you will enjoy my little poem. It was inspired by something ridiculous I just read about in the news. In case you haven't guessed (you're probably not very bright), it was you!

Hello!

Little 'hero' in your funny mask

What is the point of you if I may ask?

Will you fight crime and in justice bask?

Silly little bear, you are not up to the task!

Heroes rise and heroes fall

Heroes fail and villains stand tall

Soon you too shall hear the hooting call

That spells your downfall!

You shall curse and you shall tremble

Your embarrassment shall be monumental

So abandon all hope, justice and chivalry

This world belongs to Mr. Misery!

Welcome to THE STRUGGLE, Bearboy

Sincerely,

Mr. M.

Tuesday - part IV

It was only lunchtime when Boris and Viktor rushed home, but Viktor was already exhausted. It took all his remaining energy just to scowl at Albion.

"Viktor's still learning to listen and let the customers do the complaining." Boris explained. "A few days of training and he'll figure it out." Viktor groaned. Boris smiled, but quickly remembered why they had come home and turned serious again.

"Now, show me this message from Mr. Misery."

Albert handed Boris the laptop.

"That scoundrel!" Boris said, when he had finished reading. "Are we sure this is really from him?"

"It seems authentic enough, Sir, in that sending bad poems to threaten children is right up his alley. Not something many other villains would think of."

"Yes." Boris agreed. "You were right to call me, Albert. This means Mr. Misery has his eyes on us, and that's very bad news indeed."

"What's going on?" Viktor asked. "Who's Mr. Misery? Why do you sound so serious when you talk about him?"

"He's the most elusive villain of them all." Boris explained. "Nobody knows what he looks like or what powers he has, except that a poetic touch is not among them. Countless captured villains have claimed to be doing his bidding, but none has dared say more than that."

"Uh, why do they mention him at all, then?" Viktor asked.

"Because Mr. Misery tells them to and they are too frightened to defy him. He wants the world to know him as the shadow of crime, or crime as his shadow, I can never remember which. Either way, he wants us to know we did not catch the brain behind the crime, only the brawn. In this way he hopes to undermine our triumphs and fortify our worries."

"And now he will send his minions to get me?" Viktor asked. In the ensuing silence he quickly added. "Then I will have countless opportunities to catch more villains from now on. That's great... right?" He looked from Boris to Albert for support. "And just to be clear, it's not only me he's after, is it? I mean he must be busy, running a criminal empire and so on? He will have many other things to do apart from hunting me? Right?"

Boris put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "If Mr. Misery tries to hunt any one of us he will find us all ready to stop him."

Viktor looked relieved, but not completely unconcerned. It was one thing to fight villains committing crimes against other people, but when the criminals were targeting you it felt personal.

"Of course Mr. Misery never gets his own hands dirty." Boris said. "We'll be lucky to catch a glimpse of him. But he's planning something, setting some kind of trap for us, so we'll have to be extremely careful. On the highest possible alert. That means manning the control room twenty-four hours a day, keeping extra close watch on villainous activity until we figure out what's going on."

"Does that mean no more customer service?" Viktor asked hopefully.

"No. We must keep up our daily routine. We can't act like frightened rabbits hiding in our holes. That would not be heroic, and it might give away our identities which would give Mr. Misery the trump card he's fishing for. We must be cautious, but fearless."

"I'm being hunted by a supervillain and I still have to go to work and listen to people's complaints about zippers and warranties?"

"Yes, and Albion will keep replying to Bearboy's emails. The best thing to do about Mr. Misery is to take every precaution but don't let him get into your head. He threatens a lot of people because he likes to keep them guessing at which one he will crush." Boris smiled encouragingly.

Albion asked. "But that's like he doesn't even care if they get crushed or not. So why is he doing this at all?"

"Nobody knows." Albert said. "But as far as we know he's not interested in power or riches, he's rumored to already be powerful beyond belief and rich beyond comprehension. We also know of no reason for him to seek revenge. He seems to choose his enemies on a whim. Like Boris said, as far as we know he really just wants to make everyone as miserable as he is. In all his crimes that's the only common thread."

Boris added. "So the best way to beat him is to remain cheerful and go about our business. Speaking of which, we need to get back to work, Viktor, and we need to give Albion and Albert peace and quiet to keep a watchful eye on the monitors."

That meant no book dusting at all today, Albion thought and did indeed feel cheerful. Mr. Misery had probably not taken that into account when he sent his letter. One the other hand, judging from Viktor's haunted expression when he followed Boris back to Bjorn Industries, Mr. Misery might just have taken the bad with the good when he came up with his scheme.

Tuesday - part V

In the car, Viktor shuddered at the thought of future conversations with dissatisfied customers. "Dad, why do our products make people so angry?"

"They don't." Boris answered. "Not for the most part anyway, but so many people use our products that some will inevitably become unhappy with them. It's an unfortunate side-effect of success. And that is why our customer service needs to be up to scratch to smooth things out."

"OK, smoothing things out is really exhausting. How am I supposed to have energy left for other... important things..." Viktor glanced at the driver up front.

"If you ever find the answer to that, let me know." Boris said with a knowing smile, and from that smug expression Viktor surmised then that there was not going to be an easy way out for him. Boris' smile was the kind he got whenever you doubted that the world was as unfair as it seemed. And to make matters worse Viktor couldn't even be unhappy about his work because then Mr. Misery's agenda would be advanced. Viktor thought briefly that Mr. Misery was an awfully convenient villain for the adults.

When they returned to the mansion in the evening, Viktor could still hear the voices from the telephone in his head. "My tent is too dark at night." Or: "My waterproof boots are not waterproof at all from the top." Viktor was half-deliriously mumbling to himself: "You are our valued customer, your concerns are important to us."

He dragged himself inside, hoping to find his afternoon snack ready as usual but finding only an empty mansion. There was no signs of food or butlers.

"Dad?"

"Follow me." Said Boris, majestically unconcerned at the lack of snacks.

Viktor stumbled after his father down to the control room, tired but expectant. He had not been in the control room before. Albert and Albion were already inside with thermos of tea and some biscuits, which Viktor helped himself to with relish. They must have been having a picnic down there, he thought, monitoring villains while he was sitting at work with a target on his back. As Viktor wiggled clumsily out of his own work uniform, Boris flung his suit and tie on a chair and asked businesslike for the news.

"It's been quiet." Albert told him.

"Eerily quiet?" Boris asked.

"No. Tuesday afternoon quiet."

"Good. I'm not sure Viktor is in any condition to fight crime right now."

"No Dad, I am ready." Said Viktor, who really was eagerly looking forward to just that. Thinking about jumping into the Bearboy suit was all that had gotten him through the day.

"All the same, if no villains ply their trade tonight we shall have to content ourselves with preparations for when they do. Albion, why don't you show Viktor how the control room works while Albert brings me up to speed?"

Viktor did his best to pay attention while Albion explained about cameras and controls. It was all a little abstract when no-one was wearing the suits and the cameras were off, but once they got to the villain browser it became easier to follow. Viktor and Albion was soon lost in browsing the catalogue, forgetting past disagreements and talking about which villains it would be most dangerous, and therefore most glorious, to fight.

Occasionally they were disturbed by a buzzer going on in the room at low volume. A car crash, a robbery, a street fight or some such. They mostly ignored this. If it were suspected villain activity, the alarm was set to knock them out their seats. They did not want to risk missing anything important by pursuing some minor miscreant.

"We can't be everywhere." Boris said. "The police can handle regular crime. Our priority is to keep an eye out for Mr. Misery and his minions."

So they waited for anything out of the ordinary to happen. Albert brought their dinner down and they ate what they could, which for Viktor and Albion was not much. They were too absorbed by their villain studies. After many hours Boris got up and stretched his back. Yawning, he said: "You boys go to bed. We will keep the vigil going, though I'm starting to suspect Mr. Misery may not be in a hurry to strike."

The boys objected that they could not go to bed when the greatest villain in the world might show his hand at any time, but Boris was adamant. "Tomorrow we will need to do this all over again. You need your rest. We will wake you if anything happens. Now go brush your teeth so they will shine in the photographs you will insist on taking when we finally catch him."

"I guess it doesn't matter if I brush my teeth." Albion thought, but thought it churlish to say. "Nobody will ever take my picture with a villain." And then it was as if some invisible barrier had reinserted itself between him and Viktor. As if that thought had ended their brief respite in the control room, and Viktor at the same time had remembered that Bearboy's fanclub had been snatched right out of his hands. Once they'd left The Bearcave neither of them said much to the other. In their rooms, they both lay uneasily awake a long time before drifting off to unquiet dreams, and next morning they both woke suddenly, at the same hour, both overcome by a sudden certainty that they had missed something important. When Albion heard Viktor's door slam and then Viktor's hurried steps in the hallway, he was not long to follow.

Wednesday

Viktor and Albion nearly fell into the control room.

"What's happened?" Viktor panted and Albion immediately scanned the monitors for shocking news.

"Nothing." Said Boris, munching on a bagel. Albert, who had taken the last turn sleeping had just come down with fresh food and coffee.

"No villainous activity." Said Albert. "A good, quiet night."

Viktor blinked. "Still nothing? So what do we do?"

"We wait." Said Boris.

"And we don't know for how long." Albert said.

Boris nodded. "Listen boys, I understand if you are impatient, but this is an excellent lesson for you because our work down here is often like this. And we are glad because that means the world is safe from villains for the time being."

"It's not very heroic, though." Said Viktor.

"Being a hero is not what being a hero is about." Boris said. "You ought to know that by now." Albion noticed that Boris sounded a little tired.

Viktor said. "Dad, that makes no sense."

Boris sighed. "Let's talk about it later. It's early and maybe we all need some breakfast to get going. And then you two need to get ready for work, both of you."

"What kind of work should we prepare for?" Albion asked.

"Same as yesterday." Albert said. "Viktor will follow Boris to Bjorn headquarters and you stay with me."

"But what about Mr. Misery?"

"He's probably having a good chuckle at our expense now." Said Boris. "Let him have it, it won't hurt anyone."

Viktor was not satisfied: "Then why did we make such a fuss yesterday?"

"Because Mr. Misery is unpredictable." Boris replies. "He's so unpredictable that sometimes he does exactly what you expect and other times he does nothing at all. Yesterday we were on high alert. From now on we will merely be unusually vigilant."

Bring Your Child to Work Week was a lot less fun when instead of catching villains you had to go do a regular job. Albion mentioned this to Viktor over breakfast because he thought it was a good way to remind him they were both in the same boat. They were eating alone in the drawing room while their fathers monitored the crime maps in the Bearcave.

"What are you complaining about?" Said Viktor. "You get to read fan mail while I get yelled at by strangers on the phone."

"What am I complaining about? That I have to read your fan mail! It's just as bad as being on the phone with crazy people."

"You don't understand how lucky you are Albion, you get to stay here while I have to apologize to people I don't know for things I didn't do. You don't think my fans are as crazy as the people I have to deal with?"

"They must be to want to be your fan. You've only caught one villain, and he was really just a burglar with delusions of grandeur."

Viktor turned red. "Take that back!"

Albion felt he had gone to far too apologize. Also, it felt good to tell Viktor off. "You know it's true." He said. "Maria O'Malley knows it."

"Says you." Retorted Viktor. "And you're just jealous you're not Bearboy."

Now Albion turned a little red. "Everyone knows The Creep is not a real villain. See for yourself." Albion pushed his phone in front of Viktor who looked at it contemptuously.

"Forget it. I'm not looking at your stupid phone."

"Suit yourself then. Everyone else will be reading this today, though." Albion said and reached slowly for the phone. Like Albion suspected he would, Viktor grabbed the phone first and read The O'Malley Report By Maria O'Malley. The title was: _Hero or media stunt? Who is Bearboy and when will he catch a real villain?_ It seemed that Maria blamed Viktor for the fact that no villains were arrested on Tuesday, so since she had nothing else to write about she had written a critical article about his inactivity and possible sloth. Viktor read the whole thing, which really did describe The Creep as a 'burglar with delusions of grandeur.'

Viktor put the phone down. "So you were just waiting to spring that on me. Very nice."

"No I wasn't but you always just think of yourself, even when I spend all day answering your letters. I have to work for you and you don't appreciate it."

"All day? Apparently you had time to read the news too. But thanks for your help! It's good to know I have such a loyal friend to count on now that the greatest villain in the world has a grudge against me. Sorry that I didn't think about how hard that must be for you."

Viktor left his honey toast half-eaten on the plate. He walked out of the room stiff with the dignity of those soldiering on despite betrayals from their most trusted allies.

Albion felt bad, but he couldn't make himself apologize. Not when Viktor had only apologized sarcastically. All the same, a feeling started to nag Albion that maybe he should have considered that being threatened by Mr. Misery could be frightening, even if the threat was delivered by poem. For the rest of the breakfast, which he ate alone, it was as if a little lump of honey toast kept sticking in Albion's throat. He spent the rest of the day replying dutifully to Viktor's fan mail, which was a nerve-wracking experience because in the absence of any actual signs of Mr. Misery Albion was beginning to suspect the villain around every corner and in every new message. His heart jumped with every new click. Albion wondered if Viktor felt the same answering the phone at work, always suspecting that the caller would be Mr. Misery. If so then Albion understood why Viktor had been in such a bad mood.

Wednesday - part II

Viktor was as tired as he had been the day before when he came back from work. The lights on the monitors in the control room blinked their welcome at him and this perked him up for a minute. Then he looked closer and realized they were reporting peace and quiet. No villains had showed themselves. Viktor settled down in the other end of the room from Albion and soon drifted off into a kind of half slumber. Albion did his best to ignore Viktor back, and when he became sleepy himself decided he couldn't doze off because that would seem like imitation. He forced his eyes back on the laptop.

"If you boys would like to eat dinner upstairs we can keep an eye on the monitors in the meantime." Albert said.

"I want to stay here." Said Viktor, forcing his eyes open.

"Me too." Said Albion. Mostly, he just didn't want Viktor to think he'd won. If Viktor wanted to sit down here and suffer to prove he wasn't too tired to be a hero, Albion would suffer even more.

"Dinner in the cave again, then." Said Boris.

"I shall procure the tableware, Sir." Said Albert.

"I'll help." Said Albion. That was an excuse to get out for a bit without admitting that he was dead tired of staring at the big map where nothing interesting happened.

Boris nodded approvingly. "Energetic young man!" Which made Viktor scowl harder than ever at Albion.

"Dad, will this be another night with nothing to do?" Viktor asked.

"We shall see. You must learn to wait for those answers that show up on their own time. This will be a good time to practice that."

Viktor yawned again. "Alright, then. Waiting it is." He closed his eyes.

Next thing Viktor heard was Boris crying out: "Look, just what we've been waiting for!" and Viktor jumped up. He just had time to think how fortunate it was that Albion had left the room so he hadn't seen Viktor fall asleep before he saw Albert and Albion sitting at the table with the food all laid out before them, and Boris admiring a nice steak. Under his breath, Viktor cursed customer complaints for being so exhausting.

Falling asleep on the job somehow made Viktor even more annoyed with Albion. He didn't even ask Albion to pass the salt, but ate a tasteless, unsalted steak to prove to himself how mad he was. But they didn't eat in silence. Albion said. "I've been thinking about Mr. Misery's poem. Isn't it strange that he threaten us with monumental embarrassment instead of death or torture?

"He's a freak." Said Boris. "Even for a villain."

"The best psychologists in the world have tried to understand Mr. Misery." Said Albert. "But all they can agree on is that he's a lunatic, though haven't settled on out quite what kind yet."

"So you better not bust your brains wondering about it." Boris concluded. "That's just what he wants you to do." It was starting to sound like Mr. Misery wanted them to do a lot of things: Worrying, busting their brains, being miserable. Yet it was difficult not to worry when faced with such a mystery villain who was apparently very dangerous despite never showing up.

"It's just feels strange, that's all." Albion said. "It feels wrong."

"Of course." Boris replied cheerfully. "Mr. Misery is a proper supervillain. They're supposed to make you feel bad. That's only natural. But don't worry too much about that poem. Focus on the task in front of you. That is a good lesson for Bring Your Child To Work Week."

"Yes Mr. Bjorn." Said Albion though he was not entirely convinced it was such a good lesson. That poem had to mean something. Why else would Mr. Misery have gone to the trouble of writing it?

"It's all going to turn out alright, by the way." Said Boris. "You can trust me on that. Maybe we should never have told you of Mr. Misery. He's perhaps too complicated a villain for such young heroes in training." He gave a kind but weary smile. Both Viktor and Albion started to protest that they didn't want anything hidden from them, they wanted to know everything. Boris cut them off.

"Now, the best remedy for worry is rest, so tonight you should go to bed nice and early. Nothing gives strength and courage like a good night's sleep."

"But Dad, I'm not afraid." Protested Viktor. "Don't punish me just because Albion is obsessed with poetry."

"You may not be afraid, but you are certainly tired." Boris said. "And sleep is not a punishment, it's a reward."

Viktor glared furiously at Albion throughout the rest of dinner. To show that he blamed Albion for getting them sent early he refused to speak to him, but towards the end of the meal he relented and sent him a taunting text message. It said. "What are you so scared of anyway, nobody's threatening you. It's me Mr. Misery is after."

Albion replied. "At least one of us is trying to solve the case."

Then Albion put his phone face down on the table, to show Viktor what he thought of his message. The two of them kept up glaring and scowling at each other when they left the table and they maintained hostilities while brushing their teeth. When they were about to go to their separate rooms, Albion sighed and with a great effort asked Viktor if he still had their conversation open on their phone.

Viktor put his toothbrush firmly in its little cup. "Forget it, I'm not talking to you."

"I'm not talking to you either, I just want to know if you have our conversation open."

"I guess so. Why?"

"Try enabling video."

Viktor looked skeptical, but he did as suggested.

"What's this?" Viktor gave a start. "You hid your phone in the control room? Sneaky!" Viktor tried to keep the admiration out of his voice but couldn't entirely. "I can see all the alerts and some of the screens."

Viktor looked suddenly suspicious. "What do you want in return?"

Albion shrugged, trying to appear as cool as possible. "Just wake me up in case something good happens." And he went to his room very much hoping that something would.

Wednesday - part III

It was pitch black outside when Albion woke with a start. The wind rattled his window and his whole room appeared to be shaking. There was some loud noise. Albion just had time to think 'earthquake' before realizing that Viktor was standing next to him and shaking him by the shoulder.

"Albion wake up! Wake up! Are you awake?"

"Yes, yes. Stop shaking me. What's going on?"

"There's an alarm in the control room." Viktor said breathlessly. "They're not telling us about it so it must to be good, but they're getting ready to move out so we have to be quick." Viktor's eyes were shining. "It's a real villain this time, I know it."

Albion stumbled out of bed and into a pair of pants and a shirt. He helped Viktor move the cupboard that hid the entrance to the secret passageways that connected Albion's room to the Bearcave.

It was dark in there and the passages were narrow and eerily quiet. All Albion could hear was his own breath and Viktor's footsteps ahead of him. He followed that sound all the way down into the Bearcave. When Albion crawled out into the cave corridor, Viktor was already fumbling along the wall for the hidden door to the control room.

Albion had seen Albert open the door more often than Viktor had, so he ran to help and together they quickly found it. The door slid open. Inside Boris and Albert were engaged in intense conversation. Boris was already in the Bearsuit.

