"Nnnnrrgggh!" Cyborg sweats and grits his teeth, wrestling palm-to-palm with the black-mustached, bald strongman presently forcing the android Titan to buckle down to his knees in the center of the battle-strewn Main Street. "Mmffnaugh….nngnh!"
"Hmm?" the strongman smirks and applies even more pressure on the struggling Titan. "Getting the knobbly knees, are you? Feh.. ….You yanks are all alike. Too much fannying around about politics, money, and rubbish to ever bother with exercise and body-building!"
"Mmmmfffnngh!" Cyborg hisses and clenches his muscles. "Hey! Watch what you say about RUBBISH!" He yells and shoves back hard against the strongman. "RAAAAUGH!"
The strongman is shove back towards a sidewalk. Th-Thump! He trips over a newspaper vendor and falls back on his shoulders.
Cyborg stands above the man and brings both metal fists up to smash down on him.
The man grunts and kicks the newspaper vendor with two feet. CLANG!
The metal box slams into Cyborg's chest. CRACK! "Oof!" He knocks the shrapnel away and stumbles, only to be pummeled by the incoming dive of the strong man as he's wrestled towards a line of flower vendors.
Stomping by in the foreground is a lumbering, green T-Rex with pavement pounding feet. The emerald beast lowers its drooling jaws into a ferocious howl as he descends upon the fleeing figure of the safari man.
The pith helmeteer in question glances back over his shoulder in mid-sprint and swiftly tosses a flash grenade straight up into the air. Thwooosh—
FLASH!
A bright light explodes into the giant dinosaur's pixeled eyes. The beast stumbles to a stop and shrinks down into a pint-sized, swirly eyed elf. "Duaaaaa-aaaaah…," a slurring Beast Boy twirls and weaves about. He slaps himself in the skull, shakes out of it, and blinks a normal pair of eyes across the street. "… … …wh-where'd he go--?" He suddenly gasps. "DUDE!"
Seated on a street corner, glistening in a museum euphoria of light, is a shiny, retro moped of blue steel and red finish. British design. Spotless and pure.
"DUDE!" Beast Boy skates over on grinding hooves and cups his hands together while grinning glisteningly at the vehicular beauty. "A real 1960s Phillips Panda Mark 1! The last of its kind before the development of the Gadabout models! Squeeeeeeee-eeee-eee! I must ride it! Just once!" A huge, monumental sweatdrop adorns his crown. He glances back at the carnage of the fight. "Battle…." He looks at the moped. "Bike." He looks back. "Battle." He looks at the moped. "MMmm-B-Bike." A beat. Crickets. Beast Boy's brain processes POP(!) "Awwww fluff it!" He rubs his palms together, leaps dramatically, and righteously straddles the antique. "Vroom! VROOM!"
Fl-FLASH! The hologram of the moped flickers away, revealing to the jade changeling that he is actually straddling a city bench.
"Uhhh.. … ..Ow?"
CL-CLANGGG! A cage drops down on him from above.
"H-Huh? GrrrrrRRR—" He morphs momentarily into a bear and charges the metal bars---
ZAAAAAAP! The electrified metal zaps him back onto his smoking butt.
"OWCH! Duuuuuude! Weak!" He pouts.
The safari man walks up, his hand on a remote. "Hmmph! And here I thought I would have some worthy game for the catching!"
"Hey!" Beast Boy frowns and shakes a green fist. "Who're you calling unworthy—"
ZAAAP!
"AAA!" He shrieks in the form of a leaping squirrel monkey, hugs his smoking tail, and sniffs. "You're a meanie…."
Meanwhile, across the length of Main Street….
"Have at thee!" the knight rides his horse in a full charge towards Starfire.
Starfire backs up nervously and launches one, two, three starbolts. FLASH! FL-FLASH!
The green globules of energy fly up over the steed's mane and slam broadly against the knight's breastplate. CL-CLANG! CLANG! The knight bears down on Starfire, undaunted. "HAAUGH!" He stabs down with the full length of the lance.
"Eeek!" Starfire falls back on her fanny and jerks both of her strong hands out, gripping the very end of the lance and holding it back before it can skewer her neck. "Nnnnngh!"
"Your mercy I beg of thee after this most fated scuffle," the knight presses the weight of him and his horse down through the lance. "It is not my typical practice to call malice to a lady—H-Huh?" His eyes squint under his visor.
