"Ah, Wendell, ye flatter me. Alright, Herbie, are ye comin' or not?"

"Thank you, Professor, and thank you, Ms. Cat. It seems I have no choice. Not that I say that of regret. This adventure started with you and me, Hellcat, and now we shall continue it together as well."

Herbie watches Hellcat place the runes. Doubt begins to gnaw at Herbie -- this magic is something he is not comfortable with. He'd be much more comfortable with his hover platform-- a device he knows is sound from construction by his own hands. Still, Hellcat's rich red hair and sparkling eyes...

When Hellcat finishes arranging her magical stones, she reaches out a hand automatically to include Herbie. Gingerly, Herbie takes her hand in his massive paw, and catches his breath...

Hellcat's eyes flash with an emerald fire as she chants in a low voice, invoking spirits and long-forgotten Powers....and before Herbie can blink, he finds himself in a dingy (but homey) apartment. Hellcat quickly makes her preparations, having telephoned ahead and woken some old friends, telling them to prepare for their arrival...and what to prepare for.

Hellcat leads Herbie and Dr. Vaughn down to the basement of her apartment complex, where she quickly but expertly scribes two concentric circles in white chalk, and between the two sketches a number of symbols in yellow.

"Be sure to erase these when we've gone" she reminds Dr. Vaughn, placing her haversacks across Herbie's shoulders. "Hold these for me, please, Big Fella" she requests. She urges Herbie to close his eyes, and he hears her voice chanting in a low, singsong voice. Slowly he can feel a strange tension in the room, and his fur begins to stand up. He quells the ancient fears of the Beast that rise from the unknown, and a wave of naseua sweeps across him quickly. Herbie sniffs the air - its completely different. He opens his eyes...they're in a park! "Hellcat....are you well?"

Patsy is before him, and where she stood before, she now kneels, and only her outhrust hand keeps her from planting her face in the neatly cut grass. "Aye, that I am - I'm just happy to see the Olde Country" she says, the quaver in her voice contradicting her words. Quickly, she regains her feet. "We're in Ormeau Park, in downtown Belfast" she informs him. "We're home".

Patsy leads him through the shadows down Ravenhill Road, and across the Albert Bridge and the Lagan River. Along Laganbank Road she led him, to a small but neatly kept apartment house set back from the worn shops on the street. Down some steps, and through an unlocked door, and Herbie can feel the narrowness of the old architecture crowding his nascent claustropobia.

The two of them step into a dark chamber, and a voice sounds from the darkness. "Its about time you've come home, mi faile. Shield your eyes." A second later a click from a wall switch heralds the immediate coming of light, and Herbie is grateful he took the unknown voice's advice. They are in a small room, with a computer and electronic workbench. Two men in blue jeans and leather jackets stand with AK-47 assault rifles at the ready, and a short, black-haired woman with a red "Frodo Lives" t-shirt and full tweed skirt holds a Styer GB90 automatic pistol at the ready. "You didn't lie, Hellcat. He is a strange, big monkey - I thought you were having a bit of a joke with us." Her voice was playful, but the smile in her voice never touched her eyes. "Its been some time, and you have been out of touch for a long time, perhaps too long."

All of the weapons which had remained at port-arms snapped down to bear on Hellcat and Herbie.

"Give us some reason why we should let you leave here alive?"

"Brazil nuts!" Herbie's deep voice rumbles in his massive chest as he quietly regards the armed group opposing him.

Instinctively, he sidles suddenly in front of Hellcat, to guard her with his hulking frame. "Ms. Hellcat," he whispers, "are you certain these are people that can help us?"

"Allo, Cass. Been a bit busy since I've been gone, ay? I'll give ye two good reasons. First, I know ye can't pass up a chance to put a hurt on the Brits, an' I've got a helluva plan to do just such a thing. Second..." she says, turning to the gentlemen with the assault rifles.

A golden globe manifests in her palms...

"...any of ye so much as twitch an' I'll blow you, me, the ape an' alla Langenbank clear to Killarney. Now what's it gonna be?"

Some of Cass' helpers eyes widen - they had been briefed that Hellcat knew the arcane arts, but they hadn't turly believed...until now.

"Even without the second reason, the first reason would be more than suffiencent...but y'know that, doncha?" Cass laughed. "Alright Patsy, what harebrained scheme do ye be having for tweaking the limey tails this time? I'll bet its a doowsy to justify yer return." With a gesture, the guns fall to port arms, and all of the revolutionaries relax.

"Put a hurt on the Brits?" Herbie thinks. "What have I gotton my ever-beloved hairy self into!"

But Herbie quietly takes a step backward, allowing Hellcat and her ... friends?... to continue. He seriously wonders if he should have joined that Baron Zemo fellow instead.

