Chapter Text
10:10 a.m.
The fresh morning air of Triberg greeted Ojo and Grandson Clock as they dashed through narrow cobblestone streets, weaving between curious tourists and towering half-timbered houses.
Until Grandson Clock put a hand on Ojo’s shoulder, stopping her in the middle of the town plaza.
“What is it?” asked Ojo, a little annoyed.
“Shh,” said Grandson Clock, putting a finger over his mouth. “Do you hear that?”
Ojo immediately focused her heightened hearing on the sounds around her. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Listen carefully.”
That’s when Ojo heard it. The ticking of a clock sounded faintly from a nearby house—then a wooden crashing sound echoed and the ticking stopped.
Her ears then focused on the neighboring house. A soft ticking sound emanated from it, only to stop with another wooden crash.
Then the ticking from the next house stopped the same exact way.
“Sounds like someone’s destroying every clock in Triberg,” concluded Ojo.
“You just read my mind,” affirmed Grandson Clock. “Let’s go catch ‘em.”
The heroes dashed to the end of the row of wooden houses. They tried bursting through the door—but it was locked.
“Not a problem,” said Ojo. She grabbed her iPad and opened the “layers” menu on Clee Painter. She deactivated a layer with a drawing of a door, and the real door disappeared.
“Whoa,” mouthed Grandson Clock in amazement.
The heroes burst into the house just in time to see a figure with a bowler hat and suit dashing out the back door.
“Ugh, we’re too late!” complained Ojo.
But Grandson Clock didn’t answer. He was more focused on what Samantha destroyed—a pendulum-powered wall clock in the living room.
“This was an antique 30-day Regulator from the 1890s,” he said sadly, holding up a piece of the clock’s octagonal frame. “There are less than a hundred surviving examples of this in the world.”
“Can’t you fix it?” asked Ojo.
“I’m afraid my power only allows me to reset clocks, not physically repair them.”
Ojo felt a flicker of inspiration. “Maybe I can try.”
She quickly sketched the clock on her iPad. The drawing shimmered, and the clock on the wall re-materialized, ticking as if it had never been destroyed.
Grandson Clock’s jaw dropped. “Ojo, yo—you’re amazing!”
She grinned. “Told you we make a great team.”
Grandson Clock observed the ticking clock for a few moments, checking the speed of its pendulum against his pocket watch.
There was no difference—but he was still worried.
“Ojo, look,” he said, pointing to the clock’s hands. “It’s already 10:14. According to your drawing, Samantha destroys the House of a Thousand Clocks at exactly 10:30!”
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Ojo. “We still have”—she counted on her fingers—“sixteen minutes.”
“The clock is on the other side of town! We can’t run there in time!”
“Not without thinking outside the box,” Ojo replied with a determined grin.
She swiftly opened a new canvas on her iPad and sketched a motorcycle with a sidecar.
“Hop on!” she shouted.
Grandson Clock didn’t hesitate. He leaped into the bike’s sidecar, gripping the front grill. Ojo gave him—then herself—helmets, then zipped away.
They rocketed down the streets of Triberg at furious speed, spooking both locals and tourists. Pine trees and shop awnings alike fluttered wildly in their wake.
“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” asked Grandson Clock, trying to be louder than the roar of the engine.
“Of course!” replied Ojo. “Where I come from, kids don’t just drive—they design vehicles!”
She dramatically tilted the bike’s handles, and the vehicle skidded to a stop in front of a huge cuckoo clock-shaped building with a sign reading “House of a Thousand Clocks.”
The heroes entered the building. The name didn’t lie—there were literally at least a thousand mechanical clocks all ticking in perfect harmony inside. Needless to say, Grandson Clock’s eyes widened, as if he were staring at heaven.
But of course, he knew that this paradise wouldn’t last forever.
He made a perfect imitation of a cuckoo call, calling the attention of all the tourists inside—obviously because it was 10:18, far from any time a clock should normally ring.
“Evacuate the building, everyone!” he shouted. “In exactly eleven minutes and forty-nine—forty-eight—forty-seven seconds, the place will be destroyed!”
Most of the shoppers ran in terror, but a few stayed behind.
“How are you so sure, Swiss boy?” asked a tall, balding man, who from the accent was obviously an American tourist.
“My friend Ojo here drew it,” said Grandson Clock, motioning to Ojo showing the drawing of the clock’s destruction on her tablet.
