Episode Two - 'In the Hall of the Leper King'

This is the scene today: A man coughs slightly and, with a liver pocked hand, turns the page inside a blue plastic file stamped with an ultra-violet seal. He considers what he is reading as he adjusts the fit of his glasses for comfort. As he studies the papers laid out in front of him, he glances up from time to time, occasionally to request another glass of whisky from the young lady in attendance, but more often than not to regard his black American guest. Somewhere in Whitehall a clock chimes eleven o' clock. Inside the Ministry for Secular Affairs, Mr Winston closes the file and clasps his hands together as if ready for prayer. Beside him, Mr Price whispers to the girl to bring in some tea. He turns to the American and raises an eyebrow, flicking a piece of lint from the sleeve of his Saville Row suit in the process.

"Tea?" he asks, quizzically.

"Coffee," comes the reply, "black, no sugar."

"Ah, of course," adds Mr Price, smiling as he relays the order. The silence has been broken. Mr Winston leans forward, tapping the file with his forefinger.

"You've led quite an interesting and exhilarating life, Mr Carver, or do you prefer to be called Bloodhawk?"

"Whatever." Bloodhawk leans back in his chair and regards the two middle aged Englishmen. He is not a patient man and these two upper class queens have kept him waiting since half past eight this morning.

"Quite a thick dossier and, in your favour, there are several commendations appended to it by people of considerable influence. You seem to have connections, Mr Carver."

"I get by."

"Yes... I imagine you do." Mr Winston closes the dossier and slowly winds the piece of string around its two metal clasps. He passes the file to his companion and taps his fingers against the green baize of his eighteenth century desk. A pair of matching cannons sits there as paperweights.

"Some of the notes seem a little sensational. One of our field reports claims you were killed!"

Bloodhawk smiles.

"Yes, well, indeed... our agents obviously have highly excitable imaginations." Mr Winston shifts slightly in his old leather seat.

"So, I take it there isn't a problem with me tracking down these so called 'Bloodhawks'?" Carver rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair and brings his hands together under his chin.

"Well, as you are no doubt aware, the UK has been blessed with a very low level of meta-human influence up until now, at least compared to the anarchic situation we see in the States. We do have a few troublemakers of our own of course. Who can forget the antics of the Mole! And between you and me, Charming Billy's scandalous activities have excited considerable press speculation. We've had to slap a 'D' notice on news reports on more than one occasion. But on the whole we run a clean ship here. Spectacular battles of pyrotechnic proportions are something of a rarity in this green and pleasant land. Frankly, Mr Carver," and as he speaks he leans forward, "His Majesty's Ministers do everything in their power to keep it that way."

"So I imagine it's in your interests then for me to deal with these terrorists and get them out of your charming country."

"Hmm." Mr Winston smiles. "Ah, your coffee has arrived."

"Really? I'm nearly wetting myself with anticipation," remarks Bloodhawk.

"I'll be frank with you, Mr Carver. Personally I think we're in danger of opening the floodgates, so to speak. Let one super human in and before you know it they're all coming over here in their holidays to punch each other about a bit."

Carver laughs.

"It's not funny, Mr Carver. Think of the damage to the insurance industry alone."

"That's not my problem. What is my problem is that there is a group of terrorists using my name, running around and making a nuisance of themselves in your country. I take the abuse of my name pretty personally, 'old boy'."

"Our police units..."

"Don't even carry proper guns. Look, I'm trying to do this the nice polite way. Some of my friends wouldn't have even bothered with the diplomatic channels, and many of them wouldn't have had to. In case you haven't noticed, Britannia doesn't rule the waves any more. You can drink as much fucking tea as you like; you can sit behind the Duke of Wellington's oak desk all day if you want, but don't pretend for one little minute that you have any influence in the world anymore. All that's gone."

"Hmm. So what are you saying then, Mr Carver?"

"I'm saying that I'm going to deal with these 'Bloodhawks', but I'd rather I did it with your blessing. Hell, I may want to retire here one day. When I'm senile enough."

"Very droll." Mr Winston and Mr Price confer in hushed whispers for a moment. After all, they do have something on their mind.

"It's like this," says Mr Price. "I represent the Ministry for Secular Affairs, and I'm prepared to, on behalf of His Majesty, offer you a carte blanche - that's French by the way..."

