39 - Fix A Flat

"What’s in the box?" Teckstyle asks, leaning over Flatfoot’s shoulder.

The scrapper tears open the packaging and looks inside. "Ooo, a gun!" he says pulling out a futuristic looking pistol.

"Someone’s got a secret admirer!"

"What? Oh, there’s a note."

Flat takes out a small note card and opens it. His eyes glaze over as he looks at it.

He slowly raises the pistol. "Must…kill…Teckstyle…."

"Oh, must be from the Countess. I was wondering when she’d get back at us for the whole kidnapping thing."

"Must…kill…Teckstykle-"

"Put that thing away before I hurt yourself."

Outside the Tropic of Cancer, a quartet of stalkers stumble out of the door.

"Yuh…yuh know what we gotta do? We…we gotta find us a cab," Tecknique says.

"Whyzzat?" Invisibull asks.

"I ain’t gotta car," Tecknique says. "Got impounded fer parallel parking."

"Oh great, now how’re we supposed to get there?" Pizzocato Polecat asks, steadying herself on the side of a building.

Suddenly a bright flash of light and a "Proing" sound shatters the night air.

"Are…are ye seein’ what I be seein’?" Flatbeard asks.

Standing before the scrappers is a thin, almost two dimensionally flat man with a frown made of frosting and ginger bread skin.

The newcomer looks around and folds his arms. "I need an explosion. A big one." He points at the stalkers. "You’re going to help me."

In another corner of the Rogue Isles, a black clad re-animated corpse from another dimension prowls the trash littered alley looking for trouble.

The unfortunates du jur are a squad of Longbow agents trying to discreetly break into an Arachnos safe house. Unfortunate, because their bright red and white uniforms don’t really blend in with the shadows.

Due to the kinetic energy generator imbedded in his chest, Deadfoot is able to channel excess energy into an aura that bends light around him that makes him about as visible as a shadow on a cloudy night in a blackout. Of course, the generator does more for him than make him hard to see. He can also reroute it into his fists, which, when applied to the right spot, say a human head, can make the whole world hard to see.

Which is exactly what happens to a Longbow Defender who spins around suddenly and falls over. Before the other agents can pull their rifles, they join their teammate on the ground.
Deadfoot, a menacing figure in black and yellow, materializes out of the shadows. The imposing image is somewhat lessened by the jolly pink glow around his fists. He wipes his gloved hands together and then sighs.

"Season’s beatings, gang," he says. "Enjoy your naps." He looks around expecting more agent fodder. "Man, this is boring."

"I can change that, you know," a voice says from the entrance to the alley.

"Who in the sweet name of funnel cake are you?"

"That isn’t for you to know right now."

Meanwhile, Teckstyle’s managed to pull the gun away from Flatfoot. The two are now waiting for the tram in Steel Canyon.

"So, uh, what happened to that pistol I got?" Flat asks.

"Don’t worry about it. You’ll get it back when its done."

"Done what?"

"I’m just making a few…modifications to it. You’ll get it back when its done."

"Oh." Flat says, scratching behind his ear. "Is it done yet?"

Teck fixes Flat with a blank, helmeted stare. Flat shrugs and raises a tube in his right hand, shakes it, and fires it into his mouth.

"Wh-what are you eating?"

"Juhs uh snah," Flat says, neon green gel oozing out of his mouth.

"Gimme that," Teck says, snatching the tube and reading it. "Do you know what this stuff is?"

Flat swallows. "Its some kind of health food, I think. Whatever it is, it had my name on it."

"THIS," Teck says, holding the tube up to Flat, "is a chemical designed to fix flat tires, not a tired Flat."

"Wait, are we talking the good kind of chemicals, like the ones that give you diamond-hard skin or generate pheromones that drive the ladies wild?"

"Hang on," Teck says, reading the label more closely. "No. No, its definitely the bad kind of chemicals."

"Oh," Flat says. "Guess we’d better get to a hospital then."

"Whaddaya mean ‘we?’ I’m not the one who needs his stomach pumped."

"No, you’re the one who needs to fly me there since I’m about to-"

Flat falls face first onto the floor.

Teck sighs and grabs Flat by the ankles and flies off to the nearest hospital. Unseen by him, two glowing shapes high above him are watching intently.

"Are…you really sure these are the two we need to save?" the purple one asks.

"Yes," the blue one says with growing irritation.

"They don’t seem likely to survive long enough to get to their deaths."

"Look, you can turn around and head back into space and get your essence blown apart by that angry lady with the glowing eyes if you want. I for one, like my essence where it is."

"All right, all right," the purple one says.

"You sure?" the blue one asks. "I mean, if that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you."

"No, I’m staying."

"Then quit your bellyaching."