Perez Park is a section of town crawling with warring factions. Hellions and Skulls fight on the streets, while Clockwork and Vazhilok wage war in the forest itself, and there are more sinister forces at work there too.
"No, no, no! Horatio, I thought I told you to stop making cogs when you’re off stage?" Flatfoot yells at an assembler prince.
"Uhhhh," moans an embalmed cadaver.
"Not now, Gertrude. Get back to your mark and fix that wig." Flat points over to a distant part of the stage.
"Uhhhh," the zombie repeats, but shuffles over to its mark.
"And Laertes?"
"What?" growls a bandana wearing Hellion.
"Stop spitting fire at me. Its good to get in character and all, but when I yell cut, that means its time to stop."
The Hellion makes an obscene gesture.
"That’s better, I suppose. Now, the gravedigger," Flat turns to a Bone Daddy. "Real nice job, but you’ve got to stop throwing the Yorik prop at Laertes. Its very fragile."
"Bite me!"
Flat walks over to a Headman sitting on a throne. "Claudius, what did I tell you about wearing that football helmet?"
The headman mutters something unintelligible.
"What was that?"
"That it ain’t very kingly." The Headman mumbles.
"Good. Now, I don’t want you wandering off again," Flat turns to a Man O War. "And Ophelia. Ophelia my dear. You smell like you just crawled out of the sewers, which only would work after you’ve drowned, and that’s not even on stage. Though I do applaud the effort." He turns to face the rest of the "cast". "Now, let’s try Act I again. Please, stop shooting at me Polonius, that’s very immature. Oh, and one more thing. Hamlet’s Father? Great job on the whole ghost thing, you’re really selling it." A spectral warrior seems to smile a little bit before fading out of view. "And…action!"
A bright flash of light and a hiss of steam blasts "Ophelia" completely off the stage, along with a few of "Horatio’s" Cogs. Gertrude looks around frantically, then hunches over, rumbles and explodes.
When the dust settles, Flatfoot sits up and looks around, blinking.
"Hey Flatso, long time no see." Teckstyle says, floating a few feet away, the nemesis staff whirring menacingly.
"What are you doing??" Flat shouts. "Look at this mess! Gertrude exploded, the surviving cast ran away, and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern really ARE dead."
"I’m doing my part to rid the city of evil," Teck says defensively. "What’re you doing?"
"Well, this WAS going to be Hamlet, until you showed up. Now we’ll never be ready for opening night."
"Wait, was that cadaver wearing a wig?" Teck asks.
"Yeah. Dress rehearsal."
"…WHY?"
"As a show of civic pride. If these "villains" have something to be proud of, then they might not want to threaten the city as much."
"…But putting Hellions and Skulls in the same place?"
"Hmm. You’re right. Maybe Romeo & Juliet would’ve been better. The Skulls would make great Capulets," Flat says, thinking out loud. "I see you’ve still got that…staff…thing."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, you wanna go badge hunting on Striga Island?"
"Badge what?"
"See, if you arrest enough villains from a certain group, the city gives you a badge as a show of thanks. You’ve had to hear about this before."
"I think I heard someone talking about them," Flat asks, looking at a small collection of pins.
"So how about it?" Teck asks.
"I dunno… When I team with you, it usually hurts a lot."
"The Sky Raiders have a base there. They’re bound to have some jet packs lying around."
"You drive a hard bargain, mister."
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