One-Shots [Boboiboy]

The Story Within The Tale

***

"What are you doing in my room?" Rensa screeched, as she'd dropped her precious porcelain cup of coffee, the contents spilling to the floor, drowning the shards of the cup in a messy caffeinated heaven. She had no time to mourn for her drink, for there were unwanted visitors by the door.

Or rather, what used to be a door. The entire portion of the wall had been reduced to rubble, dust pouring into the apartment, paintings of random cursed pictures shattered and torn.

Gail poked her head out of the room, and swiftly executed that this would not be within her range of work. She attempted ro recede within the comfort of her room, but a hand was wrapped around her wrist, pulling her out into the scene itself.

"Oh." Rensa's eyes narrows, recognition settling into her expression. "It's you."

Cyclone flinched, for he had not expected villains to be in the form of three young girls, who appeared to be younger than him. "Uh—"

The room appeared to be colorful; walls painted with neon yellow, the furniture consisting of art supplies, closets of manga, and generally resembling a room full of crazed artists.

Jena blinked, having expecting another elemental. "Is it that time already?"

"Jesus, last time was bad enough already," Gail grumbled. "If they walk away with their limbs intact, it'll be a miracle."

Cyclone blinked, surprised at their calmness; though he couldn't say the same for the first girl, who was trying her utmost best to contain her inside voice, but her expression screamed colorful words that he never thought he would have imagined.

"Wrong house, genius," Gail scoffed. She raised her hand, and poked a thumb to her right. "You should be under Kaz's department. That is, if Solar and Thunder haven't decimated it yet. She's down the hall."

"Um," Cyclone stammered, already beginning to back out the door. "Thanks? And sorry for the door? And your coffee. My apologies. I have to go. Goodbye. Hope we never see each other again. Bye."

He bolted out the door.

***

"Oh my god." Dawn dropped the book she was holding, colorful pieces of sticky notes fluttering from its pages, which was full of doodles and notes. She cupped her face, mouth shaping an "o" in awe. "It's really HIM!"

Solar froze, his glowing finger fizzing out like a dying light bulb. He'd barged into a residence, where he was told that it was inhabited with villains that were capable of manipulating the fabric of reality, and they were specifically targeting them in general, for they were bored with their lives and had sought for adventure and heartbreak within their fingertips.

Now, he was facing an office-like room, with three tables filled with diverse equipment for writing. The room was dark, lighted by warm, golden table lamps, for there were no windows and there were no regular ceiling lights. Metal cabinets were placed by the door, coded by colours and names.

Excluding the first girl, the other two turned from their seats, and their gaze were hooked on him, their pen and pencil hanging in the air above their papers. They had no element of surprise, only acknowledgement and understanding for his intrudement.

"Is there anything we could help you with?" Manyee asked thoughtfully. "Perhaps some character analysis? Thoughts on how to improve your battle style?"

Solar spun to her, confused. "What?" he cried. "Who are you people?"

Jolyn tapped the tip of her pen on her hand eagerly, her eyes flashing in curiosity for knowledge. "We're in diverse categories, but I think we could help you with your efficiency in battle. I help you work out your quirks and flaws in battle; Dawn specialises in studying the source of your ability and strengthens it; and Manyee designs your battle styles and whatever gear you need! Though, you'll have to send the blueprints to Glace, because we don't have any experience in building machines…"