Work Text:
"Are the sharks still circling out there?" Vicki Cucumber asked her fellow photojournalist, Nadine Asparagus, who manned the front-facing fifth-floor office window on her behalf. Night had long fallen, and Vicki felt in need of a change of scenery, preferably without a mob descending on her when she stepped outside.
"Five news vans and about twenty reporters on foot," replied Nadine, studying the street below. "All you're missing is a news chopper, Miss Popular."
"Only a matter of time before the paparazzi break out the climbing equipment to scale the walls," joked an orange named Steve who was at his desk putting the last-minute touches on his article about the local dog groomers' strike.
Vicki leaned back in her office chair, heaving a weary sigh. Without even peeking at her compact mirror, she was sure she had bags under her eyes, and her purple eyeshadow and pink lipstick probably both needed a good touch-up for that matter.
"I've camped out here at the office before," she said with resignation. "They can't stay forever."
Steve shot her a wry smirk. "Are you forgetting what we in the news business are like?"
"No, it makes sense," Nadine said lightly. "Once the Sunday paper goes out tomorrow with Vicki's big story, then each reporter loses their chances of being the first person to cover the situation. They'll be scrambling to get a quote to make up for it, but eventually it's going to be last week's news — literally," she added, checking the clock, which drew steadily closer to midnight.
Vicki did not blame the reporters. If the positions were reversed, she would be out on the street with her work camera, trying to get a snapshot of any person who had been kidnapped by a debuting supervillain in a jetpack and who had then been rescued by an eccentric (but charmingly kind) onion superhero high above the city of Applyburg, but Vicki had finished all her office work, and there was only so many times she could play Minesweeper before she started thinking about going home. Maybe she could loan Nadine her apartment key and have her pick up a change of clothes, her make-up kit, and her pillow.
She stretched and smoothed back her blonde hair, wishing she had not lost the comb she kept in her desk, and right then a bald cucumber man in a tan boiler suit stepped up to her desk.
"If you need a way to get home, Vicki, I might know how," he said seriously.
Vicki smiled up tiredly at her janitor friend. "What's that, Larry?"
"I could have my butler—uh, this guy I know come over to drive you home. In a limousine."
"A limo?" asked Nadine, turning around.
"He drives a limousine for this super rich guy," Larry explained. "He could bring it around to the back of the building, and we can sneak Vicki out to it,"
"Wouldn't that draw more attention than it would avoid?" asked Steve, quirking an eye ridge.
"Not if you time it right," Larry insisted. "I could loan you my cap and a spare janitor's uniform, and no one would recognize you."
"Wouldn't it look weird if one of the reporters saw a janitor enter a limo?" Nadine pointed out. "Some might be watching the back door in case Vicki goes out that way."
"Good point." Larry screwed up his face in thought. "Well… I'll come up with something, Vicki. I won't let anyone harass you."
"My knight in cucumber-shaped armor," Vicki joked, and Larry brightened at her words. For a guy who was often sarcastic, he could be charming around her.
"Well, Vicki," he said slowly, "maybe we can—"
But Vicki's flip phone began to ring, and she leaned over to check the caller I.D.
She sighed tiredly.
"Hold that thought, Larry," she said, picking up her phone, the exterior screen of which had PETUNIA RHUBARB lit up in flashing letters. "I might have to take this."
Vicki had known Petunia since her college days, and they had stayed in touch, despite technically being rivals. Where Vicki had gone into photojournalism and joined the ranks of The Daily Apple, Petunia had pursued a career at Applyburg Channel 1 News, and she had recently been promoted to a news reporter, soon becoming the darling of the station. Bob the Tomato, the editor of their newspaper, rankled at any mention of the TV star, since she had allegedly stolen many of the newspapers' prospective buyers with her pretty face.
Vicki had seen Petunia from a distance at a press conference earlier, but they had not gotten a chance to speak — especially after S-Cape, the new supervillain, had plucked up Vicki and raced off into the sky. Petunia had attempted to call Vicki several times since then, and Vicki decided at last to take pity on her.
Mentally preparing herself to deal with a fellow, indefatigable news hound, Vicki forced a smile on her face so that her voice would sound pleasant enough and accepted the call.
"Hey, Petunia."
"It's about time, Victoria!" scolded the rhubarb. "Do you know how worried I was for you?"
"And worried about losing a big news story too, I'm guessing?" Vicki drawled.
"Vicki, I'm shocked! Shocked and hurt that you would think that about me! Here I've been trying to check on my old college friend, and you fling accusations at me."
"Uh-huh. So, you aren't interested in getting an exclusive interview with your old college friend?"
"Well…" Petunia faltered. "Well, do you really think that I could see my pal get snatched up by a supervillain, witness a superhero go after her, and not want to talk to her about it later?"
Vicki kept her tone civil. "Look, Tunia, I've had a long day, and I don't feel like getting hounded by a plucky reporter."
