19 - Outsourcing

A warehouse in Independence Port shakes with the sounds of battle. A Tsoo sorcerer crashes through the loading doors and lands near the street. Teckstyle steps out, armored fists glowing.

“How’d you do that?” Flatfoot asks. “I mean, you just jumped up and then walloped the guy.”

“I can focus the energy of my suit into a concentrated aura around my fists and hit stuff with it,” Teck says.

“Ah,” Flat says, thinking. “So…is that why it looks different than your ranged attacks?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well when you shoot people, its…blue.”

“Right.”

“And when you punch people, its…pink.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“What’s up with that? Why the two colors?”

“Well, see, when I fire off blasts of energy, the air cools them down somewhat, and that’s why they look blue, and when I focus them around me, it glows, er, pink with the heat.”

“You don’t know, do you?” Flat says.

“Boy there sure were a lot of Tsoo in that warehouse, weren’t there?” Teck asks, changing the subject.

“…Yeah. It was one of their safe houses.” The scrapper shakes his head. “Man, there were more tattoos in there than the city of Sturgis has ever seen.”

“What?”

“They hold an annual biker rally? Bikers have…ah, forget it,” Flat says, shaking his head again. “They sure didn’t take well to the destruction of their priceless ancient relics.”

“Was it me who set them up on undersized pedestals without Plexiglas?” Teck asks. “No it was not. They’ve only got themselves to blame. By the way, what was going on with you and those ninjas?”

“Oh that? We were trading insults,” Flat says.

“You weren’t saying anything.”

“Ah,” Flat says, pressing his hands together wisely. “We were speaking the language of violence.”
“The what of the what?”

“It is an ancient way of communicating much older than spoken words. Hitting someone with a rock is the equivalent of hello, only without bothering about syllables and spelling.”

“…And you learned this where?”

“I had a ninja for a roommate for a while.”

“And he…taught it to you?”

“Nah,” Flat says. “We didn’t get along very well. I cribbed some of his notes when he wasn’t around though.”

“And…this ninja. What happened to him?” Teck asks.

“Oh, he failed to assassinate the head of a zaibatsu and had to commit seppuku.”

“You don’t say.”

“Made a hell of a mess too. I had to get new a new carpet after that. Man, that rug really tied the room together, too.” Flat says. “Well, that’s my ninja story.”

“Hey, wait,” Teck interrupts. “I just realized something. Aren’t ninjas Japanese?”

“Yeah.”

“But I thought the Tsoo were Chinese. Where’d they get the ninjas?”

“Outsourcing, maybe? It is a global economy after all. Trained ninjas are a valuable commodity in today’s crime syndicate world. I mean, I’d want some.”

“What’re you going to do with ninjas?” Teck demands. “I mean, other than speak your made up language?”

“Well…They could help with…chores and…if I ever wanted to learn Bridge, I’d have a team ready to go. Things of that nature.”

A shuriken flies past the two and imbeds itself in a wall. A group of Ink Men materialize out of the shadows.

“Look out, more of them!” Teck says, blasting at one of them.

“Their tattoos are moving…” Flat says, staring.

“Yeah, I know, they’re magical,” Teck says. “Now give me a hand!”

“Its like a screen saver…The one with the pipes…”

“All right, fine, be that way. I’ll take them myself.”



One zone away, a black and yellow clad figure stalks the streets of Talos Island. From the shadows, he sees a gang of Freakshow beating up a pair of cowering warriors.

A pair of glowing fists illuminate the alley next to the gangers. “Hiya boys, see these two glowing fists about to knock your teeth out? I call ‘em the molar express.” The figure then leaps out at the surprised Freakshow.

In the ensuing fracas, the warriors manage to beat a hasty retreat while the Freakshow aren’t so lucky. A crowd of horrified onlookers gathers, including some law enforcement members.

“What-what did you do to them?” a SWAT member yells. “You-you…brute you!”

“Yeah, that’s great, you’re welcome and everything,” the man in black says, tossing aside the remnants of a Swiper’s arm. “Look, screaming SWAT guy, why don’t you go call in a paddy wagon for these guys, ok? Or a garbage truck.” He turns and addresses the crowd. “All right people, I’ve got some bad news for you. The Flatfoot you’ve all known and loved is dead.” A few gasps are drowned out by people asking ‘who?’ “But the good news is, even in death I still serve the citizens of Paragon City, just call me Deadfoot from now on and we’ll get along fine.”

