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I was talking to Kate and this somehow happened. Mostly because Tom and Carl are kick-ass (though Tom doesn't show up in this... probably because he's in the house, phoning Nita's dad). Takes place sometime between The Storybook Hour and The Smiths & Windsor-Jones.
Title: All In a Day's Work
"Do not, I repeat, do not panic! What you are experiencing is a brief, random, extraterrestrial encounter. You will, most probably, survive this completely intact – though you might not be able to say the same about your property, particularly if Spencer pulls out the big guns – without any lasting physical damage, and only minimal psychological scaring! Trust us, We Are Professionals," Brendon tells their little group of random bystanders. Spencer privately thinks of the bystanders as, "victims of the week," and makes a mental note to have words with Brendon about his introductory/explanitory speech. He isn't that destructive of other's property. Mostly. One of the vi– er, bystanders raises a hand. Brendon beams at him. "Yes... Carl, wasn't it? Do you have a question?" "Will this take very long? It's just, the kids promised their parents they'd be home before seven, and we'd like to know if they should call their parents and let them know they'll be late for dinner." "Long? Well... that really depends on your definition of the word 'long,' I think," Brent observes, rubbing his nose absentmindedly. "I mean, if it turns out Ryan's translation machine speaks this one's language, it could take a while. Some species take offense if you don't participate in a lengthy gossip session. Of course, this whole thing could just be resolved the fast way." "The 'fast way'?" asks the youngest of the kids. She eyes Brent skeptically, clutching a sleek-looking laptop to her chest. "What's the fast way?" "Oh, that's when they recognize us straight off and start shooting. No worries, though, it's like Brendon said. We're professionals, and hardly anyone ever ends up hurt, honest," Brent cheerfully explains. There's an angry shout, a flash of light about ten, twenty yards away, and suddenly Jon and Ryan are running towards them. Ryan's eyes are huge and his hair is smoking slightly as he clutches his translation machine to his chest. Jon reaches them first, pauses to catch his breath, then pants, "Sorry. They say they're not giving him up, no matter what. We did try." Spencer sighs and ties on a headband to keep his bangs out of his eyes. "Why is it they hardly ever want to take the peaceful way?" he grumbles as he nods to Brent, who's already gearing up as well. Off to the side, Ryan's climbing behind the wheel of Black Belinda while Jon takes a stance next to Brendon, ready to help him defend the victims if need be. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer catches sight the older of the two girls poke the boy next to her, glaring at him. He thinks he hears her say, "This is what you get, having a talking dog. Now everyone wants him," but that clearly can't be right. He's far enough away that he probably misheard her. Slipping out his phone and quickly pressing the key combination to arm it, Spencer smirks at Brent. "You ready to do this?" Brent grins back. "You know it, man," he says, his words partially drowned out while Ryan revs Belinda's engine. Zack rolls his eyes and tests the heft of the metal bat he likes to use when keeping track of his guys and making sure they don't get themselves killed. "Whatever, Smith. Get your ass in gear already – you boys have a show in the next town in two hours, and you're not showing up late to this venue like you have with every other one this week." Nodding, Spencer sets off, ready to defeat the bad guys, save the day, and hopefully even rescue the damned dog. All in a day's work for The Storybook Hour.
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