"It was a whole bunch of locals deciding to play," Larry said firmly. "You think I can't spot extras?"
    "You might have been a little busy when they came in the door," Scott pointed out.
    "Possible. Possible."
    "Part of that had you pinned to the floor and was stapling your head thing?"
    "Yeah." He stretched the kinks out and smiled. "Thanks for coming, I never doubted you for a minute. What were you doing in Worcester?"
    "Looking for you."
    Larry's eyes widened just a trifle. "You came to see the show."
    "He did, we didn't," Phoenix Talon clarified.
    "Aren't your tickets for Thursday night?"
    "M-hm."
    Larry smiled. "Well, it's always good to know that you care, and that's what matters."
    Scott, as always, was forthright. "I admit I had a question about whether or not you'd gotten into directing."
    "Directing?"
    "These guys," he indicated the quiet Postman.
    "Producing?" The Muse radiated wounded dignity. "It's a dilution of the craft. No. Although directing does...."
    "See, if you wouldn't keep getting that expression all the time, Scott wouldn't have to go check up on you," I told him.
    "And if he hadn't checked up on me, I'd have been folded, spindled and mutilated," he replied cheerfully. "Everything has a symmetry to it. I've never been in a deathtrap before; is that what it was like for you?"
    "I don't know, they just put me in a box." Scott shrugged.
    "Ours was a lot more painful," I told him dryly.
    "Doc Cold tried to kill me," Phoenix Talon muttered.
    "But did you whine about it?" Thunderbolt asked him.
    "No!"
    I reminded him, "He tried to kill all of us, if you'll recall."
    "I wasn't here yet," Scott piped up.
    "Nor was he," I realized, looking at Paul. Our roster has seen a lot of changes since then.
    After a few more reminiscences about that other villain, we all brought our minds back to business. Scott called in the state police, who grinned, patted the Postman on the head and said, "We like you!" as they took him away, still laughing over the fate of their municipal brethren.
    "I was thinking about this four-hour turnaround time thing," I mentioned on the way out. "That's pretty impressive."
    "Got him out, got him a new outfit, got him out to Worcester...." Scott enumerated.
    "In time to meet Larry."
    "Heck, if they'd taken another couple hours he might have had razor-edged postcards and stamp-stream guns."
    "I shudder to contemplate."
    "A mailbag of deadly postal implements."
    "Well, since he's broken bail rather decisively, perhaps they won't let him out again." I hoped.
    "Yeah, normally you should probably at least wait until your trial."
    "Maybe they have a special breakout function," Thunderbolt said.
    "Who did post bail for him?" I thought to ask suddenly.
    "I don't know."
    Thunderbolt suggested, "1-800-HENCHMEN. Probably under a cover organization."
    "I'm sorry I just unplugged the deathtrap, but I just didn't like it," Scott added to Larry later on, as we all headed over to the K. Robeson offices. "I found it aesthetically unpleasing, I'm sorry."
    "Just to further my personal education, what should you have done with the deathtrap?" I inquired. I still don't really fathom how these people think—I found my sole deathtrap to date a thoroughly unpleasant experience.
    "Either I should have come in and torn the envelope from the rack, or perhaps reached out and smashed the working mechanism. So, Larry, are you going to continue with the tour?"
    "Oh certainly, certainly. How was the understudy?" he asked.
    "I didn't really stay for the performance."
    "Once you found out I wasn't there? Well, now I'll never know."
    "Oh hey, watch the envelope he left on your desk. He was using drugged envelopes earlier, which wouldn't have bothered me, but I wouldn't have noticed."
    "Ah. Okay, I'll keep that in mind."
    "The little death threat that he left on your desk with 'thus shall fall all who stand against us' or something."
    "Okay...."
    "The wording needs work," I allowed.
    "The amusing thing is that the stamp was uncanceled and it was addressed only by the zip code."
    "You always use your postal zip code," Larry informed him a bit sternly, then added, "They're definitely recruiting statewide."
    The office lights were on, despite the late hour. Stephanie was sitting behind the desk.
    "Evening, Stephanie," Scott greeted her cheerfully.
    "Oh, hi." She looked a bit startled.
    "Why's everyone here so late?"
    "Not everyone, just me. I was checking up on something."
    "Checking up on something? Anything we can help with?" Larry inquired.
    "No, no."
    "Fair enough," he allowed. "It's not as if we don't sometimes use the computers for personal searches. Not that we'd waste any company time or anything with that," he added. "We do need to enter additional information... oh Stephanie, this is Thunderbolt."
    "Ma'am." He nodded to her.
    "Hello." She smiled.
    "Anything else that you found out about this guy? How long ago was he let out?" Larry asked, settling at a computer.
    "Six hours," Scott told him. "Costume change, moved up there...."
    "Impressive turnaround time. They probably had the costume pre-set."
    "Course it's gonna look relatively bad on his bail report."
    "Yeah." He tapped away for a couple of minutes. "Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any record of the building, Lord knows how long he's actually been using it as a headquarters. If he's really prepared, he might have four or five of them."
    "We have to get a handle on these people fast," I observed. "They're moving out of 'annoyance.'"
    Larry nodded. "They're growing exponentially, which is what's worrying me."
    "It is weird that they can find so many people willing to go along with this," Phoenix Talon said.

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