Our first few days of gaming brought us to the compound of the infamous Dr. Stitch, a terrifyingly upbeat supervillain who runs his operation like an evil kindergarten teacher, complete with star charts and trips to the Time-Out Pit. It’s not great work, but it beats unemployment (though only barely). The good Doctor had called a meeting of the Caring Corps, colloquially referred to as ’Stich’s Bitches’ by even the unpaid interns (who at least have a future with this operation), which represent the bottom rung of the mook ladder here.
Enter three hapless mooks, #087, #347, and #865, sub-regular Joes who, whether through a lack of talent, rash decision-making, or sheer laziness, have found themselves in the unenviable position of catering to the mad Doctor’s ridiculous whims. Dr. Stitch revealed that a group called the Silver Dragons, who were opposed to Dr. Stitch’s proprietary company, StitchCo, had sent a threatening letter. This letter heavily implied that the Dragons planned to shut down each of the StitchCo factories in Cityopolis by force, that very night. Thus, Dr. Stitch decided to have a “sitdown” (of the high-caliber variety) with these fellows to show them the error of their ways. After this briefing, the few hundred mooks in attendance were dismissed to the Magic Make-Believe Store (armory) to scramble, mob-style, for a few lousy pieces of low-quality weaponry.
After the mooks armed themselves, they were divided up into several groups, loaded into the backs of waiting “Welcome Wagons”, and left to drive off into the sunset (or in this case, late afternoon traffic) to their respective defense points. En route, someone revealed a handle of Cousin Jeb’s Rootin’ Tootin’ Baby-Making Whiskey that they somehow (don’t ask) smuggled into the van. With the no-nonsense #003 as their commanding officer, brooding in the passenger seat like an overstressed parent scant inches from meltdown, what awaits this crew of flunkies when they arrive at their destination in the Hollows, an industrial park in the cushy side of town? With #003’s patience for their half-drunken hijinks wearing ever thinner, will they all even make it there in one piece? Stay tuned to find out!