He suspiciously examined the crumpled papers. “Half Off Sale? All the Fugu Ye Can Eat? Cheap food! Ah loves it!” The clouds lightened a bit, but hung nonetheless. With a bounce in his step, the Surly Scot made his way to the House Cap'n Salty built.
But, not too far down the litter free trail, Angus encountered a group of mimes practicing their fine art. He considered demonstrating his Surprisingly Concealable and Wieldly Enemy-B-Crushed Named Bertha on each of them in a rather random and violent manner. The mighty club was a testament to pain: as thick as a steel girder and twice as dense, covered in spikes and studs, and adorned with rude limericks about your mother. It was a beautiful weapon.
However, Angus's mime mangling was not to be. In the evil, evil shadows lurked an evil, evil form. It slinked, it snuck, it scuttled. All with the intent of reaching the stout Scot.
At last it was near enough. A hand slowly emerged from the depths of the shadows...
Angus's grip on his massive Enemy-B-Crushed tightened. Veins popped up from his leathery skin, “This'll huurt ye a
lot
more'n it’ll hurt me,” he whispered longingly.
The shadowy hand hovered just behind the Scotsman's exposed neck. It struck like a snake—
ZZZZZZZT!
“BWAAAAAAAAAH!” Hundreds of volts of electricity coursed through Angus's iron laden body. He jumped forward, brandishing the graphic club that was, until then, unseen. “Ye got bite, but Ah bite back, lassy!”
From the shadows of a centennial tree a sleek sexy figure stepped into the light of day. She wore a white lab coat that reached to the bottom of her shapely calves and waved in a suddenly present breeze. Under the coat a black rubber body suit that emphasized each of her perfectly seductive curves in all the right ways clung enticingly against her. Her hair shone with its blackness as the wind tossed thin silken locks into her exotic face. She was something straight out of a How To Draw Fan Service book. She holstered a tazer and squinted her eyes in the sunlight as she stared at Angus's static frizzled beard.
She spoke with a thick Transylvanian accent, “You ought to look into some relaxer for that.”
“Insultin’ a Scootsman's beard isn’t a good idea, lassy!” Angus reared his feared weapon and charged the Venomous Villainess before him.
She stepped out of the way and snatched the coupons from his free hand as he ran past her wildly swinging his Enemy-B-Crushed at air.
“Hey! Thems is mine!”
She rest her lithe hand on an exquisite hip and tilted her head to one side. “Oh really, darling? Then why are they in my hand, hmmm?”
“Ye be askin’ for it, lassy!” Angus shook his oversized club threateningly.
She adopted a look of mock fear. “Oh, vhatever shall I do? Out of my way little man, I have bigger fugu to fry.”
He sputtered angrily.
“And that club. Ever hear of Freud? I'm not certain which inadequacy you're over compensating for, but you should really look into it.”
The Surly Scot's face reddened as his blood boiled. The veins on his forehead and neck became plainly visible. He bit his bottom lip. His entire body shook with the intensity of a paint mixer. A battlecry erupted from his tiny lungs and thundered across the park, “DWARRRRF-A-PULLLLLT!”
Fierce fire flared from Iron: Battle Suit's Bagpipe Thrusters. They sounded like a gaggle of geese being put through slow, painful deaths that probably involved a rusty, half-broken meat grinder.
“YYYYYYYYEARGHABLBLBLBLBLE!” the Scotsman roared as he flew past the Venomous Villainess at over seven hundred miles an hour.
She watched Angus shrink into the distance, his limbs flailing madly, battlecries and curses still booming above the sounds of tormented Bagpipe geese. His speck slammed against a building, clung to the wall for a few seconds, and plummeted to the unforgiving ground.
She rubbed her chin, “Flashy, but unimpressive.” She held the coupons and kissed them gently. “Let'z see how valuable you truly are.”
She disappeared as sneakily as she had arrived.
And just in time too, as Nuklear Man and Atomik Lad touched down seconds later.
“All right, first we—Atomik Lad! My you've grown!”
He blinked with surprise. “What are you—Nuke, step out of your crater.”
The Hero looked around himself. “Ah yes, well uh...lookforthecoupons.”
“Sure, Nuke.”
Nuklear Man floated out of his little hole and strode majestically into the park search of his coveted coupons.
Atomik Lad strolled around looking for those oh so sought after pieces of paper. He sat in the shade of a large tree for a moment. He watched Nuklear Man pose for a mostly uninterested elderly couple as he passed by them. The sidekick stood again and dusted his bottom when he felt something that didn't belong there: a piece of paper!
