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This article, Lancer Johnson, is property of Billy cougar. |
| Lancer Johnson | |
|---|---|
 Lancer just as he is getting attacked by Undead horde | |
| Nickname(s) | Lance, doc, smart guy, old man, fart, dart, Docta |
| Appears in | World of War: Global Warfare |
| Rank | Scientist |
| Affiliations | Ian Jordan-James (Former) |
| Status | Deceased |
| Killed By | Zombie horde |
| Birth | 1977, Ashdod, Israel |
| Weapon | Stingray Pistol |
Lancer Johnson is a character in World of War: Global Warfare, he is a scientist that chemically created the undead horde. He was working together with Ian, before their rivalry started due to Lancer's envy because of Ian being smarter and more popular than him. He is killed by his own zombies. His rapping background was Hell Valley, and his opponent was the scientist that we just spoke of, Ian-Jordan James.
Own told Bio[]
Great Scott! Not! There's no time to explain, hot! It's me, Lancer Johnson from the World of War: Global Warfare game! If anything around here sparks or gets a bit explode-y… that's normal for my inventions. I'm a scientist/inventor and I invented some sorta Undead Plague (the Project did, relly) from the 1890's to make zombies outta humans! Pretty cool, eh? Egads! Those blasting gun shoots you hear are just Michael Baron – the precocious soldier teenager that I've hired to work as my purely platonic lab-assistant and aid me in my incredibly dangerous zombie experiments! Oh no! It's the Outworlders!!! They're here to settle the score after I lied about making them a bomb. Let's get out of here! I bet you're asking where we can run to… but I think the better question is WHEN can we run to?! The answer is THE FUTURE!
In Rap Battle[]
Verse 1[]
Great Scott! You're great... Not!
I spit it hot!
And generate way more power than 1.21 gigawatts!
I'm not sure what sort of scientific authority you purport to be.
But I'm a real doctor! Where'd you get your degree?!
Despite all your companions, you couldn't be having less sex.
I don't know what's lamer, your fans or your special effects.
You don't get another turn to debate. Time to face your permanent fate!
Now Dalek, his bowls!
Dalek:
EXTERMINATE! His bowls.
Ian:
(Is shoot in bawls, falls down)
I'm going to die... (Doctor...)
At least, this version of me... (Doctor?)
Perhaps you'd like another... (Doctor?)
Prepare to meet...
Verse 2 (Baron starts it, though)[]
Michael Baron:
Nobody calls me chicken!
Lancer:
This is between us, scarface. Don't try to out-rhyme me!
You'll find I'm as grimy as any slimy time limey.
I'll use your porta-potty time machine as my latrine!
You're not a cat with nine lives. You're a pussy with thirteen!