To say that it hadn't been Viceroy's night would have been the biggest of understatements. It was around six in the morning when the scientist trudged into his apartment- his body ready to collapse at any moment as he just let his keys fall to the ground. He made it as far as the couch before he flopped down, face first, not even caring if the cushions were suffocating him. Viceroy screamed into the padding, letting his full frustrations out on the innocent cushion.

It had been one of the worst nights the lanky man had experienced in a long time. After passing out on stage, Willem had woken to a crowd of people hovering over him. It was an onslaught of questions, one after the over that he didn't even have time to answer before more were thrown at him. He had felt dizzy and claustrophobic, and he kept reassuring them he would be fine- just in need of some fresh air. Unfortunately for him, neither his boss- who of course had still been there, though slightly more agitated than concerned, he noted- or the rest of the crowd would let him be. And the next thing he knew, he found himself dragged off to the emergency room to waste nine hours of constantly telling the doctors 'I'm fine.' It had only made him all the more frustrated when that was exactly what they ended up telling him in the end.

A familiar and welcome series of beeps convinced him to unbury his face and turn over, drawing his knees to his chest, and reaching out to gently grab the floating ball of lovable metal.

"Oh Otto," Viceroy sniffed, hugging his beloved robo buddy to his chest. "I had the WORST night. McFist dragged me to a strip club... A STRIP CLUB! I don't really remember the details. I think I ended up on stage somehow, and passed out..."

Viceroy trailed off there, allowing the room's silence fill in the blanks. After a short pause, Otto beeped again. The scientist held the bot out at arms length, and gave him a look.

"I can't just tell 'im! ... Can I?"

Otto responded with a whistling noise.

The scientist momentarily thought it over. Would it have just been easier by that point to just go out and say it? The week alone certainly had been beyond frustrating, not to mention the night's fiasco being the most embarrassing situation he had been in to date. But then Viceroy's pride began to kick in as he thought of the fact that just telling McFist he was the gayest gay to ever gay would be the equivalent of giving up. It was like saying "Willem, you are not smart enough to figure out the problem". And he just couldn't allow himself to do that.

"No," Viceroy said, a steely look of determination in his eyes, "thanks for the advice, Otto, but that's a no go. I am NOT going to let McFist get the best of me. I'd rather die first!"

The bot chattered again, indicating that there was a great percentage of that being an actual possibility. The scientist grumbled.

"Thanks for the load of confidence."

He had been staring at the same schematic for an hour now. He might as well have been staring at a page written in a foreign language, rather than his own plans he'd done up merely a week before. A note on the side he'd scribbled to himself read: "Galvanized steel plating = sword proof?" Had he tried that already? It seemed too obvious to be a new idea...

Viceroy had never had this much trouble focusing on his work before, but then again, he'd never felt so defeated by such a simple concept, either. He glared at the unassuming paper on the desk in front of him.

"I NEED to stop thinking about this." he told it. "Why does it matter so much? So what if my own boss doesn't know a single important thing about me? It's none of his business, anyway!"

Except it did matter. It mattered to him that he had dedicated so many years of his life to McFist, in both a work and personal sense, and made it a habit to learn and memorize everything he could about the man… And yet there he was, with hardly even a fraction of the effort in return. Viceroy knew the idiot was his boss, knew he was just one worker in a whole body of a corporate empire; but, darn it, he THOUGHT they were friends on some level!

Willem found himself growling as he swiped his hand across his workspace, sending papers and utensils flying.

"That's it," the scientist cried, as he thrust himself out of his chair and stormed his way towards the door, "this apartment is becoming suffocating- I need some fresh air, and stat!"

Howard really wished Cunningham would hurry up.

They had planned to meet at the Game Hole... right after Randy took care of "some ninja business". Whatever that meant. There were no monster to watch him clobber that time, so Howard had decided to go on ahead and wait- and was now mildly regretting said decision.

Normally Howard wouldn't bat an eye at seeing McFists' hired hand there, but he just so happened to remember the last time the scientist was in here looking so distraught...

Everyone knew that the Game Hole had the best slushies in town, so it was no surprise that Viceroy found himself there, fuming in the corner, sipping an ice cold cherry beverage. No surprise to him, anyway; he earned a few sideways glances for being the only present adult without a child accompanying them. Not that he paid them any mind.

Not until one of them plopped themselves down in the chair across from him, anyway. Viceroy glanced up to fix the kid with a steely glare, and said nothing.

"Alright, what's up?" the kid questioned. He made it clear with his tone that he was asking purely out of some sense of obligation. "Your little robo guy didn't go missing again, did he?"

It was then that recognition dawned on the mopey scientist.

