Disclaimers/Warnings:

Warning: Duncan is a short-fused jerk who has a potty mouth and likes to throw a lot of "F-bombs". So don't be surprised when you see a lot of swearing. That's just who he is. 'nuff said.

Integration & my original characters: Morgan Douglas, Vanessa Green, Aaron Mumphries, Dante and Seth Lipsky (Drakken & Shego's twins) © Me

Kim Possible Cartoon / Monty Fiske, Dr. Drakken, Shego, Global Justice © Disney

Freakazoid! Cartoon / Freakazoid, Dexter Douglas, Mr. & Mrs. Douglas, Cosgrove, Duncan Douglas, Professor Heiney © Warner Bros & Stephen Spielberg, John McCann, Paul Rugg, and all the staff of dreamworks

(musical inspiration for this chapter)

"Where" © Ultraspank

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Intregration

Chapter 13

"Where?"

In the early morning hours that followed Freakazoid's disappearance from the Hospital in La Jolla, California, the sun was nearing its zenith on the East Coast at the Douglas family household in Washington, D.C. However, the time of day hardly seemed to matter to Mr. and Mrs. Douglas because neither had slept very well as the result of an altercation between their sons two days before.

On the morning of Dexter's twenty-seventh birthday, Duncan, the eldest brother, had instigated a knock-down-drag-out fight with Dexter, who in an act of defense gave Duncan a ticket to the emergency room by breaking his nose.

In an unexpected twist, Dexter then revealed to his mother that he was the renowned superhero, Freakazoid. She stood there in stunned silence, her mind spinning as she took in the strange, blue, and crazy-haired person her son had become. Just how and when he had changed so suddenly without her notice was a little beyond her comprehension, but before she even had a chance to voice the burgeoning questions she yearned to ask, Dexter started for the front door to leave.

Oh, how Mrs. Douglas wished her son would stay and help her make sense of everything that had happened. Desperately, she said, "I wish you wouldn't go. We can fix this!"

Her eyes were drawn to the ring of purple bruising around Dexter's –er- Freakazoid's neck as he looked at her sadly, his head shaking slowly as he turned away and said, "You know it's not that easy when it concerns Duncan."

She reached a shaking hand to stop him and he pulled her into his arms, telling her he had to go, but that he'd return- for how long, she'd never know. Sadly, with blurring vision, she watched, helpless against stopping him as her little boy threw himself into the back seat of a car she recognized as belonging to Cosgrove.

She waved weakly in greeting, but neither the retired Inspector nor his passenger, who looked a lot like Dexter's old driving instructor, Roddy MacStew, seemed to notice her as the vehicle pulled away to whisk Dexter from her life for a second time too soon. The first time he'd left was to go off to college and it had nearly taken a decade from then before he acquiesced to return home, making her wonder.

'Will this time be forever?'

Long after Dexter had gone, Mr. Douglas finally returned with Duncan from the emergency room and Mrs. Douglas filled them in on what had happened in their absence.

Duncan, who had had earlier suspicions of his brother's alter ego as 'the blue guy', was more upset about the fact that his brother had run away "like a coward", than he was about his mother's lack of 'freaking out' over discovering who Dexter actually was. He turned to his mother disapprovingly, accusing her of not trying hard enough to stop him and demanded to know where she thought the "stupid freak" might have gone. Considering that Duncan's recent behavior was less than exemplary, his comments were simply adding insult to injury and earned his mother's withering glare.

Tight lipped and too angry at Duncan for losing his temper and saying such hurtful things, Mrs. Douglas spun on her heel, marched to the master bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

Misunderstanding his mother's failure to respond as a lack of concern for his injury or his feelings, Duncan was understandably livid and had he not been so disoriented from the painkillers he'd taken, he would have left right then and there in much of the same manner as his brother. Fortunately, his father was able to coax him into calming down and walked him up the stairs to his old room where he was instructed to lay down and take a nap.

Despite the illusion of peace that momentarily lapsed over the Douglas family home, Mrs. Douglas's thoughts were in turmoil as she laid weeping upon her bed. She silently cursed her lack of foresight for not sensing Dexter's distress or that she had so little power to calm Duncan's rage- rage that seemed to have no end. If only she could have been a better mother earlier in their lives, her sons might not have become so troubled in their adulthood.

