Ham the claw hammer, not to be confused with Ham the piggy bank, an altogether different character from another story franchise, bolted upright from slumber to the dismay of the recently purchased Nurse Ratchet Wrench. [Further proof that tool puns are ineffective.] Since the disappearance of Phillip K. Screwdriver, Ham was unable to sleep well. This was over a month ago.
It was a coalition, you know, a temporary alliance of distinct parties, in this case superheroes, for joint action. They proudly named themselves, Power Squadron Inc. U.K. Initially, it was just Power Squadron, but due to litigious upstarts using the same name, and with the help of adept copyright lawyers, they settled with PSI U.K. Speaking of settling, they based their headquarters in Dover, Delaware.
“Seriously? Damn it!” He glared at the detached piece of plastic in his hand. “I fucking swear to God, plastic is killing us in so many ways, we don’t even realize.”
“Please. Don’t start.” Patty’s interjection disappeared in the sea of Bingo’s anger.
On that fateful day, The Big Ape® arrived on Earth, Washington D.C. to be specific. His mission was simple and true. Make peace with the humans or kill trying. He descended slowly in a beam of bright yellow light. He held up his hands brandishing peace signs with his grossly large fingers. His posture made him look like President Richard Nixon®. Many people instinctively ducked in fear of having feces flung at them. The watching world wanted to know one thing: What the hell was this?