"Is it now." Says Bloodhawk.

"... a carte blanche license to operate for a period of time within our borders in pursuit of these felons."

"Good." Bloodhawk begins to get up, "Why couldn't you have just said that an hour ago."

"There is just one other matter."

"What?" Carver stares at the man with a sense of mounting irritation.

"There's something we'd like you to do for us as well."

"Is there."

"We have a super hero in London who goes by the name of Atom Man. Frankly, Mr Carver... how can I put this... he's become something of a liability."

"What Mr Price means to say," adds Mr Winston, "is that he's become a menace to society and we want him stopped."

"Is he the lunatic who roasted all those hostages in the DeBeers building?"

"Uh, yes. Yes indeed."

"Fine, consider it done." Bloodhawk walks toward the door. He pauses for a moment. "I think you're right actually."

"I beg your pardon?"

"About the floodgates. I've got this feeling in my gut that's there's going to be some changes around here. Know what I mean?"

A secluded house somewhere in Essex

Atom Man regarded the monitors patiently. Screen one showed a bed, viewed from above, and a young woman lying asleep upon it. Screen two showed the same bed from an angle viewed from above the main door. Screen three showed an extreme close up of the woman's beautiful face. Screen four showed an image taken from the head of the bed, focusing on the antique wardrobe and dressing table beyond it. Screen five wasn't working. Screen six showed the entrance to the shower room. Screen seven showed the inside of the shower. Screen eight showed the door to the room from the outside. Atom Man had been watching his monitors for over an hour now. The anesthetic was taking far longer to wear off than expected.

He reached for a cup of hot chocolate by the side of the table and sipped it thoughtfully. Placing the cup down next to the monitor controls, Atom Man picked up the documents from the woman's purse that he had retrieved from inside the burning DeBeers building. He turned the UN/UK identity card around in his fingers. The card read 'Elenor Anna Haines, Birth Date: 10 May 1977, Nationality: English, Occupation: Writer, ID Number: LB95573-2-SE-B2. The laser-etched photo on the card showed a happy, confident looking woman. Atom Man raised the card to his lips and kissed the photo for several seconds. Elenor... Anna... Haines... he mouthed the words to himself.

Atom Man sat and waited.

Elenor awoke from her nightmares. She turned in the bed, pressing her head against the soft fluffy pillow. She felt the clean, starched sheets, smelt the unmistakable scent of white cotton and gradually she opened her eyes.

The room was of course unfamiliar. Elenor stretched her arms and legs and looked around the room. There were two doors, both identical. One was open and apparently led to a bathroom of sorts. The other was closed, with no door handle, but there did seem to be an electronic card slot. She felt something hanging from her left arm and, upon inspection, discovered it to be a switch card attached to a plastic coated wire fastened to her wrist. Elenor could recall the events from the party. She could remember the Bloodhawks taking over the fifteenth floor; the intervention by Atom Man and the horrible carnage that ensued. She could remember falling, but nothing more... As she tried to get up, she stiffened with pain. Underneath the clean sheets she was nude except for a synthetic cast around her ribs. Any movement was painful. Something was broken there, though the neural-cast was doing its job in accelerating the healing process.

Elenor rose from the bed and stood, naked, in the room. She felt dizzy still from whatever drugs she had been given. And there was something else... She reached out with her fingers and gently touched her throat where she could feel some sort of dull sensation. Her fingers touched cold metal. She explored the object - it was a plug socket of some kind, implanted in the centre of her throat. Horrified, she inserted her small finger into the socket and pulled it out again. Elenor ran into the bathroom and flicked on the light. A mirror on the wall revealed to her the truth - a steel socket, precisely one and a half centimetres in diameter protruded from her throat. Elenor fell to her knees and screamed.

Atom Man couldn't hear the screams as his cameras weren't hooked up for sound, but he could see her reaction well enough. He frowned, disappointed, and turned the dial to zoom in with camera seven. He made a quick note in his diary and then picked up the mug of hot chocolate again.

Elenor had eventually checked the wardrobe for something to wear. Inside she found a rack of seven identical knee length skirts and seven identical blouses. There were packs of cheap underwear and tights, still sealed in their supermarket plastic wrapping. The clothes were all cheap, made of nylon and other man made fibres. A single pair of shoes sat at the bottom of the wardrobe - black, shiny, with short heels. Elenor dressed and discovered the clothes were all the wrong size.