As teenagers, Duncan and Dexter were prone to wrestling around more often, but rather than doing anything about it, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas had unconsciously encouraged the behavior through the open expression of their amusement. Worse still, the parents chalked it up to crazy hormones, angst, small lapses in sanity, and all the other silly stereotypical things that teenagers experienced. However, as time passed, it was clear that the rivalry between Dexter and Duncan was something they'd never grow out of, at least not without some kind of intervention. They could barely tolerate one another in close proximity for more than a moment before another fight broke out, mostly beginning with Duncan throwing one of his famous arm punches, which rapidly escalated in violence.

If only Mrs. Douglas had known that the differences between her boys would become such a point of contention, she would've put her foot down and stopped the fights for good. Heck, they might've come to respect her more for it. Alas, with a bitter taste in her mouth, Mrs. Douglas realized that all the hopes and tears in the world could never mend her broken family.

When the sun finally set on a day that was supposed to have been spent celebrating Dexter's birth, Mrs. Douglas still hadn't moved from the bed. She vaguely recalled lifting her head from her pillow at the hushed sound of her husband's voice at the door, saying Duncan was ordering Chinese food and if she wanted anything. When she didn't respond, she heard the muffled sound of Duncan's protest as his father ushered him to the living room, telling him to leave his mother in peace.

At a much later point in the night, Mrs. Douglas had unlocked the door so her husband could join her in bed. However, other than entering to brush his teeth, he must have spent the night out in the living room on his favorite recliner because when she swept her arm over his side of the bed, the comforter remained undisturbed.

The following day, Mrs. Douglas still hadn't left her room. She lacked the motivation to do anything and other than a scone and cup of tea obligingly provided by her husband, she had not eaten and rose only to shower and relieve herself as needed.

When nightfall came and her husband had still not come to bed, Mrs. Douglas finally began to feel restless. So, in the wee hours of the morning of Friday, September 3rd, Mrs. Douglas emerged from her solitary confinement at last. Admittedly, she was hesitant and a little fearful of the mess she might find throughout the house after having left it unmonitored and at the mercy of men for so long, but the pang of hunger drove her inexorably toward the kitchen. Much to her shock, instead of a messy house, everything was unbelievably spic 'n span. However, the most memorable part of her morning was finding her husband standing in the dimly lit kitchen.

Mr. Douglas was bare footed in his grey-blue plaid flannel pajamas and leaning against the counter where the coffee maker had just begun percolating. Cast in the light of the lone overhead stove light, the poor soul looked tired, what and all with the bags under his eyes, his glasses sitting lopsided on his nose, gray disheveled hair, and the two days of stubble on his face. Despite his obvious exhaustion though, Mr. Douglas smiled at seeing his wife of forty plus years appear, swaddled up in her warmest robe and slippers to stave the early morning chill. He pushed away from the counter and crossed his arms, silently shaking his head and tsking as if to scold her for making him wait so long.

'It's charming,' Mrs. Douglas thought, '...how he always seems to know when I need comfort, even when I haven't said anything at all. He just- knows…'

Perhaps it was the way he tilted his head a bit to the side, brows furrowed with concern to display the open honesty in his face with the gentlest of smiles or maybe it was the depth of the emotion that lay in his eyes like open windows to the soul, reflecting her own feelings of sadness and doubt. It was hard to tell, really, even after being married for so long, there were still little nuances in her husband's behavior that often took her by surprise. In that particular moment, it was the power of his gaze and the softness of his voice when he said her name "Deborah…" that undid her.

"Oooh Doug…," she sighed before she promptly lost her composure and fell into her husband's open arms to press her face into his broad chest. She wept like she hadn't wept in years, nuzzling her body closer into his warmth as his arms closed around her and his fingers combed through the soft red curls of her hair.

The weary couple wished that heartfelt moment could have gone on forever, but time, like all things, must pass, and they struggled to ease their troubled minds by quietly resuming the routine of their day-to-day habits. However, due to the nature of how their son Dexter had departed and his ominous lack of communication, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas were decidedly apprehensive.

Then, when the Douglas' could stand it no longer, the silence was shattered that fateful Friday morning, when breaking news from La Jolla, California, reached their television to report that in a horrible accident, Apex Software Conglomerate Vice President, Dexter Douglas, was alleged to have died, to which Mr. Douglas nearly had a heart attack and his wife promptly fainted.