“So you’re saying your little drawings can tell the future?” teased the man’s wife.
“Yeah,” agreed Ojo. “That’s exactly my special power.”
The man huffed. “I don’t believe you.”
“What if I told you that a supervillain will come around that corner and smash every clock at 10:20?” said Ojo, showing the tourists a drawing that just materialized on the tablet.
“Wait, what?!” gasped Grandson Clock.
Before anyone could answer, a loud smash erupted from the very direction Ojo pointed to. Everyone turned to see Samantha Schnoozelnein swing around the corner, dramatically posing with her mallet.
“No more clocks, no more time, just more fun for Schnoozelnein!” sang Samantha, smashing every clock right in the face.
The tourists finally left, leaving Ojo and Grandson Clock to face the villain on their own.
“Ah, if it isn’t Grandson Clock,” said Samantha teasingly. “Who’ve you got this time? Your girlfriend?”
Ojo and Grandson Clock stared at each other awkwardly, obviously not knowing what to say.
“I’m his partner,” said Ojo. “In crime.”
“And what’s your superpower?” asked Samantha. “Spending time with a Swiss boy?”
“I have the power of art and time on my side! Not only can I draw your future, but I can also bring my drawings to life—now!”
Ojo quickly sketched a number of ferocious monsters—snake-like creatures with two clawed legs and octopus-like tentacled creatures with a single reptilian eye on a stalk.
With swift swipes of her fingers, she threw them out of the screen—only for Samantha to swing her mallet at them mid-launch, throwing them right at the clocks on the wall, which promptly smashed.
“I don’t get it,” said Ojo, erasing the monsters. “The Heroics had to work together to get rid of these guys.”
“Let me try,” offered Grandson Clock.
He narrowed his eyes. He made clocks go off randomly across the shop, intending to distract Samantha so that Ojo could swipe her mallet.
But Samantha was more observant than he thought. She always evaded Ojo’s maneuvers as if she was the one who should’ve been named “eye”.
In the end, both heroes were unable to stop her from destroy every clock in the shop.
Not giving up, they followed her to the outside of the building, where a huge clock face ticked loudly under a similarly oversized cuckoo door.
Samantha watched in silence as the minute hand moved across the 29 position.
“Now’s our chance,” whispered Ojo.
The heroes charged at Samantha, but before they could reach her, the clock ticked to 10:30.
The cuckoo bird called once—and Samantha promptly struck the clock in the face, destroying the main mechanism.
Grandson Clock collapsed to his knees, his expression devastated. “No…”
But Ojo wasn’t ready to give up.
“We can fix this,” she whispered, putting a hand on Grandson Clock’s shoulder. She opened a new canvas on her iPad and sketched the grand clock furiously, detail by detail.
As the last stroke connected, the real clock shimmered, returning to its former glory as if nothing ever happened to it.
Grandson Clock stood up, his hope rekindled.
They then went inside, swiftly moving from clock to clock. Ojo sketched repairs while Grandson Clock reset each timepiece, synchronizing them with utmost precision. In minutes, the House of a Thousand Clocks was reborn, ticking in perfect harmony once again.
But Samantha wasn't there.
Ojo sighed, frustrated. “She escaped.”
Grandson Clock placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get her next time.”
Just then, Ojo’s iPad buzzed with a new drawing materializing on the screen.
It showed Samantha boarding a sleek train, mallet slung over her shoulder, with the distinct silhouette of a clock tower in the background.
“Where is that?” asked Ojo, showing the tablet to Grandson Clock.
He zoomed in on the image. “That looks like the Central Railway Station Clock Tower in Helsinki, Finland. But that’s in a different time zone. We can't get there in time!”
“Not with… my iPad,” Ojo finished, determination gleaming in her eyes.
She quickly sketched an airplane. At first glance, it looked like a normal biplane, but inside, it was powered by advanced, easy-to-use technology straight from the brilliant young minds on planet Ogima.
“Ready to stop Samantha once and for all?” asked Ojo excitedly, settling in the pilot’s seat.
“Ready,” nodded Grandson Clock, sitting in the passenger seat.
Ojo docked her tablet into the console that replaced the traditional flight instruments. Instantly, a drawing of a plane’s instrument panel appeared, together with a cartoonishly large, colorful button labeled “Start.”
She tapped it with her stylus, and the plane’s engines started themselves.
And just like that, they took off from the streets of Triberg.