As the shadowy figure of Lord Putrid disappeared from the screen, the air in the Gasworks felt heavy with a new sense of urgency. FartMan and Fart Smeller exchanged a glance, their senses now heightened, knowing that Windopolis was still very much in danger.

FartMan cracked his knuckles. “Well, Smeller, it looks like we’re dealing with something much bigger than StinkMaster. This whole ‘League of Pungency’ thing is starting to smell worse than day-old fish tacos left in a hot car.”

Fart Smeller, ever the scent-sensitive sidekick, nodded in agreement. “I can smell the plots getting thicker. We need to act fast. If Lord Putrid is behind this, then we’re dealing with someone who won’t just stop at stinking up a room—he’ll stink up the entire city.”

Suddenly, Fart Smeller’s nose twitched violently. “Wait… do you smell that?”

FartMan sniffed the air, squinting. “I smell… rotten eggs, sulfur, and… is that… gym socks?”

“No, no,” Fart Smeller said, his face growing pale. “That’s worse than gym socks—it’s The Wet Ones.”

FartMan’s eyes widened. “The Wet Ones?! Please tell me they’re not who I think they are.”

Fart Smeller nodded grimly. “Oh, they’re exactly who you think they are.”

Enter: The Wet Ones

Before FartMan could make a witty comeback, the ground beneath them began to rumble. The rusty old pipes of the Gasworks rattled violently as a growing, wet sound filled the air. Suddenly, the floor beneath them gave way, and a wave of disgusting, foul-smelling liquid flooded into the room.

From the murky depths of the gas-soaked sludge emerged The Wet Ones—a group of notorious flatulence-fueled villains, each more grotesque than the last. Leading the charge was Soggy Bottom, the hulking brute with control over liquid flatulence so powerful, he could flood entire buildings with his wet, stinky farts.

“Looks like you two are in over your heads!” Soggy Bottom roared, his voice booming as a giant wet fart echoed behind him, sending a tidal wave of toxic goo towards the heroes.

Behind him, the rest of The Wet Ones emerged. The Dribbler, constantly emitting slow, steady streams of wet gas; Slippery Steve, coating every surface with his slick, nauseating fumes; and the infamous Splatterblast, who could fire fart projectiles that dissolved anything they hit on impact.

FartMan groaned. “Not these guys again. Every time they show up, it takes weeks to clean up the mess.”

Fart Smeller, however, was already on the move, nose twitching like crazy. “FartMan, we need to be careful! These guys don’t just stink—they soak.”

As the noxious wave of fart water approached, FartMan took a deep breath and launched himself into the air with a thunderous Tornado Toot, propelling himself above the flood. “Don’t worry, Smeller! I’ll keep them busy from up here while you shut down whatever stink-bomb they’ve rigged this time!”

The Battle of Farts, Part 3: Wet and Wild

Soggy Bottom smirked as FartMan took to the air. “You can’t avoid the wet forever, FartMan! My farts will flood this city—one soggy street at a time!”

He unleashed another wet fart that sent a massive tidal wave of stench-filled liquid toward FartMan, but FartMan, ever nimble, dodged it mid-air with a series of acrobatic gas bursts. “Too slow, Soggy! I’ve dealt with worse smells in public restrooms!”

Meanwhile, down below, Fart Smeller was darting between the remaining Wet Ones, using his incredible sense of smell to guide him through the murky mess. “If I can just find the source of their stench,” he muttered, “I can disable their wet fart generator and stop this flood!”

The Wet Ones weren’t going to make it easy for him. Slippery Steve cackled as he coated the floors with his slimy gas, making everything impossibly slick. “Try to keep your balance, Smeller! Hope you’ve got non-slip shoes!”

Fart Smeller slipped and slid across the floor but managed to stay on his feet, his nose guiding him toward the center of the room. “Gotcha!” he whispered, his nose twitching furiously. In the far corner, hidden behind pipes, was the heart of the wet fart system—a massive valve connected to the entire city’s sewage lines.

“If they open this, Windopolis is gonna have more than just a plumbing problem,” Fart Smeller muttered.

A Smelly Standoff

Above, FartMan was still battling Soggy Bottom, dodging wave after wave of wet fart blasts. But just as he was about to launch a counter-attack, he noticed something alarming. The pipes surrounding them began to glow with a sickly green light—pressure was building.

“Smeller! Whatever you’re doing, do it fast! These pipes are about to blow!”

Fart Smeller didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted toward the wet fart valve, dodging one last fart projectile from Splatterblast and made a beeline for the control panel.

“Time to shut this stink-fest down!” he yelled, slamming his hand onto the emergency stop button.

But nothing happened.

“Uh-oh,” Fart Smeller muttered, looking at the control panel. “Looks like they rigged this thing with a failsafe.”

“Not so fast, Smeller!” a voice cackled from behind him. It was The Dribbler, slowly approaching with a stream of wet farts following behind him. “You didn’t think we’d make it that easy, did you?”

Thinking fast, Fart Smeller looked up at FartMan, who was still fending off Soggy Bottom. “FartMan! I need your help! We need to flush the system!”

FartMan grinned, eyes gleaming. “Say no more, Smeller. I’ve got just the thing.” With one powerful fart, he propelled himself toward the wet fart generator. “It’s time to use my secret weapon.”

Fart Smeller raised an eyebrow. “Wait… you mean…?”

FartMan landed next to the valve and assumed a dramatic pose. “That’s right, Smeller. It’s time for the Cleansing Wind!”

With a deep breath and a look of concentration, FartMan unleashed his most powerful attack yet—a gust so strong, so pure, it sent a wave of fresh, odorless air through the pipes, overpowering the Wet Ones’ foul stench and flooding the room with a clean breeze.

Victory (and Febreze)

The Wet Ones, caught off guard by the sudden wave of freshness, were knocked off their feet, their stink neutralized by FartMan’s cleansing gust. As the fart-fueled battle came to an end, the room was left surprisingly fresh, thanks to FartMan’s mighty wind.

Soggy Bottom groaned, lying in a puddle of his own failed stink. “No… how could this happen? We were supposed to be unstoppable!”

FartMan stood triumphantly over the defeated Wet Ones. “You should know by now, Soggy, you can’t out-fart the master.”

Fart Smeller, panting from the effort of dodging so many stink attacks, joined his partner. “Well, that was… intense.”

FartMan clapped him on the back. “Good work, Smeller. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Before they could celebrate their victory, however, the control panel crackled to life once more, and Lord Putrid’s ominous face appeared on the screen. “Well, well, FartMan. You may have defeated The Wet Ones, but don’t get too comfortable. The League of Pungency is far from finished. Soon, all of Windopolis will be mine.”

FartMan smirked. “We’ll see about that, Putrid.”

As the screen went dark, Fart Smeller’s nose twitched one last time. “Something tells me this is far from over.”

FartMan nodded, his eyes narrowing. “We’ll be ready. One stink at a time.”

TO BE CONTINUED…