Phil Bond in BRAWN NEVER DIES - The Misadventures of Phil Bond: Accidental Secret Agent

by TheOrange - 24.DEC.2000

Lost Episodes Reading Order < 17 >

<2:06 A.M., 23 December 2000 -- Somewhere Far Removed From Civilization -- Quebec, Canada>

Evil Moderator #5: Breach in Sector Three, thread: "i think cheetor is so cool!!!" - Confirm IP. Delete. Repeat. Delete.

Evil Moderator #2: Repetitious post detected in "who do u think would win superman or mewtwo." Commence immediate thread lockdown.

Evil Moderator #4: Intelligence detected in Sectors Eight, Five, Nine and Two. Confirm IP address, ban, and delete.

Delete...

Music to Renaud's ears.

Evil Moderator #1: Sir! Unauthorized invitation located in thread "WHY EBAY SUX!"

Renaud: An invitation? Show me!

Evil Moderator #2: Commencing shutdown of Sectors Five, Six, and Seven.

Evil Moderator #4: Area cleared, lockdown confirmed.

Evil Moderator #3: Scanning for IP address...

Renaud: Just as I suspected, he's invited yet another of my loyal subjects to the AllSpark...

Evil Moderator #5: He's a tricky one. We can't resolve his location.

Evil Moderator #1: He must be using a free internet service to mask his IP address.

Renaud: <eyes aflame> Hand me the keyboard.

Evil Moderator #1: <at attention> Oui, Monsieur!

Renaud seats himself at Evil Moderator #1's Moderation Station, and begins typing.

Evil Moderator #3: He's slipped away, Monsieur. Our records of his activity are inadequate to track him.

Renaud: We're not beaten yet. These American pig-dogs have yet to get the best of me!

Evil Moderators: Oui, Monsieur!

With all mastery the French-Canadian muster, Renaud begins typing.

Renaud pauses.

Renaud: Hand me... Le Livre!

Evil Moderator #1: Le Livre!

Evil Moderator #2: Le Livre!

From a vault hidden behind a curtain, one of the Evil Moderators procures the sacred item.

Evil Moderator #5: Le Livre, Monsieur, as you requested.

Renaud: Renaud does not request, Renaud DEMANDS!

Evil Moderators: Oui, Monsieur!

Renaud thumbs through the book, searching, searching... and finally stops.

Renaud: This one will do.

In the "Name" field on his web browser, he types in "S-P-R-I-N-G-E-R-6-6-6."

Renaud: Now, all we have to do is wait until he reads my accusations that the devilish AllSpark is the pit of Satan, and that I have knowledge that he has posted as SexyArcee and SCheetor57. When he responds to this post with flaming -- and he will -- we shall have trapped him in our carefully laid web.

Evil Moderator #1: Brilliant, Monsieur!

Evil Moderator #2: Well done, Monsiuer!

Evil Moderator #3: Monsieur, the thread appears to be inactive. He may not return for some time.

Renaud pauses thoughtfully, steepling his French-Canadian fingers.

Renaud: Then we wait.

The Evil Moderators all applaud in agreement. Renaud furrows his brow.

Renaud: You shall be avenged... L'Orageux... I swear it.

[Insert Evil Laughter here]

BRAWN NEVER DIES

</Title><Credits>

Starring: Phil Bond, Renaud Lefbvre, and Angelina Jolie as "Agent 37"

Co-starring: Chris Deschane, Phil's Girlfriend Liz, Senator Herb Kohl, Senator Russ Feingold, and George Takei as "The Boss"

Guest Appearance by: The Cast Of Beast Machines: The Lost Episodes, Season 2.

Story by TheOrange

Based Upon "Beast Machines: The Lost Episodes" created by Traegorn RavenHawk

</Credits>

Giant robots with really big guns float across the screen. Footage of Brawn getting shot over and over occasionally pops up. The silhouette of a row of these robots resolves into a close-up of a dorm room floor as the theme song ends.

</OpeningSequence>

<3:57 P.M., 23 December 2000 -- Phil's Girlfriend Liz's Dorm Room -- UW-Madison -- Madison, Wisconsin>

Phil Bond: Where's the green?