"Oh, you're the kid from last time." Viceroy waved the redhead off as he turned to his side, bringing his slurpee close to his mouth to prepare for another sip. "No, Otto's fine. Probably at home watching his soaps again."

"Then what the juice is your problem? You're sitting over here acting like No-Friendo just announced they won't be making anymore 'Grave Puncher' games." There was pause as the chubby kid shivered, before he continued once more. "Woah, just imagining it freaked myself out!"

Willem scoffed before smiling smugly.

"Please, ain't no way they're cancelling their highest grossing franchise, baby. Especially not after just payin' the beta testers to work on GP 12."

"No honkin' way!" Howard was now leaning over the table, eyes sparkling.

"But you didn't hear that from me."

"Wait, wait, wait." Howard sat back down, shields already up. "How would you even know something like that?" He challenged, and crossed his arms over his chest.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell agape when Viceroy flashed his Official Beta Tester card. It was quickly yanked away when Howard reached a hand out to touch the Godlike artifact. Howard shook his head violently to bring himself around. He took a deep breath.

"How do I get that job and when can I start?" he said in one exhale.

"Being eighteen plus for one, not to mention even a basic background in programing and/or the right connections." The scientist took a smug sip of his slurpee. "Sorry kid, looks like you're out of luck for a while."

"Only for four more years! That's practically an adult already!"

"Riiiight."

Howard Weinerman sat back down in his seat, grumpily crossing his arms against his girth. That was the way with grown ups, always looking down on teenagers because they had 'experience' and junk. Well guess what, buddy, this 'kid' has seen some things as well and was just as good as any like the scientist had. Speaking of the scientist, Howard raised a brow as he noticed the guy growing silent again- a far away look on his face. If Viceroy had been drooling, the teen would almost compare it to all the times Randy had shooped on him in the middle of a conversation. As if he wasn't there at all.

Yeah, something was seriously bothering him. He wondered what, though. What in the world could a guy like him have to be bothered with, when he worked for like the brucest company ever?! Viceroy gets to be the first to touch and use all the McFist products before anybody else could… though notably because he was the guy making half of the products, huh? Maybe it sort of loses its appeal when you're the one building all the stuff. Not to mention probably getting yelled at by his boss if something doesn't work right away, and then the whole deal with him helping to destroy the ninja…

"Oooh," Howard finally uttered, as he put the pieces together, "it has something to do with McFist, doesn't it?"

"Doesn't it always?"

The slushie was slammed down with such force, some of it sloshed out onto the table. Howard stared at it, wide eyed and silent. His eyes darted back up to Viceroy.

"Yeeeaaah... working for that guy must be the worst, am I right?"

He was getting bored, but what else was he supposed to do while he waited for Randy?

"Oh, you don't know the half of it!" Viceroy was yelling too loudly now, and he didn't care. "That big meathead never listens to a word I say! And after knowin' the guy for fifteen years, you think he'd remember a few things about me, right? Nuh-uh. Jerk doesn't even know when my birthday is."

When the scientist paused in his rant and glanced at the kid, he was just finishing up a hotdog, and had started on a second one.

"Where did you get that?" Viceroy asked, pointing, his rage momentarily glossed over by confusion.

"Umph? Oh! Sorry. I grabbed a snack while you were rambling. Did you want one?" he asked through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and laughed. "Haha, just kidding! I only had enough for me."

Viceroy stared at the kid, blankly, for a few moments. Finally, he got up, and shrugged. "I ain't even mad." And made his way to leave.

Howard merely shrugged as he took another noisy bite of his dog. He watched the scientist head towards the door, where he perked up as his best bro entered as the nerd was leaving. Randy side-eyed the lanky man as he walked down the block, before entering the Game Hole himself. It wasn't hard to spot Howard nomming away at the booth where Viceroy had abandoned.

"Dude, was that Viceroy?" Randy slid into the booth, still perturbed by what he saw.

Howard shrugged.

"A lot of weird stuff goes down when you're late, Cunnigham. A lot. Of weird stuff."

Monday rolled around a lot faster than usual for Willem Viceroy the Third. While trying to work and scheme had been its own little torture, the fact the start of the week had been looming over his head made it speed by before he could even settle on anything. And there was no way he had slept that Sunday night- how could he when his nerves and frustrations kept at him like an itch that needed to be scratched. When his mind had went and calmed itself, he found himself picking at the same topics all over again- setting him back to square one.

It was around noon that Viceroy felt himself writing the same three numbers over and over again all over his schematics- before his brain even picked up something wasn't right. He didn't bother turning around when he heard the door open and close. Maybe if Viceroy ignored him, he'd go away.

