2 am came a whole lot faster for Nobel and Kerosene. The modified '68 Plymouth Roadrunner cruised through the countryside heading for Innovation City for the week-long, Corporation-sponsored extravaganza. Kerosene slept in the passenger seat while Nobel drove. They entered the outskirts of city limits around 3 am on the analog dashboard clock.
All their documentation was in order, as the now "Radiative Orange" '68 Roadrunner pulled into the checkpoint. Nobel cranked down his window and shut off the "bone stock" engine. The city limits border officer slides open her booth window and takes Kerosene's and Nobel's documentation paperwork. "Vendors, huh... Who are you working for?" Inquired the officer. Nobel handed her both of their worker ID cards.
The cards read: ~Employee Vendors Nobel F. and Paraffin K. are hereby current employees of the Legendary Steve "Stingray/Hurricane" Stull of Stull Restoration LLC~ Signed & Stamped by Steve Stull, the Department of Labor, and the Board of Certification.
The Officer scans the cards and hands everything back to them. She nods slowly as she says, "You are cleared to enter Innovation City. Vendors are to use the first right-hand land only. Follow the lane until you get downtown. Park in your designated spot, then make all the money you can." Her voice was downcast and monotone, as if she'd been chewing molasses just before they'd arrived. However, she closed her booth window, gave them the "all clear" to start up, raised the booth's arm, and the modified '68 Roadrunner entered Innovation City. Once they found their parking spot, they parked up and quickly approached the booth where Stingray Stull and his wife Phyllis had been setting up.
"Sorry that we're late!" Kerosene called out, waving to Phyllis. The fiery twink hugged Phyllis, while Nobel and Stingray shook hands, then set to work unpacking merchandise for the display tables. It didn't take long for them to finish setting up the merchandise. As soon as the market's opening bell rang, buyers clambered to "Steve's Resto" stall and began running through their supplies. However, unbeknownst to the four, Cobra Petrol had dispatched its team to buy out Steve's company completely. The team lead, Electra, smirked as Stingray waved to them.
"Good Morning, Stingray. Quite the selection you have here." Electra said, grinning and briefly glancing at the restored goods with her electric-blue eyes. Her grin seemed genuine, but Nobel knew it was anything but genuine as he rushed over to Stingray. Before anyone could speak, Electra's electric-blue eyes met Nobel's tundra-like, lightning-white-eyed glare.
"You are your Cobra Petrol corporate trash; you aren't welcome, nor are you wanted here." Nobel growled at her. His tone could have frozen over even the deepest depths of hell just before he snapped at her, smacking a large sign with "Stingray's Stall Rules" painted in large black letters. "Can't you corporate goons read? Or did Ole King Crude forbid that, too?" His eyes hadn't let her as he motioned for the "Stingray Sixers", the retired/active firefighters Stingray had hired for market protection, to come and remove them from the stall's front. As the "Stingray Sixers" drew their axes and tools, the largest and burliest firefighter stood in front of Electra.
"You were told to leave. Now beat it, or we'll remove you by force." Cyclone said as the firefighters made a single opening for them to leave. Electra rolled her eyes with a smirk as she and her corporate protection walked away. However, she stopped just a moment to smirk at Nobel, her hand rising slowly, revealing a detonator. Nobel's eyes widened in horror as he shoved Kerosene and Phyllis out of the way, well away from the front of the stall. The stall's front erupted in a large explosion. Burnt-out appliances, bits of stalls, pieces of broken firefighter explosion-resistant shields, and larger building debris littered the ground in the aftermath. Electra smiled as she surveyed the rubble.
However, much to her surprise and dismay, Nobel emerged from the rubble after shoving a large metal sheet of debris out of his way. His once lightning-white eyes were now glowing a radium green as the Geiger counter on his belt began to crackle and pop, its needle rising steadily as his eyes landed on the seemingly lifeless body of Stingray Stull. With a shout of rage, Nobel revealed he hadn't come to this event unarmed. Instead, he pulled a cord that caused the bag he'd been wearing on his back to fall to the ground, while an odd-looking rifle flipped forward into his hands. In a split second, a series of radium-green colored laser bolts burned into Electra's shoulder.
Electra fell over in agonizing pain. Her mind raced as she began to sit up slowly, surely she'd had her anti-ballistic gear inspected before coming... but as she sat up, it became clear no bullet had punched a hole through her arm, as her whole shoulder was burnt into critical condition. As her eyes drifted back toward the area where "Steve's Resto" stall had once been, those electric-blue eyes widened in horror as her corporate protection unit was picked off, one by one, reduced into scattered cinders of laser-fried ash. Electra scrambled to her feet and began to run away. Her body screamed in nervous system electric pulses as she cradled her arm, but it was all in vain. Nobel raised the odd-looking rifle and aligned the iron sights with her heart. His radium-eyed glare struck fear into anyone bold enough to look at him as he uttered the Stiken phrase, a derivative of the Latin language only known by the Fusion family, "Ita sit", otherwise said in Carrcion, a derivative of English, "So be it", as he fired off a radium-green laser bolt through her heart as she screamed, turning into a pile of laser-burnt ash.
As Noble lowered the rifle, his eyes returned to their normal lightning-white color, and the Geiger counter fell silent once again. Without another thought, he rushed over to Stingray, who was on his feet with a bruised Phyllis and slightly bloody Kerosene. He helped all three of them into his Roadrunner, which had only taken a bit of the shockwave as he'd had to move it quite far just before they'd opened up shop. Nobel pinned the accelerator to the floor as he used some debris to ramp on the highway.
Meanwhile, King Crude Cobra, who had watched everything unfold using surveillance drones, was now on the move in his military-contracted prototype vehicle, the "Multi-purpose Insurrection/Riot Crusher" or the "M.I.R.C." for short. It was a prototype riot vehicle designed with two things in mind: Speed and anti-escapee protocols. Cobra pinned the accelerator of the high-rpm (revolutions per minute), twin turbo-charged diesel engine to the floor. Cobra grinned as he engaged his siren and lights, "Now... Let's serve up some Stingray for dinner."