“Next time, don’t schedule the shipment so late.” Big Dino warned his henchmen.

“Boss, we can’t move our product in the daylight. You know it’s especially difficult to avoid the cops when you’re around. Imagine doing this with pedestrians around, we’d be up at PrisonHead before making a dollar.”

Big Dino growled in response, knowing his man was right, but still feeling inconvenienced. There was a trivia show that night that he was playing along with, though how he framed it to his crew was that he had a ‘score to settle’.

Unloading trucks back at the warehouse, the mobsters were incapacitated. The world went dark for Big Dino and a bright light shone in front of him. He knew what was to come.

“REPENT.” spoke the powerful voice.

“You gonna haunt me like a ghost or something? I don’t owe you anything.” Big Dino was dismissive of the one who brought him to the world of man.

The light disappeared and all the stunned henchmen awoke, discussing briefly and then back to work. It was not over, however.

This time, the men were not taken out. Light filled the hideout, illuminating all the criminal activities taking place. Drugs, weapons, stolen items and money filled the room. Light began to fade to reveal the source. 

A man stood on the air, eyes glowing bright white, with a staff, at the end of which was a luminous, floating orb. His features were obscured by the light, but his face was greatly displeased.

“LOWEST OF ALL LIFE.” the room shook with his voice and light spread from him in a wave across the room. All of the men were knocked back, as the power was clearly not a final measure, more of signaling them for their chance to run.

All the henchmen looked to Big Dino and his steadfast position gave them reason not to take the opportunity. Instead, guns were tossed to each man, and Big Dino smiled.

“Get him outta here.”

With the boss’s command, the being of light was peppered with bullets. He made no effort to stop or even slow any of the barrage. Instead, his facial features lightened up for a moment. It seemed the retaliation was so futile, it was humorous.

Unharmed, the being removed all bullets from his skin and clothing. Metal in a flash turned to even brighter specks of light. Then, with a motion of the staff, they were all sent out, penetrating every single henchman. From their lifeless bodies, light shone through the holes left behind. Big Dino, scowling in the distance, was not touched.

“See that?” he pointed to the wall behind him, which also had holes of light. Curiously, they were in his exact outline. “No wonder you’re trying to convince me to repent. You can’t touch me.” Big Dino menacingly walked towards the man of light. “But I’m willing to put money on this, friend. I can touch YOU.” He dropped to all fours and charged the corner where the being stood. 

Before reaching the corner, it was dark for a moment until the light reappeared behind him.

“REPENT.”

“You’re panicking.” Big Dino charged again.

“REPENT” the building shook violently.

“Name my sin, firefly.” the dinosaur composed himself and returned to two legs, noticing his suit was all torn up.

“MUR-” while speaking, he was interrupted by the horns of Big Dino.

Pinned against the wall, the two locked eyes.

“Under this suit… I’m still a dinosaur, but under all that light, you’re still just a man.”

Big Dino began to press into the being, who was gripping his staff still. His power couldn’t intervene with the dinosaur again, but his body could. He slammed the orb against the side of the mob boss’s head, causing him to stumble and in that moment, teleported away.

“That’s right, altar boy.” Big Dino mocked the fleeing deity. He checked the clock and sat on the couch, just in time for his trivia. He’d worry about staffing back up another time.

On a quiet night at the Big City Port, a legendary hero from a faraway land stepped foot onto the boat of a notorious criminal. From afar, he was monitored by a local hero, Beaverclaw, who suspected him of nefarious acts.

Beaverclaw held his hands like binoculars over his eye mask, scoping out the situation. The giant in lederhosen was viewed laughing boisterously at something said by Puff, who was known for his violent, reactive nature.

The duo and Puff’s posse entered the boat and left the sight of Beaverclaw, who began to swing from tree to tree, using only his teeth to grasp branches. He wondered if his hunch was right, if the mysterious beer that indirectly killed his brother was a product of Bierguardian’s false heroism. Was he just a fraud? Though Beaverclaw idolized the old man as a boy, he couldn’t allow the world to go on believing he was good.

Beaverclaw set off to expose Bierguardian’s facade, revealing his true intentions and criminal behavior. He landed on the boat’s deck and unleashed his dagger-like claws, tearing off the faces of a couple of unarmed guards. With a whack of his tail, he silenced them and forced them into the river below.

