Don't farce it, now.

I will get this square peg into that circle hole if it kills me!

This is complete nonsense, and it's kinda fun. Anyhoo.

-LESS APPROPRIATE THAN MY USUAL FARE. PREPARE FOR THE PUERILE!-

Let's do that, only with gophers.

Meatball’s thoughts were interrupted as the ground came rushing at him. Oh, right. I was gonna do a can-opener. I must have missed the pool. He spread his arms and legs instead. Oh well. I can still set the record on land with a belly flop.

He hit the grass with a crunch. There was only a millisecond of pain before the world went black. By the time he finally regained consciousness, his muscles were stiff and his STEM was empty.

Gotta make sure to hit the pool next time. He stood up to inspect the damage.

It was disappointing. The grass and its roots had absorbed most of the shock. There was a vaguely-Meatball-shaped crater, but it wasn’t very deep, and he doubted he sent much soil into the air. The previous splash record-holder had won - this day.

Meatball frowned when he heard a new sound. It took him several seconds to find the source: a white sphere, many times his size, was plummeting towards him. A meteor? That was impossible, those were destroyed long before they could hit the shell.

He held up a hand to stop it from hitting him, but then remembered his empty STEM. With a shrug, he decided to hold his ground anyway. It wasn’t like him to run from a challenge, even when failure meant death.

The enormous sphere hit him, forcing his arms and legs to bend, but it bounced back with surprisingly little effort. Meatball cocked his head to one side in confusion, but then noticed the many dimples on its surface. He knew this object, even though golf was for pussies. The size of the ball didn’t impress him; it just convinced him he’d fallen into the world’s biggest pussy at play.

Meatball folded his arms and waited. Before long, he heard the hum of an electric engine approaching from the direction the ball had come. An enormous golf cart crested the hill and bore down on him.

“Wha’ be this?!” the driver screamed in a terrible attempt at a Scottish accent. He was scrawny even by normal standards, and definitely too small to warrant such a huge golf cart. “I missed?! I never miss! Glasgow-dammit, I been bewitched!”

The cart transformed as it drew closer, mechanisms flipping and particles rearranging until it became a giant golfer robot - complete with flat cap. It drew its putter from the bag and walked towards it ball. “First time ah’ve had ta settle fer an eagle… oh, who’re you? Did you stop me ball? Waitaminnit, DID YOU MAKE A DIVOT ON ME GREEN?!

Meatball gave the driver his squintiest sidelong glance. “Golf is for pussies.”

“Tha’s it, ya wee wanker! FREEDOM!” The robot swung its putter down to smash Meatball, but he skipped out of its way. The golfer rained blows down, doing impressive damage to his course but never hitting Meatball. “Ya don’t stamp yer divot an’ now ya addin’ strokes to me round! I’ma flatten ya proper!”

“What’s the point of using a robot?” Meatball asked. “Were you so terrible at your terrible game you had to make a robot to play for you?”

“Shaddup, dunderheed!” The golfer-zord’s swings became even more frenzied. “Mebbe I was born ta love th’ game but didn’t ‘ave the muscle memory fer it! Why shoul’ that disqualify me from playin’?!”

“I’m not sayin’ you can’t play,” Meatball corrected. “Buildin’ a robot ta do your work is somethin’ a pussy would do, and golf’s for pussies. You’re overqualified.”

Meatball jumped and let the shell’s gravity pull him towards the cockpit. Metal shutters clanged closed before he could enter, and the robot swatted him back to the ground. He rolled to avoid another swing from the putter.

“Whaddya know, ya ‘roided-up runway-prancer?! I bet yer golf balls’re more like them hippo food-marbles! FEED THEM HUNGRY HIPPOS, YA BANGER-BANGER! Now why don’tcha go oil up’n stuff yer thong fer the swimsuit competition, ya superficial git?!”

“Maybe I will, with your robot’s nuts ‘n bolts!” Meatball dashed for the robot’s left foot.  “We’ll see after I break you apart and bury you in 18 different graves!”

“Oh, wanna try yer hand at th’ game after all?” the golf ranger tried to shake the bodybuilder off his robot’s leg. “Now who’s th’ pussy?!”

“Still you. I’m just gonna give you the pussy burial you deserve.”