Liz: Over here, next to Heavyarms.

Phil Bond: But he's not green.

Liz: So?

Phil Bond: He's tiny.

Liz: He's cute!

Phil Bond: <sigh> Could you just pass me the green, please?

As Liz passes Phil the green paint jar, a Liz's not-completely-repainted McJetstorm Happy Meal toy catches Phil's eye.

Phil Bond: Jetstorm...

Images of State Street flash before Phil's eye.

Phil Bond: Has it really been a year? A year since...

Jetstorm: I blame you for this...

</flashback>

Phil Bond: Well, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that.

Liz: Yes it did! [Author's Note: See Beast Machines: The Lost Episodes, Episode 5 - A Day in the Life (Of Jetstorm) for the full story]

Phil Bond: Oh yeah.

Phil picks up the show-perfect McDonald's toy and turns it over in his hands.

Phil Bond: Jetstorm... <looks at the ceiling, presumably through it to the sky> I wonder what he's doing right now?

NickBee: Talk, Skir.

Diagnostic Drone: No, no, you're not doing it proper! Here, you have to grab me from the bottom this time, and really give me a good yank! <To everyone> Ahem, can we try this again? Places everyone, places!

Benny: <thumbing through script> Aw, shee-it, bitch, where's my scene?

Primal: There's no time for that now!

Cheetor: Optimus, you don't seem to be quite yourself, why don't you let me take over, and...

Primal: Why, so you can get Blackarachnia to pet you?

Cheetor: No! I mean... no!

Blackarachnia: Did someone call me?

Silverbolt: Pay them no mind, my love. We are still trying to perfect my first entrance into the season as Silverbolt.

Blackarachnia: You're still brooding too much.

Silverbolt: Too much? After all I went through at the hands of Megatron--

Diagnostic Drone: No, no, she's right. If you brood too much, you'll overshadow NickBee's shining moment. This is his episode, after all.

NickBee: <grabbing the drone and pulling him to his face> ...what was that?

Diagnostic Drone: No, no, it's still all wrong. Scare me, baby. Make me believe it.

NickBee: <letting go> What, are you saying I'm not good enough?

Diagnostic Drone: Not at all. It's just that you strike me as more of a "Jonathan Knight" than a "Danny Wood."

NickBee: "Jonathan?"

Diagnostic Drone: Okay, Joey MacIntyre?

NickBee: <grabbing the Diagnostic Drone securely by his servos> What did you say!?

Diagnostic Drone: That's good! Print it!

Traegorn RavenHawk: Where did I go wrong?

Galvatron: BWAAAAAAAAAAAA!

</cut>

Liz: Say, where's Orange?

Phil Bond: Huh? It's right next to Wing Zero.

Liz: No, poo-poo head, I mean ORANGE. He was supposed to be here today.

The phone rings.

Liz: I bet that's him. You wanna get it?

Phil Bond: No.

Liz burns a hole into Phil's soul with her stone-cold stare.

Phil Bond: Okay, okay... <answering> Yello? Orange?

Mysterious Voice: Open the door.

Phil Bond: Jeez, dude, don't get pushy. You're late as it is.

Mysterious Voice: This is a matter of the utmost--

Phil hangs up.

Phil Bond: Hang in here, I'm gonna let him in [Author's Note: The Elizabeth Waters Dorm requires people to phone in from the entrance so the tenants will come to the front and let the person in].

Liz: But I wanna go too!

Phil Bond: Why?

Liz: Because... I have the key [Author's Note: Each resident gets a key which will open the front door, the "suite" door, and their room door. They also get in an ass-load of trouble if they lend it out to anyone else].

Phil Bond: Gimme that. Back in a flash!

Liz: Hey!

Phil: Orange?

No one answers.

Phil: Dude, you gotta...

Senator Herb Kohl: Surrender!

Phil Bond: Yipe!

Phil and Senator Herb Kohl wrestle on the ground. Phil does a backflip, sending the older Senator into a stack of "The Onion" newspapers. The riled Senator gets up and shoulders Phil into the wall, but Phil grabs him by the lapels and throws his forehead into the bridge of the Senator's nose. Unfazed, Senator Kohl grabs Phil's arms, twists them over his head, and tries to throw him down the stairs to the lower level. Phil hitches his feet around one of the Senator's ankles and they both plummet down the flight of steps to the darkened lower lobby. Liz pops out of her suite, only to find the two in a heap on the floor.

