My World My Justice Ch.31 (Patreon)

Colin sat on a bench in his civilian clothes—beige pants and a navy blue shirt, deliberately unremarkable—watching children run through the newly constructed playground. They scrambled up climbers, raced down slides, swung from bars with reckless abandon and pure joy. He could tell that the equipment was well designed with good quality materials. Proper safety surfacing, age-appropriate challenge levels, structures that encouraged physical development while remaining engaging.

The sight was unusual for Brockton Bay. Especially after a gang war.

He remembered the aftermath of the Teeth and Marquis conflict—the city-wide violence that had consumed entire neighborhoods. Martial law had lasted for weeks. Curfews, military presence on every corner, civilians afraid to leave their homes. The recovery had taken months, the psychological scars even longer.

Yet here they were, less than a week after another event of similar magnitude, and people had already returned to their lives. Better than returned—they were thriving. Happier than he'd seen them in years. Parents laughing, children playing with that unique childlike innocence. Small businesses reopening, neighborhoods organizing community events.

And he was part of that result. His work, his planning, his execution of the mission had directly contributed to this outcome.

The recognition had been substantial. Citizens thanking him personally on the street, genuine gratitude in their voices. A formal commendation from Director Costa-Brown herself. Even his merchandise sales had spiked significantly—the action figures that had gathered dust on store shelves were suddenly in demand, retailers requesting additional shipments. And there were talks on improving the designs.

He should feel satisfied. Vindicated. This was exactly the recognition he'd always wanted, proof that his methods and dedication produced tangible results.

So why did it feel... hollow?

Colin sighed, the conflicted emotions churning in ways he couldn't quite analyze or categorize. It didn't make logical sense. He'd achieved his objectives, received acknowledgment for his contributions, demonstrably improved the city's security situation. 

By every measurable metric, this was a success.

Yet something felt different. Off. Like he'd been chasing the wrong variable in a complex equation.

Director Piggot certainly hadn't let his blatant insubordination slide, regardless of the positive outcome. He'd gone practically AWOL during the most critical moment of PRT ENE's operations, pursued an independent mission he'd disclosed to virtually nobody, violated chain of command, ignored protocols, and operated without proper authorization.

Dragon hadn't reported him when he'd left, and later when he'd explained everything to her, she'd understood. She always understood him, somehow seeing past his poor communication to grasp what he actually meant. But understanding didn't erase the violation of regulations.

Piggot's punishment had been harsh and entirely justified: significant pay reduction, temporary confiscation of his personal equipment for review, a formal reprimand on his permanent record, and mandatory leave pending an internal investigation. Before the ABB's collapse and the city's improved stability, removing the Protectorate leader would have been unthinkable. But with the current peaceful environment and expanded resources, the Protectorate could operate without him temporarily. Leadership had been transferred to Dauntless—the young cape he'd once resented for his potential overshadowing his own accomplishments.

And surprisingly... he was fine with it.

He deserved the punishment. He'd broken rules, violated protocols, ignored the chain of command. Accountability mattered. Following regulations existed for legitimate reasons, not just bureaucratic inconvenience. His actions had been necessary and ultimately successful, but that didn't exempt him from consequences.

Taking responsibility for one's actions was part of being a hero. Perhaps more important than the recognition he'd always craved.

"Hey, Colin."

The quiet voice snapped his attention to the left. Shoto stood there in civilian clothing—a baggy black long-sleeve shirt and shorts, his long black hair in its usual unkempt state. The man looked relaxed; he was tired, but a satisfied sort of tired.

"Greetings," Colin replied, his tone automatically formal even in a civilian context. He gestured vaguely at the space on the bench. "You're welcome to sit if you wish."

His colleague took a seat beside him, crossing one leg to rest his ankle on his knee and settling back against the bench. His posture was deceptively relaxed, though his eyes remained alert.

 "The weather has been... favorable recently. Clear skies, moderate temperatures. Good conditions for outdoor activities." Colin tried to initiate conversation.

Aizawa responded with a noncommittal grunt.

"The playground construction was completed ahead of schedule, I heard. Efficient project management. The contractors deserve recognition for their adherence to the timeline." He tried again, searching for another topic. 

"Mmm." Another brief acknowledgment, his colleague gaze never leaving the playing children.

The attempt at small talk died quickly. Forcing it felt more exhausting than productive, an inefficient use of energy that neither seemed inclined to continue.

So they simply sat there, watching the children play. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Just being there. Existing without demanding anything from either of them.

"Heard about your punishment. There were talks about stripping you of your leadership position entirely." He paused, stifling a yawn. "Some people wanted you transferred to another branch. Losing command of Protectorate ENE completely." His co-worker spoke without shifting his relaxed posture, his tone carrying that perpetually drowsy quality that somehow never affected his actual alertness. 

Colin grunted. He'd expected consequences—deserved them, even—but complete removal from his position would represent a failure of everything he'd built here.

"With Jin integrated into PRT," Shoto continued, his eyes half-lidded as he watched a child successfully navigate the climbing structure, "they argued that technically they don't need you. They have him clone you regularly to handle your tasks. Makes you... replaceable, on paper."

The word landed like a physical blow. Replaceable.

"But," Eraserhead added, his tone shifting with the barest hint of something that might have been approval, "nobody actually agreed with the motion. Not a single vote in favor of removal."