"Albion, what are you doing here?" Boris asked. Albion looked to Viktor for an answer, since Viktor was better at thinking quickly in these sorts of situations, or at least at talking quickly, but Viktor was not there. He had somehow managed to disappear just at the critical moment. Albion was alone and tongue-tied. "I couldn't sleep and-uh, we thought you might need some help keeping an eye on the monitors?" Boris looked unconvinced, but right then Viktor returned, carrying the Bearboy suit and looking determined.

"What's the mission?" Viktor asked, and without waiting for an answer from his surprised father, he began putting on the suit, piece by piece, with quick confident movements as if it was something he did every night.

Taking his cue from Viktor, Albion sat down in front of the control panel, next to Albert, and tried to look like he belonged there. He quickly got an overview of the strategic city map and the villain browser.

"Nightowl." Albion read out loud. "That's our villain. It says that Nightowl is the greatest burglar in the world."

Viktor scoffed disdainfully. "Another burglar. This should be easy. Hardly worth getting out of bed for. But since we're up, let's just get it over with."

Boris seemed torn between impatience and resignation. Albert cleared his throat politely.

"Still no alarms at City Hall, Sir." Albert said. "Then again, the security system there has just gone offline. I suggest we make all possible haste."

Viktor, who had finished strapping on the Bearskull, gave Albert and Boris the thumbs up. "Whenever you're ready, Dad." Perhaps sensing that Boris required a little more convincing, he added: "It's still Bring Your Child to Work Week, isn't it?"

With a grunt, Boris strapped on his own helmet. "You stay close to me." Viktor nodded so energetically his whole body bounced up and down like a spring as he got up and followed Boris to the Bearvan.

Through the speakers in the control room, Albion could follow their conversation.

"This is not a practice run like Monday, Viktor. Nightowl is a real villain."

"Finally!" Viktor's voice exploded out of the speakers. Albion adjusted the volume on the microphone in Viktor's suit. "I mean, I understand, Dad."

Albert accepted Albion's presence without remark. "Familiarize yourself with the entries about Nightowl, and warm up your hands so you are ready to operate the cameras at full speed. Like Boris said, we are fighting a real villain tonight so we cannot risk mistakes."

But where Viktor seemed to grow more confident in the face of danger, Albion felt it had the exact opposite effect on him. Albert had barely spoken before Albion felt his palms grow sweaty and his vision hazy. His hands slid on the controls and his eyes glanced over each fact in the villain browser without absorbing any of them into his brain.

"OK, no mistakes." Albion rubbed his eyes but that didn't help. The browser was still a blur. "Um, Dad, maybe you could explain the details of the mission to Viktor while I study Nightowl?" Albion needed time to calm his nerves. He felt someone should have warned him earlier to give him time to prepare, though he could not think of who should have done that.

Fortunately, Albert was ready to help. "Division of labor, excellent idea." Albert said. "Viktor, can you hear me?"

"This is Bearboy, I hear you loud and clear." Behind Viktor's voice was heard a low smooth rumbling, indicating that the Bearvan was already on the road and moving fast.

"This is what we know." Albert Began. "Ten minutes ago, motion sensors around city hall were triggered and security cameras caught a glimpse of the intruder, just enough for us to recognize Nightowl as the responsible villain."

"Why do we have motion sensors around city hall?" Albion asked.

Boris broke in before Albert could answer. "Not an important detail right now."

Albert, however, was happy to explained. "Since we received the letter from Mr. Misery, Boris has deployed the Flying Bears to keep an eye on The Mayor to make sure she is safe."

"Yes, thank you Albert." Said Boris. "The Mayor is very important to The City."

"But Mr. Misery never mentioned anything about her." Albion said.

Boris coughed loudly. "As I said we can discuss this later, now for more about Nightowl."

But then Viktor asked. "Dad, did you tell The Mayor about the threat from Mr. Misery?"

"Viktor." Said Boris hoarsely. "You know how busy The Mayor is and besides she is not so fond of illegal surveillance, I mean extra-legal surveillance."

"Dad, what is extra-legal surveillance?"

Boris groaned impatiently. But Albert replied. "That's a very good question, Viktor. A very good question indeed. Extra means 'in addition to' or 'beyond what's usual.'

Boris cut in. "Thank you for that explanation Albert. So in conclusion, it is kind of like a bonus-law." He added in an undertone. "As we have already discussed between ourselves, thank you."

"My pleasure to be of assistance, Sir."

"But even if we have The Mayor under, um, extra-legal surveillance, what are the Flying Bears doing at City Hall now?" Albion wondered out loud. "It's the middle of the night."

"Yes, well, The Mayor works day and night to prepare the Charity Ball." Boris explained. "She is an official fully dedicated to her city, and her city needs to keep her safe in return."

Albion still found it difficult to focus his eyes and his palms had grown even sweatier at the idea of bonus-laws. Every few seconds he wiped them on his pants. It only added to his worry that Boris was concerned enough about the threat from Mr. Misery that he was willing to break the rules in order to keep The Mayor safe. For rule-loving Boris to go that far meant that the danger posed by Mr. Misery was probably even greater than the adults had let on. Maybe that was also why they had intended to leave Albion and Viktor in bed while Boris sallied forth to protect The Mayor alone. Albion now wondered nervously if maybe that would not have been for the better. Then he could have been sleeping instead of trying not to panic.

Albion wondered if Viktor was also having second thoughts about joining this mission but he guessed Viktor was just ecstatic. Between the two of them, it was usually Albion who did the worrying, along with the second thoughts, while Viktor handled tall tales and spontaneous misadventures. So Albion knew he was the one who would have to be extra vigilant until they were all safe at home again. But that would be a lot easier to do if his hands would stay dry and if his heart would stop beating so fast.

Wednesday - part IV

Albion thought it would be obvious to anyone looking at him that his nerves were now the consistency of overcooked pasta, and he was half afraid and half longing Albert to look at him and send him back to his room. Incredibly, Albert didn't seem to notice. Rather, by the time Boris and Viktor arrived at City Hall, Albert had somehow produced a cup of tea without ever seeming to have gone away. He induced Albion to drink this and it soothed Albion's nerves, making him wonder if Albert had added some secret ingredients to the cup. The tea helped, but when Viktor asked about Nightowl's powers, Albion had only just recovered and had not prepared an answer yet.

"Um, let's see." Albion mumbled. "First of all, of course, she's the world's greatest burglar."

"Nightowl is a woman?" Viktor asked.

"Yes. A woman with the power to, let's see, steal things people thought were unstealable. That's what it says. It doesn't sound too dangerous."

"Well, at least it's some kind of superpower." Said Viktor. "What about weaknesses."

"It specifically mentions that she can't fly, though she has been known to try. So that's something."

"She can't fly?"

"No but she can jump unusually high. She has used this skill to escape crime scenes. Also, it says she is theatrical."

"What do you think that means?" Viktor asked.

"That she likes to show off, I guess." Albion replied. He was frowning at the villain browser. It was as if the database was not after all the all-knowing source of useful facts he had assumed it would be. It actually seemed to be a little improvised in some areas and very subjective in others."

"Dad, who makes the villain browser?" Albion asked.

"Excellent question, Albion. You should always consider your sources carefully. To answer your question, the villain browser is made by superheroes and their sidekicks from all over the world."

"Have you and Boris helped to make it."

"Of course. Updating the villain browser with the latest villain information is a part of our duties. Mostly this task falls within my domain, but Boris also contributes. As an example, he wrote an evocative account of the different smells of Skunkman, the kind only a person who has experienced it personally could do. Of course, we get most of our information on the villains when we catch them, which is unfortunate because we really need the information before that. For example, Nightowl has never been caught, which means her entry may not be complete and we must keep our eyes open for unexpected tricks."

"Very true, Albert." Boris said. "Now, what does it say about known associates? Does she have partners in crime?"

Albion quickly checked. "It says she works alone." But now he wasn't sure anymore if he could trust this information.

Boris seemed less concerned. "Good, that simplifies things. Does it say anything about what kinds of things she steals? Are there any patterns to her criminal activity?"

This Albion had gleaned already. "Artworks. Paintings, precious artefacts and so on. She usually targets museums and private collections."

"So what's she doing at City Hall?" Said Boris. "I have seen the art in the hallways and I doubt it's very valuable."

"The Mayor's ceremonial chains are considered something of a masterpiece by goldsmiths, are they not, Sir?" Said Albert. "And they are kept in a highly secure display case inside City Hall."

"By the devil, you are right Albert! The ceremonial chains. The Mayor needs them for The City Hall Charity Ball. It would be a tremendous embarrassment for a mayor who is tough on crime to have her ceremonial chains stolen right from under her nose right before she needs them."

Something Boris had just said rang a bell in his mind and he was racing through Nightowl's entry to try to figure out why. By that point, if his hands were still sweaty he no longer noticed. He stumbled across an entry that made him gasp. "Listen to this. Several artworks stolen by Nightowl has later shown up in the possession of self-professed associates of Mr. Misery." Albion was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. He felt like a detective who had uncovered a criminal scheme just in time to foil it. Mr. Misery was making his move, but they were already one step ahead.

"Yes, it's plausible." Boris agreed. "Very good, Albion, but let's not forget that every villain on the planet has some connection to Mr. Misery, or at claims to have." The humming in the background of Boris and Viktor's microphones stopped. "We're here." Boris said. "We are preparing to enter the premises."

Albert replied. "We have received no new information from the Flying Bears so you will have to go in blind. Good luck, Sir. Good luck, Viktor."

"Thank you, Albert." Boris replied, and a few tense minutes later he confirmed. "We're inside City Hall. It's quiet and dark."

Albert flipped the Bearsuit cameras to night vision mode and on the screens Albion saw the deserted hallways stretching out towards the display room where The Mayor's chain was kept.

"One more thing." Said Viktor. "Does Nightowl actually look like an owl? Feathers and everything?"

"We have only a brief video from tonight, taken from the back." Albion explained. "We only have clear vision of her for a few seconds, or I should say that she's clearly in the video during that time. Because it's hard to say what she actually looks like. Perhaps she does resemblance an owl, but perhaps she doesn't. I think her suit is at least a little feathery, though I couldn't definitely say that there are actually feathers on it."

"Um, could you be a little more specific, Albion?" Boris requested.

The truth was that Albion had not seen the rear end of very many owls before, and there was something strangely undefinable about Nightowl's suit, too.

"Dad, could you help me describe this." Albion said, embarrassed at not being of more help on the very night when it was important for him not to make any mistakes.

"Sir, I beg your pardon." Said Albert. "But I have to concur with Albion's assessment. Nightowl's appearance is oddly indescribable, almost as if her suit is somehow preventing us from truly seeing her. Albion, what does the villains database say about her appearance."

"That field is almost blank." Albion said. "It say she 'sort of' looks like an owl. Sort of?" Albion frowned. "Dad, who wrote this?"

Albert bent over Albion and clicked a few buttons to bring up the author's name. "Ah, Frogman." Said Albert. "Yes, his reports are sometimes a little sloppy. We may have to make a few updates after tonight. For now, the short of it is that we don't have a clear description, Sir."

"Excuse me. " Said Viktor. "But I don't see the problem. Won't Nightowl be the person in a mask holding The Mayor's gold chain? And won't she be the only person in the room not wearing a Bearsuit? I mean, she can't be that hard to recognize."

"Alright Viktor, keep your voice down now, we're getting close." Boris said, lowering his voice as they neared the end of the hallway. Through the cameras Albion could see they were approaching a large, decorated entrance with two doors meeting in the middle. It was more of a gate than a door, really. "Tonight I don't think we have time for the subtle approach." Boris continued. "Nightowl has escaped Frogman, and that tells me she is both quick and tricky. We will have to take her by surprise. I will burst through these doors while you, Viktor, stay here with the webgun ready in case she tries to flee this way."

"Just like last time." Viktor whispered happily.

Boris paused for a second to get ready. "Are you ready, Viktor?"

Viktor replied without hesitation. "Totally ready."

Wednesday - part V

Boris smashed through the doors, sending them swinging against the wall on either side. The clash echoed in the empty corridors as Boris leaped halfway across the circular room. At the far end, another door was already open, and in the center stood a mannequin inside a cage of bulletproof glass, where The Mayor's chain was usually displayed. But the cage was open and the chain was missing. Next to it stood a woman in a suit whose appearance was indeed hard to pin down to any specific description. She was holding a bag as heavy as gold.

Albion, observing through the bearcams, studied Nightowl's suit intently. It was not quite leather, or fur. The color was not quite brown or orange, at least not very much so. It did not exactly have wings, but it was also hard to say for certain that it lacked them. One might say it nearly, or potentially, had both wings and feathers. It was a suit it would be impossible for a witness to describe usefully to the police, but also, strangely, a suit it was difficult not to stare at. The perfect suit for a burglar that wanted to be admired while committing crimes, but really didn't want to be associated with them afterwards. But Albion only had the blink of an eye to think about this, because Boris closed in on Nightowl with tremendous speed. Albion thought there was no chance for evasion, but Albion's only experience with villains was The Creep, and Nightowl quickly proved that she was in different a different league. Though she had her back turned and only a second to react, she somehow managed it just in time. She jumped straight up, towards the vaulted ceiling and Boris' claws caught only air.

Albion was duly impressed, even though Nightowl was not quite as nimble in the air as when taking off. The villain browser had not lied when it said she was good at jumping but couldn't fly. Rather, she glided, fluttering her arms ungracefully like a bird with an overfull stomach and landed a safe distance behind Boris. She did not seem to notice Viktor, who quickly moved into position with the webgun.

Boris turned around for another attack, but he had built up so much momentum in his first charge that changing direction was not straightforward. Worse, his feet found no purchase on the floor and he slid forward, away from his target as if he was on ice.

Nightowl emitted a terrible, screeching laugh as she performed another nimble jump and clumsy glide to pick up the heavy bag she had dropped when evading Boris. She was so quick that Viktor never had time to aim.

"I have greased the floor, Bearman." She cackled. "You have rushed to catch me, only to find a first row seat to my escape. How ironic."

Nightowl jumped again, straight up as before but this time she flailed her arms wider and, observing through Viktor's snout cam, Albion saw a thin fabric, like a small sail, tautly suspended between Nightowl's sides and arms. She glided over the grease towards the far exit.

When Viktor fired the webgun, Nightowl had less than a second from the whoosh of the release to take evasive maneuvers, but again her reactions were impeccable. She dived and the web clattered uselessly against the ceiling. Boris continued sliding on the grease until he hit a wall with a dull thud, rattling the pictures hanging nearby. But the wall provided the solid support he needed to steady himself. Fortunately, Viktor's harassment with the webgun had forced Nightowl off course, swerving further away from the exit, but Boris still had to be fast to make sure she did not make it there anyway. He pounced again, higher than before to prevent his adversary from scrambling to the ceiling and more freedom of movement. Nightowl was forced to duck again, gliding close to the floor and precipitously pulling up. This maneuver avoided a crash landing but it also killed her flight momentum, and she was forced to let herself float the last distance to the floor to jump again.

She was slowed down, but as far as Albion could see, the path to the far exit was now wide open for Nightowl, with Boris on the wrong side to stop her. Nightowl made a similar analysis. "Clumsy beast." She crowed as she landed with a clear view to freedom. But she had barely touched ground before her limbs slid out from under her. She emitted an offended howl that was cut short by the floor knocking the wind out of her when she fell on it.

Then Albion realized what Boris had done, he had left Nightowl no choice but to duck into her own grease pit, leveling the playing field by ensuring they would both be encumbered by the grease. Albion was awestruck at how quickly Boris had adjusted to Nightowl's trap and even turned it against her. Yet, at the same time he was not sure it was going to be enough. Boris had stabilized again for the third attack, but Nighowl was also nearly on her feet again and still closer to the exit than anyone else.

"Caught in my own design. How ironic." She said. "But only a minor setback. See you on the front page Bearman, where news of my daring coup will stand shoulder to shoulder with reports of your abject failure to stop me."

Wasting no more time, she jumped for the exit, and Boris was too far away to catch her in time. He hadn't even jumped yet. What was he waiting for? Had he given up?

For a second it looked like it was all over, but when Nightowl tried to spread her wings again, her suit failed. The thick grease it had found its way into her suit and was interfering with the control mechanisms of her wings. Nightowl could no longer steer as well as before, she flailed her wings but they responded unfamiliarly and she went into a spin, like a flying drill, and tumbled to the floor with a nasty thud.

Albion was in greater admiration of Boris than ever. The confidence it had taken to pull off that plan, risking everything on an inspired hunch. What if it hadn't worked? Boris hadn't even seemed to consider that possibility.

"Game over, Nightowl." Boris cried cheerfully, though he was not himself without difficulties. He was trying to reach Nightowl's position, but as they were both still on the grease he had to tread cautiously. He slipped and slided, sometimes resorting to balancing on all fours like Bambi bear on ice. But he closed in. The crash and the loss of her wings had deflated Nightowl's balloon. She was struggling to her feet, but with less conviction than before, it didn't look like she believed in her escape anymore. When Boris reached her before she could launch another flight attempt, she simply she raised her arms in surrender and sat back down.

"Defeated by my own brilliance." Nightowl said tragically. "My greatest coup has become my undoing." She flailed her greased up arms weakly in irritation. "How...terribly... ironic."

Albion had just started to wonder what Viktor had been doing in the second half of the fight, when he heard Viktor's excited voice. "Don't worry, Dad. She won't get away this time." Viktor was rushing to the scene clutching the reloaded webgun, trying to aim it as he ran. Just as Nightowl was about to protest that she had already surrendered and deserved the dignity of a prisoner of war, Viktor fired the second round and this time his aim was true. The web wrapped Nightowl firmly in a white cocoon.

"I got her, Dad!" Viktor called.

"Alright, Son. Good aim, but a bit unnecessary. She had already surrendered, and now these perfectly fine webs are going to get very greasy before we get her out of them."

"Yeah, but she won't escape. And Albert and Albion can fix the webs, can't they?" Viktor said.

"I believe we shall manage." Albert said, like it was no big deal, but Albion suddenly remembered how annoying Viktor sometimes were. He tried to think of a stinging remark to cut Viktor down to size, but he got distracted by something on the cameras. An odd shadow in the middle of the room, right by the case where the ceremonial chains had been on display.

Was it just a shadow, or was it...

"Boris, behind you!" Albion called, and Boris spun around while a small figure stood up beside the empty glass box.

It was a girl, about the same height as Viktor, dressed in a vaguely owl-like costume, a miniature Nightowl.

"It's Owlgirl!" Viktor exclaimed.

"Actually, it's not." The girl said. "Not that it matters anymore now that Mom has been caught, but for the record, I'm The Owlet. So anyway, are you going to arrest me? I really don't mind, you know, as long as it means this lousy, horrible Bring Your Child To Work Week will finally come to an end."

Wednesday – part VI

Albion had on several occasions been dissatisfied with his lot during Bring Your Child To Work Week, but now he had seen someone who had it worse. Being a trainee butler was not Albion's dream, but it was leagues above being a trainee villain on the way to prison. Everyone felt a change the atmosphere after Owlet had been discovered. Capturing villains was normally a triumphant experience, but capturing them in front of their children was an awkward occasion. "It's the dark side of Bring Your Child To Work Week." Boris whispered into the bearsuit microphone. "I had no idea the villains would participate too."

Viktor, in contrast to everyone was else, was enthusiastic about their discovery. "The Owlet? That's villain name. Dad, we got another one!"

