Evil Is Pink (bxb)

Chapter 1

Sticks was born with a stick for a brain.

Like, actually.

A stick. The kind with dog slobber all over it. At least according to his dad. And his dad was always right. He was a scientist after all, so being right was sort of, kind of, totally his job.

Good thing too, because Sticks was almost never right. He might as well have been born with two left hands and two left feet. So, it was a very good thing that Sticks had a very right, very smart, very correct, very genius-like father, who could tell him everything he needed to do before Sticks had the chance to blow everything up with his incorrectness.

Like now.

Right now, Sticks was standing absolutely still, waiting for the signal. This part of the job always excited Sticks the most because he was very good at standing still. He was more than good. He was excellent. A professional. In fact, he was so good that if there were a standing still competition, he'd win a million dollars and be famous all across the internet as the world's greatest stand-stiller. Maybe then his father wouldn't think he was such a 'FISH STICK!!' all the time. Maybe—

Sticks heard the explosion before he saw it. A volcanic rumbling burst of bricks, cement, and other bits of the wall flew up into the air, trails of smoke following the pieces like the tails of a shooting star. Sticks squealed, flinching at the noise but above all, at the piece of rock that decided to smack him with a kiss right in his mouth. So much for being a champion stand-stiller—

The shiny butt of his father's greatest nemesis flew through the smoking hole in the wall. Manta, with his manta-ray inspired spandex outfit and manta-ray inspired gadgets (including a grappling hook that whipped forwards and backwards like the tail of a stingray), spun through the air, doing a series of quadruple flips before landing on the concrete with his legs sprawled and his body twisted in his signature pose. His laughter, a big "HO-HA-HO" of a guffaw, sent vibrations through the metal platform Sticks was standing on.

"Your reign of terror ends TODAY, Doctor King!"

Sticks felt the platform and steel girders judder as his father hacked and hawed over the declaration. Sticks's mouth felt like the aftermath of a poor decision to make out with a hive of bees, but the glorious sound of his father's laughter—as gentle and harmonic as an elephant birthing a jackhammer—shooed away all semblances of pain and swelling that Sticks might have been feeling.

"Aha! And here I was thinking about what a lovely day it was—" His father spun around with a gun in his hands, "—TO GO FISHING!"

Oh—! That's the cue!

Sticks snatched the tire shaped metal contraption next to him and leapt from his platform right as Dr. King sent a torrent of bullets towards his nemesis. Manta did a fine job twirling, rolling, and leaping away from the danger, but Sticks had seen this routine enough times to know how to get him. With a single motion, Sticks managed to catch up with the super hero and threw down the metal hoop around him. It was so easy, so devastatingly simple, that for a second, Sticks was stunned in place. He didn't even realize that there were squirts of fresh blue blood squirting out of the newly formed bullet holes on his pink skin.

Holy moly?!

"I did it?" His red, mop-like hair squiggled, first in confusion, and then in excitement. "I did?!" Sticks beamed with joy and pride, spinning his shining face towards his father, "Dad I got him! I—!"

"ACTIVATE THE STUNSILIZEEEER!!"

"O-Oh!" Sticks slapped the big red button below the bright yellow Post-it note stuck on it ('PRESS THIS'). Immediately, a flicker of electricity sparked across the big metal hoop, before a paralyzing shock wave went sizzling through Manta's body.