Down the stairs Beaverclaw followed, hearing more laughter and then an abrupt silence. As he crept along, he heard a single SLAM. Around a corner, he heard footsteps. He swung his tail at near top speed and it was halted with ease by the oaken shield of Bierguardian.

“Beaverman!” Bierguardian smiled and shouted. He held in one hand a locked metal case, his famous spigot stuck into his waistband. “I saw you on the TV!”

“What?” the Claw paused his investigation upon hearing this news. “What do you mean?”

“Yes!” replied the jolly giant.

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

“What is happening?”

“Your parents want you home. They say, ‘COME HOME BABY BOYS’ all over TV and then they show videos of you covered in beavers.”

“Boys?”

“Yes! Your brother. They say, ‘BLAKE BRING HOME OTHER BABY BOY’.”

“So they don’t know.” Beaverclaw sat on a stair, suspending the situation to converse with the Guardian. “Brett went down with the yacht. I was the only survivor.”

“I’m so sorry, friend. How did this happen?”

Beaverclaw stood, remembering why he was there. “What does ‘Hoffenjofferbrostlbach’ mean to you?”

“Ahh yes. This was a traditional lager when I was still… When I was younger.”

“Who brewed it. Was it you?”

“No. Only the Brewmaster could create such beauty. Me? I drink, Blake Baxter.”

“Where is this Brewmaster? That beer killed my brother.”

“Impossible. The last bottle of Hoffenjofferbrostlbach was sold to the Big City Museum. That’s a relic of the old country.”

Beaverclaw considered the implications of this revelation.

“Why are you here and what is in that case?”

“OH HAHAHA.” Bierguardian laughed from his chest, realizing how the situation must look to a young hero. “Worry not, Beaver Blake!”

Bierguardian motioned for the Claw to follow and they entered the room where Puff was lying on the floor. He had clearly puffed up real big and been struck by the big man, as his body was deflated across the entire room.

“I came to take this!” Bierguardian raised the metal case to show Beaverclaw. “It’s some silly weapon or something.”

Beaverclaw felt embarrassed doubting the legendary hero. Noticing this, Bierguardian offered support. “I can help you find the Brewmaster… If that is truly what you want.” His tone was quiet and fearful. 

Beaverclaw lit up and looked up at Bierguardian, saying with pure determination, “It is.”

“I must warn you, young hero, there is something….someone, that is always at his side. Something infinite. Someone sinister.” he continued on with an eerie tone, in complete contrast to his usual demeanor.

“That’s okay.” Beaverclaw started walking out of the ship paying literally 0 attention to Bierguardian’s warning. The big man followed happily.

“At least my identity is still a secret.” Beaverclaw stated.

“What? No, they know you are Beaverman.”

“They think I’m Beaverman.”

“Okay!”

Beaverclaw and Bierguardian set off to locate Brewmaster and put an end to his wicked brews.

Bianca closed up the bakery later than usual, after a low traffic day. She cleaned the counters and the floors thoroughly, then packed up whatever leftovers she had. It was getting more and more difficult to keep the shop as her landlord raised the rent. People were going to the big grocery stores, like HungryWay for their baked goods. Thankfully, her large group of loyal daily customers would never choose to go elsewhere.

As she went to lock the door, she watched the beloved bakery cat, Butters, run into the alleyway through his cat door. Curious, she thought, so she walked around the corner to see what he was doing. He was often off on his own out of sight, but she’d never seen him leave the shop that late.

Butters paced in circles in the alleyway as if looking for a spot to sleep. He jumped onto the dumpster and sniffed the open side. With a disgusted cough, he tumbled off the top and fell onto the floor theatrically.

“Butters!!” Bianca shouted at the briefly knocked out cat, dropping everything to check on him. She knelt over him and felt his little cat chest to make sure he was breathing. He was truly just being dramatic, but she couldn’t tell. “Butters, Butters!!” She shouted a couple more times and at the final call, she was blasted out of the alleyway and into the street.

Though confused, Bianca had enough sense to see a car quickly approaching. She raised a hand and blasted buttercream towards the street to propel herself back at the bakery. With a gentle landing, she peered into the alley again to sort out what happened. Butters was gone.