A few more police officers have gathered around, talking with themselves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister,” one officer says. “Flatfoot just phoned in to a contact reporting another completed job, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with us…”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Deadfoot asks. “I’ve saved this city more times than I can count. I gave my life for Paragon!! Is everyone here crazy? Did Nemesis work some kind of mind control mojo?!”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable answer for this, but you’ll have to come down to the station…”

Deadfoot readies himself for combat. “Oh, Nemesis is gonna get it for turnin’ this town against me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t be responsible if you leave me no choice!”

Soon, the stranger known as Deadfoot is covered in pile of police officers, but manages to throw them off. Just as quickly they pile on again.

“I don’t care! Anyone! Some police drones or something!” An officer yells into a walkie-talkie. A few more police are flung past him. “Better send Citadel too, just to make sure.”

18 - No Baby, You're Money

“So…what’re you gonna do with that jetpack?” Teckstyle asks.

Flatfoot is seated on a rooftop overlooking Peregrine Island. He’s currently cradling it like a child. “I will love it, and pet it, and call it George.”

“Right, you do that, just-just in your own free time, ok?” Teck says uncomfortably. “Focus on the job at hand.”

“You know,” Flat says, looking up from cooing at the jetpack. “This isn’t what I imagined when I signed onto this gig.”

“What do you mean?”

“Its just…well, stakeouts just seem beneath heroes of our caliber,” Flat says. “I mean, we teamed up with Santa. I’d say that qualifies us for the big leagues. This seems like a job for a brooding vigilante with daddy issues.”

“You’re just being impatient,” Teck says.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got Pong in your helmet.”

“And now I’ve got the entire library of Atari games, thanks to the big S,” Teck says smugly. “Came with the helmet.”

“Get out of here.”

“I’m serious. I’m scrolling through the library now. Oh wow, its even got Custer’s Revenge and E.T.”

“You’re not well, Teck,” Flat says, scooting away a few feet. “Seen any Carnies yet?”

“Not yet. It weird, usually they like recruiting in this neighborhood.”

“Yeah, about those Carnies. They don’t look like any I’ve ever seen before.”

“Ah,” Teck says. “You mean gap-toothed, misshapen mutants with mysterious stains on their clothes? Those are the strongmen.”

“I guess. Those masks give me the willies,” Flat says, shuddering.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Teck says, pointing down to an alley where a Master Illusionist hovers in the shadows. “Found one.”

“Though I gotta admit, that whole jester thing they’ve got going is pretty hot,” Flat says. “Does that make me some kind of freak?”

“No baby, you’re money.”

“You think I should go down there?”

“Whoa, hold on there. If you’re gonna go down there, I don’t want you going over there like the superheroes you see in the movies, like the guys who always ask nicely and say things like “for the good of the city.” That never works. I want you to go over there and be like the supervillains you see in the movies. I want you to go over there like you’re trying to conquer the earth like you’ve got a doomsday death laser and you ain’t afraid to use it.” Teck pats Flat on the shoulder pads. “You’re a bad man, a bad man.”

“Right,” Flat says, strapping on the jetpack and leaping into the air. He gets a few feet away from the building when the pack beeps and a digitized feminine voice says “Batteries low.”

The scrapper drops like a rock to the city streets below. Flat desperately pumps his legs at inhuman speed, trying to slow his fall. It doesn’t, but he manages to get his feet close to the wall of the building. By some miracle, he gets some traction and grins. Flat speeds up, dodging ledges and windows on his way to the ground.

“Slick,” Teckstyle says approvingly, watching this from above. Flat can’t hear him from all the wind rushing past his ears. As he reaches street level, Flat touches down in the alley, but a miscalculation in his speed doesn’t slow him down enough when he gets there and he streaks across the alley and up the wall of the next building. A few seconds later, Flat’s speed has gone down enough that gravity does the rest, and he crashes into a pile of garbage bags.

Flatfoot stands up and dusts himself off. He turns around to stare directly into the mask of the Illusionist. He jumps a little, but rallies. “Hi. What’s a nice lady like you doing in Peregrine Island?”

