22 - The iDoom

“Well that was probably the most horrifying conversation I’ve ever had,” Teckstyle says.

“I don’t follow,” Flatfoot says. The two are patrolling the streets of Skyway.

“Just thinking of more versions of you gives me the willies,” the Blaster says.

“I dunno,” Flat says. “Somehow I feel reassured in my existence, like there’s some point to everything. I feel validated.”

“I wonder if there’s any alternate reality versions of me,” Teck wonders.

“Probably. If the multiverse is as infinite as it seems, then there must be a few versions of you spread over.” Flat’s eye’s brighten. “Oo! I bet there’s a flax-powered farm boy out there who calls himself ‘Textile’!”

“Now that’s just silly…”

“Too late, if he’s conceivable in your mind, he already exists somewhere in the multiverse. So does super-stenographer Text-style,” Flat says, grinning.

“I hate you, Flat.”

“Hey, you ever wonder how many alternate versions of you are already dead? Like, if they were dumber than you or just plain unlucky?”

“That’s…morbid,” Tecks says.

“What’s worse is knowing there’s alternate versions of me that are way more successful. Lucky jerks.”

“And to think, I used to wonder about your sanity,” Teck says, looking around. “Hey,” he says, spotting a group of excessively large Trolls gathering under a bridge. “Check it out.”

Flat looks over. “Oh wow, it’s a genuine Troll rave, I’ve never seen one before.”

“They’ve even got glowsticks. Let’s go break it up.”


In a small alley next to an electronics store in Steel Canyon, a van pulls to a stop. The driver gets out and goes to the trunk, opens a large plastic box and lifts out a three foot tall mess of plastic and wiring. He carefully flicks a switch in the tangled mass of wires. A few lights come on and the thing springs to life. Arms and legs unfold and the man gently puts it down on the ground, pats it on the head and goes back into the van.

Inside the van are consoles, monitors, keyboards and other electronic doohickeys of unknown purpose. The man sits down next to one keyboard, taps a few keys, and smiles.

Outside, the robots takes a few awkward steps backward, then forward, then, the operator finally getting the hang of it, the robot quickly steps around the corner and through the doors of the electronics store.

The clerk behind the counter is reading an RC Plane magazine and barely looks up when the door opens and closes. “Can I help you?” he asks, still not looking up.

“This. Is. A. Robbery,” a tinny voice says below.

“Huh?” The clerk asks, finally looking up and seeing nothing.

“Down. Here,” the voice says. The clerk looks down and stifles a laugh.

A laser shoots past his head.

“Not. So. Funny. Now. Huh?”

“Um, I wasn’t laughing. What do you want?”

“I. Require. Seven. Hundred. MP3. Players.”

“Um, dude, we, like, don’t really carry those here,” the clerk says scratching his head.

“Give. Me. What. You. Have.”

The clerk steps back from the counter slowly and walks to a shelf, pulling some boxes down. He looks back at the robot and stops.

The small robot is twitching around violently, then falls over onto the ground. Something inside of it shatters when it lands. The clerk steps over to it and eventually prods it with his foot. It remains unresponsive. The clerk shrugs and gets a dust broom from a back room.

Back outside, the doors of the van are flung open wide and police line has been wrapped around it.

“Thanks Kid Flatfoot,” a police officer says, tipping his hat. “We’ve been on this guy’s trail for weeks now.”

The man from the van is led into a police car, his hands cuffed behind his back. “You’ll be begging me for mercy when I’ve finished the iDOOM!” he yells.

“I don’t know what that is,” Kid Flat says as the would-be conqueror is buckled into his seat.

“Its-” he says as the door is slammed shut in his face. “My dose!” he screams from inside. “I dink you boke by dose!”

“Well, looks like we won’t have to worry about him anymore,” Kid Flat says cheerfully.