Fwoosh! In a streak of black smoke, I am running up. I leap over Starfire, touch down onto the lance, and blur up the length of it and—WHAMMMMM!—jump kick my way through the helmet of the armored calvaryman.
"OOOF!" He shouts from under his metal shell and flies completely off the equine. TH-THUDD! His horse whinnies and stampedes away from the battle.
Th-Thap! I land in a squat. I take a breath, stand up, and look worriedly at Starfire.
"Nnngh!" She stands, tossing the heavy lance to the ground. CLANG! She brushes herself off. "I-I am not used to battling an enemy who shares my touch of grammatical eloquence."
"Let's worry about that another time, Starfire," Raven floats up and motions straight up towards the H.M.S. Victory II. "We must get to Mad Mod! Noir and the boys can handle themselves." She looks my way. ".. …Can't you?"
I blink. She's actually ASKING me? I shrug and salute to her with a nervous smile.
"Good. Starfire, let's fly."
"X'Hal! Righteous FURY!" FWOOOOSSSH! Eyes searing green-hot, Starfire bullets upwards. Raven graciously glides after her.
I take a deep breath. I turn—and at a specific sight immediately unsheathe Myrkblade at the ready—CHIIIING!
The knight is back up to his feet, and he is pulling a double-edged broadsword straight from his sheathe. "Your duel is accepted, young smoking one!"
I sweatdrop. Young Smoking One?
"Let us see if your finesse equals your affection towards the lady's life!" He raises the sword in two hands.
I make a face. Does he think that me and Starfire—
He brings the sword down.
Ahhhh FLUFFICON—
I blur to the side. SLASSSSSSSH! The singing metal slices over my head. I roll up into a crouch. He stabs down low at me. I leapfrog up, twirl, and land in a blurring slide with Myrkblade aimed agilely at him.
"Nnnngh!" He swings horizontally in my direction.
I hold a breath and raise Myrkblade---CLAAANG!—the intended 'parry' sends me and my sword flying across the street and into a lamppost. SM-SMACK! I wheeze, shake my head, and squint a pair of dazed black eyes at him.
Clang-Clang-Clang! "Rrrrrgh!" He charges at me, sword held high.
I shudder, crack the joints in my neck, and blur straight at him. Fwoosh-Fwoosh-Fwoosh!
Clang-Clang-Clang! He charges.
Fwoosh-Fwoosh-Fwoosh! I blur.
Clang-Clang-Clang!
FWOOSH-FWOOSH-FWOOSH!
CLANG! CLANG! "NNNNNGH!" He swings his sword down at me upon our impact—
THWOOOSH! I teleport through him and solidify in a leaping kick against the square of his armored back. THWUMP!
"Aaaah!" He gasps into his helmet and flails, stumbles, and falls head-first into the hood of a parked Volkswagen. CRUNNNCH! His head literally sticks through the trunk. "Mmmmf! Mmmfmmff!" He drops his sword—CLANG!—and fights, struggles, wriggles to get his head out until—POP! His naked head comes free of the lodged helmet. He pants, pants, sweats, and exhales as he stands upright. "Whew…."
THWACCCCK! Myrkblade promptly comes whack-a-moling down onto the top of his skull. The vibration rattles through his eyes, shudders through his neck, shakes through his armor, and wobbles down to his knees until he jolts, reels, and falls down with a moan. "Unnnngh—" CLANG!
I take a breath, twirl Myrkblade, sheathe it, and glance across the battlefield. "… .. …"
As it so happens, up on the beauty pageant stage…
"Hahahahahaha!" the harlequin leaps and jumps and frolics his way over bullet fragments and tramps in mid-cartwheel over a collapsed Detective Walker. Th-Th-Th-Thrump!
"Augh!" Walker hisses through his mustache. "God dammit!"
"Hehehehe—Have it your way, handsome!" the harlequin pulls out a random bar of soap and shoves it into Walker's mouth. Schump!
"Mmmmmmf!" Walker protests until—CLANG-G-G-G!—two tambourines are slammed against each of his cheeks. (GULP) Walker swallows the soap, goes cross-eyed, and burps out a few bubbles.
"Hehehehe!" The harlequin twirls and dances happily at the stage's edge. "Stiff upper lip now!"