“What do you do?” she asks.

“Um. Super speed, heightened reflexes, that sort of thing.”

“No. I mean what do you do?”

“Oh. That. I’m an…archvillain. Yeah. Truth and justice can suck it,” Flat says.

“You look familiar…” the Illusionist says slowly.

“No way, I guarantee I’m new in town. I’m, uh, from another dimension. In space. And I want to conquer the world. Definitely want to do that.”

“What’s your faction?”

“The, uh, let’s see. The-” Think, Flat! Think! You’re a member of the Bikini Patrol, come up with something opposite of that! “The…Panty…Raiders. We’re new. Want to conquer the world. From space.” Flat winces.

“Oh that’s right!” the Illusionist says, recognition in her voice. “You already told me that the first time you met me!”

“Oh, well that’s--what?”

The Master Illusionist slaps him across the face. “And you haven’t called all week! I’ve been waiting by the phone day and night, but you never even remembered my name, I’ll bet!”

“N-no way lady, I’m totally new in town. Brand new. I’ve never met you.”

“Don’t play dumb with me Deadfoot! Changing your costume isn’t going to fool me!” The Illusionist hovers higher and begins casting phantoms.

All Teck can see from his perch are a few bright flashes of light, followed by an “Aaarrrgh!” He shakes his head and flies down. There’s no sign of Flatfoot in the alley. “Flat?” Teck asks.

“Mmmmphh!” The sound comes from a trashcan against a wall. Teck goes over to it and lifts the lid.

“So how’d it go?”

“She thought I met her already! And that my name was Deadfoot! Then I got beat up by illusions.”

“No shame in that…” Teck says, trying to brighten things up.

“Teck, I was beaten up by things that aren’t even real!”

Teckstyle grabs the handles of the trashcan and starts to fly away. “Come on, let’s get you back to base. I’m sure someone’s got a welding torch or the jaws of life or something.”

“This is degrading.”

“Quiet you, or I put the lid back on.”

Elsewhere, in a modest house in the suburbs, a man pulls a car into his garage and shuts the engine down. Its late at night, and he tries to wrestle a large bag out of his trunk as quietly as possible. Not with much success. He manages to carry the bag into the house and is stopped in the kitchen when the light flicks on.

“And what are you doing out this late at night?” his wife demands.

“Nothing, dear,” he says.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing…” he says.

The wife glares at him.

“Its just some RC car parts!”

She shakes her head. “You and your stupid toys.

The man begins carrying the bag down to the basement. “You’ll see, my dear. One day, you’ll see just what these stupid little toys can do!”

17 - Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus

Galaxy City is not the best known zone of Paragon City, especially among the newer heroes of the city. To the veterans though, it provides a relatively quiet, calm and stable section of town, with only a few Hellions, Clockwork and Vazhilok to worry about. There’s also an arena for pounding out frustrations.

There’s also a makeshift throne set up in front of the statue of the great Galaxy Girl. Sitting on it is a man in a red suit and a beard. A line of heroes stretches around the block.

"Ho ho ho," Teckstyle laughs as a catgirl jumps lightly onto his lap. "And what would you like for Christmas little girl?" The jollity of his voice is somewhat creepy thanks to the metallic tone of it.

"Tee hee," the catgirl says. "I wanna pair of pink claws to match my fur."

"Well, if you’ve been nice this year, then I’m sure you’ll find something special under the tree." Teck says. "Now off you go." He turns to an elf. "When’s the next break?"

"You’ve got time for one more," Flatfoot says, leaning over. Pointy ears have been taped to his head, and his costume is green and red.

"Right," Teck says and motions for the next hero. "Ho ho ho! Next please!"

A short Warshade runs and jumps onto Teck’s lap and looks around frantically.

"Ho ho ho! And what would you like, little boy?" Teck asks.

"You gotta help me Santa! Assassins are trying to kill me!" the Warshade screams.

"Umm…" Teck says. "Are you sure?"

"They’re coming this way!" the hero screams on Teck’s lap.

Flat looks around. "Is there any security around here?" he asks.

"Hey," the Warshade says. "You’re not Santa."

"Ho ho ho! Of course I am!"

"You’re beard’s held on with duct tape!" The hero looks around frantically. "There he is!" he screams.

"What? Where?" Teckstyle asks, looking around.

