The scent of burnt asphalt still clung to Roll Cake Cookie’s gear. He parked his road roller against the grimy wall of an abandoned warehouse, creating a shower of rust and dust that obscured the alleyway entrance. Three police cruisers had been totaled, and the structural integrity of ‘The Sweet Side Bakery’ was, regrettably, compromised.

“Hah! The Menace strikes again,” he spat, the red glow of his visor reflecting the distant blue and red lights he had just fled before a heavy sigh escaped him.

“It’s not enough,” Roll Cake Cookie muttered to the yellow face painted on his hammer. “I could smash everything. Every little, perfect house. Maybe then they’d realize being destructive is the only satisfying way to live.”