Phil Smith was walking down La Perdita’s main street, his sunglasses on and his hands tucked into his pockets. He was enjoying the sunny day and deciding to not care what other people were thinking.
Behind him walked Ben Phillips, the Vanguardian sometimes known as Bruteforce. Ben was dressed predominantly in civilian garb. He had on shorts and a Hawaiin shirt, with his blue mask still adorning his face. Robo Squirrel hovered next to him.
Ben had thought that the sight of a three foot long robotic squirrel flying down the street in the middle of La Perdita may attract unnecessary attention, and so he had decided to fashion a disguise which would allow Robo Squirrel to travel incognito. A top hat, a monocle, and a fake handlebar moustache were currently affixed to Robo Squirrel’s head. The disguise was, for the most part, failing to discourage curious looks.
Phil stopped in his tracks and turned. “This is a great day, is it not?” He asked.
Ben raised his eyes and shaded his face with his hand, then turned to take in the scene around him. He noticed chirping birds, happy children, and scantily clad women. “Yes. This is indeed a fantastic day. It’s the kind of day that almost convinces you that nothing bad could possibly about to happen.”
Phil grinned. “That’s exactly what I was just thinking.”
“The world can doom itself tomorrow,” Ben said. “For now, I will enjoy the scenery.” He kept walking as a tanned young girl rollerbladed past them in a bikini. Phil and Ben’s heads turned in unison.
”Robo Squirrel does not understand the significance. There are dozens of people out rollerblading today.”
Robo Squirrel extended a paw to point out an elderly couple decked out in helmets and kneepads slowly progressing down the street on their inline skates, leaning on each for support as they went. Ben and Phil both laughed.
”Incoming telephone call from Grissom Montag!” Robo Squirrel yelled, and the voice coming from the speaker in his mouth suddenly changed to Grissom’s.
“Phil?” Grissom asked.
“Yeah. Ben and Robo Squirel are here too.”
“You need to be watching TV. Now. Channel four,” Grissom said.
“Robo Squirrel. TV screen,” Ben said. A silver panel in Robo Squirrel’s stomach opened up and slid downwards until a TV screen was suspended from his hovering form. The news report appeared on it.
“And to conveniently recap our top story…” Came the voice of the reporter. “…Police are baffled as to the method employed by daring robbers to steal hundreds of thousands of dollars from the First Bank of Melbourne last night. This footage provides the only clue as to how the robbery took place…”
Black and white footage appeared on Robo Squirrel’s belly-screen. It showed a dimly lit bank vault with the door blasted open, and a blurred shape zooming past the camera. The footage was replayed, and freeze framed when the blurred shape appeared.
The news presenter kept talking, but none of the Vanguardian’s were paying attention anymore. Their attention was fixed on the screen.
“See what I mean?” Grissom asked.
“Yeah…” Phil replied softly, his gaze on the freeze framed security camera image.
The footage showed a robotic creation, squirrel like in shape, rocketing past the bank’s security camera.
”Eep,” Robo Squirrel said, as his monocle fell to the ground and shattered.
