Project ROWDY 30A (Patreon)

It was amazing how terrible things could smell. Rust and decay and a dozen other chemical stenches wafted up, Brick Mojo picking up something that probably used to be formaldehyde among it all. 

Unfortunately for him, the it all had been baking under the East Coast May sun into a cocktail that made Brick's nose want to shut down entirely. Great. Another abandoned factory. He rolled his bright red eyes with a huff. Every psycho on the East Coast loves industrial ruins and old warehouses for their lairs. Granted, he and the boys had been among those psychos, but they at least had the excuse that they weren’t even double digits yet.

"HOLLLYYYYYYY!!!"

The roar punched through concrete like tissue, Brick’s jaw clenching at the sound of it as superhuman lungs made the air tremble. Subtle. The person making that noise had already been spotted by satellites three states over.

"HOLLLLLYYYYY! WH-WHERE MY… HOLLLLYYYYY?"

Brick dropped altitude, his brothers in loose formation behind him as he already began scanning the complex through telescopic vision. Scattered chemical barrels littered the ground, most of them cracked and leaking God-knew-what into the soil. Structural supports were bent at angles that suggested something very large and very angry had been redecorating. No heat signatures except for one massive blob of bio-energy tearing through what used to be the main assembly floor.

No civilians present. Abandoned for decades. Minimal environmental concern. The assessment ran clean, clinical. Professional.

"So we can cut loose?" Butch's voice carried that edge it always got when he smelled a real fight coming. "No holding back?"

Brick nodded, still cataloging potential hazards. The target appeared physically resilient, based on the casual way it was treating load-bearing pillars like toothpicks. "Within reason. He appears physically resilient."

"Jesus fuck, would you quit with the serious professional bullshit?" Butch's growl made Brick's teeth itch. "I remember you shooting snot balls at plans, you know?"

Here we go. Brick kept his expression flat, but heat crawled up his neck anyway. "I'm trying to do my job here."

"And you're being a giant pussy about it, all serious for like the last year. Live a little, red rocket!"

The nickname hit like fingernails on a chalkboard. Brick's hands wanted to ball into fists, but that would just prove Butch's point. "Let's table this for later."

"I'm just saying…." Butch's voice carried that particular tone that meant he was building up to something stupid. “Like, you give Boom-Boom shit for all the saluting the flag he’s been up to and following around Super-Patriot and RoboDork but look at you!” Brick didn't fail to notice how Butch skipped the way he followed around Agent Brit like a lost puppy, the invincible old man not really caring either way, but still. 

"We get it, big bro-bro,” Butch rolled his eyes as hard as he could, letting out a loud forced sigh, expelling enough air he actually pushed himself backward as he floated in the air,  “you wanna look good in front of Cecil, but stop being so, I don't know... gay about it, maybe?"

Brick narrowed his fire-truck red eyes at Butch, making a mental note to sign him up for more PR training. Maybe throw in some cultural sensitivity seminars too.

"Um, guys?" Boomer's voice cracked right in the middle, puberty hitting at exactly the wrong moment. "He's noticed us."

The thing that had been demolishing factory equipment turned, and Brick got his first clear look at their target. Doc Cancer. 

The GDA files hadn't done the grotesqueness of the guy justice. Asymmetrical muscle mass bulged under skin that looked like raw hamburger, all of it threaded through with black veins that pulsed with sickly blue light. If that wasn’t bad enough, the guy’s head was more a tumor given sentience than anything else, stretched and bulbous and locked in a permanent snarl that showed too many teeth.

"YOU THREE! PRETTY BOYS!"

The ground shook as Doc Cancer charged, and Brick had to admit the speed was... concerning. Something that big shouldn't move that fast. Basic physics suggested it was impossible, but then again, physics had been taking a beating ever since they'd landed in this universe.

"What's his problem?" Butch sounded more confused than worried, which was probably a bad sign.

"HOLLY CALLED YOU CUTE! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Brick blinked. 

A half-second later, he blinked again, realizing the words didn't make any more sense even after he thought them over. "Who's Holly?"

Doc Cancer's fist pulverized a concrete pillar like it was made of chalk, sending chunks of debris spinning through the air at lethal velocities. "MY WIFE! MINE! SHE ONLY LOOKS AT ME!"

"We don't even know your wife!" Boomer yelped, spinning through the air to avoid a piece of machinery the size of a small car.

Butch caught another chunk of metal bare-handed, his brother pushed back a full meter from the impact force. "You have a wife?" Five tons of broken factory equipment clattered to the ground as Butch tossed it aside.

"HOLLY SAW YOU ON TV! SAID YOU WERE ADORABLE!"

The Red Rowdyruff dodged a blow that left a crater where he'd been hovering, the displaced air nearly knocking him off balance. This is actually happening. Someone was trying to murder them because his wife thought they were cute on television. "This is literally the stupidest reason anyone has ever attacked us."

And that's saying something, considering our track record.