Colin's head turned sharply toward him, genuine surprise breaking through his usually controlled expression. "Nobody?" That seemed implausible. Director Piggot had been furious about his insubordination. Other members of the command structure had voiced serious concerns about his independent action setting dangerous precedents.

Especially about how it had exposed him as a hypocrite.

"Not even Miss Militia," His co-worker confirmed, reading his skepticism easily. "She argued that effective leadership sometimes requires field judgment that supersedes standard protocols. Said your decisions saved more lives than following proper procedure would have." He yawned again, wider this time. "She was pretty adamant about it, actually. Rare to see her that passionate."

Miss Militia had defended him. Despite his blatant violation of command structure, despite his failure to coordinate with his actual team, despite everything that should have made her the most justified in calling for his removal.

"Glenn Chambers was something else entirely though," His fellow hero continued.. "Your PR Director screaming at Piggot about throwing away their best hero over bureaucratic pride. Thought the man was going to have an aneurysm right there in the conference room."

He chuckled quietly, a rare sound that made him seem more… human. "His face turned red. Pretty sure everyone in the building heard him through the closed doors."

Colin processed this information slowly. Glenn Chambers—the Director of Public Image, the man who typically spoke in carefully measured tones about brand management and public perception—had screamed at Director Piggot in his defense. Had risked his own professional standing to argue in his defense.

The mental image was both amusing and deeply unsettling. People rarely advocated that strongly for him. He was effective, valuable from an operational standpoint, but personal loyalty? That had never been his strength, as depressing as that sounded.

"I see," Colin said finally, because he genuinely didn't know what else to say. The knowledge that his colleagues had unanimously defended him created an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. "Thank you for informing me of this."

The tired man shrugged, the gesture lazy and unconcerned. "Tomorrow the reinforcements arrive. Means I'll finally get some proper sleep after requesting some time off." His expression shifted to something that almost approximated satisfaction. "Should be good to catch up with Fat Gum too. Haven't seen him in years."

Colin nodded, automatically filing away the information about incoming personnel. The expanded roster would significantly improve their operational efficiency, reduce individual workload, and allow for more comprehensive threat response protocols. Especially that the PRT has recovered most of the city.

Silence settled between them again, but it felt different now. Comfortable. Undemanding. Neither felt compelled to fill the space with meaningless words.

Then Colin remembered something Dragon had told him during one of their many conversations—advice about socializing, building connections outside purely professional contexts.

He'd thought it was inefficient. An unnecessary expenditure of time and energy that could be better spent on equipment development or training. Now... maybe there was measurable value in it after all.

"Aizawa-san?" Colin said carefully, the words feeling foreign and awkward on his tongue, "would you be interested in... getting a drink? Together. As a social activity."

That was the right question, wasn't it? Dragon had mentioned something about inviting colleagues for beverages as a bonding activity. Or had she said coffee? He couldn't remember the exact phrasing now, much to his surprise.

The perpetually tired man's eyebrows rose slightly, surprise crossing his usually tired features.

"Sure," Shoto replied simply. "Know a quiet place a few blocks from here. No hero groupies trying to get autographs, no loud music, no flashy atmosphere. Just decent beer and better coffee."

Colin found himself unexpectedly pleased by the acceptance. Perhaps Dragon's advice had merit after all.

----------------------------------------------------

-Daniel, True Might-

I'm walking through the streets toward Brockton Bay General Hospital where Amy is currently having her volunteer shift, while carefully carrying gifts in both hands.

On one hand, I'm holding the adorable fluffy teddy bear I won from that mystery loot box a while back. Good thing I kept it around in my apartment instead of donating it, and I've finally found the perfect use for it instead of letting it gather dust on a shelf. On the other hand, I'm carrying a large cake in a professional bakery box—chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, because I asked around at the bakery and apparently that's a universally safe bet that most people enjoy regardless of preferences.

Also, I paid for it in full, because I couldn’t give the image that I was taking advantage of people with my fame or try some bullshit exposure as payment.

Just as I promised myself, I'm going to properly reward Amy for her help during the gang war. Obviously not by giving her money directly because that would be insulting and give the wrong message, and Carol Dallon would definitely get involved and make a whole drama about it, among other issues I would rather avoid. So instead, a couple of thoughtful gifts for her to actually enjoy seemed like the best approach for this overworked girl.

Of course, plenty of people are noticing me as I walk through the streets at a deliberately normal pace, because I actually want the public to see what I'm doing. This is as much about showing appreciation publicly as it is about the gifts themselves. Plus, I'd completely ruin the cake with all the bunny-hopping across buildings.

"True Might! Over here!"

"Oh my god, can we get a picture?!"

"Is that cake for someone special? Who's the lucky person?"

I stop plenty of times for quick photos and brief friendly exchanges, always careful not to drop either the teddy bear or the ‘Thank you’ cake. Some enthusiastic thanks here and there, excited greetings from fans, a few young kids asking if they can touch the soft teddy bear, parents requesting autographs on whatever paper they have available. The usual stuff I’m accustomed to.

After about twenty minutes of this leisurely walk with frequent stops, I finally arrive at the main entrance doors of Brockton Bay General Hospital.

I take a deep breath to prepare myself and push through the heavy doors with my shoulder since both hands are occupied.

"JUSTICE COMING THROUGH THE DOOR!"