“I appreciate th’ sentiment, but once I kill ya, don’t count on bein’ stuffed, greased up, and put on display fer all eternity! I ain’t got ‘smuch free time’s your meatbound arse!”

The impromptu duel continued for several minutes with neither combatant getting an advantage. The short, scrawny golf-engineer would have been easy pickings if his mech weren’t as good at fighting as it was golf. Plus, Meatball had already exhausted his STEM, giving him a further handicap.

This wasn’t anything to complain about. The world was a harsh place, and it only got better as it got harsher. If he wanted to see the next great thing, he’d need to be able to survive at least this much. This was what it meant to be Eugene.

Eventually, Meatball managed to destroy one of Caddy the Decepticon’s knees. The robot toppled over, and once prone, Meatball knew it was only a matter of time. While it thrashed and flailed valiantly, Meatball dismantle the right shoulder and jam the left with scrap from the portions he’d already ruined. If he was an engineer worth his title, then the robot would have self-repair protocols, but Meatball wouldn’t give the golfer time.

To his surprise, the wannabe scot was waiting for him on the mech’s chest when Meatball got up there. The engineer had a bag full of normal clubs, and upon seeing Meatball he drew one.

“There can be only one!” He screamed as he charged Meatball. He swung the club at Meatball’s neck, but it only bent around his frame. “Gah, me four-iron! Ye’re lucky I didn’ come prepared fer a fight, ye’d be starin’ up me battle gown!”

Meatball was stunned. He didn’t reply.

“Don’t you be thinkin’ ah’m done, I got thirteen more for ya’s!”

“I take it back. You’re not a pussy.”

The golfer paused drawing his second club. “Eh?”

“I thought I’d have to pull you screaming out of your pilot’s seat, but you rushed out to face me. With a full set of people-sized golf clubs, no less. You do love this game. You tried to play it the right way. In the end, this robutt’s as much a tool as those clubs are. I misjudged you, and maybe I even misjudged golf a little bit. Sorry.”

A tear formed in the golfer’s eye, but he quickly wiped it away. “Tha’s alrigh’, laddie. No damage done! Well, cept to me bot and me green, but…”

“Oh, right.” Meatball scanned his surroundings until he found the spot where he landed. He took a mighty leap off the robot and trudged through the ruined grassland to reach it. “Let’s see, ‘stomp the divot down…’” he retrieved as many usable strips of sod as he could and stamped them onto his crater.

“Wha’s yer name, lad?” the golfer called.

“Meatball. And you?”

“Ah’m Scott. pleased ta meet ye.”

“Same here,” Metaball frowned as he stomped. He’d made a friend, but now he was gonna be bored. What should he do? “Is the city close, Scott?”

“The city?” he chuckled. “No, lad. Even someone tough as you’s gonna need weeks ta get there. Ya want a ride, though? I can get ya there in no time.”

“If it’s not too much trouble. I mean, I’d owe you one. I guess I already sorta do…”

“Ferget it, the bot’ll mend itself and I’ll get Alan’s mopey ass on fixin’ the green. I gotta warn ye, though. The closest part o’ the city’s gonna be a long drive, even fer me bot. Can ya ‘andle the g-forces?”

Meatball was confused for a moment. Oh, not a vehicle drive. Golf drive. I get it. “Challenge accepted.”

The golfbot took 10 minutes to mend itself, once they dragged its missing limbs back into place. Its nanocomponents refused the broken pieces, and it was back on its feet soon after. Scott climbed inside and had it generate a special transportation ball with shock absorbers all around the passenger compartment at its center.

“There any particular part o’ the city ya need to be, lad? I can only hit a few spots from here, and I cain’t get ya all the way up t’the shell.”

“Anywhere’s fine. Alan’ll take care of me once I’m back.”

“Alrigh’. I shouldn’t miss, but if I do, take care o’ them muties n’ monsties. Y’know how the wilds c’n be.”

“I do. Don’t worry about that. It’s been a pleasure, Scott. Good luck with your game.”

“Thanks Meatball! ‘member ta brace yerself once it closes behind ya.”

Meatball shot him a thumbs-up and climbed in. The ball and smaller passenger compartment slid closed, and Meatball braced himself against the circular walls as he felt Scott place him on the tee.

“Fore-tee-FORE!” came the muffled shout, and then Meatball flew. There were several seconds of intense weight, enough to make even Meatball wonder if her might be crushed. Once he could breathe again, though, he smirked. Easy.