It had taken close to a minute for Mrs. Douglas to rouse and regain her senses and by then, Duncan had raced down the stairs to find his father failing miserably to calm his mother, who was in complete hysterics.

"HE'S DEAD!" she screamed. "HE'S DEAD! OH GOD! OH GOOOOOD! MY BABY IS DEEEEEAAAAD!"

Spurred into a wild fit of rage, Duncan startled the living daylights out of his father when he grabbed his mother up off the floor by the waist as if she weighed nothing, carried her over to the couch, and sat her unceremoniously down. "WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" He dropped to his knees to stare her levelly in the face and bellowed. "HE AIN'T DEAD, YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?"

To demonstrate his frustration, he seized his mother's shoulders and shook her, wanting nothing more than to snap her out of the crazed-panic attack she gotten herself into. "DON'T YOU DARE BELIEVE THEIR MOTHERFUCKING LIES!" He said bitterly and shook her again.

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly, too stunned and lightheaded from hyperventilating to respond to the force of her son's anger or the venom in his voice.

"YOU HEARIN' THAT FUCKING NEWS AT ALL GODDAMMIT?! THE FUCKING FREAK BASTARD IS HIM- THAT STUPID ASSHOLE DEXTER OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT HE DID TO MY FUCKIN' NOSE? THAT FREAK FUCKER BASHED MY FACE IN, BUT SO-FUCKING-WHAT, RIGHT?! YOU DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME! ALL YOU'VE EVER CARED ABOUT IS FUCKING WIMPY LITTLE DEXTER, BUT HE'S STILL ALIVE AND IF YOU THINK FOR ONE MINUTE I'M GONNA SIT HERE AND EAT UP THIS DEXTER'S DEAD BULLSHIT THEY'RE FEEDING YOU!? IT'S ALL A GAME TO HIM! THAT BLUE FREAK OF NATURE IS STILL ALIVE AND LAUGHING AT EVERYTHING, LAUGHING AT ME, LAUGHING AT YOU FOR SCREWING YOU OV-"

The resounding smack of his wife's hand striking Duncan's face made Mr. Douglas snap out of his stupor. "Land sakes alive!" he exclaimed as he reached to pull Duncan away and box his ears, but was forced to a grinding halt by his wife's angry shout.

"GET OUT!" she screeched at Duncan, her beautiful face twisted with fury and anguish.

Duncan, who was already kind of a mess due to the busted nose and all the bruising around his eyes, was now sporting the vibrant addition of his mother's left handprint across the right side of his face. Having lost his balance and slipped to his butt, he turned his head back from being whipped to the side to stare up at her. He seemed to deflate before his parents' very eyes as the proverbial winds were blown from his sails. He blinked, looking around him as if he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there or why his mother looked more furious than he had ever seen her.

"GET. OUT!" she repeated, her voice cracking as she broke down, making Duncan wince as her delicate frame was wracked with inconsolable sobs. Thoroughly chastened, he quickly got to his feet and like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs, wordlessly clamored up the stairs two steps at a time to his old room. From there he used his cell phone to hail a cab and without even acknowledging his mother's keening wails or pausing to listen to his father shushing softly into her hair as he held her, Duncan stuffed all his things into his rucksack, raced back down the stairs, and was out of the house and out of his parents' lives with a cursory slam of the door.

Mrs. Douglas froze with a jolt as the painful thoughts of her recent past were interrupted by the gravelly sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She muted the news report she had been watching on the television and bolted from the couch to the large window facing the front lawn. She peered anxiously through a crack in the blinds, desperately hoping that her son Dexter had somehow returned unscathed, only to be disappointed when she discovered a black Escalade with tinted windows parked next to her husband's white Volvo. She squinted as a tall, dark haired, impeccably dressed forty-something man with a long face, aquiline nose, simian-like ears, and a close cropped beard, emerged from the driver's seat.

Mrs. Douglas's heart began to race as she worried over the implications of why a man in a suit and sunglasses, who looked suspiciously like a character that had just stepped off the set of the Men In Black movie, was now approaching her front door. She moved away from the window, feeling sick as the heavy sense of dread settled low in her stomach. Why was that person here? It might have had something to do with the horrible accident the news anchors were rambling about, where a beach house in La Jolla, California, had been blown to kingdom come. The media was so quick to assume that her boy had perished because his 'remains' had yet to be found while Freakazoid, who had just happened to be there, was alive, but in critical condition.

