Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Unit

Chapter 117 - D*ckfaced 2.0

Chapter 117 - D*ckfaced 2.0

This is a deja vu. 

The grotesquely drawn, phallic-shaped tattoo on my cheek just wouldn't come off. Believe me—I tried everything short of fire. I scrubbed it again and again until my skin turned blotchy and red, the ink still defiantly visible like a curse carved by a permanent marker demon. Eventually, the redness around the outline made the whole thing look inflamed and even more obscene. That's when I gave up.

Defeated, I staggered out of the school lavatory, cheeks burning—not just from the rash, but from shame. Outside, Neil, Fei, and Myrrh were waiting for me like buzzards smelling a fresh carcass. The moment their eyes landed on my swollen, defiled left cheek, they erupted into merciless laughter.

"Pfft—WAHAHAHAHA!" Myrrh doubled over, slapping Neil's arm. He, too, wheezed like he'd been punched in the gut by a joke.

"It won't come off," I muttered with a tragic sob, my voice strained from both despair and fury. I threw them a glare sharp enough to flay skin. It didn't work—they kept laughing.

Fei, at least, attempted a semblance of empathy. "Um... Zaft... here." She held out a small green bottle like it was a sacred relic. "Try this."

I squinted at it suspiciously. "That better not be hydrogen peroxide again."

"No!" Fei shook her head frantically, her twintails bouncing in panic. "It's rubbing alcohol this time! The real deal! Look!" She shoved the label in my face—50% isopropyl alcohol, certified and all.

"Oh. Good." I sighed, fishing out my trusty pink handkerchief—my mom bought it for me, of all things—and poured a generous amount of alcohol onto it. Then, bracing myself, I began rubbing the offensive artwork off my face, praying to whatever god watched over college humiliation.

"Seriously though, you totally earned that dick on your face—again." Cindy's voice cut through the laughter like a dagger wrapped in glitter. She had been standing there the whole time, arms crossed, oozing smug satisfaction. I had been doing my best to ignore her presence—probably because she was the very same criminal who pinned me down earlier and redecorated my face for the second time with her artistic obscenity.

"Okay, okay—sorry! I did apologize earlier, didn't I?" I raised my hands in surrender, trying not to wince as the alcohol stung my cheek.

Cindy didn't budge. She stood there with one hand on her hip and the other gesturing in disgust, like a queen reprimanding her jester. "Do you think a half-assed apology magically erases the trauma of my reputation getting shredded in front of our whole class, dickface?" Her eyes flared with righteous indignation. "Would it have killed you not to roast me in public like some discount stand-up comedian?"

I sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright, alright. My bad. It won't happen again," I said in my most sincere voice... then muttered under my breath with a smirk, "At least, not for the rest of this school year."

I turned away from her volcanic rage and toward Neil, who was still wheezing like a dying hyena, practically choking on his laughter. His face was red, his body trembling, and yet I noticed something odd—the root-like scar crawling up his neck was beginning to pulse with a reddish-black hue. I squinted, concerned for a moment. But he seemed fine. Too fine, considering he was the one who sold me out earlier without hesitation.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Neil said between dying giggles. "This is karma, dude! Sweet, sweet karma! Remember when you made me give that stupid recitation about ostriches laying eggs in front of the entire class? This is payback! Might be late, but vengeance never expires!"