"Gooooooood morning! It's a beautiful day on Oomuri Island, with clear blue skies and a calm breeze making it perfect beach weather. We're going to start your day with a traffic report to make sure you have time to plan your route to some classic rock today. No accidents today, but there's been an upswing in traffic due to the road work at the quarry off South Hill Road- looks like they're bringing new equipment to the excavation. We've got some of those endangered crabs moving across the beach near the Globotronics office on Saburo Drive, so the transit authority is offering alternate routes until the migration finish. For those of you already running late, I won't tell your boss if you use those little crabs as an excuse. Moving right into our classic rock block, it's Ratt with In Your Direction. Drive safe, folks, and crabs- keep on truckin'."

The early morning radio was one of the constants of life on Oomuri Island, a little blot of land in the middle of the Pacific ocean. Once upon a time, it had been a smaller island, uninhabited and unimportant amid the dozens of other islands nearby. Then Globotronics came around. Moving their HQ off-shore as part of a publicity stunt, they assured the general public that this wouldn't harm the island. So far, they were good to their word. Even the artificial land the Globotronics company sank into the ground hadn't messed up the local environment- beyond a few new coral formations settling in. The natural chunk of the island means parks, greenspace, lovely white-sand beaches, and natural habitats for animals. The piles of asphalt and slag Globotronics used to expand the island, however, mean high-density housing, industrial complexes, and warehouses abandoned from the rapid construction and subsequent layoffs. All in all, a unique island, overlooked by the massive Globotronics HQ building. A low crime rate, ethnically diverse population, and ready supply of jobs- whether for Globotronics or local small businesses- make Oomuri Island a wonderful place to live.
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Less wonderful, in the opinion of environmentalists, is the quarry just off-center of the island. The source of much of the stone used to build the residential districts, this quarry seemed utterly unnecessary and out of place. Nonetheless, it did provide jobs and much-needed stone, and the pools were home to unusual fish. Today, though, two outlandish figures stood overlooking the edge of the pit. One, a suit of armor looking like a typical green garden snake, took up a small sheet of seemingly ordinary paper emblazoned with the word "COBRA" and placed it in a slot on his waist. His helmet flaring out into a hood, the armor shifting to a dark purple, and he began advancing. The other, a monster made of ancient oil lamps and smoke, held up several cards marked with the word "CRIME" before throwing them into a pile of rubble. Five letters appeared in the air above some of the stones, before dropping into them. An unseen voice called out: "T-O-A-D-Y! FOLLOW THE LEADER! MEATSHIELD!" as a dozen papery-looking men climbed down the rubble before rushing at the man in the cobra costume, screeching out "EEEEEEEEE!".

Meanwhile, across the city, the back of your bingo cards begin glowing- and pulling towards the quarry.