Mrs. Douglas shivered and hugged herself to stave the chilling sensation of goose bumps prickling her arms. "He can't be gone," she quietly reasoned.

Considering the fact that Dexter had recently revealed his superhero identity to her on the morning of his birthday, she may not have understood how he became superhuman very well, but at least she knew the truth at last. However, due to the outrageous hullabaloo that the media was stirring up, it also made her wonder; what caused the house, which her son apparently owned, to blow up in the first place? Was Dexter or Freakazoid, possibly both, the target of a terrorist? Was Dexter responsible for it himself like a science experiment gone wrong?

There were also the questions Mrs. Douglas at least partially knew the answers to. Why did Freakazoid disappear without a trace nearly ten years ago? (The demands of college and career life were to blame). Why, did Freakazoid suddenly reappear at Dexter's California beach house of all places? (Both are the same person, so wherever one goes, the other follows). How in the world did a comatose Freakazoid manage to escape a hospital ICU crawling with vigilant medical staff and black ops, and then simply vanish into thin air alongside an odd assortment of his former foes? (Not entirely sure. Maybe it was ninjas?). Were they and Dexter somehow connected? (Yes, they had to be). Still, there remained so many more questions that were yet to be answered, leading speculative people across the nation to believe it was all a conspiracy, and that there had to be a connection!

So immersed in her thoughts, Mrs. Douglas jumped with a surprised squeak at the sound of the doorbell.

Mr. Douglas, who had dozed off in the easy chair while watching the news, awoke with a startled snort and a rattle of the newspaper that sat folded in his lap. He started to get up, but his wife had practically flown to the door and thrown it open before he'd even managed to pull himself completely to his feet.

With one hand white-knuckling the door knob and the other clenched at her side, Mrs. Douglas blurted, "HELLO, HOW MAY I HELP YOU?!"

There was a long pause as the man in the suit observed the pale-faced red headed sixty-something woman who had answered the door in a rumpled blue house dress and slippers. "Mrs. Deborah Rose Douglas, I presume?" he asked with a distinctively British accent.

Mrs. Douglas's sad green eyes glistened with unshed tears as she nodded. "Yes..."

With an incline of his head, the man in black regarded the tall spectacled gentleman fitting the description of Mrs. Douglas' spouse, who appeared behind her. "And Sir, you must be Doug MacArthur Douglas?"

Mr. Douglas nodded. "Yes, I am he…" His eyes narrowed, heavy brows furrowing as he squared his jaw and stared down his nose at the stranger. "And who might you be?"

With a proportionately large gloved hand, the Englishman reached into his overcoat and produced a photo I.D., then held it out for the couple to inspect. "Mister and Mrs. Douglas, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Monty Fiske and I am an agent of an international government law-enforcement agency known as Global Justice."

Debbie visibly stiffened. 'The government! MEN IN BLACK!' her thoughts hissed conspiratorially. 'I KNEW IT!'

Doug blinked owlishly at the ID badge and scratched his brow, "Global Justice, huh?" He stifled a yawn, "Never heard of it."

Agent Fiske returned his badge to his coat and replied, "Though that may be, Global Justice does exist, but only intervenes in such cases as the one I was sent here to speak to you both about. It's regarding an incident your son, Dexter Lloyd Douglas, was involved in." He presented the Douglases with a fairly recent photo of their son Dexter to prove the validity of his claim before pocketing it again. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Debbie tightly replied. She stepped aside to allow the agent into her home and hurriedly shut the door behind him. "Doug, go get some coffee for the nice man," she told her husband and inattentively waved him away to the kitchen.

"What? Oh, Ah- SURE! Coming right UP, dear!"

Without even hesitating to see if her spouse had gone, Debbie pointedly focused on the agent, who had just removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his chest pocket. Her hands clenched, aching to grab something and just- She wanted to shake something, ANYTHING, preferably the agent who likely knew all the answers to her questions. She restrained the manic urge to throttle her baby boy's would-be captor and fisted her dress instead. "Where is he…?" she asked in a quavering voice, face pinched and throat aching. "WHERE IS HE?!" She repeated loudly before the agent had a chance to respond.