“Nuke!”
“Eh?” The Hero turned his head and stumbled out of his pose, though the elderly couple hadn't noticed him being in the pose anyway so it was a moot point.
The sidekick, holding the note at arms length, trotted to Nuklear Man. “I found something.”
The Hero smiled proudly. “Good work!” He took the paper and unfolded it clumsily. “This must be the villain's typical note revealing his location and intents in a vague and cryptic manner and/or riddle. They're all the rage nowadays. I'm so excited!” His eagerness grew and his sky blue eyes widened as he read the note. “Ooooh!”
“’Oooh’ what?”
“This one is
so
vague and cryptic that it's in code.”
“Let me see what I can do.” Atomik Lad grabbed the bottom and top of the note, took it form his mighty mentor, and turned it right side up. “How's that?”
Nuklear Man beamed. “
Good!
You've just saved us hours of dudective work.”
“Dudective?” Atomik Lad shook his head
.
“Anytime, Nuke.”
“Now to read it.” He cleared his thick throat. “’I know all too well of your many heroic explosions, so I—’”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Explosions?”
“Yes, right here...‘heroic explosions’.”
“Gimme that!” Atomik Lad snatched the note.
Nuklear Man gave him a stern look. “You ought to be more careful with the evidence. And, I might add, more respective-able to your Hero.”
“’Exploits!’” Atomik Lad slapped the note. “’Heroic exploits.’ Can’t you read?”
Nuklear Man snatched the note back. “No one asked you, hmmphf! Now then, where was I?”
Atomik Lad crossed his arms over his chest and muttered. “I think you were about to explode heroically.”
Ignoring the comment, Nuklear Man went on. “Ah yes, ‘...too well of your many heroic expl
cough!
...ahem, so I shan't bore you with the typical note revealing my intentions and location in a vague and cryptic manner and/or riddle since you'd solve it within moments.’”
“Don't hold your breath.” Atomik Lad said.
“‘I will be blunt. If you ever wish to see your beloved coupons again, then come to my lair, the abandoned Polluto Chemical Factory just outside of town. I am awaiting your imminent arrival. Evily Yours, Dr. Veronica Menace.’”
The Hero of heroes paused for a moment. “Shucks!” He spat in frustration as he clenched the fist not holding the taunting note; a liquid-like sphere of golden energy flared around it for a moment. “This is gonna be tougher than I thought.”
“Shucks? What are you talking about? Let's go!” The impetuous sidekick started to fly, but found that a powerful grip held him firmly to the surface by his collar. Atomik Lad struggled against Nuklear Man's unbreakable grasp but quickly gave up. “And I thought Nuke’s Rule #1 was Don't wrinkle the outfit.”
Releasing his grasp of the sidekick and seeming to peer through the note, Nuklear Man spoke. “This note is so vague and cryptic by virtue of how straightforward it is that we can't hope to crack it without help! We'll need to regroup at the Silo of Solitude so we can run this through the supercomputer! This Dr. Menace could be anywhere!”
“Nuke. What are you talking about? It’s Dr. Menace. She’s been our arch nemesis for like ten years. She told us she's staying at the old Polluto Chemical Factory. Hell, that’s where she
always
is.”
“That's what she
wants
you to think!” He leaned forward, shoving his finger into Atomik Lad's face.
“That's because it’s true.” Atomik Lad said tiredly.
“That may be, but that doesn't account for the fact that....” Nuklear Man's gaze, attention, and Big Wheel of thought trailed off.
“Hey! Big Guy.” The sidekick elbowed the Golden Guardian to rouse him.
“Who-What-Where?!” The Hero looked to and fro with intimidating poses to keep evil stuff at bay.
“It's alright, Bright Eyes, we were just about to head to the Polluto Chemical Factory.”
Nuklear Man's keen eyes darted from side to side as he tried to recall the past few moments...
failure!
“So we were. To the chemical plant!” The Hero rose a few feet in the air. Atomik Lad’s chaotic field enveloped him and he followed suit.
They streaked through the bustling streets of Metroville: zigging, zagging, jinking, jiving, cutting off the other motorists, and all around speeding to the abandoned Polluto Chemical Factory outside of town.
“We take a left onto Victory Lane up ahead, Sparky!”
“Are you sure? I thought the left turn was at Vigilance Street. And don't call me Sparky.”
“Ahem!
