Fusion and Iron

16. Numbuh Two and Five vs. Captain Stickybeard

Three months passed.

Rays of the sun beamed, scorching the earth below it in a basking glow. The air hung heavy and still, devoid of even the slightest whisper of a breeze. Not a leaf stirred on the trees, and the gentle hum of cicadas filled the air, creating a tranquil symphony that echoed throughout the vast Sector V neighborhood. Shadows stretched lazily across the pavement, casting intricate patterns on the ground below. Granted there was a humid and dry atmosphere but there was a sense of serenity in it all. It was like a comforting blanket on a cold night, bringing just the right amount of coziness. It was a day for taking things slow, for savoring the simple pleasures of life and finding beauty in the stillness of the moment.

Its streets laid quiet, the occasional citizen or family spending this weekend outside in their backyards and public parks. There was a bit of normality in it all, a vast majority of men and women ignoring the large bundle of planets in the sky. They knew it was there, as well as the occasional fusion monster that roamed the earth, yet they still tried. The citizens of earth tried their best to resume life like how it was, living an American dream of picket fences and outside grills. By this point, any could have guessed that it was a strained comfort.
On an elevated hill overlooking a large portion of the suburbs, handfuls of people were at work. Sitting right beside one another were two S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s currently being packed with supplies. A platoon of boys and girls dressed in yellow shirts and badged blue vests currently armed them with crates full of ammunition, bigger guns, medical equipment, snacks, repair kits, and much more. They had a sense of urgency, a particular man in a purple scarf barking orders at them to move it. His gaze was serious, piercing yellow eyes which had a malice if looked at for too long. Sitting on his back was a large purple hammer and in his holster: a cherry red pop gun. Softly chewed on in his mouth was a stick of pink bubblegum, blown out a little bit.

Pop!

Occasionally one or two of the boys in line looked up at the man, though kept their heads down and continued the boarding train.
Standing together in their own little corner, two older figures were arming themselves up. Their bodies were covered in padded black armor, poorly painted letters of 'KND' spray painted on the front chests in gold. Since it wasn't a suit, neither of them had to worry about getting a heatstroke. However, if pushed for long enough, one of them could collapse from the extreme heat.

A dark-skinned hand held up a grape pop gun, the other smacking a magazine underneath it in place and loading it with a satisfying click. It spun once in her hand, then was holstered under her belt. She smacked the top of the gun twice on her waist before speaking, "Been waitin' for this day for a looooong time."

"You taking the charge on this one, Five?" The other agent asked. He was currently busy with a large weapon on the ground, fidgeting with a makeshift power core he had just whipped up for it: a microwave with a handful of wires attached to a fat-barreled gun.

"I don't mind if you call the shots, so long as I get Stickybeard," Five remarked, looking at her other pistol and eyeing it carefully. "Ever since operation A.F.L.O.A.T., Five's been itchin' for a good fight."
It took him a moment to recall that day as Two held a finger to his chin, then raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah, that was a rough one. Though, I still remember when we got saved and the pile of candy. Mm, caramel cannons~" he replied, sitting back and daydreaming a little bit.

The other pistol was stowed on her other hip. Afterwards she gently punched him in the shoulder, "Say, speakin' of caramel cannons. Once we get this whole thing done, Eddy says we get first pick on his loot."

"You're kidding." Two smiled.

She shook her head and gave him a toothy smile back, crossing her arms. "I ain't."