Grease sighed as she side stepped a chunk of masonry hurled like a baseball at her head, "You'd think I'd be having a lot more fun with this."
Balloon Boy's face was set with a fierce determination. He had grown to over ten feet in height and was stretching his limbs to their limits as he swung fists the size of bales of hay. Grease was forced to keep her distance, as she was vulnerable to area-effect attacks and his fists certainly qualified. She was quick enough to dodge projectiles, but when the blow covered an area of ten feet or more, it became much more difficult for her to evade. So while she was certainly faster than Balloon Boy, her refusal to use an attack targeting his vulnerability resulted in the current stalemate.
Balloon Boy let out a bellowing "STACY'S MOM!" as he lunged towards Grease once again, attempting to capture her. Despite his obvious intention to take her alive, he seemed unable to control his rage, which was manifesting in his physical form. Normally, he was characterized by smooth and flowing lines, like those of flowing water, but now he appeared jagged and rough, like a pile of rubble. Speaking of, throwing rubble was his current preferred attack, since he couldn't get close enough to land a blow. He pursued Grease around the open area behind the building, leaving destruction in their wake. Although they were tearing up the training yard, Grease figured it was better to fight there than cause harm to the surrounding neighborhood.
Grease quickly zoomed to the other side of the field, causing Balloon Boy to turn and chase after her, "I spent months trying to find a way to get revenge, you know." She deftly dodged as she kept up the banter. "I even dreamed of pinning you to a cork board like a giant butterfly. Not because of what you did to me, but because of the pain you inflicted on my friends." She shifted ten feet to the left, examining her nails nonchalantly as a piece of guardrail flew past her. "But if I had known how pitiful you were, I wouldn't have wasted my time." she added with a sneer.
Balloon Boy actually paused at this. He just stared at her, looking puzzled.
She looked up, "Oh? I mean, I spent all that time chasing after you, but in the end, you were just horny for me. I really thought I screwed up there, but apparently I was so amazing in bed you came all the way here for another go. Was I that good, or is your new team that ugly?"
A moment of silence passed before Balloon Boy's face turned a deep shade of red. His exposed skin followed suit as he let out a monstrous howl of anger and dug his hands into the ground like massive shovels. Grease watched in disbelief as he somehow lifted a massive bowl of earth, about twenty feet wide, out the ground. Holding the giant, inverted dirt dome overhead, he turned away. Grease squinted, trying to figure out his next move.
What he was doing was heading for the main road.
"Oh Fuck." Grease cursed as she was about to rush ahead, when she heard a voice in her head.
Wanderer's thoughts popped into Grease's mind, ~We have an update about the memetic infection. It isn't a lust virus. I repeat, it is NOT a lust virus. It is a REGRET virus. Hope this helps.~
Grease looked confused, "Regret? Wait. Does that mean...?"
Thankfully, the Rascal's base wasn't in a populated area, but in a warehouse slash industrial zone. This was partially because it minimized the risk of innocent bystanders getting caught in any crossfire should the base be attacked. The other part was since they used Teleportation as their primary mode of transportation, so they could set up their base where the rent was cheap. But just because they didn't use vehicles to get around, that didn't mean there the area was completely devoid of civilians. You just needed to travel a bit to find some. Alas, Balloon boy demonstrated an ability Grease didn't think he could while holding that much weight.
He bounced.
As Balloon Boy soared into the sky, Grease realized that he was targeting something or someone in the distance. Without a moment's hesitation, she raced down the back access behind their base to reach the main delivery road and find whoever was in danger. However, Balloon Boy was clearly aware of her personality and was counting on her reaction. He had come bouncing in on the way here and knew that the end of the access road came out between two buildings.
A choke point.
Balloon Boy clutched the massive chunk of earth in both hands and broke it into two chunks. Squeezing as he threw, the dirt became a shower of debris. Grease, despite her speed, needed traction to move effectively and the first clump of dirt filled the narrow alleyway with a cloud of dust and scattered soil. Recognizing the danger, she attempted to slide out onto the road. With Grease now moving in a straight line, instead of weaving and dodging, Balloon Boy took aim and let loose with his remaining projectile.
His aim was true.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
Jack was staring at Nth Factorial with a disbelieving glare. The robotic face glitched for a second then said, "Classified."
Jack waved his hands in the air over his head energetically, "Well, Unclassify it!"
"Authorization received."
Jack frowned, "Oh I don't like the sound of that..."