The card tied to her wrist had allowed her to open the door, which led out into a small corridor. She followed the corridor into a dining room where breakfast had been laid out in anticipation of her waking up. Cereal, toast, fruit juice and coffee sat beside a hot plate containing a generous helping of eggs, bacon and sausages. Elenor found she had a ravenous appetite. As there was no one around, Elenor sat down and helped herself to food, eating like someone who hadn't seen a proper meal in days. Atom Man watched Elenor through the lens of camera eleven as she shoveled food into her mouth. He made a further note in his journal and smiled behind his plastic mask.

Having finished her breakfast, Elenor explored the rooms that were available to her. There were several doors that led to a kitchen, a study, and an exercise room. There were also several doors that she couldn't open. Elenor knocked on them all, but got no response. One thing all the rooms had in common was the absence of windows. Some of the walls had sliding steel shutters locked firmly in place. Elenor guessed that behind the shutters, had she been able to open them, she would have found windows. The furnishings were all very 1950s in style and content. The place reeked of an Old World aesthetic - a yearning for times gone by. Elenor found it all very suffocating and conservative with a small 'c'.

Elenor spent some time in the study, running her fingers along the spines of heavy textbooks and scientific journals. There was some fiction, but most of the titles dated from the nineteenth century. She found a few pulp novels, their spines taped together, from the 1930s and 40s, and some crime novels by contemporary authors, none of whom she'd read before.

Before long Elenor grew bored. She retired to the lounge and settled down on the sofa. She kicked off her badly fitting shoes and waited for the inevitable to happen.

Brighton Beach

Harry Stone sat on a deck chair as he made a transatlantic call to his girlfriend, Melanie, in the States. It was a lovely sunny day in Brighton and the beach was already getting busy with day-trippers and locals. Harry was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, plastic flip flops and a white T-shirt with the words 'Public Enemy Number One' written across his chest. A rather severe hair cut and a pair of wrap around sunglasses constituted his disguise for the day.

"Actually, it's not bad here, except that the beach is all stones and pebbles. I've had an ice cream and I'm just soaking up some sun. Carl is down at the amusement arcade with a local girl he met last night. How's everything at home?"

"The kids have been playing up again, Harry. They miss you, and so do I. I'm really scared. I'm worried you won't be able to get out of the country. I heard on the news that the police are still looking for you."

"Yeah, and that's why we have to lie low for a while, love. We'd be picked up for certain if we tried to slip out of England now. I've made plans to obtain a hydrofoil in a couple of weeks and we're going to use that to cross the channel to Spain. Viva Espania and all that."

"It's so unfair. Most of the people who died were killed by Atom Man, and yet you're getting the blame for it. You only killed a few people yourself."

"Tell me about it. The police here are blowing the incident out of all proportion. Listen, I love you, Melanie, and I want you to know that I'm thinking about you every night. We will get out of here and when I get back to New York I'm going to book us all a holiday, somewhere in the Far East. Bali perhaps?"

"I'd love to go to Bali!"

"Bali it is then. Check that your passports aren't out of date and I'll see you in a few weeks. I'll ring again tomorrow. I love you, Melanie."

"Oh God, Harry, I want to fuck you so bad. Get out of that country, please!"

Harry laughed. "Bye, Melanie."

"Bye, Harry."

Harry switched his cell phone off and returned it to the pocket in his shorts. He lay back in his deck chair and pictured Melanie's tits and ass. He smiled.

That house in Essex...

"Oh God, you scared me!" Elenor brought her hands down from her mouth and regarded the short, costumed figure standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," said Atom Man, "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Atom Man. This is my house."

"Where... am I?" Elenor sat back down on the sofa, trying to seem calm and collected. "What's happened to me?"

"You were caught up in a terrorist assault on a building. One of the terrorists took you hostage and tried to kill you. I saved your life."

"You... saved... my life?"

"Yes. I'm Atom Man - I save lives."

"I've... seen you on the TV. You're a superhero, aren't you?" Elenor willed herself to relax. She had heard of this man - he was, apparently, one of the good guys. But, and it was a big but, there was something definitely wrong about all of this. Why was she here? Why wasn't she in a hospital? Why were there shutters over all the windows? She regarded the masked man nervously.