Phil Bond: Liz! Get the plunger!

Liz: I can't get back in, you have the key!

Phil Bond: Crikey...

The Senator wastes no time with idle chit-chat, as he twists one of Phil's arms behind his back. Phil drops the key, and the Senator snatches it up and throws it back to Liz.

Phil Bond: We can't keep meeting like this.

Senator Herb Kohl: <with Phil firmly in headlock> The Boss would like to see you.

Phil Bond: Geez, you'd think he'd call first.

Senator Herb Kohl: He did.

Mysterious Voice: Answer your door. This is a matter of utmost--

Phil Bond: Yeah yeah, can't you see I'm painting, here?

</flashback>

Phil Bond: Oh, right.

Liz: Well, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that.

Senator Kohl helps Phil up.

Senator Herb Kohl: We shall depart immediately. You know how impatient he gets.

Phil Bond: I'm beginning to get the idea.

Liz: Hey, are you just going to leave me here?

Senator Herb Kohl: Yup. Here, catch!

The Senator throws something in Liz's direction.

Liz: Oooh! Tallgeese! How cute!

Senator Herb Kohl: Quickly, while she's distracted...

Flame War Central
> Flame Wars!
> brawn is ded
<RedXIII>: brawn is dead he wuz shot by megatron and fel over in th movie i saw it with my own two i's.

<Unicron666>: Thats the stupidiest thing I ever heard! You can't even speel! Use puncuation you lozer! Didn't you see where he got shot? In his shoulder! Would you die from a wound like that?

<BottleRocket>: Hey, I scanned a picture of my--

***

Genome Studios
> General Discussion
> Brawn Lives!
<HotRod42>: Dude, I saw it with my own eyes! There was this cut scene in the movie that only I got to see and in it Brawn fell over but he didn't die! And he rode Snarl into the Stunticons and they had a really big fight but Brawn beat them all! And that scene was cut, which is why it wasn't in the movie but I saw it!

<Arcee666>: Whatever, didn't you read his tech specs? He's specially immune to energy like Megatron's. One shot in his shoulder wouldn't kill him.

<HotRod42>: Yeah, but Megatron get's his power from a black hole. In an episode that never aired, I got to see Megatron fight Galactus, and he--

***

(Ben Yee's) Beast Machines Discussion Room
> Brawn isn't dead
<SoupNazi2000>: Didn't anyone see Carnage in C Minor? That episode happened after the movie! It's obvious Brawn survived because he was a traitor! He was seen fighting with the Decepticons!

<UltraMagnus>: Yeah, but all of the animators were on crack in the third season, so nothing they did can be trusted. It was probably just an animation error.

<OptimusPrimus>: Yeah, and when I died in the movie, that was an animation error too.

<UltraMagnus>: Shut up, you're so immature. I remember the good old days, when this place was--

***

Funky Party Weasel: This... ends... NOW!

IP DELETE -> ALL

Funky Party Weasel: Funny, most of the board cleared off. Something strange is going on...

<7:38 P.M., 23 December 2000 -- Some random lift -- The Agency>

Phil Bond: Something strange is going on.

Chris Deschane: I'll say. They actually asked you to come back.

Phil Bond: Smart ass.

Chris Deschane: Shiftless layabout.

The two ride in silence until the lift comes to a stop. The lift opens and both young adult men try to leave at the same time, but stop when they notice the other moving. Phil finally goes through first. Agent 37 greets them both. She has something in her hands.

Agent 37: Welcome back, Mr. Bond. I trust you found something interesting to do in your absence.

Phil Bond: Yeah, Liz and I hung out a lot. We've started painting Gundam Wing model kits together.

Agent 37 doesn't say anything. Phil isn't sure what to do.

Chris Deschane: I think I'll go see if The Boss needs any help.

Phil Bond: Dink.

Chris Deschane: Lazy bum.

Deschane disappears behind a cleverly concealed door. Phil eyes what Agent 37 is holding.