A Void Stalker steps out of the line and levels a quantum gun at the Warshade.

"Die Kheldian scum!" it screams and fires.

Teckstyle shoves the Warshade out of the way and fires at the assassin, sending him flying.
Teck looks around, fists glowing. "Nothing to see here, people. Santa’s gonna take a little break, then he’s going to be back, ok?"

The Warshade runs up and hugs Teck. "You really are Santa! Thank you!"

"Um. You’re welcome," Teck says. The Warshade then runs away. "Well Flat, how about that, eh?" Teck says. There’s no answer. "Flat?"

Flatfoot is lying several feet away on the ground, not moving.

"Flat??" Teck yells and flies over. "Speak to me buddy! Don’t go into the light!"

There’s no response from the scrapper. Teckstyle stands up, ripping the beard from his face. "I swear, on this day, you will be avenged. I will not rest until all Void Hunters are destroyed! Why did it have to be him?! He was two weeks away from retirement!!!"

"What are you talking about?" Flat asks, sitting up.

"Flat! How? You were shot!"

"No big deal. It didn’t hurt or anything."

"What?" Teck asks. "You don’t feel anything?"

"Well," Flat thinks. "I’m a little hungry…"

"That’s it?"

"I’m as surprised as you are," Flat says.

A gigantic explosion comes from Constellation Row. A familiar white shape looms in the distance. Flat & Teck look at each other, nod and rush off to it. A few seconds later, Flat speeds back to the throne and hangs an "Out to lunch. Be back soon" sign on it.

Flat catches up to Teck at the disturbance. "What’s the situation?"

"A pack of Winter Horde just came out of nowhere and started thrashing the block."

"Winter Horde?" Flat asks. "I thought those guys were toast?"

"Guess we just have to knock some sense into them," Teck says.

Teckstyle flies up to the face of the largest monster, a Blight, and starts shooting while Flatfoot jumps into a mob of Frostlings and starts swinging.

Minutes later, the two heroes are standing in the middle of a circle of appreciative citizens.
"Yeah! We jingle bell rocked their world!" Flat says.

"I can’t believe I lived long enough for you to say that," Teck moans. "Oh well, guess we’d better get back to the Santa station."

"That won’t be necessary," a voice says from above.

"Hey, nice Santa costume, mister," Flat says as a jolly looking fat man lands in front of them.
"I’ve been watching both of you very closely this year," the man says. "And while you haven’t been perfect, you have saved this city more than you’ve endangered it. You’ve disrupted the plans of the Council by destroying their base, you’ve brought in the dangerous Dr. Vazhilok, and saved the soul of some lady in Croatoa, not to mention you two have punished all the naughty villain groups out there for their misdeeds. I want you both to have these." The mysterious man hands the heroes two large boxes.

Teck holds his up to his head. "I don’t hear any ticking…"

"Go ahead, open them," the man says.

The two heroes rip into the packages, tossing the wrapping paper all over, then, remembering who they’re standing in front of, pick up the trash and throw it away.

"Hey, a brand new helmet! I‘ve been meaning to upgrade," Teck says, holding one up. "What’d you get Flat?"

"I…I don’t believe it," Flat says, pulling his gift out, a single tear of joy running down his face. it’s a jetpack. He quickly straps it on and starts zooming around the block. "WHEEEEEE!!!!!!" he yells gleefully before landing back in front of Santa.

"Ho ho ho," Santa laughs. I knew you’d enjoy the gifts, but I need to ask a favor from both of you."

"What is it?" Teck asks as Flat floats past him backwards, making swimming motions.

Santa leans in close to the blaster. "I’ve got to get to the Rogue Isles to deliver some presents to the well deserving boys and girls in Longbow, Wyvern and the Legacy Chain, but I need your help getting past the Arachnos guards there. Can you help me?"

Teck looks over to Flatfoot. "Whaddaya think Flat?"

"This guy gets me a jetpack? I’ll follow him anywhere."

"We’re in Santa. Arachnos won’t know what hit ‘em," Teck says.