"Hey, Pot. Remember me? I'm Kettle."
"Well, it's different when you're on the receiving end," Vicki pointed out.
"I guess you're right," Petunia conceded, and then her voice brightened: "Hey, I know. Let's grab coffee tomorrow. We'll talk, just us girls."
"Can't. I'm visiting my brother, Franky, for his birthday."
"Then how about tonight? We can get decaf, and you can tell me all about your exciting brush with death."
Vicki leaned back, looking heavenward. "Is this invitation coming from a TV reporter? Or a friend?"
A pause followed, and then Petunia answered, "A friend, of course. Believe it or not, I've been concerned for your life beyond just getting a good news story."
"So, no news camera and microphones?"
"Cub Sprout's honor."
"Or tape recorders?"
Another pause. "If you insist…"
"Fine then," Vicki agreed at last. "I'll meet you down at the all-night coffee place over on Cyndney Boulevard."
Petunia chuckled. "Neutral territory for news folk, eh?"
"Well, I don't think Bob would ever forgive me if I invited you to break bread over on our turf," Vicki joked.
"Oh, if he fired you, I could get you a job over here at the news station," Petunia replied lightly. "After all, we TV reporters always need people to fetch us coffee."
"Magnamious as always, Tunia," Vicki answered dryly, and after agreeing on a few more details, they hung up.
Slipping her phone in her pocket, she swiveled in her chair to face Larry, who had been listening to her side of the conversation with an aghast look. She smiled at him.
"So, about that friend of yours who drives a limo?"
They had to time it just right.
Larry and Steve had gone out the front door to provide a distraction, twirling a mop and broom respectively in an impromptu drill routine. Larry shouted out a silly camp song (with Steve doing the repeat part): "I said ah broom chicka broom! I said ah broom chicka broom! I said ah broom chicka mop-ah chicka mop-ah chicka broom…" Meanwhile, Nadine and Vicki had snuck down to the back door. Nadine went out first to draw the proverbial fire of any hidden reporters — and a few emerged from the shadows, wanting a quick interview. Nadine broke into a run, drawing them to one mouth of the alley, and the reporters did not see the limousine pulling in from the opposite side. Vicki, running half-doubled over, reached the back door and dove inside.
"Victoria Cucumber, I presume?" came the monotone voice of an asparagus in a chauffeur's hat.
"Got it in one," she smiled, panting slightly from exertion as she slung on her seatbelt. "You're Larry's friend, Alfred?"
"Quite," he replied. "Where to, Miss?"
She told them, and he put on his blinker. As he pulled onto the street, Vicki turned in her seat and noticed the reporters chasing Nadine skid to a halt and spun around to gape after the limo. One snapped a photograph, but otherwise they were too late to do anything.
Ten minutes later, Alfred deposited Vicki at the coffee shop. As she climbed out, she turned toward him and asked, "Will your employer mind that you're using his car to help me?"
"Not at all," Alfred replied in that same tone. "He insisted I help a lady in distress."
That caught Vicki by surprise. "Well, tell him I said thanks. I owe him one."
"Very good, Miss."
Out on the sidewalk, Vicki paused to watch the limousine driving away, wishing she had remembered to ask who Alfred's employer was so that she could send the guy a fruit basket or something. Ah, well. She could ask Larry when she saw him.
Yellow neon letters spelled ESPRESSO YOURSELF above the front door, and the aroma of coffee grounds and a freshly mopped floor met Vicki as she entered, but she had barely stopped to survey the comfortably-lit area when a slim rhubarb with a green complexion and red hair rushed over to greet her.
"Oh, there you are, Vick!" her friend said with a mix of happiness and exasperation. "You're looking well for someone who has stared danger in the face."
"Or what the rest of Applyburg calls another Saturday," Vicki returned.
"Good point."
The two exchanged sisterly side-hugs but did not chat much until after they placed their drink orders and found a small table by the window to sit.
"I sure came here a lot when I was an intern," Petunia smiled as she draped her trench coat over her chair. "I can't tell you how many coffee orders I had to pick up just that first week alone — all those credit cards and twenty-dollar bills to keep track of…"
She shook her head with an exaggerated shudder.
"I remember when my work friend, Nadine, first invited me here," Vicki remembered as she took her own chair. "I was just a cub photographer, and she was already one of the best photojournalists, so it was like being invited to sit at the cool kid's table."
"And now look at us," Petunia said, leaning back with a small smirk. "One of us is a star of television, and the other gets to have coffee with a star of television."
"The highlight of my day," cracked Vicki.
The two talked a little about work — Petunia was going to this place in two days for her upcoming assignment; Vicki was hoping Bob would let her cover that new exhibit at the Applyburg Science Museum of History and Really Old Stuff — and they were laughing over their past misadventures when an employee called out, "Petunia!" Petunia stood and collected their drink orders. Over the intercom, the popular cover song, "Gourds Just Wanna Have Fun", began to play.