Who
has the map? Hmm? This is Vigilance Street, and we take the next left.” Nuklear Man said while pointing at the intersection on a map he held in front of him as they zoomed at break neck speed through the crowded streets.
“Nuke, this is Adams Avenue, I lived here for nine years. I think I'd know where it is. You've got to be reading that map wrong.”
“So says you.”
Atomik Lad flew closer to his mentor and inspected the map for himself. “Nuke! This is a map of Burgsville!”
The Hero blinked. “You're point being?”
Atomik Lad clawed at his own face. “This
isn't
Burgsville!”
“The map says it is.”
“It’s the wrong map.”
“That's what you think!”
“Ugh. Look Nuke, I'll go my way and you go yours. We'll see who gets there first.”
“I'll be waiting for you, sucker.”
“I bet.”
Nuklear Man swerved left onto Victory Lane though he thought it was quite curious that according to the street sign he was entering Rand Road,
What an odd move on the part of the civil engineers
, he thought.
Once I'm done with this Dr. Menace thing, I'll fix that right up.
As the golden streak blazed through the busy city streets of Metroville, a pair of gleaming eyes flared from the depths of a dark alley. A guttural snarl emanated from the depths of the alley. “Lawbreaker!”
Nuklear Man fumbled with the map like any normal person does when trying to refold one. “Foul beast of travelers!” He grunted as the folds would not yield even to his mighty strength. The Hero struggled against the paper bonds when suddenly—
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGCLICKCLICKCLICK!
“...I mean, Pull over!”
“Wah!” Nuklear Man was so surprised by the hail of bullets that he accidentally disintegrated the map in an involuntary burst of Plazma Power.
Another blast surged past the Hero, missing him by mere inches. “I said, Pull
over
!”
The Hero complied.
A rather large gentleman brandishing what appeared to be a smoking Infantry-Stopper 2000 Pulse Cannon, the latest in advanced weapons technology, was stomping up to Nuklear Man from behind. This well armed man also sported the latest in defensive attire, the Infantry-Stopper-Stopper 2000 Power Armor. He looked like a knight from the future, a bleak future where people shoot at each other even more often than they do now. It had a blue and white color scheme with what appeared to be a policeman style badge of some sort on the chest. He stalked over to Nuklear Man until they were nose to nose.
The Hero suddenly felt a sneeze coming on.
“License and registration please,” the looming knight-cop said as he began writing in an armored notepad.
“AH...” Nuklear Man wiggled his nose and closed his eyes tight. “AH...AH...” a moment passed, and with it, the urge to sneeze. “Ahh…” He sighed in relief.
“You done making lewd noises, son?” the Armored Officer said harshly.
Nuklear Man nodded.
“License and registration.”
“But I ah...I don't have them.”
“I see.” The policeman scrawled in his notepad again.
Nuklear Man looked at the badge. It resembled the ones law officials use, but with a few differences. On top it said, “The Civil Defender.” And across the bottom it read, “To Smite and Pummel.”
“AH-
CHOO
!”
The Civil Defender looked up at Nuklear Man.
“Eheh. Oops.”
“Quite.” He began, again, to write in his notepad.
“Um.” The Hero fidgeted. “Is this uh, is this going to take long? I'm sorta in a hurry and I—”
“’
Sort of in a hurry?!’”
The Civil Defender repeated with a face twisted in rage.
“Eeep!” Nuklear Man said.
“Forty-
eight
in a forty-
five
is a
bit
more than ‘sorta in a hurry!’”
“Well the fate of the city may lie in the balance, you see I—”
“That's what they
all
say! ‘We’ve got to get to the hospital.’ ‘She’s in labor.’ ‘He’s having a heart attack.’ ‘There’s a fire at the Imperial State building.’ ‘What kind of lunatic are you?’ It’s all the same with you accursed speeders.” The Civil Defender began tearing off sheets of paper and tossing them at the Hero with every offense. “Driving Without a License.” RIP. “Driving While Uninsured.” RIP. “Unlawful Speeding.” RIP. “Failure to Identify.” RIP. “Reckless Driving.” RIP. “Resisting Arrest.” RIP. He pointed to the slightly glowing sneeze-goo splattered across the badge on his chest badge. “Assaulting an Officer.” RIP. He pointed to Nuklear Man's outfit. “Public Indecency.” RIP. “
And!”
He gestured to the pile of paper that engulfed Nuklear Man's feet. “
Littering!”
RIP.