Atom Man walked around the sofa and sat down in the leather armchair on the opposite side of the room. He crossed his legs and watched his guest.

"You must understand," he began, "you very nearly died. Only my intervention saved your life."

"My throat..." Elenor touched the metal plug. "I have this thing in my throat..."

"A terrorist, claiming the name 'Bloodhawk', cut your throat, Elenor. Your larynx was destroyed. By all accounts you should have died. I brought you back from the brink of death and implanted that device so that you would be able to speak."

Elenor shook her head in disbelief. "My voice is wrong... I... I don't sound like this..."

"I'm sorry," replied Atom Man. "I had no way of knowing what your voice sounded like. I borrowed the voice patterns from a computer game. It was the best I could do."

"I'm a freak... You've made me into a freak!"

"A freak? I don't think so, young lady. You use that word very liberally. If I was to remove my mask I could show you the true meaning of the word freak. Radiation poisoning isn't pretty. Over the years I have gradually destroyed myself in order that I could fight crime in this country. I have sacrificed my health, my looks, my chance at a normal life... you on the other hand will not have to deal with any of these problems."

"I don't understand." Elenor brushed her long blonde hair away from her face. "Why am I here? Where am I? Why aren't I in a hospital?"

"Because..." Atom Man stood up and walked back toward the doorway. "Because, Elenor, I am dying; because you are an opportunity that I could not ignore; because there must be someone to carry on my work when I am gone. And because I have no one else to turn to."

"This is all..." Elenor got up from the sofa, "I'm sorry, but I can't deal with this... you're frightening me."

"You are dead, do you understand that?" Atom Man moved toward Elenor. She circled round behind the sofa, keeping her distance. "I mean by that, you would be dead had I not saved your life. You owe your life to me..."

"Please... I don't like this... please keep away..."

"Don't you understand the rules?"

"I don't understand anything you're saying, but you're frightening me."

"No! It's no good being frightened! You have to be strong, ruthless, determined... and you must understand the rules... it has always been this way. I saved your life; I implanted the sonic device in your throat for a reason. Ever since I began this lonely crusade I have dreamt of having a partner, a Robin to my Batman, and now providence has delivered you into my hands. This is how it works - this is how it has always worked. Since the 1940's people like you have, through misfortune, been given the opportunity to take up the struggle against the sick cancer that eats away at the heart of our society. God has given you a chance, Elenor, through your misfortune. I have given you the power to fight crime by my side. This is how it will always be."

"I..."

"Together we will blaze a path of glory and, when I am dead, you will inherit my life's work. You will receive my torch and continue the fight in my name."

Elenor stared at him, aghast. "You're mad..."

"Oh no," Atom Man smiled behind his mask. "Let me show you what I have done to you..."

A café on Brighton seafront

Carl stirred the food on his plate with a fork. The chips were undercooked and the bacon consisted mostly of fat and grease. The eggs were runny and anemic looking.

"I told you you should have gone for the chicken. Even the worst cook in the world can't ruin chicken." Harry folded his newspaper and placed it by the side of the table.

"Did you speak to our patrons?" asked Carl.

"Yes..." Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. "Not good news I'm afraid. In short, they aren't pleased with us. I've been warned not to call again. They're contracting the job out to a super villain - some little bastard called the Cipher. Needless to say I'm not very happy about any of this."

"Who's the Cipher?" asked Carl.

"Oh, don't start all that again. He's some costumed super villain - I really don't know and I really don't care. He was probably bitten by a radioactive crossword puzzle and for all I know he knitted his costume out of back copies of the Reader's Digest. Does it matter?"

"I guess not, Harry."

"And there's another thing." Harry opened his newspaper to page 5 and showed it to Carl. There, directly beneath an article on genetic tests in Wales was a report entitled 'American superhero - Bloodhawk enters the UK'. "That armoured tank who calls himself Bloodhawk is in the country, and it doesn't take a genius to guess why."

"Fuck, Harry - isn't he invulnerable? Didn't he used to be in the Tabula Rasa? What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Carl, I really don't know."

A Training Room in Essex

Atom Man closed the door. Elenor watched him nervously as he paced around the room. She wanted to go home - she wanted an end to all of this.

