"Good morning sir, how are you today."        "This is a restricted area, how did..."         "Good, good, glad to hear it son. Allow me to introduce myself, name's Roger, Roger Finbek. My card," Roger quickly thrust his hand from his coat towards the uniformed man.         The man in the uniform reacted instinctively, reaching for his side arm, but before he could get to it, Roger deftly placed the business card in the front pocket of the man's uniform and grabbed his hand, giving it a hearty and cheerful hand shake.         "My my son, that’s quite a grip. Pleased, I say, pleased to make your acquaintance. Well like I was saying, name's Roger Finbek, that Finbek with a K, the ol' boys on the defensive line used to call me Roger Dodger," Roger laughed, "heh, yep, but you can call me Roger, just plain Roger. Say now, with a grip like that, I bet you've seen a football feld or two in your day. Am I right? Well sure, a strong lad such as yourself, you must have been the pride of the team, yes-sir-re." Roger gave the man a wink and nudged him with the tweed elbow of his jacket, "Pride of the team, and pride of the cheerleaders, am I right, he hehe."         The uniformed man finally regained his composure. "I said, this is a restricted are ..."         "Now now son, you'll have to forgive ol' Roger, my hearing ain't what it used to be. Be a gentleman and take off that helmet. My my, thats quite a contraption, all those hoses and wires, why you'd think you were going off to outer space or something with a get-up like that. You know my father had a rig just like that; brought it back from France after the war, ghastly business that. He used to..."         The uniformed man gave in and removed his head piece and respirator. "I said, ..."         "Ahh, Roger, Roger Finbek"         "Mr. Finb ..."         "Just Roger son, Roger will do quite nicely, thank you."         "Roger ... this is a restricted area, I'm going to have to ask you ..."         "You see, thats much better. Now as I was saying. I come to you today as a an official sales representative of the Worston Brothers United Manufacturing Company. Worsten Brothers is THE prime manufacturer and supplier of the worlds finest metal, plastic, ceramic, and composite materials manufacturing equipment and products since 1925. But I'm sure you are already familiar with our world renowned product line, isn't that right?"         "... well I ..."         "Of course you are. Well in any case, I am here today with fantastic news. Worsten Consumer Products, a fully owned and licensed subsidiary of the Worsten Brothers Manufacturing Company Holdings Limited, had decided to offer a fantastic opportunity to allow our loyal customer to purchase top quality Worsten Brothers merchandise directly from the company. Now this offer is only being extended to a select few individual customers, and I'm happy to report that this morning as we were checking the rolls ..." Roger fumbled through the pages of his clipboard, "that umm ... ahh, The Consortium of Affiliated Evil was right at the top of the list."         "Look, this is a millitar ... a factory, factory, you can't just come up to the door. How did you even get here? This building is 45 miles from the main road?"         "Never mind that my lad ..."         "Yes, but what about the guard at the gate? How did you ..."         "Ahh, you must mean Mr. Williams and Mr. Harling. Two fine gentleman, yes-sir-re. Did you know Mr. William's wife just had twins. From the pictures they look like 2 strong boys."         The uniformed man reached for his weapon again, and again Robert thrust out his own hand, this time passing the uniformed man a thick glossy catalog from his carrying case.         "Yes, you see, right here on page 22, SBS-2: Side-By-Side Twin Jogging Stroller. Boy you should have seen his face. Said he's been looking for one all over town but, well, living out here in the middle of nowhere, no thats just not easy on a family man you know. But that's where I come in my friend, your friendly neighborhood Worsten man. Say, you look like a family man to me Mr. ... ahh ... well now, how rude of me. I haven't even learned your name yet. Page one line two of the sales manual my boy, right after the hearty handshake, right before the business card. So, to whom am I speaking this fine afternoon?"         "Umm," the uniformed man cleared his throat and stood at attention, "Henchman Number 485-L."         "No no no son, now Williams gave me that same line. I can't be writing 425-whatever ..."         "485-L"         "I can't be writing that on my order forms, the boys back at the head office will laugh me out the door. Now you must have a name, everyones got a name."         "Regulation A7-22b: All henchmen are assigned a personnel number, each henchmen will be addressed by their personnel number at all times. Henchmen are required to divest of all personal identifying articles and customs during duty hours ..."         "Fine fine," Roger laughed, "have it your way. For all I know the boys back at the office put you up to this. So Mr. 485-L, is there a Mrs. 485? Maybe some little lower-case L's running around?"         The uniformed man tried hard to maintain a professional composure, but Roger was not about to back down. He had dealt with far colder customers than this.         "Come now, I know you've got some pictures of that lovely wife and kids in one of those pockets. Tell ya what, I'll go first." Roger reached into his coat and pulled out a well worn leather wallet fat with pictures. The uniformed man by this time had given up on reaching for his gun, instead hoping Roger was about to shoot him, but when he saw the wallet his disappointment was evident. "Now I know what your thinking," said Roger, "you were hoping to see kids, well so was I, but I tell you what, what I'm missing in children I more than make up for in cats."         "This one here is Annabel, and the woman, that's my first wife Sue. Annabel and Sue never did get along, though you wouldn't know it from this picture, but just seconds after the shutter went off, BAM, POW, if Annabel didn't take off like a shot. Knocked over Sue's tea and 4 potted plants."         "Ahh, and this one," Roger laughed to himself, "that there is Simon, Spots, Newton, and the black one on the end is Katze, thats German for cat. That one is actually the little neighbor girl's. She was studying German at the university."