Viktor raised the webgun deliberately, then remembered the chamber was empty. He started loading another canister, but Boris waved him off. "Stop that, she's not trying to escape."

"But Dad, she's holding something. It could be a weapon."

"It's a book." Said Owlet. "It's my homework."

Viktor discreetly loaded the webgun anyway, turning his back to Boris so he wouldn't see. He said "I think it's suspicions that she's not trying to escape. We've caught her red-handed."

"I imagine she wants to stay with her mother." Boris motioned at Nightowl, who was sprawled on the greasy floor in her web cocoon.

"I'm only here for the same reason you are, Bearboy." Owlet said. "Because of Bring Your Child To Work Week."

"It's my fault." Nightowl cried, as if someone had said it was not. "My sweet Owlet, you didn't even try to escape while your mother created a diversion. Now we are at the mercy of these people, so you must not anger them. Perhaps they will be kind to an innocent child, uuh-hu-hu-hu."

No one knew exactly what that sound at the end of her speech was. Viktor and Boris exchanged uncomfortable glances, as did Albion and Albert. The only one who appeared completely indifferent was Owlet. She stared levelly at her mother.

"Please, Mom. Stop embarrassing us. You already got caught, don't make it worse."

Boris cleared his throat. "Well now, that's no way to talk to your mother." He whispered into his microphone: "Although she has a point." Viktor nodded. He still had the webgun in hand, in case Owlet decided to make a run for it after all.

"Don't be hard on my poor l Owlet." Cried Nightowl. "Her only crime is having me for a mother." She wiggled pitifully around to look her daughter in the eye. "I was going to make you so proud of me tonight. HOW IRONIC UH-HUH-HUH."

"What is this noise?" All the light in the room flipped on. The Mayor, holding a glass of water in one hand, stood in the door by the light switch. "What have you done to the floor?" She said. "Where is my ceremonial chain?" She saw Boris. "Bearman! Good to see you here in this mess, you will be able to explain this midnight madness."

"Well met, Mayor." Bearman said. "Glad to see you safe and sound. To answer your questions, your chain is in that bag over there, where this villain has left it after covering the floor in grease in an attempt to sabotage justice. Here, let me show you."

Boris maneuvered carefully across the grease with the bag of loot, and everyone waited in silence for a glimpse of the thing they had been fighting for. The Mayor pulled a chain of thick golden rings out of the bag. Attached to it was a decorative emblem, a small shield also in gold, displaying The City's coat of arms.

The Mayor studied the chain, then the empty mannequin in the middle of the room, then Nightowl on the floor. "Bearman, it seems this city has landed in your debt once again."

"Oh think nothing of it Mayor." Said Boris, and Albion thought it sounded like he was blushing. "Just doing our job."

The Mayor looked appraisingly at Viktor. "And I another hero has come to our aid as well."

Viktor straightened his back, prepared to humbly accept any praise The Mayor deemed fit to bestow on him, though preferably a great deal of it. But just then more footsteps sounded in the hall, and The Mayor turned around. "Lewis O'Malley! You too! You do have a habit of showing up at the most unfortunate times."

Lewis emerged from the doorway just behind Viktor. Albion realized that he had again forgotten to scan the room with the skull-cams. He had let himself be distracted by the appearance of The Mayor, and as a consequence, not one but two nosy reporters had managed to surprise them all. Lewis had brought his daughter Maria with him and she was already taking notes at a furious pace. Albion thought with a pang of guilt that he was lucky Lewis and Maria were just reporters and not backup villains.

Wednesday - part VII

"Maria O'Malley." The Mayor said, like they were old friends. That was a way The Mayor had of. It was said to be part of the reason for her popularity. "I've read your column. Well done, young lady."

"Thank you, Mayor." Maria said. "But I must warn you I'm here to ask questions. Um, difficult questions."

The Mayor nodded. "I expect nothing less from intrepid young reporters. Give me your best shot." This readiness to face questioning, along with the compliment, caught Maria off guard. She struggled to remember what exactly her difficult questions were about, and to hide her sheepish smile. The Mayor smiled benevolently back at her. Lewis O'Malley saw what was happening and came to his daughter's aid. "Mayor, as pleased as we all are that The City's valuables are safe, why are we again relying on masked individuals to show up in the nick of time? What would have happened tonight if Bearman had not shown up?"

Boris scoffed: "A preposterous scenario. There was crime. An end was put to it."

"And what if another crime was taking place right now? Who would stop that?"

The Mayor answered without hesitation. "Justice Woman, Frogman, or maybe The Hooded Cavalier?"

Lewis interrupted. "Yes, well, but who are these people really? How can we trust them more than this night's poor villain? They are as mysterious to us as she is, what's to stop them from turning bad, too?" Lewis pointed at Nightowl, who appeared grateful to be remembered and hooted mournfully in response:

"It is true. I could have used my powers for good, but I am a poor sinner and turned to crime to feed my daughter. There is no money in good deeds, they are the domain of those favored by fortune."

Boris scoffed again. "A fine performance for the bleeding hearts that read your paper, Lewis. But don't forget that Nightowl has stolen several fortunes in fine art during her career. Enough to retire on years ago. She's a habitual criminal and her comeuppance is long overdue."

"I don't question that." Lewis said. "I merely ask how we can trust others of her masked and caped ilk not to turn down the same dark and greedy path?"

As he was saying these words, Lewis O'Malley took a rhetorical step forward and flourished his arm, but this was a step too far. His foot landed on grease and slipped out from under him. He fell over and landed on his back, sliding a short distance further into the grease pit. Taken aback by this precipitous end to his speech, he only got back to his feet with much struggle, and even then it seemed a matter of pure luck that he kept standing.

"What I mean to say." He continued, with great dignity, though a little more ruffled than before. "Is that as convenient as heroes are, should we not ask for more? For a police force strong enough to keep us safe without relying on mystery men who don't look that different from the villains they're fighting?"

"It seems to me we look nothing alike." Said Boris, greatly offended.

"Do you not see how much you have in common? Just look at your children."

Lewis pointed to Owlet and Viktor. On closer inspection, and partly because Owlet's suit had that indefinable quality that made it look a little bit like anything, Albio who was still watching through the bearcams had to agree there was some similarity.

Lewis went on. "This young villain's only crime was to follow her mother to work, like you declared she should, Mayor. And what hero will save her now? Will Frogman pack her lunch, will Justice Woman help her with her homework. Will the Hooded Cavalier take her to swimming lessons? What this city needs is not more heroes catching criminals, it's better schools and more jobs. If we save the villains, we won't need the heroes."

Nightowl sobbed in agreement. The Mayor smiled politely. "I suppose you make a valid point." She said. "And I'm afraid we are sadly unprepared for underage villains, yes. But Lewis, even you have to admit that nobody could have known that villains would participate in Bring Your Child To Work Week."

"But doesn't that just go to show that they are more like us than we like to admit?" Lewis said triumphantly. Maria's eyes shone with admiration, she was hanging on to his every word.

But Boris was getting impatient: "I suppose The Captain is on her way now with some officers to settle things here before too long?"

"I suppose." The Mayor agreed. "She usually appears at about this time on occasions such as this."

"She does, doesn't she?" Boris agreed, a worried frown forming on his face. "I hope she is alright. She did look a little stressed on Monday, on account of her boys. I hope they haven't locked her in a cell and thrown away the key." He spoke in to his microphone. "Albert, when did you call her? I really don't want to listen to another of Lewis' speeches, and I feel he's got another one brewing."

"Actually, Sir, I believe Mr. O'Malley is currently occupied with other matters." Albert replied. Indeed, Lewis had realized he was trapped in the grease pit, and that any movement he made threatened another humiliating tumble. He was starting to look desperate for a way out. His eyes met Boris' but quickly passed on to The Mayor. He probably felt he could not ask a hero to save him so soon after making his anti-hero speech.

"Mayor, would you happen to know when the cleaners arrive to mop up this mess?" Lewis asked, as conversationally as he could.

"In the morning, which is hours from now. Which reminds me, I have work to do tonight. I see everything is in hand here. If you need me I'll be in my office." She disappeared out of the room, leaving Lewis mumbling to himself about The Mayor as usual relying on heroes to take care of problems.

"Everything in hand, yes. Cleaners in the morning, hmm." Lewis looked around again. He had gotten himself out of worse pickles before, what was a little grease? Carefully, he got down on his hands and knees, having reasoned that crawling out of the grease would be the safest escape. But the grease was villainous. Even on all fours, the slightest movement required the delicate grace and balance of a ballet dancer. And though Lewis was not clumsy, he was no white swan. His arms and knees slid every which way and before long left him face down in the grease.

"Dad, are you OK?" Maria called.

"Yes, darling. Tip-top." Lewis said and spit out some grease.

Boris sighed deeply, perhaps moved by the invisible bond between parents that existed during Bring Your Child To Work Week. He jumped on the grease and slid, if not gracefully then at least without falling, over to Lewis and calling out on the way. "Listen up, O'Malley, I can't stop so you gotta be quick. Jump on my back and I'll take you to the other side."

Lewis was about to protest, but Boris was gliding straight towards him, and since some kind of collision seemed inevitable, Lewis decided to make the best of it. He latched on to the Bearsuit and together the two of them glided to the other edge of the grease.

Lewis awkwardly thanked Bearman for the assistance.

"Think nothing of it." Boris replied. "But you might tell me, who called you here tonight?"

"Ah." Said Lewis. "We had an anonymous tip."

"A tip? From whom?"

"A reporter don't reveal his sources." Lewis said, then added confidentially: "But between us, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted. It was the little one who got the call." Lewis nodded proudly towards Maria.

"I see." Said Boris. He looked darkly from Maria to Viktor, who suddenly became very busy fiddling with the webgun.

"A reporter doesn't reveal her sources." Boris mumbled. Still looking hard at Viktor, he said: "I guess we shall never know, then, who put our mission at risk for the sake of a little attention."

Viktor shook his head. "It could've been anyone. But now that the reporters are here we might as well make the best of the situation and get some good press, maybe a photo or two, don't you think, Dad?"

Wednesday - part VIII

Boris was fairly certain Viktor was the anonymous informant, but at the same time a press photo would bring the reporters' attention back to the heroes and might distract Lewis from making further speeches. So Boris produced a strained smile. "OK, Bearboy. Take a picture."

But it was too late to focus all of the reporters' attention back where it belonged. Maria had already approached Nightowl for an exclusive interview.

"Is this appropriate?" Boris asked Lewis.

"If your kid can shoot her, can't my kid talk to her? Seems appropriate enough to me." Lewis replied

"The Captain should do interviews here, O'Malley."

"You can't stop the free press, Bearman." Lewis said cheerfully as Maria introduced herself to the subject of her next big scoop.

Nightowl welcomed her with a tragic smile. "Sweet little girl. As you see, I am a woman at the end of my rope, at the mercy of strangers. But perhaps some of these strangers will be moved to mercy when you tell my tragic story."

Maria's eyes lit up. "Yes?"

Nightowl looked meeker than ever. "I could tell you a story to make your readers weep, a story of the heights of artistic passion and the lows of a single mother trapped in the criminal underworld."

"You are an artist?" Maria asked.

"Yes! I was a starving artist but it didn't pay the bills." She hesitated. "So I moved into art redistribution. You might say I acquaint works of art and art lovers with each other in ways that surprises everyone involved."

"Especially the previous owners, I imagine." It was the firm voice of The Captain, cutting Nightowl's tragic story off. She had just then arrived with two uniformed officers, but no children this time.

"Captain! You are a sight for sore eyes." Said Boris. "Well met."

"Crime never sleeps, as you know, Bearman, so it seems I won't either. What do you have for me tonight?"

"Nightowl, the greatest burglar in the world!" Viktor burst out. "She tried to steal The Mayor's gold chain but I caught her with the webgun."

The Captain appraised Viktor. "You're getting a lot of target practice, Bearboy. Villains beware." Viktor beamed with pride and was on the nip of unholstering the web gun yet again to admire it some more. The Captain greeted Lewis, and inquired politely why he was there.

He explained about Maria's mystery insider contact. "She followed a hunch, like all good reporters must. I cannot, and will not, stand in the way of a good hunch." He said.

"You don't have to explain, Lewis." The Captain sighed. "If only my little beasts were half as useful as your girl... well, then they probably wouldn't be in prison now."

Lewis looked concerned, and interested. "You have arrested your children?"

"They made it too tempting. They snuck into the cell themselves, against my clear orders, and I merely made the best of a bad situation by realizing it was preferable not to let them out again. But more importantly, who is the girl in the owl costume, reading a book on my crime scene?"

"Thank you, kind captain." Sobbed Nightowl immediately. "For thinking of my poor Owlet, dragged into this mess through no fault of her own, plagued by bad luck and tragic circumstances. She is only doing her homework."

"That's enough, villain." The Captain cut her off. "I'll get to you in good time. For now, stay where you are and keep looking guilty. You, girl, stand up and explain yourself."

Owlet closed her book. She got to her feet, looked The Captain boldly in the eyes and spoke with strained patience. "I'm really just trying to do my homework. As for how I got here, it's because of Bring Your Child to Work Week, which my mom said would be fun and educational." With that, Owlet sat back down, disregarding her mother's heartbroken sobs.

The Caption leaned closer to Boris and said in a low voice. "She doesn't look guilty."

Boris shook his head. "She was here, dressed like that, but that's all I can say against her."

"You can never be too careful with villains, though." Said The Captain. "Even the small ones."

Boris kept shaking his head. "Couldn't agree more. You never know what they're up to." They studied Owlet reading her book quietly for the next few minutes, while the police officers tried to dig Nightowls wrists out of the web so they could handcuff her.

"We'll have to think of something to do with the girl." The Captain said. Boris nodded.

Viktor, who overheard this, made a suggestion. "We could take a photograph. You know, as a warning to other young villains."

Albion was amazed that Viktor was not in the least concerned that last time he was in the news, Mr. Misery had taken notice of him. In Viktor's Place, Albion would have tried to attract as little attention as possible, not invite it the way Viktor was doing. The Captain and Boris were also skeptical, and remained so even when Viktor whispered to Boris that he was still allowed one more selfie that week. But Maria O'Malley was still looking for her big scoop of the day, since her exclusive interview with Nightowl had been rudely interrupted half way. Now she saw another chance. She argued that a photograph of Bearboy handing The Mayor's ceremonial chain to The Captain would be sure to raise awareness of the Charity Ball on Friday. Boris looked nervously at Lewis O'Malley, and seeing how proud Lewis was of his daughter's meddling, Boris decided that as long as Lewis was distracted at least he wouldn't make more speeches. So in the end Boris consented to the picture too.

Viktor and Maria were thrilled, but Albion detected something ominous about Maria's excitement. She was looking at Bearboy with the same greedy look with which Viktor had looked at The Creep. Was Maria really that excited about the rescue of an old chain that was used a couple a times of year? Albion had a bad feeling this was not the case and tried desperately to figure out what she might be planned. He had failed to be watchful on two occasions that night already, this time he was determined not to fail. Still, Albion could not think of anything particularly suspicious until Viktor warmed up his big-boy smile. Then Albion knew. A triumphant light came on in Maria's eyes as soon as she saw it, you could almost the hear bells ringing in her head. Maria knew Viktor from school, and like everyone there she knew Viktor's big-boy smile. She had also seen it in action when Bearboy captured The Creep. Perhaps she was starting to put two and two together. Albion felt cold shivers run down his back. Boris had let Viktor take control of the Flying Bears for use as photographers, and Viktor had already flown them into position.

Albion was convinced Maria would not think twice before exposing Bearboy's secret identity, not if it provided her next big scoop. She was every bit as committed to the profession Bring Your Child To Work Week had thrust upon her as Viktor was to his.

"Wait!" Albion cried, but Viktor did his best not to heard anything.

"Viktor, you must not under any circumstance use your big-boy smile." Albion said. "I think Maria has recognized you."

Boris looked alarmed, but not Viktor. He mumbled out of the side of his mouth. "There is no way she can outsmart me. And this is a big smile occasion." In a louder voice he yelled. "Smile!" And he flashed his biggest big-boy smile yet and before anyone could stop it the Flying Bears had taken perhaps the best picture ever taken of a young, triumphant superhero returning stolen goods to The Captain of police.

Wednesday - part IX

Albion watched with growing apprehension a satisfied smile formed on Maria O'Malley's face. Albert noticed it too. "Sir, perhaps there is something to Albion's theory. I advise caution." To Albion he said. "We can manipulate the photo the flying bears took before giving it to Maria, to make Viktor's smile look like anyone's. That should do it as long as Maria doesn't get her hands on the original." Albion felt a wave a relief, and of pride that this time he'd caught the danger before the monitors had.

"Very well." Said Boris. "Our work here is done anyway. Bearboy, we're returning to the Bearcave."

But Maria had left nothing to chance. She had only had a few seconds to approach Viktor for a second photograph, on her own phone, but those few seconds were all Viktor had needed to produce another characteristic big-boy smile.

"Bearboy!" Boris shouted. "Was the number of acceptable selfies for this week not made clear?"

Viktor answered with an innocent expression. "But this was a press photo. It was work."

Boris fumed. "From now on, no more photographs of any kind. To the Bearvan!"

The Captain cleared her throat. "Just a minute, Bearman. About these villains. Normally we'd take them in, but right now we're fully booked downtown and they don't seem too dangerous. I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but can you hold these villains in the Bearcave for a few days?"

"Oh, can we Dad?" Said Viktor, like they were discussing the adoption of some dangerous but exciting animal, like a tiger or a crocodile.

Boris waved for him to be quiet. "The jails are full? But yesterday was such a quiet and lawful day?"

"Because the criminals are in jail already." The Captain said. "And those that weren't came out in force tonight. We have witnessed a major spike in arrests. It's almost like they're trying to get arrested, like something bad is brewing in the underworld and they want to get out of the way. Albion and Albert exchanged glances. They didn't need to say a word to know they were both thinking the same thing: Mr. Misery was planning something.

Boris shook his head ruefully. "And we know the havoc a single villain can wreak in an overcrowded jail. I still remember the Skunkman riots, we can't risk a repeat of that episode."

The Captain wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head. "Oh, absolutely not."

Boris frowned. "You said villains. As in both of them?"

"I know it's unorthodox, but there is the villain protocol to take into account. At the very least the little one qualifies as a henchwoman just for wearing that costume. And for all we know she might not be as innocent as she seems, she might even possess a few hidden powers. Tricking your enemies into underestimating you is the oldest trick in the villain playbook. We can't take that risk right now."

Boris agreed and The Captain sighed with relief. "Just hold them until Monday, Bearman. We should be able to clear out a corner of the jail for them by then."

So Boris guided Nightowl and Owlet to the Bearvan, and while they were all driving back to the cave, Albert congratulated Albion on his good work.

"I didn't do anything, Dad." Albion sighed.

"Didn't you? Some would say helping to catch the greatest burglar in the world was quite an achievement."

"But I didn't catch her, Viktor and Boris did, and Viktor didn't even listen to me when I told him Maria was figuring out his secret identity."

"That's not your fault, Albion. You tried to warn him. And it was very clever of you to see it in the first place. You should be proud of that."

"Yeah well, I can't very well take a picture of me being clever and hang it on the wall next to Viktor's pictures with The Captain." Albion took out his phone and pretended he was actually going to take the picture, putting on a rather sarcastic parody of Viktor's big-boy smile.