A few seconds later, Santa, Flatfoot & Teckstyle are flying over Kings Row on their way out to sea. After they pass an alleyway, a purple flash of light and a yell signals the arrival of something falling into a dumpster. The shape crawls out and looks around. "What the heck was that?" he asks in a voice much like Flatfoot’s. The figure looks a lot like Flatfoot too, only wearing black instead of blue. His eyes are disturbingly lacking in pupils. "How’d I get here from Dark Astoria?"

...To be continued...

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."

15 - Helmullet

"Well, Kid Flatfoot’s in traction, so he’s out of my hair for a while," Flatfoot says proudly.

"How lucky for me," Teckstyle grumbles. "So how come you’re up and about?"

"Fortunately, I’m an elusive kind of guy."

"Uh-huh."

"And the Devouring Earth standing over me took the brunt of the blast."

"That sounds more like it." Teck nods in satisfaction.

"I believe the proper term is ‘atomized’."

"You don’t say. So why are you here?"

"Eh, you know, exploring. Doing the grand tour of the area." Flat says innocently.

"So you came to the creepiest part of the city?" Teck asks skeptically.

Flat looks around the foggy street. "Nah, Astoria’s just a…a transitional neighborhood. Sure is a lot of fog though."

"You heard Adamastor was around, didn’t you?"

"…Yes. I thought I’d do my part in defending the city from high level threats. I CAN handle high level threats, you know."

"You just wanted the badge, didn’t you?"

"…Yes. But that doesn’t mean I still can’t handle world threatening dangers."

"Well, you just missed Adamastor."

"What?!"

"Yep. Fella went down like a bag of meat," Teck says, then pauses. "Come to think of it, he was just a bag of meat."

"I missed it?"

"Afraid so."

"Man." Flat grumbles and sits down on the street. Its not like he has to worry about traffic in Dark Astoria.

"Hey," Flat says. "How come the pedestrians fade away when I run up to them?"

"They’re dead Flat. Those are just ghosts." Teck replies.

"Huh. Guess the neighborhood’s more transitional than I thought. You know, that Manticore guy’s got lots of money, maybe he should try and clean the neighborhood up."

"That doesn’t seem likely. The zombie infestation’s way to big right now. Maybe in a couple of years." Teck says, floating a little higher and looking off in the distance.

"I guess. Hey, how come Icons doesn’t have a helmet style like his? I bet it’d be a killer seller for them." Flat says.

"Why?" Teck’s starting to get frustrated with the scrapper.

"Think of all groupies we could pick up with helmets like that." Flat says eagerly.

"It looks like a mullet." Teck says coldly. "I’m not wearing a mullet."

"Correction. A helmullet."

"A what?"

"Helmet mullet. Helmullet. Providing ten times as much protection for the skull as a regular mullet. Also, you never have to worry about hairspray."

Teck wisely ignores him. "I hear music."

"I don’t- Oh, wait, yes I do. What’s that light way over there?"

Teck’s helmet beeps as he zooms in with a pair of built in binoculars. "Its coming from a giant Tiki statue."

"You’re kidding."

"Nope. And its surrounded by zombies. And there’s a guy on drums."

"I’m gonna check it out," Flat says, streaking away. Teck pauses, sighs, then follows.

Flat’s looking around the corner to the scene down the street. A large Totem is standing in the center, glowing an unholy green light. A Shaman stands in front of it, beating a strange rhythm on a drum, and a group of zombies stand in a circle, chanting.

"What’re they chanting, Flat?" Teck asks.

The scrapper jumps up in alarm, turns around mid air, and lands in a fighting stance. "Ahhh!" he yells. "Oh, its you. They’re chanting about some kind of booger guy."

"I see," Teck says. "Say, it might be just me, but I’ve got a sudden craving for boat drinks."

"You too, huh?" Flat says. "Well, guess I’ll go over there and see if they got any hurricanes."
Teck watches Flat walk up to the Shaman and start talking to him. Sure enough, the Shaman motions with his hands and a swirling cloud of wind surrounds him, blowing Flat away. The Tiki statue swings an arm and flings splinters as Flat stands up and starts to run back to the corner. The zombies begin to follow him, as only zombies can.

"For Lhu Ghe Bu!" the Shaman shouts.

"What happened?" Teck asks as Flat passes him.

"I’m just glad I didn’t ask for a ‘sex on the beach’. Now run!" Flat says. "Or fly, or whatever it is you do!"