"Unit Jack Cooper, also known as Jack Trades, your personality assessment, psychological trauma, and past history suggests there is a 21.6% chance that you are associated with the notorious terrorist group known as The Honey Badgers. Your encounter with the international criminal Mister Od, while it may have a reasonable explanation, raises suspicion that you may have been recruited by the organization."
A still photo from the pastry shop video was displayed on the monitor. The image was the absolutely worst possible frame, showing jack in the moment where his red aura was crackling out of his eyes from rage.
"The fact that you appear in the same video that is spreading a memetic virus could be a mere coincidence, or it could be an attempt to implicate you, or it could be an attempt to establish a cover. What better plausible deniability could you have than stating 'who would be so stupid as use their own face in the very virus they created'? Your demonstrated ability to manipulate memetic structures, while seen as a potential asset, is also a potential threat. It could be used to spread an even more harmful memetic agent. By my calculations, your plan will undoubtedly involve me granting you access to every public broadcast medium in Empire City. There is a small, but not insignificant chance that this whole chain of events was engineered to put you in this very situation."
Everyone turned to look at Jack as he started to grow pale, realizing that he was not as below the radar as he imagined.
"You refused to register as a cape, yet now attempt to undertake a civic act for the benefit of others without a clear motive. This raises concerns because your actions are inconsistent with your reputation. In the absence of a discernible reason for your actions, this unit doubts that your intentions are as altruistic as they appear. Combine all this evidence with your untreated mental illness, and this unit assesses that the risk is too great to justify the reward."
Jack felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. He struggled to catch his breath as he stood there, completely taken aback, having been absolutely eviscerated by a machine of all things. His scopophobia, the fear of being the center of attention, cranked up to eleven. He felt the gaze of everyone in the room upon him. He could handle the negative judgment of strangers, but the thought of Ivy witnessing this was unbearable.
Jack glanced at Ivy from the corner of his eye and saw a newfound look of doubt and suspicion in her eyes. The thought of her judging him and finding him unworthy was a pain he had never felt before. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he forced himself to look away from her and focus on the monitor. When he spoke, his voice cracked, but he pushed ahead knowing he had nothing left to lose, "You are acting on faulty assumptions." He said with a certainty he didn't feel.
Nth Factorial glitched for a moment, "Define these faulty assumptions."
Jack walked closer, "I am from another universe where sexual morality is reversed. Males acting as females and vice versa in terms of mating strategy."
Nth Factorial was quiet for a moment, "Assumptions adjusted. The unit is still unclear as to how this affects my calculations."
Jack closed his eyes as he spoke, "I think I'm in love Myrtle Fields."
Ivy's jaw dropped open as many others raised their eyebrows.
With tight fists, Jack made a conscious effort not to meet anyone's gaze, instead focusing his attention on the monitor in front of him. "From the moment I bumped into her and spilled her groceries, I wanted her. She seemed like... me. She was someone who had seen her aspirations crushed by a cruel and indifferent world, watched her dreams stomped flat in front of her out of spite and malice." He took a deep breath and looked at the ground with more than a hint of shame, "But unlike me, she never gave up. She keeps trying to be a better person. While I figured if I can't beat'em, join'em." He relaxed his hands and stared at them as if the faint scars upon them told a terrible story, "To her, being a hero isn't just a dream, it's a reality. She's a better person than I, and every time I'm near her..." He looked up at the monitor and spoke like a man who was completely exhausted and just wanted to go to bed, "She feels like home."
"To be honest, I don't have any particular affection for people. I don't like them, but I don't dislike them either. But I have to live in this world. I mean, HEY-" Jack made a sweeping gesture to indicate everything around him, "It's where I keep my stuff!" He dropped his hands to his sides, "But if that's not enough reason for you to believe me..." He gestured towards Ivy, not meeting her gaze, "I want her to want me. Therefore, I need to make some changes. So... you want to know my motivation?" He threw his hands in the air.
"I JUST want to kiss the girl!"
By the end, Jack was literally shaking. It would have been easier to scoop out his own eyes with a spoon than bare his soul to a room full of strangers, much less to the one person who's opinion mattered most to him, but he did it anyways.
The room was perfectly silent.
Ivy opened her mouth, but Nth Factorial spoke first, "Tell me what your plan is."
But before Jack could reply, Wanderer interrupted.
"Grease is in trouble."
Grease is used to being unconscious.
Normally how this works is, someone hits her really hard, she goes down, but a minute or so later she pops back up. Her recovery time was amazing so for her, getting knocked out was no big deal, but this was different. Normally she got beaten into the ground, then the attacker moved on, or her teammate would take the pressure off. Either way, she wouldn't know what was happening. However, Balloon Boy wasn't just beating her into the ground. No, this was something entirely different.