Albert smiled apologetically. "Actually, as we discussed it's not such a good idea to take pictures in the Bearcave. This place must be kept a secret. But tomorrow you can take a picture with the marble statues in the entrance."

"OK, Dad. A picture of me dusting off old statues." Albion hung his head.

"When I was a boy I used to dream of living in a house with marble statues." Said Albert, surprising Albion who was not used to consider the possibility that Albert had once been a child, let alone one that dreamed about things. Albion fell silent and Albert soon observed that the Bearvan was approaching the cave. "Let's go and make sure the dungeon is ready for our visitors."

"OK. Let's go and clean out the dungeon. I'll get the mop." Albion sighed, and went to work in silence, waiting for the heroes to return.

Wednesday - part X

It had been necessary to blindfold both villains during transport for the sake of secrecy, and in response Owlet made a fuss about not being able to do her homework. She kept lodging complaints during the walk from the bearvan to the dungeon. Nightowl tried to reassure her, but sounded like she needed reassurance herself.

"You must not fret, my poor Owlet." Nightowl said. "We must accustom ourselves to living without even the smallest comforts. Such is our fate now that justice has us in her mighty grip."

"Mom, please be quiet." Mumbled Owlet. "This is all your fault."

"In here, please, mind the door." Boris said as they arrived at the dungeon. Once inside, he instructed Viktor to remove their blindfolds.

The villains took in their new quarters. It was highest quality dungeon they could have hoped for. It had all the amenities a billionaire superhero could afford, and not only for villain surveillance and containment, but also for villain comfort. Cells were furnished with all conveniences except those that would allow communication with the outside world. Were it not for the fact that one entire side of each cell consisted of freshly polished steel bars, glinting in the cold dungeon light, each unit might have been a room in a luxury hotel.

"Is that a fridge?" Nightowl asked hopefully. "I do so worry about my poor Owlet's diet."

"You are correct." Said Boris. "Since neither of you have any particularly dangerous superpowers we will imprison you in the high-end, low-security wing. Please help yourself to the complimentary snacks. On the terminal next to the fridge you can order food to be delivered here at noon each day. You will also have limited internet access."

Albion, who was again watching through the bearcams had a feeling he knew who would be delivering those meals. He was becoming used to realization like that. But Nigthowl was inconsolable, despite the prospect of room-service. "Oh Owlet, we have lived free as birds and now we must live in cages. And your only crime was a mother who tried to give you a better life than she had. But at least we shall suffer together. Embrace your mother in our mutual misery, my dear Owlet."

Owlet jumped a small distance away from her mother. "May I have a private cell?" She pleaded, clutching her book and not even looking at Nightowl. "I really need to focus on my homework." She said apologetically and to no one in particular.

Boris cleared his throat. "Actually, young lady, since you are still a child and possibly an innocent one you are only kind of under arrest. You see, the protocol clearly states that captured villains must be kept under strict surveillance. But they were not written with such young villains in mind. So as a compromise we will let you choose which cell you want to stay in while you're here and we won't even lock it, only the outer dungeon doors."

Nightowl entered her own cell with a last heartbroken, pleading look at Owlet. As Boris locked the door closed behind her, she winced as if she had been slapped. Owlet still refused to look her in the eye and chose a cell in the far end of the dungeon. Then she tore of her Owlet mask off and threw it out of her cell with disgust. This action revealed an ordinary, small round face covered with unkempt brown hair, a small nose and eyes threatening to incinerate the Owlet mask.

"Can I have some proper clothes, please? I'm sick of this stupid costume!"

Nightowl sobbed in protest but Boris felt sympathy for the girl. How unfortunate for her to have such a mother, he thought. It was one of the few times in his life he had felt glad to be an orphan himself.

"We shall see what we can do about clothes, Owlet. Or, do you prefer another name?"

"Hedwig. My name is Hedwig." She said.

Another pitiful wail erupted from Nightowl's cell. "My Owlet has disowned me. Cast off the name her mother gave her like it was a dirty sock."

"Mom, you gave me this name too." Hedwig mumbled. "You named me after an owl."

Everyone nodded understandingly and a little while later, as Boris and Viktor closed the door to the dungeon part of the Bearcave, Boris admonished his son: "Be kind to the little one. She's an unfortunate child."

"Because she's called Hedwig?" Viktor asked.

"No, because her mother is a criminal." Boris answered. Viktor nodded solemnly.

"You can't choose your parents, Viktor." Boris added. "You would do well to remember that not everyone has had the same advantages as you."

"You can't choose your children either, Dad. Not everyone is as lucky as you are, you know." Viktor replied.

Boris patted Viktor on the head. "I know. You're a good kid, Viktor, I only wish you'd listen more carefully to instructions and be a little more humble."

Viktor nodded with satisfaction. His dad was proud of him, that was the important thing, Viktor was not a details oriented person, and sometimes Boris had a tendency to go on and on and then it was best to focus on the key part his message and sort of zone out about the rest.

"Good." Said Boris, as the dungeon door locked with a satisfying secure click. "Now we can get some rest. Hopefully we shall soon get rid of our unwelcome guests, though of course you never know when villains are involved. So I need you well rested and prepared for the worst, Viktor. You too, Albion." Boris made sure to say this into his microphone.

"Quite right, sir." Albert said. And to Albion he said. "We've earned a good night's sleep." He squinted a little and then cleared his throat. "You're a good kid, too, you know." Albert gave the equipment in the room yet another conscientious scrutiny to make sure it was in top shape.

"Thanks, Dad." Albion said, but he was not fully convinced. He felt he had not actually accomplished much apart from cleaning up the dungeon for the villains. But at least he had done that well, he thought. The dungeon had been clean and welcoming when Viktor and Boris had returned to fill it with villains. That was what he could be proud of when he went to bed that night: He had done his best to make the villains' stay in the bearcave as comfortable as it could be. He thought of Viktor handing The Mayor's chain to The Captain while Nightowl lay defeated and sobbing in the background, and he gave a small sigh.

Thursday

Later that same night Albion woke up still groggy from sleep and only halfway out of a dream where he was chased through the mansion by dusty marble statues while owls circled overhead, hooting derisively. That was partly why he felt sure that something was terribly wrong when he woke up. That, and the sensation that his entire room was shaking.

"Albion, Albion! Wake up. We have to get going."

It was Viktor's voice. Albion's head started to make sense of the commotion.

"Viktor, what's going on? Stop shaking me."

Viktor desisted and Albion's room stopped moving around. Viktor made a deliberate effort to speak slowly.

"Albion, this is our big chance." When Albion didn't seem to understand, Viktor explained himself in the voice of someone being patient with a friend who is not very bright. "There are villains in the dungeon."

Albion was suddenly wide awake, his heart pumping furiously at the prospect of imminent danger. "What villains? Have they come to rescue Nightowl? How did they find us?"

"No, you idiot. Nightowl is the villain. Her and Owlet."

Albion sighed and his heart returned to normal speed. Typical Viktor to make a big production over nothing.

"Don't call me an idiot. And you don't have to tell me Nightowl is in the dungeon. I already know that. I cleaned up her cell before you came back. It was very tiring work, so if there is no emergency I would like to go back to sleep."

Viktor repeated slowly. "There are villains in the Bearcave."

"And what am I supposed to do about it?"

Viktor looked incredulous. "Listen, Albion. How many time have we snuck into the Bearcave in the middle of the night?"

Too many to count, Albion thought. He noticed that Viktor was shaking with excitement and might not have slept at all. He was still high on the excitement of being an apprentice hero, Albion thought. He also thought he would be too, if he'd been allowed to go on missions. He yawned. "I don't know, Viktor, we've done it plenty of times."

"And how often have we done it when there were real, live villains down there?"

Albion woke up a little bit more.

"I dunno, only that once, I think. Remember Skunkman?"

Viktor frowned with displeasure.

"Yes well, how often have we been allowed to talk to them?"

"Why do you think we are allowed to talk to Nightowl?"

"Not her, Owlet. You heard how dad practically made me promise to make friends with her because she is an unfortunate child."

Albion interrupted. "He said to be nice to her."

Viktor was losing his patience. "That's what I'm saying!"

"She's probably sleeping now. Why can't you wait until tomorrow to become her friend?"

"Albion, adults don't understand how these things work. We can't very well become friends with her with Bearman staring sternly over our shoulders, telling us we can't do this and that, can we? I mean, how much fun would that be?"

Albion, in his sleepy state could not think of a good reply to this.

Viktor nodded, satisfied. "Right. So we need to do this our way. You know, have an adventure."

Albion did not feel Viktor's argument to be rock solid. He said feebly. "Do we really have to be her friends, though? I mean, she's a villain."

"Of course we do! You know, Albion, you didn't always ask this many questions before going on adventures."

"Yes I did!" Albion said. "I always asked questions."

Viktor frowned. "Hmm, perhaps you're right. I do remember you talking a lot. I just always assumed that was because you were scared."

"I'm not scared!" Albion cried, and immediately decided to go along with Viktor's plan. He got out of bed and put his clothes on. "Fine! We'll be friends with this stupid girl." He mumbled. "What's to be afraid of?"

Viktor nodded his approval, and the two of them moved to opposite sides of the big cupboard in Albion's room. Together, and as quietly as they could, they pushed the cupboard into the room until they could just squeeze behind it and find the hidden square on the wall that could be pushed to open one of the many entrances to the secret passageways.

Then Albion paused. "Wait, we can't let her see our faces. She'd figure everything out and expose us." He imagined Boris' angry yells and Albert's biting disappointment.

"Already thought of it." Viktor said, and waved two Halloween masks in front of Albion. One was a fierce-looking bear and the other was a donkey with long, floppy ears. Viktor put the bear mask on and gave Albion the donkey mask.

Albion he studied the long snout and the vacant expression. "Why do I have to be the donkey?"

"Is that one of those sensible questions you always ask?" Viktor asked. "If you must know, this was the only other mask I could find. Besides, it's only a silly mask. What does it matter?" And he crawled ahead into the secret passageways. Albion followed, reluctantly admitting that it shouldn't matter. It would just have been nice if he could have been the bear for once. But his disappointment didn't last long, soon he even forgot he was even wearing a donkey mask. As they worked their way through the dark corridors, quietly to avoid waking their fathers, and guided only by the light on their phones, Albion started to feel the old thrill of adventure enter his body again.

Thursday \- part II

They arrived at the pile of schoolbooks indicating the hidden exit to the dungeon. The chief difficulty with the secret passageways was that they really were secret, their exits and entries were unmarked and practically invisible. You needed a good idea of where look for them to find them and it had taken Albion and Viktor countless nights of exploration to locate the few they knew about. For the exit to the dungeon Viktor had felt schoolbooks were appropriate markers, as school was similar to prison. Besides, he wouldn't miss those books anyway. He ran his finger over the cover of his old algebra book. "This must be it." He whispered. "The dungeon must be right on the other side of this wall. Help me find the removable panel."

Feeling along the wall for cracks, Albion felt like they were back in the simpler times before Bring Your Child To Work Week, exploring together. And when he found the panel the excitement he felt was as fresh as ever.

"Great, Albion. Now we have to be careful not to wake Nightowl while we convince Owlet to become our friend and tell us her secrets."

Albion had thought Owlet, or Hedwig, had looked pretty ordinary. He asked Viktor. "Do you think she has many secrets?"

"Of course, she's a villain. She might even know Mr. Misery."

Albion was skeptical, because the Villain Browser said no one really knew Mr. Misery. But at the same time Albion was drawn to any prospect of finding out more about him. Helping to uncover the mystery behind Mr. Misery would be the next best thing to jumping into a bearsuit and helping to catch him. Albion followed Viktor into the dungeon, watching every shadow for hidden villains, in case Nightowl had decided to live up to her name and somehow, against all odds, escaped.

"That is Nightowl's cell." Viktor pointed. It was still securely locked.

"So Owlet will be in the other end of the dungeon." Albion said. "As far away as possible."

They moved to the furthest cell and tried the door. It was unlocked, but that was expected. As Boris had said, Owlet was only 'kind of' imprisoned. They crept inside, and Albion's foot landed on something soft. He picked it up and showed it to Viktor.

"The Owlet costume."

Viktor yanked it out of Albion's hand, and discarded it again as soon as he'd confirmed its identity. "She's here!" He whispered.

A minute later they were standing by Owlet's bunk, watching the little villain sleep. Albion briefly thought of the first villain they'd caught, The Creep, who had also stared at sleeping people. But this was different, they were heroes. Viktor grabbed Hedwig's elbow, and Albion automatically grabbed the other. Owlet woke up with an astonished cry.

"Keep it down if you don't want to wake up your mom and spoil everything." Viktor whispered.

Owlet looked from one intruder to the other. Apparently she did not want to wake up her mother any more than they did, because she did not make any loud noise. She hissed. "Who are you? What are you doing in my cell?

"I am Bearboy. And this is my butler." Viktor pointed to Albion, who was too astounded by this introduction to object to it. "We have come to be your friends."

Owlet looked skeptical. "You put me in prison. Bad start."

"We weren't friends at that point." Viktor explained. "But now we are. We want you to know that you are not alone, and if you need anyone to tell your secrets to, we are here to listen."

Owlet smiled bitterly. "So this is an interrogation. You interrupt my sleep to soften me up. I've read about this form of torture. This is illegal." Viktor shook his head and Owlet could see he was about to argue. She quickly said. "But you're in luck, because I don't even care anymore. I'll confess to anything you want and go away to prison. As long as I never have to see Mom again."

"Relax, Owlet." Viktor said. "We're not going to force a confession out of you. We just want to know your best villain stories."

Owlet scoffed. "My name is Hedwig, and I don't have any good villain stories."

Viktor looked skeptically at Albion, who shrugged. Maybe she was just an unfortunate girl, as Boris had said.

Hedwig observed their disappointment with satisfaction, then she sat up and added. "Villain stories are never good, you know, they are always terrible. I do have a terrible villain story I could tell: The story of my life. I mean, if you're interested?"

Thursday - part III

Albion and Viktor leaned closer and assured Hedwig that they very much wanted to hear her villain story. She waved them away. "I'll tell you. But I need a moment to get dressed."

Viktor and Albion waited impatiently outside until Hedwig had dressed in some of Albion's old clothes, brought down earlier by Albert. Albion had been sad to see his clothes ruined, as they surely would be by being worn by a villain. It was yet another sacrifice he had been forced to make that week. But as Hedwig told her story, Albion was reminded that he did not have it so bad after all, and he almost felt a kind of kinship with Hedwig. Both of them had been dragged into jobs they had not asked for and did not want. And clearly Hedwig also liked homework. This made Albion considered that they might even be kindred spirits.

"My mother was not always Nightowl." Hedwig told them. "She was a custodian at an art-gallery, where she was trying to exhibit her own paintings. But they did not approve of her artistic vision. Mom would not change her style for anyone, she just tried even harder. She tried so hard and had so little success that her colleagues started to feel bad for her. They were uncomfortable to see her so unsuccessful, so they convinced the owner of the gallery to fire her so they wouldn't have to see her again."

Albion interrupted the tale. "What kind of paintings did she paint?" Viktor looked at him like he was missing the whole point of the villain story.

But Hedwig answered. "She painted owl." And she added sadly. "Of course."

"Just owls?"

"Always. They are wise and calm creatures whose eyes pierce the shallow judgements of the modern world."

"Oh." Albion had never thought of owls that ways.

"Anyway, that's what Mom told me. She said that she and I had a secret bond with the wisdom of owls that nobody else understood." Hedwig's eyes moistened, and Albion become worried she was going to cry, but she fought and held back the tears.

"So what happened then?" Viktor asked.

"The well-dressed man." Hedwig said, and she no longer looked close to tears, she seemed a lot more angry and frightened than sad.

"The Well Dressed Man?" Viktor looked at Albion, who shrugged his shoulders. It sounded like a villain name but Albion didn't remember seeing it before. Of course, there were many names in the villain browser and Albion had not had long to study it. He wished he had the villain browser at his fingertips right then. Or that Albert was in the control room and Albion had a microphone so he could ask him. Except, as Albion realized with disconcerting certainly, Albert would never approve of them sneaking down and talking to Hedwig in the middle of the night. They were on their own.

"So, who is this Well Dressed Man?" Albion asked.

"I don't really know. I didn't see him often, but he rescued my mother from her great depression after she lost her job. From the first time they met, just after she was fired, she was like a different person. She started working for the well-dressed man, and his boss."

"His boss?" Viktor almost whispered, because the boss of a villain's boss had to be a very big and important villain.

Hedwig paused, before saying in a whisper, like the very name was dangerous. "They called him Mr. Misery."

Viktor smiled with satisfaction, Albion remembered again the threatening poem and became instantly worried. It seemed Mr. Misery was everywhere, and yet they still had no idea where to find him. "Did you ever see Mr. Misery?" Albion asked.

Hedwig shook her head. "I only heard my mother speak of him, whenever she tried to explain why we had to keep being villains. Why we couldn't escape. There was no escaping Mr. Misery."

"Wait, you didn't want to be villains anymore?" Viktor asked, genuinely confused. He believed in being a villain the same way he believed in being a hero. That it was a destiny, not a choice. That it was a quality people either had or did not, and which they could no sooner deny or put away than they could deny their parents, something else that seemed utterly impossible to Viktor.

"We never wanted to be villains. But the Well-Dressed Man and Mr. Misery tricked us. They warped my mother's thoughts somehow. Her first job was stealing from the gallery where she used to work, and where she knew all about the security. She only did it for revenge and I think she thought it would be only that once, but it turned out Mom had a talent for burglary and the Well-Dressed Man encouraged her to develop it. He taught her that stealing was a form of art. This inspired Mom's worst idea. She replaced the stolen works with her own paintings. Her new bosses loved this idea because they thought it would horrify and demoralize all the real artists. But I guess you already know about this coup?"

When both Viktor and Albion confessed they did not, Hedwig actually looked disappointed.

"You've never heard of the most spectacular art-theft in The City's history? Bearman didn't tell you about that?

They shook their heads apologetically.

"I guess Bearman was embarrassed he couldn't catch her, that's why he didn't mention it."

"Hah!" Said Viktor. "I bet he was busy catching much worse villains than that. Right Albion?"

Albion nodded uncertainly. He remembered that Frogman had tried to catch Nightowl at some point, but he didn't know what Boris had been doing at the time.

"Anyway, it was a very famous heist." Hedwig concluded.

"But they must have known it was her paintings." Albion objected. "She was giving herself away."

"Yes." Hedwig said. "From that day we were on the run, but at least we were no longer poor. The well-dressed man told my mother that everything she lacked in talent and vision when it came to painting she made up for in trickery and guile when it came to breaking and entering. This made her very proud. The well-dressed man convinced her she could only ever realize her full potential if she committed herself to villainy. To being a true villain, his villain. She couldn't resist."

"But you said you never wanted to be villains." Viktor Said.

"He manipulated her!" Hedwig said. "When she substituted the precious artworks for her own owl paintings she still hoped someone would finally appreciate her work. I'm sure that's why she agreed to do it in the first place. But nobody liked it, and the critics butchered it mercilessly. Mom was so angry that she started spitefully leaving owl paintings whenever she burgled. It became her calling card."

"She didn't bring a painting to City hall." Said Albion.

"Eventually she ran out." Hedwig said. " And when she became Nightowl she stopped making new ones."

The room fell quiet until Viktor broke the spell. "So when did your mom meet Mr. Misery?"