Cl-Clik!
At the sound of the guns, harelquin glances over from under his feathery mask.
"…. .. ….," Commissioner Ashley has two pistols trained on the impish clown from across the way. She frowns and squints. "I've got two gun barrels, and you've got two lungs." She tightens her fingers on either trigger. "Want to place your bets?"
"Hehehe… …You haven't got the guts!" He winks.
"… … ….," she sighs and lowers her pistols.
"HA! I thought so!" the harlequin points.
"On the contrary," Ashley drones and stares over the harlequin's shoulder. "I haven't got the pizzazz."
"H-Huh?" the harlequin blinks. SCHMPPFFFT! "URKKK!" The clown's eyes cross.
Decker has come up from behind the gaudily dressed thug with an atomic wedgie. He pulls the back waistband of the crook's polka-dotted briefs a good two feet up into the naked air. A swagger, and the snarling Decker then hoists the clown up further by his britches while religiously slamming his boot up between the harlequin's thighs. WHAM! Again. WHAMMM! Again. THUDDD!
"RRRRRKKKK---" The clown twitches, writhes, and hisses till he drools in paralysis.
Th-THWOOOSH! Decker unceremoniously tosses the thug by his underwear off his stage and into the dented hood of one of the two limos. WHANG! He dusts his hands off and grunts. "Go visit the ass hospital, Patch Adams."
"Pffft—Nnnghblblb…," Walker stumbles to his feet, spitting bubbles. "About friggin—blbllblb—time…"
"Hey Walker. Zestfully clean?"
"Blbllbl-ck you."
"Gentlemen…," Ashley marches up with a few armed cops and points straight up at the HMS Victory II. "…. …I think we have an even bigger problem on our hands."
All of the officers look straight up.
A giant hole has entered in the belly of the ship and is illuminating a bright patch of ground.. … ..right over the site of the two limousines.
Off to the side, Cyborg is still struggling with the strongman.
'Struggling'… ….is a relative term.
"WHOAH---" SMASH! Cyborg is swung into a building front. "YAAA—" CLANG! Then into a lamppost. "WHOAH DAAAMN—" CLACK! And against a half-crushed van.
Th-Thwump! Cyborg is dropped to his feet. He limps around dizzily with flying toasters circling his head. He snaps himself out of the temporal screen saver and looks painfully across the sidewalk—
"Here you go, chum!" THWOOOSH! A giant weight of bulbous, black dumbbells is tossed his way.
"DAAAH!" Cyborg catches the weight by the middle stalk, awkwardly. He reels left and right and then stands—wincing—in the center of the street.
"Very good!" The strongman claps his meaty hands, adjusts his leotard, and tosses another set of dumbbells. "Try this on for size!"
Th-THWUMP! Cyborg catches the second set, stacking it up along with—
"And another!"
THWUMP! A third set. TH-THWUMP! A fourth. THWUMP! Five stacks of metal, black dumbbells. The android sweatdrops profusely as his legs start to wobble and knock-knees beneath him.
"Heh heh heh," the strongman folds his arms smugly and smirks. "There's hope for you yet!"
Then….From off to the side. "Hey you! Catch!"
"H-Huh?" The strongman turns. He suddenly, awkwardly catches a lightweight royal musket rifle in two hands. "What's this—?"
WHUMP! Robin steps in with a metal boot to the strongman's groin.
"UNNNNGH!" the strongman gags, wheezes and falls down to his knees—inadvertently quivering and raising the rifle up like an offering.
Robin accepts it, waits for the strongman to collapse into a fetal position, and props his foot up on him like Columbus' landing. SNAP! He breaks the rifle over his knee and tilts his head up towards the HMS Victory II.
Bard walks up, the limp body of the 'redcoat' thug slung unconsciously over his shoulders. "So, what now? Reckon he's got pirates to toss at us now?"
"Mmmmfnnngh!" Cyborg tosses all the dumbbells off him. CLAA-AAANG! He sweats, pants, and limps over to Robin's side. "I vote we outlaw all friggin' DVDs of Monty Python in the Tower for a month!"
"Bite your tongue!" Bard hisses—
"Shhh…Guys…," Robin raises a gloved hand and squints as he sees two female, Titan forms flitting up to the side of the hovering galleon. "… …Our sirens have got a song prepared for the sailor…"