Phil Bond: Is, that, uh, my uniform? It looks a little... different.

Agent 37: Ah, yes. Well, we've made some modifications. We'll be getting a little more down and dirty this time, and you know how the Boss hates dry-cleaning bills.

Phil decides against saying anything and just puts the uniform on as Agent 37 suits up. Once he's done, he is left with a red strip of cloth in his hand.

Phil Bond: What's this for?

Agent 37: It goes on your head.

Phil Bond: Huh?

Agent 37: Here, lemme show you...

Phil remains passive as Agent 37 ties the band around his head, making sure that it's covered by just enough hair and that the tails are just the right length. This is when he notices that she hadn't completely finished getting dressed.

Phil Bond: Ahem...

Agent 37: <looking away and continuing to change> I don't suppose Chris told you why you were brought here?

Phil Bond: Didn't say a thing. I don't think he likes me.

Phil pulls his gun out of his holster and cradles it as if it were an infant.

Phil Bond: <to his Walther P-38> Miss me?

Agent 37: <blushes> Every day.

Phil Bond: Huh? I didn't--

Agent 37 stares at Phil, who seems to be at a loss for words.

Agent 37: We should get going... The Boss--

Phil Bond: ...we know how impatient he gets.

Agent 37: Something like that.

She silently leaves the room the same way that Deschane did. Phil stands by himself for a moment before following.

Phil Bond: <to the gun> I blame you for this.

<7:55 P.M., 23 December 2000 -- Somewhere Far Removed From Civilization -- Quebec, Canada>

Evil Moderator #5: <SuperGodFireConvoyMagnus>: I heard that Brawn survived because he made a deal with Unicron--

Evil Moderator #2: <Brawn224>: I'm alive, see? See how I'm not dead?

Evil Moderator #4: <DarkRodimus>: It's not 2005 yet, of course he isn't dead--

Evil Moderator #`1: <Unicron2>: Of course he's dead. His spark was located in his shoulder--

A single chip is placed before Renaud on the desk located near the glass wall of his massive office.

Evil Moderator #3: Monsieur, I have come to report on the status of the prisoner, as reported.

Renaud: And what have you learned?

Evil Moderator #3: He is an operative of L'Agence, Monsieur.

Renaud: L'Agence...

Renaud's eyes glaze over as bad, bad memories bubble to the surface, memories to which he utters a single name...

Renaud: ...L'Orageux.

Evil Moderator #3: <smirking> He did not put up much of a fight, Monsieur, once he saw what we did to his reputation by commandeering his screen names and forging message board posts with them.

Renaud remains silent, rolling the chip between his thumb and index finger.

Evil Moderator #3: Monsieur?

Renaud remains silent for a while, then looks up.

Renaud: They will send... him.

Evil Moderator #3: Oui, Monsieur!

Renaud: Then it is important that we make sure we are ready. Have all the preparations been made?

Evil Moderator #3: Monsieur, the webmasters are still preparing the links and scouring other sites for the appropriate pictures. It's still going to take some time.

Renaud: Forget all that. We shall capture our own screenshots. BUY the tape if you have to.

Evil Moderator #3: Buy it? Monsieur?!

Renaud: Spare no expense! The plan must not fail! On Christmas Day, I will be getting the greatest present of all!

Evil Moderator #3: Oui, Monsieur!

Renaud: But, until our objective is completed, our top priority is the most foul and underhanded member of L'Agence...

Renaud's eyes cloud over.

Renaud: ...Le Phil Bond.

Evil Moderator #1: <SexyArcee>: Brawn is dead--

Evil Moderator #2: <BiggerConvoy>: Brawn is dead--

Evil Moderator #4: <BlackBattleConvoy>: Brawn is dead--

<8:00 P.M., 23 December 2000 -- Briefing Room -- The Agency>

The Boss: Something strange is going on, and we think we know who's behind it.

Phil, Agent 37, and Chris Deschane look on as The Boss touches a control on his desk. The screen on the wall displays the image of a cozy hotel suite.

The Boss: At approximately 12:38 P.M. Central Standard Time, our internet operative in Minnesota disappeared from his hotel room in Brainard. Several minutes after making an inflammatory post at Bottalk.com we lost contact with him. Nothing was left, except this...