Hedwig thought it over for a moment. "I don't know if she ever did. She told me that the well- dressed man worked for an even more powerful villain than himself, and that she was in so deep that she would have to be Nightowl for as long as Mr. Misery commanded."

"But if she was tricked and forced, why did she get you involved?" Asked Albion. "She couldn't want you to follow in her footsteps?"

Hedwig didn't answer at once and when she did speak her voice was almost inaudible. "I think she has forgotten who she was before she became Nightowl. Like, I don't know if she's even really my mom anymore. That's why I need to get away. Before I become like her. That's why I always try to follow all the rules and do all my homework."

Finally the tears came. Albion didn't know how to respond to that, but Viktor seemed as sure of himself as ever. "There, there." He said. "Would you like to play some video games?"

Albion felt certain this could not be the right thing to say to someone whose Mom had just been arrested and might have been turned into a different person. But Hedwig dried her eyes and stopped sobbing. "What kind of video games?"

"I have so many." Said Viktor proudly. "I have Death Race 2025, I have Zompires IV, that's about zombie vampires..."

"I know what Zompires are." Hedwig said contemptuously. "Are you any good at Death Race 2025?"

Viktor smiled confidently. "I always beat my butler."

This time Albion was prepared. He cleared his throat discreetly. "I'm actually not your butler, just so you know."

Viktor and Hedwig looked at him like they were both just remembering he was there.

Hedwig asked. "Who are you then, actually?"

"Um..." Albion said, somehow at a loss how to answer that question. Who was he, actually? He thought it was ungrateful to pose such difficult questions to someone whose clothes you were wearing. He fumbled for words. "I mean...Um..."

"He's Dad's butler, really." Viktor explained, and Hedwig nodded understandingly.

Albion silently had to agree that was more or less true. Certainly his dad was Boris' butler and Albion was going to work learning that trade from his dad. Albion finally mumbled his agreement, but Hedwig and Viktor were no longer listening. They were discussing the details of Death Race 2025, whether the best strategy was extra speed or extra ammunition.

"Well if you're so sure, why don't you prove it?" Said Hedwig. "I challenge you to a duel."

Because Albion had not entirely recovered from feeling unimportant and ignored he didn't protest that it didn't sound like a wise plan to bring a stranger upstairs to their rooms, especially one with connections to the underworld. Viktor was clearly free from worries, he broke into a happy smile and his eyes lit up. "You're on, villain girl."

Thursday \- part IV

Viktor led Hedwig out of the cell, and Albion shuffled after them, glancing at the book in Hedwig's hand.

"Why are you bringing your homework, Hedwig?"

"I just told you, it's really important to me." She said, and addressing Viktor. "The door is the other way, where are we going?"

"Just wait and see." Viktor said. He led her to where Albion had left a flashlight right underneath the moveable panel in the wall. Viktor quickly found the way in.

Hedwig nodded appreciatively. "A secret door."

"It's not just a door." Viktor assured her. "It's a whole network of secret passages. You can get anywhere in the mansion from here."

Albion pulled Viktor back. "Maybe we should be careful what we say." Albion whispered. She was the one who was supposed to be blurting out secrets to them.

"He's right." Said Hedwig, who had apparently overhead. "We don't want to wake up my mother or your father."

"Oh definitely not." Viktor answered, now in a whisper. "Dad would be mad. He keeps telling me not to play Deathrace in the middle of the night."

Hedwig glanced at Albion. "Thanks for the reminder, Butlerboy." To Viktor she said: "I wish I had a butler."

"While you're here you can borrow mine." Viktor offered.

"No she can't!" Albion hissed. He wanted to tell her his name was not Butlerboy but since he couldn't let her know his real name he didn't know what she should call him. It would be just what he needed after not knowing who he was, not even knowing his own name. He would look like a complete fool again.

Hedwig smiled. "Don't worry, Butlerboy, we're only joking."

"Yeah. Only joking." Said Viktor. "Relax." Viktor led them into the passageways and showed off his knowledge to Hedwig, who acted duly impressed.

"How do you know which way to take?" She asked at an intersection of passages. "Every direction looks the same."

"You just have to know." Viktor said. "For example, that way goes further into the Bearcave, while that way gets you out into the grounds, but there are side passages to the kitchen and the staff quarters as well - it's the least interesting direction. On the other hand, this one goes to the attic, but then it becomes a maze. If you don't know your way around here you're bound to get lost."

Albion, in last position, followed silently, feeling more and more that this was a terrible idea he should never have gone along with. Viktor seemed free of worries.

"Are you not scared to go in here alone? It's so dark." Hedwig asked.

"Oh no, I know these passages like the back of my hand." Viktor replied

"I guess if I had a butler I shouldn't be scared either." Said Hedwig. Then she pointed down a side passage they had just passed. "What's down there?"

"Oh that's boring." Viktor explained. "That's where the Bearsuits are washed. You know, when they get greasy or something. The butlers take care of all that."

Albion sighed. He hoped this video game challenge would not last long. The sooner they could get Hedwig back to her cell the better, as far as he was concerned. Finally they arrived, rubbing their knees, because the secret passage of the mansion were often so low it became necessary to crawl. Hedwig looked around Viktor's room with great interest. It was a large room, but it looked cramped because of all the stuff strewn about or tidied up in a haphazard manner. Viktor believed, among other things, in putting all dirty clothes in one pile and all clean clothes in another. He also believed that if a video game was within reaching distance it was pretty much where it ought to be, whether that was on the shelf, the bed or the floor. Albion thought Hedwig took a particular interest in the window, and he was glad it was raining and dark outside. Viktor didn't notice her interest in escape routes because he had just remembered that his room was littered with drawings of superheroes which he now quickly collected and stuffed under the bed. Then he threw a couple of pillows on the floor next to the gaming console. "Take a seat and meet your doom."

Thursday - part V

Within five minutes Viktor was cheering triumphantly. "And that's why you always pick more ammunition!"

Hedwig immediately demanded a rematch. Five minutes more and Viktor was Hooting again.

"You're good." Said Hedwig.

"I know, so don't feel bad about losing to me." Said Viktor.

"Right, but I've got you figured out now, I will win next time." Hedwig said. "But I need to use the bathroom first."

"Already?" Albion asked. This was getting worse and worse, now she wanted to be let out into the hallway and who knew what she might see there, or if she might use the opportunity to try to escape.

"You literarily just woke me up and dragged me up here straight from bed. I didn't have time before."

Albion pulled Viktor aside "I don't think this is a good idea." He whispered. "She has already seen more of the mansion that she should have. Besides, we might wake somebody up if she runs up and down the hall."

"We'll stand guard outside the bathroom then. And it's dark so she won't see a thing." Viktor said. Then he motioned for Hedwig to follow him.

"You're bringing your homework?" Albion asked.

She looked embarrassed. "I like to read in the bathroom." She said.

"My butler also reads all the time." Viktor assured her. "It's perfectly normal." So they crept quietly down to the bathroom and Viktor and Albion waited outside. Albion had to admit she had not tried to escape although she had been squinting around and trying to see as much as she could. Maybe she was just trying to see where she was going in the dark hallway, but Albion still felt uncomfortable. He was now sure that letting her out of the dungeon had been a huge mistake, but he had gone along with it and now he had to help to see it through before anything catastrophic happened.

"She's taking a long time." Albion remarked.

"Stop worrying about everything." Said Viktor. "You can play the next game."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Albion said. He took a deep breath because he knew Viktor would not want to hear what he was about to say. "I mean, you keep telling her things. I am worried you will say too much."

"When have I ever done that?" Viktor replied, but before Albion had thought of all the times to mention, the bathroom door opened just enough for Hedwig's head to peek out.

"All clear?" She asked. "Let's go back."

Albion had to admit Hedwig didn't seem eager to snoop around or make trouble. She seemed tired, yawning several times, and Albion though with relief that she seemed nearly ready to go back to sleep. But Viktor insisted Albion and Hedwig should now play Deathrace, acting like a generous and considerate host. Albion reluctant agreed, and the next two matches lasted little more than ten minutes each. Albion won both times, but Viktor immediately took credit for the victories.

"Don't feel bad about losing to him either, Hedwig. I've taught him everything he knows."

It was partly true. Albion didn't have a Deathrace game of his own to practice on, while Viktor did. So Albion didn't feel bad at taking longer to defeat Hedwig than Viktor had. He was actually surprised at how easy it had been.

"How much Deathrace 2025 have you played before, Hedwig?" He asked.

A flash of annoyance passed over her face before it settled into a sad, defeated expression.

"I don't have the game at home." She said. "I have only played in other people's houses. You know, while mom is stealing their paintings."

Viktor gave Albion a chiding look, for reminding their guest of her troubled home life.

"It's alright, you don't have to think about that now." Viktor said. "Let's play some more, I can teach you a few moves. Would you like that?"

Hedwig nodded, and Viktor indicated for Albion to scoot over.

"But I thought Nightowl was the greatest burglar in the world? Why didn't she just steal a game for you?" Albion said.

This moved Hedwig nearly to tears. "She would, except the well-dressed man took it all for himself and Mr. Misery."

Albion frowned. "What does Mr. Misery want a game for? Does he play Deathrace 2025?" It was a long shot, but any information they could get about Mr. Misery and his hobbies would be useful.

"Oh I don't know what he wants. Money for his evil schemes, I suppose. It wasn't like they ever told me anything - and I didn't ask - I never wanted to be a part of this!"

Hedwig's voice was rising. Viktor and Albion shushed her in unison.

She took a deep breath. "Sorry about that. I guess I'm still stressed out about Mom and me being in prison. You know, it's not easy to lose hope when you're as young as I am." She paused, staring tragically into the darkness. Then she said quietly. "I think I should go back to my cell now."

Albion nodded solemnly, but Viktor argued. "We can play another game. Games are a great way to forget about all that bad stuff. How about slaying some Zompires, that's always fun, right?"

But Hedwig looked like she had lost all desire to slay Zompires or destroy cars. She looked like she had just remembered that this was the worst day of her life.

"I can't play videogames all night anymore." She said. "Mom and I are in prison and that part of my life is over. Thank you for letting me play your game, but I would really like to go back to my cell now." She clutched her book of homework inconsolably to her chest, as if she feared that in the end someone would take even that from her, and finally Viktor reluctantly agreed they had no choice but to lead her back.

"Why did you have to scare her off like that?" Viktor asked when they were alone again and back upstairs.

Albion fired back. "Why did you have to keep calling me your butler? And why did you let her see the mansion? She isn't supposed to know about that."

"I was gaining her confidence." Viktor said. "Once I'd made her trust us she'd have told us anything we wanted to know. But now you've ruined it and we'll be lucky if we get another chance tomorrow."

"I ruined it?" Albion hissed. "You didn't even notice how she pretended to be interested in Deathrace but played like she had never seen the game before."

"It just looked that way because she was playing against me." Viktor said.

"It was the same when she played against me." Albion retorted.

"Well I've taught you a lot about that game."

"And she's always clutching her book." Albion said. "There's something suspicious about that."

A little superior smile curled Viktor's lips upward.

"I think you're just jealous because I was better at making friends with Hedwig than you were."

"That's not true!"

"You were jealous because even though she is a book nerd she liked me the best."

"You think everything is about you, Viktor. You don't ever think of other people. But you know what, it's not! And besides, I'm done being your butler."

Albion ran back to his own room and threw himself on his bed. He tossed and turned, as angry as the thunder that was now raging outside. It took him a long time to fall asleep.

Thursday \- part VI

Albion had barely found rest before he was jolted awake for the second time that night. This time, it was not Viktor that woke him up but the ominous wailing of a siren. Albion knew the sound of the fire alarm but this was different. He had no idea what it meant but it could not be good. He jumped out of bed, made for the door and reached the hallway almost simultaneously with Viktor.

"What's going on?"

"Dunno."

They ran down the hall to their fathers' bedrooms and burst in without knocking. They found both parents up in Boris' room. Boris was putting on the emergency Bearsuit, which he kept in reserve in a hidden closet, for use when there was no time or opportunity to reach the Bearcave. Albert was helping him fasten the last pieces of the suit.

"Hello boys." Boris said. "Good to see you."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Can't say, son. But while I find out, you two will stay here with Albert."

"But Dad..."

"Not now, Viktor! For once, just do as I say." From his tense voice, both Viktor and Albion could tell that whatever was going on had to be really serious. So when Boris left, the boys sat anxiously down on the bed and waited for him to come back.

"Dad, what was that alarm?" Albion asked.

"It was the Bearcave alarm. It means a breach of security."

"Somebody's broken into the cave?" Viktor said. "We've got to go and help dad."

"You've got to stay right here where you're safe, while your father investigates." Albert answered. "Hopefully he will find out we're merely dealing with an intrepid raccoon." Albert didn't sound at all convinced that was it.

"But what if it's a villain?" Albion asked.

"Boris has plenty experience dealing with villains." Albert assured them, and together they waited with straining ears until they heard footsteps approaching. Loud, angry footsteps.

The door burst open and slammed against the wall. Boris was in the doorway, and even with the mask still one it was easy to tell he was furious.

"The dungeon is empty." He said. "Nightowl has escaped."

Albion froze. "What about Hedwig? I mean Owlet."

"The girl is gone too."

Everyone followed Boris down to the cells. They found Nightowl's cell not just empty but vandalized. Several of the steel bars making up one wall were bent out of shape, enough to allow a small person to comfortably step through and out into freedom.

"This has required tremendous strength." Said Albert.

"But Nightowl does not have super strength." Albion said. "The villain database said so."

"Sometimes it's incomplete." Said Albert, cautiously. Then a thought seemed to strike him. He rushed out of the dungeon and returned out of breath a short while later.

"The other Bearsuit's gone, Sir. I left it in the washing station after last night, along with the Bearboy suit." He paused for just a second. "Both suits are gone."

Viktor was horrified. "They stole my suit?" He looked appealingly at Boris, as if expecting him to say that such a thing was as utterly outrageous and impossible as it sounded.

"The Bearboy suit does not have sufficient power to do this." Boris said. "But the Bearman suit does. Though it would be amazing if someone who had no experience wearing it could do this on their first try." He sounded almost impressed. "But it's a possibility, the only one I can think of right now. The girl could've snuck the suit into Nightowl's cell, and Nightowl could have used it to escape. But what I can't understand is how the girl would have gotten her hands on the suit in the first place. Her cell was open but the dungeon was securely locked. How did she get out of the dungeon and into the Bearcave?"

Albion felt his stomach turn to ice as Albert observed that the dungeon door was intact, and in fact still securely locked. From all appearances the villains could not have left the dungeon at all. Unless, of course, one of them had found some secret way out. Albion and Viktor looked at each other briefly, before both averting their eyes. Then Albion cleared his throat and, feeling dizzy, prepared to supply Boris and Albert with the missing piece of the puzzle.

Thursday - part VII

It was one of those occasions where Boris' eyebrows said more than his words. He had removed his mask while Albion explained, and when the story was over the eyebrows hung wearily, threatening to slide off from sheer disappointment. Albion and Viktor had expected Boris to threaten them with various punishments to see which one made the strongest impression, but he did not even yell. He told them in a tired voice to go back to sleep. Viktor and Albion had a strong desire to make more explanations, to keep talking until they no longer felt so bad, but not even Viktor could think of anything to say that would not now sound incredibly stupid. They both did as they were told and went back to bed.

There were only a few hours of uneasy sleep left to catch before morning, but neither Viktor nor Albion managed to fall asleep. Each lay in his room, staring at the wall or the ceiling, whichever seemed the bleakest and most barren at the time. Under different circumstances they might have convened for a strategy meeting, but not this time. They knew it was worse than any time that had come before, so bad that even Viktor didn't dare to think he could make it all right. The only hope was that Boris would catch the escaped villains quickly. Maybe then the worst that would happen was that Viktor and Albion would be grounded forever. Otherwise, who knew?

Next morning they descended together for breakfast, avoiding each other's eyes, and found their parents waiting for them. An unusually sparse meal was on the table. There was no salmon and only whatever berries had not been eaten the day before. But there was something else on the table: a book, smeared with dirt and what appeared to be a lone straw of grass poking out from between the pages. Boris was still in his Bearman suit. He cleared his throat as the boys sat down: "We found this in the garden, near the exit of the tunnel to the staff quarters." He indicated the book. "No sign of the villains, but I presume this was the book the girl was holding on to last night. You two should be able to confirm that since you had some time to make her acquaintance."

In the embarrassed silence that followed this reminder of their guilt, Albion gingerly picked up the book like he was afraid to ruin that too and after a brief study handed it on to Viktor.

"It's her book." Albion confirmed, and Viktor nodded.

"There is a map of sorts sketched in there." Said Albert. "It appears to correspond to a general layout of the tunnels and the ways between the walls of this mansion."

Boris nodded. "We thought it might have been one of you two who had drawn it and lost it." Albion nearly protested that they would not be so irresponsible, but he caught himself. After all, they had done much worse. Albion was choked with shame, and even Viktor found the berries at the table much harder to swallow than usual. Boris nodded like he had read Albion's mind, and went on. "At least now we know exactly how the villains escaped."

That deceitful Owlet, Albion thought bitterly. She had tricked them from the beginning. She had played on their sympathy, no doubt laughing to herself all the while. And maybe they deserved to be laughed at. They had been fools, falling right into the trap.

"I assume I don't have to spell out how serious this is." Boris said. "We can take it for granted that Nightowl has figured out where she was held captive, and therefore knows who we are. And we might as well assume that if she hasn't shared this knowledge with Mr. Misery already, it won't be long before she does. Gentlemen, we have been unmasked."

Boris looked around the room and let the gravity of the situation sink in. To Albion it felt as if a knife that had already been plunged into his chest was given another push toward his heart. Viktor had stopped chewing altogether. He looked like he couldn't quite comprehend what Boris had just said.

"So what are we going to do?" Albion asked in a hoarse, cracking voice. His mouth was so dry he thought he didn't have enough moisture left to form tears. Otherwise he would have cried.

"There is a slim hope we might apprehend Nightowl before she can contact her associates. We have the Flying Bears out to look for her. But it's a long shot."

Albion looked up. "The Bearsuit has radio transmitters. Can't you use them to track its location?"

Albert gave a thin smile and shook his head. "We have tried. We think Nightowl has taken countermeasures. I don't know how she has managed it, but we have to accept that she is a more formidable opponent than we first thought. As incredible as it seems, she must have planned this whole operation out beforehand."

"The greatest burglar in the world." Albion croaked. The villain database had not lied to them, but they had not paid enough attention to what it told them, and now Nightowl had indeed made the greatest coup of her career. She had stolen the Bearsuit and uncovered their secret identities. It was about as humiliating a setback as could be imagined for a superhero.

"If we don't catch her, I shall have to tell The Captain everything." Said Boris. "And The Mayor too." He cringed. "I don't know how I can face her at The City Hall Charity Ball tomorrow. Or at any other time, for that matter. I have let my city down."

Boris' pain was more fuel for Albion's guilt, which was already burning at full flame. Their parents had trusted Viktor and him to assist with 'emergencies at work' and this trust had proven catastrophically misplaced. It had not even taken them the whole week to cause Bearman and Albert their greatest defeat. They had done it in a mere four days.

