Once, in the fog of history, there was a man. His name was Fabian.

You could say that Fabian was a man of some minor, miscellaneous quality.

One day, he was sitting at his desk in his office of work, debating with one of his friends about the origin of the flying vengeance brick when suddenly, out of nowhere, a posse of stock villainous henchmen burst through the ceiling and started shooting everything. Fabian reached into the drawer in his desk and pulled out his dual pistols. Then he leapt to action.

He started shooting whilst under cover whilst slowly making his way closer to the exit. When the posse realised that they were no longer having a rain of bullets fired upon them, they noticed that Fabian was escaping.

Fabian noticed that the posse had noticed. There was a moment of absolute silence. Fabian ran. The posse followed, shooting throughout the building.

When he reached the lift, Fabian gained slight hope, until realising that the lift was out of order. He would have to take the stairs.

And down the stairs he went, with the posse following close behind.

A few caught up, throwing their fists at Fabian. He managed to dodge and block. Then he fought back, with a few well timed head butts.

As the descent to the entrance continued, Fabian managed to take out some more of the posse by using his mind fist as well as the walls and stairs.

He finally reached the entrance, with a few of the stock henchmen still chasing.

As he charged down the street, he saw a duck at a lemonade stand trying to score some free grapes. Fabian was getting tired of running at this point, so he decided to fight back again.

As the duck was about to pull it off, Fabian utilised the power of artistic licence, grabbed it by the legs with one hand and started swinging the duck above his head. He then let out a deep, booming battle cry that could be considered a fine example of a falsetto voice and started moving towards the remaining stock henchmen whilst swinging the duck as it was freaking out.

He managed to take them out, one by one, until there was only one of his enemies left. Fabian launched the duck at this one standing man with great ferocity and hit him right in the kisser. The duck panicked some more and got away as quickly as it could. The man was unfazed. It was time to run again.

And run he did. The henchman remained in close pursuit. It came to a point where Fabian couldn’t run anymore. He was almost out of energy. After gathering his breath, he realised where he was. The only way was down, as he had managed to reach the highest cliff in Arnham land. This was not ideal.

The stock henchman approached Fabian. The situation looked dire, so Fabian did what he had to.

He jumped.

Fabian fell fast. Whilst it seemed inevitable that he would not survive, he fell through a roof that helped break his fall. He expected a bit of luck at this point. What he wasn’t expecting was the henchman to follow.

The started trading punches and kicks. The fighting was intense. It was brutal. It was majestic. Even though the upper hand had swayed between the two many a time. Neither was superior to the other.

Eventually, Fabian fell, as did the henchman. They had done too much damage to each other to be able to keep fighting. Then they realised they weren’t alone in this house.

The house was filled with many narwhals. As narwhals are prone to exploding violently for no reason, this did not bode well. Fabian had to get up, before they started. Not only that, but the henchman was back on his feet and slowly approaching again.

The Narwhals were about to start exploding. The henchman drew close. Fabian summoned the last of his energy and rose from the ground. He focused. He back flipped. It was the only way he could escape out of the house. Narwhals were blowing up all around him, but he continued to back flip. The henchman had trouble keeping up.

Fabian finally reached the front doorway of the house. There, his trusty panda steed with jetpack was waiting. Giving it a high five, Fabian said it, “Herr Yeltsin, it is time for us to depart!” As he hopped on, the henchman dove and grabbed Fabians’ leg. Fabian took it well. He turned his foot and placed it firmly on the henchman’s face. The henchman let go immediately, grimacing and falling to the ground as the foot remained on his face. As Fabian moved away from the henchman to get back on Yeltsin, he turned to the henchman, looked at the large imprint on his face and said “Das boot.” Then Yeltsin took off, carrying Fabian over a sea of mouse traps, away from the house as it exploded most magnificently.

As they flew, Yeltsin grunted.

“Where to now, you ask? Hmmmm.” Fabian looked into the distance. Off on the horizon, he spied a duck.

“Well, Yeltsin, that duck looks like it could lead us to stranger lands.”

With another grunt, Yeltsin started to follow the duck, off into the sunset.