Time often sheds light on curious circumstances.

Something we thought was a crazy miscalculation may, in fact, turn out to be the key component to the winning play.

Telly looked over his shoulder again.

“Would you stop that?” Tumbler snapped, banging the metal surface with his wrench. “TGII help me, if you don’t stay focused, we’ll never get this done in time!”

The tall gnome skulked and tightened the next bolt. “Sorry. I’m just…nervous. We didn’t get the permission ta do this!”

The old gnome sighed, “I know, kiddo. I’m sorry too. Shouldn’t be snappin’ atcha like that.” He glanced around them, patting the safety harness attached to the ladder. “It is a bit creepy, being exposed like this.” It also didn’t help to have their voices sucked up in the vastness of the Trench Stadium. For nearly two hours they’d been rerouting the system wires of a discarded INERTIA S.L.A.G.. It felt weird, breaking into the company’s Trench pit, not to mention uncomfortable. “The old man said it was ok,” he added, “and he did have a security pass to get us in here.”

“He also had a way into the Citadel, if you remember,” Freak grumbled. “For all we know, the Centurions are on their way right now!” He pushed a dolly laden with scrap metal closer to the machine. “Cause if that wizard’s wrong, we’re likely to get shot at!”

“Oh relax,” Nibbles giggled, yanking out another wire, “he may be crazy, but you have to give him credit—he’s delivered on every promise so far.”

The chubby gnome leaned over the metal and wiped his brow with a stained glove. “Which is making me more nervous, not less, Nib. How is he doing it?” His eyes grew wide as his voice dropped to a near whisper, “He’s not even a gnome! How can he have this much influence and pull in a foreign land? We’re working in the Trench Stadium, just like we needed, on a competition grade S.L.A.G….and no one’s come to arrest us yet? But LOOK!” He pointed around the rim of the stadium. Every ten feet, an armored camera was mounted to the wall. Each one of them were pointed at the TNT crew. “Don’t tell me somebody ain’t watching.”

“So?” she teased him.

“SO WHY HAVEN’T WE BEEN ARRESTED YET?” he choked, rattling the dolly violently, his face flushing beet red. Huffing heavily, he let his head drop forward with a dull BANG against the metal.

“I can arrange it if it means that much to you,” Chuck said calmly. He stepped into the light of the open stadium from the shadows of the private S.L.A.G. pit behind them. “You’re going to blow a brain cell if you’re not careful, young man.” He smirked, “Sorry. I meant gnome.” Lili and the Shrub twins stood quietly in the pit doorway. Dressed in a glistening black suit, Chucks beard was in a Kutollum braid with silver metal accents, which rested heavily on his chest. He glanced up at the machine under construction. “Looking good!”

“Looking illegal is more like it,” Freak gasped, trying to catch his breath, “And what are you doing now?”

“Waiting for us, I’m assuming,” called a voice from the darkness of the pit. The scuttle of many feet resonated from the cement chamber, growing more dull as they reached the light of the stadium. “And I think we need more lights on, before someone hurts themselves.”

Recognized by the countless posters about Clockworks, the Brothers Trench strode into the light. The TNT crew froze in place, all eyes upon the two most famous S.L.A.G. pilots of all time. Ernie and Burton Trench—mechanics, fabricators, ex-convicts and creators of the Trench Wars. Both were dressed in brown, worn, work overalls and stained leather jackets. They were immediately followed out by three identical midgets in black suits, white shirts, paisley silk ties and dark horn-rimmed glasses.

Chuck stepped over and shook Burton’s hand firmly, then Ernie’s. “Morning boys. I’m assuming we have a deal?”

Ernie scratched the wild patch of hair on top of his near-pointed head and laughed openly. “We’d be fools not to take it, Mr. Smith. Not like we had much of a choice, but we’re not the ones in charge anymore, thanks to you.”

Freak blinked hard once. Then a second time. “What’s he talking about?” Then weakly, his voice trembling, “What have you done now?”

“What have I done?” Chuck gasped, offended, “Why I’ve kept my word, you little, hyperventilating…”

Lili dashed past the wizard and slid her arm through the mechanic’s. “You look like you could use a nice, peaceful walk.” She winked at Nibbles, who immediately dropped her wrench and hopped to the ground. “Enjoy the company of two lovely ladies?”

“That’s right, hunko,” Nibbles added, catching on, “It’s high time someone pointed out how awesome you are.”

