D.J. watched the abstract patterns of light and dark flash by outside the van's window as they barreled along I-10 in the dead of night. Larry was sipping a lukewarm Mountain Dew, not tasting it, that frown of concentration etched into his forehead like a Klingon's skull crest. Burt's Geek mix was playing, albeit much lower, as he and Turk snored fitfully in the back, wedged in between all of their heist gear.

Larry grunted and dropped the empty can into a plastic sack laced between the two front seats. "You nervous?" he said to D.J.

"No," D.J. lied. "Just tired. A little curious."

Larry nodded. "It's like that before a job, you know."

"No, I don't. How do you know it?"

"Internet," said Larry.

"Oh, right," said D.J. Sensing that Larry was about to impart more criminal wisdom, he tried some of his mental judo. "Say, whatever happened to that girl you were seeing? In San Cib?"

He had expected a number of reactions from Larry, but not embarrassment. "Holly?" he said, knowing full well that's who D.J. meant. "She, uh, we...you know, it was a long distance thing. Those never work out."

"How would you know?" asked D.J. "I mean, I'm not as desperate as Terkington back there, but if someone that fine, and that into geeky stuff, were interested in dating me long distance, well, just call me Mister Fantastic, you know what I mean?"

Larry chuckled. "Yeah, well, it was sort of..." He trailed off. How much should he tell D.J.? He briefly ran back through his association with him, searching for instances of betrayal, malicious intent, or insensitivity. "Can I trust you with something?"

"Sure," said D.J., who immediately grimaced. "Oh god, you didn't get her pregnant, did you?"

"What? No!" The van almost swerved, as agitated as Larry. "What kind of a guy do you think I am?"

"Sorry," said D.J. "It was just a guess. A bad guess." He turned to face Larry in the bucket seat. "Yes, of course you can trust me with a secret."

"Well, it's not a secret, per se, but I don't really want anyone else knowing about it."

D.J. didn't argue that was precisely what a secret was. He jerked a thumb back at the sleeping pair. "You mean, those two."

Larry nodded. "Yeah, them."

"Okay, spill."

Larry lifted up his shirt. "Look."

Confused, D.J. leaned over and saw a slightly paunchy stomach with no hair in the greenish glow of the dashboard lights. What was he supposed to see, he wondered? A tattoo?

"Notice anything missing?"

D.J. looked again. Hair? What? "Um...no."

"The belly button," said Larry quietly. "It's gone."

D.J. looked up, horrified. "What happened?" He put one hand on the door handle in the off-chance that Larry's next words were, "I'm not one of you."

"Remember MagicCon last year?"

"How could I ever forget it?" D.J. said.

Larry took a deep breath. "Well, it sorta happened there. With, you know, Stercutus."

D.J. took a deep breath. He'd heard this bullshit before; he didn't believe it then, and he didn't believe it now. "Look, if you don't want to tell me..."

"Deej, think really hard for a minute, okay?" Larry leaned forward, concentrating on the road, and choosing his words carefully. "Remember how fat I was? And then all at once, it was different, right?"

"Yeah," said D.J. His head hurt when he thought too hard about that weekend. His Green Guy comics turning to kiddie funny books...that weird fight in the lobby, with the water coming from the floor...

"Okay, well, something happened to me, right? All at once. Call it whatever. Maybe a mutation, even. But my metabolism kicked in, and I burned all of this fat off so fast that my skin couldn't adjust. So, the doctors had to do a...tummy tuck."

D.J. stared at his friend. So, that was it. It made perfect sense, now. MagicCon was just an excuse. A ruse. Larry, instead of going to the convention, snuck away and got liposuctioned and tummy tucked. But Larry's shame in being unable to admit to his friends that he wanted a change forced him to invent this Stercutus story. No wonder Larry had acted so weird at the hotel! He was still crashing on local anesthetic and who knows what else they gave him. D.J. looked at Larry, his eyes on the road, trying to appear brave as he bared his secret to him. D.J. had no idea that Larry was so...complex.

"That's why me and Holly didn't last long. I couldn't, you know, be with her. I mean, look at me. I'm a freak."

D.J. put his hand on Larry's shoulder. "Naw, man. You're one of the most normal people I know. Really, Lar, it's cool. I won't say anything. I just want you to know, it took a lot of guts to do what you did."

Thinking D.J. was still talking about dating and breaking up with a girl because of a physical abnormality, he muttered, "Yeah, well, it may well be my biggest regret."

Thinking Larry was still talking about his fictitious outpatient procedure, D.J. blanched and said, "No, Larry, it was a good thing. Look at you now! You're not the man you were. In a good way. Think about that, man."

Larry glanced at D.J. and realized what he meant. No attachments, like professionals. Nothing to get in the way of the job. This is how men of action were. Nomadic. Unreachable. "Yeah, Deej, you may be right, at that."

Satisfied that each had learned something about the other, they settled back into the mutual silence that only men can maintain, and didn't speak for over an hour.