McFist stood behind his scientist for a few moments, and when he realized he wasn't going to greet him, he cleared his throat. Viceroy only "hmph"ed in reply, but he was undeterred.

"Hey there, Viceroy, buddy 'ol pal! Workin' hard I see! I like that."

Willem mumbled something in reply; but nothing that could be picked up as words. The blond man continued.

"Yeah... so! You busy this weekend?"

Viceroy spun around so quickly, that McFist actually took a step back. The look in the scientist's eyes spoke volumes of fear.

"NO!" Viceroy yelled. "I mean, yes! I'm busy. NO, I do NOT wanna be dragged off to some strip club again!"

The stout man glared, placing his hands on his hips.

"Geeze, Viceroy, I wasn't even going to suggest that. Not after that big scene you caused LAST time." His grumpy frown deepened. "Seriously, nobody likes spending NINE HOURS at the hospital- there were SICK PEOPLE there!"

"Uh, I was there for nine hours; you were there for two."

McFist waved the scientist off.

"Eh, details details. We're both in agreement on the 'no strip joints', anyhow. No, that's not why I'm asking. I just wanted to see if you're free for dinner on Saturday. Free food- what'dya say, hmm?"

Viceroy crossed his legs in his seat, chair creaking as he leaned back and raised a suspicious brow.

"I say: 'what's the catch?'"

"What, catch- there's no catch!" When Viceroy just continued to stare at him, it became evident that the fib had not been bought. McFist sighed.

"Ehhhh alright, fine. We kinda had this big double date all planned out; Marci and me, of course, and one of Marci's friends and some guy. But then Mister Some Guy dropped out and now Marci's friend- what was it, Veronica, Betty, something- needs a date. And I kiiiinda told Marci I'd bring someone, and, uh, well: are you seeing my predicament here?"

McFist took another step back when the taller man stood up out of his chair and glared icicles into his soul. Viceroy was scary when he was angry.

"Oh no you did not!" Viceroy snapped. Although it was anger that made its presence known in his voice, anger was far from all he was feeling at that moment. Panic, hurt, and frustration rounded off the tornado of mental torment the man was trapped inside. "I can't believe you would go behind my back and try settin' me up on another date! Oh wait, yes I can."

It was McFist's turn to be angry as he gotten over his initial startlement.

"Wow, way to be grateful. I thought I was doing ya a favor. Thought maybe you were lonely or whatever, and might like a nice gal to keep you company!"

"No wonder you're so wrong, " Viceroy snapped, " thinkin' was never your strong suit. Maybe you'd know what i'd want if you paid more attention to me-"

"Oh, there we go again! Back to that same dumb argument! What does that have to do with anything? I pay attention t'ya plenty, and you know it!"

What did that have to do with anything? It had everything to do with everything! Willem loomed over his boss, his resentment for the man overpowering the fact that McFist could easily hurt him if he pleased. The scientist sneered, looking down on McFist both figuratively and literally.

"Oh really, when's my birthday?"

McFist stiffened.

"It's… um, well, you see-"

Viceroy interrupted, not letting the man go on.

"Uh huh, and what's my favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"What type of weird question-"

"How do I drink my coffee? Sugar? Cream? Who's my favorite mascot? What's my favorite color?"

"Woah, woah, WOAH," McFist cried out, putting his hands up in defense. "Slow down there, you're asking too many questions!"

Viceroy's glare hardened.

"How long," he began slowly as the ticked off scientist enunciated each word, before starting again. "How long. Have I. Been working for you?"

Hannibal McFist was silent as the darker man stared him down. The man blinked a few times and Viceroy had nearly given up on him entirely, before a look of concentration crossed McFist's face. He looked at his digits, first fat fleshy ones and then mechanical, as he counted.

"Eh… Fifteen years?" He looked uncertain. "It is fifteen years, right? You were fresh out of college, or something, sporting a REALLY bad haircut."

Viceroy sighed, relief momentarily washing over him. Even if he DID strongly disagree about the hairdo comment.

"You'd be right, baby, it has been fifteen years. Do you see why it's so frustrating? In all that time, you ain't bothered t'learn a single thing 'bout me. You CALL me your friend, had me as your best man at you n' Marci's wedding… And you don't even know I don't like women."

There. It was out. It was over. Except was it really? The look of bafflement on McFists' face made him wonder.

"Eh, Viceroy... that's a little, rude, doncha think? I mean, there's a big difference between not liking someone, and being too shy to talk to them, for crying out loud! Besides, you and Marci get along fine!"

Okay, so it wasn't over. But it was close enough to over for the scientist to feel tired, drained, and relieved. Viceroy heaved a heavy sigh, and shook his head.