"Oh, I love this song!" Petunia beamed as she returned, sinking back in her chair. "The first time Ryan and I ever danced together was to this one."
Vicki took a sip of her decaf coffee and asked, "How is Ryan doing these days?"
"Oh, we're not dating any more," Petunia answered lightly.
Vicki's eyebrows shot up. "Really? But you guys were so cute together."
She checked her friend's face for any signs of hurt or bitterness, but Petunia's eyes glittered, and the rhubarb reached for the collar of her pink dress. She pulled out a gold chain, and hanging on it like a pendant was a gorgeous diamond ring.
"See? Not dating," she said fondly.
Vicki laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, that was a pretty good joke."
"Ryan keeps telling me not to pull that one on people, but I can't resist a great prank," Petunia chuckled, allowing the ring to hang freely against her dress. "And what's a joke between friends, right, Vick? Speaking of which, keep June 26th free. I may need some bridesmaids."
"Just as long as I don't have to wear something tacky like I had to at my cousin's wedding."
"Oh, as if I could commit a crime against fashion at my own wedding!" Petunia cried, clutching her necklace and pretending to be mortified.
Vicki smiled. For all that Petunia tried to present herself as a cool, driven reporter, she was just a silly joker underneath.
"Congratulations, Tunia. You must be so excited."
"No, I'm elated," she replied, leveling her gaze with Vicki's with that "getting down to business" look. "You're the one who has gone through all the real excitement. Getting kidnapped by a supervillain, and then a superhero comes after you on his hovercraft charger to save you. Much more newsworthy."
Vicki laid her drink down and checked the time on her phone. "You made it ten minutes, Tunia. That's a new record for you."
"Oh, that's not fair, Vicki!" she protested. "I'd be interested in what happened even if I wasn't a reporter! You can't expect me not to be curious!"
"I guess." Vicki looked heavenward. Petunia was going to be Petunia.
"So," Petunia said, beginning to smile, "I saw that you interviewed Alvin earlier in the week, and now he's saved you, giving you another big news story. Some gals get all the luck."
Vicki quirked her eyebrow. "You read The Daily Apple?"
"I like to keep on top of all the news," Petunia replied. "So, what's Altruistic Alvin like in real life? I picture him as the intellectual sort, you know, since he wears that monocle and builds all those gadgets. He probably quotes poetry and mathematical equations every other sentence. You know, like a stuck-up brainiac who fights crime."
"Not really," said Vicki, shaking her head. "Alvin's smart, but he doesn't lord it over anybody or make you feel stupid. He's too nice for that. He's more…" She searched her mind for the right way to describe her new friend. "He's a little… eccentric, but his heart is in the right place."
Petunia inched forward in her chair. "How so?"
"How many other guys would put on a costume and fight criminals every day?" Vicki answered evasively.
Petunia pouted. "C'mon, Vicki, give me something to work with here."
"I thought we were just meeting as friends?" Vicki reminded her.
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Force of habit," she said with a sheepish laugh and quickly took a sip of her decaf, low-fat latte. "So, what's with that lamp that he carries everywhere?"
"That's Lampy. He's okay."
"'He'?"
"Well, I'm not going to call him an 'it,' am I?" Vicki replied.
"Are you putting me on?"
Vicki did not try to explain; she had learned in her initial interview with Alvin that Lampy had been his only friend in his lonely background, but she had decided not to include that information in the paper.
"Anyway," Vicki said, "Alvin's a good guy, both on and off duty."
Petunia tilted her head, studying Vicki. "And do you know how he happened to know you were kidnapped and raced after you in time?"
"No comment." Vicki lifted her coffee and took a sip.
"Do you know why S-Cape kidnapped you in the first place?"
"No comment."
"Aw, c'mon, Vicki! Aren't you a little curious? Or do you already know?" — squinting at her.
Vicki lowered her cup to give her a flat look. "Tunia, you're my friend, but I already know how far I can trust you when it comes to a news story. We both worked on the college paper, remember?"
"Oh, please, I'm not that opportunistic."
Vicki lifted an eyebrow.
"...All the time," Petunia added, averting her gaze.
"Fortunately, most of the important details will be in tomorrow's edition, and you can read it then."
"You're no fun." She slumped back, pursing her red lips. "Well… maybe Altruistic Alvin can give me all the details in person."
Vicki shrugged. "If you can find him, but he's pretty hesitant about giving interviews. He made an exception for me, but I'm not sure how he'd feel about anyone else."
"And what made you so special?"
Vicki paused, thinking it over. Everything had started when Vicki had slipped her number and request for an interview into Alvin's pocket while he was busy dealing with an onslaught of reporters, and he had left a message on her answering machine instructing her to meet him on the roof of her apartment that night. He had told her that her unusual manner of delivering an invitation had been what convinced him to give her a try.