That definitely gets everybody's immediate attention in the lobby. Heads snap up from magazines and phones, conversations stop mid-sentence. A couple of nurses at the nearby reception station actually do a visible double-take, their mouths dropping open.

Some people point at me with obvious surprise and excitement, others whisper urgently to their companions, and a few kids in the waiting area with their parents start bouncing excitedly in their seats and tugging on their parents' sleeves.

Well, that's a good entrance so after staying those dramatic seconds at the entrance I move to the main reception desk, the teddy bear tucked securely under one arm and the cake box balanced carefully in my other hand.

The receptionist; a middle-aged woman with rectangular glasses and graying hair pulled back in a professional bun, looks up at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting me to walk into her workplace.

"Greetings, noble guardian of health and wellness!" I declare, leaning down slightly. "I seek a brief but important audience with the great ally of justice Panacea, maiden of healing! Is she currently available?"

Huh, that came out rather formal.

The receptionist blinks a couple of times, clearly trying to process this situation. "Oh, um... Panacea? Well, she's currently busy with a patient in the oncology ward on the third floor at the moment, but she should be finishing up her current case soon, so if you could just wait in the—"

"THEN I SHALL GLADLY AND PATIENTLY WAIT FOR MY FELLOW ALLY IN THE RIGHTEOUS CAUSE OF JUSTICE!" I interrupt with a broad, friendly smile, already turning toward the waiting area. "Patience is a fundamental virtue that all heroes must cultivate! I shall await her noble presence!"

I make my way to the public waiting lobby and carefully take a seat, or rather, I lower myself as gently as possible onto the chairs given my considerable size and weight. The chair creaks ominously under my bulk, protesting audibly, but holds together since I'm basically sitting across two chairs because they designed these waiting room seats ridiculously close together.

My arrival and loud entrance obviously attracts a lot of attention from everyone on the first floor. People are now openly staring without any pretense of subtlety, phones are out and actively recording, and I can hear excited whispers spreading through the room like wildfire.

"Is that actually True Might?"

"Oh my god, he's just casually sitting there in the waiting room!"

"Who's that adorable teddy bear for?"

"That cake box looks huge! Must be expensive!"

"Do you think he's visiting a loved one?"

I sit there patiently and calmly, the teddy bear positioned comfortably on my lap and the cake resting carefully beside me on an empty chair to avoid crushing it. I wave at a few young kids who are staring with wide eyes and open mouths, which causes them to break into giggles and wave back enthusiastically.

"JUSTICE!" one little boy shouts, flexing his tiny arms, imitating one of my side-chest poses.

After about fifteen minutes the perpetually exhausted Amy finally appears from the elevator.

Naturally she's in her full cape costume: the white robe with red medical crosses, her hood pulled up partially obscuring her face, the long red scarf, and her face wearing that permanent frown. She's probably not actually angry at anything specific, but that just seems to be her default facial setting; perpetually exhausted and annoyed with the entire world and everyone in it.

The moment I spot her, I immediately stand up with both gifts securely in my hands, which causes another significant wave of murmurs.

"PANACEA! Noble healer of the innocent and savior of the suffering!" I boom with the same enthusiasm, walking toward her. "I have come to express my deepest gratitude for your invaluable aid in our righteous crusade against the tyrannical forces of evil!"

Amy stops dead in her tracks, her tired eyes widening visibly behind her hood as she processes what's happening.

"What—" she starts, but I'm already closing the distance.

"Your tireless efforts during the great battle for justice ensured that countless could return safely to their loving families!" I declare, and I can see her face turning red even in the shadow of her hood. "Without your incredible healing touch and unwavering dedication to saving lives, many would have suffered permanent harm or worse! You are a true hero in every sense of the word, even if you do not fight on the front lines! Your justice burns ever brighter!"

I extend the soft teddy bear toward her with a theatrical flourish. "Please accept this humble token of my appreciation! A noble companion to remind you that all who fight for justice forever treasured your selfless service!"

Amy just stares at the teddy bear, her face now flushed red with embarrassment. "I... what... this is… unnecessary..."

"AND FURTHERMORE!" I continue before she can protest further, presenting the cake as well with my other hand. "A DELICIOUS CAKE TO SWEETEN YOUR WELL-DESERVED MOMENTS OF REST! FOR EVEN THE GREATEST HEALERS MUST TAKE PROPER TIME TO ENJOY LIFE!"

In other words; take a damn break, girl. Burnout is a terrible thing, and I know that from personal experience.

By now, pretty much everyone in the entire floor is watching this public display with rapt attention. Phones are recording from multiple angles, people are smiling warmly at the scene, and I can hear several "awww" sounds from the crowd, particularly from some of the mothers present.

Amy looks overwhelmed and mortified by this very public display of gratitude. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times with no sound coming out, clearly unaccustomed to receiving this kind of positive attention and appreciation. Her hands fidget nervously with her scarf.

"This is... you really didn't have to do all this..." 

"OF COURSE I DID!" I insist. "Heroes must actively support their comrades! Your contribution was absolutely invaluable to our success! Justice is not only found in the glorious shape of combat but also in the compassionate hands save the innocent!"

Amy seems to shrink, looking uncomfortable but not entirely displeased. Then she suddenly seems to fully realize just how many people are watching and actively recording this moment. Her eyes dart around the crowded waiting room nervously, and I can see panic creeping into her expression.

