Evil Is Pink (bxb)

Chapter 22

The word "kill" seemed to have a profound effect on the giant, baby-faced, cheetah-suit, zombie mountain man. His black, unfocused eyes rolled upwards and his head began to spasm. Like an unhinged washing machine.

Manta stood in front of Tendril, holding his arms back, "Stand back citizen!"

The drones hissed. The nozzle and barrel of their guns clicked open, as Gorgo threw down the giant safe onto the pavement, rocking the world with its sheer weight. He roared, like a little girl accidentally wetting herself, and then charged towards them.

Manta whipped out his three section staff, still clearly under the impression that Tendril was just some rando. "On my honor as Seaweed City's Number One hero, I will stop you HERE and NOW—!" Manta began twirling his staff in front of him. "Prepare yourselves!! For I will be sending you all back into the porticos of JUSTICE—!!" Shrieking his battle cry, he started flinging the whirling staff to his sides and above and all around his huge body. The staff masterfully whipped around Manta's impressive, god-like curvature, with the skill and grace of an undisputed champion of martial arts. It was an awe-inspiring flurry, befitting of a grandmaster duelist, more than worthy of great praise and paean. Very cool.

Gorgo slapped Manta aside and he flew into the next building, disappearing into a puff of debris.

Tendril and Sticks leapt back in time to avoid the next swing. That's when the bullets started flying.

The drones shot forwards, their guns flashing as each bullet rebounded off of the translucent, violet tendrils that the teenager flung forwards to cover them. The last tendril, the fourth one, slithered around Sticks's waist—

"Go—!"

Sticks catapulted into the air, his arms covering his face, his knees covering his torso. He felt the bullets pierce his flesh—a painful sensation, but one that his father had prepared him for. But then, something else hooked into his arm and the next thing he knew, he felt himself being flung downwards.

Squid had fired a grappling hook into Sticks's arm and had spun gyroscopically in the air, using centrifugal force to slam Sticks onto the ground. Tensing, Sticks pulled at the hook in his arm, and then braced himself, landing on his feet on the pavement, instead of his face. He looked up, in time to see Squid land as well, shaking his hand loosely from having his grappling hook forced out of his grip.

Having faced Squid before, Sticks was all too aware of the gap between them. Despite being a simple, normal human, a Puritan, Sticks knew that he would have little chance outmaneuvering the sidekick. He would have to defeat him some other way. And he had to do it fast. There was no telling how long Tendril could keep Gorgo busy for—even if the warden seemed to lose all his smarts upon his revival. He gulped, thinking.

"Y-You do realize that Dr. King doesn't even have any money to pay you with, right?"

Squid blinked at him as though he were stupid. It's the same kind of look that made him cringe with nostalgia. Sticks wanted to punch that look in the face and tell it to get lost. The teenage sidekick pointed towards the giant metal safe.

"There's money right there."

Faster than a flash, Squid flicked his arm. Sticks registered the movement, and recognized the pellet coming his way. He raised his arms, squeezing his eyes shut, as the pellet exploded into a bubble of smoke. The force of it nearly took Sticks off his feet—he ducked, and felt a whiff of a strike fly over his head. He dodged the next one purely out of luck, but then felt something soft and meaty press into the symmetry of his chest, right below his neck.

Then came a sensation Sticks had never felt before. It was like having the world's largest bass speaker being pressed into his skin—he felt the thrum and vibrato of an invisible force bury itself into his chest. And then he flew.