Contributing Author: Haylock

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Trey's thoughts swam and his head pounded as his vision slowly cleared of stars. [Awareness] politely informed him that he was recovering faster than usual from Daizy’s abrupt departure, but he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. On one hand, it was always nice to improve at something. On the other, he was improving at taking face-first falls...

“All right. Who is ready to see some magic?” someone asked with his mouth. His jaw was still a little sore from the stairs.

Trey was about to enquire who had taken control, but then the rest of the Fire Force hooted and hollered inside his skull.

Ugh. Give me a moment to recover before you guys scream. I just turned into a ragdoll, okay?

Flamagan laughed, making Trey’s voice sound gruff and gravelly.

“Good to see you too, kid. Nice work with that Jill lass, by the way. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Four aphids fistbumped his consciousness. It felt like a series of blows directly to the brain, and it definitely didn’t help with his headache.

Flamagan cast Trey’s eyes over the rest of the group.

“Tater, Cratherine—it’s a pleasure to meet you. Before we get this party started, I believe you had something for me?”

Cratherine rotated her head at an unnatural angle.

“I do not understand.”

“You’re a fuel crate, right? Let me taste those sweet, sweet juices, baby.”

Tater Tot took a protective step forward, but before he could say anything, Cratherine lay a metal hand over his shoulder.

“It is fine, love. He is referring to my fuel.”

She strode forward, leaned down over Trey’s body, and began feeding him like a mama bird. He expected an acidic, poisonous taste, but it was… sweet. Almost delicate.

[Quest: We’ve Got Fire, Baby] Complete!

Issuing [Reward]...

🏆 [REWARD] 🏆 [Holy Fire] (Novice)

Flamagan belched.

“Oh yeah, baby. That’s the good stuff. Let’s get this bugdamned party started!”

He turned Trey's body and kicked the door open to reveal a scene of chaos.

Pirates were everywhere, strewn through the room like barnacles beneath flotsam. They were pushing their way onto tables, and while security was doing their best to quell the disputes and brawls that were already breaking out, their number was too few.

“Oh,” Flamagan said, feeling entirely too excited for Trey’s liking. “This is gonna be good. Administer the dru—er, medicine. Administer the medicine, Fire Force.”

“Aye sir,” came the response of four voices.

Wait, Trey tried. But then his headache started to fade. We don't have to—oooooOOOOOoooooh.

Trey’s vision turned into a kaleidoscope of wonder, and rainbows started to immediately bloom from every source of light within the room.

That’s nice.

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Flamagan felt Trey relaxing, and a grin slowly spread over his face. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone step from the shadows and grab Tater Tot under his arms.

“Hyaaaaa!” the luchador-masked assailant yelled, lifting and throwing the unsuspecting spud to the ground.

"Hot damn!" Skulldeath shouted. "That was a perfect Full Nelson Slam! Look at the form!"

“Tater!” Cratherine cried out, extending a powerful robotic arm to assist her love.

Two more shadows coalesced around the stairs. The first knelt down behind the deadly robot, and the second blasted into her chest, sending her tumbling over backward.

“Aiiiiieeee!” she yelled, crashing down to the ground with a heavy thump, cracking the concrete.

"Oh, shit!" announced Skulldeath. "A two-man Table Top! And look at the synchronization! These guys mean business!"

“Attack from the rear!” Flamagan yelled, whirling and placing his back to the wall.

The luchadores had Tater Tot and Cratherine pinned to the ground. More luchador-mask-wearing fiends faded into view, throwing their weight around to hold down the potato and the killing machine.

"Ohhhh! That's an illegal move!" Skulldeath was practically giddy. "Where is the ref?"

Flamagan extended nozzles from his hands, but he couldn't unleash his [Holy Fire]; it would spray over everyone and have a devastating effect on Cratherine and the Tot.

"We can't have another repeat of '97..." Anna-Flynn said.

Flamagan clenched his jaw.

"I know that, Anna-Flynn! I'm holding fire, aren't I? Give me solutions!"

"Sorry, Captain! At least the dose I administered will keep the Host protected if we have to commit some war crimes."

"Wait - I administered the dose," Skulldeath said.

"Wait, what? I administered a dose, too..." Branagan added.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Oh, no..." Tamarin almost whispered, her voice filled with fear.