"Mrs. Douglas," the agent began, a little too composed for the difficult news he was about to deliver. "I regret to inform you that your son Dexter was the unfortunate casualty of a situation involving a superhu-"

"BULL CRAP!" she exploded.

Stiffening, Fiske arched a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

Due to his wife's outburst, Doug returned to her side sans the coffee. "Worms and WEASELS!" he declared. "I leave your side for less than five minutes and you've gotten yourself into such a tizzy again. Mind your apples, huh Peach-face?" He forced a smile despite the emotions that betrayed his worry and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "And mind your blood pressure… I think we've had just about enough excitement for one day!"

Debbie shrugged off her husband's arm. "You HEARD me," she hissed at the agent, stabbing a finger at him and then at the television where the news was still playing on mute. "They said he was seriously hurt!" She sniffed, tears rolling down her face. "And he was rushed to a hospital and there were a bunch of weird people with him, people who were supposedly villains, and then YOU guys in the suits were EVERYWHERE, WHICH IS KIND OF INSANE- REALLY SUSPICIOUS, YA KNOW, SOMETHING ABOUT IT BEING A SECURITY ISSUE LIKE I HAVEN'T HEARD THE WIND BLOW BEFORE!"

Agent Fiske calmly regarded the distraught woman and waved his hands in a placating manner. "Mrs. Douglas, I understand that you've had a trying day, but I need you to please remain calm."

"NO!" She snapped with a stamp of her foot. "I. WILL NOT. REMAIN. CALM! I'M HIS FRIGGIN' MOTHER FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! All I'VE DONE FOR DAYS IS SIT AROUND, WAITING AND HOPING FOR A PHONE CALL OR- OR SOMETHING! I SHOULD'VE HELD ONTO HIM AND NEVER LET 'IM GO, BUT I DIDN'T AND NOW I'M HEARING STORIES ABOUT SOME HORRIBLE ACCIDENT THAT HAPPENED ALL THE WAY OVER ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY IN STINKIN' CALIFORNIA WHERE HE'S BEEN BADLY HURT AND NOW HE'S MISSING!"

"He?" Fiske asked cautiously. "Please be specific, Mrs. Douglas; to whom are you referring? There were several people involved that have been recently reported as 'missing'."

Doug's hands rested heavily upon his wife's shoulders. "That's enough shouting, Debbie-love," he said lowly in a tone that brooked no argument. He huffed as his eyes hardened on the agent and said firmly, "He, as in our son, Dexter Lloyd Douglas, who also goes by the name of Freakazoid."

There was a pregnant pause as Agent Fiske regarded the beleaguered parents, and then he sighed, producing a handkerchief and held it out to Mrs. Douglas. "My sincerest apologies, Sir and Madam…" He said softly. "It seems we've got off on the wrong foot. I was not aware that either of you knew."

Debbie released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and gratefully took the kerchief to dab her eyes.

"I understand that you both have been under considerable duress," said Fiske. "May we begin again so that I may share what I know of your son's situation?"

"Please?" the Douglases asked in unison.

"Very well," Said Fiske. "As an answer to your first question, Mrs. Douglas, my superiors and I do not know how your son escaped the hospital, but given his condition, his disappearance is likely the work of another source. As for his whereabouts, we're conducting an investigation based on a few leads, which is what brought me here to you today."

Debbie frowned. "Then why were you going to tell me that my son is dead?"

"To protect his secret identity, of course," said Fiske.

"It's not such a secret if I know it," she accused.

"That may be true," said Fiske. "However, outside of a select handful of people, to which the both of you are now included, the rest of the world has yet to make that association. The Global Justice organization respects the privacy of the superhuman populace it supervises and as such, does what it must to protect them and their families."

Doug sighed, squeezing his wife's shoulders reassuringly. "So..., does that mean if my wife and I hadn't known, you would have had us believe our son to be dead?"

"Temporarily," Fiske quickly replied. "Until the situation was under control, but your knowledge does change a few things."

Doug arched a brow, "And that would be…?"

"Crowd control," said Fiske.

Mr. and Mrs. Douglas exchanged glances.

What would you have us do to protect our boy?" asked Doug.

"The media attention is a nuisance and in order to prevent an information leak, we have to be sure to inform all relations and prepare them for what they're up against. With Freakazoid injured and missing in action that would also mean that Dexter is no longer present as well. Until he can be located, Global Justice has to act on his behalf since we're unable determine how long he will remain missing. If anyone were to come to your door seeking information about Dexter, it would be your responsibility to behave as though you'd lost your son."