Bianca ran back into the shop and into the back room, now convinced someone attacked her and stole Butters. She spun around and adorned the full BakeSale getup. From the cakes in the cooler she was inspired to wear a lemon loaf instead of her traditional cake mask, she felt it was more fitting to search for her yellow cat in his own color.

Out the back door of the shop, BakeSale flew through the air, covering the ground behind her in delicious icing. She followed the alley a few blocks and then looked around when she saw a more crowded street. This late at night, not many people were out, so she figured it would be easy to spot someone smuggling a cat.

Across the street, behind a seafood restaurant, she saw a large shadow being cast. She flew down quickly, feeling that this was the culprit.

“AHA!” BakeSale shouted, producing cream-filled croissants, which she launched at the giant’s back. Each small pastry knocked the yellow giant forward a little. It turned and BakeSale saw its face covered in tuna scraps. The pastries embedded in its back exploded and the cream went everywhere, though the giant didn’t react.

BakeSale threw more and more pastries, but the giant covered in fish just opened its mouth wide and enjoyed the snacks. She grew furious and decided to switch up her attack. She summoned dough and worked it in her hands for a moment to produce a dough-boy. It stood on the ground and grew from powerful yeast that BakeSale imbued within it.

The yellow giant wiped the fish scraps into its mouth and stood, upset that no more pastries were flying at it. BakeSale squinted at the giant and recognized the face of the beast. 

“Butters?!” She questioned with maximum confusion.

Butters looked at BakeSale, sniffed, and knew who she was. He shrunk back into cat form and walked between the legs of the giant dough-boy into her arms. Dough-boy fell apart, its mission over before it began.

“Buddy, I never knew.”

“Meow.”

The two returned to the bakery and Bianca spoke to him about all of her heroics. She fed him pastries as the sun came up and prepped to reopen the bakery.

Her first customer wore sunglasses and a mask, a first timer for sure. Bianca couldn’t stop looking at his midsection, which seemed to be an odd shape.

“Excuse me, miss. I’ll take a box of assorted pastries.” he looked up from the display case for the first time to see the baker’s face. “Do I… know you from somewhere?” He asked, almost seeming to get emotional.

Bianca was worried that the man recognized BakeSale and worried for her secret identity. She hid her face with a baking sheet and ran to the back room. “We’re all out of pastries, sir.”

The man shrugged, looking at the abundance of sweets before him. Butters rubbed against the man’s leg and received a loving pet on the back. 

“Uhh, I’ll come back then.” he said as he left the store.

“Please don’t.” Bianca whispered behind the wall, though he was already outside. She couldn’t shake the strange feeling she had. She recognized him too.

Otis’ foe had eluded him for far too long. Even with the advanced capabilities of the craft he was trapped within, finding the alien felt an impossibility. An enticing thought came to him as he hovered above a small town; what if the ship could locate members of the alien species who built it? There were certainly enough buttons and switches for that to be one of the functions.

With a sigh of resignation to this idea, Otis flipped a switch he hadn’t tested before. The ship instantly started to move. “First time’s the charm” he thought. A few hundred feet away, the autopilot stopped in front of a restaurant and Otis looked below. Could he have been that close already?

A beam projected from the center of the ship’s bottom, lifting something up and holding it there. Otis grinned and piloted the ship to a rooftop where he landed and moved the tractor beam so it would hold his victim in place.

“Hey man, my whole family watched that. Everyone saw you and your ship, you should probably just go. They’re very litigious.”

Otis shook his head and flipped what he thought was the same switch. This one sent out a drone that probed the man, who was left stranded on the rooftop as Otis found the correct switch.

Again, testing out the different abilities of the ship, one of the buttons was actually slightly different. There seemed to be an opening beside it with a slot for liquid. Otis rubbed his fingers on the edge of his pitchfork and dropped some of the dried alien blood down into the slot. He pushed the button and autopilot began. A screen showed up, showing a bulbous figure on a radar. He had done it.

Otis zoomed across the planet and toward Big City. It was so obvious the alien would be in the metropolis, more space to blend in, more cover from the tall buildings, and enough freaks where it would fit in.

The target neared and the ship’s tractor beam was about to make contact with something below, when Otis heard a voice.

“Otis. Otis is that you?”