The conspirators plan deep into the night, until Hellcat's basic plan is approved; Herbie and Hellcat will be smuggled into Wales through an ancient smuggler route while the terrorists/revolutionaries plant several explosive charges; one at Trafalgar Square, one at a pub near the Tower of London, one in a car near Big Ben, and one at the comic book shop across the street from Union Jack headquarters. Hellcat stresses "I don't want any innocents being hurt, y'know - that's not the point of the whole thing", and her IRA associates grumble, but agree.

Herbie silently stands nearby. Strangely quiet, he shuffles slightly. He feels 180 degrees from the bright and shiny larger than life world of Mr. Fantastic and the Fantastics.

The charges will be radio-detonated at 4PM, just before the closing of the British National History Museum; Hellcat will attempt to steal the artifact while Herbie remains in an alleyway across the street, trying to be unobtrusive. If Hellcat gets into trouble, Herbie can either charge to the rescue or attempt a diversion - just taking off his overcoat should be sufficient for that...

"So I get to stand to the side while everyone else steals the jewel we seek? I'm not sure whether to be elated or mortified..." Herbie grumbles. Hellcat shoots him a sharp look and Herbie's face falters.

"So... how are you going to get past the Museum security system?" asked Herbie.

"I was hoping that you might be able to whip something up" responded Hellcat.

"With what? Stone knives and bearskins?*" grumbled Herbie. "If your 'friends' can manage to provide some basics, and the specifics on the system, I might be able to try to cobble together something, but no promises!" The travel to London is not horribly exciting, but the suspense made both heroes' tempers short. They were put in the care of Daffyd McDinnus, a Welsh mercenary whose family knew the smugglers' caves of Wales better than a banker their ledger-books. Several days passed as they landed at Swansea, and travelled by van overland through Glouster, Oxford, and then London. The nights were passed in safe-houses, with Daffyd supplying both Herbie and Hellcat the materials they needed to make their diverse preparations.

Herbie sighs. "I should have asked for the stone knives and bearskins! I've had better equipment on the island of Molma Nui!"

"Look, Ape," Hellcat snaps, "You want to save the world or not!"

"And just *why* is this stone so important," Herbie draws himself up to his full 12' height, bristling. "It's a trinket! A bauble! Is it truly worth the thousands of dollars of property damage, not to mention risk to our reputation, or our very lives?!"

Hellcat doesn't waver in her on stance, merely crossing her arms and looking at her associate.

"Hrrrrrrrrrrrrr......." rumbles Herbie, who sits back down to the parts, tools, and plans. "Perhaps the best I could do with THESE would be a simple fluctuating non-undulating transmitter in terminus mode with transverse EMP pulse polarity..."

Finally, the day began, and Daffyd gave them maps, false identification materials...

"Humph, at least it wasn't a dog license..."

and a small amount of cash. "If you be needing help, use this" he says, giving them a small tin whistle. "I've made arrangements for some...ahh...emergency assistance from a different group, should ye be needing additional assistance. No thanks are necessary" he said, forestalling Hellcat and Herbie's incipient thanx, "I've been well paid, both by our mutual friends and by the warmth of yur smile" (meaning Hellcat, not Herbie). With that final word, he strolls away through the London streets and quickly vanishes.

"THANKS?" Herbie asks incredulously. "Thanks for what? His tenuous grip on reality?" Herbie stares at the tin whistle-- which looks mighty small in his massive paw. "You better hold onto this," Herbie gives it to Hellcat. "But use THESE first if you run into trouble!" (he points to the headset walkie-talkie that he cobbled together).

With that, Herbie merges with the shadows in the nearby alley, while Hellcat rushes onward toward the museum, with just seconds ticking away from the Zero Hour.

Hellcat makes it into the entrance just at 4PM, and makes her way to the Viking exhibit, where the Stone is on display. As she passes the other museum visitors, she hears the sirens of vehicles. "Decent response time for limeys..." she mumbles beneath her breath.

Taking a position out of the traffic flow, she takes out from her pouch a small runestone, and begins a chant. Slowly she feels herself fill with arcane force, and as the feeling becomes more prevalent, she can see herself fading from view as her cantrip takes effect. She stands still as the guards close the museum, locking down the doors. Finally, she is alone.

Sliding from her place of concealment, she takes another runestone, and invokes it. A blue sphere surrounds the case in which the Stone sits. Using her elbow, Hellcat breaks the glass, and removes the stone; the mystic aura has dulled the sound, kept the glass fragments from falling, and slowed the alarm signal - she has five minutes before the alarm goes off, which should be plenty of time to remove herslef and the Stone from the building.

Placing the Stone within a small velvet bag and hanging it from her belt, Hellcat makes her way to one of the back entrances. Still under her spell of concealment, she waits until the alarms are triggered before opening the door and swiftly exiting the building; the door alarm is now just one more alarm, and lost in the noise. She swiftly runs to the alleyway in which Herbie has secreted himself, and drops her Spell of Concealment.

