When Tweak next awoke, Dashi and Kwazii were looking down nervously.

"Tweaky? You okay?" the former asked in a concerned tone. 

"Yeah... I'm okay. But... where are we?" 

The Captain sighed.

"It appears we're in another of those fan-mail things. More questions, I suppose."

The crew groaned simultaneously. The last two times they had been asked to do something like this, nobody's secrets were safe...

The room was simple, with a pleasant blue wallpaper and a nice rug over floorboards. Adorning the walls appeared to be framed manuscripts, hand-written texts and the odd page of sheet music.

"This guy's a bit weird," muttered Kwazii, before receiving a reprimanding glance from the Captain.

They were all seated on black plastic chairs, the type you could hire out in bulk. The only exception was a spinney office chair, made with hard wood. Various bean bags littered the floor.

"Why can't we sit on those," complained Tweak. "I'm not sitting on these flimsy chairs."

She tried to get up, but as soon as she stood, it felt like all the water in the ocean was pressing her back into the chair. Again and again, she was pushed back into her seat.

"You're kidding me," she mumbled.

"Of course not," said the very same head-voice Tweak had heard earlier that night... or morning...

"I would never kid about."

The door to the room--a simple, oak-paneled board--opened smoothly and swung shut to reveal a new character.

He was tall, imposingly so. He was... what was he?

He had a long navy coat, thick black gloves, a simple white scarf and... was that a jar on his head?

Yes, it was. In fact, the jar was his head. And there was a fish swimming around in the jar.

"If you don't mind my asking," Captain Barnacles started. "Who are you? What's with the jar?"

"I'm a fish. I simply control this puppet body from my jar. As for my name, you can refer to me as Crash, or Gupcrash, or Gupdcrash if you must. Now, you all know the drill. People send in questions to the first page, and you answer them. 

Out of somewhere he pulled out a thick wad of paper. 

"As you can see, questions pile up quick," he grinned. Well, his voice implied grinning. They couldn't really see the fish's face.

"Yes, fans like you have a habit of asking too many," growled Kwazii.

He was met with a stare from Crash. A looooong stare from Crash.

"I am not a fan; I am a nerd. There is a distinct difference. Fans are the type of people to die with cuteness and kidnap Peso, we'll have a few come in later. Nerds like myself specialise in useless knowledge and like to back their claims with evidence."

A pointed look at Shellington and Dashi. Plenty of evidence.

"Anyways," Crash said, sitting back in his office chair. "I could give you a synopsis of your first fifty adventures as a team. But that's not the point. The fans and nerds will decide who to interrogate first. When the first load of questions comes in..."