"They offered me a contract to use my likeness for the cartoon. On my wife's advice, I didn't sign. They said they were just as happy having the police contact being, 'someone more ethnically inclined.' Better PR or something."
    "Irish is ethnic," I said mildly.
    Reilly shrugged. ;"This is Boston."
    "They could have gone with a slightly overaggressive blonde woman who's actually working for the villains," Scott said brightly.
    "I'm not bringing that up to them. I really don't think you should bring that up to them."
    "I don't think it should ever get mentioned, actually," I muttered. "Until she shows up again in some far country that we'll probably never even hear about. I think that pretty much covers everything?" We adjourned for the day.

[Aside: Phoenix Talon]

August 14, 1987

Just once, I would like to be able to go out, have a nice evening, without something like this happening. Once. Is that too much to ask?
    Package arrived this morning from Molly's favorite shop, with an admittedly gorgeous assortment of seven dresses that actually fit me correctly; I don't even get the petty satisfaction of not liking them. I chose a conservative dark blue one for the evening and tried not to think about cost. Molly moves in a financial world at least two orders of magnitude removed from my budget. I had to spend a while practicing moving in the damn thing, of course, before we left for the theater. It just felt strange, looked strange, like it was someone else in the mirror. I don't even know if I could say what about it bothers me.
    The place is small, seats about 250, and tonight it was entirely full. There were cocktails beforehand; I stuck to Perrier. Thunderbolt was in a suit, and Scott had stuck his little magnetic bow tie somewhere around what might as well be his neck. Dawn was gorgeous as always, Albert wore his usual formal dress, and Larry is never less than impeccably turned out. As a group, we looked pretty good, I think.
    Dr. Habiki came over to say hello. "Very good to see you, I am glad that you were able to make it."
    "We're very pleased to be able to attend," I returned.
    "I see that Phoenix Talon is not with you?"
    "He, uh, is on duty tonight."
    "I had hoped that he would be in attendance. Alas, such is not the case. We are very glad to see you here as well. Please, enjoy yourselves."
    Looking through the program later, I noted that the program was being largely sponsored by a Japanese biotech firm.
    The lights dimmed, we all went in and found our seats, and the show began. I did find it interesting, what we got to see anyway, though I can see why it's not to Phoenix Talon's taste. Larry seemed to approve of the quality.
    Halfway through, there came a grinding, rending noise, and a large chunk of the ceiling was torn away. Of course.
    "Ahah! Here you are! Watching these stupid, foolish foreigners!" a magnified voice boomed from some sort of robot. "Don't you understand our culture is superior! I, General Motors, will show you the strength of the American society!" It looked like a '49 Roadster that had seen serious modification into a vaguely humanoid robot. "Ha! Now I'll scatter them back to the ocean where they belong!" the robot announced, reaching in toward the shocked actors.
    "No, there will be none of that...." I extended a bubble over the stage and dialed the emergency code to Phoenix Talon.
    "Let them climb back into their miserable foreign small cars with their lousy well superior gas mileage but no muscle whatsoever! I'll show you muscle cars!" the robot threatened.
    "As an Asian-American myself, I am offended by your rhetoric, sir," I informed it mildly.
    A massive steel hand rebounded from the shield. The cast was panicking and trying to get offstage, the audience clogging the aisles.
    "Stop defending them!" he, or it, demanded. "You have American blood in you, don't you?"
    "Actually fairly questionable." Technically I was born, or produced, or whatever, in the US. On the other hand, as Shannon's clone, do I inherit her nationality? I still don't know anything about her parentage. Not that it's really important.
    "Excuse me sir, but I think I'm going to have to pummel you now," Scott said politely, streaking towards the giant machine. The impact of his liquid form staggered it slightly but did not seem to do any damage.
    "See! A Japanese car would have crumbled under that impact!" General Motors boasted.
    "So would an American car. I know, I've beaten up American cars."
    "I'll get you for that!"
    And with that, Scott began leading the robot away from the theater. There was brief panic as things popped up from the shoulders, but they were just headlights and not the half-expected missile banks.
    Thunderbolt made a try at the thing's batteries, but they seemed to be shielded somehow, while Scott taunted the robot about its low gas mileage and lack of a catalytic converter.
    "Catalytic converters emasculated the American car! It's all an environmentalist plot!" Motors roared.
    Well, actually, it was, but regardless; I remained inside the theater, making certain that no one was in danger from falling masonry as the crowd fled to safety.
    Scott tried again.
    "That's the best you can do?" General Motors taunted.
    "Well, actually no. I was really kind of hoping that you'd just give up before we have to break some rather large hunks of municipal property."
    "Municipal property... of course!" it thundered.
    "Please, don't attack me with those electrical wires...." Scott invited.
    Thunderbolt gave it another try, but had no better luck.
    "Municipal property...." The robot thudded across the street, ripping up chunks of pavement. "Ha! This one was built in Japan!" He picked up a bus. The driver prudently dove out the window. "Ha! Samurai this!" He turned back to the theater, intention clear. Scott went to gas form, blanketing the area in fog.

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