There’s a parking lot where the last 1980s henchman waits for you. When he’s not sitting on the hood of his broken down baby blue Chevette, catching rays on his bald head, knocking back Michelob and Coors with his nunchaku stuffed down the front of his pants, he struts around in his headband, leather vest, mom jeans, cowboy boots, prison tats of pinup girls, and no shirt. The dude’s got his knuckle duster over his fingerless glove, a switchblade in his pocket, a Bulldog .44 holstered at the small of his back, a Walther PPK in an ankle rig, and he’s keeping up his nunchaku technique.
But if you really want to rock he’s got a gym bag stashed inside the long shuttered Rax Roast Beef-it’s hidden underneath a surrealistically incongruous reconstruction of a Wendy’s salad bar-packed with a MAC-10, a chopped down AK-47, a sawed-off pump shotgun, fragrant athletic supporter, family portions of PCP and cocaine, and ammo, dammit, ammo. If you defeat him he’ll tell you with his dying breath the combination to the manager’s safe inside the former Rax Roast Beef building. If you open the safe you’ll obtain a long expired box of extra large ribbed condoms, a floppy disc containing the secret sauce recipe, a couple of custom speed loaders for the Bulldog .44, and an enchanted bike chain. The bike chain’s the keeper.
But beware and take care!
The more you use that bike chain, the more likely you are to end up as the cursed guardian of some extinct fast food location. Or you’ll get spiritually stuck to some dead mall or creepy abandoned amusement park where you’ll have to fend off hordes of middle-aged, behind-the-times urbex YouTubers. If you’re lucky, you might end up spectrally attached to some vacated McMansion down in some especially Floridian hellspace. If you get good enough with that bike chain you might be able to fight off a hurricane or two, but the rising tides of Climate Inferno come for us all in the end.
But who knows?
If you swing that bike chain good enough . . .
If you can rock that headband hard enough . . .
If you can carry yourself with enough cocaine swagger . . .
If you can manifest enough PCP inflected wildman energy . . .
Who knows . . . maybe the gods of the raging seas and the burning fires’ll meet you in single combat . . . figure things out for all times . . .