She takes a quick step closer to me and leans in, speaking in a worried whisper that only I can hear. "People are definitely going to get the completely wrong idea about this whole thing. They're going to think... I don't know, that you're asking me out on a date or something stupid. This looks really weird from the outside! A big teddy bear and cake? Seriously?!"

I think about her concern for a moment. She's probably right that some people might misinterpret a male hero publicly giving traditionally romantic gifts to a female hero, especially with the combination. That sends certain signals. And we are technically around the same age, but I look like a fully grown adult while she's still visibly a teenager.

But you know what?. Let them gossip and make up whatever stories and theories they want in their heads. It's just harmless idle chatter and entertainment for people to have some fun with instead of focusing on negative things to rant about or get angry over. 

The internet's going to internet, regardless.

"Your concerns are duly noted, friend panacea!" I respond, still at my usual booming volume without dropping to a whisper. "But true justice knows the pure truth of your heroism, which stands proudly on its own merit! Let people speak—we who walk the path of righteousness know the power and value of our heroic deeds!"

Amy looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and disappear forever from embarrassment, but she does slowly and reluctantly take both the teddy bear and then the cake box from me with both hands, holding them awkwardly in her arms like she's not sure what to do with them.

"Thanks," she mutters quietly,. "This is... actually really nice of you. Nobody usually..." She trails off, not finishing the thought. "Oh god, Vicky is definitely going to hear about this..."

Well, she is going to get endlessly teased by her sister because that's just sisters’ things, so a good thing.

"You are most welcome friend Panacea!" I declare enthusiastically, giving her an encouraging double thumbs up. "May your days be filled with joy, peace, and the satisfaction of justice well served! But serve justice with a full belly!"

And with that last declaration, I turn and head toward the exit, waving cheerfully to the crowd of onlookers who suddenly burst into spontaneous applause.

That honestly catches me off guard—I have no idea why they're clapping for what was just a simple thank you gesture. I may have gone slightly overboard with the theatrics, even so, it is excessive and awkward.

Mission accomplished.

Amy got her well-deserved recognition, the public saw a hero appreciating another hero's contributions, and maybe she'll actually take a break and eat some cake instead of working herself into the bone.

After that small event, I exit through the hospital main entrance and quickly make a leap toward the top of the nearest highest building. Once I land on the roof, I immediately start my usual routine of bunny-hopping from building to building across the city, covering ground at rapid speed.

Now I'm looking for Taylor. She mentioned earlier through text that she'd be with the Wards today, so I figured I'd head over to check on how she's doing and see if she needs anything or wants to grab food after.

Despite Director Piggot's well-known and barely concealed hatred of independent heroes operating freely in her city, even more thanks to me, she still can't actually do shit when direct orders come down from above. And since Taylor is practically my official sidekick and protégé, the PRT brass has mandated that they let her train and even work alongside the Wards whether the Director likes it. Plus, Taylor seems to have become friends with Maple, which helps smooth things over by a lot.

After several minutes of building-hopping and scanning the streets below, I reach a large public park on the edge of the Boardwalk commercial area. I spot Taylor immediately since she has that distinctive bright costume, along with Maple in her armor, Vista in her green and white uniform, and Gallant—though they're not walking a standard patrol route or doing typical public relations exercises. Instead, they appear to be engaged in... well, sparring more accurately, with Gallant standing off to the side overseeing the match.

Or more specifically, Taylor is trying desperately to land hits on Maple, who easily and effortlessly blocks every single punch and kick without even using her tower shield. She's just using her bare hands. 

Ah, so they're sparring together. Probably here in the park because Taylor doesn’t have access to the PRT training facilities…yet. That's actually great for Taylor's development and confidence. She needs more hand-to-hand experience.

I briefly consider dropping to join them and provide some tips, but then I reconsider that line of thought. Better to leave her to continue doing her thing independently and keep making friends with the Wards on her own terms. Excluding Sophia, who's now on juvie, the Wards are good kids. Besides, Taylor and I can train together at another time, and maybe go on a joint patrol afterward. No need to helicopter her.

So I leap off in a different direction and drop down onto the streets several blocks away to start another simple patrol of my own.

Then I suddenly remember something important. I haven't actually looked at the rewards for the mission success in taking down Lung! 

With everything that happened immediately afterward and then thinking about the meeting with Bane and Nightline, and the long talk with Futaba, this completely slipped my mind.

I summon my company smartphone and pull up the notifications.

'Classic Dragon Hunting: COMPLETE!'

Lung, believed by many to be most dangerous cape in Brockton bay, capable of fighting entire teams of cape on his own, the legendary villain who held off an Endbringer on his own.

And yet most dimensional travelers beat him soon after arriving here, and it’s time for you to continue the tradition.

You and your retinue must beat Lung, simple as that.

Conditions:

Lung will be immune to all capture methods and Lures until the end of the mission.

Do not use blackmail, threats or mind control to make him surrender.

Only your Retinue members may help.

Bounty tracker is disabled until the end of the mission.

Base reward [ Credits ] : 25

Bonus rewards:

Objective 1: Let Lung reach the same massive size he reached against Leviathan in canon timeline, then defeat him decisively. 

Reward [Companions]: One free T7 or lower Dragon waifu of your choice OR 50 credits.

Objective 2: You or a Retinue member must defeat Lung entirely on your own, without any external assistance from other heroes. 