The Boss presses another switch.

The Boss: A single piece of fuzz that belongs to a shirt distinct to French-Canadians.

Chris Deschane: <shifting in his seat> There's only one French-Canadian dastardly enough to pull off something like this!

Agent 37: I don't like where this is going.

Phil Bond: Why, where is this going?

The Boss touches his desk, and a rather lengthy profile appears on the HDTV screen.

The Boss: Renaud Lef-- Lebf-- Le-- Oh heck, Renaud -- founder of Bigbot.com and moderator of the Bottalk Official Beast Machines message board. It seems that he's been posing under multiple names, all from the same IP address, and causing some havoc among the message boards.

Phil Bond: Renaud? THE Renaud?

The Boss: I see you've heard of him.

Everyone stares intently at Phil.

Phil Bond: Well, yeah. What TransFan wouldn't? His site's even been mentioned in Wizard magazine.

The Boss: I see. <pauses> Well, at any rate his pattern of behavior has changed. Before he was content to post under multiple identities, claiming that certain benign message board users were in fact doing the same thing, causing flames on other boards, and the like. But now he's using his identities to start a rumor.

Agent 37: What rumor?

The Boss: That Brawn is alive. Or dead.

Phil Bond: Brawn? The cartoon character Brawn?

Chris Deschane: <ignoring Phil> Which is it? Dead or Alive?

The Boss: It's both, I'm afraid. We can't quite figure out what he's up to. That's why we're going to air drop Agent 37 and Agent Bond into Quebec.

Phil and Deschane: WHAT!?

Deschane: Why the hell is *he* going?

Phil Bond: Why the hell am *I* going?

The Boss takes a seat in his chair, signaling for the video feed to be cut.

The Boss: The matter is not open for discussion. You depart in one hour. Best of luck, agents. Dismissed.

He turns around in his chair so that the three agents can no longer see him. Deschane and Phil stare at the back of the chair in utter shock.

The AllSpark
> Transformers Discussion
> How Brawn didn't die in TFTM
<Springer666>: Brawn only pretended to be deactivated, so he didn't really die. He waited until the Decepticons left the ship and then he jumped off to safety.

<HotRod42>: No, we all know that Prowl survived and piloted the shuttle to Japan, because that's what they said happened in Headmasters.

<SexyArcee>: Japanese continuity doesn't even count. Besides, I know what you're trying to do, Hot Rod! You and Springer are the same guy!

<HotRod42>: |Besides, I know what you're trying to do, Hot Rod! You and Springer are the same guy!| Ha ha, whatever, loser.

***

Bottalk
> Beast Machines Discussion
> this whole "brawn is dead" thing is stupid!!!!!
<bmlover>: i dont pretend to no a lot about this but this has to stop. i came hear to talk about tfs and all u guys want 2 do is fight and fight and fight and im sick of it. ill leave if this keeps up i mean it.

<SOULSTICE>: GO AHEAD AND LEAVE, EVERYONE WANTS YOU TOO!!! YOU'RE DESTROYING THIS PLACE AND I'M GOING TO SAVE IT!!!! SO LEAVE!!!! NO ONE WILL CARE WHEN YOU'RE GONE!!!

<soulstice>: who is this imposter..............i dont type like that and i never will...................stop typing in caps or ill have renaud ban you..................kiddie.....................

<bmlover>: What r you talking about u r renuad. both of you r.

<01:05 A.M., 24 December 2000 -- Somewhere Far Removed From Civilization -- Quebec, Canada>

A grating is slowly removed from the ceiling of a hallway, and Phil Bond and Agent 37 clad in white snow suits lower themselves down to the floor.

Phil Bond: <Unzipping his suit> You didn't have to push me out of the plane, you know.

Agent 37: What else was I supposed to do? You obviously weren't going to leave on your own.

Phil Bond: <brandishing his weapon> ...I woulda jumped.

Agent 37 removes her snowsuit. Pressing a button, it automatically shrinks down to the size of a softball. Phil stands ready in his new outfit, camouflaged with shiny metal shoulder pads.

Agent 37: Looks good on you.