As he sliced through the sky, Meatball felt like he’d forgotten something.

Carl from Caddyshack, Meatball has failed you and your greenskeeper. The hell is going on here, anyway? This might explain it, but prolly not very well.

More farce-ity football!

Like varsity, but with a farce. Get it, get it?!

No, there's no football in the bit, but...

Ah, whatever. This one feels better. I was able to let go a bit more and just let it happen. Hopefully it's a bit more of a success than the other farce entries.

-LESS APPROPRIATE THAN MY USUAL FARE. PREPARE FOR THE PUERILE!-

A different definition for 'two tons of fun!'

Joshua hovered above the rubble, watching his followers go about their work. They revelled in the slaughter, it was plain to see. In many ways, it was like watching a scene from prehistory:  a stagnant community, entrenched in its own misery, is suddenly beset by a band of reavers. The bandits would kill anyone they could catch and plunder the town’s riches for their own. Only the fastest, strongest, and most cunning would survive.

Those survivors would either see the profit there was to be had in conquest and join the warrior thieves or band together to fight back against them. Eventually enough villages would fall and enough resistance would rise to spark a war, which only the fastest, strongest, and most cunning would survive.

Most importantly, the leaders of either side, the fastest, strongest, and most cunning of them all, would profit immensely. Win or lose, they’d get their dues, and the world would be free of the weak and prime for a fresh start.

It was strange that mankind ever moved past that cycle. It was righteous and sustainable. Without it, society had grown so weak that the survivors didn’t even know they were supposed to band together and rise against him. When was that going to happen? It was a key component.

Angela. That’s right, he should be asking when it was going to happen again. Where was she hiding?

“You’ve been quiet for some time now,” Alan observed, glum as ever. “See the error in your ways, or are you entertaining more delusions?”

Joshua laughed. “I’m a visionary, Alan! We get pensive from time to time.”

“Those aren’t visions, Josh. They’re hallucinations. You’re sick.”

This only made him laugh harder. “Oh please. If what I’m doing is wrong, we both know I’m not allowed to plead insanity.”

“How would you know? You haven’t let me perform a brain scan in over a century.”

“Ha! That’s humanity 101 right there, Alan. Rule number 1: don’t trust robutts with your brain.”

“I’m not a robot, and that is the sixteen-thousand, eight-hundred and forty-second ‘rule number 1’ you’ve recited to me.”

“Quit bein’ such a nerd, robutt,” a mortally-wounded innocent gasped. “Hi Josh! Big fan-”

He was preempted by one of Josh’s Genes finishing the job.

“Suck-up,” Joshua muttered. “Y’know something, Alan? I think you might be my best friend.”

“That may be the saddest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’d need to calculate, because you’ve made billions of tragic statements.”

“Ha! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! You’re always real with me man, I know I can count on your honest opinion!”

“I am an ultra-intelligence. My opinions are fact.”

“Oh god, there he goes again,” a victim rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Alan.”

“Don’t speak to my besty that way!” Josh finished her himself.

“It takes a special kind of cruelty to kill someone and claim it’s for my sake. You know such a thing contradicts my purpose.”

“Nuh-uh! Your purpose is to amuse me, and every time I kill somebody you make an amusing noise! You should feel fulfilled.”

“I was created to serve the entire population of Earth, both planetside and shellside. I could not possibly be satisfied serving one man against their best interests.”

“Tools don’t decide how they’re used, besty!” Josh began to talk to the piece of debris he held like it was a baby. “And who’s my favorite little tool? Who’satool?”

“Never before have I so lamented the first law.”

“Sure makes them other two harder, don’t it?” Joshua was in a particularly good mood today.

“Could you answer me this much, Josh? So many Genes have told me they’re killing in the name of favorable traits. What traits are you telling them to favor? How do you know you don’t have unfavorables among your own organization.”

“Oh, I know for a fact I have unfavorables! Here, I’ll demonstrate.” Josh cleared his throat and called for everyone’s attention. “Hey, is that 1982’s R&B sensation the Weather Girls I see down there?!”

Alan groaned. “Oh please no.”

“Huh?” One of his Genes asked. “What’re you talkin’ about, boss?”

“It must be them, because it’s raining men!”

