O:Ne M:Ore Time

The fight between Tackle and Coach raged on, each blow exchanged with intense force, Coach’s movements were precise as she attacked with powerful strikes. But Tackle—though struggling—fought back, her resolve never wavering, even as the odds stacked against her.

Coach’s body glowed while she briefly charged each strike. Tackle staggered back from the impact, the force of Coach’s attacks rattling her. For a moment, it seemed as though the fight might be over. But Coach, seemingly satisfied with the damage done, jumped back, her eyes gleaming as she prepared for another charge.

Tackle’s breath came in heavy pants, her body trembling from the strain. But inside her mind, something shifted.

I’m tired of keeping composed,

She thought bitterly, her fists clenching.

This keeping composed, that…

She remembered Johe’s words from earlier, Prog’s advice to calm down, and her fight with Epongi. She could hear her own heartbeat, the pulse of her frustration and rage, thrumming louder than her thoughts.

No more calm. No more holding back, she thought fiercely. Some of you computers really deserve to get the shit beat out of you. And I don’t want to feel bad about it.

Her anger surged, consuming her, and she realized—I’m not nervous anymore. This makes me happy. If I want to be an angry human, I’ll go ahead and be an angry human.

Her fingers dug into the pocket of her suit, pulling out a small ball. Her grip tightened around it, her mind made up.

Screw the consequences, even if it’s death. I’d rather fight for myself than be protected by you all.

The ball felt like nothing more than a simple object in her hand, but in that moment, it became her declaration of defiance.

With a tight squeeze, the ball activated, and suddenly, an orange-red wireframe—like a protective net—enveloped her body. The wires hummed with power as they wrapped around her in an intricate pattern, forming a glowing armor around her. Tackle’s stance changed. She no longer felt vulnerable. She no longer felt outmatched.

Coach narrowed her eyes. “What is that?” she asked.

“This is the new firewall technology,” Tackle replied, She stood taller now. “You’re gonna see what it’s like to fight like a human.”

“No data will pass through this armor. No tricks. Just raw power.”

Coach raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well then—”

“Come here,” Tackle interjected. “I’ll show you what it’s like to get the bricks kicked out of you.”

Meanwhile, Epongi continued to run, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and panic. He dashed around, his heart racing, his breath coming in frantic bursts.

I’m thinking about this all wrong,

He realized, his thoughts clearing with each step.

These people… from District 1. They’re all fighting to save each other. To protect.

His chest tightened as he thought of Gork’s lifeless body, the memory of Vitron’s cold actions burned into his mind.

These computers just want control. None of them truly care for one another.

He halted suddenly, the weight of his realization hitting him like a burst.

He paused, standing in the middle of the chaos, his demeanor changing as a new understanding washed over him. He nodded to himself, his mind resolute.

I get it now. They fight for something real.

The clash between Johe and Ballerina echoed through the room as the loud bass vibrations from Ballerina’s body reverberated, shaking the ground beneath them. Johe swung his weapon in an attempt to land a hit, but the constant vibrations pushed him back each time. He gritted his teeth, his body straining against the sonic assault.

Every time Johe tried to slash, Ballerina simply swatted him away with ease, his laughter echoing. “You’re so annoyingly weak!” Ballerina taunted. “Even with that weapon of yours, Bass is too strong of a program for it!”

Johe’s thoughts flickered between concentration and frustration as he continued to fight. The comm-link in his ear crackled, announcing the deaths of more District 1 officers. Each name felt like a sharp jab, further draining his resolve.

“Damn,” Johe muttered. He gripped his weapon tighter, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t even sure if he could land a blow, but he refused to give up. He had to keep fighting.

As the vibrations increased, Johe felt himself lose control of his body. The world around him seemed to stretch, and for a brief moment, he was no longer in his body. He felt like he was experiencing something larger than life, something that transcended his physical form. His vision swam as his brain struggled to keep up with the intensity of Ballerina’s power.

He slashed again, his movements erratic, but the vibrations pushed him away once more. Ballerina’s mocking voice filled his ears. “You’re just loud and annoying. I wanted to give you a chance to fight me, but you’re not doing too well.”

Johe struggled to remain focused, but something inside him faltered.

What is this feeling? he thought, his mind spinning. Why am I thinking of this?

Suddenly, Ballerina’s large hand grabbed Johe by the stomach, lifting him off the ground with ease. Before Johe could react, he was slammed back into the floor with a bone-shattering force. The wind was knocked out of him, and he gasped for air, his body aching from the impact.

“I’m so tired of you,” Ballerina said, annoyed. ““I’ll move on to someone less annoying.”

Johe’s mind swirled, struggling to keep up with the pain.

This must be that fight-or-flight thing that people have, right? Johe thought, his thoughts fuzzy. Dizziness… unable to concentrate… Yeah. That must be it. But why now? Am I scared too? Like Tackle… His thoughts faltered as memories of Tackle flashed through his mind.

Johe struggled beneath Ballerina’s foot, trying to push himself up, but the vibrations increased in intensity. Ballerina’s bare foot crushed down on him, pinning him in place. “Stay put now,” Ballerina snarled. “It’ll be even more annoying with you wriggling around.”

Johe’s smile was small, almost bittersweet, despite the situation. He thought of Tackle. Tackle was funny, he mused, his pain momentarily forgotten. I really liked all of them, actually.

The memories flooded in. He thought back to his time as a car salesman, the coworkers who couldn’t stand him. He hadn’t been liked, not really. The lack of appreciation, the meager bonuses. It all seemed so trivial now. But here, with these people—Tackle, Shinku, Bontly—they made him feel something he’d never felt before: friendship. Real connection. People he could call friends.

Ballerina towered over him, both hands widened, vibrating harder and harder, creating an overwhelming, pulsating sound. “Are you ready, fellow?” Ballerina sneered. “To explode? Just give it a moment, don’t be annoying.”

Despite the pain coursing through his body, Johe’s fingers moved instinctively, searching through his suit.

Each wave of sound pushed him deeper into a haze of dizziness, his senses fading with each passing second. I didn’t even want friends going into this job. Or did I? The thought echoed in his mind like a faint whisper. Was it all for a paycheck? Was it to help people? I didn’t care much for the politics or helping people, yet I still went with Shinku to fight Binar…

He tried to focus, but his vision swam, and the bass vibrations grew louder, more intense. A sharp pain shot through his chest, but he barely noticed it. His thoughts drifted away, like a cloud passing through the storm. Hm…

Suddenly, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Aiye was rushing towards him, his jester opponent having driven him into the lobby. His face a mix of concern and determination. he shouted his name, but the words felt like they were coming from far away. Shinku’s attention shifted as well, his eyes catching the scene.

Did I even really get to tell them how much I appreciated them? Johe thought, his voice barely a whisper in his own mind. Huh? I guess not. That’s a real shame, isn’t it? Such a waste…

Ballerina’s mocking voice reached his ears, cutting through the fog in his head. “Just a few more seconds,” he said. “The bass is rising.”

Johe’s thoughts wandered again. You guys? What should we do tomorrow? Eat popsicles… Yeah. Nothing crazy. Just a long day of sleeping and some popsicles. His body trembled beneath the pressure of Ballerina’s vibrations. It felt as though his very skin was being shredded from the inside out, but somehow, he couldn’t care. He was so tired. Tired of the fight, tired of the noise, and yet… That’d be nice.

His thoughts turned to Shinku, still locked in battle with Star. Oh, Shinku… if you could over-explain to me one more time…

Tackle pierced his thoughts, and Johe couldn’t help but smile weakly. She was fighting Coach hand-to-hand, a force to be reckoned with as she knocked the woman back. Oh, Tackle… if you could just slap me one more time…

Bontly, too, was still in the thick of it, battling Kabuta amidst the chaos of broken cars. Oh, Bontly… if I could just hear your squeaky voice one more time…

The vibrations intensified, rattling Johe’s body, his muscles aching and protesting with every movement. His thoughts continued to drift. Can I just light a cigarette one more time? Please? His mind clung to the smallest, most mundane desires, as though that simple act could somehow calm the storm within him.

The vibrations grew more violent, and Johe’s body began to bulge as the pressure inside him built. The world around him blurred further, the noise deafening. He couldn’t fight it anymore. The explosion was inevitable.

Ballerina’s voice was a distant cackle. “Sayonara,” he mocked, his tone laced with finality.

Johe’s body trembled violently, a low rumble deep in his chest. His thoughts fragmented, the pain and pressure overwhelming him.

Then, with a force that seemed to shatter the very air, Johe’s body exploded. The pressure of Ballerina’s vibrations finally tore him apart, oil splattering in all directions. The world seemed to stop, the chaos of the battle pausing as his existence was wiped away in a moment of pure destruction.