The Philly Crew

Chapter - dang, I just can't stop doing this Himself and his beloved employees have returned to the secret office in the deserted post
office box in Ansonia Station expecting to be met by happy signs of the approaching festive season. Imagine their shock and horror when they realize that their orbital defense shield has been penetrated and ... they've been robbed!

Each one runs to see if his or her most prized possession is still there. For Osiris, it's his supply of magic blue answer ink. For Rivergirl, it's her multi-pocketed old lady purse which has room for - well, all the things an aged and slightly dotty personal assistant might need.
And there are happy shouts of joy when they both discover that their treasures remain untouched. They turn hopeful faces towards their Beloved Employer, only to see him slump sadly against the wall. "They got my small batch bourbon," he says. "It's gone."
Everyone is appalled. Why Himself - the one who has graciously borne all their idiosyncrasies, and who has brought such disparate characters together and given them a home - should be the one to suffer such an attack is unfathomable.
The lawyer quickly steps to his side. "Sir," she says softly, "it may comfort you to know that, both scientifically and metaphorically, nothing is ever really gone."
"My bourbon is," he says. "Captain D, report to the office immediately."

Captain D, who has been waiting for that kind of summons for far too long, appears immediately, and organizes our less-than-happy band to search for clues. Rivergirl, with her well known culinary sensitivities, finds the first sign of the intruders - a substantial crumb broken from a fortune cookie. Osiris soon finds a small piece of paper torn from a route map. Based on his vast experience as a world traveler, he immediately realizes that it is a map of the mid-Atlantic states. Finally, their Beloved Employers sees a narrow strip of paper with the letters "ello" still visable under the food stains.
"Jello?" asks the enigmatic Nep. "Perhaps purple jello?" Every one ponders the clue.
"No," Himself announces. "Not jello. Othello. It's the program from a production of Othello."
Captain D takes all the clues. "Okay, we're looking for a gang that lives somewhere in the mid-Atlantic region, likes Shakespeare, and eats Chinese food. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the baddest gang of all?"
Everyone knows the answer, of course. "It's the Philly crew."
"Sir," Osiris pleads, "I truly hope you're not considering going after them. They're unstoppable. They're unbelievable. They're always pushing the boundaries and my patience.
They're..."
"Actually, they're here," observes the lawyer, looking behind one of the few remaining boxes of dead batteries stacked in the corner of the office. Captain D jumps forward and places the Philly crew in custody and begins to question them to ascertain the whereabouts of said small bottle of small batch bourbon. "I ask this in a spirit
of concern and even, dare I say it, affection," she snarls. "Where's the stuff?" "It's right here," sobs Scorp. "Please, Sir, don't be angry. We didn't mean any harm. We just felt so badly that we didn't give you a gift in Tulsa, and we wanted to find out your favorite brand. We're sure the Europeans are going to do something wonderful for you, and we didn't want to be ashamed."
"But why didn't you just ask?" asked Himself. "My staff answer questions. They would have helped you."
"Yeah," said Osiris, "I sometimes tell."
"That's right," said Rivergirl. "Helping is our mission. It's what we do."

The End

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