Phil Bond: Aren't we supposed to be waiting for something?

They hear the sound of a toilet flushing through the wall.

Agent 37: That's our signal. Go!

Phil rounds the corner with his gun drawn. The darkened hallway doesn't allow for him to see much, or at least it normally wouldn't save for the special infrared display over his right eye. He motions for Agent 37 to follow, giving the "all clear." The shadowy figure of Renaud emerges from an alcove marked "restroom."

Phil Bond: This is too easy.

Agent 37: I'm going in. You cover me.

Phil Bond: Roger.

Agent 37 tiptoes her way up behind Renaud and aims her guns squarely at the center of his back.

Agent 37: Turn around, Renaud, slowly.

Renaud: <slowly pivoting on one heel> I have been expecting you. What took you so long?

Agent 37: Cut the crap, you 'Net Nazi, what's your game? What are you trying to pull?

Renaud: Cheri, did you think that you could just break in here, point a gun at me, extract whatever information you wanted from me, and leave without a scratch on you?

Agent 37: <smirking> It's worked for me before.

Renaud: Does it not bother you how calm I am despite being caught alone and unguarded on my way back from la toilette? Why, I have not even had time to zip up mon pantalon.

Agent 37: Phil, stay on guard...

Phil walks in with his hands on his head, followed by several guards with very big guns.

Agent 37: ...a trap!

Renaud: How very perceptive of you, cheri. <to guards> Seize them!

Phil Bond: This just hasn't been my day...

The guards try to surround the pair of spies, but due to the narrow passageway the guards are unable to both encircle the duo and keep their guns trained on them.

Renaud: <Eyes becoming as cold as a sled-dog's jimmy in the dead of winter> Monsieur Bond. I have been-- <slumps against the wall> no, this is no good.

Phil Bond and Agent 37: Huh?

Renaud: This is hardly the proper setting to give my "grand discours de se réjouir." I need a setting that more accurately reflects my superiority over the situation.

Renaud snaps his fingers.

Agent 37 and Phil are standing on the main level surrounded by guards with very large and intimidating guns. Renaud, flanked by his own personal security force, is on a second-tier platform looking down on the two hapless secret agents.

Renaud: Ah, much better.

Phil Bond: What the...?

Renaud: <Eyes becoming as cold as a sled-dog's jimmy in the dead of winter> Monsieur Bond. I have been expecting you.

Agent 37: ...a trap!

Renaud: How very perceptive of you, cheri. <to guards> Seize them!

The guard surround the two agents. Outnumbered, they drop their weapons and the henchmen tie their now empty hands behind their backs.

Renaud: It's been a long time, Monsieur Bond.

Phil Bond: What are you talking about, you frilly French fascist? I've never seen you before in my life.

Renaud: <getting visibly angry> How dare, Monsieur Bond! How dare you say such things to me!

Renaud wastes no time climbing down the steps to the main floor, cursing in French the entire way. He grabs Phil's confiscated Walther P-38, cocks it, and points it at our hero.

Renaud: How dare you make such lies to me, to my face!

Phil Bond: I suppose that now you'll want me to apologize to it?

Renaud hits Phil across the face with the barrel of the gun.

Agent 37: Stop it Renaud! He's telling you the truth! He doesn't know!

Phil Bond: Dammit! That hurt, you French turd!

Renaud strikes him again.

Agent 37: Renaud!

Renaud: <Handing the gun back to the nearest guard> You really have forgotten...

Phil just stares at Renaud.

Renaud: Well, I do not care what L'Agence did to you! I will not let you forget how you stole L'Orageux from me!

Phil Bond: ...what?

Renaud: Oui, Monsieur Bond. I am certain that you remember at least that much. With only seconds remaining in the auction, you robbed me of my God-given right to the first Deluxe Jetstorm available in all of North America! You robbed me of my right to review it, take pictures of it, hold it, love it...

Renaud circles the incarcerated pair.

Renaud: I have to admit, throwing it into Lake Monona was a stroke of genius on your part.

Phil Bond: I didn't--

Renaud: Silence! I am speaking now! I would think that no manner of brainwashing by L'Agence would cause you to forget your manners as well as your past dealings with me.