Reward [Credits]: 25

Objective 3: Do not use stealth tactics to ambush or attack him before he fully transforms to maximum size. 

Reward [Perks]: Covert Talent OR 5 credits.

Objective 4: The entire fight must be filmed and posted online for public viewing and documentation. 

Reward [Perks]: Performance Talent OR 5 credits.

There can only be ONE dragon... for now

It would be too easy and boring if you became a dragon and beat the fake at his full size. And revealing your hand too early? Where's the entertainment in that? Make it interesting.

Main Objective: Defeat Leviathan-sized Lung WITHOUT using any of your dragon transformation

Rewards:

-10 Lootboxes!

Wait, seriously? More loot boxes?

Either way, all objectives were successfully completed, so I got the full maximum rewards package. But I need to choose which specific rewards I want for three of the four objectives since they offer options.

Naturally, I immediately select the 5 credits over Covert Talent for Objective 3—stealth really isn't my style or strength anyway given my size and personality, and more credits are always useful for future purchases.

For Objective 4, I choose Performance Talent over the additional credits without any hesitation whatsoever.

What? I've fully committed to the hammy hero persona at this point, so this perk will only help me express myself better. Maybe it'll finally stop me from internally dying of cringe too, I still feel that pain, I just push it down. Might as well lean heavily into my established strengths and make the best of my situation.

It's Objective 1 that really gets me thinking hard, because the choice is harder than I initially expected—a massive 50 credits OR a potentially powerful dragon waifu companion. That's a tough decision.

At first I wanted the credits for paying off the loan in one go and then use the extra for power ups but then again, any T7 dragon companion.

Yet the main problem is, I honestly don't really know that many dragon girls from various franchises off the top of my head, and more importantly, I have absolutely no idea if they would actually be useful or compatible with the grimdark world of Worm. Some characters are incredibly overpowered in their home universes but might be virtually useless here, or their personalities and moral codes might cause me serious problems down the line.

Like trying to ask for help for a dragon who hates humanity, I could potentially unleash another endbringer if not careful.

It would definitely be much better and smarter to talk with Futaba about this decision since she has way more direct experience with the company and must have vastly more knowledge about different fandoms since she used to be a big anime otaku. 

However, before I can think about it much more deeply or pull up the catalogue to browse options, I suddenly feel a weight drop onto my broad shoulders from directly above. I instinctively try to look up and immediately feel a pair of strong muscular thighs press firmly around my neck.

"What's up, Doc?"

I find those unmistakable long white rabbit ears and intense red eyes looking down at me from above as a gloved hand pats the top of my head.

Huh.

"Well met, friend Mirko! What a joyous surprise to encounter you here!".

"Well, you know how it is," she says with that characteristic cocky, toothy grin, squeezing her thighs tighter around my neck for playful emphasis. "I was doing some roof-hopping nearby, keeping in shape and all that, when I spotted you down here walking around all alone looking lost in thought. Figured I'd drop by to say hi and see what you're up to. Can't have my favorite big guy wandering around, right?"

I resumed walking at a normal pace, this isn’t like a problem carrying somebody on my shoulders. This isn't even the first time I’ve done this, after all. I also can't help but mentally laugh—having the powerful thighs of the objectively sexiest rabbit girl wrapped around my neck like this is literally the biggest fantasy for countless thirsty people on the internet.

"I was conducting a righteous patrol of the city streets! For even with the major forces of evil being defeated and scattered, we both know that the dark clutches of villainy always lurk in shadows waiting to strike! Justice never rests, never sleeps!" I thump my chest enthusiastically with one fist. "But your own fierce flames of justice are always welcome to help stoke the everlasting fire of righteousness!"

"HA! Flattery will definitely get you everywhere with me, big guy," she teases, ruffling my hair roughly with both hands. "But seriously, where the hell have you been lately, huh? You took down Lung all by your lonesome ass, had that whole meeting with the hardass Armsmaster where you went all 'justice this' and 'justice that' with everyone watching, and then after all that publicity you just kinda disappeared off the radar for a while. What gives? Got tired?"

I just let out a short laugh at that.

As if!

She leans down much closer, her face suddenly appearing in my field of vision completely upside-down. "What's so funny, big guy? Come on, don't leave me hanging here! Share the joke!"

"The very notion that the flames of justice could ever tire or dim!" I respond, though internally I'm laughing because I'm literally physically incapable of getting tired.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," she snorts dismissively, then suddenly smacks the top of my head with her palm to get my attention. "But you know what? I've been thinking about something that's been bugging me lately."

I continue walking at my steady pace, curious where this is heading.

"You've been holding back this entire fucking time, haven't you?" Another light smack to emphasize her point. "That first time we fought in that landfill? You were pulling your punches hard, even if you still almost broke my ribs and arms. The boxing match? You were holding back waaaaaaay too much—I only got some gum bleeding as a result when you could've done way worse."

Another smack, this one with a bit more force behind it. Totally harmless tho. "How do I know for sure? Well, the entire goddamn nation just watched you literally blow up Lung's arm clean off at his full dragon size with a single punch. Or how you practically dragged his massive ass across the city like he was a dog. And I'm sitting here realizing you could've turned me into chunky salsa without even trying hard."

Yep, cannot deny that.

"You big asshole!" Another smack. "Do you have any idea how annoying it is to find out the guy you've been trying to measure yourself against, has been going easy on you the whole damn time?"

