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“Think again, Scumbags.”
By Bill | July 5, 2007
The rain fell hot and wet like oodles of noodles. The gunmetal grey battleship pulled up softly to the dock and docked. All was silent on the Eastern front (it was in the New York City Harbor). Not a sound was to be heard but for the shady dealings of arms manufacturers abored the sturdy vassal. Chu Man Fu stroked his waist-length mustashe and resealed the massive crate of M-16s and AK-47s.
“So we are in agreement.”
“Yes, Pierre. With these fire arms, soon the entire City will be ours for the taking!”
Pierre the Arms Dealer popped open the latches on a big metal briefcase. Inside is ten million dollars! The money is about to exchange hands when suddenly . . .
“Think again, Scumbags.”
“Nightdiver!”
Yes, ’twas he. In the flesh, as it were. Nightdiver stood astride a cannon turret and adjusted his Morpheus-style shades just so. He unsheathed his holstered gun and levelled it at the two interlopers.
“Looks like your ship has come in.”
“You haven’t got the guts! There’s no backup this time!”
Behind his shades, Nightdiver furrowed his brow. He gritted his teeth. He clenched his fists. His fists clenched the gun. His finger squeezed the trigger.
Topics: By: Bill, Nightdiver | No Comments »