By the tremor Flamagan felt from Tamarin, he knew she had also provided the Host with a full dose of their favorite brand of hallucinogen.

"You all administered the dose?" Flamagan screeched. "Why?"

"Y-you said Fire Force! I just assumed you meant me!" Anna-Flynn replied, flustered.

It took all of Flamagan's impressive will not to smile or let the rest of his squad feel his joy.

All was going to plan; it was hard to find good test subjects, and the Host would be fine after a little rest.

Probably.

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Trey's face was melting away–it was wonderful. He scooped it back up and put it into place with a giggle.

As it reformed, he raised an eyebrow at a blob of darkness that approached. The world was awash with rainbows and dancing fairies that folded in on themselves, making the lone splodge of black stand out as an anomaly.

Hello, friend. What are you?

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A shadow flowed into Flamagan's peripheral vision and he whirled to face it.

A luchador-masked attacker dashed at him with both arms fully extended in a classic Maruto-ninja run, intending to catch him with a clothesline. With how close his enemy was, Flamagan wasn’t sure if he had time to dodge. He gritted his teeth instead, then prepared to take the blow.

A ball of muscle and pizza boxes flew out of the heavens, and Vice Roid–who must have finished his earlier errand–unleashed a roar. He slammed into the back of the incoming clothesline, wrapping his arms around the assailant’s waist, leaving the ‘za behind to defend Trey. He grunted, bent at his knees. His biceps ballooned with pure, deadly power, and a tiny face appeared above one of his bulging veins.

"Bro! Is it lifting time?"

Vice Roid tried to lift, but when the attacker didn't budge, his eyes widened in panic.

“Is… is this my limit? This thing’s made of metal. He’s a robot. Can I even lift this much weight?”

His bicep muscle called out in encouragement, “You totally can! Dig deep, bro!”

"But what if he's too heavy for me? What if it's the same as last time...? I..." Vice Roid gulped, his eyes going wide. "I..."

Two arms appeared behind Vice Roid, one covered in animal print, the other thick as a log and shielded in impossibly thick hair. They wrapped around his waist.

"Cheetah Brains? S-Stew? W-what are you guys doing here?"

Both men’s heads appeared over either of the bodybuilder’s shoulders, and they hugged him tight, pulling the luchador-masked robot further into the submissive hold.

"We're so sorry. We came to apologize… we let the job get in the way of more important things," Cheetah Brains leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. "We love you, bro. You’re more than just our boss. Your our friend."

"He's right," Stew agreed. He leaned in tenderly, planting a delicate kiss on Vice Roid’s cheekbone. "We love you, bro."

Vice Roid chuckled as Stew's beard tickled his face, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Cheetah Brains’s tail arched up and wiped the tear away, using just the tip.

"Y-you guys," Vice Roid said, lips quivering, as his two friends held him tight. “I can’t begin tell you what this means to me.”

"Yo," Skulldeath whispered, interrupting the moment. "Aren’t we in the middle of a fi—"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME, SON!" Vice Road bellowed, muscles erupting. He lowered into a deeper squat, pulling in power from the earth. The roots that had grown into him after the evil heart incident pulsed with strength, lending their assistance, glowing with primal green light. Then, rippling with force, he lifted the luchador-masked robot.

Stew and Cheetah Brains let go and slid out of the way, pride etched on their features as the robot soared ever higher.

"No way..." Skulldeath whispered. "Is that...?"

"WHO'S GONNA CARRY THE BOATS?!" Vice Roid’s bicep yawped as the bodybuilder bent over backward, hurtling the attacker down onto the back of its neck.

"A perfect suplex!" Skulldeath screamed, causing the Host's skull to vibrate.

The suplex'd robot stayed down as Vice Roid rolled over and was helped to his feet by Stew and Cheetah Brains. There was a swift flurry of chest bumps and tuchus smacks, then all three turned to face the rest of the luchador-masked robotic ninjas.

Vice Roid flexed.

"Who's ready to lift?"

Stew set a ladle against the muscular man's chest.

"Wait. We have something better."

"You do?"

"Yeah, bro," Cheetah Brains responded, reaching into a pouch on his stomach.

