Fortunately, I was able to get my hands on some early issues of “Wayne Tracker: Legends of the Caped Crusader” and fill in this gap. No wonder he won’t take journalists with him on foreign junkets. They might see him don the cowl.
Rex Tillerson sat at his desk at ExxonMobil headquarters, waiting for the staff to leave. The beacon lit up the sky (the beacon was an oil derrick that had caught fire, but he still felt that it was summoning him personally). By day, he was an Exxon executive. But by night, he was — Wayne Tracker, the only man who knew the truth about climate change. And the planet was calling him.
“When people say that climate change has a human cause, they have no idea,” Wayne Tracker said.
His loyal butler, Halliburton, was standing by ready for action. He nodded, sympathetically. “Too true, Master Wayne.”
“What is it this time?” Wayne asked.
“They’re at the hole in the ozone layer, Master Wayne,” Halliburton said. “They’re trying to ENLARGE it — and blame us.”
Wayne Tracker’s hands shook with rage. “Those monsters.” Wayne Tracker donned his suit and climbed into the Exxonmobile.
There was nothing these scientists had not tried. He remembered months ago, how he had caught them sneaking out to melt the polar ice caps by night so that, when they blamed climate change on human activity, they would not technically be lying.
He had stopped the scientists before, as they spilled oil into precious habitats and flew jets around and around the Earth to destroy its atmosphere. He knew what they were capable of.
They were always disguising themselves as polar bears and tricking journalists with their tales of woe and extinction, when in reality there was no such thing as a polar bear and never had been.
They had also spent decades training birds to fly into windmills and generally sabotaging green technologies. Some men just wanted to watch the world burn, and these scientists were some of those men.
“Hurry,” Wayne Tracker said.
Beneath his cowl, his face looked the same as Rex Tillerson’s. (Sometimes he wondered if he were not, in fact, the boring alter ego of Rex Tillerson, whose name also sounded as though it had been generated by a Macho Name Generator and who got to meet with Russian oligarchs and receive awards from them.)
Wayne Tracker’s tracker was buzzing: They were everywhere! Some of them had snuck into university facilities and were distorting the temperature readings. They were authoring papers and they had tied up a peer and were forcing him to review them. How could one man possibly stop all this?
Wayne Tracker catapulted into the laboratory where they were cooking the data. He released all the data points into the wind so that they could harm no one else. He roundhouse-kicked the charts back into a proper shape.
A little boy who had just arrived to sue the EPA stared at him in awe. “Who are you?” he asked. “I was trying to stop the EPA by suing them, but — Mister, you’re onto something bigger.”
“I’m Wayne Tracker,” said Wayne Tracker. “What’s your name, son?”
Wayne Tracker smiled and waved as the fumes of great volumes of oil bore him aloft. “I foresee great things in your future!”
“Have you assessed the risks posed by continued dependence on fossil fuels?” a shareholder asked Exxon CEO Rex Tillerson, who was leaning his head heavily on his hand and trying not to fall asleep. “Are you being open about them?”
“I haven’t,” Rex Tillerson mumbled. “But — Wayne Tracker has.”
Wayne Tracker is not the hero we need right now, but he is definitely the hero we deserve.
Tune in next week for his group adventures with Carlos Danger and John Barron!