Doc Cancer's next swing came faster than the last, and Butch didn't quite clear the arc. The impact sent him through a brick wall with a sound like a building falling over, and for half a second, Brick felt something cold drop into his stomach.

Butch emerged from the rubble, rubbing his jaw with an expression that was equal parts surprise and delight. "Hey! That actually hurt!"

Of course he's happy about it. Brick ran tactical assessments while part of his brain tried to process his brother's complete lack of self-preservation instincts. Doc Cancer was strong. Not Omni-Man strong, but close enough to their own level that a lucky hit could do real damage. "He's... he's almost as strong as us. Exercise... I mean..." Brick frowned as Butch shot him a dirty look. "Don't be a fucking idiot, what do you want from me?"

Butch's laugh was sharp and violent, and Brick felt his irritation spike before he caught himself. But anger seemed to be the language Butch understood because he dropped into formation, shoulders set and ready for violence.

They circled at super speed, all three of them rushing the big mutated idiot with confusion tactics. Boomer’s after-images came in super-handy there, the Blue Rowdyruff striking poses that Cancer Man kept punching at, missing every time. 

It was a simple enough strategy but useful as always. Keep the target guessing, wear down his reaction time, wait for an opening. Basic pack hunting strategy, refined through months of GDA training and seven years of casual mayhem that came in handy.It usually worked, up to a point.

And that point was now.

Doc Cancer’s right eye narrowed, suddenly more focused past the raw anger, and Brick’s own eyes widened. “Boomer!”

“Ahhhh!” A backhand from Doc hit loud as thunder, the impact enough to send the blonde skidding across fifty yards of concrete. Butch was already moving, driving a knee into the villain's ribs with enough force to crack steel. "Take notes, Cancer-boy! This is how you throw a real punch!"

Show-off. Even still, Brick had to admit the form was good. Butch might fight like a wrecking ball with anger management issues, but his technique had improved since they'd started formal training.

"This guy’s real strong!!" Boomer's voice was pitched high with adrenaline as electricity danced between his fingers, forming a crackling cage around Doc Cancer's position.

The electrical containment lasted maybe three seconds before raw muscle tore through it like tissue paper. "STAY AWAY FROM MY HOLLY!"

Doc Cancer's charge was aimed directly at Boomer, and Brick felt tactical analysis shift into overdrive. Trajectory calculated. Impact force estimated. Probability of serious injury to his brother climbing toward unacceptable levels.

"Simultaneous impact required. On my mark..."

They moved into position with the kind of coordination that came from shared genetics and too many fights to count. Butch high, Boomer low, Brick center mass. The sound barriers broke in unison as they accelerated, three red streaks converging on a single point.

"Now!"

The impact was everything Brick had calculated and more. Doc Cancer's face disappeared under synchronized hypersonic kicks, the shockwave radiating outward like a bomb going off. What was left of the factory structure collapsed in slow motion, steel beams twisting and concrete dust billowing up in a perfect sphere of destruction.

When the debris settled, Doc Cancer was embedded in the center of a crater that hadn't been there thirty seconds ago, finally unconscious and looking significantly less threatening without the homicidal rage animating his features.

"He was actually pretty tough." Boomer rubbed at a sore spot on his arm, electricity still crackling weakly around his fingers.

"Yeah, first bloody nose since we got here." Butch sounded impressed despite himself, which probably meant he was already looking forward to the next time they faced something that could actually hurt them.

Brick hovered above the crater, studying Doc Cancer's prone form with clinical interest. "He regenerates... faster than we do, though less controlled. That's..."

"...sick." Butch finished, because of course he did.

The GDA VTOLs arrived with their usual efficiency, black shapes cutting through the afternoon sky like mechanical vultures; each of them with specialized restraints, designed for superhuman prisoners. Donald stepped down from the first one, the cyborg supervising the pickup with the kind of tired professionalism that suggested this was just another Tuesday for him.

"Director Stedman wants full debrief. This one's in our database but he wants your opinions."

Brick rolled his eyes, arms folded as he shot back at the deputy director with, "Tell him we'll report after school tomorrow. We have finals."

Donald's double-take was almost comical, but he nodded anyway. "He'll be pleased to hear that, actually."

Pleased that we're still kids with homework. Sometimes Brick wondered if Cecil saw them as weapons or wayward teenagers. Maybe both. Maybe that was the point.

As the containment vehicle lifted off, they launched skyward, leaving the ruins of the chemical plant behind. The city sprawled below them, all glass and steel and afternoon shadows that made everything look smaller than it was.

"You think this Holly lady is actually real?" Boomer asked with eyes wide. “Real pretty like he said too?”

"Doubt it. Dude was nuts." Butch shrugged, hands interlocked behind his head. “Anyway, who cares?”

Brick cared.

Not about the wife, at least, but about the villain in general.

So much so, he found himself thinking about it as they flew home. Doc Cancer had been a real menace, at least on the same level as Octoboss and way stronger than the Nazi. The mutant’s power wasn't a joke, even if the man was nuttier than squirrel shit. Worth monitoring.