"Time to go!" she says.

"Not so fast!" cries a voice from the alleyway entrance. "Stand where you are!" Looking down at that end, Herbie sees three costumed heroes. "Surrender, and no one need be hurt!" comes from the other side of the alleyway. Two more heroes block that end of the alley. Trapped!

Hellcat and Herbie immediately recognize the costumes of Britain's government-sponsored super-team: Union Jack!

"Oh, hell!" Patsy's mind starts racing. "We've been sold out. By whom? One of the Avengers? No, it has to be Cassandra, that bitch."

"No!" thinks Herbie, in a panic. Instinctively, he grabs Hellcat, folding her into his embrace, nearly engulfing her by his great frame. With his trenchcoat flapping behind him, Herbie leaps upward...

"Wolp! You big ape, what are ye doing? Hey, watch the hands!" cries Hellcat.

Herbie catches himself on a second-story window ledge and hurls himself upwards again, without pause (after all, he has two paws, even if one is around Hellcat). Shamrock's boot-jets roar as he leaps after them, his hands coming up in front.

"Lets see how you like my Shileighlee blasts, you big brute!" he cries, firing off twin emerald beams. The blasts narrowly miss Herbie as he grabs the roof-edge with his free hand, swinging them both to temporary safety. They land with a heavy thud as Shamrock over-flies the rooftop.

Patsy fumbles for the whistle, sticks it in her mouth and blows. At the same time, she reaches for the blinding rune (trump was a 7I) fires it at the Emerald Champion. "You witch! You've disabled my visual sensors!" he cries, streaking upwards away from harm.

Herbie and Hellcat look around themselves - they are on top of a flat-roofed building with a stairwell popping up near one side. Flying above is Shamrock, waiting for his visual sensors to clear from the Blinding Rune. You can hear the sound of Wendigo swiftly climbing up a drain-pipe, and Highlander bellowing "Coom bach and face us like warriors, yoo cowarrds!". Longbow fires a rope arrow into the roof edge, and begins to ascend. Captain Britain levitates himself to the rooftop.

"We really don't want to hurt you, Miss. Call your beast off, and surrender - or face the fate of all who would commit acts of terrorism against Her Majestty's Government" declaims the living symbol of England.

Hellcat leaps out of Herbie's arms and grabs him by the scruff, hauling him towards the stairwell.

"This way, fuzzy, we've gotta buy us some time!"

"And you thought this was going to be *easy?*" Herbie sighs as he scuttles across the roof.

She pushes Herbie through the doorway (Herbie's compliance withstanding, of course) and pulls out the rune inscribed with the Shield of Goibniu spell. Herbie scrunches his bulk through the doorway, his panic overshadowing the discomfort. Concentrating, Patsy projects a force field over the entrance of the stairwell. A rosy glow with bright white sparks fills the doorframe, just in time to block one of Shamrock's energy blasts!

"That'll only hold 'em for a bit! Let's make tracks fast as we can! An if ye got any booby traps in yer pockets, use 'em now!"

"Thank you, Ms. Cat," Herbie assents. "I have been tinkering on this electro-image producer, which would allow me to blend into the crowds easier. Maybe it would extend to both of us if we moved together."

Herbie fiddles with his gadjet, which produces a high-pitched whine for a few seconds, and drops dead. "Perhaps if I cross-circuit to B..." mumbles Herbie, quickly reconfiguring the power source to extend past the safety parameters, and the HEDA (Hologram-Emitting Diode Array) for a wider broadcast focal point.

"This ought to do it!" he proclaims hopefully, activating the device again - and all of a sudden he is staring at a dead-ringer for Dorothy Lamour in a smart dress-suit and hat.

Catching her reflection, Patsy rubs her face. "Dorothy Lamour? Shouldn't I be wearing a sarong?"

Herbie fumbles with the edges of his trenchcoat, "I, uh, er, that is..."

Patsy looks over, and sees Herbie as a dapper cross between Clark Gable and Spenser Tracy, wearing a sharp pin-stripe suit. "Yer gadget's got good taste in clothes and men, Herb. Ye look positively dashing!

Herbie puffs up his chest and gives a wink and a smirk worthy of Cas-Ook-blanca. "Shall we descend to the street, madame?" the transformed Herbie asks, extending his arm.

"Such a gentleman!" Patsy responds, taking his arm.

You find yourselves in the lobby, and a strange beggar in what looks like a tattered military uniform blocks your way. "You called for help? Wonderful disguise..." the stranger comments, "at least for those who aren't nose-dead; its hard to mask ape-musk. Follow me, quickly!" Without waiting for you to follow, he quickly opens a door and descends to the basement.