He would recognize that voice if it was ten miles underwater. It was his wife, Wanda. He stopped the beam and moved the ship to hover beside her. She wasn’t the same, however. The alien experiments on his crops had changed her into something.. Alien. Some kids walking by pointed and shouted to their parents, “Hey look, it’s Wumpus!!” They took a selfie with the purple monster and carried on.

“Honey, come home. I’m sorry.” Wumpus pleaded. “We can’t throw away a lifetime together over one mistake.”

“Wand- Wumpus, I can’t. For so many reasons, I can’t.” Otis let out a long breath and lowered his head. He was mainly referencing being stuck inside the small ship with a jammed door, unable to exit, even if he wanted. Wumpus believed there was more to it.

The purple monster rooted into the ground, her feelings deeply hurt by Otis’ swift rejection. She grew a few sizes and then rose from the pavement. “Let’s go home, Otis.” Wumpus had a surprisingly commanding voice, for an alien eggplant beast.

“Sorry, honey.” Otis piloted the ship away, engaging the hyper thrusters to make a quick escape. A moment before release, he saw something odd on the sidewalk. A noodly alien in a jumpsuit with a laser blaster in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other sauntered by. He checked his radar, nothing. The one that got away was not of the same species, that was clear to him now by its appearance. He disengaged the ship and attempted to get closer.

“HOME!”

Wumpus screeched like a space whale, wrapping the ship in her stalk arms. She lost herself in her love for Otis. The target below noticed the commotion and panicked, running away immediately. Frustrated, Otis reengaged his thrusters, burning the dry arms of Wumpus, though they grew back instantly.

Through the city the craft weaved, chasing down the alien, not letting it out of sight for more than a moment.

Wumpus screamed, rampaging behind, rolling through the street with no concern for civilians below. 

“OTIS! I LOVE YOU OTIS!”

The ruckus and damage drew the attention of nearby heroes. Out of a bakery BakeSale blasted towards Wumpus, propelled by delicious buttercream.

“Take a sec, sis!” she yelled to the monster, though she didn’t slow a bit.

From an alleyway leapt Butters, standing in front of the giant purple bulb, holding strong with kitty force. He grabbed from his shorts a ball of yarn, unraveling it to wrap Wumpus in place. With Bakesale’s braids of dough as well, the monster was held still. From above, Duperman descended, smiling as if he helped.

“Great job, team.” BakeSale and Butters heaved for air, looking at Duperman with puzzled expressions. “I feel like I missed something.”

“You missed everything.” BakeSale responded. Butters licked his paws and returned to the alley beside the bakery.

“I hope she didn’t kill anyone, yikes. I know from experience, that is bad for your image.” Duperman stated.

“Hey, why don’t you go check on those other guys?” BakeSale suggested, ready to return to civilian life.

“Sure.” Duperman looked around for a bit to find who she was talking about. She pointed down one street to give him direction. 

Otis finally reached his foe. The noodly alien was caught in the tractor beam and the farmer could finally finish what he started.

“You’re not like the others, what are you a mutant or som’n?” Otis asked.

“I am not. I had infiltrated their ship.” the alien replied.

“Is that right? Well, to me, an alien’s an alien unless it’s human.” Otis moved to press a button and eliminate the alien.

“Wait, wait. I have to return to my family. I shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s your name, son?”

“I am Limbis Kwungo.”

“Well Limbo, I know something about family. Those are the only ones who can really hurt ya.”

Otis again moved towards the button, this time interrupted by more than words. The tractor beam retracted and Limbis ran away quickly. The ship slammed into the side of a building, and Otis looked to see what happened.

Outside the window, Duperman floated with a smirk, he fixed his cape and looked Otis in the eye, smiling wider. They’d encountered each other on numerous occasions and had become acquainted.

“It’s so funny I was just talking about killing people, and I know, I KNOW you were going to kill that guy. I saw it in your eye. You were gonna press that button there and kill that guy.”

“Sure as heck was.”

“Otis, look.” Duperman’s face became elated. He flew to the side of the ship where the door was. “I broke it open. You’re not stuck anymore. You can leave the ship!”

Otis pulled the door shut as hard as he could and the ship started to ascend slowly.

Duperman drifted alongside slowly. “But, Otis, it’s open.”

“No. No it ain’t.” Otis replied with a cold stare, jetting off into the sky. As he flew, he grabbed from his pocket a picture of himself with Wanda many years before and wiped tears from his eyes.

