Project ROWDY 2-9

Mark Grayson was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and no one could really deny that.

Not even his mom.

From the way she had gone quiet when Brick asked about Mark’s grades when he was their age, especially not his mom.

So, Brick couldn’t say that he was anywhere close to surprised when Mark’s mouth just hung open as he gave a loud… “huh?”

Boomer… Boomer wasn’t all that far away as his brother tilted his head to the side and just stared.

It was silent for all of three seconds.

“Pffsnrk!”

Then Butch snorted.

A choked-off guttural sound of pure, unadulterated disbelief, his little brother seemed to use all his willpower for a split-second, face going as red as Brick’s eyes as he almost held it back for the second time that day.

Almost.

Then it broke free, unrestrained and loud; a sharp, ugly cackle of a laugh that echoed off the black glass of the skyscraper in front of them as Butch bent over, actually clutching his stomach and outright wheezing like an asthmatic hyena.

Odd for someone who didn’t even need air.

“J-J-JOEY FINKLEBERRY?!” Brickford Mojo didn’t bother to hold back his sigh this time as he watched Butch fall to his knees, super-strong fist pounding pavement as his brother cratered it with each laugh that spilled out of him. “FINKLEBERRY?!” 

Oh wow… He had to give Butch his props. Actual tears of laughter? That’s… that’s crazy. As stupid and impulsive as his brother was, he didn’t let anyone or anything get in the way of him showing how he felt.

“OH, SHIT, GUYS, LOOK OUT!” Butch dropped backwards, rolling on the shattered ground around him as Mark and Boomer just stared at him while he just… Kept. On. Laughing. “JOEY FINKLEBERRY’S COMING FOR YOU!”

Butch… Brick sighed again, shaking his head. Your name’s literally Butcher Mojo. Putting aside the clear hypocrisy on display, Brick didn’t allow himself to ignore the actual threat in front of him as the other thirteen-year-old hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, the tendons in Joey’s scrawny neck standing out like steel cables.

Laughter finally leaving his lungs with a too-long wheeze, Butch Mojo finally pulled himself off the powdered pavement, the thirteen-year old wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his green fingerless gloves. “Jeeeesus… I needed that, man.”

“You done?” Joey only had two syllables in him, both of them seeming to take all his effort given how tightly he was grinding his teeth.

“Look, kid, a laugh is a laugh but we’re on a job and I really wanna blow up a pizza place before lunch, okay?” Butch looked up and snorted again, shooting Joey a lazy glance as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “How ‘bout you get out of our wa-”

The world blurred, air cracking like a cannon as Joey moved.

Brick almost missed it as he chose the wrong moment to blink, the flicker of motion that was there and then not-there as the impact sound came flat and wet.

The CRACK snapped the air in half as Butch's head whipped back with force that would’ve eliminated anybody not in primary colors. Then, his whole body was just gone, a green missile launched backward with impossible violence.

The skyscraper behind them got a clean hole torn right through it. Then the next one. Then the one after that. A good dozen buildings felt the force as the projectile that was his little brother carved a perfect straight line of destruction through Chicago's skyline, Butch-shaped tunnels punching through glass and steel both.

Shit.

"Butch!" Boomer's eyes went wide; shock, confusion and fear warring for space on the blue Rowdyruff’s expressive face.

Joey stood where he'd been, fist still extended, flexing his other arm to show... nothing, barely any muscle at all. "YOU SEE THAT? I'M THE STRONGEST KID ON THE PLANET."

Brick didn’t even have to wait a full second before a distant roar answered back.

That pinpoint scream was swallowed up by a sonic boom; the comet wreathed in a corona of pure green rage reversing course as he screamed back toward them at twice the speed he'd left. Butch reappeared above them, blood trickling from his already-healing nose, a line of red pooling at the corner of his mouth. One finger slid under his nose, wiping away the blood as eyes glowed the color of toxic death.

"THE FUCK YOU ARE!" The roar promised nothing but pain, one finger pointing bloody at Finkleberry. "You guys go take down DataDick. I got this nerd."

Numbers don't add up. Brick's face stayed flat but his brain was scrambling, calculating and recalculating. Joey's power level was off the charts according to the GDA files, officially unquantifiable. 

That was bad enough, but what made that way more complicated than it sounded was the simple fact that they used that for a lot of threats. Literally, that was what they always said for people stronger than the Guardians of the Globe.

The S-Tiers, the Class Ks; whatever name you wanted to put them under, it was basically anyone above even the normal heavy-hitters that sat around Class 100 like Immortal. It wasn’t much of a classification considering that could mean anyone from Invincible last year to… to freaking Omni-Man.

Butch, even with how strong he’d gotten after they’d gotten their respective shits rocked, might not be enough. Might. Brick grit his teeth as he stared up at his brother. Fuck.

"...Invincible." The name slid out even without him opening his mouth. "Help him… please."

Mark snapped to attention, no longer staring in shocked silence at the series of Butch-shaped holes marring the city. He stared through one cracked goggle lens, from Brick's grim face to Butch's furious snarl, then to Joey's weirdly normal form. "Sure. Yeah. On it."

Good.

Joey didn’t seem to think that was good at all. “On what? You think you can take me? The only orders any of you get come from me.” The glasses-wearing teenager slapped his red t-shirt loud enough it echoed.” If I want you to die, you die, y’hear me?”

"Boomer." Brick was already turning toward the tower, red eyes narrowing to lethal focus. "On me."

Finkleberry snapped his head over at Brick. “Hey, mullet-boy, look at me when I’m talking to y-”

Whatever he had to say went unheard as the pavement shattered apart, the entirety of downtown Chicago rumbling as both of Butch’s boots slammed down in a spear of a literal dropkick. Joey Finkleberry’s face carved a deep line into the ground, digging so far deep that Brick could barely see his body.

Butch grinned his way. “Kick ass, big bro. We got this.”

“You got nothing.” Joey Finkleberry pulled himself out of the mess that was the carefully laid concrete infront of CyberFace Tower, clothes seemingly unstained and in perfect condition, just like his glasses. “I said, I’M THE STRONGEST KID IN THE WORLD!”