“I am?” he muttered, befuddled. He looked between the two girls, confused. “I-I’ve never been…awesome before.”

“Of course you have,” Lili beamed, batting her eyes. “In fact, when we get back, there will be a wonderful gift waiting for you, just to prove how awesome you are.”

Lost in the moment, Freak didn’t resist. “I hope it’s pizza,” he mumbled to himself. “Or pickled herring.” The thought made his face light up, “That’s always nice—pickled fish.”

The girls patted his arms, leading him away with soothing whispers of how under appreciated he was through the Trench competitions and his heroic participation in the Citadel raid.

Telly watched the three walk off for a lap around the open arena and frowned. “How come I don’t get fawned over like that?” he mumbled.

Tumbler snorted, “Cause yer ugly, I keep telling ya. Freak is chubby and cute, like a bear. I’m old an senile, so I don’t know no better, but you? Yer just ugly without an excuse. So you better find a stupid girl.”

“He’s not ugly,” frowned Buffy, beaming up at the mechanic. “I love a tall gnome myself.”

“Or blind,” Tumbler muttered to himself.

Chuck nodded at the midget triplets, “I thought cloning children was illegal?”

Burton laughed, “Our lawyers. The BBC.”

“BBC?”

“Briney, Bardsley and Clarence. Second biggest law firm in Clockworks.”

Chuck grinned, “Not bad, but I use Stilence, Mish, Trition & Mise myself.”

One of the lawyers gulped loudly.

Ernie shook his head, “The four horseman of law? How the TGII did you manage that? We’ve tried to get on their client list for years—but their office said they don’t take on new clients for…well, ever.”

“Sounds about right,” Chuck replied nonchalant. He opened his jacket, briefly tugged at an inside pocket. He wrinkled his nose.

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. “You’re family’s been with the firm for generations, then, huh?”

“Oh no, no,” the wizard shook his head, absentmindedly, searching another pocket, “just me. Do you have the agreement ready?” He looked up awkwardly, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do need to hurry here, boys. Time, you see—not much of it. I’d like to conclude this meeting and get on with work if you don’t mind.” He walked over to one of the S.L.A.G.s feet, whipped out a handkerchief and dusted the metal surface. “I’ll sign over here. Now, anyone have a pen?”

Ernie nudged his brother forward.

“Oh. Yeah,” Burton grunted, “Right. Pen?” He shot his legal team a fiery glare.

The midget lawyers did a comical dance around them—papers popped out from glistening black suitcases, while golden pens were thrust into Chucks face.

“We listed all of the requests you made right…here,” said one lawyer, tapping the line lightly with a chubby finger.

“The transfer of control?”

“To Philburt Bellows, overseen by a rotating board of twenty four annually elected factory workers,” said the second lawyer. “And yes, we included the clause that the factory workers can only be elected by the factory workers and Mr. Bellow’s has no actual voting power at any time.”

Chuck nodded, scanning the list. “Excellent. What about the mechanical contracts?” He paused to look up at the Brothers Trench.

Ernie nodded, “Exclusive to Freak and the TNT Crew.”

“What?!” Tumbler blurted out, nearly falling off the ladder. “We have…a contract? With the Trench Brothers?”

The wizard shook his head. “You have all the contracts. He did say exclusive, young man.”

“I don’t believe it!” the welder gasped.

“I know,” Telly whispered, astounded, “he actually called you young.”

“Well you better believe it,” Ernie replied firmly, “because the contract obligation starts one week from the moment this old guy signs the papers. And that’s Brother’s Trench,” he added, “not the other way ‘round.”

Telly beamed, “I got a job again! I can call my momma and tell her I have a respectable job again!”

“Hmmmm,” Buffy grinned, eyeing the mechanic, “A tall, handsome gnome, with a job.”

“The only hitch we had, Mr. Smith, was the pilot clause.” Ernie scratched his head and shrugged. “We can’t force a pilot to take the risk you’re asking. S.L.A.G.s are made to hover and even glide, but they don’t technically fly.”

The wizard frowned, “Thats’ not good enough.”

Burton shrugged, “This ain’t about being difficult. I don’t know how we can do it in the time frame you’re asking, anyway. It’s just not possible.”

