45 - Girl Trouble

“What did you do to me?!” Flatfoot yells at K!xt, the Warshade merged with him. He hovers over the Terra Volta nuclear power complex, tentacles flailing in panic.

“We Kheldians retain an essence of the species we have merged with previously, and are able to call upon them at certain times of-”

“I don’t care about your crazy alien physiology! How do you undo it!?”

“That’s simple, all you do is relax and think of your natural form-”

With a flash of light, Flatfoot returns to his normal appearance, and immediately drops like a rock out of the sky. The hero sees the ground rushing towards him and desperately wishes he was standing on solid ground instead of rocketing toward it.

Another flash of light, and Flatfoot hovers upright three feet over a level rooftop. He opens his eyes carefully and gingerly drops to his feet safely.

“Ok… Now I’m really confused.”

“You weren’t supposed to transform back in mid-air!” K!xt shouts at Flatfoot.


On a nearby rooftop, seven shadowy figures observe Flatfoot bickering with the voice in his head. All are armed with an array of knives and guns and really big binoculars. One of the rooftop’s residents stands apart from the rest. She, a black-clad amazon of a female with glowing red eyes, hefts a large alien looking gun.

“At long last. My prey lies within my grasp. Your mercenaries have done their work well, Sister Antigone.”

“We’ve been observing this particular scrapper for weeks now. The Malta group have been…complaining about him.” This was true. Sappers were filing constant grievances about a blue blur that was kicking their heads and breaking their goggles before running away giggling. The change to a purple costume had thrown off the Knives, but only until for a few minutes.

“No matter,” the void huntress says leveling her gun. “One shot is all I need.”


Inside the bowels of Terra Volta, an air ventilation shaft opens and an small squad of stalkers silently excrete themselves into a hallway.

“Excellent,” the gingerbread man says, wringing his sugary palms in evil anticipation. “Yes. Yes. Something like this is exactly what I need.” He pauses, then looks around. “How do we blow it up?”


Sister Antigone reaches over and swats the Quantum gun down.

“No!” She hisses.

The Void Huntress fixes her with a burning glare. “You dare?”

“You don’t realize how fast he really is. Our snipers haven’t been able to get a clear shot on him in the entire time we’ve been tracking him.”

“Then what do you suggest we do about it?”

“Lure him into a trap of course.” If Sister Antigone were the kind to smile, and wasn’t wearing a full face mask, she would be smiling.


Even deeper inside Terra Volta, Deadfoot looks on curiously at the assembled Anti-Bomb.

“Does it have to be that big?” he asks.

“Of course,” the Reverse Flatfoot says, grinning widely. “With the explosion from this bomb, I can finally get revenge on all of the people on my list in one fell swoop.”

“Its not really a swoop, is it,” Crank Shaft says, looking up from a dice game he had been playing with his robotic minions.

“Shut up.” Reverse Flat says. “You should be more invested in this scheme anyway. After all, it was only with your work on your ‘Jaeger-Bomb’ that this was even possible.”

“Yeah. But the challenge was in building it. My part’s done.” The mastermind of the mechanical turns back to his dice game and rolls. He rolls a two. “Damn!”

A protect-bot rolls next. “Come. On. Baby. Needs. A. New. Pair. Of . Shoes.”

“Is…is he losing to his own robots?” Reverse Flat whispers to Deadfoot.

“Yes. Yes he is,” Deadfoot answers.


“Well a quick primer on what I can and can’t do now would be a big help, you know,” Flatfoot says bitterly.

“I have been telling you everything I can. You are the one who chooses not to listen,” K!xt

“Whatever. I’m running from now on-”

“Help! Help!” a voice cries from a nearby rooftop.

“Hark!” Flatfoot says. “A woman in danger!”

“I do urge you to look up some allies. What about those Grammar Guardians from earlier?”
“Pshaw,” Flat says. “Damsels in distress are routine. This’ll be a cakewalk.”


“Now,” Crank Shaft says, boredom creeping into his voice. “The timer is set to go off in 57 minutes. We should probably get going.”

“Why 57 minutes?” Deadfoot asks.

“Confuses people trying to diffuse it.”

A loud crash from the other end of the reactor room stops the conversation.

“Great! Just great!” Tecknique yells. “Stealthiest killers in the world. I can’t believe you!”

“Arr, that bucket ought not’ve been in the middle of the hallway,” Flatbeard says defensively.

“Uh, guys,” Invisibull says, pointing at the Reverse Flatfoot’s crew. “We’re not alone here.”

“Do you think they spotted us?” Pizzocato Polecat asks.

Crank’s robots snap to attention and Deadfoot’s fists glow with the promise of pink death.


“Now what seems to be the trouble here ma’m,” Flatfoot says, alighting on the aforementioned nearby rooftop. He spies a woman huddled against a chimney. “Was it the Circle of Thorns? They’ve got this crazy obsession with rooftops.”

The woman turns around, revealing a slim olive jumpsuit and a pair of military goggles and a pair of pistols leveled at the hero.

“Oh crap!” Flat shouts, raising a faint purple sphere around himself before the mercenary fires. The bullets bounce off harmlessly. “Ha!” he says.

Five more Knives of Artemis step out of the shadows. Flat stares in surprise at them. “Um. Hello ladies. Very nice, um, binoculars,” he says seeing the optical devices hanging from Sister Antigone’s neck. They open fire without responding.

Flat jumps and dodges around the rooftop, avoiding bullets and shurikens with ease. “Come on, ladies, you’ve got to put out more if you want to dance with the Flatster,” Flat taunts.
Sister Antigone reaches into a pocket and throws out a small canister that explodes in the air. A shower of tiny metal pyramids falls to the ground. Flat, concentrating on avoiding a hail of gunfire, runs directly onto the caltrops and immediately feels the effects.

“Owie! Owie! Owie!” Flat says, hopping around. The gunfire stops.

The Void Huntress emerges from the shadows and powers up her quantum rifle.

“Quantum gun? Ha! I’ve been hit by those all the time. I’m not afraid of your puny alien weaponry!”

“Yes we are!” K!xt shouts inside Flatfoot’s head. “One hit will likely kill us!”

“Oh,” Flat says watching helplessly as the Quantum gun glows angrily at him. He closes his eyes and wishes he were somewhere else.