Balloon Boy had previously shared with Grease that his fist weren't just huge, they could also be adjusted to be softer. He preferred to use these 'soft punches' as they were more effective in disabling someone rather than causing serious harm. This approach was in line with his aversion to killing people. As a result, Grease wasn't being knocked out but rather was experiencing a state of being that is known as 'Stun Locked'.
It was hard to tell what was going on. At one point she thought he was helping her to her feat, but it was just to set up a punch that send her flying. Even if he was using his so-called 'soft punches', she was taking a beating. This wasn't something you did to win. This was something you did to punish someone. She started to come back around when Balloon Boy finally paused. At first she thought he was just running out of steam. He was holding her in one hand, his other one pulled back to take aim and...
Nothing.
Well, not nothing. It took her a bit to put it together. Currently she was pinned against a telephone pole that was at a rather odd angle from all the blows she had taken while being held against it. The ringing in her ears made it difficult to pick it what was happening at first, but eventually it cleared up enough for her to hear again.
He was crying.
He kept trying to form words, to say something, but all that came out were lyrics from that damn song. He just stood there, trembling. His fist ready to strike, but he couldn't anymore. There was just this air of sadness about him.
No. Not sadness.
Regret.
Grease weakly lifted up a hand and grabbed his massive thumb, but instead of trying to pull herself free, she just gave it a light pat, "I get it now." she mumbled.
Balloon Boy blinked.
Grease reassuringly stroked his hand while she talked like a punch drunk boxer, "It's okay. I hear you. Sorry I didn't try to listen before." She smiled softly and looked at him quite sympathetically with the one eye she had that wasn't currently swollen shut.
Balloon Boy's stance became unsteady as his form lost its edge. He carefully lowered Grease until her feet were touching the ground again. He looked to the side, his face a mask of turmoil from the roiling emotions inside him. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He reached out tentatively, tenderly, touching her bruised and battered face. As he tried to speak, he struggled to utter anything but the lyrics stuck in his head. He swallowed deep as he forced his lips together and pushed back against the virus assaulting his mind.
Then The Golden Knight plunged Shisui deep into Balloon Boy's back.
Grease sighed as she side stepped a chunk of masonry hurled like a baseball at her head, "You'd think I'd be having a lot more fun with this."
Balloon Boy's face was set with a fierce determination. He had grown to over ten feet in height and was stretching his limbs to their limits as he swung fists the size of bales of hay. Grease was forced to keep her distance, as she was vulnerable to area-effect attacks and his fists certainly qualified. She was quick enough to dodge projectiles, but when the blow covered an area of ten feet or more, it became much more difficult for her to evade. So while she was certainly faster than Balloon Boy, her refusal to use an attack targeting his vulnerability resulted in the current stalemate.
Balloon Boy let out a bellowing "STACY'S MOM!" as he lunged towards Grease once again, attempting to capture her. Despite his obvious intention to take her alive, he seemed unable to control his rage, which was manifesting in his physical form. Normally, he was characterized by smooth and flowing lines, like those of flowing water, but now he appeared jagged and rough, like a pile of rubble. Speaking of, throwing rubble was his current preferred attack, since he couldn't get close enough to land a blow. He pursued Grease around the open area behind the building, leaving destruction in their wake. Although they were tearing up the training yard, Grease figured it was better to fight there than cause harm to the surrounding neighborhood.
Grease quickly zoomed to the other side of the field, causing Balloon Boy to turn and chase after her, "I spent months trying to find a way to get revenge, you know." She deftly dodged as she kept up the banter. "I even dreamed of pinning you to a cork board like a giant butterfly. Not because of what you did to me, but because of the pain you inflicted on my friends." She shifted ten feet to the left, examining her nails nonchalantly as a piece of guardrail flew past her. "But if I had known how pitiful you were, I wouldn't have wasted my time." she added with a sneer.
Balloon Boy actually paused at this. He just stared at her, looking puzzled.
She looked up, "Oh? I mean, I spent all that time chasing after you, but in the end, you were just horny for me. I really thought I screwed up there, but apparently I was so amazing in bed you came all the way here for another go. Was I that good, or is your new team that ugly?"
A moment of silence passed before Balloon Boy's face turned a deep shade of red. His exposed skin followed suit as he let out a monstrous howl of anger and dug his hands into the ground like massive shovels. Grease watched in disbelief as he somehow lifted a massive bowl of earth, about twenty feet wide, out the ground. Holding the giant, inverted dirt dome overhead, he turned away. Grease squinted, trying to figure out his next move.