"I guess… I amused him. Or something like that."
"You didn't use semaphore flags to contact him, did you?"
Vicki lifted her head. "I only pulled that stunt once, Tunia. You don't have to keep bringing that up."
Petunia sipped her latte thoughtfully, then smiled, her eyes gleaming. "Can I meet him?"
Vicki rolled her eyes yet again. "I'm not going to take advantage of my acquaintanceship with Alvin to advance your career, Petunia, even if we are friends."
Petunia sighed, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "I get it. I get it. You don't want to share your superhero who gives you exclusive interviews, but what if I just happened to be nearby one day when you're talking to Alvin? Would you introduce us then?"
"How 'just happened' are we talking about in this scenario?"
"It could happen," Petunia insisted. "Statistically speaking, you and I are going to cover some of the same stories in the future, and some of those might involve Altruistic Alvin. If the three of us are in the same area, it stands to reason that we might all end up talking, right?"
"If he is okay with it, then sure. If Alvin thinks he can handle you, then more power to him."
"Great!" Petunia beamed.
Vicki could practically see her plans for exclusive interviews written on her face, and she quickly shook her coffee cup at Petunia.
"Just don't embarrass him, okay?"
Petunia blinked at her innocently. "Me? Why would I do that?"
"I only mean…" Vicki hesitated, trying to put her thoughts into words. "He's not like those other public figures we interview, you know? He's more than just some sound clip to play on the news. He's kind and decent and a little awkward and gentle…"
Vicki pushed back her hair, remembering Alvin's strong hold on her when they had been dangling over a deadly drop. She thought of his playful energy and how he showed such concern for her and how his friendly yellow eyes allowed her to see the kind soul inside.
"Very gentle," she murmured.
Petunia tittered into her napkin. "Oh, is that how it is?"
Vicki straightened, feeling her face warm, and she put on the coolest glare that her dignity could muster.
"This isn't high school, Petunia," she chided her. "I'm just saying that if you want multiple interviews with Alvin, you have to be kind to him the first time you talk to him."
"Fine, fine," Petunia agreed. "Don't kill the goose that laid the golden egg."
Vicki inwardly cringed, remembering her own initial intentions toward pursuing an interview with Alvin before she had gotten to know him. She had seen Alvin as her ticket to success, but he was much more than that now.
"Well, he's not really a goose, Petunia," she said slowly.
"But he kinda looks like one," she pointed out with a soft chuckle. "Poor guy."
Vicki frowned. "Don't say that about him. He's fine just the way he is."
"Sure, sure." Petunia tilted her head, her smirk widening. "So, when are you going to pop the question?"
Vicki spun away, shaking her head. "Oh, grow up…"
Their conversation turned to more pleasant subjects after that, like Petunia's wedding plans, which she was only too glad to share.
"June brides are always fashionable," she grinned, getting a little starry eyed just thinking about her custom-made dress which she had already ordered.
After ten minutes or so, Vicki suddenly looked at her phone and told Petunia that she needed to get some rest for the trip the next morning to see her brother, and the two headed out to the sidewalk.
"Wish Franky a happy birthday for me," Petunia told her with a friendly smile. "If I had known sooner, I'd have bought a card for you to take up to the prison."
"He'll be thrilled just to be remembered," Vicki said, and the two exchanged a parting hug.
"Remember, June 26!" she called to Vicki as she started down the street for her car.
"A fashionable date!" Vicki returned with a laugh, already leaning over the curb to signal an approaching cab.
"You know it!" Petunia grinned.
Petunia had to wait for a truck to pass before she unlocked her car and slipped into the driver's seat. She watched as Vicki climbed into the taxi and drove off before she reached into the pocket of her trenchcoat and hit the stop button on her cassette player, which had been silently recording her meeting with Vicki. Petunia pulled it out, noting how much tape had been used, and she shook her head. She went through all that trouble of breaking a promise to her friend, and during that whole time she had barely gotten any good quotes she could show her producer. "You're grasping at straws, kid," Petunia could hear her say.
No matter. At least if Petunia stayed on Vicki's good side for the present, then Vicki would be more willing to introduce Petunia to her superhero. More importantly, Altruistic Alvin would be more willing to give an interview to a good friend of his good friend — or his "more than good friend," if Vicki's flustered behavior was any indication.
"I've bided my time for a great story before," Petunia said aloud, pulling her sun visor down to meet her eyes in the vanity mirror. "The longer it takes, the more about Alvin I can dig up."
She knew how Vicki Cucumber thought; she must have approached Altruistic Alvin in order to get exclusive interviews from him, so who was she to tell Petunia that she could not do the same?
"All is fair in love and news coverage," she told herself, flicking the visor back into place.
THE END