Striga is a remote island off the coast of Paragon City. Situated on it is the small port town of Port Noble, and that would be that, if not for all the villain activity around the area. With all the shipping activity, the Family has brought its brand of graft and corruption there, along with the Warriors, a gang aspiring to the epic qualities of heroes of old, though nobody really takes them seriously. The remote location of Striga makes a perfect hideout for groups like the Council and Sky Raiders, who have both set up bases on the island.
"So who were the 5th Column?" Flatfoot asks Teckstyle. The two heroes are walking down the streets of Port Noble.
"A bunch of WWII relics trying to overthrow the government."
"Ah, that old chestnut," Flatfoot nods. "So Ratzis-"
"Er, yeah," Teck says hastily, looking around. "Only they got put down by some guys calling themselves the Council."
"And they are…?"
"Not exactly Ratzis."
"But they’re still into the whole world domination thing, right?" Flat asks.
"Oh, totally, and they have the same toys as the 5th, only with a new logo and slightly different uniforms."
"So…they got an extreme makeover?" Flat asks, scratching his head.
"Beats me," Teck shrugs.
The two walk on in thoughtful silence up a hill and out of town.
"So why do they do it?" Flat asks eventually. "I mean, with Ratzis, you know where you stand. Nobody feels bad about punching them in the face."
"Well, these Council guys have something to do with all of those aliens flying around."
"So…space Fascists?"
"Could be."
"Man, that’s enough to give a guy a headache. So where do these Council goons hang out."
Teck points to a very large, well fortified base looming in the distance.
"Ah. That would be it then." Flat says, whistling. "Man, they’re loaded. Are… are those vampires walking around out there?"
"Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"They’re genetically engineered into looking like that, and they’ve got some vampire-like draining powers, but they’re not undead or anything."
"I see." Flat says, looking around the island. He spies a hangar down a hillside, inside, idling, is a very large machine. "Wait, what’s that?"
"Sky Skiff. A big weapons platform for the Sky Raiders. Aw, crap. Get back here!" Teck shouts to a heedless Flatfoot, speeding down the hill.
He watches Flat jump onto the skiff and start punching the pilot in the face. A commotion rises up inside the hanger. The pilot of the skill starts to juke it back and forth, hovering out of the hangar, unable to shake off Flat. Various Sky Raiders rush out after it, firing wildly. The skiff’s pilot gets the craft airborne, spinning wildly with the extra weight of a flight-crazed scrapper. Teck sees the skiff rise high into the sky when a stray bullet hit’s a fuel tank. Black smoke erupts from the craft as it spins out of control toward the Council base.
Teck watches the trail of smoke descend into the Council base, followed by a gigantic explosion, followed by even more erratic gunfire for a long time. He sees a flash of golden light zigging and zagging through the base occasionally, up the volcano, down the volcano, and over the ramparts.
Flatfoot comes to a stop in front of Teckstyle, breathing heavily, but without a scratch on him. He’s holding something in a clenched fist. Several more explosions rock the facility in the distance.
"What just happened?" a bewildered Teckstyle asks.
"Well, we crashed in the Council base, the skiff blew up, which set off a chain reaction in the compound of more explosions, and I got chased by a lot of angry robots and fascists. Man, that place is huge! They’ve got a volcano! A VOLCANO! Off the coast of Rhode Island!"
"Yeah, its-"
"This island rocks!" Flat shouts with joy. "Anyway, I found this whistle in a crate in there." Flat holds up a small silver whistle.
"Careful, you don’t know what it could-"
Flat raises the whistle and blows into it. It makes no audible sound. Flat looks disappointed . "Oh man, I was hoping it would at least make a noise."
Suddenly the scrapper is bowled over by a large, snarling shaggy shape. It drools on him and tries to bite his shoulder.
Flat wrestles with the creature until he can stand up.
"What is this thing?"
"That’s a Warwolf. He probably came when you blew the whistle."
"So…its like a pet?" Flat asks, brightening.
"Well, I guess you could look at it that way."
"Awesome. I think I’ll call him Bismarck." The warwolf snarls and tries to claw him. "Aww, he tried to claw my face off."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment