Super Crush (BxB)

Tiptoeing Around Torture

I take a deep breath. "Okay, give it to me."

Clay stands before me with an orange wig in his hands, but he doesn't fork it over.

The flashing lights of the time and temperature billboard behind us on the roof of the 1740 Building only make his apprehensive scowl more serious looking. I reach out my hand to receive my clown hair, but my request is denied.

The plan is idiotic. I'm aware.

Clay starts, "I really don't think..."

"We have any other way to help Tiptoe. You are right." We both know he was not going to say this, but I end his statement differently to put the debate to bed.

We are out of options and damn near out of time if we want to save our friend. Clay can't rescue her without sounding the alarm, so it has to be me. My ridiculous plan is to step in as a mindless maniac. Not just act like one, but the wig has an inhibitor chip in it. It is programmed for me to follow most of Sir Madness's commands within reason. Clay has implemented some fail-safes into the processor to keep me from major harm and wired an overarching mission into the coding: find Tiptoe. Other than that, I will be a zombie.

"We don't have to do this, we can just run away," Clay is half serious as he gestures to the hovercraft in stealth mode behind him.

I swipe the wig from his hands.

"We both know we can't leave Tiptoe," I tell him. "Besides, I have luck on my side."

"Noah–" Clay tries, but I pull the hairpiece down hard over my head.

It's an immediate reaction. I feel all giggly and high but can still tell what's going on. I can feel a big smile plastered on my face. It kind of hurts my cheeks.

Clay reaches for me, but I swat his hand away against my own wishes and let out a creepy laugh.

"Yeah, we aren't doing this," Clay says, reaching for the wig.

I see it happen, but can't stop myself. I give Clay a one-two punch to the chest. This sends him stumbling back, more out of surprise than pain.

I cackle again and give him a sidekick to the gut for good measure.

"The hell, Noah?" His eyes show concern.

But without remorse, I giggle and turn, scurrying to the stairwell door like a drunken orangutan.

Bounding down the stairs, I search the top few levels of the building for other crazies.

1740 has been abandoned for years, so it was easy for Sir Madness to make it his backup hideout. Unsure if he has had time to get his maniac maker up and running, I assume I will be only one of dozens of henchmen.

Somewhere around the twentieth floor, I find my hypothesis completely incorrect.

Most of the walls have been demoed giving way to a huge open space. A decrepit conference hall with over a hundred maniacs running amuck.

The drive in my programming moves me right into the mosh pit of wildlings. Running around, hooting and hollering, and being crazy like we are all hearing the same heavy metal soundtrack in our ears. In a way, it's very freeing.

A dangerous feeling.

While sparring with a fellow goon, my eyes spot a dark hallway. The only corridor in an otherwise roomless environment.

My head snaps to the side and my vision goes wonky as I realize my psycho brother-in-arms has landed a jab to my jaw. Unable to feel the pain because of the cerebral spell the wig has me under, I turn to my abuser with a laugh and send a roundhouse kick to his head.