Thursday - part VIII

One by one, the flying Bears came back with no news of Nightowl and when it became impossible to deny that the trail had grown cold Boris called a mansion meeting. Albion had sat in his room the whole morning, fidgeting and hoping for a miracle. When he came downstairs for the meeting, he saw Boris was still in the emergency Bearman suit and looked grim. Albion wondered briefly if the shock of losing the ordinary suit had been so great than Boris would never again dare take the emergency suit off. If he was just going to be Bearman all the time from now on. At least Boris had taken the mask off for the meeting.

"Where's Viktor?" Boris asked when he saw Albion. Albion couldn't say because Viktor and Albion had not spoken a word to each other since breakfast. Albion was about to confess that he would be of no help to them yet again, when he heard Viktor's subdued voice behind him.

"I'm here, Dad." Albion turned around and almost didn't recognize Viktor. He looked pale and, though it was almost impossible to believe, unsure of himself. Viktor looked the furthest from producing a big-boy smile that Albion had ever seen him.

"Now boys." Said Boris. "I don't like what I'm about to say and neither will you, but you're going to have to trust that's it's for your own good. You may not believe it, but know that this will be as painful for me and Albert as it will be for you. We have twisted our minds to find another way, but have found none. This is the very last resort."

In a way it was a relief. However bad the punishment was, it had to be better than what they were already going through. Boris cleared his throat. "We're not going to punish you. We have decided that we are as much to blame as you are, because we gave you more responsibility than you were ready for."

More shame washed over both of them, especially Viktor. He would certainly have preferred a sentence of dusting off marble statues every day for the rest of his life rather than being unworthy to be a hero.

"You have to understand that we are up against dangerous villains." Said Boris. "Villains who would have no scruples targeting our families. In fact, someone like Mr. Misery would love nothing better, you've read his poem. He wants to make everybody as miserable as he is and he knows the best way is through our loved ones. Now that he knows our true identities he will know how to do that. No day at school, no trip to a friend's house or to the supermarket, no soccer practice or afternoon at home will be safe for you here."

An ill-boding silence fell around the table. Boris took a deep breath. "That's why you can't live with us anymore."

Albion looked at Albert, who nodded gravely. Boris and he had obviously discussed this at length before the meeting.

"Dad, I don't understand." Said Viktor.

"We will send you to a very good boarding school. You will have the best of everything there. You will get new names and new identities. It might take some time to get used to but it's for the best." Small tears made their way out of the corner of Boris' eyes as he spoke.

"You won't come with us?" Albion looked from Boris to Albert.

Boris looked back at Albion with much sadness and regret, like Boris had been the one to let Albion down. It also seemed something was stuck In Boris' throat, so Albert answered the question. "Boris is too famous a person to hide anywhere. A new name would do him no good. Mr. Bjorn and I will have to stay behind and take up the fight, unmasked or not. We must dedicate every hour of every day to bringing Mr. Misery to justice. It will not be easy or quick, that goes without saying. But it's the only way keep you safe in the long run."

Boris had recovered enough to add: "It's the only way. Believe me, we have tried to think of any other possibility. We know we're asking for more than what's fair of you. We are asking for bravery and determination that you didn't know you possessed, that you don't think you can muster, but that we ask you to muster nonetheless."

When Boris stopped speaking the whole mansion was quiet as the grave. The only sound was the old clock in the drawing room, ticking away the seconds, like a bomb ticking towards the explosion of their lives into separate pieces. Albion stared down on the fine wooden table in the drawing room where they had all eaten breakfast together for as long as he could remember. That table was as familiar as his own room, his clothes or his hands and feet. Now he would be torn away from all of those things, and if his return depended on catching Mr. Misery there was no telling when it would happen, as Mr. Misery had been around for a long time already and never been caught so far.

Thursday \- part IX

The one good thing about the situation was that it proved impossible for Albion and Viktor to remain hostile to each other. When they were sent away to a strange school they would lose their home, friends and parents and all they would have left would be each other. They both realized this during the long walk back to their rooms, and the realization stopped them outside their doors.

Albion spoke first. "Do you think there is a way out?"

"No." Said Viktor.

Albion had hoped for something more encouraging. He had thought Viktor would have a plan. Probably an impossible plan, but a plan nonetheless. "But we can't just let this happen!" Albion walked over to Viktor's door. "We can't let the villains win!"

Viktor sighed. "I have something to show you."

Albion followed Viktor into his room. Viktor sat listlessly down on his bed. He threw his phone to Albion.

"What?" Albion said.

"I got this a couple of hours ago."

Albion saw a text message from Maria O'Malley.

"Read it. You'll see."

So Albion read the brief exchange.

"I don't get it. She says she knows you're Bearboy and wants to give you a chance to comment before she publishes her scoop."

"Yeah, that's it."

"So what? The villains already know our identities. They could tell everyone at any time. Maria is too late."

"Don't you see, Albion? It's just like you said. You saw that Maria was on to me but I didn't listen to you. Now she has figured me out because of my stupid big-boy smile."

Albion had actually forgotten about that. Viktor refusing to listen had been one of the things Albion had been fed up with about him, but although it happened only yesterday it already felt like a previous, better life. A luxury problem compared to their orphan-like future far from home.

"It hardly matters now, does it?"

Viktor grimaced. "You don't understand."

"What's to understand, except how to catch Mr. Misery and not be sent away even if our secret identities are no longer secret?"

"The point is." Said Viktor. "Even if I hadn't let that Owlet trick us." Here Viktor stopped and mumbled bitterly, "Stupid Hedwig." He took a deep breath. "Even if I hadn't let her trick me into showing her how to escape, I would still have made a mess of things." Viktor looked at Albion with a very serious face. "If I hadn't woken you up to make friends with Owlet, Nightowl would never have escaped, isn't that right?"

"I went along with your plan, Viktor. It was my fault too."

Viktor waved the objection aside a little too quickly for Albion's liking, as if his contribution to their failure did not even count. Not that he was proud of his contribution, but he felt it still ought to be acknowledged.

"It was my idea." Viktor said. "But even if I hadn't done that, it's like I had a backup plan to ensure complete failure no matter what." Viktor pointed to the phone. "Let's face it, I was the worst Bearboy Dad could've had. Maybe it's better if I get sent away."

Albion did not know how to respond. He was dealing with a despondent Viktor, something he had no experience with. For minutes they sat in silence while the rain kept beating against the windows as it had done all night.

"At least they got really wet when they escaped." Albion said. "Like, soaked."

Viktor shook his head. "The Bearsuits are waterproof."

"Ah." Said Albion. He should have known that too. Maybe he should have listened more closely to Albert. Maybe he should have been a better Butlerboy.

"Listen Viktor, I need you to help me." Albion said. "We have to catch Nightowl, we have to defeat Mr. Misery, and we have to regain the trust of our parents."

Viktor smiled, but it was the smile of an older and wiser boy for a young and hopelessly optimistic friend. "I wish I could help you, Albion, but I'm afraid I would only make things worse. That's what I do."

"That's just what Mr. Misery wants you to think. Remember, he just wants to make everyone as miserable as he is."

"Stupid Mr. Misery." Viktor grumbled. "Why did he have to get involved in the first place? Couldn't he have waited until we had a little more experience? That would have shown more sportsmanship."

"Yeah!" Albion said, encouraged, because he sensed a hint of fighting spirit in those remarks. It was much was better for Viktor to blame Mr. Misery than himself. It would be alright if Viktor would blame himself more in the future, in general, when there was better time for it, but now they needed a plan.

"You know, I actually can't believe we're losing to a villain who writes threatening poetry in his spare time." Viktor remarked. Albion considered that remark another good sign. Then he smacked his palm again his own forehead. "Viktor, the poem from Mr. Misery! Do you remember what it said?"

Viktor shrugged indifferently, but Albion pulled out his phone.

"Listen to this. Heroes rise and heroes fall, heroes falter and villains stand tall. Soon you too shall hear the hooting call that spells your downfall!" Albion yelled hooting call and downfall so loud Viktor winced and frowned at his friend. Albion continued unabashed. "It also says. Your embarrassment shall be monumental." Albion looked up triumphantly.

It was Viktor's turn not to understand. "So what?"

"Don't you see? This is all part of Mr. Misery's plan. Us being tricked by Nightowl and Owlet. You feeling bad, and Boris feeling bad, and me feeling bad, and..."

Viktor stopped it. "Yeah I get it, we all feel bad."

"...and that's what Mr. Misery wants. The poem speaks for itself. He had this all planned out. Viktor, now that we know that, we really can't let him win. You must agree that we have to stay and fight."

Viktor considered this for a moment while something seemed to be moving in him. "So you're saying he tricked us?"

"Yeah."

"And he's a supervillain, so he's really good at tricking people. In other words, what you're saying is that I'm not an idiot after all?"

"Um, yes." Albion said.

"Because Mr. Misery is probably a genius, so getting tricked by him could've happened to anyone, right?"

"Sure. And now we have to stop him."

"So I only made one mistake. Getting tricked by Maria." Viktor thought about this. "Everybody makes one mistake every once in a while."

"Yes yes, Viktor. But you're forgetting we have to stop Mr. Misery right now! Before we get sent to the orphanage, I mean boarding school."

"But what can we do? I don't even have a Bearboy suit anymore. Thanks to stupid Owlet!"

"Maybe so." Albion had an encouraging idea. "But I know how to make a bearsuit."

Now Viktor stood to attention. He looked skeptically at Albion. "You do?"

"Yes, we stitch all the pieces together in the sewing room." Albert had showed the sewing and making room to him and told him something about the machines in there. Albion had not listened as closely as he should at the time because that was when he had still been upset that only Viktor got to be Bearboy. He regretted that now, but the important thing was that they were forming a plan.

Viktor got off the bed and paced up and down the room. "Albion, if you can get me another suit I promise I'll never doubt you again."

This prospect made Albion all the more confident he would figure out the machines and somehow foil Mr. Misery's plans after all. He just had to. "Let's go, Viktor." Albion said, almost jumping up and down with heroic energy. "We have bearsuits to make."

Thursday \- part X

The plan started off well. Boris and Albert believed the boys needed some time to themselves to understand what was happening, while the adults had other pressing matters they needed to attend to. Boris had struggled to tell The Captain and The Mayor about the disaster of the stolen Bearsuits and the danger now faced from Bearsuit-enhanced villains. Going against Albert's advice, Boris had indefinitely postponed informing their allies and was instead making another desperate sweep of The City to locate the stolen suits. So he was out of the house while Albert was confined to the control room to assist him. Consequently, Viktor and Albion were free to sneak around as they pleased.

Viktor and Albion made their way to the sewing room of the Bearcave without issues, but there they encountered the problem of how to actually build a superhero suit. Rummaging through the closets and the shelf in the back of the room, they found scraps of Bear-grade fabric, trauma resistant hide, strength-enhancing filaments and fire-proof fur, not to mention a kind of buffet of electronic equipment, gadgets and components that could very conceivably be combined into an awesome Bearsuit, if one could figure out how they all fit together - and operate the machines that did the fitting. Albion wished he had paid more attention when Albert had introduced the room on Monday. He even wished he had asked a few inspired questions and requested a demonstration. In possession of all the pieces of the puzzle but with only the faintest idea of how they fit together, he was ready to admit that assembling a Bearsuit was something of a heroic task in itself.

Still the boys had hope thanks to the plan they'd made, so they could not abandon that plan. Where would that lead but to giving up hope again as well? They put their minds and hands to work. They fought for hours, but when those hours had passed they were still more or less where they had started: With a lot of Bearsuit components but no Bearsuit.

"This is a waste of time!" Cried Viktor. He kicked a piece of reinforced hide as hard as he could and hurt his toes against it. He bent down to rub them. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"What happened to never doubting me again?"

"What happened to making my suit?"

Albion sighed. He realized he had gravely underestimated the task.

Still more hours passed and they were both tired and hungry but they had managed to produce something that looked passably like one leg of a small Bearsuit to show for their efforts. Or maybe it was an arm for a large Bearsuit, it was hard to tell. A few hours more passed without figuring this out and by then it was night. Both exhausted, Viktor and Albion stumbled back to their rooms for sleep. They saw no sign of Boris or Albert.

"Tomorrow we'll make it." Said Albion, unconvinced, when they said goodnight outside their rooms. Viktor didn't reply except by yawning loudly and going to bed. Albion sighed to himself and went to bed as well, hoping the morning would bring fresh luck.

Friday

When Albion came down for breakfast, Albert was still trying to convince Boris to inform The Mayor and The Captain about the theft of the Bearsuit. Boris, who was still wearing the backup suit, unheroically kept putting it off. Neither of them mentioned anything about Bring Your Child To Work Week anymore. It was as if that had been cancelled and the children left to their own devices. After a quick breakfast, Albion was determined to leave the adults to their own problems and return to the sewing room, to snatch a Bearsuit from the jaws of defeat. Viktor was less eager. He watched quietly from the breakfast table, as Boris kept trying to wiggle out of calling The Mayor. It was pitiful to watch. Albion left him there and snuck into the Bearcave to resume work by himself. Unfortunately, Albion's uneasy dreams had not taught him anything new about the making of super powered clothing and by late morning he was desperate. He realized that to succeed he would need instructions, and there was only one man who could provide this. Albion trudged back upstairs, wondering how to broach the subject with his father. Albion had not forgotten that Viktor and he had basically been banished from the hero business on account of sheer incompetence and helping villains to escape. He knew it might not be easy convincing Albert not only to let Albion help again but also to take the time to instruct him.

In fact, Albert was too busy to even hear Albion out. He was arguing with Boris that there was no feasible way to recover the stolen Bearsuits before The City Hall Charity Ball that same night, and that the big event might be in grave danger. Who knew what mischief Nightowl would get up to with the power of a Bearsuit at her disposal? But Boris refused to give up. His heroic habits made him unable, or unwilling, to recognize defeat, even when it was helpfully pointed out to him. He kept thinking he was one daring scheme away from saving the day. In Boris' experience that was usually the case and he could not really believe that this time should be different.

"I'll think of something." Boris said, and let himself sink into his big comfortable drawing-room chair, waiting for the appropriately heroic idea to appear to him.

"The City Hall Charity Ball is just the occasion for Nightowl to strike." Boris mused. Albert nodded patiently, that was what he had been saying for some time. Boris went on. "With all the richest and most illustrious citizens in one place, their homes will be empty and ripe for burgling." Boris sat up straighter, a mad gleam in his eyes. "Yes, Nightowl will have more on her plate tonight than she can handle, what with so many mansions to plunder and a new Bearsuit to exploit for evil, she will forget herself and make mistakes and that's all I need, one mistake. Tonight, I will catch her on the prowl, with time to spare for joining the charity ball at a fashionably late hour."

Albert cleared his throat politely. "Sir, we have promised The Captain and The Mayor to keep Nightowl under guard. They trust us to have her under close observation"

"And so we shall, Albert! As soon as we catch her again."

"Quite right, Sir, but we do have a responsibility to let The City know she is on the loose."

"Temporarily on the loose, Albert."

"All the same, Sir, people should know."

"Nonsense. No need to worry anyone. We have a new solid plan to get her back. And it'll not be the luxury dungeon for her next time, I tell you. No, she'll soon wish she'd never escaped at all."

Albion could see Albert had his work cut out for him, so he turned to his plan B, though he admitted to himself it was a long shot. He went back downstairs and located the hidden entrance to the control room. Then he crept inside and started looking around. There was the Villain Browser and the large map of The City, but what of all the computers he had not used yet? Might some of them not have some kind of instruction manual for heroes and their butlers? To Albion it would make a lot of sense if they did. He often felt like looking things up and had a hard time seeing how heroes could figure out their line of work without a guide to consult from time to time. He was determined to find this hero's manual and read the section about suits. Albion tried pressing a few of the many buttons he knew nothing about. One started the coffee machine, another turned on the map of The City, lighting up locations where crimes were being reported. There were not many, the day seemed off to a lawful start. Albion turned the map and the coffee machine off again. Another button turned on a camera above the main entrance to the mansion, so someone sitting in the control room could see who was ringing the bell. Albion was surprised to see two figures standing there at that very moment, waiting by the door. Albion was not aware that guests were expected. One of the visitors was a slim man with a dark, swirling moustache giving off an aristocratic air. An impression strengthened by his fine suit and ebony cane. His companion was a giant woman in a sleeveless leather jacket. She stood menacingly behind the well-dressed man as he reached out a thin, elegant finger and pressed the doorbell.

Albion jumped as the bell rang, loud and jarring in the control room. He switched off the camera to the entrance and that throttled the sound too. Suddenly he felt very alone down there. Who were those two? Something about the man rang an ominous bell in Albion's memory. He remembered Hedwig's story about The Well-Dressed Man, thinking that maybe she hadn't made everything up after all. As fast as he could, Albion sprinted upstairs, to warn the others.

Friday - part II

Albion jumped two steps at a time but midway up the stairs he half-heard something that made him slow down and listen closer. A man was speaking in a voice unlike anything Albion had heard before. It was silky smooth and self-indulgent and made Albion think of powdered wigs and gold pocket watches. But more than that, the voice somehow weaved a hypnotic spell around him. Albion was drawn in, continuing his ascent of the stairs very carefully, so his steps would not drown out the voice. It seemed very important to hear everything it said and understand the commands it gave.

"Relax." The voice drawled. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable. We have a little time to enjoy each other's company."

Albion no longer felt it was urgent to get upstairs and warn everyone of what he suspected. He felt it was urgent to sit down and relax. Although, in the back of his head, Albion thought he heard someone disagree with the convincing voice from upstairs. It sounded like his own voice was yelling to him of great danger, but it also seemed to come from far away and didn't sound very convincing by comparison, Albion admitted.

Albion moved the rest of the way upstairs, the better to hear the alluring voice. He even dared, or rather couldn't resist, sticking his head into the drawing room to look at the speaker. It was a highly unusual sight. Sitting in Boris' big, comfortable chair was the thin man with the twirly moustache that Albion had seen on the monitor and who was clearly the owner of the magical voice. Before him on the floor sat Viktor, Albert and even Boris. They were giving the speaker their full attention, and beside the three of them, like an old friend, sat the huge woman in the sleeveless leather jacket, fully enraptured by the elegant man's every word. He was very aware of this but it didn't seem to please him. A flicker of annoyance passed over his face.

"You may stand up, Smashknuckles." He sighed. "Sometimes I wish you wouldn't take everything I say so literally."

The woman didn't stand up, she looked deeply conflicted, like she was caught in a terrible dilemma. The man sighed again.

"I know, I know. Forget what I just said." When this didn't help he added impatiently. "About not taking me literally. Get up and stand menacingly behind me."When his whole audience stirred he added with irritation. "Only Smashknuckles move, everyone else stay where you are!"

The giant jumped up like she had been prodded roughly with a stick and took position by the chair. The complacent smile returned to the face of The Well-Dressed Man. "Very well then" He said. "Time for introductions. My name is Silvertongue." He made a brief pause to bask in the recognition his name produced in the faces of Albert and Boris. "My reputation precedes me. Good. I shall talk no more of myself then, though I am by far the most interesting person here. And this is Lady Smashknuckles." He gestured carelessly towards the giant woman. "Perhaps you can guess what she's good at." The well-dressed man called Silvertongue smiled. "And now you, my gracious hosts. Introduce yourselves."

The man turned to Viktor. "Let's start with our young friend here. Tell me all about yourself."