Ah, so that's what's really bothering her. Pride.

"My noble friend—" I start to explain.

"Don't you dare 'Noble Friend Mirko' me right now!" She cuts me off sharply, though I can still hear the underlying amusement beneath her irritation. "I get why you did it, obviously. I'm not stupid. A full-power punch from you would've left nothing but a red smear on the pavement. But still! You could've at least made it less obvious you were sandbagging!"

Well, to be fair, I was also holding back a lot against everyone. Huh, now that I think about it, this is probably another serious blow to the morale of those neo-Nazi bastards; knowing I wasn't even trying hard against their heavy hitters.

She delivers another playful but firm smack to my head. "Next time we spar, I want you to actually try harder. Not full power—I'm not fucking suicidal here—but at least enough to make it a real challenge, you know? Give me something to actually work with. I'm tougher than I look, this body can take a serious beating and keep going."

Not a baseless boast, her canon version lost all limbs and still fought hard.

But I nod, accepting her demand. She kinda has a point there.

"Good!" She seems satisfied with my response, settling back onto my shoulders more comfortably and relaxing her grip slightly. "Now that we've established you're a well-meaning jerk who's been patronizing me with kid gloves this whole time..."

She trails off thoughtfully, then her tone shifts. "So what's the actual plan now? Merchants are gone, ABB is also totally dismantled. The city's pretty much at relative peace for the first time in years, so there isn't really much action to do other than routine patrols and checking up on neighborhoods here and there most of the time."

"INDEED, the major organized forces of evil have fallen!" I declare, raising one finger dramatically. "But vigilance remains essential! Dark forces still lurk in shadows, attempting to extend their diabolical clutches toward our fair city! Evil never truly rests, and new ambitious threats always emerge from the darkness!"

"Yeah, no shit," Mirko agrees with a heavy sigh, her legs swinging slightly and rhythmically as I continue walking. "Kinda annoying how the Teeth keep making aggressive moves, trying to push into former Merchant territory. No matter how many times I kick their psycho asses back, they still keep popping back up like cockroaches. They're almost as persistent and resilient as the Merchants were. And that isn’t counting when the asshole of Coil dealt with the initial forces."

She pauses, then her voice takes on a notably angry edge. "And those fucking Cartel assholes are actively trying to muscle in on the now-open drug trade too, seeing opportunity. Seriously, fuck that cocaine-addicted bastard leading them. I should have stomped his spine way harder when I had the chance and put him in a wheelchair permanently."

Snowflame?

"Ah, it seems the villainous forces of the Vice Squad still foolishly underestimate the unstoppable power of healthy life choices!" I declare enthusiastically. "But fear not! The righteous youth of our city knows the eternal truth: Say NO to vices, say YES to justice!"

"Vice Squad? Are you seriously calling them..." But she suddenly bursts into laughter, her legs swinging wildly. "Who am I kidding, of course you are! God, I can't believe you just made me remember that dumb PRT event. 'Oooooh Dope Dan and Nick O'Teen, Ohhhhhh!'"

Well, you were in the first row, woman. 

Still, those were good character names from what I remember, not gonna lie. Although they definitely could have invested in better costume designs for those mascots.

Yet almost immediately after her laughter fades, she lets out a long, heavy sigh. "I really wish all that shit could be dealt with as easily as just punching a couple bad guys in the face until they stop..."

Her mood suddenly goes down.

What should I do to raise her spirits back up?

Think, think, think...

I could make another dramatic declaration, but that might not address whatever's actually bothering her. Maybe she needs a distraction?

"BEHOLD, FRIEND MIRKO!" I suddenly boom, an idea forming. "The path of justice is never simple! If it were, there would be no need for heroes with unwavering determination like us!"

I adjust my walking pace slightly, making it a bit bouncier. "But that is precisely why we must never surrender to despair! Every villain defeated, every innocent protected, every small victory—these are the building blocks of a better tomorrow!"

I can feel her shift slightly on my shoulders, possibly paying more attention now.

"The forces of vice and villainy may seem endless!" I continue, trying to show my passionate conviction. "But we are not alone in this righteous struggle! Together with allies like you, Friend Mirko, we shall prevail! Implanting the embers of justices is what we do so together create the true great flames of justice!"

I pause for effect, "And besides! When the burden grows heavy, even the mightiest heroes deserve moments of respite! Perhaps after this patrol, we could share a meal? Justice is always more enjoyable when celebrated with worthy companions!"

There's a moment of silence from above, then I feel her leg squeeze around my neck again… Not complaining.

Nice.

"You're such a sap, you know that?" she says, but I can hear the smile returning to her voice. "But... yeah. Yeah, food sounds good actually. I could definitely grab a sandwich!"

A grin curls on my lips before I suddenly break into a full sprint.

"JUSTICE WAITS FOR NO ONE!"

"Whoa—HEY!" Mirko yelps, nearly falling backward off my shoulders as I accelerate rapidly from a standstill. She scrambles desperately for a better grip, her hands grabbing frantically at my head and hair. "A little warning next time, you jerk!"

She says that, but she's also laughing freely as she finally gets a solid grip, her fingers digging firmly into my hair and her thighs clamping down.

We run ‘together’ for several blocks, not at my maximum speed but still fast enough. I'm careful to avoid pedestrians and not cause any traffic problems. A few people try to quickly take photos but this time I don't stop for interactions.