Debbie began to cry again. "I don't want to!"

"Maybe we should sit down," said Doug. "We've had a rough couple a'days…" He moved his hand to rest gently at the small of his wife's back and started to guide her to the kitchen. "How 'bout some coffee, huh, Mr. Fiske? We can sit in the dining room and talk for a spell... That is, if you have the time?"

Fiske nodded his ascent. "I understand your predicament and yes, I do have a moment to spare and would fancy a cuppa."

Doug lead his wife and agent Fiske to the dining table, then went to the kitchen, returning moments later with a tray laden with three full mugs of coffee along with spoons and the usual assortments of sugar (artificial sweetener for himself) and cream. He sat next to his wife with the agent sitting across from them with his back to the living room and sighed into his coffee mug.

"Thank you," said Fiske as he stirred cream and sugar into his mug. "Pardon my intrusion, but I can't help but notice that you said your son was here for a time. May I ask why?"

"His birthday," said Debbie. "I'd asked Dexter to come home since he hasn't been by in such a long time, what and all with college first and then a full-time career. He'd gotten so wrapped up in his work that the years just seemed to fly by… I missed him so much…" She paused to sip her coffee, staring dolefully into her mug. "I'd also invited Duncan, our eldest, to join us to celebrate the occasion together as a family, but that turned out to be a bad idea."

Noticing Agent Fiske's confusion, Doug interjected, "Our boys haven't always gotten along. They're like night and day. They've struggled to let sleeping dogs lie and got into a nasty brawl, which ended up with Duncan getting his nose busted up real good. Dexter left immediately after that happened, then Duncan, he…" Doug paused to look uneasily at his wife before continuing. "Duncan has always been pretty short-tempered, but it seems to have gotten worse in recent years. He blew up and said some things he shouldn't have and was asked to leave earlier this morning…"

With a heavy heart, Debbie lowered her eyes to stare forlornly at her lap. "Duncan couldn't accept his brother..." she said quietly, voice heavy with emotion as the painful memory of her eldest son screaming in her face was still fresh in her mind. She had never seen such hatred in his eyes; he was like a man possessed. "He has had past encounters with 'the blue guy' as he liked to call him- Freakazoid that is… Doug and I never understood what he was talking about then. We just assumed he had an overactive imagination… Given his reaction to Dexter's blue appearance, it became apparent to him that his brother and Freakazoid are one in the same and he just lost it- he was so furious…"

"Ah, I see…," said Fiske. "Do you believe that in his anger, Duncan might try to do something ill-advised toward his brother or say something to someone about his alter ego?"

"Yes," said Debbie, her right hand slipping into her husband's larger left hand, fingers intertwining.

"That could present a problem," Fiske said matter-of-factly. "Do you perchance know where Duncan might have gone?"

"We don't know," said Doug. "We didn't ask, though he might've gone to the airport- to where, though, we really don't know. He travels a lot and is rarely ever at his apartment downtown, so it's always been easier to call, text, or e-mail his smart phone since he's always got it with him."

"Hnn…" Fiske hummed as he took a draught of coffee, making a mental note to look further into the background of the man known as Duncan Douglas. "So, just to reconfirm what you've said, Dexter was in the form of Freakazoid at the time of his departure?"

"Yes," said Debbie. "He was blue with the lightening on his head and such…"

Fiske nodded. "Another question, if I may… Do either of you recall Dexter ever mentioning going to La Jolla, California or if he said anything about going anywhere else with anyone he might be close to?"

Doug shrugged and shook his head, "Well, no, I don't, but I was away at the emergency room with Duncan at the time Dexter left. As far as I know, he never mentioned where he was going or with whom…" He looked to his wife. "Honey, what exactly did Dexter say to you again?"

"Oh…He didn't say where, exactly," Debbie replied. "Only that he had to go away for a while, but he'd be back… I just don't know when or for how long…" She trailed off for a moment before continuing. "He was picked up by his good friends Cosgrove and Roddy, who looked like he'd gone blue like Freakazoid too. I just don't know where they could have taken him. Dexter was in such a hurry to go."

