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- "Ya know, your problem, Fourze, it's that you aren't naming enough of your attacks! Call it a Fourze Space Salvo or something! Look, it's easy!" With a flick of a finger, it snapped up at the joint to reveal a hidden barrel. "This one's stuck in my index finger, and it packs a wallop, so I named it Ouch Finger!"
- BANG, the plume of smoke didn't have time to rise before the bullet flew towards him, crossed the room, within arm's reach--
- Elec, on!
- An electric blade cut it out of the air. Well, "electric blade" made it sound grander than it was. It was about as sharp as a sword you'd find in a Halloween superstore. Still, it wasn't the edge that got you. The black sword glowed and crackled with energy, ten billion volts.
- All of Fourze's kit was like that. They weren't meant to be scary, or badass, or threatening. They were fun. A hero was something for children to aspire to, not someone to strike fear in people's hearts. Steel wrapped in velvet, that might've been a good phrase. True strength didn't need to assert itself. It will come to light when it has to.
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