"I was talkin' about romantically! Hannibal..." he placed his hands on his boss' shoulders. "I. Am. Gay."

Silence fell between them. Viceroy kept his hands on Hannibal's shoulders for far too long, and they stared at each other for the same amount of too much time.

"Oh." McFist said at last. Viceroy was thankful for the silence breaker. "Well this got awkward fast."

"Yes it did."

The scientist removed his hands and stepped back, returning to his chair and slumping down into it. Every emotion had been drained out of him during that confrontation, and it had left him exhausted.

"Look, Viceroy…" The stout man started, "I'm not, great, at the whole, emotions thing. But I'm... I'm sorry, alright? I mean I, it's just... oh boy."

McFist took a deep breath and tried again.

"You should've just told me! How was I supposed to know that, huh?"

"Because it was so obvious?" the scientist replied, his tone as calm and sassy as ever. "Hannibal, I ain't ashamed to admit I'm the very definition of the stereotypical gay man."

"Well," McFist paused, fiddling with his hands, "maybe I'm just not that good with picking up on things, okay?! Nothing personal, just ask the wife. I forget birthdays, anniversaries, noticing when she gets new haircuts, yadda yadda yadda- all that stuff and all the time! Doesn't mean Marci isn't still my sugar pumpkin. Heck, if it weren't for you remembering all that stuff, my marriage would probably be just a series of disappoints for her."

Hannibal sighed slowly, eyes closed in frustration as the man hated that it was so hard to just say things. He massaged his temples with his robotic fingers before trying again.

"Look, what I'm trying to say here… is don't be offended. I do it to everybody, not just you. It's hard to notice every little thing!"

And that was the closest to a genuine apology as the scientist was ever going to get. Viceroy scoffed, cracking a bit of a grin.

"I shoulda known. Can't expect you t'pick up on sarcasm, let alone anything else."

"Yeah, speaking of which, we need to have a discussion about your attitude- your sass levels are way too high!" Hannibal's usual glare slipped, showing that he too was joking. He then cleared his throat, still looking a bit disturbed. "Sooo… are we good here? Is this… whatever between us settled?"

"Depends… you done settin' me up on dates?"

Hannibal threw an arm- thankfully his left- around Viceroy's shoulders.

"Yup! No more dates. With women." Viceroy practically growled at him. "Alright, alright! No more dates, period. Now about that latest plan to capture the ninja. I was thinking something with lasers. Oh! Maybe a giant mountain lion- have we done that?"

Viceroy smiled and let Hannibal go on, as they walked together, McFists' arm still wrapped around his shoulders. If McFist could accept Viceroy for who he was, Viceroy supposed he just might be able to accept his boss for the lovable, bumbling moron he was.

However, there was still one last matter to settle...

"Yeah, so… whatcha gonna do 'bout Marci's friend then? Won't she and your wife be disappointed when I don't show?"

It was McFist's turn to look smug, as he used his free hand to adjust his tie.

"Heh, about that. Lucky for me I never even asked Marci if any of her friends were single. In hindsight, she probably would have laughed, huh?"

"Wait, you LIED?"

"For the good of the cause! I really WAS just trying to help you out!"

And Viceroy couldn't even stay mad at that.

Later that night, as the scientist and his faithful companion Otto were in bed getting ready to make up for all the sleep that hadn't been had the night before, Viceroy grumbled as the apartment's house phone went off. Peeling away his eye mask in just the slightest, the tired scientist sat up from his poofy pillow as he pressed a button on the robot hovering next to him.

"Willem speaking, n' this better be good."

"Oh, Viceroy," came a familiar tone, "glad I caught you still up."

Viceroy groaned; he should have known it would be his boss on the line- his mother was sensible to call at reasonable hours.

"I'd hardly call myself awake. I was halfway between here and a meadow counting sheep- was there something I could DO for you?"

"Eh, more like do for YOU. See, I was talkin' to the wife- and whaddya know, she knew you were fruitier than a fruitbasket all along! So it really was just me; talk about being the last to know, huh?"

Hannibal McFist chuckled deeply, before carrying on where he left off.

"WELL, calling because she brought up that there are loads of you gay folk around town- and it made me realize there's a whole market that McFist Industries hasn't even tapped into yet! Think about it! We can do gay books, gay shoes, GAY SNACKS! Whatever they're into, I dunno. That's what you're here for; I need you-"

Viceroy didn't even let the man finish as he hung up the phone- rolling back to his side and plopping his head on his pillow. He smiled as Otto snuggled next to him, before wrapping an arm around the mechanical sphere of personality and giving him a quick kiss goodnight.

Tomorrow was always another day to deal with stupidity.

THE END