"Ok. I don’t think they’ll think to look for us here," Flat says in a ditch in the Hollows. He’s watching a group of Trolls a little further off walk up. Two of them have drums.

"I hear music again," Teck says, watching the Trolls start playing. A few others sit down while more start dancing.

"Look at those Trolls go," Flat says in appreciation.

"Got a pretty good beat too," Teck says.

"Hey!" Flat shouts. "Play ‘Freebird’!"

The ground opens up beneath them as a half-dozen Igneous jump out and trample Flat & Teck. Then they run off down the ravine.

"You know Teck," Flat says, spitting out a clod of dirt. "I get the feeling someone doesn’t like me."

14 - Stupid Reflexes

Atlas Park, the landmark of Paragon City. Its dominated by a giant statue of the late hero Atlas, and its usually the first awe-inspiring sight of many for rookie heroes new to the city.

Slightly less awe-inspiring is the sight of one scrapper flexing at the foot of the statue.

"What are you doing?" Teckstyle says, floating in front of the scrapper, arms folded.

"Just showing all the rookies just how awesome it is to be a veteran. Gives them something to look forward to, you know?" Flatfoot says, flexing a modest bicep.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Wouldn’t want to disillusion them or anything."

Flatfoot flexes his delts as a young defender walks by, ignoring him.

"Trying to work off debt, huh?" Teck asks.

"Er. Yeah."

"Do tell."

"Well, you know how medical costs are going through the roof…Well, I’m looking for some lucky newbie who wants to learn the ropes. From me."

"You are a cruel and unusual person. You know that, right?"

"Hey," Flat says, shrugging. "I’m not dead yet. Must be doing something right. What are you doing here? I thought after that whole ‘alpha strike’ incident, you weren’t allowed to show your face here?"

Teck taps his helmet with a metallic clang. "I’m not showing my face here."

"A mere technicality."

"I’m good at those. No, I’m here to see a city representative, something about a key to the city or something."

Flat crosses his arms. "Uh-huh."

"And, uh, to work off some debt."

"Well, there you are…"

"Hey, whatever happened to that stupid hat of yours?" Teck asks.

"Oh that? The wind blew it away one day while I was running through the streets. Physics or something…" Flat says, looking around, then trailing off. "Wait…No. It can’t be!"

"What?" Teck asks, looking around quickly.

"Its HIM!!!" Flat points in terror to an approaching figure.

"Hello Mr. Flatfoot! I’ve been looking all over for you!!" waves the approaching scrapper.

"Hello…Kid…Flatfoot…" Flat manages weakly.

"Boy its sure great to see you! I’ll bet you’ve got all kinds of stories to tell of your great adventures!"

"Um. Yeah. I was, um, trapped. For a while. In Oranbega." Flat says, trying to edge away.

"Really??" Kid Flatfoot says, eyes wide behind his goggles.

"Yeah…Totally."

"Well that’s great!!" Kid Flat explodes. "With your know-how of we’ll be able to storm through their city with ease! Why, I’ll bet we could even rescue Sam Wincott from the Igneous!"

"Yeah…that’s…that’s great."

"This is gonna be great! You’re my idol, you know! Ever since that day when I got my powers, I’ve wanted to be just like you!"

"Mission accomplished kid," Teckstyle says smugly.

"Shut up Teck," Flat mutters.

"Hey, I just won a costume contest, what does that get me, Mr. Flatfoot?"


Several agonizing hours later, Flat and his sidekick are sprinting through Steel Canyon.

"Hey, you wanna know how I got out of Faultline?" Kid Flatfoot asks eagerly.

"Um-"

"Well, after you left to go save the city, I ran around the cracks trying to find the Circle of Thorns’ hideout, when I ran into a group of them up to no good. So I rushed them. I managed to get their would-be victim away, but they took me down and I teleported to the hospital."

"Well. Aren’t we all lucky to have the teleporters." Flat says darkly.

"Boy, I’m just so glad I got powers like yours. Having super reflexes is just great, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I like it. Not getting hit feels pretty good."

Kid Flatfoot, distracted, trips over a trash can and tumbles into a dumpster. Flat stops and waits for him to stand up.

"I just wish I could dodge things as well as you," Kid Flat says, standing up. He fails to notice a banana peel on his shoulder.