A time came when Dracula’s Dog grew bored of his painfully empty castle. Though he planned to return some day, he briskly exited through the front door, where he stopped to remember his first time entering. Visions of his master flooded his puppy mind. Tremendous sadness and loss filled his heart. Standing in the doorway, he growled. He growled at the castle. He growled at himself. He growled, hoping Dracula would just return.

Dracula’s Dog left his frustrations at the castle entryway. He marched down the hill and through the town below. It had modernized quite a bit since he first lived there. Many blood donors he attracted over the many years bowed as he strolled down the street, honoring the adorable dog they worshiped. Others hid, heeding the legends of the vampiric menaces of the castle.

Away from the town past an expansive field of fading green and stone ruins sat a poorly kept graveyard. Headstones crumbled away into piles of rubble below. Most of the etched lettering was gone, weathered away. Dracula’s Dog stepped up to each of the graves, feeling drawn to them. A bouquet of flowers left by a loved one had rolled away from the wind. Dracula’s Dog didn’t know where it belonged, so he spent some time giving a single flower to each plot.

Placing the final flower, Dracula’s dog heard a voice approaching, as well as slow, methodical drumming that was almost too low to be audible. He was curious, but instinctually ran to hide behind a mausoleum.

“This is it, Tumbo. Dracula’s grave. This is why I dragged you all the way here, big guy.” Dracula’s Dog viewed around the side of the exquisite stone, nearly barking in excitement hearing that this was where his master laid to rest. Two large men were looking at the mausoleum; one tall with a long trench coat and the other a monster of a human.

“This?” Tumbo probed, coming from before the Dracula’s fame had spread.

“I gotta be honest here. This is a major shot in the dark. I don’t know if this guy’s even in here. If he is, I’m not a hundred percent sure I could raise him, powerful as he was.” Tombs confessed.

Dracula’s Dog, listening in, leapt out from behind the mausoleum and flew towards Tombs. Neither of the men budged. Desperate to reunite with his master, he bit Tombs’ coat and pulled him towards the entrance.

“Hold on there, little guy.” Tombs chuckled and waved his mace at Dracula’s Dog, intending to allow him to speak. Dracula’s Dog felt a tickle, but no effect. “Yeah I didn’t think that would work.” Tombs laughed and pet the pup, being friendly along with analyzing the material around him.

Tombs’ brow hardened and he grabbed the robe, trying to pull it off of Dracula’s Dog, who in return vanished for a moment to bite the tall man in the neck. Tumbo beat his drum, blasting Dracula’s Dog and Tombs across the field, followed by the rubble from the floor and many headstones.

Dracula’s Dog raised from the floor and flew to Tumbo, biting him on the neck as well. Then, he backed off and stood at the mausoleum entry, now protecting it. He waited, growling as Tombs rejoined the standoff, hoping they would both be turned quickly. Tombs gave a signal for Tumbo to relax and spoke to Dracula’s Dog.

“That’s not going to work, little guy. He’s already dead, and me… I got somethin else goin on.” 

Dracula’s Dog calmed down and realized the two meant him no harm. When Tombs approached again, however, he backed away, protecting the robe he wore.

“Ahh, I won’t try to take that again. I just wanted to be certain it was authentic. And that it is.” Tombs put up both hands, showing the pup that he was not coming for the robe again. He passed by and put a hand against the mausoleum door. “Let’s see if we can wake your daddy.”

The mausoleum door opened slowly. Night seemed to fall that very moment, but within the darkness of the structure was nothing. Dracula’s Dog barked into the empty room angrily as Tumbo and Tombs backed away. They stood waiting for him for a while, each knowing the appearance of true pain.

“What do you say we take him with us?”

“The dog?” Tumbo asked.

“Yes, the dog. We came here for his master, but he’s got all his master’s powers. Even better, he doesn’t talk.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Tumbo. You hate talking.”

“He can’t chew my drumsticks.”

“Of course not, big guy.”

A few more minutes passed before Dracula’s Dog came walking out of the mausoleum.

“Hey, vampire dog. You wanna join up with us and kill a demon?”

Dracula’s Dog ignored the question and began walking away from the graveyard.

