"oiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIII," came a shout that echoed down the street as the Frankenwagon puttered around the corner. "OLLY OLLY OXEN FREE! HOLLAR IF YA HEAR ME! HELLO! HERO? HEROES? VILLAINS, I DON"T CARE, COME ON OUT!"

The voice of any normal man would have crapped out hours ago. The patience of any normal man would have crapped out even sooner than that. Danny West was not an ordinary man. He did not, on the whole, get tired and was possessed by a singular bloody minded determination. He had been in Chicago for a while now, and besides stopping at a novelty shop to purchase a big Chicago city flag that now flew majestically from the back seat of the Frankenwagon, had not stopped calling out for the duration. Even Danny's single mindedness had a limit however. Not even the flag had gotten any attention. Well, the attention of anyone he was looking for. Tomorrow morning social media would be flooded with pictures and video from all over the city of a loud blue weirdo seemingly calling Pyro out but that was a story for another day. The next day.

For now the Frankenwagon sputtered a few times, the engine went dead, and it coated to a stop to the consternation of the drivers behind him. For the first time today Danny looked down at his fuel meter and swallowed as angry horns started to blare behind him. "Out of gas?" He asked no one, bewildered. "I just filled her up this morning through." He turned the once or twice, as though this was all some mistake, and signed as the honking behind him grew louder. He stood up and stepped out of the car, grumbling. The honking abruptly stopped. 

"Seriously, I couldn't have been out that long." He said, gingerly hefting the car up onto his shoulder and started to jog down the street looking for a gas station. "Knew we should have gone electric. I'm electric. I run fine."

He was disappointed in today. There had been nothing interesting at all. When he'd got here he'd expected chaos, but the streets seemed almost like they were on their best behavior, like they were at a funeral or something. Maybe the distress call had been a hoax. He'd been gotten that way before. Dad had once had him listen to some old radio show as a joke, and he'd had a bucket on his head and was halfway down the driveway before he'd explained that there weren't actually any martians. He was going to be really mad at her if it wasn't true. He wasn't asking for the moon or anything. He just wanted something odd to be happening here!

The six foot blue skinned walking corpse trotted down the road carrying his car on his shoulder, Chicago flag still flapping out the back. It wasn't long before he got his wish.

He skidded to a stop as he saw a bunch of people laying prone in the street, surrounded by even more people. He stepped off the road, much to the relief of the motorists that had been behind him, and set the Frankenwagon down in the nearest free parking space before he made his way over to the scene. He stepped behind the group tending to the nearest fallen man, proudly puffed out his chest, and said with his clearest super heroic voice "What seems to be the problem, Citizen?" The group, as once, turned to him.

The resulting screams were accompanied only by deflated, "C'mon, please, don't do that."

[@RBYDark]