The Tale of the Tape

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During the fight in the streets of Seattle, Hot Rod and the Three-Strokes were jumped by several COIL supervillains. Uwe Mayer (the crazy tentacle-rapist) was killed out of sheer rage by Shillelagh for attacking Crosse in such a vile manner. Doc Nano allowed himself to be captured to prevent the double railgun guy from hammering his teammates any further. The villains absconded with Doc Nano--the brains of our operation--and thanks to a tracking device arrangement between Hot Rod and the Doc, the team was able to determine he was at a location dubbed the “Arboretum,” a massive dome deep underground. The team followed the signal down the access pit and through the dense, humid jungle at the bottom. Crosse was targeted by a sentry gun shooting poison darts. In the arboretum we found a huge skeleton and a lake. The signal led to the body of water, where a Gorgon leapt out to attack us! After beating the thing back under the waves, we were able to determine that the signal only led to the tracking device…Dr. Storm was nowhere to be found.


The Arboretum was a huge area, though, and deserved a thorough sweep. However, between the fight on the surface and getting down here, Hot Rod’s suit and Crosse herself were much the worse for wear. Sensing that rescuing Doc Nano would require their best effort, the team departed to repair, rearm, and see if there was anyway to get Crosse patched up (since our resident healer who normally handles this stuff was the one in need of rescue, and otherwise unavailable to help). Hot Rod took off back to base, while Shillelagh hopped on his Harley, with a battered Crosse holding on behind him as he made a beeline toward Harborview.


As the Beauty and the Beast sped toward the Zymogenetics building on their way to the hospital, one member of the uncharacteristically large crowd of bystanders whipped out a pistol and shot Shillelagh without provocation! Another gunman across the street yarded an AK-47 out from under his track suit and opened fire, missing wildly. More and more people on the street began sprouting guns. Clearly, Shillelagh had driven into a full-blown ambush. He drove past the first pistolero and clocked him with a mighty punch, knocking him far into the nearby crosswalk. Crosse flung a steelie at the second gunman’s AK, jamming the action. A Bratva brute grabbed onto Shillelagh’s outstretched arm and hauled him off the motorcycle as it sped past. Crosse and Shillelagh fought like dervishes to overcome the sheer numbers surrounding them. The wounded girl was on fire (figuratively, not literally; a distinction that ought to be made in this genre)! She took villains down left and right; to judge by her performance, no one would suspect that she was in need of help! Smelling the vodka and borscht about them, Shillelagh knew these were none other than his sworn enemies, henchmen of the Bratva. Alongside Crosse, he jumped into action, running from one foe to the next, pounding them into the asphalt with his bare hands—the pace of the fight was so frantic that he didn’t even have time to draw his namesake weapon into play.


Crosse spotted our (Shillelagh’s?) recently acquired Nemesis, Krasnyy D'yavol, atop the Zymo building, monitoring the action with a high-tech bit of eyewear. About this time, Hot Rod approached the scene. While fixing his suit back at the base, he had the news turned on in the background, hoping to hear some good coverage of his superheroic expliots. Instead, he heard about a warrant issued for Shillelagh’s arrest for the murder of Uwe Mayer. Hot Rod also spotted El Diablo Rojo on top of the building. Hot Rod unleashed the sticky wrath of Elmer*, his mighty glue cannon, on the Godless Commie. Krasny would have dove for cover and evaded the attack if it weren’t for Crosse blinding him just a moment earlier. All glued up, he could only wait for the cops to arrive, as their sirens had been wailing in the distance for a some time now. Almost as if someone had called them in advance. Like, as if somebody wanted some cops here soon, but not ASAP, if you know what I mean.


When the police got on the scene, all the Russians played innocent, laying down their guns and putting their hands up, even the one that had just drilled Shillelagh in the back repeatedly with a submachinegun. Freed of his gluey restraint, Krasnyy D'yavol explained to the lead officer that he and his team had obtained all the proper approval to carry out a citizen’s arrest on Potato Stick (see, Ol' Krasnyy calls Shillelagh "Potato Stick," thinks it hurts his feelings), when we came at them and attacked unprovoked after they had clearly identified themselves. If you read the previous few paragraphs of this missive, you can tell that there are some discrepancies in the stories. However, Krasnyy D'yavol offers the police video footage to peruse that supposedly backs up his claims.


We, the good guys chuckle. This ought to be good.


The footage that is shown clearly shows the crazy Irishman attacking the unarmed (?!) Russians, running them down with his motorcycle, then backing over them, people screaming in fear and brave Sputniks (Russian Seattleites) drawing arms to protect themselves and any innocent bystanders we may threaten.


Clearly, the footage is doctored. But in real-time?!? Even Hot Rod is baffled by how it is done, and he is no stranger to the fine art of video editing techniques. To make matters worse, we call upon Maria Reyes to pull security footage from Zymo's cameras. It shows nothing to back up our story. During the same time as the Russian's footage is being taken, some kind of electronic interference spreads all around the local area that prevents any other source from monitoring or recording the events on the street. Oh, the Russian tape has some "interference," too. During the part at the beginning where they identified themselves, so they claim. That's why Shillelagh started attacking them, as their recording clearly shows. The police have only the Russian’s footage, and a couple dozen eyewitnesses (who are either all Russians, in the service of the Russians, or just mezzed by the awesome presence of Krasnyy D'yavol into believing his version of the story). Using unknown technology, Krasnyy D'yavol has spun an illusion that all can see and none can disprove (yet, dammit!)


The police attempt to place Shillelagh under arrest, and rather than make a bad situation worse by resisting, he allows the cops to put cuffs on him and take him back to the station, where he, Crosse, Hot Rod and Zymo’s attack lawyer (dispatched by Maria Reyes) have little luck in persuading the cops that the narrative put forth by Krasnyy D'yavol is completely fabricated. They can’t follow their gut or reason. They are completely hemmed in by damnation in the form of a video record of events that--as of yet--they have no technical reason to doubt.


Shillelagh’s bail is set at $500,000. Hot Rod hatches the idea to take the issue to the masses, and let them help decide if we are worth saving. He sets up a Go Fund Me, and overnight, raises $340,000 dollars, way more than the 50K needed to get the Bowler-wearing bruiser out of the clink.


We leave off with Hot Rod and the Rodlings scratching their heads and drawing upon all their resources to try and clear their names and reassure the citizens of the Emerald City that they are, indeed, still good guys. But more importantly, they must gear up to rescue their friend, Doc Nano, first (and also, he could probably help with some of this bogus video nonsense that has been delaying his rescue)!


*If "Elmer" isn't the official name of Hot Rod's glue bomb cannon, it should be.