Agent 37: Don't listen to him, Phil! Close your eyes! Close your ears!

Renaud: <laughing> What are you afraid of, cheri? That he might learn the truth?

Agent 37: Please... Renaud...

Renaud: That he might learn of his lost past? Of his lost profession? Of his lost love?

Agent 37: It's a trick, Phil, he's just trying to make you lose control!

Phil Bond: It's working.

Renaud: Do you want that I should tell you how I spent the last year plotting your destruction? The preparations are all but complete, Monsieur Bond! The internet is currently on the verge of exploding. It's the absolute worst argument since FIRRIB RIRFIB.

Phil Bond: And I suppose you were behind that, too?

Renaud: You know me all too well, Monsieur Bond. But this is so much better. Once I post the "official" truth about the fate of Brawn on my website, it will begin a war between Bottalk and L'AllSpark, the two great powers in the message board world! With my recent backing by Wizard, no one will be able to intelligently refute my authority on the matter! The children of Bottalk will rise up against the scoundrels of L'AllSpark. You, mon cher garçon, get to live to watch the TransFan community tear itself apart. And I, Renaud Lefbvre, will emerge as its ruler supreme! My "Nazi-esque" patterns of behavior are not without cause, Monsieur Bond. They will believe anything I say... especially if it is Bob Skir who says it!

Agent 37: You wouldn't!

Phil Bond: You twisted little demigod...

Renaud: Take them away! I want them out of my sight until this is all over with! As soon as Monsieur Bond witnesses the destruction of all he holds dear, destroy him as well.

As Renaud leaves, he rakes the back if his hand across Agent 37's check.

Renaud: As for you, cheri, I'll deal with you later.

Phil Bond: You keep your hands off her!

Renaud: <laughing> Oh! And how do you plan to stop me, mon cher garçon, when you are dead?

Phil doesn't say anything, just winces at the pain emanating from his left cheek.

Renaud: As I thought. <to guards> Remove them!

Phil Bond: You aren't off that easily, you--

Guard #1: Look, kid, do we have to do this the easy way or the hard way?

Guard #2 thwacks Phil over the head with his gun.

Guard #3: <as Phil fades out of consciousness> The easy way...

<11:50 P.M., 24 December 2000 -- In a cell somewhere -- Quebec, Canada>

Agent 37: Are you finally awake?

Phil doesn't say anything, just stares at the wall.

Phil Bond: What's the real reason I was brought on this mission?

Agent 37: <shaking her head as if she were about to cry> Phil, you can't believe anything he told you. You--

Phil Bond: Was he telling the truth?

Agent 37: ...

Phil Bond: <more forcefully> Was he telling the truth!?

Agent 37: It was no accident that you won that Jetstorm on eBay last year.

Phil Bond: Yes it was!

Agent 37: No, it wasn't. Your compulsion to overpay for toys was our doing.

Phil Bond: I don't believe this...

Agent 37: You don't have to, just listen. Your poor eBay habits were a latent function of your Agency training. You acted on instinct, neutralizing a potential threat. You've actually known Renaud for quite some time now...

Phil Bond: <trying to untie his hands from behind his back> This is bullshit...

Agent 37: <on the verge of tears> It's the truth! You... the Agency...

Agent 37 draws closer to Phil.

Agent 37: ...us.

Phil slacks a little bit as he feels his stomach sink through his foot.

Agent 37: Everything... it's all true.

Phil Bond: So then why wasn't I deprogrammed again after Washington D.C., or every time after that, for that matter?

Agent 37: <voice cracking> Because, the last time we tried it... you didn't come back to us. I don't know, maybe you wanted out, maybe the doctor did something wrong... maybe it was something I did... but it doesn't matter now! None of it does if Renaud has his way!

Phil Bond: So you used me against my will?

Agent 37: We didn't have a choice! Do you know what would have happened if he had gotten his hands on Jetstorm a year ago? He would have cemented his internet dominance before anyone could have done anything about it. Imagine it, Phil... a world without hope... without love... without vowels. We couldn't allow that to happen.

Phil falls silent, not sure what to say.

Agent 37: Though that was pretty slick the way you threw Jetstorm into Lake Monona...

Phil Bond: I didn't--!