After a few minutes of steady running, I spot my target destination and start gradually slowing down—a food truck that's just finishing its setup for the day. The side service panel is still being rolled up and secured, and the grill is probably just starting to heat up since I don't see any smoke coming out from the small chimney yet.

I come to a controlled stop directly in front of it, my feet skidding slightly on the pavement but not damaging anything.

The worker—a younger guy, maybe mid-twenties with a scraggly beard and a somewhat stained apron—looks up from carefully arranging bottles of condiments and nearly drops the mustard bottle.

"What the—"

"GREETINGS, NOBLE PURVEYOR OF DELICIOUS SUSTENANCE!" I greet loudly, stepping confidently up to the service window. "Two glorious sandwiches overflowing with meaty justice, if you please!"

Goddammit brain! 

"Uhhhhhh..." The worker just stares at me with his mouth hanging open slightly.

The dark-skinned woman snorts and pats the top of my head. "What my friend here means is: give us two Philly cheesesteaks, extra large size. Heavy on the meat and cheese, don't skimp on either."

"Oh! Uh, yeah, okay, sure..." The worker blinks a few times. "That'll be... uh... fifteen dollars total? For both sandwiches?"

I reach toward my pocket, pretending to grab a physical wallet since I'm not actually carrying one, and discreetly use my inventory to summon a crisp twenty-dollar bill which I quickly hand it over. "Keep the righteous change as a tip for your noble culinary services!"

"Who the hell is screaming out there—" A second worker suddenly pops his head out from deeper inside the truck, wearing a grease-stained apron and a white cooking hat. And his eyes widen the second they land on us. "Holy SHIT! That's True Might?! And Mirko?!"

I merely wave one hand in a friendly greeting. "WELL MET, FELLOW CITIZENS!"

"Marcus, get your ass back in here right now!" The second worker—apparently the main cook—grabs his still-stunned coworker by the arm and practically yanks him back inside the truck urgently. "Move, move, move! We can't keep THEM waiting!"

We can hear increasingly frantic scrambling, followed shortly by the wonderful sizzling sound of fresh meat hitting a hot, well-seasoned grill.

We wait patiently outside for a couple of minutes; me leaning casually against the side of the truck with her still on my shoulders. 

"Smells pretty damn good," Mirko comments approvingly, and I notice her long ears twitching from the reflection of the truck's shiny metallic surface.

"INDEED! The magnificent aroma of justice being carefully prepared is most appetizing to the heroic palate!"

She smacks the top of my head again, but gently this time. "Everything's justice with you, isn't it?"

"NATURALLY! The power of justice permeates all aspects of righteous living!"

Come on brain…

After about five minutes Marcus—the first worker from before—finally emerges carefully carrying two massive sandwiches wrapped in foil. They're packed completely full of thinly sliced steak, melted cheese dripping down the sides, grilled onions and peppers.

A true meaty sandwich.

"Here you go!" He announces with obvious pride in his work, extending them toward us. "Two extra-large Philly cheesesteaks, our specialty! Made fresh, just how you ordered!"

I take one in each hand and extend one upward toward my companion, who takes it with both hands.

"Oh damn, now that's what I'm talking about." 

"Wait, wait, hold up!" The cook suddenly leans out of the service window with his phone already in hand. "Can we get a quick picture with you guys? Please? This would be amazing for business!"

I give him a thumbs up. 

Mirko shrugs. "Meh, why not? We're already here anyway, might as well make their day."

So Marcus and the cook both lean out of the narrow service window, and Marcus extends his arm fully to get us all properly in frame. So we naturally smile for the camera.

Click

"Awesome! Thank you so much, seriously!" Marcus says excitedly, already checking the photo. "This is going straight on our social media! You guys are the best!"

"Think nothing of it, noble chefs! your valuable culinary contributions to the palate of justice and the city's wellbeing are appreciated!"

After that, we leave the food truck behind as we walk away down the street.

I take a good bite of my sandwich, and yes, it is absolutely delicious. The meat is perfectly seasoned and tender; the cheese is melted; the onions add great flavor, and the bread has that ideal texture—crispy outside, soft inside.

Good stuff. I love meat in general, and this is premium stuff.

Mirko also takes a large, aggressive bite of her own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully and critically for a long moment before nodding with clear approval. "Okay, I'll admit it—that's a damn good cheesesteak. These guys actually know what they're doing."

She takes another bite, clearly enjoying herself, humming in satisfaction.

"Justice cannot fight on an empty stomach!" I declare between bites.

"Couldn't agree more with that, big guy," Mirko says, her legs swinging contentedly from my shoulders once more. "Though I gotta say, this is probably the weirdest lunch date I've ever had in my life."

Wait. Date?

"Ooooh a DATE?!" A new, cheerful voice suddenly appears out of nowhere. "That's grate! Like, really gouda! The big cheese finally making his move on the hot bunny!"

"What the—?!"

I hear Mirko immediately choke on her bite of sandwich and let out an undignified squeak of surprise, nearly falling off my shoulders again. Her thighs clench desperately around my neck as she scrambles for balance, her sandwich almost dropping. 

I try to look up and feel a new weight appear on my left shoulder. I turn my head to the side and see Mouse Protector cheerfully waving one hand directly in my face. I can tell she's grinning widely beneath her distinctive mouse-eared helmet.

