16 - Loosely Based On A True Story

There are a seemingly infinite number of dimensions in the multiverse. Currently, Teckstyle and Flatfoot are gallivanting through one populated by the legions of Nemesis, though the minions of this dimension pose about as much trouble as the ones back home.

"Hey Teck, have you ever noticed…numbers rising above the heads of our enemies?" Flat asks after finishing off a straggler.

"Oh yeah," Teckstyle says. "My helmet’s got a display that gives me all kinds of readouts and numbers."

"Any idea what they mean?"

"Yeah. They’re very…technical. Lots of math involved. Very complicated. You wouldn’t understand."

"Oh. Ok." Flat says, looking at the fallen Nemesis soldiers. "Then why am *I* seeing numbers rising over their heads?"

"Oh, that?" Teck thinks for a minute. "Probably a concussion. Babbage did throw you across a city block into a bus, remember?"

"Yeah, that’s probably it," Flat says, convinced.

"Its best not to think about it," Teck reassures.

"Sometimes I see the word ‘critical’ over their heads…" Flat says quietly, staring off into space.

"Riiiight… Anyway, are you familiar with how these portal missions work?"

"Yeah. We go through portal and bust some heads."

"Well, true, but putting it that way really takes some of the flair out of it."

Flat shrugs and cracks his knuckles. "So right now, we’re on a world where that crazy Prussian and his marching band have completely taken over?"

"Yep. He’s seized power and eliminated everyone in his way, good and bad." Teck says. "He’s the undisputed master of this world."

"Well…is that really so bad here?" Flat asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Is life here really all that bad under his rule?"

"Gee, well, I don’t know. We only get spotty reports from other dimensions. Usually the scouts never report back."

"Well, what I’m saying is; do we have the ethical right to go over to someone else’s dimension and beat the snot out of them?"

"Oh come on! This is Nemesis we’re talking about. He’s tried to blow up the world how many times already?"

"Yeah, on *our* earth. How do we know this version is the same?" Flat persists. "And even if he was, how can we be sure that coming over here and slapping him on the wrist won’t make things worse? And what if our actions here have dire consequences on our own world back home?"

"Stop moralizing! You’re a scrapper!" Teck yells.

"Doesn’t mean I don’t think about these things." Flat shrugs.

"Don’t you dare start talking about time travel," Teck points menacingly.

"No way man, doing that’ll keep me up all night." Flat says, shaking his head. "And besides, I didn’t say I wouldn’t fight him, I just wondered if we were on the right side."

Teck throws his hands up in frustration. "All right, we’re supposed to defeat Nemesis Rex and pour jam all over his armor. Is that acceptable for you?"

"…Do what now?"

"Look, Portal Corp. gave me this jar of jam and said ‘off you go’."

"Well. I see Portal Corp. thinks highly of us," Flat mutters bitterly.

Several floors later, Flat & Teck stand at the end of a long hallway looking at the distant dictator at the far end.

"Hm. He’s taller than he looks." Teck says, analyzing the tyrant for weaknesses.

"I think it’s the armor. Hey, isn’t that the staff you were carrying around earlier?"

"By Jove, it is!" Teck exclaims.

"So how do we wanna do this?" Flat asks, stretching.

"Rest up, then you run in and I shoot him." Teck smacks Flat. "Stop making faces at him!"

"Do you think he can see us all the way over here?" Flat asks, then sticks his tongue out at Nemesis.

A tinny sound causes them to stop moving.

"Did…did he just giggle?" Flat asks, jaw open.

"An iron-fisted steam powered dictator just giggled. Let that be a lesson that everyone’s got a crack in their armor somewhere." Teck says sagely.

"Right. A crack that we have to pour strawberry jam down, so let’s strike now, while he’s still mirthful!"

It turns out Flat’s assessment was right on, and Nemesis was too busy having a little laugh to prepare himself for a full-sized scrapper planting a boot in his face, followed by a volley of blue energy.

"Ok, Nemesis is down," Teck says, landing on the ground. "Time to apply the jam."

"You go right ahead armor boy," Flat says, stepping back.

Teck grunts, opens the jar of jam and starts pouring it down a gap in Nemesis’ armor. He looks away from the task and sees Flat standing up from Nemesis’ head.

"Did…did you just scribble on his facemask with magic marker?" Teck asks, then looks back at the now empty jar. He tosses it aside and stands up.

"No. Now let’s get out of here before he wakes up," Flat says, heading for the door.

"Why do you keep doing stuff like that? It’s immature."

"Eh, its probably a desperate cry for attention. I wanna see if I can get Statesman to yell at me. Then I’ll know that I’ve made it big."