March 3, 1984.
Many days of penciling comics had passed and this Saturday is expected by Alexander to not be anything different. It is just a school-free day that he has for himself.
After a bath and having breakfast, Alexander was getting ready to fill up issue 25 with all the relevant and clashing parties chasing after the seven completed Dragonballs.
Except that everything went off track as Sullivan suddenly asked for them to take a trip.
"Where are we going, grandpa?" This was all Alexander could say from the sudden change of plans.
"Trust me. If you bring all of your finished works, then you could more or less know where we are headed for." Sullivan gave a smile while Alexander's eyes lit up from those clues.
He hurriedly went for his room as his package is waiting to be brought along.
This time, Alexander wasn't going to take a folder with all his papers clipped inside it as 576 pages are going to look bloated. The paper's integrity could also be compromised and damaged from the cramming.
Instead, 24 folders were stacked on top of each other with each of them holding 24 pages of comic arts and representing 24 issues that have been penciled but not yet finished.
Alexander had to place them in a box so that he could take all of them to the car from his room in one trip.
Even Alexander himself felt that he had gone superhuman from all those pages of work he had done.
Much less Sullivan who oversaw some of his progress for the past days and was gulping down water to downplay his still ever-present shock.
The old man was now afraid that his grandson would transfer all those crazy productivity and creativity to movie-worthy stories.
Fortunately, he had already prepared something that would help distract Alexander's attention towards. If comic books can do it, then comic books it is.
The house was locked down as the Creed duo headed off to the place that would help solve Sullivan's problems.
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"Alex, it is important for you to know that this grandpa of yours has failed you and you should ready yourself for the place we are going to head towards."
Sullivan said with elderly ominosity as he added. "There is a secret government facility that locks down geniuses and grooms them to become weaponized assets of the country. Grandpa is going to make a fortune from serving you up as one of those recruits."
Alexander only shrugged after giving a dry chuckle. "Very funny, grandpa. Why don't we head to area 52 while we're at it?"
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Sullivan could only chuckle back as his grandson was now becoming immune to his trickery. "It was good times when you'd grumble whenever you'd be tricked by me."
Alexander had nothing to reply as his eyes were on the windows to try and remember some landmarks.
Who could tell if his scheming grandpa of his is really scheming for him to be sent to one of those mutant facilities?
He could still distinctly remember the coin multiplying trick when he was a child.
When Sullivan proposed that he could make dollar coin multiply into three, toddler Alex thought that he could expose the trick with a coin's special embedded number.
It turned out that toddler him was still wowed as the three coins were exactly the same from numbers to even the scratches and dents.
From then on, Sullivan was rich in his eyes because of his ability to triplicate money.
It was only when he became teen Alex that he knew the truth that his grandfather would go to great lengths just to mess with him and look cool doing it.
He was pretty sure that recreating American currency was a crime but that was all inconsequential for a magic trick. Of course, the original coin was also bogus but it still constitutes some form of rule-breaking nonetheless.
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Their car eventually stopped at a warehouse-type of building and Alexander stepped out to survey what's what. His grandfather's government joke is still fresh and he needed to be ready from the craziness.
Fortunately, his worries were eased as he saw a familiar old man whom he remembers is a good friend of his grandpa.
Alexander also remembers a detail of this old man's failed venture and connecting it with his comic book plans achieved some degree of connectivity, so everything checks out.
He trailed behind Sullivan while carrying the box of penciled art that would finally find its true completion.
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"How's business treating you, Edward?" Sullivan asked as he shook the hands of the waiting old man while his accent and manner of speaking was much more pronounced than usual.
"If it was any good, then I wouldn't be transferring it to you, wouldn't I?" Edward responded with a British accent that explains the duo's fondness for each other.
The old British man also didn't forget to greet the tiny tag along. "Is this the little Alex? I'd say he's more dashing than you could ever hope to be, Sullivan. He must take after the late Oscar. Bless his soul."
"I'm the grandfather so whatever dashingness he has, obviously takes after me." Sullivan emphasized while stroking his chin with a whitened old man's stubble.
"If you say so." Old Edward didn't want to go on with the old man's vanity and just appeased. "Let's get on to business then, shall we?"
"I've already paid so there's no business needed, just need you to be a tour guide, Edward." Sullivan chuckled as he said so to rib at his old friend.
Old Edward could only shrug at the old man's childishness. "I'll give you a tour to my failed animation venture then. I do hope you could make some progress with it. These artists aren't exactly as money-printing as I'd thought they'd be."
The tour went on with the two British old men chatting for old time's sake.
Alexander just kept quiet and listened on. Everything checks out as his trusty memory records it to be.
He remembered Old Edward Williams at a British business party at some point in his teens and he could still recount the old man blurting about how money-burning animation and cartoons could be.
Apparently, he owned a company called Troy-jan Animation Studio and had to sell it off for the reasons that he doesn't fail to reiterate to every business-minded people he knows.
Old Williams had dreams of becoming the next Walt Disney but he failed with that pursuit.
Who would've thought that instead of selling it off to somebody else, his grandfather would snag it when the price is still cheap and with a friendship discount?
"An animation studio isn't exactly suited but it could still be refitted to my exact needs." This was what Alexander inaudibly whispered to himself while his hands gripped tighter on the box at hand.
Perfecting these incomplete stories into their full potentials is close at hand. Animators aren't exactly the perfect people to do it but he has the feeling that they might just be even more necessary than he expects them to be.
This day is already out of his expectations after all.