She must have teleported directly onto my shoulder using her blink power. She was probably patrolling nearby, spotted us, and decided to drop in and say hello in the most dramatic and intrusive way possible.

"WELL MET, MOUSE PROTECTOR!" I boom enthusiastically, managing an awkward salute with my occupied hand. "What a delightful surprise! Your presence brings additional joy to this righteous meal!"

"Hey there, big boy!" Mouse Protector chirps, patting the side of my head… affectionately? "Saw you two lovebirds walking around looking all cozy and happy together, and I figured I'd drop by to say hi and get the inside scoop!"

Then Mouse Protector immediately pivots toward the rabbit heroine.

"So, Mirko! Finally decided to hop on the True Might ham, huh?" Mouse Protector's voice takes on a playful edge. "And here I thought you were all 'I work alone, teams are for weaklings!' and 'I don't need anybody!' What happened to that whole tough, independent lone wolf—well, lone rabbit—act you had going? Did someone finally melt that gouda shell of yours? "

"Shut it!" Mirko snaps defensively, her voice rising. "There's nothing wrong with grabbing food! It's called networking! Besides, this is just a joint patrol with a meal break! I do those from time to time with other people!"

"Uh huh, sure, sure, totally believe you," Mouse Protector interrupts with the same tone. "That's definitely why you're sitting all comfortable on his shoulders, eating sandwiches together, playing with his hair and literally calling it a date! Totally just normal, casual cape business! No cheesy business here!"

She leans even closer to Mirko. "I mean, come on! The way your legs are wrapped around his neck? People gonna talk. Own it!"

"I said shut UP already!" 

I feel a sudden violent movement before Mirko's leg shoots out in a vicious kick aimed directly at the head.

"Whoa there, Thumper! No need to get so violent over a little teasing!" Mouse Protector laughs mockingly. "I'm just saying what literally everyone who sees you two is already thinking! You're adorable together! Just admit you—"

But before she can finish that sentence, she has to blink away to avoid another kick.

She reappears on my other shoulder and immediately wraps one arm around my neck in an overly familiar way. "Besides, can you really blame any girl for wanting to get a bite from this BIG cheese? Look at him! Strong, noble, heroic, and that body!" She pats my chest appreciatively with her free hand. “You can absolutely grate stuff here.”

"Get off him." Mirko snarls, throwing a punch.

"Aww, getting territorial already? That's so cute!" Mouse Protector coos, then deliberately nuzzles against my shoulder exaggeratedly. Wait, where is that hand reaching?

"What's wrong? Worried about a little competition for the big boy's attention? Don't worry, I'm sure there's enough justice to go around!"

And that does it.

"GET OFF HIM RIGHT NOW!" Mirko roars, and suddenly her powerful leg swings with serious force this time.

And the kick connects with a loud—THWACK—and I feel the cheeky heroine's weight completely vanish from my shoulder.

“Owie!”

My reflexes kick in and my hand shoots out and catches Mouse Protector mid-air by her midsection before she can fall to the pavement or blink away.

"Nice catch, big boy!" She exclaims cheerfully from my grip, not seeming even slightly bothered by being kicked to the head. She playfully pats my flexed biceps with obvious appreciation. "Your reflexes are sharp as aged cheddar! Quick as a mouse, you might say! Now let's show these civilians the Justice Special!"

Oh, she wants me to throw her? Well, if she's asking for it...

I smoothly toss her up into the air, which she happily accepts as she rolls mid-air to get into the proper position. She lands perfectly on my extended palm, then begins helping me wind up my throwing arm for maximum distance, aiming toward the roof of a tall building about a block away. 

"JUSTICE SPECIAL!" I shout the name of our combo move.

"CHEDDAR BOMBARDMENT!" Mouse Protector adds.

And I launch Mouse Protector through the air with considerable force.

"CHEESY JUSTICE AWAAAAIIIITS!" Her voice echoes dramatically and gradually fades as she flies in a perfect arc toward the building I aimed at, her cape billowing behind her. She lands on the rooftop without any apparent issues, rolling smoothly into a three-point stance.

The caped heroine then turns around, waves both hands in an exaggerated goodbye gesture toward us, blows an air kiss specifically at me that I can see even from this distance, and runs off toward somewhere else to bother somebody else.

There's a moment of silence as we both watch her distinctive silhouette vanish across the rooftops.

"That nosy, annoying little—ugh!" Mirko growls with obvious frustration, her grip on my hair tightening noticeably. "I swear, she does that shit on purpose!"

She takes an aggressive bite of her sandwich, chewing angrily. 

I’m more surprised that her sandwich survived and didn’t drop it all over my body.

"FEAR NOT, FRIEND MIRKO!" I try to defuse the situation. "Our ally of justice merely possesses an enthusiastic and playful spirit!"

"Playful my ass," Mirko mutters darkly. 

But then she sighs heavily, her body relaxing.

"Whatever. It's fine. I don't care what people think, anyway. "Let them talk. Not like it matters."

There's another moment of silence as we both continue eating.

"So..." The dark-skinned woman starts, her voice noticeably quieter and less aggressive now. "You, uh... you wanna do this again sometime? The food thing, I mean. Maybe without the interruptions?"

“Of course!”Uh, Mouse Protector was an unexpected wingwoman here.

Thank you!

-----------------------------

AN: Long chapter hence a little late, all for the sake for the jelly bnuuy

And seggs