A flood of words immediately poured out. "My name is Viktor, I'm Bearboy and I'm the best at Deathrace 2025 and I was the first one to find the secret passageways into the Bearcave and my Dad is Bearman. I can stand on my head for almost two minutes if my best friend Albion helps me and I like Maria from school, which is why I wanted her to know that I'm Bearboy now, which was the second biggest mistake of my life. I cheated on my geography test last week but only because I didn't have time to study for it. I mean I did have time but I didn't see why I needed to know the Capital of Bulgaria. I haven't needed that information since either."

Viktor looked surprised and ashamed at himself, but he would have continued to pour out secrets if Silvertongue had not laughed condescendingly and motioned for him to stop.

"I see, how trivial. I've heard it all before."

Viktor looked hurt. "Did you hear the part about how I'm Bearboy? Did I tell you how I caught The Creep, almost by myself?"

"Babble and braggadocio. This is almost as bad as owls." Said Silvertongue. "So that is quite enough out of you. What about the big brute here?" Silvertongue motioned at Boris with an air of command that made Albion expect to see Boris shortly throw Silvertongue out of the door. But instead Boris replied in a strained voice: "I'm Boris Bjorn." And then, with a visible effort, he stopped talking.

Silvertongue smiled a thin, amused smile, his pale upper lip barely stretching. "Go on."

"I am the director and founder of Bjorn industries." With another great effort Boris closed his mouth again.

"It's quite futile you know." Said Silvertongue. Just tell me the thing you're trying to withhold. Your little helper has already betrayed you, of course. But I want to hear you say it yourself!"

It was a direct command. Boris struggled against it, but he had to give in. "I'm Bearman." He said, but unlike Viktor, who had sounded eager to tell Silvertongue all about himself, Boris sounded furious. If Silvertongue hadn't told him to sit down, Albion was sure Boris would have stuffed Silvertongue's moustache down his throat.

"Of course you are." Said Silvertongue. "And you must be the butler." He flourished his hand dismissively at Albert. "Nightowl has told me all about the three of you. All she knows, anyway. I suspect you have a few tales to tell me yet. But tonight we are expected at a party and we don't want to keep The Mayor waiting, do we? That was a question by the way. Do we want to keep The Mayor waiting?"

"No." Boris said through clenched teeth. His eyes were murderous but he stayed sitting where he had been told. Albion's inner voice was yelling louder and more frantic than ever, but somehow he couldn't quite make out what it was on about. Something about leaving before he was seen. But that was a strange thing to ask because all Albion wanted at that moment was to join the others in the drawing room and listen to that voice all day.

Silvertongue looked pleased. "That's right. Smashknucles, please tie up the butler and put him in a closet somewhere until we get back. Meanwhile, why don't the rest of you get your most presentable suits out for the big ceremony tonight?"

That was an order, Albion thought. If this week had taught him anything it was that he definitely was one of 'the rest'. His legs took a step back but his hands in turn grabbed the doorway, reluctant to let him leave. Silvertongue didn't seem to know know about Albion yet, so he could not have meant to include him in his command, even when he said 'the rest'. Albion was literally torn between two conflicting ideas, staying to listen or going to get his suit. Silvertongue was mighty pleased with himself, he was smiling a thin quivering smile, like two worms dancing to a tune only they could hear. "Yes, you need to look presentable for the big event, it's not every night the people of The City gets to see their favorite hero and his son retire from the hero business and pass on their Bearsuits to worthy heirs. And don't worry yourselves needlessly over who to pick as your successors, I know a couple of characters who will find it a real hoot to take over."

Friday - part III

Albion nearly gasped. Silvertongue's plan was as clear as it was awful, so bad that even the persuasive magic of the voice could not make it sound sweet. Albion became dizzy at the thought that he would be responsible for Nightowl becoming the next Bearman, or Bearwoman. He imagined Bearwoman refusing to arrest any criminals because she was secretly on their side, and the dizziness became accompanied by a ringing in his ears. This had the side effect of drowning out Silvertongue's voice for just long enough for Albion to stagger down the stairs, clinging to the railing, fleeing the terrible future he had just been warned of.

Albion took refuge in the control room, his shirt drenched in a sweat of panic. He realized Silvertognue was in way or another going to take control of the whole city during the Charity Ball, and there would be no Bearman to stop him. There was only Albion and he had no idea what to do, he didn't even know how to make a Bearsuit. Albion turned all the security cameras in the mansion on, after making sure the sound was off so he would not hear that voice and be carried away again. He therefore saw, but did not hear, Silvertongue gloating and tormenting Viktor and Boris while they dressed for the ball. Albert was nowhere to be seen on the monitors, Lady Smashknucles must have already found a closet and stowed him away. It was terrible to watch, but Albion forced himself to watch closely. He was watching for any sign that Silvertongue and Lady Smashknuckles started searching the house to find him, the last resident. But they did not, and this made Albion consider that Owlet might never have mentioned him to her Mom so Nightowl consequently had not told Silvertongue. Had she already forgotten about him just like she'd barely noticed him while they were sneaking around the mansion, but had only paid attention to Viktor? Albion supposed it was for the best, otherwise he would certainly have been tied up in some closet instead of relatively safe in the control room. He kept watching nervously, in case Viktor let something slip. All Silvertongue would have to do was ask if there was anything important they had not told him yet, or ask what the room next to Viktor's was used for, and Viktor would be forced to reveal all. But Silvertongue was too busy taunting his victims without mercy or pause, right up to the moment he directed Lady Smashknuckles to escort the prisoners out of the house.

When that moment came, as soon as the front door closed behind Lady Smashknucles, Albion rushed back upstairs and searched every closet until he found the one containing Albert, tied up very thoroughly. Albion wasted precious time getting him free. It did not help that Albert was still under Silvertongue's spell. It seemed that the closer you were to his voice, and the longer you heard it, the worse a hold Silvertongue had you. And the last thing Silvertongue had said to Albert was to sit tight until they got back and under no circumstances were he to leave the closet. Always conscientious, Albert therefore refused to help his son free him. Albion tried several strategies. Throwing water in his Albert's face didn't help, neither did pinching or yelling or reasoning with him. It took half an hour before Albert would consent to let himself be untied and then more precious time was wasted convincing him to leave the closet, which in the end he only did reluctantly. Fortunately, Silvertongue had not given Albert further instructions than to stay put. So Albert was almost fully functional in other regards, apart from sudden urges to jump into any closet they passed. They were going back to the Bearcave, to grasp for any kind of plan. They knew they were running out of time, as by then Silvertongue, Lady Smashknucles and their prisoners would already have arrived at City Hall.

Friday - part IV

The annual City Hall Charity Ball was the highlight of The City's social calendar, where the elite among the citizens showed off their riches by donating small portions of it to the poorer ones. Everyone wore their best clothes and discreetly compared their watches with those of their friends. Those fortunate enough to have charming or accomplished children had brought them along too. There were small parcels of food on trays carried around by a large number of waiters, sparkling drinks in different colors, polite conversation and delicious gossip. It was in other words shaping up to be another successful Ball.

A stage had been propped up against one side of the room and draped with The City's coat of arms rendered in festive colors. Here The Mayor would soon take the stage to toast the guests and praise the most generous donors. An expectant buzz had descended on the crowd. It had not gone unnoticed that Boris Bjorn was not present for the first time in years and many people wondered what The Mayor thought of that. When the lights dimmed and a figure appeared on stage, the whole assembly hushed. But the whispers revived immediately, because this person was not The Mayor. It was a thin man, and though anyone could see he was well-dressed, none of the guests knew him, which was a very bad sign because they knew everyone worth knowing. Also, the man was accompanied by a very large woman looking like she had come straight from the smoking-lounge of the local motorcycle club, which was also not a good sign. Smoking had been banned at city hall for years. But when the man reached the microphone and spoke all skepticism vanished from the ballroom as fast as the chocolate truffles had vanished from the dessert buffet.

"What a festive evening!" This charming voice declared. "A night to remember, the night when you meet your new protector: Bearwoman." The man smiled broadly and proudly and everyone looked uncertainly at the huge biker-woman at his side. She lowered her eyes and stared shyly at her feet. Silvertongue was the only person in the world who could have convinced her to come onstage before a crowd of strangers. She cast him a furtive, pleading glance. Silvertongue saw and laughed. To the audience his laughter sounded like diamonds trickling into a sea of gold, or like ballots with their name on it dropped into voting booths. They all started smiling too.

Silvertongue waved dismissively. "No, no. Not her." He flung out an arm towards the back of the stage. "Bearwoman! Come out and meet your fans!"

Dutifully, a somewhat ruffled Nightowl emerged. She wore a Bearsuit clearly meant for a larger individual and with what appeared to be another suit, potentially with feathers attached to it, sticking out in several places. By her side appeared a smaller version of herself, much better fitted.

A murmur rose from the crowd. Silvertongue called to order: "Yes, good citizens, there is a new superhero in town." He let the news sink in. "Now, clap for your hero!" Everyone clapped loudly. "But what about Bearman, you ask?" Silvertongue paused dramatically. "He has retired, as he shall tell you himself. But first I think it would be appropriate if you all showed a little more of that warm welcome for his successor."

Loud applause broke out again. "Hmm, yes." Said Silvertongue, but he sounded like he was speaking to children who were failing to amuse him. The audience was appalled and applauded even harder. "Applause is, as we know, cheap." Silvertongue mused. "Jewelry, on the other hand, is expensive. So why don't you show the true depth of your appreciation in the form of valuable gifts. Cash and checks are also acceptable."

Silvertongue gestured towards a small group of henchmen carrying large, empty bags, who now dispersed among the crowd to collect donations. The illustrious citizens found themselves parting with their valuables more readily than they had imagined possible. Somehow, this well-dressed man was impossible to refuse, even for those few who found the temerity to want to defy him. Some guests even volunteered their shoes or dresses, promising the henchmen that these were really more valuable than most people's diamonds. Silvertongue observed with satisfaction. "That's better. Actions speak louder than words, though I admit am partial to words myself. Speaking of which, allow me to introduce myself: I am Silvertongue and you may think of me as a kind of agent, or manager, for your new superhero, whom we are celebrating tonight. But enough about me. To the microphone, Bearwoman, present yourself! Audience, applaud!"

Friday - part V

Bearwoman presented herself at the microphone to thundering applause. Silvertongue smiled benevolently, but spurred on by the enthusiasm of the crowd could not resist continuing to speak himself. "You have before you a new breed of hero." Silvertongue said. "One you can trust because she will answer to the commissioner for justice." He added in an undertone. "This is a new position to be filled shortly." Silvertongue put a hand on his chest as if to indicate who might receive that honor. "No, your new breed of hero does not ask you to trust the charity of strangers, she'll have your interests at heart because she will be funded by yourselves, through the hero-tax, the first instalment of which my associates are collecting as we speak." Silvertongue paused, then added with a hint of irritation. "Don't you see that now would be an appropriate time for more applause?" Applause followed. "And now it is really time for you to meet her, I give you: Bearwoman!"

Silvertongue finally relinquished the microphone and took a very small step to the side. Nightowl leaned into the microphone and said in a hoarse, screechy voice: "I am Bearwoman." It sounded like she did not really believe it.

"A little louder and clearer, please." Silvertongue instructed.

After a second of hesitation, Nightowl's body jerked forward and she screeched loudly: "I am Bearwoman!"

Silvertongue nodded. "The two of us have known each other for some time haven't we?" He asked in a bantering voice, like a talk-show host who could not sit back and let his guest steal the attention of the audience. Nightowl nodded. "Don't be shy. We're old friends here." Silvertongue gestured at the microphone.

"We are old, yes, friends." Nightowl croaked. Another audience might have found their new hero's apparent lack of enthusiasm strange, but under Silvertongue's influence it merely presented itself as admirable modesty such as a hero might be expected to possess.

"In fact, Bearwoman I know you have dreamt of this moment for a long time. Isn't that right? Tell us about it, about your dream." He motioned at the microphone again.

After a brief internal struggle, Nightowl told the audience: "I dreamt of painting beautiful forest owls that look into your soul."

Silvertongue frowned. He covered the microphone with one hand. He sighed. "I had happily forgotten about your artistic delusions. Tell them you want to be a hero. That has to be a secret dream of yours, Nightowl, after you've toiled so long as my despised thief. Either way, say it!"

He let go of the microphone and Nightowl did as she was told: "I want to be a hero!" She screeched. Everyone in the audience applauded. They had figured out that the charming man wanted them to applaud whenever there was a pause in a speech and they did not want to let him down. Besides this really did seem like an inspiring moment to them, it was far overdue for that woman to achieve her dreams of heroism.

Even Silvertongue detected genuine feeling behind Nightowl's words. He was pleased. "Of course you do." He declared loudly and enthusiastically. "Who wouldn't? And as commissioner for justice, well, it's really just a formality away, you know, I now grant you what you most desire, your chance to be the hero you've always wanted."

More applause thundered, but Nightowl froze in what almost looked like a kind of stunned panic.

Silvertongue sighed and blocked the microphone again. "What's the matter with you, owl-woman? It's good to be overwhelmed by gratitude for your benevolent master, but the show must go on."

But Nightowl seemed unable to go on, she was stuck in some terrible muddle. She mumbled, like she didn't dare say it for fear it would be proven untrue. "I can really be a hero?"

SIlvertongue smiled again. "Yes, yes. That's what I'm saying." He smiled condescendingly. "I knew you would be dreaming of a little celebration in your honor, but I never suspected your foolish dreams to be so ardent. Well, now is your chance, play the hero tonight."

"I have your permission?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Said Silvertongue, but then he frowned. "Just to be clear though, I'm talking about being the hero to this rabble, not some owl-painting artistic version of heroism, you're through with that for good. I've had quite enough birds staring into my soul for a lifetime, thank you very much." He sighed again, and this sigh seemed to come straight from his heart. He rested his hand on the microphone, it looked for a moment like he was leaning on it. "I'll tell you this, Nightowl, or Bearwoman, or whatever I tell you to be next, sometimes this power is a curse, and it's all because of people like you who are too stupid to understand what I want them to do without endless qualification to my instructions."

As Silvertongue had seemed to grow weary, Nightowl came to life. She turned to him with an expression he had never seen on her before. "I am a hero." She repeated to herself, and It seemed to Silvertongue she finally looked convincingly like Bearwoman, and a worrying thought popped into his head. Silvertongue raised a finger, as if about to say something urgent, but before he could get a word across, the new hero in town clobbered him on the head with a mighty paw that send him off his feet.

Silvertongue landed with a thud. Because he was a thin man it was only a light thud and was easily drowned out by the shocked gasps from the audience. When he didn't get back up, confusion started to spread. With Silvertongue unconscious, the words he had spoken no longer seemed so reasonable, the more time passed without hearing his voice the more it seemed that something was in fact fundamentally wrong with what he had told them. Especially the stuff about giving their money to him. But long before that flighty feeling settled into a firm conviction, a furious roar from the stage gave everyone something more urgent to think about. The giant woman on stage was standing over Silvertongue and emitting thunderous grief-stricken cries that carried unmistakable overtones of rage and thirst for vengeance. Everyone stared at her, and when she stopped roaring and began staring back her eyes were filled with rage and vengeance as well. Almost immediately, a general panic was unleashed. The crowd stampeded for the exits, having decided that despite whatever confusion they might be suffering the first and best thing to do was to flee this grieving giant.

Friday - part VI

Lady Smashknuckles bent her colossal frame over Silvertongue. She raised him up into her arms and shook him softly, but he didn't respond. He had once told her that she was his favorite henchwoman and because he was Silvertongue she had believed him. She was the person in world who had been listening to him for the longest time and as a result he had left the deepest impression on her.

Lady Smashknucles felt like her heart was in the grip of some large animal with sharp claws. She gently put Silvertongue down, raised herself to her full height and not understanding her emotions but knowing she did not like them she looked around for someone to blame. And right there was Bearwoman, staring at Silvertongue with as much disbelief as Lady Smashknucles herself, but it had to be for very different reasons. Perhaps she could not believe how much she was about to be smashed. Lady Smashknucles thought that was probably the explanation, she could hardly believe it herself. She felt even more like smashing than usual. Smashknucles was ready to drop the lady.

The little Beargirl was pulling on Berwoman's arm. "Mom, maybe we should leave right now?" She was so small she was barely worth smashing, though that had rarely stopped Smashknuckles before. She would smash the big one first and take care of the details later. She took a step towards her next victim when the little one spoke again, as little ones often did when it was smashing time. "Mom, I really think we should go. Like, right now."

The Big bear woke up from her dreams. "No, darling. We won't run. We are the heroes now." she smiled tremulously. "How ironic!" Tears were flowing out of her mask. She looked like Smashknucles had felt when Silvertongue was pleased with some smashing she had done. That happy memory only made Smashknucles angrier that they had dared lay a finger on him. To her delight, the bigger Bear charged right at her, which meant there would be less chasing and more fighting. But the bigger bear was fast. Before Smashknuckles knew it she felt a paw pummel her stomach with a force to knock the wind out of an elephant, though smashknuckles did not get windy. She used the pummeling as an opportunity to pick up the attacker and squeeze her head like an empty soda can.

"Watch out, Mom." The little bear called and Lady Smashknuckles noticed she was frantically unlimbering a weapon from her suit. Smashsknucles was more impatient than concerned, even when more little voices chimed in with more of their chatter.

"Dad, look, she has stolen the webgun too! Stop her." Smashknucles recognized this voice. It was the little boy in the suit. The one who claimed to be Bearboy. He was on the stage now, along with the large furry man. He should not be on the stage, he was retired, he had no right, Smashknucles thought. It was getting crowded up there, and Smashknuckles hated crowds. But crowd did imply more smashing, and Smashknuckles loved that.

"Viktor! A little discretion, please, we are only concerned civilians here. Besides, the villains are fighting amongst themselves. Why stop them?"

"Because it's not her gun, Dad, it's stolen. Owlet, give back that gun!"

"My name is The Cub now!" The little bear called back and fired the weapon at Smashknuckles. A bundle of rope entangling her and Bearwoman both.

"Sorry, Mom." The little one called out, then started frantically reloading.

Smashknucles did not care about a puny web. It restrained her a tiny bit, but only like being in water. But the Bearwoman in Smashknuckles' hands was a hard nut to crack, she kept wriggling and kicking instead of screaming in pain as expected. And when she could not wiggle out she sank her teeth into Smashknuckles' fingers with all the enhanced jaw strength provided by the Bearsuit.

Even Smashknuckles could not easily brush that off. That bite hurt. And when she tried to shake the biting bear off, it only bit down harder. Smashknuckles flailed violently and because she was still entangled in the ropes from the webgun she lost her balance, falling over and bringing her opponent with her. While falling she was annoyed by more pointless chatter.

"Dad, she can't call herself 'The Cub', can she? She can't even aim the webgun, and besides her name is Owlet, not 'The Cub' and 'The Cub' is just a really stupid name, isn't it?"

"Neither the time nor the place, Viktor. This is a critical moment that calls for action. Not for you, though. Stay back, this could get dangerous."

Smashknucklesas was just getting back on her feet when she felt the big furry man tackle her from the side, buying the Bearwoman a few more seconds to bite through the web and free herself. Smashknuckles groaned and stood up again. The little voices were still yelling around her.

"You have to press the button to reload. Give me the gun and I'll show you." The little boy had not stayed back, he had joined the little bear who was aiming the webgun again. Smashknuckles had barely cast the first web off when another enveloped her and pinned her arms to her sides. This led to more stupid talk.

