The Friday Nite Game, Part the Third
The sewers beckoned our heroes just like…well, let’s say I have a simile in mind, but we’ll skip it, all right? Black Iron and Nice Guy ferry down the non-flying members of the party onto a stable area in front of the two main sewer lines that the “bugs” flew from.
“Should we go to the tunnel on the right, or the one on the left? There’s also a large tunnel right dead in the center….” While the party begins arguing, Ol’ Lady Johnson, recognizing a pointless arguement when she can barely hear it, starts walking down one of the tunnels. As she moves further and further into the shadows, risking death with every step (to be fair, death was risking her as well), the arguement fades until Cornfield Commando says, “Hey! Where did the old lady go?”
From one of the tunnels the sound of a monstrous panting emerges. There is a flicker of light…perhaps from a wagging tail. “That way!” Nice Guy exclaims, and the rest of the party follows Ol’ Lady Johnson (no relation to Mayor Johnson…that he knows of) down the lefthand tunnel.
Hm. Have you ever noticed that it’s dark down in the sewers?
Especially when you don’t have flashlights?
Nice Guy flies up to the gas station on the corner and buys a sufficiency of flashlights. When he returns, Ol’ Lady Johnson only has one word for him, and that word is “Batteries?”
“Oops,” he says.
Soon, the party is properly equipped for a jaunt in the sewers. Black Iron even has a magnet to attach his flashlight to his suit. In fact, being the most mega (Black Iron buffs a few flecks of dust off his armor), he takes the lead. Scouting ahead. For danger. And stuff.
Soon, Black Iron encounters that which he seeks. Specifically, he encounters eyes. Glowing ones.
Meanwhile, the rest of the party has been keeping pace with Ol’ Lady Johnson’s usual hobble. “I wonder what we’ll find down here,” Black Squirrel asks. “Aliens, probably,” Cornfield Commando replies. “Those critters seemed mighty familiar. Mighty familiar. Reminds me of the time I was abducted…” “But you don’t remember that,” Black Squirrel says. “I do now,” Cornfield says. “It’s all startin’ to come back to me.”
The party walks on, mulling over their separate thoughts.
Ol’ Lady Johnson turns about face and begins scuttling, dragging Gilbert by his collar. The rest of the party considers the noise for a moment and relizes that it can mean only one thing: Black Iron has just fired his rocket launcher at a possibly deadly foe. In a sewer. Filled with explosive, uh, sewer gas.
Nice Guy stops to snatch Ol’ Lady Johnson and Gilbert from the path of the approaching fireball; the entire party makes it out.
Including Black Iron, who rides the fireball like a cowboy rides a bull. Like a sailor rides the hurricane. Like a glider rides the storm. Like an unconscious superhero rides the flaming ball of methane and lands in the…muck.
The muck closes over Black Iron’s head…