"I see," said Fiske. "I'm aware of the identity of Cosgrove, but he wasn't with your son at the hospital. However, I recall Roddy..." He was silent for a moment, briefly lost in thought before blinking back into awareness. "Ah yes, Roddy MacStew. He was at your son's side the entire time, before, during, and after his disappearance from the hospital."

Debbie's face visibly brightened. "O-Oh REALLY?!" She looked up to the ceiling with a hand over her heart then back down to the agent seated across from her. "Well, bless his heart! I'm so glad to hear that! Roddy is such a nice man and is so very fond of our Dexter- has been since becoming his driving instructor back in his days at Harry Connick High!"

"In regards to Cosgrove, would that be the very same Inspector Cosgrove of the City of Washington, D.C. Police?"

"Ah, Yes!" Debbie said. "Although, he's retired now, of course, but has always been Dexter's good friend since-" She shrugged. "I dunno, probably for about as long as Dexter's known Roddy. If you'd like to talk to Cosgrove, he lives on the other side of town, don'tcha you know…"

"I am aware," said Fiske. "Cosgrove has been a constant companion to Freakazoid since his early days as a superhero… I will make a point of contacting him."

Doug ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, "I'll have to admit that my wife and I are a little concerned about those visitors Freakazoid received while in the hospital… The news said-" He turned to regard his wife, brows furrowed in consternation. "What were their names again, Peach-face?"

Debbie's brows shot up as her short lived joy returned to worry. "Oh, dear… Oh… That's right, those fellows, some dreadful blue caveman, a cobra lady, and a mad doctor…" She gasped, "OH GOODNESS! They used to be on America's Most Wanted!" She turned desperately to Agent Fisk, tears springing anew in her eyes. "You don't think they had something bad in mind when they took Dexter, do you?"

Agent Fiske shook his head. "No. They were not there to endanger your son. However, I do believe they had a hand in his disappearance, but whose help they had or how they managed to escape undetected is still unknown. As for the individuals you mentioned, they're more commonly known as Cave Guy and Cobra Queen, criminals that have long since reformed, married, had a son, and go by their given names, Royce and Audrey. In regards to their intentions, numerous witnesses have described that the couple's actions at the hospital were of genuine concern. As for the "mad doctor" you mentioned, he goes by the name of Doctor Drakken and while his reputation as a criminal precedes him, he received a full pardon from the United Nations and a medal honoring his participation in bringing an end to the Lorwardian Invasion many years ago. Suffice to say, the Doctor may be many things, but he's hardly mad."

"Oh," said Debbie, covering her mouth in surprise. "My goodness, I had no idea!"

Doug struck his own forehead with the butt of his hand. "Well, slap my head and call me silly!" He exclaimed. "I can't believe I nearly forgot about that whole alien invasion thing… It was so surreal, like something out of an old horror B movie from the fifties…"

Fiske's lips quirked, "Quite."

Debbie shuddered, "I think we all wanted to put that out of our memories. Such dreadful creatures..."

Fiske smothered his chuckle with the edge of his coffee mug before taking a slow sip. "I speak from personal experience when I say that while Dr. Drakken can be a bit of a buffoon, he is, nevertheless, a well-intentioned buffoon with his heart in the right place, particularly now that he has the well-being of his family to consider."

"You knew the Doctor?" Debbie asked her eyes wide with wonder.

Fiske nodded. "We've crossed paths a time or two…" 'More times than I care mention,' he finished in thought.

"My word..., such a small world we live in..."

Fiske bit back the urge to snicker and thought, 'Woman, you have NO idea how right you are…'

"You could say that again, hon!" Doug chuckled, and then paused as he remembered something. "Say… In some of the footage on the news, there was another elderly guy there, bald on top with flippy hair, big nose and glasses…"

"The old man?" asked Fiske.

Doug and Debbie both nodded.

"Ah, yes, Professor Roland Heiney," said Fiske. "He is a close friend and a sort of unofficial fatherly figure of Doctor Drakken. Not surprisingly, the Professor also claims to know Freakazoid and considers him a family member." He tipped back his head to drain the remains of his coffee and sat the mug down upon the tray it had arrived on. "With that said, you both can rest assured that Global Justice will do everything in its power to locate Dexter, but in knowing who he's with, I 'm confident that wherever he is, he's safe and in capable hands."

To Be Continued…

– 0 – 0 Author's Notes 0 – 0 –

Ultraspank's song "Where" is what inspired me for this chapter so check it out and have a listen!