"Oh, it takes time and experience to get really good at not getting hit. And even then, you won’t be perfect. Look at me, I’m a hero to millions, and I still get knocked down every now and then." Flat pauses. "Come to think of it, usually when I’m with Teckstyle."

"Why’s that?" Kid Flat asks.

"Bah, that jerk’s always distracting me with his know-it-all, ‘I shoot blue stuff at people’ attitude."

"Jealous?"

"Why should I be? Just cuz he can fly and has range?" Flat says, clenching his teeth.

"So why do you two always team up?" Kid Flat asks innocently.

"Well, the payoff’s usually pretty good, the job gets done, and he’s a damn good blaster, no question about that."

"Then why isn’t there a Kid Teckstyle?"

"I shudder to think what that would be like," Flat says quietly.

"What?""Nothing. Problem he gets sometimes is that he keeps thinking he’s a tank."

Kid Flatfoot’s eyes grow wide behind his goggles. "You mean he’s not a tank?!"

Flatfoot rubs the bridge of his nose. "Oy." He picks the peel off Kid Flat and tosses it on the ground. "You’ve got a banana on your shoulder."

The plucky teen sidekick taps him on the shoulder. "Look! A building’s on fire across the street! We’ve got to stop it!"

Flat looks across to the blazing structure. "Um. Shouldn’t trained professionals be handling that?"

"We’re professionals!" Kid Flat yells enthusiastically.

"What are we gonna do? Kick the flames out?"

"There’s a fireman over there handing out extinguishers," Kid Flat points out.

"That doesn’t make sense!" Flat says. "Why would a fireman be making other people do his job for him? City Hall’s going to get an angry letter about this--" Flat says, taking a step forward.
Two seconds later he’s lying on his back, writhing and rubbing his lower back. "[censored] banana!"

"C’mon, get up! The fire’s getting worse!" Kid Flat urges.

A loud thumping, like the sound of really large feet running reaches the duo. A few moments later, five very large stone creatures trample them on their chase of another hero. Flat and his sidekick lie on the ground in agony.

"What were those?" Kid Flat asks.

"Devouring Earth."

"Why did they trample us?"

"I don’t know, but it’s the second time that’s happened to me," Flat says, surly. "Oh great, now one’s coming back." A small Rubble runs up to Flat and starts kicking him. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Stop it!"

Meanwhile, the fire grows and grows until it finally reaches a gas line. The resulting explosion shatters the Rubble, but also sends people flying for blocks.

When the dust clears, flatfoot, still lying on the ground, but in a different location thanks to the blast, raises one index finger. "Ok, that time was totally not my fault!"

13 - Turret Syndrome

Conspiracy theorists love to think up elaborate schemes about how a secret cabal of mysterious figures actually rule the world from behind the scenes. This is a well known fact. Slightly lesser known is that these theories are usually spelled out over a bag of cheese curls. A city like a Paragon, is one of the few places where such theories are usually far less elaborate than things really are.

"So…the Skulls are making Superadine and dealing it to the trolls because of the Family?" Flat asks slowly.

"Yeah, that’s about right." Teckstyle answers.

"Sounds complicated."

"Wait till you hear about the Hellions."

"What about the Hellions?"

"I did say you’d have to wait."

"Well that’s no fun."

"All I can say right now is that they’re the real power in this city."

"No way."

"Way." Teck paused to let it sink in. "And there’s some people out there that say this city, the whole world was actually made by a strange group of all powerful beings called Devs, who can change things that…displease them."

Flat bursts into laughter. "That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Next you’ll tell me that they can erase someone’s name."

"They can."

"Come on man, stop it! I’m gonna wet myself from laughing."

"Its true! Haven’t you noticed that controllers have a lot fewer pets nowadays? And that blasters hurt a lot more sometimes? How come Arachnos, which is supposed to be this great big threat, just came out of nowhere? Why didn’t we go to the Rogue Isles before now?"

Flat doesn’t answer. He’s rolling on the floor, holding his sides. "Stop, please stop! You’re killin’ me!"

Teck crosses his arms and waits for the laughing to stop. "Are you done now?" he asks when the laughter stops.

"Yeah, totally," Flat says, standing up and suppressing a giggle. "What’re we fighting this time?"

"The Malta Group have planted a few bombs in a warehouse and plan to frame a hero for the explosion."

