Scarecrow Returns

THE RUSSIAN ICBM came rocketing out of the sky like a thunderbolt, lancing down toward Dragon Island at over 700 miles per hour.

The remaining members of the Army of Thieves had perhaps five seconds to admire its dazzling tail-flame and smoke-trail—enough time to realize with horror exactly what it was and that it brought with it their deaths.

The missile detonated.

A flash of light and an almighty boom were followed by a shockingly powerful outward-moving blast-wave that consumed Dragon Island.

The base’s two gas vents—previously so huge and gigantic—were instantly ripped apart by the shock wave. They simply disintegrated to dust. The disc-shaped tower tilted and fell before also being obliterated completely by the thermonuclear flame. Some of Dragon’s coastal cliffs trembled under the weight of the colossal explosion and spilled giant chunks of rock into the sea. The cable car terminal toppled off its perch, falling into the bay.

Everything was incinerated; every structure and person on the island was vaporized.

A towering mushroom cloud rose into the sky.

Dragon Island was no more.

So was the Army of Thieves.