“You can chew on his drumsticks.” Tombs pointed to Tumbo’s bones and skulls. Dracula’s Dog raised from the ground and flew to Tumbo, immediately gnawing on one of his drumsticks.

“Good boy.”

Following a police report and numerous reports, the being known as Gospel had become a common topic in Big City. Exposing the operations of a crime syndicate by shredding the walls of their warehouse with beams of light put a stop on major crimes for a few weeks. Many saw Gospel as a savior of the city, the first to challenge the new regime of wrongdoers, who were united under BD’s leadership.

Within the city, Gospel would appear sparingly. At moments of darkness, of pain, he would illuminate and heal. Over a short span of time, he amassed a following of adoring, devoted fanatics. They called themselves ‘The Children of Gospel’, and dressed all in white with black ties. Gospel himself was not totally unaware of the phenomenon, but had chosen to ignore it as it seemed benign.

Each month, in Big City Park, thousands gathered to meet and discuss the latest rumors and sightings of their deity. It was often a place for people with not much else to do to come and connect and find community. They rallied peacefully and spread the good word of Gospel’s many miracles.

The Children of Gospel became a more and more prominent force in the city. Traffic jams were caused by the white-clad righteous recruiting drivers unlucky enough to have had their window down.

“Gospel will be at our next meeting. He told us! You should come!” The overexcited woman handed the driver a pamphlet and held a smile that was much too wide. Gospel made no such claim, but that rumor spread quickly, and the thousands prepared to come to the meeting multiplied tenfold.

On the day of the meeting, in the park, so many people gathered that they bled out into the street. The rally was no longer a peaceful one. Those believing themselves more devoted were hostile towards those of a more casual fandom. Original members held a firm authority over the group, though it was wildly out of control. 

One civilian on the street gave the entire group something to unite over. He shouted from across the way, “Children is right!”

The simple, silly comment sparked mayhem in the blink of an eye. Many thousands of people charged across the street towards the man, many of which having no idea why. They reached the man and started to attack mercilessly. He whimpered on the ground until he fell silent. The mob didn’t stop. Those who were less aware believed they were going after non-believers. Down the street, they swarmed civilians and beat them to death.

Silence now fell on The Children themselves. Gospel shone above the park and the cloudy sky was filled with fading light. “He’s here!”, “It’s him!” “Gospel!!” These whispers filled the area until everyone realized their savior was not pleased.

“WICKED FOOLS.”

Reality rattled and infinite voices rang out in everyone’s minds. Gospel lifted the bodies of the five deceased with a motion of his staff and flew them to his side. His eyes, robes and orb began to take on a blackness which slowly grew.

“YOUR SINS WILL UNDO YOU.”

The bodies melted into purity, countless shards of light, spreading across the park slowly. Gospel moved his hand, launching the light of the first body towards the crowd, who began to run, screaming.

In the emptiness formed by the evacuation, the Sun God, Zol, stood tall, a staff similar to Gospel’s in hand. As the shards neared those near him, he flashed his staff and absorbed the light.

“No.” Zol commanded in every language, running forward and transforming into the golden bird of legend. He flew at a stunned Gospel, knocking the darkness into remission and carrying him away from the dispersing fanatics. As the two soared out of the city, they battled with their powers of light in the air.

Gospel teleported to the ground below and awaited Zol, who transformed back into a man.

“They are human, Gospel. You must guide them past their errors. They want you to lead them.”

“I cannot lead them. I’ve not grown from when I was human. In both lives, I fostered a flock of sin and weakness.”

“A shepherd would not cull his flock.” Zol gave Gospel a stern eye. “Your intentions are pure. Let them witness.” Zol stepped close to Gospel, who remained steady. He peeked into his eyes as if looking through a window. “That Darkness. That was not you. That, you should not foster.” Zol disappeared in a flash of sunlight.

Gospel phased back out of reality and into his vacuous white dimension between, standing ready to intervene wherever needed. He considered Zol’s warning, but constantly felt the darkness move within. Zol was wrong… it was him.

 

Charles Masters, a wealthy and high-powered man in Big City, flashed all the lights in the city off and back on ten times. This was the only way to get Duperman’s attention. Nine times, he ain’t coming. In the Cloud Corridor, where all the skyscrapers connected at their penthouses, Charles stood in a shimmering gray suit, smiling genuinely at the fast arrival of Duperman.