Patsy whispers to Herbie. "Eyes open and arms ready. The way we've been yanked around on this mission, I'm not trustin' anybody!"

Herbie nods solemnly, whispering back, "Of all the humans I have had the priveldge of knowing since my curse of sentience, I am proud to say that you have earned my trust, Ms. Cat."

As Herbie huddles close to the hurrying party, his mind fills with visions of molecules and synthetic long-chain polymers and the paths of the human olfactory system... wondering about the problem of this so-called "ape musk"...

Patsy follows the stranger into the basement, casting the Shield of Goibniu once again, this time around her and Herbie. Herbie reached out tentatively to brush the glimmering shield. The trust on his face faltered.

In the basement, the stranger pulls open a secret trap-door which had lain flush with the concrete, revealing a secret tunnel. Herbie can smell a thick scent of something similar to dog, and the shadows of the basement hold shadowy wolf-like figures which pace impatiently, well out of reach.

"Circuits and filiaments!" exclaims Herbie. "It's frying pans and fires, if you ask me! Are these sheeps in wolves' clothing or vice versa?"

"Down here - at the bottom, you'll find a pair of torches -- us Yanks call them flashlights --, and a rope. Grasp the rope and follow it to its end. Then climb the ladder at the end. They'll be people at the other end who can see you to safety, and out of the country if need be. Now hurry. Me and my associates will delay any pursuit."

"I don't know if I trust him, Ms. Cat." whispers the super simian. "But I trust you. If you follow, I will forthwith."

She stops the stranger with a firm arm. "Hold on, here. What's all this?"

"These are my friends, the Werewolves of London. My name is Fury. Nick Fury, the Howling Commando" explains the fellow.

"The Howling Comman-- oh, Jaysis," exclaims Patsy.

"Ah! That explains the nature of his hypersensitivity to odor!" Herbie realizes, then frowns. "More magic..." he grumbles.

"We were captured by Nazis during WWII, and experimented on by one of the SS Arcane units, led by a bastard named Felix Von Doom, " continues Fury, in a low tone. "The Nazis used us in terrible ways, until we escaped, and made our way home. Even here we're hunted, either by religious demogogues who want to burn us, or MI5, which wants to study us - by vivisection. The sewers are our home, and we hunt those who would harm the innocent."

"Interesting," Herbie remarks. "Is it a complete physiological and topological change? The possiblitiy of one DNA exhibiting properites of two completely different is quite fascinating! You can imagine the implications for medical breakthroughs, not to mention my own ... uh..."

Herbie pauses awkwardly, noticing how harsh Fury glares at him with his baleful eyes.

"You were saying..."

"And, of course, an Irish lass and a giant gorilla who just robbed the British Museum MUST be innocent; but Daffyd asked our help, and he doens't ask for much, while doing a great deal for us, so..." he finished with a shrug.

"Right. Well, good luck to ye, Nick. C'mon, Herbie, let's be off."

Patsy takes the flashlight, grabs the rope and heads off into the darkness.

Three hours later, Patsy and Herbie materialize within the lobby of Patsy's office in New York.

"I'll give Wendell a ring to let him know we're back."

Patsy catches herself in the mirror as she picks up the phone.

"Jaysis, I look like what the cat drugged in," she laments, feebly arranging her tousled hair. "Hey Herb, does yer gadget do Veronica Lake--

"Oh, well," Herbie hastily fumbles with the gadget and stares and prods at it absently. "I suppose it could, but the power source is extremely tapped even with only two or three designs..." Herbie trails off as he realizes he's really only talking to himself.

"Allo, Wendell!" Hellcat continues, "We got the bauble. No, had a bit o' trouble with the Jack. Ye'll be hearin' about it on the news sure enough. Have y'heard from any of the others?"

Herbie watches as Patsy's eyes widen in anger.

"Oh, bloody hell! That feckin' bastard! He din't... bloody gobshite, full of wind and piss an' he can't even... so what, his bollix are in a knot an' he takes off? Jaysis. What else--?"

"Oh, well that's feckin' wonderful. They picked a hell of a time to have a crisis of conscience. We haven't got time fer that... alright, we'll talk about it when I get there. We'll meet you in two hours."

Patsy hangs up the phone.

"That bollix Zemo dropped the ball. We've gotta get to Hong Kong to retrieve the third stone."

"Ball? Why would he need to use a ball, now? Oh, a colloquialism. My apologies."

Patsy glances in the mirror again. "But not before I've had a fresher. Frankly, ye can use one yerself, fuzzy. I can smell ye from here."

Hellcat leaves the room with Herbie, brow furrowed, opening and closing his mouth trying to form a responce. He makes a step in one direction, and retreats. Ultimately, he decides to make his way back to the labratory and dump off the trinkets and widgets he had collected/tinkered with over his trip, and to take bath, still going over forumulas for aromatization and sundry elements of scentology.