Brock's consciousness expanded, a soft flowering of comprehension. The panicked shouts of the practice field players fleeing the erupting explosion were important, but no more important than the interplay of dust molecule over oxygen molecule as the first remnants of the ceiling started smashing into the ground around KB (Administrative)'s blasted shell. Bodies moved in chaotic patterns, but those patterns were easily predictable results of ongoing events.

Time entered a paradox of glacial slowness and instantaneous now.

That shitfuck killed KB (Administrative). I'm going to end him.

A drawn out voice in a low baritone thrummed through his skull, vibrating ocular bones at the same instant his leg muscles began to tense.

"Noooooo caaassssuuaaalllttiiiieessss BrooooooccckkkK!!!!!!"

Fucking Bindy. Probably not wrong though. Exploding everything around me would be rude to the Fancy Fleeces.

Brock reigned in his nuclear ignition jump, instead confining the burst of motion to a mere eardrum-rattling sonic boom as he forced air molecules to vacate their previously comfortable stable configurations for something more akin to a hypersonic missile launch than a leap.

Metal ends snkkted shut around a gloating neck before the explosions had time to finish their pyrotechnic orgasms.

"I... whut...?"

Brock ignored the startled exclamation as he kicked off a piece of falling debris, sending it to intercept another section that was about to crush several huddling people. He tucked the suddenly limp body under one arm as he continued to clear the air of dangerous pieces of former building via the simple expedient of volleying them at each other and using the reaction to send himself at the next piece. After a clamorous series of seconds spent approximating a pinball, the danger was finally averted, though the once pleasant indoor workout area now resembled the aftermath of a warzone, sunlight struggling to pierce the thick clouds of dust rising from the many impact craters pockmarking the grass and walls.

"...blork..."

The middle-aged man dangling under Brock's arm vomited profusely during their sod-spraying landing. "Uhhh, sorry," Brock apologized, looking across the mangled practice fields and wincing at the damage. He just knew the Director was going to say something sarcastic at him about it all. "You were being a real dick, and I had to make sure no one got hurt." He glanced at the smoking remains of KB (Administrative) and his voice hardened. "Other than those you already killed, I guess. I'm assuming you're from Earth? Like me?"

The balding man in a discount super-hero outfit gawped at him, a thin drool of spittle still hanging from his mouth.

"...what?!"

"Like," Brock began awkwardly, "you know what a taco is, right?"

"We have tacos!" a shrill voice blared in Brock's right ear and he lashed out instinctively, head turning a millisecond later to realize that his magiphone wasn't quite where he expected it to be and that the new hole he'd punched in the rapidly disintegrating walls did not include Bindy. He shook out his fist with a grimace, even though the pain was already gone, and dropped the man to the ground.

"Why aren't you exploding?!" The man scrabbled ineffectively at the metal collar around his neck, trying to stand. "What is this 'Limited' bullshit?! You can't do this to me! I'm the chosen one!"

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A small disc-shaped drone with a large cannon hanging underneath it swooped in through one of the holes in the wall and zapped the man with a buzzing blue ray, causing him to seize up and twitch, then fall unconscious. The drone did a brief tilt side to side, almost as if congratulating itself on a job well done, then turned to face Brock.

"Uhhh, hello?" Brock managed. "Why did you zap him? Who are you?"

"I zapped him because he was an irritating meatbag who deserved it, and because you have not yet been through the proper restraint of captives training."

Brock felt a flicker of hope in his chest.

"...KB (Administrative)?"

The drone did a quick somersault that Brock swore somehow radiated smug satisfaction.

"Who else would it be? One of the many, many pleasant upsides to being a vastly superior digital intellect instead of an inefficient sack of grotesque biology is that destroying one of my shells does not necessarily destroy me. Meatbag."

"Okay, that last one was definitely uncalled for," Brock said with a wide smile. He stepped over and raised his arms as if to hug the hovering drone, then realized what he was doing and dropped them sheepishly. "I'm glad you're not dead."

KB Administrative's response was cut short by the arrival of an angry group of dust-coated survivors.

"That's him! That's the Sekkie right there," Mark shouted, mohawk singed at the tips and smudges of dirt covering his face. "Fucker tried to kill all of us!"

Brock braced himself in a sudden panic, then realized the assorted soccer enthusiasts, including the Fancy Fleeces, were streaming past him and towards the unconscious man on the ground. "Thanks for saving us," Archibald muttered awkwardly as he passed by, the goblin cracking his knuckles with ominous pops. "Now we're gonna turn this asshole into paste."

"Uhhh, you're welcome? Also, I don't think-"

BWWRMMMMM

The sudden blat of sound from KB (Administrative)'s drone nearly caused Brock to wet himself, and the crowd working itself into a mob fell silent, everyone stumbling to a halt. A barrier of glowing blue runes appeared around the still-unconscious man.

"Greetings, citizens," KB (Administrative) said imperiously, "you may disperse. Nothing to see here. Official Cat Squad business. The situation is under control." Another line of runes appeared, creating a pathway through the rubble. "Please evacuate the building in a safe and orderly manner."

There were some sullen murmurs, but much to Brock's surprise, the group immediately abandoned their plans of physical retribution and retreated along the glowing blue pathway, several nodding their thanks as they left. Mark paused next to him and cleared his throat.

"So, uh, if you want to keep working on your skills me and the boys wouldn't mind training with you again. We're here almost every day now that behemoth-shearing season is over."

"More credits for the kaiju fund!" Chad cheered as he passed, and Archibald punched the android in the shoulder.

"Shut up, Chad. Don't be a dick."

The two continued on, bickering at each other, and Mark ran a hand over the shaved side of his head.

"Yeah, sorry about Chad," he sighed, "he's not the fastest chip on the circuit board. Look, it's not just about the credits. You're a weird-ass Sekkie, and that's not gonna change, but I'm pretty sure you saved us all right there, and, well, the system still says you haven't killed anyone and you move pretty well for someone who's never played soccer before. With a couple months of work you might actually be halfway decent, and we can always use another sub."

Brock almost passed out in shock.

"Are you... inviting me to your team?"

"On a provisional basis, and only if you keep working as hard as you did today, so if that's not something you're looking for then-"

"Yes! Heck yes! I'd love to be on the team!"

Mark gave Brock's exuberant acceptance an odd look, then shook his head as he took out his magiphone. "Still a weird-ass Sekkie though. Here's my contact info." He swiped something on his screen and a small chime sounded from Brock's pocket. "Ping me back and I'll get you added to the group chat."

The elf walked off, still shaking his head as Brock did a small dance, and then the vast room was empty except for the two Cat Squad members and the unconscious man. Brock heard the faint sound of sirens outside growing louder, but his focus was on one thing and one thing only.

"KB (Administrative)! Did you hear! I got invited to a team!"

"Good for you, meatbag. May your gross physical pursuits continue to inspire joy in the soggy lump of cells you consider a brain." The drone spun in a brief circle, then dipped down next to him. "Unfortunately, your day off is now cancelled. We need to go in for debriefing."

The world grew heavy and slow around Brock once more, but not even that was enough to dampen his jubilation.

I got invited to a team!