#toby danger

The interior of the jet was no ordinary passenger cabin—it was part luxury transport, part state-of-the-art mobile laboratory. Shelves along the walls housed bubbling vials, humming machines, and precisely stacked bundles of radiation gloves. A glowing container labeled "DO NOT JOSTLE" jostled dangerously as turbulence shook the plane.

Sandra peered out the window. "I think we're losing altitude."

Toby looked up from the spinning gyroscope he'd been poking with a pencil. "Gee, Pop, what's going on?"

Dr. Danger looked up from his book. "I better go check with Dash."

He walked towards the cockpit, bracing himself as the plane shook. The door to the cockpit swung open, releasing a small cloud of smoke.

Dr. Danger stepped in, coughing. "Dash, what's—"

Dash frantically pointed at a panel of blinking lights. "That one is flashing red!" He jabbed a finger at a gauge. "And that one is spinning funny!"

Dr. Danger narrowed his eyes at the controls. "That one's a clock, Dash."