"And now," said Atom Man, "I'm going to kill you." He turned round and lunged suddenly at Elenor. She threw herself back against the exercise machines and screamed. And at the precise moment she screamed, Atom Man was struck hard by an invisible force, as if he had just run straight into a wall. Elenor watched in shocked amazement as the superhero was flung across the room. His flailing body struck a rack of weights and sent them toppling to the floor. The light fitting above Elenor's head exploded, showering her with glass. The door behind Atom Man blew off its hinges and crashed into the open corridor.

Elenor stared aghast at the carnage.

"Well done." Atom Man picked himself up from the floor and dusted down his costume. "I knew it would work."

"What?" Elenor held her hands up and readied herself for a fight. She didn't understand what had happened, but she wasn't about to let Atom Man get near her again. "Keep away from me! I don't care how powerful you are - I'll fight you!"

Atom Man laughed and threw his hands in the air as if to surrender. "But this is excellent!" he cried. "Don't you understand? You threw me across the room and blew the door off its hinges with your scream. You did this!"

Elenor dropped into a fighting crouch and watched the Atom closely. "Don't come any closer."

"Listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you - I feigned an attack to make you scream. I had to induce a situation that would trigger the sonic weapon in your throat. That device doesn't just replace your larynx."

"I did this?" Elenor glanced around the room. "That's impossible..."

"No it's not!" Atom Man was almost jumping with joy. "I invented this device years ago. You'll soon learn that a certain pitch of your voice - a high intensity scream - will trigger the sonic projector in your throat. You'll need to practice of course, but eventually you'll be able to reach that pitch whenever you want, not just when something scares you. You'll also learn to control the pitch to funnel the sound. And there are other tricks too... given time..." He smiled.

"I want you to let me go. I want to go home." Elenor screamed, but this time her scream didn't do anything. She stared at Atom Man as he stood patiently watching her.

"No... you see you're just shouting now - totally the wrong pitch. That won't do anything to me. It will take you some time to practice, but you'll have plenty of time to do so here."

"Oh God... this is insane - you've kidnapped me..." Elenor tried to shout again, to pitch her voice correctly, but nothing was happening.

Atom Man found all this very funny. "I can see it in your eyes, Elenor. You desperately want to incapacitate me so that you can escape, hmm? But it's not that easy. And anyway," his voice suddenly changed, became colder, more serious, "if I honestly thought you were going to try to kill me, I would snap your neck before you could make a sound." He held the fingers of his right hand for Elenor to see. "What the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh. I gave you your life, Elenor Haines. You owe me."

"I don't want any of this! I don't want to be a super hero! I just want to go home! Please, just let me go home!" Elenor stumbled backwards.

"No. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"I have rights, you bastard!"

"No you don't."

"You're insane! You're fucking insane! Oh please, God... HELP ME SOMEONE!"

Atom Man stepped forward and slapped Elenor across the face. She began to scream and set about kicking and punching him. Atom Man barely felt the blows. He seized her hands and pushed her down onto her knees.

"Rule number one, Elenor - no swearing."

"Wh... what?" She stared up at him. This close, she could see his eyes through the plastic mask, and she could see the skin around those eyes. She could see the red swelling of the skin and the dark port-like blotches around his eyelids.

"I am going to train you to be a super hero, to fight crime by my side, but I will teach you the proud tradition of the Golden Age of heroes." He tightened his grip on Elenor's wrists. Elenor grimaced with pain, but refused to cry. "We do not imitate the vulgar heroes that inhabit the world today with their unwanted profanities and large machine guns. Heroes like us, Elenor, obey certain rules, and the first of those rules is no swearing. We're better than that." Atom Man took a handful of her strawberry-blonde hair and yanked it out by the roots. "The only way you'll learn, Elenor. Don't make me do this again." He released her and turned his back. "Nemo me impune lacessit."

"I can't do this... you've chosen the wrong woman... I just write for a magazine... please let me go..."

"Vox et praeterea nihil." Atom Man turned round to face Elenor again. "It's no good protesting against your destiny. Accept this for what it is; the chance to do some good in the world; the chance to make a difference. There is so much evil in our world today, and so few hardy souls, such as us, capable and willing to fight it. But you need a name. I considered this for several days while you were sleeping. I'm going to call you Argent. Now then," Atom Man smiled pleasantly. "I don't know about you, but I'm quite ready for a nice cup of tea and some Dundee cake. Care to join me in the living room?"