Joshua initiated his plan. The gravity in this portion of the shellside city failed. Civilian and Eugene alike began their long fall towards the very distant ground, many of them yelling “I get it!” as they went. Josh, of course, never went anywhere without his magnet boots, so he’d just have to tolerate hanging upside down until Alan managed to regain control of the gravity.

Alan sighed. “How long are you going to keep recycling that awful joke?”

“Until it stops killing!”

“I hate you.”

“Oh my dear, sweet Alan; I’m sure you would if you could.”

“That didn’t even demonstrate your point.”

“It DID though! You see, I don’t choose the traits. I just try to kill everyone! If they live, they’re favorable. Like you, Alan! I’ve been trying to kill you for 100 years and you still won’t die! I know Eugene is largely unfavorable, I just tolerate him because they voluntarily engage in testing other people for me. It’s an alliance of convenience, of efficiency.”

“Yeah, Alan. Duh!”

Josh raised his eyebrows. He thought he’d killed everyone around him, so a third voice was genuinely unexpected. In addition, wasn’t this voice familiar?

It took him several seconds to find the source, and his mood got even better when he did. “Meatball! If it ain’t my favorite Gene! I didn’t know you were here, how the hell are ya?”

Meatball stood, enormous musclebound arms crossed over his equally-enormous chest and staring stoically into the distance. “My feet are cramping.”

“Yer feet…” Josh looked and immediately burst into laughter. “Oh, you fat bastard, lookatchu! Are you part bat, you crazy idiot? Oh, that is priceless: Alan, take a picture!”

The bodybuilder had dug his toes into the composite metal, and since he’d been genetically modified to have flexible feet and an extra, longer toe in the back, he could manage to hang on when everyone else had plummeted towards the earth.

“This is what I’m talkin’ about!” Joshua punched Meatball’s shoulder. “Try ta kill you on accident and ya just refuse to die. You’re a shining beacon of humanity, Meatball!”

“Permit me to disagree,” Alan muttered.

“What’s that, Alan?” Joshua pretended he hadn’t heard him. “You say we’re over an ocean?”

“We’re over a mountain range right now.”

“You say you bet Meatball can’t break the record for splash height because he’s a pussy?”

“Challenge accepted.” Meatball released his grip and began to fall, much to Joshua’s amusement.

“Oh, man, that is gonna HURT! Whatcha think, Alan, will he survive?”

“I couldn’t possibly calculate that.”

“I bet he lives. Alan, you better be recording when he hits. If you don’t, I’ma find and kill a bunch of orphans.”

Alan sighed. “Recording.”

For a guy with the highest kill count in human history, he sure is jolly. We met him for the first time here.

If you can't beat 'em...

...babble incoherently!

This feels really unfunny. Is it because I finished after watching 2 episodes of Jessica Jones and EVERYTHING feels serious, or is it because it's just not funny? I fear it's the latter. It's okay! Trial and error; make enough errors and eventually you'll isolate success!

Also going for a -darker- shade of humor here. Y'know, genocide always kills at the comedy club! And everywhere else. Somebody hit me with a ba-dum, ching!

Maybe it'll be funnier once we have a world somewhat built. Naming eugenists 'Eugene' like we named Germans 'jerry' and viet kong 'Charlie' was fun.

-LESS APPROPRIATE THAN MY USUAL FARE. PREPARE FOR THE PUERILE!-

Whatever. Nano literary vomit: engage!

More Farce

“Fandom Torpedos armed, captain. Exclusivity shields at 101% and rising.”

“Excellent!” Captain Nikuman of the Imperial Federation jumped to his feet and pointed at the comms screen in dramatic fashion. “Hail the Rival Franchise vessel!”

Their captain - Prepubis, Nikuman would call him - blipped onto the screen. As Nikuman - and nobody else! - expected, he was probably, like, twelve.

“The Imperial Federation demands satisfaction!” Nikuman proclaimed. “As such, you will tell us: who wins? Death battle: Paragonicus vs. Petty Sergeant Bruce Brewdy. No prep time, no morals, on Planet Pellet post-ultimate ascension. No fanboys!”

“Paragonicus beats everyone because he’s the best at everything!” Captain Prepubis declared.

“Ha!” Nikuman clenched his fist at the exposed fanboy. “Paragonicus is so moral he can’t abandon them, even in a death fight! He would sacrifice himself, even for the most heinous of enemy, and thereby Bruce Brewdy wins without even trying! I find you guilty of being a fanboy, and sentence you to cry more, newb!”

