"This stops now," Phoenix Talon announced grimly.
    "Nicholas Cage, not bad," I shrugged philosophically.

[Aside: Phoenix Talon]

[Aside: Scott]

    That evening, I picked up the ringing phone. Phoenix Talon had gone back downstairs to continue destroying the place.
    "Needle? I'm in Worcester," Scott said.
    This is not good. "And? What's the damage report?"
    "Somebody kidnapped Larry and drugged all but two of the police."
    "Larry was kidnapped in Worcester? I'll grab the other two and meet you out there."
    "I called Reilly, the state troopers and what's left of the Worcester police force are headed to the Worcester police station to try and take control of it, lest hordes of happy, smiling peacenik cops invade the streets."
    I went downstairs. "Phoenix Talon, if you're through throwing things around down there...."
    "What?"
    "Larry's disappeared somewhere in Worcester, Scott's out there."
    "It'll take a while to get out there...."
    "For some of you."
    Scott had taken one of the hoverbikes; Phoenix Talon and Thunderbolt shared the second, with the former driving (never mind that Paul was a naval pilot before he joined us, and that Phoenix Talon's driving occasionally leaves something to be desired).
    "I'll meet whatever's left of you two out there." I told him where to find us and took off.
    Scott filled us in as soon as everyone had assembled at the hotel. "It looks like Larry's been kidnapped."
    "This related to that thing you were having him look into?" I asked.
    "Looks like it is, yeah. Apparently he got caught in an ambush in a bar brawl."
    "Must have been a pretty ugly sight."
    "Bartender said it was the second strangest thing he's ever seen."
    "The first strangest was...?" Phoenix Talon invited.
    "Me."
    "Oh."
    "Go figure. Do you know who did it? Aside from 1-800-HENCHMEN," I added.
    "I think it was somebody called the Postman, like the letter says." He showed us the note. No fingerprints; the guy's not that dumb.
    "Any relation to Postal Employee Man?" Phoenix asked.
    "I think it's the same guy with a better outfit."
    "Well, it's good to see him moving up in the world."
    Scott shrugged. "He's no longer dressed in a giant white costume made to look like an envelope."
    Phoenix Talon shook his head sadly. "I saw the picture; looked like a huge pair of BVDs."
    "Well now apparently he's dressed in some sort of blue one-piece tunic with a postal employee's cap."
    "Isn't that a federal offense?" Thunderbolt asked sternly.
    "Yeah, that's gonna be what's gonna slow him down," Scott replied with unusual sarcasm, no doubt worried about Larry. "'I would do this, but I'm not going to break a federal postal law?' So apparently in order to make sure that his getaway was somewhat unimpeded, he drugged a delivery of birthday cards to the local police department, so they're all kind of loopy right now." One of the troopers had been shot earlier in the week and would spending his birthday in the hospital, and the plan had been that all the others would send him cards. No one could remember whose idea it had been.
    "Okay. So you're saying we are the law right now?" Phoenix Talon straightened his shoulders.
    "No!" I snapped.
    "No, we're the Revolution," Scott reminded him. "The state troopers are here, and there was one car of Worcester police that was too busy actually doing something to come back."
    I glowered at my impulsive teammate. "Phoenix Talon, it may take all three of us to spank you, but don't think we won't."
    "The only real clue is that dust, can somebody take a look at it for me? I can't smell or feel," Scott reminded us.
    The footprints on the carpet smelled like old dust. There were none in the hallway, which given the hotel's cleaning routines narrowed down the time our friend had been there to early afternoon.
    Scott looked around at the rest of us. "So where's the old disused post office?"
    "I guess you just have to think like a theme villain," Phoenix Talon admired.
    It was long after dark by then. The place, when we found it, had obviously been abandoned for at least a decade. A nice old-fashioned city building with columns and marble. Pity they'd left it to rot. Phoenix Talon hooked a line over one of the decorative cornices and snuck in through a second-story window while Scott became a gas and slipped beneath the front door. I did a quick reconnaissance outside; nothing out of place, no getaway vehicle with the keys in the ignition.

[Aside: Phoenix Talon and Scott]

    "I don't know, I just don't like it," Scott was saying when I entered the upper part of the sorting room. Everything certainly seemed to be under control, no one in any immediate danger, though Larry was still fastened to a giant postcard, which had presumably been carrying him to a grisly death.
    "I do not recall requesting your permission!" The Postman was backing towards the wall, apparently recalling the situation. "But now that I'm maneuvered into a position where I have you all—ha!" He pulled out his stamp gun and fired. The stamp expanded hugely, threatening to wrap around both Thunderbolt and Scott.
    Not threatening very seriously, mind.
    "Missed!" the Postman muttered irritably.
    "Would you consider just doing this without us having to beat you up?" Scott inquired courteously.
    "Mr. Oliver, is it allowed for me to do this without getting beaten up?" He deferred to greater experience.
    "There is the obligatory sock to the jaw," the ex-villain noted. "Hold on." A knife blade extended from the toe of his shoe, cutting free of the stamp holding him to the giant card. A series of swift, remarkably agile movements, and he was free. Not bad at all for a man in his sixties. "All right, I'll be down in just a second. Anyone else want to punch this guy?"
    "No," Scott said, "but if he's very nice to us we'll turn him over to the state police rather than the locals, who know he's the one who drugged their cards."
    The Postman's expression grew apprehensive. "I'll send you all cards," he told us hopefully.
    "Sure you will," I agreed.
    "I suppose just for style's sake...." Phoenix Talon whipped a line around him, holding him securely. "There you go."
    "Everyone happy?" I asked a bit sarcastically.
    "The stamp gun's an interesting start, but you've gotta work on that," Scott informed the novice villain.
    "Don't give him ideas," Thunderbolt suggested.
    Larry walked over, looked the Postman up and down slowly, and lashed out—stopping at the last instant to give the man a light pat on the cheek. "Made you look. Ow," he added as he turned away. "Whoever it was hit me on the back of the neck certainly knows how to hit."
    "Henchmen?" I suggested. "You were saying something about this being a setup, Scott?"
    "Well, according to the guy who was talking in the bar, apparently there was a whole bunch of people extra in the fight suddenly. So it might have just been a whole bunch of locals decided to play, or he might have had some backup."

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