Heh Heh Heh...Dusseldorf.
Thunder sat back in his chair, reading his newspaper. Every once in a while he would glance out the window at the scenery rolling by. They were entering southern Germany on their way to Dusseldorf, having already passed through Spain, France and Switzerland. Small towns dotted the landscape, as did hills and patches of forest. Thunder went back to his paper.
Straw sat in the seat across from his boss, reading through his files, wondering about the strategy they would employ to combat their next foe, a German superhero by night, fashion designer by day. His superpower involved shooting fire from his hands, though due to his mysterious persona and lack of credible information, it was uncertain if that was the extent of his powers. It was rumoured that he could shoot multiple types of energy from his hands, but that was as of yet uncomfirmed. His name: Dusseldorf Kinder, which in English was the Dusseldorf Kid, earning him the title of having the name that sounded that lamest in both German and English. Also, and this was ironic given his fashion designer day job, he had the worst uniform of any superhero worldwide – even worse than Super Happy Go-Go Boots Joy. DK wore a white button up shirt with ruffles tipped in gold. The buttons only went halfway, leaving his day-glo orange undershirt exposed, and tufts of hair poking out from underneath that. Purple pants that hugged the hips and flared out at the bottom were tight enough that he did not have any pockets. His brown shoes were platform shoes with yellow laces. His belt, though tasteful, was black and thus did not match his shoes, and the belt buckle was a glittery silver oval with his initials carved in. And to top things off (literally, in fact), he had a comb over. Straw shuddered slightly at the picture.
Noticing the slight movement from the corner of his eye, Thunderfunk lowered his paper. "Who are we fighting next?" he asked. Silently his partner handed him the file. Examining it distastefully for a moment, the giant chicken handed it back. "This looks as though it should be easy. Don’t bother getting a hotel for this one – we’ll just pop in, destroy and humiliate him, and head out on the next plane. We have a busy schedule ahead of us."
"You know," mused Straw, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "at some point we’ll cross paths with First Lieutenant Awesomepants."
"Oh I think not," replied Thunderfunk from behind the business section. "We will eventually reach some heroes to whom he has spoken, but we will not face him directly. Not for a while. By the way," he continued, lowering the paper once again, "how many of these heroes do we have left?"
Shuffling his papers, Straw found the master list. "Fourteen," he answered, looking nonplussed. "How are we going to beat all of these people. It will take forever."
"Fear not, my good lad. There is only one viable option."
"You don’t mean..."
"Indeed. We will have a montage."
NEXT WEEK: THUNDERFUNK, THE MONTAGE!
"Who said that?" Thunder looked around. "Listen disembodied voice. I told you before to go away and stop following me. It’s getting weird."
SORRY. I JUST WANT TO HELP.
"Well you’re creepy and Straw has trouble sleeping at night because of you. Now go away. Sheesh."
ALL RIGHT. GOODBYE.
SERIOUSLY - MONTAGE!
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