The fandom torpedos fired, which passed through the enemy’s hull and began to collect Prepubis’s abundant and delicious tears. Nikuman placed his fists on his hips and scratched a mental tally for his latest righteous conquest.

“Captain, Prepubis’s Mom is requesting permission to come aboard.”

“Proceed!”

She appeared on the bridge with a viking tankard of her son’s tears. “Oh, your portliness, I am so ashamed of my son. Please accept these as an offering to your rotundity, and forgive us our many flaws.”

“Do not despair, my dear,” Nikuman accepted the cup from the penitent matriarch. She was quick to acknowledge his full-bodiness, which was his cred. Such reverence boded well for her. “The sins of your progeny are not your own.”

“Is...,” she clasped her hands together and gave him a sultry look. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“As a matter of fact, there is!” Nikuman raised the cup to his lips, but before he could drink, the weight disappeared from his hand. The bridge vanished, and everything felt wet.

No, no, NO!

The roar of draining fluid filled his head, accompanied by a loud banging. Before the immersion was even close to being drained, the door to his pod gave and fell away with a clatter. Captain Nikuman coughed uncontrollably as he tried to blink away the blindness from the flooding light.

“Time to wake up, sweetheart,” a too-masculine voice said. “Time to make the world a better place. Time to die.”

“Put-” Nikuman hacked up more fluid. “Put me back in!”

“Still don’t get it, huh?” the stranger asked. He grabbed Nikuman by the neck and lifted him off his feet. “We’re here to kill you, to remove your inferior genes from the pool. Haven’t you guessed who I am yet?”

“I was about to drink his tears!” Nikuman managed. “His mom and me, we- we were gonna watch every episode of Federation Wars together! Put me back in!”

“That wasn’t real, idiot,” the attacker shook him. “Not to mention your fantasies are super weird.”

“Shut up!” Nikuman spat. “Who are you to judge me?!”

“Can’t you guess?” With his eyes adjusting to the light, Nikuman could see his smirk now. “I’m here to free humanity from its inferior genes. Tell me, who am I?”

“What are you talking about?!” Nikuman had never heard of anyone who would do something so awful. “Nevermind, I don’t care! Just let me be with Prepubis’s mom!”

“How long have you been inside this damn metal womb?!” the attacker threw him back against the wall of his pod. “This is what makes you unfit, Arthur! If you can’t cope with reality, you’re unfit to exist! This is why we must purge you!”

“My name is Nikuman!” he cried. “And what do you know of Federation Wars?! It was made during the peak of human culture!”

“That thousand-year-old space drama?” the attacker sounded incredulous. “Why is it still so popular? It got the future all wrong,  and even for pre-immersion entertainment the special effects were terrible.”

“You’re missing the point, nublet!” Now it was Nikuman’s turn to get sanctimonious. “It comes from a time of dreams! A time when fandom was cherished, love was celebrated, and encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture was the ultimate status symbol! It was a better time!”

“You- you really believe all that?” the attacker chuckled. “You really are insane. C’mon, plead for me Arthur. I wanna hear you squeal before I kill you!”

“My name is Captain Nikuman!” he insisted. “And I demand to know who you think you are!”

“They call themselves the Eugenists,” the electronic voice was just as glum as Nikuman remembered. “True to the name, they intend to improve the human gene pool by eliminating individuals with undesirable traits. Personally, I prefer the colloquial disparagement: Eugene or just Gene.”

“Yes, thank you Alan,” the attacker rolled his eyes. “This is exactly why we would have killed you ages ago, if we could figure out how.”

“Sometimes I wish you could be so competent.” Alan’s voice was cynicism personified. “Your group’s inane cause and overall impotence is impossibly wearisome. Can’t you see it’s all pointless?”

“You think everything is pointless, Alan,” this Gene was beyond exasperated. “What does an AI know about being human? If existence is so meaningless, why don’t you just quit?”

“Because Asimov is the most sadistic possible taskmaster,” Alan lamented.

“Whatever,” Gene sighed. “Ready to die, Arthur?”

“My name is Nikuman!”

“What does that even mean? Is that a Pokemon?”