“Yes it is,” Freak said boldly. Lili and Nibbles were still holding onto his arms as they strode up to the group. The walk had apparently done him a world of good, because he was breathing easily, the natural color was back in his face and a smile had even formed. “I’m serious,” he said firmly, “Get me the parts and the tools and I can build you what you need.”

Chuck rocked back and forth on his heels, considering. “The question is, can you do it in 48 hours?”

For a moment, Freak hesitated. He studied the faces of his team. Nibbles leaned against the leg of the S.L.A.G., a smug look of confidence on her face as she popped a bubble. Tumbler wiped the grease from his hands on a dirty rag, exchanging one stain for another, while Telly started laughing out loud. They’d always been an unlikely team—but they were the best group of talent in the industry. They’d never missed a completion date…and they’d had some unique jobs before. Of course they could.

The chubby gnome took a wide stance and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, we can.”

With the scribble of a pen, Chuck tossed the contracts to the lawyers. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

All three lawyers looked at the wizard in dismay. “Don’t you want to read the fine print?” asked the third midget.

“Naw,” Chuck sighed, waving the comment away, “I hate legalese.”

“But, how do you know we didn’t place a hidden clause in there, or took advantage of the conditions?”

Dropping his head, so his wild brows cast heavy shadows over his eyes, he said evenly, “Because, boys, I’ve given the Brothers here, the best position they ever had as a public company. They get paid more, so you blood-sucking leeches get paid more. The best news is, I get what I want. So it looks to me like everyone’s happy.”

The wrinkles around his eyes folded together, creating tiny slits to peer through. “So if there’s any hiccup in this contract—or I think you’ve tried to manipulate me, I will make a call to Stilence, Mish, Trition & Mise. Their client will then inform them that you three, from Briney, Bardsley and Clarence, have dealt deceptively with me.” Both sides of his mustache curled up towards his ears in a sly grin. “That is not a word they take lightly, so you boys know.”

Lips quivered and all three gulped in perfect unison.

“Now, I don’t know the legal terms to use here, so I’ll just be blunt. They don’t call Stilence, Mish, Trition & Mise the apocalypse for nothing. You will be stomped out of existence, like a bad habit,” the grin grew ever wider, “because that is precisely what I shall request them to do.”

His expression was devoid of even the faintest hint of mercy.

“They never lose,” he said just above a whisper. Then leaning in, he added, “E-ver.”

In a wild flurry of papers, hand-stitched suits and silk ties, the midgets fumbled and nearly fell over one another.

“Yes sir! We’ll…take care of everything!”

“Absolutely. Nothing to worry about. Thank you, sir!”

“Have a wonderful day, sir!”

“We’ll have the contracts copied and delivered by currier,” they hollered together as they fled, “this afternoon!”

Burton and Ernie laughed boisterously as their legal team hightailed it out of the stadium, sprinting for the furthest staircase leading up into the stands Twice a briefcase was dropped, papers exploding in their feet, followed by panic and embarrassment.

“I would have paid good money to see that,” Burton chuckled.

The wizard snorted. “You just did.”

Telly and Tumbler shimmied down the ladder to join the conversation. The tall mechanic scratched the stubble on his face, leaving a grease streak across his cheek. “Wow, Chuck—you’d really trash ‘em just for messing with you?”

“Of course not!” he said aghast. But the proclamation of innocence was quickly followed by a wink.“Unless I don’t get copies by the closing of business today.”

“Let me get this straight,” Tumbler spat, “You got these two fellows here to give you a contract—for Freak, to do all their mechanical labor?”

“Well, no. It’s not that simple,” Ernie cut in. “We don’t actually own W.E.T. INC anymore.”

“What?” Nibbles burst out, choking on her gum.

“When news of the Gnolaum hit the market, our stock dropped.” Ernie shook his head in disbelief, “Dropped through the floor would be puttin’ it lightly. We were ripe for a takeover.”

“Which is exactly what happened,” Burton cursed. “Our business was snatched right out from under us within days! We were bought and cancelled the same day. Trench Wars was dead and G.E.A.R.S. immediately ceased production.”

Nibbles snorted, “Who in their right mind would want to kill the hottest spot on television?”

“I had the buying tracked,” Chuck said, patting his pockets, “It was one group, snatching up all the shares at fraction of the value. A shell corporation, owned by the Board of Directors of WHRN.”

“But they air the games,” Freak said, confused. “Why would they jeopardize their biggest show?”