I'm sure that after finishing this chapter, Duncan will officially be on everybody's shit list. As a shout out to all my long-time followers who have been watching my DeviantArt gallery, you know he'll eventually redeem himself, but for the time being, if you feel like dragon kicking him square in the junk for blowing up and makin' his mama cry, be my guest. He probably deserves it because he's a douche-canoe that gets taken advantage of by an even bigger, er shorter, but ridiculously rich douche-canoe with gray skin, an anubis scepter, and a creepy watch that can turn pigeons to stone- because seriously, fuck that guy. What'd the pigeons ever do to him? :pigeonwag: But yeah, Duncan is going to get a whoooole lot worse before he gets better. So, thank yer holy flaming rollerblading Jibbers Crabst that Freakazoid and his crazy bunch of friends help Duncan see the light and join the jedi force of good.

Thank you everyone for your patience! I know it's taken forever to post a new chapter! This is the last filler chapter to bring depth to the story before I return to Freakazoid and co. If you're wondering, Chapter 14 is when Freakazoid finally makes the first steps to recovery after receiving a little intervention from the resident boogey-man (if you catch my drift). ^_^ Check out my gallery on DeviantArt if you want to see some nifty art-related stuff for this story! There's tons of it and I've made absolutely no attempt to hide what I intend to write for the future of this epic tale!

In the Freakazoid cartoon I psychoanalyzed all the characters to pick up any little behavorial quirks, their activities, all the little subtle nuances, etc, shared between parents and their children.

Mr. Douglas, for the most part, is more meek and introspective, but prone to paranoia and panic/emotionally driven outbursts like shouting at the kids that he'll "harpoon em" or "butter their heads" when they're being roudy or when he's holding a camera after taking a family photo at the museum "Did it flash? DID IT FLASH?!" and his wife calmly and matter-of-factly replies, "No."

For the most part, Mrs. Douglas is 'relatively' calm and placating to her husband, particularly during his outbursts. Despite how kind of addled, crazy (not in a senile kind of way), just slightly off kilter and a little delusional. When she's not lost in the fog of her own delusions, she's surprisingly sharp as a tack (for the most part) and suffers from verbal diarrhea by speaking what she thinks without the filter (which is incredibly obvious in the show).

I have a lot of fun reflecting the influence of their personalities through Dexter and Duncan, particularly in how they share their parents' looks. Dexter has his father's coloring, but is smaller than his brother and father, and leaner/scrawny like his mother. Duncan has the coloring of his mother's Irish heritage, what and all with the pale skin and carrot top and her green eyes. In this chapter, it appears the roles have reversed a little since Mama Douglas is distraught and emotional and dammit she's MAMA and everyone must hear her ROAR about her BABY! :) So, Mr. Douglas has to be the calm one this time around because he worries about her anxiety because she's a worry-wart, suffers from anxiety, and she's a tad bit too hyperactive. :P Papa has to put his foot down and make everybody settle.

In terms of family traits, I'm just going to assume Mrs. Douglas is Irish, but I haven't thought up a maiden name for her yet, but I'm working on that in case it should be relevant to the story in any way. I also figured that with a name like 'Douglas', which is surname that is distinctively Scottish in origin, means that Mr. Douglas' heritage stems from Scotland, so all that mixed up spells for a lot of silly, crazy, personality antics among family members. (I happen to be half Scott-Irish from both sides of my family (both grandmothers are Irish), so I can relate. The rest of my heritage from my grandfathers' is a soup of French, British, and German stemming from the Pennsylvania Dutch. I may use some of my own family tree genealogy study as an influence on how I want to manage Duncan and Dexter's heritage because it works out pretty well.

I had a funny thought that Freakazoid with his blue skin and dark crazy lightening hair and would say, "I'm both Scottish and Irish!" and people would look at him like ಠ_ಠ "Wut?" ...and then he'd be like, "Well, I don't really LOOK the part anymore, but HEY, this is my brother DUNCAN!" and he'd pull his brother in and be like "Hey, here's proof!" People would see Duncan's red hair, pale, skin, light freckles on his arms and shoulders and such and be like, "Ooooh, Okay." Definitely worth it to Freak just to see people react to his statement with a WTF moment, especially during such times St. Paddy's Day because, hey, why not, because it's hilarious!