“Hello, Charles…” Duperman bowed politely at his host, “...hello Big City.” he bowed cordially at the 360 view of the metropolis. “What’s going on?” He asked curiously, clearly ready for anything.

“D, first of all, thank you for getting here so quickly.”

“Mmhmm.” Duperman nodded.

“The reason you are here, as I’m sure you’re aware, is to solve a bigger problem than I can myself.”

“Oooh.”

“There are beings gathering above the Earth who call themselves gods. In reality, I’m told they are the Imagine Dragons of their galaxy.”

“Ouch.”

“I need you to-” Charles was cut off by Duperman’s exit through the skylight.

Duperman returned with a purple head of an octopus-looking alien. He smirked at Charles, “Problem solved?”

“Uh, no, no, not solved. I don’t know what that is. Where’d you find that thing?”

“Oh no.” Duperman again exited through the skylight. He returned and showed Charles his phone, which had on it an image of the head of the alien poorly stuck back on and Duperman giving a thumbs up with an arm around it.

Charles stared at the hero for a moment and then resumed his explanation. “I’m not asking you to kill anyone. I have no way of communicating with them. Please, go up and reason with them. They’ve been seen readying some sort of global attack.”

“I’m great at communicating. After hair-care, I’d say it’s my top skill.”

“Yes, yes. Please, go.” Charles sighed.

Duperman sped out of the skylight and into the cosmos, searching for the ‘gathering’ Charles spoke of. As he flew, he remembered the destruction of his planet and his exacting vengeance. It haunted him ever since.

A ship in the distance was surrounded by silver humanoid beings, all standing very stiff, their bodies all oriented differently. Some stood with their feet on the bottom of the small ship, some stood sideways on the wall and some straight up and down. Duperman approached them at a friendly pace, with both hands up to signal peace. He reached them and started to grab them by the shoulders and position them all to be upright. They shared confused looks with each other, but did not retaliate.

“Hello.” Duperman greeted the aliens. “Oh, sorry…” He remembered to speak in their language, something he often forgot to consider. “Hello.”

The aliens spoke by making different angles with their limbs and midsections, which Duperman enjoyed. “Hello, we are the last of the Nubo race. Is this your planet?” 

“Uhhhh, yes! What are you doing here?”

“So we’re here for all the humans.”

“Oh, good! Yeah, there’s so many. Are you going to give them like cures for diseases and advanced tech or something?”

“Sorry I wasn’t clear, we’re here to eat all the humans.”

“Ohhhhh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Listen, I was really considering just taking you all out when you just said that, but I was told to just reason with you.”

“We want to eat all the humans.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“We still want to.”

“Well, reasoning didn’t work.”

“Wait.” one of the aliens bent forward at a 90 degree angle. “Maybe you can talk to our leader.”

“Um, okay. Do they want to eat all the humans too?”

“Definitely.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

To the mothership all the aliens escorted Duperman. He was reminded of the Galactic Coalition ship he destroyed many years prior. The pain of that memory soured his mood, lowering this group’s chance of survival.

Duperman approached a slightly larger silver humanoid who was in a hole halfway in the floor of the ship. He picked up the big alien and set it down on the floor at the same level as him and stepped backwards.

“Twice now you guys are doing weird things.”

The larger silver alien - still much smaller than Duperman - bent in many directions to get a word across. “Hungry.”

“Hungry?” Duperman copied the motions, adding an extra hand flip for the question mark. “You cannot eat all the humans.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He flipped his hand again.

“I can tell you’re very powerful. Why would I risk my life to eat all the humans when I could eat all the Lopians?” A hologram projected in the center of the room displaying a planet identical to Earth with a population counter in the billions.

“Fuck this.”

Duperman flew forward and grabbed the neck of the leader with one hand. He crumpled up the silver being and pressed it to his head like a beer can. From his forehead, a burst of light and energy exploded the being, leaving no trace of it.

The other Nubo in the room turned to flee, but their only method of movement was slow bending and straightening. Duperman held a hand out towards them and they flew towards him. He moved his hand and dodged them, allowing the speed of his telekinetic pull to squash them against the wall behind him, which also destroyed the ship’s power source.

