The smell hit the marketplace long before the Cookie did. A pungent odor that promised immediate discomfort and potential structural damage wafted through the air.

Sting Durian Cookie strode through the throng, his helmet clutched under his prosthetic arm, his bazooka slung across his back. His constant smile was in full effect as he hopped onto the base of a lamppost, the stench intensifying instantly.

“ATTENTION, Cookies of the Common Rail!” He roared, his voice echoing over the hasty coughs and choked gasps of passersby. “Are your shipments lagging? Are those pesky Cake Monsters stealing your cargo and not paying the ticket fare?! Then you require the services of the one and only train defense expert!” He beamed, pointing the bazooka skyward. “I specialize in protection, intimidation, and making sure nobody, and I mean nobody, can stand within fifty feet of your property!"