What he was doing was heading for the main road.
"Oh Fuck." Grease cursed as she was about to rush ahead, when she heard a voice in her head.
Wanderer's thoughts popped into Grease's mind, ~We have an update about the memetic infection. It isn't a lust virus. I repeat, it is NOT a lust virus. It is a REGRET virus. Hope this helps.~
Grease looked confused, "Regret? Wait. Does that mean...?"
Thankfully, the Rascal's base wasn't in a populated area, but in a warehouse slash industrial zone. This was partially because it minimized the risk of innocent bystanders getting caught in any crossfire should the base be attacked. The other part was since they used Teleportation as their primary mode of transportation, so they could set up their base where the rent was cheap. But just because they didn't use vehicles to get around, that didn't mean there the area was completely devoid of civilians. You just needed to travel a bit to find some. Alas, Balloon boy demonstrated an ability Grease didn't think he could while holding that much weight.
He bounced.
As Balloon Boy soared into the sky, Grease realized that he was targeting something or someone in the distance. Without a moment's hesitation, she raced down the back access behind their base to reach the main delivery road and find whoever was in danger. However, Balloon Boy was clearly aware of her personality and was counting on her reaction. He had come bouncing in on the way here and knew that the end of the access road came out between two buildings.
A choke point.
Balloon Boy clutched the massive chunk of earth in both hands and broke it into two chunks. Squeezing as he threw, the dirt became a shower of debris. Grease, despite her speed, needed traction to move effectively and the first clump of dirt filled the narrow alleyway with a cloud of dust and scattered soil. Recognizing the danger, she attempted to slide out onto the road. With Grease now moving in a straight line, instead of weaving and dodging, Balloon Boy took aim and let loose with his remaining projectile.
His aim was true.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
Jack was staring at Nth Factorial with a disbelieving glare. The robotic face glitched for a second then said, "Classified."
Jack waved his hands in the air over his head energetically, "Well, Unclassify it!"
"Authorization received."
Jack frowned, "Oh I don't like the sound of that..."
"Unit Jack Cooper, also known as Jack Trades, your personality assessment, psychological trauma, and past history suggests there is a 21.6% chance that you are associated with the notorious terrorist group known as The Honey Badgers. Your encounter with the international criminal Mister Od, while it may have a reasonable explanation, raises suspicion that you may have been recruited by the organization."
A still photo from the pastry shop video was displayed on the monitor. The image was the absolutely worst possible frame, showing jack in the moment where his red aura was crackling out of his eyes from rage.
"The fact that you appear in the same video that is spreading a memetic virus could be a mere coincidence, or it could be an attempt to implicate you, or it could be an attempt to establish a cover. What better plausible deniability could you have than stating 'who would be so stupid as use their own face in the very virus they created'? Your demonstrated ability to manipulate memetic structures, while seen as a potential asset, is also a potential threat. It could be used to spread an even more harmful memetic agent. By my calculations, your plan will undoubtedly involve me granting you access to every public broadcast medium in Empire City. There is a small, but not insignificant chance that this whole chain of events was engineered to put you in this very situation."
Everyone turned to look at Jack as he started to grow pale, realizing that he was not as below the radar as he imagined.
"You refused to register as a cape, yet now attempt to undertake a civic act for the benefit of others without a clear motive. This raises concerns because your actions are inconsistent with your reputation. In the absence of a discernible reason for your actions, this unit doubts that your intentions are as altruistic as they appear. Combine all this evidence with your untreated mental illness, and this unit assesses that the risk is too great to justify the reward."
Jack felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. He struggled to catch his breath as he stood there, completely taken aback, having been absolutely eviscerated by a machine of all things. His scopophobia, the fear of being the center of attention, cranked up to eleven. He felt the gaze of everyone in the room upon him. He could handle the negative judgment of strangers, but the thought of Ivy witnessing this was unbearable.
Jack glanced at Ivy from the corner of his eye and saw a newfound look of doubt and suspicion in her eyes. The thought of her judging him and finding him unworthy was a pain he had never felt before. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he forced himself to look away from her and focus on the monitor. When he spoke, his voice cracked, but he pushed ahead knowing he had nothing left to lose, "You are acting on faulty assumptions." He said with a certainty he didn't feel.
Nth Factorial glitched for a moment, "Define these faulty assumptions."
Jack walked closer, "I am from another universe where sexual morality is reversed. Males acting as females and vice versa in terms of mating strategy."
