The flaming 18-wheeler seemed to levitate for a moment, the slick streets propelling it forward at frightening speed. It jerked to the right, smashing a police cruiser to the sidewalk, and straightened once again. Atlas watched helplessly from his square, stolidly unflinching yet seemingly aware of the situation. The steel behemoth roared, smoke billowing from its engine. The slightest hint of something fiery and menacing appeared in the windows of City Hall.
The heroes noticed the threat when it seemed too late. The truck was approaching fast, its tires splintering against the asphault with the searing friction of speed. Dozens of heroes poured out of the square, each one moving indepedently yet every one of them united. Flames, shards of ice, magic dust, dark clouds, glowing energy, and golden leaves all scattered in their wake.
The tanker's front wheels locked, pitching the cab violently to the right. The vehicle fell onto its side but continued sliding towards the gates of Atlas Park. Sparks flew, and hints of flame appeared under its metal frame. It exploded with a horrible BOO-!.
Fwomcracklefsshtissshfrrrr.
The violent flames clouded angrily against the confines of the massive force field that had just barely managed to form over it. The bubble looked less like a force field than it did a quilt. Some sections were iced over, others glowing with radioactivity. Patches seemed to be coated with solid stone and strips of black mist coiled off it. Atlas bowed his head to the heroes gathered at the intersection before him.
A crisis averted, or so it seemed.
The steps to City Hall, now deserted, were slowly ascended by a shifty-looking man in green goggles wielding a very large gun. He slipped into the building, and moments later, City Hall was ripped from its foundations. It slowly floated into the air, hovered there for a few seconds, and then rapidly bobbed upwards into the sky.
It happened far too fast for any heroes to act against it, though many made a valiant effort to get to the flying building. Within a minute, however, it had become apparent that the only thing left to be done was stare disbelievingly at the earthy pit that had once housed the center of Paragon City government.
"I can't believe this..." "What happened? Who was it?" "How did he do that?" "Did anyone escape?" "Was the truck a distraction?" "Do we still have to pay taxes?"
Inside the now-airborne City Hall was a shifty-looking man in green goggles wielding a cellular phone. "Speed-dial seven," he said to the phone.
"Paragon City ransom hotline, how may I help you?"
ISSUE ONE - Prologue
---
The flaming 18-wheeler seemed to levitate for a moment, the slick streets propelling it forward at frightening speed. It jerked to the right, smashing a police cruiser to the sidewalk, and straightened once again. Atlas watched helplessly from his square, stolidly unflinching yet seemingly aware of the situation. The steel behemoth roared, smoke billowing from its engine. The slightest hint of something fiery and menacing appeared in the windows of City Hall.
The heroes noticed the threat when it seemed too late. The truck was approaching fast, its tires splintering against the asphault with the searing friction of speed. Dozens of heroes poured out of the square, each one moving indepedently yet every one of them united. Flames, shards of ice, magic dust, dark clouds, glowing energy, and golden leaves all scattered in their wake.
The tanker's front wheels locked, pitching the cab violently to the right. The vehicle fell onto its side but continued sliding towards the gates of Atlas Park. Sparks flew, and hints of flame appeared under its metal frame. It exploded with a horrible BOO-!.
Fwomcracklefsshtissshfrrrr.
The violent flames clouded angrily against the confines of the massive force field that had just barely managed to form over it. The bubble looked less like a force field than it did a quilt. Some sections were iced over, others glowing with radioactivity. Patches seemed to be coated with solid stone and strips of black mist coiled off it. Atlas bowed his head to the heroes gathered at the intersection before him.
A crisis averted, or so it seemed.
The steps to City Hall, now deserted, were slowly ascended by a shifty-looking man in green goggles wielding a very large gun. He slipped into the building, and moments later, City Hall was ripped from its foundations. It slowly floated into the air, hovered there for a few seconds, and then rapidly bobbed upwards into the sky.
It happened far too fast for any heroes to act against it, though many made a valiant effort to get to the flying building. Within a minute, however, it had become apparent that the only thing left to be done was stare disbelievingly at the earthy pit that had once housed the center of Paragon City government.
"I can't believe this..." "What happened? Who was it?" "How did he do that?" "Did anyone escape?" "Was the truck a distraction?" "Do we still have to pay taxes?"
Inside the now-airborne City Hall was a shifty-looking man in green goggles wielding a cellular phone. "Speed-dial seven," he said to the phone.
"Paragon City ransom hotline, how may I help you?"
"I have your city hall!"
"To confirm, press one."