It's just not the same anymore. Life used to be an endless adventure, outwitting supervillains, flying in a needlejet. No more. Nothing like that anymore.
It started with Dad. Poor Dad. He never learned to specialize. He thought he could go on and on, the Great Scientist. But nobody wants to hire a professor of Science. You've gotta do Physics, or Chemistry, or Biology, or something. Dad just couldn't cope. He turned to the bottle and crawled in. When he couldn't pay Race anymore, we knew it was the beginning of the end. Without a white-haired judo expert bodyguarding him, he had no protection from his enemies. What a way to go! Torn apart by Komodo dragons. Dad really should have taken those judo lessons more seriously.
Race is in a nursing home now. Talking and talking and talking about how he used to fly that jet. That and how he's going to kick those Komodo dragons' asses one day. And talks and talks and talks. I don't visit all that much.
Bandit. Poor Bandit. He never could figure out that when we heard that slow building brass fanfare, that meant danger. Sweet little guy got eaten by an anaconda. I still miss him.
Hadji went back to India to star in Bollywood musicals. I just saw his latest, "Sim Sim Salabim." I thought it dragged a bit.
And me? All I inherited from Dad were two broken jetpacks and a couple gallons of rotgut. I sit at this desk and wait for the phone to ring. I'm trying to make a living as a private eye. It's going slow.
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