10 - Crickey!

The sewers beneath Paragon City are fraught with danger. Gangs ranging from the lowly Hellions to the vicious Rikti all seek refuge there from the dogged pursuit of the heroes above. Occasionally, teams of heroes will go down to try and clear them out, but never with any permanent success.

"Oh man, this place is nasty," Flatfoot groans as he wades through the sewage of a bustling metropolis.

"Yeah, I know," Teckstyle says, hovering over the detritus.

"I mean, the water’s green. And not like natural, healthy produce green, but more like radioactive demon vomit green." A rat skeleton floats past the scrapper. He looks down without amusement.

"Yeah, when I first came down here, I thought the light was coming from the service lights, then I realized most of them were broken. I think some kind of radioactive algae is the cause."

"Well, that’s just convenient, isn’t it?" Flat grumbles.

"At least you’re not crawling around in the dark." Teck shrugs.

"I’m thinking that might be better actually, then you don’t get to confirm what just floated past your leg."

"So," Teck says, changing the subject. "What’s with the cape?"

"Oh that? I’m just experimenting with it for the time being. It certainly looks dashing in a fight, especially on camera, but it adds a lot of drag when I’m trying to get anywhere in a hurry. I was thinking of maybe getting a half-cape, but that just doesn’t fit into the whole image I’m trying to project."

"I see."

The heroes round a corner. A pack of skulking Skulls bolt as soon as they see Flatfoot.
"What was that about?" Teck asks.

"Well, after that whole "Kill Skuls" craze, they learned not to mess with someone who hunted them for sport," Flat says. A drowned Rikti monkey floats past flatfoot. "If the EPA ever got down here, they’d probably condemn the whole city."

Teck shakes his head. "EPA doesn’t come down here anymore. Not since the last team got eaten by the alligators."

Flat looks around nervously. "Alligators? No way, that’s…that’s just a myth…Right?"

"I’m serious. This place is crawling with everything else imaginable. If any sewer system in the world has alligators, it’d be this one."

"But isn’t Rhode Island a little bit…North for gators?" Flat asks hopefully.

"They’re probably mutated beyond normal recognition and as big as subcompacts."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am, I am a man of science."

A yellow glow emanates from below the water level. Teck looks at him expectantly.
"What?" The scrapper responds defensively. "Its in case I need to, um, scout ahead. Yeah. Or something."

Teckstyle shakes his head and flies down an incline. Flatfoot follows, and slides into a gathering of cadavers and reapers. Caught unprepared, Flat gets coated in zombie vomit before he can begin fighting back. Teck aims carefully and starts eliminating Reapers one by one while Flat disposes of the cadavers.

After the last zombie falls, Flat looks down at his costume. Some of the parts covered in thick vomit hiss and pop. "Oh, great. Zombie puke’s starting to eat through my suit."

"That’s not all," Teck says, pointing to the tatters of Flat’s cape.

"Oh for the love of-. Well, I guess that settles the question of whether or not I keep it." Flat begins to scratch his arms, where the vomit was particularly thick. "Crap, its through my suit now. What’s in that stuff?"

A beep from Teck’s helmet causes him to tilt his head to one side silently for a moment.

"Hydrochloric acid, silver nitrate, and cheese curls."

"Cheese curls?"

"Those are the chunky orange bits."

"How’d you know that?"

"I’ve got a little readout in my HUD that told me so."

"I didn’t know you had a chemical analyzer in there."

"I didn’t either. It just beeped and started feeding me information. Now I can’t figure out how to stop it. By the way, the closer we get to Dr. Vazhilok’s chamber, the more noxious the air gets. My filtration system protects me, but unless you can dodge air molecules, you’d probably best get one of your own."

"Nah, I don’t feel any different."

"The air’s mostly composed of carbon monoxide, nitrogen and methane. The temperature is 95 degrees Fahrenheit, with a humidity of 80 percent. The current time is 3:45 on a Wednesday. Tomorrow’s forecast calls for sun with temperatures in the 80s, cooler by the waterfront."
Flatfoot stares blankly at Teckstyle. "Where are you getting all this stuff, the farmer’s almanac?"

"I’m just reading what it says. You sure you don’t need an air filter?"

"I’m good. I’m hardcore," Flat says, itching furiously at the holes in his suit. "No, wait, I don’t feel so good anymore," he says and tips face first into the sludge.

Teck pauses for a moment, wondering if he should pull the scrapper out, then lands in the sewer water and yanks Flat out of the drink.

"Well," Teck says, "Looks like the sewage cleaned off the zombie vomit. You ok, Flat?"

Flatfoot nods silently, coughing up green water with chunky bits.

The duo continues onward, eventually coming to a very big door. Teck opens it as stealthily as he can, revealing a room filled with zombies dominated by the hulking form of Dr. Vazhilok.
Flat’s eyes go wide as he sees the mad doctor. "Whoa, that’s the biggest gator I’ve ever seen in me life!"

"That’s not a gator, that’s Doctor-"

"Boy, isn’t she a beauty. Probably in excess of 900 pounds, that one is. Crickey, look at those muscles! They could rip a man in half. Of course, wrangling one of these beautiful creatures can be tricky, and the utmost care should be taken not to hurt the Sheila."

"Uh…" Teck manages to say.

"Now, she’s surrounded by her young, so she’s going to be very protective of them, she will. Fight like a Tasmanian Devil, she will. Now, I’m gonna sneak up behind her while by assistant will get in place with the net. I’ll distract the Sheila by sticking my thumb up her cloaca."
"Flat?" Teck asks, but the scrapper is already in the room, speeding around behind the Doctor without being seen. Teck covers his eyes.

Doctor Vazhilok lets out a very, very angry scream. Teck opens his eyes to see the Doctor running around trying to pull the scrapper off his back.

"Strewth!" Flatfoot screams. "She’s feistier than I thought!"

Several minutes later, the arrest is complete, and Flat & Teck exit the sewers.

"That…was probably the most disturbing arrest I’ve ever seen." Teck says, keeping his distance from Flatfoot.

"Aye, she was a feisty little one. A shame we had to use up all the horse tranquilizers on her, but she just wouldn’t go down." Flat rubs his temples. "Crickey, I don’t feel so good."

Flat turns around and vomits against the wall of the sewer entrance.

"Oh, great, you’ve splashed some onto by boots!" Teck complains.

Flat turns back, slightly pale. "What happened? Why did we leave the sewers? What’s that smell?"

"You…you don’t remember?"

"From the tone of your voice, I don’t think I want to."

"Oh no, if I had to see it, then you’ll have to hear about it. I want you to feel the guilt of what you just did in there."

Before Teck can continue, a loud rumbling heralds a stampede of Devoured Earth granites. The rock creatures round a corner and run down the two where they stand.

After they’ve gone, Teck stands up painfully. He looks at the Nemesis Staff he’s been carrying around. Its broken in half. A spring flies off into the bushes. "Well, it was fun while it lasted," he says tossing aside the broken staff. "You ok Flat?"

"I fell on my keys."