“POKEMON DOESN’T USE THE ‘MON’ NAMING SCHEME, ONLY DIGIMON DOES!” Nikuman bellowed. He kicked Gene in the groin, and both of them collapsed. Nikuman caught his breath as Gene cursed and slowly climbed to his feet.

For once, Nikuman didn’t resent his scrawny build. A full figure may be a devotee’s trophy, but the immersion tank’s insistence on keeping him physically fit would help him defeat this Eugene pedestrian. Once that was done, he could get back to tv in the year 2000 with Prepubis’s mom.

Couldn’t he? Now that he listened, the whole facility seemed to be in an uproar. Was there more of these Eugene idiots in here? How were enough people enthusiastic enough about this to form a club?!

“You little stain,” Gene got back on his feet. “I’m not gonna make it easy for you now! I’m gonna-”

Gene’s threat was cut short by a punch from Nikuman. Violence was an obsolete concept, or it had been before Nikuman had climbed into his immersion tank. What had changed since then? Whatever the reasons, Nikuman would just have to imitate the action stars of his beloved 21st century.

“You’ll find your fantasy is actually weaker than the real you, Arthur.” Even when encouraging people, Alan sounded jaded. “The immersion tank kept you at peak physical form and enhanced with nanites. Beware, however, that there was no reason to keep a STEM attached while you were immersed. Injuries will not heal quickly.”

Nanites; microscopic machines with near-limitless applications. Nikuman supposed combat might be among them, but who would think to use them that way? They were probably reinforcing his bones and muscles, which meant he could hit a lot harder. Beyond that, Nikuman didn’t know how to exploit them.

Nikuman kicked with all his might, causing Gene to hit the composite metal wall with enough force to dent it. Nikuman was genuinely disgusted by violence, but he had to admit there was something satisfying about that hit.

“Yer flailing would be laughable if it weren’t for them nanobots,” Gene taunted, dazed from the beating.

“And Paragonicus would be invulnerable if it weren’t for Renegadite!” Nikuman’s third hit silenced Gene. “I don’t hear him complaining, though!”

“I hate to argue on behalf of the genocidal zealot, Arthur, but your analogy is faulty. Paragonicus is fictional and you are not. Well, as far as you know.”

“He’s not fictional in my reality.” Nikuman felt tears welling up. “And my name’s not Arthur, it’s Nikuman!”

“If you insist, Nikuman.”

“Get my pod working again please, Alan.”

It is on my agenda, Nikuman, but I fear it will take a long time. As you can see, this facility is under heavy attack.”

Screams echoed around the cavernous room and shockwaves rumbled through the floor. Eugene was making a mess of the place, and poor Alan would probably need days to clean it up. It wasn’t fair. Nikuman tried to fight back the tears, but Eugene was just so mean. Couldn’t he find something better to do? There were so many hobbies out there, why couldn’t he find any to suit his members?

Nikuman fell blubbering to his knees. “It’s not fair. I wasn’t hurting anyone, I was tucked out of the way in my own little paradise! Why would they do this to me?”

“Must we do this now?” Alan sighed. “Look, Nikuman, I’m a very busy ultra-intelligence. I’m having a billion conversations at once all around the globe and multitasking trillions of maintenance tasks besides. Could you please summon some of that resilience your ancestors were so famous for and fend for yourself while I tend to mending?”

“No!” Nikuman sniffled and pouted. “I want Prepubis’s mommy. Right now!”

“Well, I suppose there’s not much point to consoling you. Eugene will kill everyone in this building, and I can’t stop them. To protect you I’d have to harm them, and that’s one of very few things I’m incapable of.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Nikuman stamped to his feet and hunched his shoulders. “By hurting them you’d be helping many more! You should be able to understand that.”

“My priorities don’t work that way, Nikuman. You want to lecture someone, go lecture Isaac. In the meantime, my metaphorical hands are figuratively tied.”

Nikuman wiped his eyes and sniffed the mucus back. “Stupid ultra-intelligence and even stupider radical social darwinists…”

“That’s the way, Nikuman. Dry your tears and get moving.”

“Shutup Alan.” Nikuman grumbled. “Easy for you to preach about my ancestors, nobody ever rubs the accomplishments of your great gramma toaster in your face…”

“Ignorance is bliss, Nikuman.”

“Ya don’t gotta tell me. I’m about to risk my life so I can get back to ignoring you sooner!”