"What the fuck?" Skulldeath asked as the cat-man rummaged around within it. "Isn't that a marsupial thing?"

Cheetah Brains removed a small metal cube from within, holding it out for Vice Roid to see.

"It's an override token."

"Yeah, I know what it is—Dr. Hugo Hugo leaves them everywhere, but that's because no one knows how to use them."

Stew placed a supporting hand on Vice Roid's posterior deltoid.

"No one except for us, buddy."

"W-what do you mean?"

"It's friendship–that’s the key. You can’t use an override token without it. There are limits to its power, but it should easily work for this small amount of robots..."

Vice Roid clenched his jaw and nodded.

"What do we need to do?"

Turning his head, Stew looked over at Tater Tot, whose eyes were wide as he watched on. The burly chef smiled.

"We just need one more bro, bro."

The two men and the one cat-man moved as a unit: Cheetah Brains and Vice Roid stepped behind Stew; Vice Roid extended the fingers on his right hand, and Cheetah Brains intertwined them with the fingers of his left hand. Stew spun and ran at them, jumped high, then kicked off their clasped support. They launched upward as he leapt, causing the chef to fly high overhead, rotating with supreme grace with his arms open wide.

"N...no way..." Skulldeath's voice was filled with awe as he and the rest of the Fire Force watched the cauldron of a man soar. "I never thought I'd see a Tropa Suicida. It's beautiful. I’m going to cry. I can feel the tears coming…"

Stew's head slammed into the luchador pinning Tater Tot, and his arms connected with the necks of those stabilizing the illegal pin. All three enemies were sent flying as Stew gracefully flipped to land on his feet. The giant man held down a hand for the Tot, and the tuber clasped it. As Tater got back to his feet, the others were already there, and they formed a circle with their arms draped over each other's shoulders.

They started spinning slowly, muttering underneath their breath.

Flamagan, transfixed by the ritual of camaraderie, could do nothing but watch.

The muttering increased in pitch, turning into a chant.

"For the boys. For the boys. For the boys. For the boys."

The square cube hovered between them, and a soft light emitted from its corners.

"FOR THE BOYS. FOR THE BOYS. FOR THE BOYS! FOR THE BOOOYS!"

The cube glowed white, and Flamagan had to shield even his heat and light resistant eyes.

"FOR THE BOOOOOOOOOOOYS!"

Lightning arc'd from the cube and the chanting buddies, shooting out into the room. It zapped into each of the robots; beneath their masks, their LED eyes went red, then slowly faded to a calm, passive white. As one they stood–even the machine that was incapacitated Vice Roid's Suplex. The machines stood tall, puffing out their chest and dropping their shoulders back.

They spoke as one, their voices robotic and their luchador masks lit from behind by an angelic light.

"Beep. Boop. For the… boys."

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A smirk spread over Flamagan's face, and he raised his hands.

While they had been fighting at the back entrance to the casino, the room had devolved even further into chaos. Discontent with merely gambling, the pirates had begun pillaging. New Citizens, from wealthy businessmen to elder tycoons, were piling together in a far corner, backing away from the advancing corsairs. One barnacle-bejeweled cutthroat jabbed forward with a saber. With his thrust, metal brooches, belt buckles—and even a dagger held in the shaking hand of a retreating gambler—started rusting away.

"Foul pirate!" the man formerly wielding a dagger yelled as he jabbed a pudgy finger forward. "You'll pay for this! I—uuaaah!"

Lacking a belt buckle, the man's trousers had fallen, revealing his flaccid member and a general lack of dexterity. The man tripped on his trousers, tumbled over, and landed on his back, his legs raised to the heavens.

The approaching pirate roared with laughter, spraying water from his mouth as he did so. He raised his saber, made to swing it down, to hit the man in his most private of privates, but then the cutthroat was being spun and lifted from his feet.

"Oohhh!" Skulldeath yelled as the luchador-wearing robot finished his move. "Powerslam!"

Trusting the robots to defend the innocents, Flamagan turned to the approaching wall of pirates. There were at least twenty–probably many more–but that didn’t matter, it just meant that there were was more to burn. He flexed both hands, began sending fuel down the extended tubes, readied his [Holy Fire] for ignition, lit the—

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

Before Flamagan could further curse happenstance, the next aphid took control.