Yellow Hood used his power to change his skin into rock, to protect him on impact. But as Basu landed on Yellow Hood, the rock skin was not enough. Basu’s massive weight crushed Yellow Hood’s rock body into the ground, his innards splattering out of cracks in his sides.
When Basu stood, brushing guts and crumbles of rock skin from his belly, he stared down Crow. He wiped the green toxic sludge from the back of his head, pulling off a wad of his melted scalp and tossed it aside. The acid had burned all the way to the bone, exposing part of his skull. He paid it no mind.
“Kill him,” Crow yelled.
Red Hood hesitated. Without all four team members, the assassins felt lost, flawed.
“I said kill him!
Red Hood and Purple Hood charged the ninja. Blue Hood circled around his back. Red Hood disappeared into black smoke and then reappeared with his sword mere inches from Basu’s throat. But the sword stopped just before piercing the flesh. Red Hood was staring into Basu’s eyes. The morbidly obese ninja grunted at him. Seeing Basu’s hands resting on his waist, Red Hood wondered what had stopped his attack. He looked down to see that it was Basu’s flabby breasts that had caught the blade, reaching up like an extra set of limbs.
Then, as if he had more sets of limbs, several rolls of fat launched like fists at Red Hood, punching him in the chest and stomach. The fat rolls pummeled him repeatedly until Basu’s breasts released the blade, wrapped around his throat, and snapped the assassin’s neck.
As Blue Hood came up behind, Basu grabbed him by the mouth just as he was about to spit another glob of the green toxic sludge. With the acid trapped inside of Blue Hood’s mouth, it began eating through his cheeks and tongue. Basu glared at him, squeezed his face harder as the man struggled to break free. When the toxic fluid drained down the back of his mouth, Blue Hood’s throat melted open, releasing a river of blood down his chest. Basu left him writhing on the ground.
The last assassin, Purple Hood, trembled beneath the mighty Basu. He used his secret assassin power. Purple Hood’s body multiplied into twelve different clones of himself that spread out and surrounded Basu. Only one of them was the real Purple Hood. The others were just illusions.
But his illusions could not hide him from Basu. The obese ninja had grown an acute sense of smell ever since his brain became guided by his stomach. He could smell which one was the real purple-hooded assassin. Basu went straight up to him and picked him up in a bear hug.
As Basu crushed the assassin’s ribcage, he smelled something appealing in the man’s sweat. Purple Hood, for some reason, smelled a bit like cheeseburgers to Basu. Realizing he was behind on his calorie intake for the day, Basu decided to indulge himself. He ripped open Purple Hood’s polo shirt and bit into the flesh on his arm.
Purple Hood screamed as Basu began to eat him alive. Large round teeth ripped at the flesh on the assassin’s body, trying to find some delicious high calorie fats among the disgustingly lean meat. Basu had never resorted to cannibalism in the past, but now realized that it was a potential source of calories in an emergency situation.
When the last elite assassin fell dead in the ninja’s arms, Basu retrieved his iKatana and stumbled toward Crow. Bloody sweat poured down his massive frame. A chunk of human fat dangled from his lips.
Although he knew Basu had won the battle, Crow had already lost interest in the fight and had turned his attention to Oki. He had the unlocking mechanism in his hand and was about to put it to the boy’s chest
Crow looked over his shoulder and blinked his beady eyes at his old friend.
“Stop,” Basu told him, while chewing on the chunk of fat.
Crow stood up.
“Or what?” Crow said.
Basu swallowed the meat, then ran forward a few steps and raised his sword.
Crow let out a birdlike chuckle.
“You can’t kill me,” Crow said.
When Basu stood, brushing guts and crumbles of rock skin from his belly, he stared down Crow. He wiped the green toxic sludge from the back of his head, pulling off a wad of his melted scalp and tossed it aside. The acid had burned all the way to the bone, exposing part of his skull. He paid it no mind.
“Kill him,” Crow yelled.
Red Hood hesitated. Without all four team members, the assassins felt lost, flawed.
“I said kill him!
Red Hood and Purple Hood charged the ninja. Blue Hood circled around his back. Red Hood disappeared into black smoke and then reappeared with his sword mere inches from Basu’s throat. But the sword stopped just before piercing the flesh. Red Hood was staring into Basu’s eyes. The morbidly obese ninja grunted at him. Seeing Basu’s hands resting on his waist, Red Hood wondered what had stopped his attack. He looked down to see that it was Basu’s flabby breasts that had caught the blade, reaching up like an extra set of limbs.
Then, as if he had more sets of limbs, several rolls of fat launched like fists at Red Hood, punching him in the chest and stomach. The fat rolls pummeled him repeatedly until Basu’s breasts released the blade, wrapped around his throat, and snapped the assassin’s neck.
As Blue Hood came up behind, Basu grabbed him by the mouth just as he was about to spit another glob of the green toxic sludge. With the acid trapped inside of Blue Hood’s mouth, it began eating through his cheeks and tongue. Basu glared at him, squeezed his face harder as the man struggled to break free. When the toxic fluid drained down the back of his mouth, Blue Hood’s throat melted open, releasing a river of blood down his chest. Basu left him writhing on the ground.
The last assassin, Purple Hood, trembled beneath the mighty Basu. He used his secret assassin power. Purple Hood’s body multiplied into twelve different clones of himself that spread out and surrounded Basu. Only one of them was the real Purple Hood. The others were just illusions.
But his illusions could not hide him from Basu. The obese ninja had grown an acute sense of smell ever since his brain became guided by his stomach. He could smell which one was the real purple-hooded assassin. Basu went straight up to him and picked him up in a bear hug.
As Basu crushed the assassin’s ribcage, he smelled something appealing in the man’s sweat. Purple Hood, for some reason, smelled a bit like cheeseburgers to Basu. Realizing he was behind on his calorie intake for the day, Basu decided to indulge himself. He ripped open Purple Hood’s polo shirt and bit into the flesh on his arm.
Purple Hood screamed as Basu began to eat him alive. Large round teeth ripped at the flesh on the assassin’s body, trying to find some delicious high calorie fats among the disgustingly lean meat. Basu had never resorted to cannibalism in the past, but now realized that it was a potential source of calories in an emergency situation.
When the last elite assassin fell dead in the ninja’s arms, Basu retrieved his iKatana and stumbled toward Crow. Bloody sweat poured down his massive frame. A chunk of human fat dangled from his lips.
Although he knew Basu had won the battle, Crow had already lost interest in the fight and had turned his attention to Oki. He had the unlocking mechanism in his hand and was about to put it to the boy’s chest
Crow looked over his shoulder and blinked his beady eyes at his old friend.
“Stop,” Basu told him, while chewing on the chunk of fat.
Crow stood up.
“Or what?” Crow said.
Basu swallowed the meat, then ran forward a few steps and raised his sword.
Crow let out a birdlike chuckle.
“You can’t kill me,” Crow said.