Near the Devil's Nest | Sunday Morning

[defenderofdesmoines]

There were very few things that would have taken Annie off the task of figuring out this whole...hole thing (not that she'd been making much progress), but some kind of national emergency in her home universe would do the trick.

The details were pretty sketchy when they came in, but Annie had never actually heard the little emergency alert in her cuff communicator from Vought go off before, so she'd hopped to and gotten into uniform as soon as it had buzzed early this morning. She'd downed some coffee, fastened her cape, and left with a promise to Diego that she would run for the causeway and watch for holes, and would return as soon as this Seven thing was resolved.

Of course, between her exhaustion (she'd slept some last night, but definitely not enough) and how distracted she was with trying to read the texts that were incoming from Vought so she'd have some idea of what she was walking (really, sort of trotting) into, that was all easier said than done.

Annie looked up from her phone just in time to spot the hole that was headed for her, and while she put up a pretty decent attempt at dodging it and fired a couple of blasts from her hands at it, surprisingly, that didn't seem to do much.

So, before the hole could swallow her entirely, Annie raised both hands up and shot a pair of blasts into the sky like a warning flare, causing the ambient electricity to flicker and surge for a moment -- and then she, along with the bar she had been standing next to, were gone.

[DN holed with owner permission, and open if you want to have seen Annie's blasts/noticed something was up with the streetlamps/observe the missing bar!]

The Trash King's compound, the preserve, Sunday [NFB]

[betterthanaplan]

His compound was complete. And it was glorious. The Trash King looked over his creation with an approving nod, even as his minions scurried around, shoring up this wall here, making that ceiling a little more dumpster-like there.

"Friends!" he cried, spreading his paws wide, his pickle jar rattling. It was time to give the people a little bonus, for being such loyal peasants. "Our delivery empire is strong and ever growing! Your king is pleased!"

The minions cheered.

"Your king is especially pleased with one of you, who has earned enough points to get a catapult bonus!" The Trash King looked over the gathered crowd as they leaned in expectantly. "Uhhh, you!" He picked a minion at random. "Well done! Go forth and hurl trash at those pesky humans!"

The minion of choice squealed in delight. The rest of them chattered amongst themselves excitedly.

"Do the rest of you want a catapult?" the Trash King asked. "Then go forth and bring me more trash! Who knows, maybe one of you will even earn enough points to get the coveted quadcopter!"

More cheers, and the minions scattered, picking up phones and tablets and plotting the very best holes they could think of. The Trash King settled back on his haunches and watched them, licking a bit of dried pickle juice from his fur.

"Mmm," he said. "Trashy."

[establishy. TIME FOR A CATAPULT! The holes can now spit things they've swallowed up back at you to try and knock you into the hole!]