

Eric Pearson #275689


Midnight Riders @ Dragonfly
Wielding the power of Sector Marshal (#2), Eric demonstrated exceptional skill by playing +80 points above their rating in this epic clash.
Dark Alley
A brazen vault heist has rocked the Dragonfly course, with Captain Ironclad and his team uncovering a cryptic UV-ink message that points to an inside job and implicates the Protocol Punisher bag tag. Ironclad’s relentless instincts and Bobby Schneck’s forensic sleuthing have yielded the first big break, exposing a volunteer’s tampered credentials and deepening suspicions about corruption within the league itself. The presence of a silent plague doctor figure overseeing the chaos has cast a supernatural chill, suggesting that a far more cunning enemy manipulates events from the shadows. Themes of trust, identity, and the moral lines between justice and vengeance have begun to unfurl, as the famed bag tag system morphs from prideful ornament to cryptic evidence. While the Regulators have secured their first small victory, the city’s underbelly stirs—and as the last rays of UV fade, the next move belongs to a mastermind who’s just getting started.



Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Captain Ironclad led the Regulators into a rain-slicked alley behind the Dragonfly course, neon graffiti pulsing under a flickering blacklight. Shadows pooled at the edges as the team formed a semi-circle around the lone suspect. The scent of damp concrete mixed with sharpened anticipation—this was no routine inquiry. ⚔️🌧️
Eric Pearson unrolled his tactical sector map on a makeshift table of overturned crates. His “Sector Marshal” bag tag glowed under the UV lamp, triggering an overlay of hidden drop zones and crime patterns across the course blueprint. “The coordinates line up with that graffiti,” he said, tracing a spray-painted arrow. “Our suspect was here—then vanished.” 🧰🔍
Volunteer 47 shifted on his feet, eyes flicking between Ironclad’s stern gaze and the cryptic symbols on the wall. Ironclad crouched, blacklight in hand. “Drive that crosswind,” he hissed, as if coaching a secret throw. The narrator rustled notes, squinted, and announced in a low growl, “I smell a rat,” pointing at a faded glyph that matched the “Protocol Punisher” tag from the vault. 🧐🥏
Eric tapped his tablet, projecting the tagged coordinates onto the Dragonfly fairways. “Sector grid shows two possible exits—one through the maintenance tunnel by hole seven,” he explained. He pressed his bag tag against the screen, unlocking a hidden layer of inked symbols. The map revealed a narrow corridor carved behind the basket—a clandestine path for handoffs. 🗺️🔦
A sudden hiss of gravel turned heads. From the mist emerged a figure in a plague doctor mask, clutching a miniature disc etched with strange runes. The masked informant tossed it at Ironclad’s feet and vanished into a labyrinth of dumpsters and darkness. The disc glowed faintly as it rolled. 🎭🥏
Captain Ironclad scooped up the rune-etched disc, exchanging a tense glance with Eric. “This little artifact wasn’t made for casual practice,” Ironclad muttered. Eric scanned the disc with his tablet—embedded within the runes was a fragment of a larger map pointing to the championship course’s ley lines. The Regulators exchanged nods: the next trap was already set. 🏆🌠
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