“Because they don’t own the franchise.” Chuck pulled a long pipe from his suit coat pocket and placed it in his mouth. Wiggled his fingers, a match appeared. “They get paid for air time, but the giant bulk of the money, including the sponsors, went to the Trench boys.”

Lili stared at him, shocked. “How do you know all this? You’ve been with us all this time.”

With a flick of his thumbnail, the match sparked to life. He glanced up at her and offered only a wink.

Burton spun around and faced the wizard directly. “Come to think of it, we never did understand how you snatched those shares for yourself? WHRN is big, but there was more than a billion credits in shares, grabbed overnight. The Board of Directors couldn’t possibly have that much discretionary income to put this into play. They’d have to borrow from the banks! How could one gnome possibly do it?”

Chuck puffed casually on his pipe, then blew out the match. “Leverage.”

“What are you talking about?” Freak snorted, “What leverage?” Glancing at the Brothers Trench, the mechanic thought better about revealing the truth of the human wizard. “How could you possibly have any leverage against WHRN?”

With the grin of a fox, Chuck tapped the end of his nose. “Like I said before, Stilence, Mish, Trition & Mise don’t lose. Ever. So I gave them a call and told them what I needed. It’s not always what you know, but who you know.” He smirked, considering himself quite clever. “You know?”

“Is anyone following this wrinkled prunes banter?” growled Tumbler.

Nibbles and Lili laughed.

Sighing, Chuck threw his head back and gently blew smoke into the air. It rolled upward, twisting and rolling into the shape of a serpent. Throwing its head back, it spread paper thin wings and flew off. “The trade was illegal. Stilence, Mish, Trition & Mise also have astounding pull with the banks. When you put the two together, the Board of Directors at WHRN were guilty of more than just this takeover. There’s a reason they’re the largest media monopoly in the city. After having their evil ways pointed out to them, they were willing to sell their shares at a discount and resign their positions.” He couldn’t stop from laughing to himself. “Call it an early retirement, letting them side-step criminal charges and prison time.”

“Holy smokes,” Telly chuckled, “You blackmailed the guys at WHRN?”

The wizard snapped his head up, gasping. “That’s such a nasty word! I would never do such a…” He shrugged and stuck the pipe back in his mouth. “Ok, maybe I would.” The eyes of the group stuck to him like glue. “Oh alRIGHT! I DID blackmailed them…and…” he broke off.

“And what?” Lili prodded.

Head bobbing from side to side, “I might have taken over WHRN in the process.”

There wasn’t a closed mouth in the stadium.

Freak stood erect, in complete shock. His eyes narrowed to slits. “I was wrong to call you crazy…”

Chuck pulled the pipe from his mouth. He turned slightly, his shoulders and face muscles tensing. Eyes darting about the group, he silently mouthed, sorry.

Arms flew into the air as Freaks pudgy cheeks rolled up and thin lips revealed a perfect pair of straight, white teeth. “You…are…SO COOL!”

The wizards arms dropped to his side. His shoulders went limp. “I am?”

Everyone burst into hysterical laughter.

“And all you want is a custom S.L.A.G. in 48 hours?” The mechanic chuckled, looking up at the work already been done.

“A custom, flying, S.L.A.G. in 48 hours.”

Lili stepped up to the wizards side. She placed a comforting hand on his arm, which he gratefully patted. “Why 48 hours?” she asked.

His expression instantly changed as he looked back at her. There was genuine worry behind his words. “Because I think that’s how long we have until Dax’s execution. They want an audience. The whole of Clockworks to watch my boy being put on a chopping block, but I pulled the plug. Only for 48 hours though. We told the Presidential Administration that WHRN has serious technical difficulties.”

Burton gasped for breath, still laughing, “And they believed you?”

“Well, WHRN is having technical difficulties right now.” He shrugged, “Because I sent everyone home on paid leave for the next 48 hours, compliments of the Board of Directors.”

The laughter started all over again.

“I have a skeleton crew playing reruns of My 8 Daughters while we supposedly revamp the program schedule. So that gives us two days only. After that, who knows. ” He wrapped an arm around Lili’s shoulder and pulled her closer with a squeeze. “So time is ticking, my dear.”

Freak clapped his hands together. “Then I have an idea for the S.L.A.G..”

The Brothers Trench nodded to one another.

Ernie placed a firm hand on the wizards shoulder, turning him around.

“We may have an idea for your pilot.”