"I got her, Mom! Properly this time."

"Well done my darling Owlet."

"Mom, I'm The Cub now!"

"But Owlet is such as wonderful name, darling. Are you sure you don't want to keep it?"

Smashknuckles got even angrier. She was uncomfortable with superfluous conversation and those small people would not stop talking. In a rage she tore the ropes enveloping her apart. Pieces of web flopped to the floor. Her opponents gaped in silence.

"Dad, she broke free of the web. That's not good is it?"

"No, Viktor. That's very bad."

Which to Smashknuckles seemed the correct answer to a very stupid question. Of course it was bad. They were all doomed now that she was free. There was no need for further clarification, and yet the little boy kept talking.

"Has anyone ever done that before, Dad?"

"No."

Another answer that was to Smashknuckles' liking, short and to the point. She was beginning to like the big man, so she would show him the kindness of smashing him quickly. His son was another matter.

"Really, Dad, not even The Jailbreaker?"

"No Viktor, surprisingly not even The Jailbreaker."

Apparently all the talking was contagious, now the Bearwoman laughed in the most inappropriate manner. "How ironic." She cackled.

All these words circled Smashknucles like swarms of mosquitoes pestering her every breath. Every sting a painful reminder that it was not Silvertongue speaking to her. Compared with his magnificent speech these tiny voices were not only insignificant but utterly unacceptable. By then the ballroom was nearly empty, most citizens having escaped with their lives and sanity intact and Silvertongue's henchmen long since vanished with their stolen goods. But Smashknuckles did see a red-headed man and a red-headed girl scribbling furiously on a notepad. They seemed to inch ever closer to the stage every few seconds as if they wanted to see the smashing up close. Their wish would come true soon enough, but they looked weak and harmless, so they would have to content themselves with being smashed last. But this meant a new problem for Smashknucles, her to-do list was growing longer and more complicated. So many victims, moving up and down the list. She was therefore greatly annoyed to hear sounds of breaking glass, see two figures land on the floor and pipe up with more confusion.

"Not so fast, villain! Surrender now and we shall not hurt you." Smashknuckles groaned. It was another tiny person dressed like a Bear, although this one was perhaps the smallest and most frightened one yet. He had his hands on his hips in what he possibly believed to be an intimidating pose, but at the same time he was trembling and glancing at his companion for support. It was the wrong the place to look, thought Lady Smashknucles, the companion might be much taller than the small bear, and dressed in a similar outfit, but he was far too skinny and puny looking to save anyone. She would smash him last. Smashknucles frowned. She remembered she had already decided to smash several others last, which meant some of them would have to be smashed sooner, yet not first because that position was reserved for the Bearwoman. Things were becoming far too complicated. Smashknucles smiled, because she had just had a wonderful idea. Instead of remembering a list of whom to smash and when to smash them, she would simply smash everybody in whatever order they came to her. She did not care for anyone except Silvertongue so with him gone there was no one she wouldn't smash. It was so simple. Smashknucles' smile spread. When she was done here she smash in the street and there would be so many streets she would never have to stop. Yes, she thought. Smashing everybody was a plan exactly to her liking.

Friday - part VII

Maria O'Malley saw Bearman and Bearboy burst through The City Hall windows, snapping a photograph as they landed among the broken glass and abandoned dessert plates. "This is front page stuff." Maria mumbled. Bearman and Bearboy in action. Though she was disappointed this seemed to put a stop to what she had thought would be her scoop of the year. Boris and Viktor Bjorn could not be Bearman and Bearboy because Boris and Viktor were on the stage while Bearman and Bearboy was in front of it.

Maria did not have time to dwell on this misfortune, there were too many people in bearsuits to keep track of and she could not afford to miss a beat as all four bear-people charged Lady Smashknucles together. Bearwoman was first, on account of being closest to begin with. She took a fierce swipe at the villain but received a fierce blow in return, one that sent her flying back into Bearman, Bearboy and The Cub, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Boris Bjorn, one of the few civilians remaining, was yelling advice. "Spread out. Attack from the sides and distract her with the webs." Boris was keeping both himself and Viktor away from the fighting. Knowing Viktor, Maria thought this was very sensible. Viktor was of course eager to help.

"Dad, everyone else gets to fight the villain. Even the other villains are fighting her." It seemed like a strange thing to say, what other villains? But again Maria had no time to think.

"Viktor, we are civilians caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. We should not get involved."

"But, Dad!"

Maria did not really pay attention to these strange utterings, because all the heroes were back on their feet for the next round. Boris was yelling, louder than ever: "Outmaneuver her!" When Bearman and Bearboy didn't seem to hear him. Boris, picked up the abandoned microphone from the stage floor, and lobbed it at Bearman's back.

Bearman reached up to his ears and removed some sort of plugs from them. When he spoke, Maria was surprised at how polite and soft spoken he was. "Pardon me, sir, I'm afraid these precautions impeded my hearing." Boris yelled again. "That's fine! But you'll never win a contest of strength with this one, flank her! Work with, you know, the other ones." Bearboy looked uncertainly at Bearwoman The Cub. But Bearman nodded. He was going to take Boris' advice. They were forming a superhero super group. Maria scribbled harder than ever as they surrounded the lone, but very large, villain.

However, flanking Lady Smashknuckles was not without complications. It was all well and good for those attacking from the back, but for those approaching from the front, it was much like regular face-to-face smashing, as Bearwoman learned when Smashknuckles picked her up by the feet and swung her across the room.

The Cub ran to her aid, calling. "Mom, are you OK?"

Bearwoman was already upright again. "Yes, darling, I think I am. This suit is really quite wonderful. I must say I'm thinking about expanding into bear paintings."

"Ok, Mom, but later. We have to survive first."

"Oh of course my dear Owlet. I mean my dear Cub. And we will. Look, we have allies now."

Bearwoman pointed to Bearman, who was just then getting caught in Lady Smashknuckles' vice-like grip. Smashknuckels' other hand was trying to pry Bearboy off her back, but he was jumping desperately from shoulder to shoulder. Luckily for him, Lady Smashknuckles was not nearly as limber as she was mighty, and he even managed to land the occasional punch on her back, which she did not notice, and on her ears, which she noticed as a pleasant, muffling of all the yelling the little people were doing while she was trying to smash them. The Cub observed all this skeptically. "Mom, are you sure we should not save ourselves now that we have the chance?"

"Darling, I told you we are heroes now. Our allies are holding down the front and rear." She glanced at Bearman dangling from Lady Smashknucle's fist and Bearboy hanging on for dear life. "Well, in a fashion, and we shall take the advice of the loud man with the bushy eyebrows and attack from the sides!"

Bearwoman and The Cub succesfully flanked Lady Smashknuckles. Bearwoman got hold of the arm smashing Bearman, it was as thick as the trunk of an old oak, and tried to pry the fist open.

The Cub was doing her best to grab the other arm, the one fumbling for Bearboy, but she was not tall enough, so instead she wrapped herself around Lady Smashknuckle's knee and made herself heavy, apparently hoping this would disturb the giant's sense of balance. Maria could not say the fight was quite the symphony of elegance and competence she had expected from four heroes working in unison. But it did seem that the four of them were just barely managing to fight Lady Smashknuckles to a standstill. Neither side was gaining ground. For a moment it looked like Lady Smashknuckles would finally reach Bearboy and rid herself on one adversary, but in the end she only got hold of the webgun on his back, which she threw disdainfully aside.

Viktor strained to get out of his dad's grip. "But the webgun is right there, and it's not like anyone is even using it."

Boris sighed. "They only took half my advice. The kids should be flanking Lady Smashknuckles with the artillery instead of climbing on her like monkeys. Although Bearboy, is putting on a good show."

"We'll help." Viktor suggested. "We be the artillery. Come on, they obviously need help."

Boris hesitated, but he could not deny the truth of that judgement. "She is so strong we will need both guns at once."

Viktor, sensing heroism nearly within his grasp, yelled. "Owlet, Owlet! Throw the webgun here. Quick, before the villain gets away." The Cub ignored Viktor, and there didn't really seem to be any danger of anyone getting away. The balance of forces was still evenly matched. Finally Viktor swallowed his pride. "I mean, The Cub, OK? Are you happy? Please throw the webgun over here."

This time The Cub reacted, and while keeping hold of Lady Smashknuckles' bulging thighs with two legs and an arm, she used her other arm to loosen the webgun and throw it to Viktor.

"Now, Dad, let's get her!" Viktor cried. Boris let him run and pick up the weapon, while Boris ran to her other side.

"On my word, everyone jump off." Boris shouted.

"Pardon me, sir, but I appear to be stuck." Bearman said, polite as ever. He was still suspended from Lady Smashknuckle's iron fist, and his arms were simply not long enough to do anything but pinch her biceps.

Boris thought for a second. "Hang in there, Bearman, no pun intended. Bearwoman, bite her hand again."

Bearwoman did as suggested and Lady Smashknuckles roared with pain. Her grip weakened just enough for Bearman to wiggle out. Boris gave the word and the other three jumped off as well. Lady Smashknuckles barely had time to decide which of victims was closest and would therefore be smashed next, when the webs hit her, one from each side.

Boris kept yelling. "While she's distracted, jump on top of her and hold her down." Lady Smashknuckles struggled fiercely against the double webbing and the four heroes and that eventually depleted even her considerable strength. Boris gave the word for the others to jump off and he and Viktor ended the fight with one last salvo from the webguns. They might not be Bearman and Bearboy, Maria thought, but they were doing pretty well for a pair of civilians.

Friday - part VIII

When it became clear that not even Lady Smashknuckles could smash her way through four webs at a time, a cheer erupted from the few remaining citizens in the hall. Apart from Maria O'Malley and her Dad, these now included The Mayor, who had her golden chain in one hand and in the other dragged the unconscious henchman who had stolen it from her while she had been under Silvertongue's spell. She had taken offense to that once she had regained her senses.

"I only managed to catch this one." The Mayor said. "The rest of them got away."

"Well, most of them." This was The Captain, she was there in the company of several of her officers and a few dejected-looking henchmen. They first made sure Silvertongue was still unconscious and then thoroughly gagged him. "It will be a long time before anyone will hear another word out of his mouth." The Captain said. Turning to Bearman, she added. "We shall have to keep his mouth covered shut at all times."

For some reason talk of prison seemed to make Bearwoman nervous. She loudly declared that justice had been done and took The Cub's hand to drag her out of there, ignoring Maria's attempts to engage her in an exclusive interview. Viktor pulled his father's arm insistently to direct his attention to Bearwoman's departure, but Boris shook his head. Viktor looked sullen, and Maria thought he probably wanted Bearwoman's autograph. She knew Viktor was a great fan of heroes. The Mayor also looked disappointed that Bearwoman and The Cub left before she had a chance to thank them for their service. She had to express all her gratitude to Bearman and Bearboy instead, who accepted it awkwardly, as if they had not been praised countless times before for their heroic deeds. Maria wondered with admiration how they managed to stay so humble. The Mayor, who liked a good declaration, declared she could never thank the heroes as much as they deserved but that she would try the next day, by holding an official celebratory press conference, to reassure the shaken citizens who had just been through so much. At the end, The Mayor looked Bearman earnestly in the eyes and implored him to "Bring the whole team to the celebratory press conference, it's important for people to have a chance to thank all of their heroes."

Bearman and Bearboy was about to leave, but Viktor refused to miss another autograph. He caught up to them. "Can I have a picture with you, Bearboy?" He said, looking embarrassed, and casting shy glances at Maria. Maria remembered how Viktor was really almost obsessed with superheroes. He would talk about them and then act like he had said too much, like he was embarrassed to be so obsessed, which Maria could understand if he were. Now Viktor appeared to pull himself together to overcome his embarrassment. He called to her. "Hey, Maria! Will you take my picture with Bearboy?"

Maria didn't mind at all taking a picture of Viktor with his hero, it might even make a good photograph for her next story. So they posed for the camera and Bearboy produced his characteristic big smile, though Maria thought it looked a little forced. She was not surprised, not with the way Viktor was fawning all over him, that would make anyone uncomfortable.

"Thanks, Maria." Viktor said. "I'll put that picture on my superhero wall!"

Maria thought she would have to be careful never to mention to Viktor that she'd once thought his smile looked like Bearboy's. That would only go to his head. Certainly she could not tell him she had, for the briefest moment, thought that Viktor himself was Bearboy, based on just that smile. She couldn't believe she had let such flimsy evidence almost convince her. She would have to do better in the future, if she was going to be a real reporter, which she definitely was. And she would just have to wait a little bit longer for that scoop of the year.

Saturday

The attack on the Charity Ball was all over the news next morning, but to Viktor's disappointment Bearboy was no longer the focus of attention. He had been upstaged by Bearwoman and The Cub. Everyone were celebrating the new heroes, except Viktor. He alone saw them for what they were: Villains in disguise. He was outraged at their shamelessness. Presenting themselves as heroes in stolen Bearsuits!

Boris calmly explained to him over and over that Silvertongue's powers put the situation in a new light. They had all experienced on their own bodies what Nightowl must have suffered for years under the sway of his voice. This Viktor learned to see. But when it came to not demanding the Bearsuits back, he drew the line. "They will try to capture our villains right in front of us."

Boris was unconcerned. "First of all, we don't know how to find them to present our demands. Second of all, if we don't demand the suits back, nobody will ever have to know they were stolen, especially not The Mayor." Boris looked particularly happy at this prospect. "And last but not least, I would not mind them catching a villain or two. I could use a few nights off." At the end he added cheerfully. "And you have to admit they did a good job yesterday. I don't know how we should have managed without them."

Viktor had not replied, but had let the argument drop. Later, Boris casually mentioned that he hoped Bearwoman and The Cub would indeed join the Saturday celebrations as The Mayor had repeatedly invited them to do, speaking through the news since no one had heard from Bearwoman since she had hurried off after the Charity Ball. Boris didn't even refer to them as Nightowl and Owlet anymore, so eventually Viktor had to accept even that. Then Boris said all four of them would go to the celebrations in the same guises they had worn yesterday, Boris and Viktor would be present as grateful civilians while Albion and Albert would be there as heroes. Albion had looked worried that this would be the final straw for, but Viktor had accepted it without a murmur.

The truth was that Viktor was not in the least upset with Albion anymore. He was thankful his mistakes with Maria O'Malley were being repaired and that Boris' secret identity had not been revealed after all. Silvertongue would never be allowed to say another word, so he couldn't reveal it. Nightowl and Owlet had become Bearwoman and The Cub, and if they really wanted to be heroes, and that was how it seemed, they wouldn't reveal a thing either. They would not want anyone to know their secret identities or their dark past. That only left Lady Smashknucles, but as far as they heard from The Captain, Smashknucles had more or less lost her mind. She had been under Silvertongue's spell for so long that their separation had broken her. Not even she would go to prison, she would be sent on vacation somewhere peaceful and warm and far out of the way. So Viktor could appreciate his luck. Instead of becoming an embarrassing failure in the very week of his debut, Bearboy was a hero again. Viktor was so thankful for that he found he could for the first time in life swallow his pride without it leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It was a novel and strange experience. For a moment or two, he wondered if he might even one day learn to forgive Bearwoman and The Cub.

Saturday \- part II

The ceremonial press conference was held outside city hall, on the town square. It was packed with citizens waiting for a glimpse of their saviors. Somebody had made the effort of moving the stage outside, and this was where The Mayor presided over the showering of heroes in confetti and applause. It seemed never to end.

Albion told himself this was the only time he would ever get to experience the admiration and gratitude of the entire city, so he should try to enjoy it. And it was a great feeling for a while, but surprisingly fast Albion got restless and even a little bored. He and Albert had nothing to do. They were simply expected to stand there and look heroic while people sang their praise. Albion thought a couple of cardboard cutouts could have done the job just fine. Then his back started to ache from him standing so straight and upright for so long and he wondered if a cardboard cutout might not have been better at this particular job than he was. It certainly would not have been so uncomfortable.

Every time a speech was over Albion was relieved but without fail another speech started shortly afterwards. The Captain spoke after The Mayor, and her speech was the only one that really interested Albion, because the explained what would be done about the captured villains. Because Silvertongue was so persuasive, it was decided no-one else could be held accountable for anything. Not his henchmen and not even Lady Smashknuckles. She would be put in the witness protection program somewhere tranquil and very far away.

But the day was far from over once The Captain had spoken, then it was time for speeches by prominent citizens who had been there the day before. Among them was Boris Bjorn with an exuberant tribute to Bearman and Bearwoman. Albion started to look around for the bathroom. There seemed to be none. At least it was a beautiful day, the weather was accommodating them with clear skies and sunshine. The only shadow hanging over the event was the absence of Bearwoman and The Cub. Albion wondered if they were nervous about showing themselves in public. They might be afraid that Boris had told The Mayor about their dark past as Nightowl and Owlet.

But even this cloud was dispersed. After Boris' moving words of praise for all the heroes including the two new ones, Bearwoman and The Cub descended on the stage from the roof of City Hall where they had been hiding until they felt convinced it was truly safe to appear. When they showed up the crowd went wild all over again. Albion groaned inwardly, because he knew the whole round of speeches and applause was about to start over. He was so distraught by the lack of bathrooms, and by the rising sun that was heating up his suit, that he hardly heard a word of the new speeches. It took all he had just to keep his back straight and suffer through his great day. By the end he was ready to dust off any number of marble statues if only it meant getting off that stage.

Saturday - part III

Afterwards, as they were driving home, Albion asked his father something that had been hanging around in the back of his mind the whole day. Albert was driving the two of them in the Bearvan while Viktor and Boris were taking the limousine. Albion did not want to spoil the celebratory mood of the day, but he could not contain his worry any longer.

"Dad, everyone is celebrating, yet we didn't catch Mr. Misery. He was the one who threatened us, he was behind the whole thing and he is still out there."

"That's true." Albert said. "But it's widely known that Mr. Misery is a coward who will only act out his evil deeds through others. Without henchmen and henchwomen to do his bidding he is an empty voice."

Albion thought it over. "Won't he finds new underlings?"

Albert nodded. "He will. Eventually someone always answers his call."

"And then what?"

"Then we catch them too." Albert paused. "Or we help Viktor and Boris catch them."

Albert glanced sideways at his son, and Albion sensed his father was worried that Albion might have developed a taste for the superhero lifestyle, and would not be happy to go back to butlering.

"That's all right, Dad." Albion said, and leaned back in his seat. "Next time I'll give Viktor better advice, I promise, so things will go much smoother. Then Mr. Misery won't even know what happened to his underlings." Albion had seen firsthand the trouble that arose when a young superhero's best friend didn't talk him out of dangerous ideas. He had seen why a superhero needed a butler, or advisor, as Albion had decided to call himself in the future.

"Very good." Said Albert, with what looked to be a content smile. "So I take it you're in the hero assistance business now? Perhaps you'll even be interested in a few tips from an old-timer now and again?"

Albion nodded lazily. He knew he had a lot to learn, but he was convinced he had it in him to become a superb advisor. After all, he would learn from the best. But that would come later. For now Albion closed his eyes and decided to make the most of his last minutes in the Bearsuit by drifting off into a restful, well-earned sleep.

A Note from the Author

Dear reader,

This was a work of fiction, as you have no doubt realized by your own powers of deduction. I made it all up and I would really, indeed and very much like to know what you think about it. Please send me a few words, for example at eppejneslo@gmail.com.

E. Neslo, 2019.

