by Chewy Walrus
Chicago, 1996:
The city was bustling, as it normally was. But Chewy Walrus didn't care. He seldom cared about politics or about the lives of the people of the city around him. He looked out for number one...
"Hey, you! Hey, buddy!"
...and sometimes that was hard enough.
Chewy turned to face the man who had been so bold as to yell at him.
"What?" came the blunt, monotonous voice of the Walrus.
"You jest nicked my car, man! Dat's not cool! I hope you got a lawyer, pal, cuz yore..."
"I'm what?" Chewy said, staring down at the man.
"Well... uh... yore gonna need it. I... uh... I got the best friggin' lawyer in da state, man... yore gonna pay fer dat!"
"And how, exactly, did I ding this car of yours?" Chewy asked, his face now inches from his accuser's.
"Wit yore car, of course!" said the man, beginning to get bolder.
"That's amazing, you know..." Chewy said, smiling. "That's amazing," he began to chuckle. "You know why?"
The man stared, as though Chewy had turned into an alien. "Uh... no..."
Chewy's attitude changed suddenly. "Because I don't own a car." The accuser's eyes grew wide as Chewy's fist collided with his nose. The man hit the ground, his nose broken in at least four places. "Think about that next time you try to run another scam on someone..." Chewy threw a small business card at the man. He picked up the card, and saw nothing but a walrus' face... wearing a derby hat.
Chewy, dressed in a trench coat and fedora, walked down a hidden alley. He pulled his collar up, leaning against the alley's brick wall.
Unseen by anyone, an elongated arm reached along the side of the wall, pushed a brick and moved a wall aside. The Chewy Walrus, arm stretched out, walked into the opening... and into the secret headquarters of the Elitum Protection Squad.
Scientists adorned the sides of the large room. Beakers and test tubes filled with chemicals cluttered shelves. Plans and blueprints hung from the walls and sat rolled up and cluttered in corners.
Chewy's elongated arm reached out, snagging a stray scientist and bringing him to his face. "Where's the Shark?" Chewy snarled.
"Well... uh... Mr. Walrus, sir... he... uh... is in his... ummm... office... sir." Chewy shoved the sniveling brain into a table of experiments.
"Thanks, peon."
Chewy pushed in the door of his boss, the Shark, just in time to see the large man finishing off his pastrami on rye.
"Stuffing our face again, I see."
"Quite," the Shark sputtered, swallowing his sandwich. He gestured towards a chair. "Sit."
"No thanks... I'd rather stand."
"Oh... yes... well, I have an assignment for you, Chewy."
"That's Mr. Walrus, to you," Chewy sneered.
"Oh, pish tosh!" the white haired man said, reaching for a file. "You're like my own son... why I would call you anything else is just madness."
"Whatever."
"Anyway, there's an envoy stopping tonight at O'Hare," Shark opened the file, showing Chewy it's contents. "This man, the President-Prime Minister of Mandelovia, will be stopping in tonight. He's a most important diplomat..."
"...from some insignificant Euro-'peon' nation..." Chewy finished sarcastically.
"No, sir." Shark reprimanded. "Mandelovia is the world's leading technological nation. He's carrying a piece of highly experimental cargo. I want you, our best agent, to accompany him."
"Sir, no offense," Chewy began, "but this is a BABYSITTING job! I'm the best of the best! Put me after something big!"
"Terrorists and mercenaries from all over the world will be after that chip," Shark said, sliding Chewy an airline ticket. "He could use the protection. You game?"
Chewy shrugged. "I guess. Not like I've got anything better to do." Chewy reached for the ticket. "So where're we headed, anyway?"
"Melbourne, Australia."