Nth Factorial was quiet for a moment, "Assumptions adjusted. The unit is still unclear as to how this affects my calculations."
Jack closed his eyes as he spoke, "I think I'm in love Myrtle Fields."
Ivy's jaw dropped open as many others raised their eyebrows.
With tight fists, Jack made a conscious effort not to meet anyone's gaze, instead focusing his attention on the monitor in front of him. "From the moment I bumped into her and spilled her groceries, I wanted her. She seemed like... me. She was someone who had seen her aspirations crushed by a cruel and indifferent world, watched her dreams stomped flat in front of her out of spite and malice." He took a deep breath and looked at the ground with more than a hint of shame, "But unlike me, she never gave up. She keeps trying to be a better person. While I figured if I can't beat'em, join'em." He relaxed his hands and stared at them as if the faint scars upon them told a terrible story, "To her, being a hero isn't just a dream, it's a reality. She's a better person than I, and every time I'm near her..." He looked up at the monitor and spoke like a man who was completely exhausted and just wanted to go to bed, "She feels like home."
"To be honest, I don't have any particular affection for people. I don't like them, but I don't dislike them either. But I have to live in this world. I mean, HEY-" Jack made a sweeping gesture to indicate everything around him, "It's where I keep my stuff!" He dropped his hands to his sides, "But if that's not enough reason for you to believe me..." He gestured towards Ivy, not meeting her gaze, "I want her to want me. Therefore, I need to make some changes. So... you want to know my motivation?" He threw his hands in the air.
"I JUST want to kiss the girl!"
By the end, Jack was literally shaking. It would have been easier to scoop out his own eyes with a spoon than bare his soul to a room full of strangers, much less to the one person who's opinion mattered most to him, but he did it anyways.
The room was perfectly silent.
Ivy opened her mouth, but Nth Factorial spoke first, "Tell me what your plan is."
But before Jack could reply, Wanderer interrupted.
"Grease is in trouble."
Grease is used to being unconscious.
Normally how this works is, someone hits her really hard, she goes down, but a minute or so later she pops back up. Her recovery time was amazing so for her, getting knocked out was no big deal, but this was different. Normally she got beaten into the ground, then the attacker moved on, or her teammate would take the pressure off. Either way, she wouldn't know what was happening. However, Balloon Boy wasn't just beating her into the ground. No, this was something entirely different.
Balloon Boy had previously shared with Grease that his fist weren't just huge, they could also be adjusted to be softer. He preferred to use these 'soft punches' as they were more effective in disabling someone rather than causing serious harm. This approach was in line with his aversion to killing people. As a result, Grease wasn't being knocked out but rather was experiencing a state of being that is known as 'Stun Locked'.
It was hard to tell what was going on. At one point she thought he was helping her to her feat, but it was just to set up a punch that send her flying. Even if he was using his so-called 'soft punches', she was taking a beating. This wasn't something you did to win. This was something you did to punish someone. She started to come back around when Balloon Boy finally paused. At first she thought he was just running out of steam. He was holding her in one hand, his other one pulled back to take aim and...
Nothing.
Well, not nothing. It took her a bit to put it together. Currently she was pinned against a telephone pole that was at a rather odd angle from all the blows she had taken while being held against it. The ringing in her ears made it difficult to pick it what was happening at first, but eventually it cleared up enough for her to hear again.
He was crying.
He kept trying to form words, to say something, but all that came out were lyrics from that damn song. He just stood there, trembling. His fist ready to strike, but he couldn't anymore. There was just this air of sadness about him.
No. Not sadness.
Regret.
Grease weakly lifted up a hand and grabbed his massive thumb, but instead of trying to pull herself free, she just gave it a light pat, "I get it now." she mumbled.
Balloon Boy blinked.
Grease reassuringly stroked his hand while she talked like a punch drunk boxer, "It's okay. I hear you. Sorry I didn't try to listen before." She smiled softly and looked at him quite sympathetically with the one eye she had that wasn't currently swollen shut.
Balloon Boy's stance became unsteady as his form lost its edge. He carefully lowered Grease until her feet were touching the ground again. He looked to the side, his face a mask of turmoil from the roiling emotions inside him. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He reached out tentatively, tenderly, touching her bruised and battered face. As he tried to speak, he struggled to utter anything but the lyrics stuck in his head. He swallowed deep as he forced his lips together and pushed back against the virus assaulting his mind.
Then The Golden Knight plunged Shisui deep into Balloon Boy's back.