Phil reconsiders his outburst.

Phil Bond: ...that was pretty clever of me, wasn't it.

<Renaud's Bottalk Control Room, at about the same time -- Dramatic music starts playing>

The room is filled with every lack, hoodlum, and hacker under Renaud's employ. The Evil Moderators remain at their posts, ensuring that everything is prepared for the upload at midnight. On one side of the room, under a giant view screen, a stage is being prepared. On the opposite side, Renaud stands on a second-tier platform, ready to address his throng.

Renaud: <Raising a glass of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice> Today is an historic day, mes amis. You are here to witness the birth of an empire...

A wall begins to open nearby, just above Renaud's head.

Renaud: An Internet empire...

The wall in front of Phil and Agent 37 begins to split, giving them the clear view of a massive control room. The most immediate feature, however, is the large view screen with the Bigbot.com website displayed in a web browser, and a very large mouse pointer hovering over the "Refresh" button.

Renaud <below>: An empire that will rule the Twenty-First century with an iron fist...

Phil and Agent 37 look on in horror.

Agent 37: Hold me, Phil. Hold me...

Phil Bond: <struggling> ...I'd like to, but my hands are still tied.

Renaud: Not only in the Twenty-First Century, but beyond.

Cheer's erupt in the crowd. The Evil Moderators remain stone-faced, but Renaud allows himself a smirk of victory. Across the room, and incredibly thin waif trots onstage.

Phil and Agent 37, huddled together, look on as Celine Dion grabs the microphone.

Phil Bond: Will that madman stop at nothing!

Phil hears a chirp in Agent 37's ear.

The Boss <via inner ear radio>: Agent 37! Come in! Are you receiving me?

Celin Dion: ..mon coeur ira indéfiniment!

Agent 37: The Agency must have gotten my distress signal!

Phil Bond: What distress signal?

Agent 37 turns around so her back and hands are facing Phil. She manages to flip back a fake fingernail to reveal a very tiny radio-transmitter.

The Boss <via inner ear radio>: ...we are sending reinforcements as I speak.

Renaud: In under three minutes, I--

Just at that moment, the room explodes in a dazzling display of lights.

Voluminous Voice: Hold! I shall allow you to progress no further!

Renaud: It cannot be!

Evil Moderator #1: Russ Feingold!

Evil Moderator #2: The Chanukah Hebrew!

Agent 37: What the...?

Phil Bond: Oh man, we are SO getting sued for this.

Russ Feingold: I have heard everything, Renaud, and I cannot let you ruin the holiday season with your wicked plan!

Renaud: And just how do you plan to stop me, one who acts beneficently?

Russ Feingold: I do not have to stop you, for you have already defeated yourself!

Russ Feingold slowly floats to the ground, his yellow cape flapping gently in the air. He touches down before Celine Dion, who immediately swoons. Russ grabs the microphone from the stand and gives his speech. Violins in the pit orchestra begin to play.

Russ Feingold: You see, Renaud, your scheme for world domination was flawed from the start. You assumed that by taking away the certainty of the TransFans that they would rise up against each other. That certainty was the dispute over whether or not Brawn is dead.

Russ makes his way closer to Renaud's tier. The crowd parts before him.

Russ Feingold: But Brawn lives! He lives, I tell you! So long as each child holds him in his heart, he is just as real and true as anything else in this crazy, mixed-up world.

Renaud's expression begins to falter and as Russ climbs the steps to the second tier.

Russ Feingold: You underestimated TransFandom, Renaud. TransFans everywhere know that they should take things, even when they come from me, with a grain if salt. But to listen to you, Renaud, and to believe you simply because your website and some magazine says so... they would all have to take that with an ass-load of salt. A big ass-load. A really, really, really big ass-load.

The Senator/Chanukah Hebrew emphasizes the size of the ass-load with his armspan.

Agent 37 and Phil Bond stare out at the Control Room, completely dumbfounded.

Russ Feingold: Brawn Never Dies, Renaud. He lives in us all.

Renaud: ...

And what happened then...?

Well... in Quebec they say

That Renaud Lefbvre's heart

Grew three sizes that day.

...

I know, I don't believe it either.

The End