The End of Captain Cliché
John Smith, the completely average reporter, sat in his 23rd story workspace, faithfully attempting to come up with crossword questions the Faike City Times. Occasionally he had to look out the window for question ideas, or at the contents of the small and crowded room he worked in. He generally did not create the crosswords or anything similar, he in fact wrote articles, but Jim, the activity manager, had called in with the flu. Tears streamed down the boy’s face as the muffled thump of a body hitting the floor echoed through the empty corridors of the estate. He could hear the hulking man’s boots less and less; their distinctive clicking sound gave away the position of this monster. Suddenly, seemingly as an afterthought, …show more content…
Moments after John was shocked out of his memories, his boss pointed at the whiteboard. “‘Twists round and round into the next story?!’ That’s the best you can do?! It’s obviously stairs”.
Dick Jerkface was a relatively round man, with a twisted moustache and just as bad of an attitude. His hobbies included golfing and yelling his heart out at his employees.
“Sir, I am doing the best I can,” John exclaimed while exhaling his frustration, “If you don’t like it, why did you make me, of all people, do it?!”
Dick smiled …show more content…
Nothing can stop the Captain of Crime-Stopping!”, the hero said boldly as the crowd stared cheerfully. The statement seemed to break the order of the thugs, and many charged at him in the same moment. Combat ensued.
Our hero started off with a left handed uppercut into an unarmed thug’s jawbone, and before the “Crack” sounds had ended, two gunmen were left whimpering on the floor sustaining broken legs. One gangster decided to throw his machete, but was shocked to find that somehow the machete had ended up wedged firmly into a cement column about 10 feet in front of him. As he began to contemplate this spectacular experience, his world turned dark.
Seconds after the encounter had started, Captain Cliché had dispatched all of the criminals. As he looked around, he made the distinct realization that Lord Criminalism was nowhere to be seen. The tension could be felt in the air, and that was before a strange gas started pouring in from the vault. With gas clouding around him, Captain Cliché, for the first time in years, did not know what to do. Suddenly, his superhuman hearing picked up the sound of a pebble dropping in front of him. With the speed of a supersonic train, he shot out of the way milliseconds before the ceiling he was beneath smashed down. Lord Criminalism’s laugh was suddenly audible. “Do you really think it would be so easy?!” he taunted. The damp gas cleared, and revealed Lord Criminalism in a massive purple mech suit. Gears were cranking,
John Smith, the completely average reporter, sat in his 23rd story workspace, faithfully attempting to come up with crossword questions the Faike City Times. Occasionally he had to look out the window for question ideas, or at the contents of the small and crowded room he worked in. He generally did not create the crosswords or anything similar, he in fact wrote articles, but Jim, the activity manager, had called in with the flu. Tears streamed down the boy’s face as the muffled thump of a body hitting the floor echoed through the empty corridors of the estate. He could hear the hulking man’s boots less and less; their distinctive clicking sound gave away the position of this monster. Suddenly, seemingly as an afterthought, …show more content…
Moments after John was shocked out of his memories, his boss pointed at the whiteboard. “‘Twists round and round into the next story?!’ That’s the best you can do?! It’s obviously stairs”.
Dick Jerkface was a relatively round man, with a twisted moustache and just as bad of an attitude. His hobbies included golfing and yelling his heart out at his employees.
“Sir, I am doing the best I can,” John exclaimed while exhaling his frustration, “If you don’t like it, why did you make me, of all people, do it?!”
Dick smiled …show more content…
Nothing can stop the Captain of Crime-Stopping!”, the hero said boldly as the crowd stared cheerfully. The statement seemed to break the order of the thugs, and many charged at him in the same moment. Combat ensued.
Our hero started off with a left handed uppercut into an unarmed thug’s jawbone, and before the “Crack” sounds had ended, two gunmen were left whimpering on the floor sustaining broken legs. One gangster decided to throw his machete, but was shocked to find that somehow the machete had ended up wedged firmly into a cement column about 10 feet in front of him. As he began to contemplate this spectacular experience, his world turned dark.
Seconds after the encounter had started, Captain Cliché had dispatched all of the criminals. As he looked around, he made the distinct realization that Lord Criminalism was nowhere to be seen. The tension could be felt in the air, and that was before a strange gas started pouring in from the vault. With gas clouding around him, Captain Cliché, for the first time in years, did not know what to do. Suddenly, his superhuman hearing picked up the sound of a pebble dropping in front of him. With the speed of a supersonic train, he shot out of the way milliseconds before the ceiling he was beneath smashed down. Lord Criminalism’s laugh was suddenly audible. “Do you really think it would be so easy?!” he taunted. The damp gas cleared, and revealed Lord Criminalism in a massive purple mech suit. Gears were cranking,