THE SPIRIT OF HOTSHOT

It was late. Reynold was in his apartment, sleeping fitfully. An unfamiliar voice called his name.

"Reynold."

"I didn't order a wake-up call!" the sort-of Cheat Commando protested.

"Reynold."

Reynold opened his eyes, and what he saw made him do a double-take and rub his glasses. (Yes, Reynold sleeps with his glasses on. What a weirdo, huh?)

Above him hovered a monochromatic apparition, resembling an anthropomorphic Sneak more than anything else. It wore clothes like Gunhaver's, only considerably more dated, and it was apparent it was designed by a different animation studio altogether. One that no longer existed.

"AAAAAHH!" screamed Reynold, falling out of bed in his panic.

"Wait a minute, my grandson's name isn't Reynold. I knew I came to the wrong place," said the specter in his stalwart, newsreel-announcer voice. And with that, he dissipated, off to find his grandson. The real one this time.

Meanwhile, something similar was going on at the Blue Laser headquarters.

"BLUE LASER!" barked a bizarre, echoing voice that sounded like Yoda with pneumonia, if Yoda had a British accent.

Blue Laser growled at being awakened so rudely and squinted at whoever made the ruckus.

"WHAT THE CRAP!" he screeched.

"I'm the ghost of your grandfather, you twit!" answered the ghost. "Surely someone's told you of your father's father, the great Dr. Piranha?"

"Weren't you the one that was a florist all your life and then when you got old you went senile and decided to be evil?"

Dr. Piranha sighed. "Yes..."

"All I remember is that your house always smelled terrible!"

"Why you little…" the ghostly grandpa growled. "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about aiding you in crushing the Cheat Commandos!"

"NO! WAIT!" yelled Blue Laser.

"Oh, all right. You always had to have your way, you little brat. I'll return tomorrow night." And with that he faded away.

The next morning Reynold was visibly shaken from his encounter the previous night.

"Gunhaver, d-d-did HE come to see you last night?"

"Who, Santa Claus?" Gunhaver smirked. "What's your deal, anyhow?"

"I saw the g-g-ghost of your g-g-grandfather last night!"

"When was the last time you actually got outside, Reynold?"

"Ohh, I don't like outside!" Reynold whined. "Especially that weird blue thing up there with those fluffy white things in it. And that scary yellow thing that hurts your eyes. It's, like, warm and stuff!"

"And you wonder why we never take you on any missions…" Gunhaver grumbled, only to be interrupted by Reynold hollering.

"LOOK! Gunhaver, there he is!" Reynold yelled, pointing his paw at what looked like nothing.

"I don't see a thing, you head case…" Gunhaver started, but then Reynold switched off the light and Gunhaver saw his grandfather's ghost standing right in front of him.

"GAH! It IS you!" yelped Gunhaver. "Grampa Hotshot!"

"Just giving you a heads-up about tonight," Hotshot explained. "Dr. Piranha and I have a score to settle."

"What do you want us to do?" Gunhaver wanted to know.

"Umm…I don't know, really. Tradition has it that you have living onlookers for this sort of thing. Sort of a peanut gallery, I guess. Have yourself and your men ready by the big hill at the stroke of midnight tonight. Oh, could you write that down for me in case I forget? Plus, I still need to tell Dr. Piranha." Gunhaver did so. "Thanks. See you tonight, boy." And he was gone.

It was 11:59 P.M. at the big hill. The Cheat Commandos had gathered on one side of the hill and the forces of Blue Laser on the other. Surprisingly, there was no battle between them. No one even spoke.

12:00.

Gunhaver broke the silence.

"My grandpa can beat up your grandpa," he told Blue Laser.

"Oh, you just HAD to ruin it!" Blue Laser griped. "For once I thought we could actually get along!"

"When pigs fly, Blue Laser!" Gunhaver retorted.

More silence.

12:01.

"Where are they?" Reynold asked.

"He got lost, I just know he got lost," Gunhaver groaned. "He always got lost."

Just then an unearthly, horrible moaning behind them caused the Cheat Commandos to turn around. Crackotage had a wild look in his eyes and was spewing green slime that shot out 10 feet ahead.

"Crackotage, I told you that chicken had gone bad!" Gunhaver scolded. He turned back to the hill upon hearing two voices.

"Are you sure this is the big hill?"

"Of course it is! How many big hills do we have around here?"

"Well...are you sure this is the right big hill?"

"Good grief! Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well...I remember it being a lot bigger than this."

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF SAM HILL!"

"Sam Hill? I thought it was..."

"JUST SHUT UP AND LET'S GET THIS OVERWITH!"

And with that, the two old-timey apparitions faced each other on top of the hill and drew out...their banjos.

"AHHH! Banjos! Me secret phobia!" shrieked Fightgar, fainting and landing on top of Crackotage, squishing him dead.

Hotshot and Dr. Piranha began to play "Dueling Banjos". Not one of them missed a chord, their fingers were sure and true...aw, heck, it's a couple of banjos, how am I supposed to make this exciting? Anyway, a string on Dr. Piranha's banjo broke, and Hotshot was the winner.

"OH, CURSES! OH...CURSES AGAIN! OH...MORE CURSES!" yelled the good Doctor (or not-so-good Doctor, or not-so-Doctor) as he disappeared in a burst of flames.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done," said Hotshot, gradually fading away as he walked off into the moonlight.

"Buy all our playsets and toys!" the announcers sang.

The Cheat Commandos were heading back to the Headquarters Playset when they noticed someone had written on the side of the building in blood.

IT'S A PILOT YOU NOW LACK
FIGHTGAR, YOU SHOULD WATCH YOUR BACK

THE END