The chilly horrid night bit and tore at the very warmth of GhostRider. The aftermath of the Orchard Flood was devastating. The usual Starbucks that he usually camped at to have a recharge after assassinating targets with his psionic prowess was totally wrecked. A fallen tree branch had impaled the wavy haired MengXue lookalike on the green ‘Starbucks Coffee’ logo.
The catastrophe was so bad that when he scanned his iPhone, Google Earth showed an ‘expansion’ of the Singapore River. GhostRider had no choice; the flame on his skull was his life essence; dousing the flames would cease his very existence.
In another desolate corner of the STOMP universe, sugarpuffpants kicked aside a trash can, trudging in a corner of the ‘Just Talk Lah’ section. Kicking the bitch Yannie(s) wasn’t such a good idea after all, especially with all the emotional bite marks she (they) had caused. Though he hated to admit it, each duel of words was a waste of his intellect. He knew that he could have better spent his time at other forums. Like an addict to ecstasy, he knew that getting a kick out of pwning bitches was taking a toll out of his life. A qualified brain bulge wouldn’t waste his time meddling in the affairs of the common populace.
The night was still young, and SPP had an innate desire to go south. Getting on the Chevy Camaro that was his getaway after the dogslaughter of poor old Boonie, he raced in the direction of south, with the fleeting trails of smoke bearing the last vestiges of his whereabouts. The Chevy Camaro was a curse; it reminded him of his failure of not winding up that argument with the faceless (IAm)Tyrone while he could have just whacked the shit out of that faceless newb, with his words of course.
Minutes into the journey, he glanced into his surroundings. Amidst the pitch black darkness, possibly due to the absence of city lights, he spotted a faint glow that ignited his curiousity. There, eyes staring at him with an intense passion, the faint glow on his head suddenly became brighter. The glare was provocative, and the look was simply mean.
“La… la… A life of pain, the WinterSoldier’s walking again!”
Both heads, bulging and flaming, turned in the direction of the jovial chant. A masked muscular bulk of what resembled a hunk strode past, with guts obviously not as big as his bulk.
“GhostRider! What are you doing here with SPP? Here to challenge him ah?”
“Challenge him? When I have already controlled him?”
This was going as planned. Truly his master was right in getting him to be a trouble amplifier; Emptyvoid told him that like all men, GhostRider was susceptible to ego. This had all been planned. The Orchard Flood was created to deprive GhostRider of a recharge such that his powers would just match those of SPP psionically. Instilling an innate desire to turn south was easy for Emptyvoid, and getting WinterSoldier to be his agent of mischief was simply magnificent.
As both SPP and GhostRider glared at each other with a murderous hate, little did they know that their encounter was engineered by a greater entity, keen on the extermination of the two parties (and the entire world of STOMP, of course).
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