2.7

Kenta was comfortable.

He was sitting in his Laz-E-Boy, reading a good book. And then he heard a poof and there was the sharp smell of smoke in his living room. He threw his book to the side and stood up in a practiced fighting stance.

Before him stood the foolish woman known as the Techno Queen and two of her subordinates. Tattletale and Jailbird, he thought.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled threateningly.

"Hello and good morning to you too, Lung." The one called Tattletale snarked, crossing his arms.

"You just teleported straight into my living room. You don't get to act like you've got better manners than me."

She opened her mouth to argue, closed it, opened it again, and frowned.

"Mighty dragon, renowned beast, undefeated champion!" The Queen (he preferred to think of her as so) flourished with her cape as she yelled dramatic and admittedly flattering titles at him. He decided to listen to what she had to say before utterly destroying her.

"I, THE TECHNO QUEEN-"krakthoom"-would like to do business with you!"

He tilted his head inquiringly.

"Stop forcing people into your gang, and stop selling drugs, selling hookers, and being so unnecessarily violent!"

A beat.

"And what could you possibly give me in return for me to do that? And how would I even make a livelihood?"

"Why, only constant information as to the whereabouts of the remaining cape members of the E88." Tattletale said smugly.

The one known as Jailbird shyly handed him a sleek, black phone which was obviously Tinker-tech.

"Brockton Bay would be effectively yours." The Queen said.

"And with all the dough you'd steal from their warehouses afterwards you'd be set for life." Tattletale continued smoothly.

It was tempting, but…

"I want to fight."

He didn't want to spend the rest of his life growing fat and lazy. Sitting down with a good book was only good occasionally. Sometimes he just wanted to fight and fight until there was nothing but fire in his veins and blood on his fists. Sure, it'd be a thrill to hunt down the Nazis. But afterwards, if he stopped all his criminal activity according to the deal (and Lung always followed through on his promises) then the Protectorate would stop attacking him. Sure, it was only a token one every month or so, but he treasured each and every one.

"Easy." The Queen spoke up. Not as boisterous as before. More serious, yet just as confident. It was easier to find a smidgen of respect for her this way.

She leaned close into his ear and whispered him her secret. Kenta listened.