The Ministry for Secular Affairs, Whitehall

Mr Price carefully removed all the documents and assorted papers relating to Atom Man from the blue plastic file in front of him and placed them all into a new red plastic file. He pressed the buzzer on his desk and sat back in his antique leather chair. The door to his office opened. A young woman dressed in an old-fashioned pencil skirt and white blouse walked into Mr Price's office.

"Sir?" she asked.

"A red file for Atom Man, Miss Newton." He tapped his pipe against the rim of his stainless steel waste paper basket and refilled it with fresh tobacco.

"A red file, sir?"

"Yes, Miss Newton." He pointed to the file as it sat patiently in his out basket. Miss Newton picked it up and tucked it under her arm.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Cancel my three o'clock appointment with Internal Affairs and tell Jenkins that I'll speak to him tomorrow. And, um, tell me, Miss Newton, is that dreadful American fellow still in the building?"

"Bloodhawk, sir?"

"Yes, that's the fellow."

"He's in records, sir. He's been there all afternoon."

"Damned impertinent chap. They're all like that in America, you know. No breeding - no sense of manners. They're almost as bad as our working classes."

"Yes sir."

"Well, I want a full list of all the records he's looked at, once he's gone. Make sure a print out is sent to me. If he's still in records when I leave, you can have the report sent to me at my club."

"Very well, sir."

"There is one other thing, Miss Newton. How's the new boyfriend?"

"Oh..." Kim blushed, "Mark's fine, sir. We're getting on really well. Did I mention him?"

"No you didn't, Miss Newton. I had to hear about him from the typing pool."

"We're very happy, sir."

"That is unfortunate."

"I... I beg your pardon, sir?" Kim couldn't understand where this was leading.

"I took the liberty of running a security check on the fellow. His file included his voting preferences." Mr Price tapped his fingers and sniffed derisively.

"I don't understand..."

"We all have to make sacrifices sometime in our lives, Miss Newton. I'm sure you'll find another boyfriend in time. That'll be all."

"Sir?"

"I said that'll be all." Mr Price picked up his next report and opened the blue plastic file. He didn't look up again until he heard the door close and Miss Newton's footsteps clicking down the hallway.

The House in Essex

"You've been sulking for several days now, Elenor. This isn't getting us anywhere."

Elenor sat in the armchair with her feet pulled up beneath her. She flicked through one of the magazines that Atom Man periodically brought back from his travels. She didn't say anything.

"But I am pleased with your progress in learning to handle your sonic powers. So, I think it's about time I gave you your present."

Elenor looked up from the magazine. "What present?"

"Come and see," replied Atom Man. He left the living room. Elenor sniffed and slowly got to her feet, stretched her arms and yawned. Any break from the numbing routine of the house was better than nothing, so she followed the superhero into her own bedroom. Atom Man sat on the edge of her bed and pointed to Elenor's wardrobe. "It's in there."

Elenor raised her eyebrows and walked to the wardrobe. She had complained to Atom Man about the poor quality of the clothes he had bought for her. As she had guessed, Atom Man had purchased them from a market stall. Perhaps he had at last gone out and bought something a little more expensive. Elenor opened the wardrobe and lifted out a new garment that hung from a wooden hanger. She turned it round, puzzled. It was a soft, silk-like, short black dress with a vertical yellow stripe down the front.

"What's this supposed to be?"

"Your costume, Elenor. I designed it myself on my computer."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Elenor held out the garment. "You seriously expect me to go out dressed like that? It's only one step up from being classed as underwear. Wouldn't something like motor cycle leathers be rather more practical?"

Atom Man smiled and shook his head. "You've got ten minutes to get changed. I need some time to instruct you in some equipment you'll be carrying."

"What? What do you mean 'equipment'? What do you mean 'get changed'?"

"It's time, Argent."

"Time? Time for what?"

"Your baptism of fire. I've finally discovered where those Bloodhawk terrorists have been hiding these last few weeks. And now, you and I, Argent and Atom Man, are going to bring them to justice." Atom Man grinned broadly. "See - everything has turned out nice again!"