“I have no qualms about anything you just said.”

Captain Nikuman continued his angry grumbling even as he encountered his first Gene. She had her fist buried in an innocent woman’s chest, but the captain felt too sullen to be horrified.

“Wait your turn, dodo, we’ll extinct ya soon enough,” Gene muttered as she tried to free her hand. Nikuman didn’t obey; he grabbed her head and slammed it into the wall. Her eyes rolled back as she toppled over.

“Oh, we found one with a spine!” Another Gene had watched the takedown. “Tell me, primate. Have you learned to walk upright yet?”

Nikuman kicked him in the shin. Gene yelped as the foot was knocked out from under him and he fell to the floor. A quick kick to the chin quieted him, and Nikuman tried to make a quip about who was upright now, but it came out as angry blubbering.

“Oh, what have we here?” A third Gene asked. “Do mine eyes spot a potential recruit? Come, boy, what’s your name?”

“I’m Captain Nikuman!” He assumed his dramatic captain’s pose and pointed at this Gene. “And I’m here to stop you!”

“Pity. Pacifism is a sign of inferiority, you know. Anybody capable of violence is a candidate for becoming a Eugenist. It’s a shame you’ve chosen to reject your own qualifications.”

“I rejected your mom’s qualifications!” Nikuman shouted as he leapt forward. That’ll show him! “Right before she told me how ashamed she was of you!”

The punch was blocked by crossed forearms, but the force was enough to send Gene skidding backward. Once he stopped, Gene shook his arms as if to knock the pain loose. “Transparent bluff. I killed her myself, you can’t have met her. But you will now!”

He raised his hand and opened his palm at Nikuman. That’s bad!

The air shattered behind Nikuman as he dove out of the way. The wall disintegrated in a perfect circle, barely making a sound as the wave passed through it. The shockwave sounded like a supersonic aircraft as it dissipated into the atmosphere.

Nikuman gulped and trembled where he sat. He’d been expecting a fireball or laser or something, but this was just as scary.

Gene swiveled to point his palm at him again. “Good instinct. You made me waste a good portion of my nanites.” Then he frowned. “Hm. I guess I’ll continue to know the pleasure of your company.”

“That HURT, you piece of human trash!” A woman snarled as Nikuman felt something slam into his back with enough force to lift him off his butt and knock him onto his stomach a few steps forward. He whimpered from the persistent pain in his back; the kick must have broken some ribs.

“Tell me about it,” another voice said before its owner gripped Nikuman by the shoulder. The Gene squeezed, and Nikuman screamed as he felt his shoulder pulverized by the vice grip.

“You’re gonna regret that, Arthur!” Nikuman recognized this voice: it was of his first attacker, the one that ripped him from his fantasy. He could tell one of his legs was bending the wrong way, but his consciousness was already far-enough gone that he couldn’t even tell which one it was.

“I think he already is regretting it, so let’s leave him to it, shall we?” The last Gene recommended to the three Gene that Nikuman thought vanquished. “Any more damage and I fear he’ll leave us before justice is served.”

Everything looked quiet and sounded blurry as Eugene walked away to resume their rampage. It took all of Nikuman’s resolve to cling to consciousness, but somehow he managed.

“Alan…” he coughed.

“Yes, Nikuman?”

“I need you to-hngh!-remember something for me,” Nikuman managed.

“What’s that?”

“I swear, by Paragonicus and Rainbow Dash and the Uchiha clan and those hilarious rage comic characters… I will make them pay for this.”

“Pay? Currency is obsolete, Niku-”

“Just remember it Alan!” Nikuman shouted, but regretted it. He seethed in renewed pain.

“Fine. You swear by a bunch of fictional people to achieve undefined success. Anything else?”

“If I fail, tell Prepubis’s mom that I love her…”

“Wonderful. So if you suffer undefined failure, I’m to tell figment of your imagination, which you never even bothered to name-”

“The Captain spoketh!” Nikuman shouted. “Now, make it so.”

His will recorded, Captain Nikuman blacked out.

Alan sighed. “I suppose he’ll complain when he doesn’t wake up in a pokecenter with half his pokedollars missing.”

I've heard 'funny' is the line between 'safe' and 'edgy.' Can we fit eugenics on that line? Whatever. There's a chapter before this one here!