"Sounds like them. When does the hitting start?"

"Well, there’s that group over there, for starters."

"Well, guess I’ll just go on over there-"

"Wait," Teck says. "Let me take out that sapper over there first."

"The what now?"

"Sapper. Guy with a funky backpack and a gun that disables your powers for a little bit."

"Fine, whatever." Flat says and steps back.

Teck takes aim and knocks the sapper flat on his back. Immediately, the group of Malta begin shouting and cursing.

"Wallhacker!" an engineer shouts, pulling a rifle on Teck.

A few seconds later, Teck’s holding a gunslinger by his collar and shouting at him.

"Where are the bombs!" he yells in the Malta agent’s face.

"STFU AWP camper!" the gunslinger yells back, then bites down on something and goes limp.

"Blast!," Teck yells, dropping the agent. "Suicide pill!"

Flat bends down and examines the gunslinger. "Nope. Tic tac."

"What?"

Flat points at the agent. "See. He’s still breathing, and his breath’s minty fresh." Flat prods the agent in the side with his foot. Its greeted by a soft grunt.

Teck throws his hands up in the air and starts walking down the hallway. "Right. Fine. We’ll go find them ourselves."

"You know," Flat says, catching up. "I just don’t really equate commandos with the island of Malta. Falcons? Yes. Knights of? Yes. I just can’t accept giant robots with it."

"Look, its just a name. Its not like every one of these guys is actually Maltese."

Flat thinks about that for a minute. "…But wouldn’t it be crazy if they were? I mean, all these high tech weapons and robots coming from that tiny little island."

"Yes, yes," Teck says, trying to ignore the scrapper.

"Wow, I guess it really is the ones you least suspect," Flat says, shaking his head. "You think you know a Mediterranean island."

They searched on in silence for a bit, disarming two of the bombs.

"You know what I don’t get?" Teck asks. "How they can get those little turrets up so fast."

"Pre-fab. They come in a spring-loaded box. Pull a lever and boing. Instant turret."

"Really?" Teck asks, looking at Flat like he just started speaking Dutch.

"Yeah, they can work wonders with miniaturization these days."

"…And you know all of this…how?"

"Saw it on TV."

"Really?"

"Well, the reception wasn’t that great on the set I was watching. During commercial breaks the headman would be screaming at me a lot, but I got the gist of it."

"Right. Sorry I asked." Teck says wearily.

The silence returned until a third bomb was disabled.

"You know, I’d rather these guys were from Yalta," Flat says eventually. "That way they’d get the whole Soviet thing going for them."

"True. Beating up commies is almost as rewarding as beating up Naz-, er, fascists. Hey, go take out that sapper there."

Flat rushes forward and manages to take down the sapper, but not before a stray shot hits the blaster.

"You didn’t take out that sapper fast enough," Teck admonishes.

"Hey, wow. You’re all glowy and blue now," Flat says, ignoring the sentence. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I’m fine, no damage. All systems are down though, and I’m really tired for some reason."

"Well, take a nap then. I can handle those two Hercules titans over there while you rest."

Teck sits down and Flat rushes over to the two bots. After landing a few well placed hits on them, one jumps onto the other. Flat’s eyes go wide in terror and he rushes back to Teck.
"Teck, wake up! We got a problem!" he shouts.

"Whu-?" Teck asks, standing up and trying to rub his eyes through his helmet. He gives up when he can’t.

"The two titans just powerlinked!"

"Say what?"

"I hit them a couple of times, then they made a beast with two backs! Then started firing missiles at me!"

"What kind of missiles?"

"Big ones!"

"That’s not fair," Teck says as the Zeus titan rounds the corner.

"Look, you can see the top one’s legs dangling back there. Heh, actually, its kinda cute."

Teck turns to Flat. "We’ve got to fight fire with fire. Flat, let me stand on your shoulder!"

"What? No way! Flatfoot powerlinks with no man!"

"Well, got any better ideas then?"

"Run away before a third one joins up."

"Why are you so freaked out by this?"

"So you admit you’re a robo-philiac!"

"Stop dodging my question."

"Sorry, dodging’s my only defense. I had a bad experience with the Clockwork Queen a while back."

"There is no-"

"Different dimension. I’d rather not talk about it."