Duperman exited the mothership and held it in one hand. He turned around a few times, searching for an empty path to launch it so that it wouldn’t crash anywhere. With a thrust, he released it into the void and descended back to Earth. A hidden survivor aboard screamed with quick, furious bending motion, “YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF THE NUBO!”

“Did you reason with them?” Charles asked.

“Of course.”

“Good. Thanks, as always, D-man.” He thanked the hero, who went for a fist bump the moment Charles turned around. He played it off by flying fist forward out of the room.

Duperman started heading out of Big City when he heard screams and screeching. He checked a street where the noise was coming from and noticed a large purple creature rolling through the city. He knew something must have set Wumpus off. To the street he went to see if he could help calm her down.

Feeling fellowship with a couple heroes who were already on it, he got close and congratulated them, “Great job, team.”

Busy night. Officer Mike Nasty took a break between calls to grab a bite to eat. Mike made sure to let the cashier know he was watching his figure as he ordered a triple cheeseburger with large fries and a diet soda. In a vacant parking lot, he put a foot up on Sally to enjoy his food. Sauces and cheese dripped off the burger. If it was anyone else, they’d have a major stain situation.

Once he downed the whole meal, Mike left his bike to seek out a trash can, noticing there suspiciously weren’t any nearby. “Keep my spot warm, Sally, I can’t litter, it’s against my code.” He left behind, however, the wrapper for the burger. If Sally was truly sentient, she would have left that parking lot before being approached by a menacing robot.

Trashcannibal identified the motorcycle as a trash can due to the refuse left on top of it. It purposefully galloped forth and its lid, extending out the acid sac within.

“Stop right there, can-man. Sally, to me!” Mike commanded. Sally did not move. Neither did Trashcannibal. “You don’t want to do this.” 

Seeing TC’s sac nearly touching Sally’s tire, Officer Mike Nasty withdrew two pistols from his waist. He stood still and shot round after round directly at the robot. Each bullet bounced in a different direction, ricocheting off the advanced metal of Trashcannibal’s exterior.

“IT’S RETURNING FIRE!” Mike dove behind a bench. The bullets stopped whizzing by, so he stood to shoot again. Again, the bullets were deflected. “THIS SON OF A BITCH IS RELENTLESS!”

Trashcannibal’s attention had moved to Officer Mike Nasty, as it had a robust self-defense protocol. It sensed no threat, however, as the Officer used his cop-controlling brain to call for backup. In just moments, the street was full of cop cars. Men and women in blue stepped out of their vehicles and pointed weapons at the metal menace.

Ever the hero, Officer Mike Nasty thought it was a good opportunity to strike as Trashcannibal was analyzing the threat level. He backed up into the street and then ran forward to power slide beneath the bench he hid behind. It got TC’s attention. Mike assumed that the robot was entranced by his exotic dancing abilities, so he attempted another.

Officer Mike Nasty climbed up a street light and twirled around it erotically. He went upside down, though his hands were greasy from the meal. The move he’d done countless times in the club failed him on the street. Mike crashed into the pavement hard, knocking him unconscious immediately.

Trashcannibal slowly moved towards Officer Mike Nasty’s body. To defend their peer, cops began to run and try to take down the robot. The first officer went directly into TC’s mouth. The next one did the same. They watched each other go and get swallowed up, but continued to try. Mike began to regain consciousness to see his final colleague drop into the goo of Trashcannibal’s stomach.

“I’m going in. Sally, hold my guns.” Officer Mike Nasty threw all his guns at the motorcycle, collecting in a pile on the ground beside. He squirted baby oil all over his body, coating himself extra-thick for protection.

“HYAUGH.” Mike grunted as he leapt forward into Trashcannibal’s open hatch. The oil protected him for long enough for him to see all his fellow cops had perished. He climbed out, sustaining minor acid burns, but nothing too harmful.

Trashcannibal walked past Sally to see one of Mike’s guns knocked the burger wrapper off the bike and pinned it on the floor. It identified it instantly as a trash can. TC whipped its stomach at the gun and wrapper, dissolving both in its sac.

Officer Mike Nasty watched the robot at work. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

TC turned to see the bare chested cop. “Beep.”

“You’re on a mission... I’m on a mission.”

Ten minutes later, Mike and Trashcannibal danced in sync to thumping techno beats and classic hard rock on stage at the club for the next two hours to absolutely no audience.