As I reclined on the branch of the anti-matter tree, nearly 50 feet above the ground, the city sprawled beneath me, its emerald canopy providing a soothing contrast to the urban landscape. Amidst the tranquil scene, a sudden flashback seized me, catapulting me back to a frantic moment in a hospital corridor.
My mother, her flowing black hair obscured by an oxygen mask, lay motionless in a sterile room. A tense exchange between my father and the doctor filled the air, the doctor's callous demand for payment cutting through the urgency of the situation. Anger surged within me as my father pleaded, having already liquidated all he owned to meet the exorbitant fee.
"Moho-Sha, Moho-Sha," a voice echoed faintly, pulling me back from the painful memory. With a jolt, I tumbled from the branch, landing with an ungraceful "ouch." Before me stood my father, towering at six feet with piercing brown eyes, his complexion weathered by time.
"You're nearly late for the event, son," he reminded me sternly.
I effortlessly glided onto my hoverboard, designed to hover, and proceeded to follow the GPS to the location. As I arrived at the event center, a sinking feeling washed over me—I had forgotten the cleaning tools. I swiftly approached a nearby drone robot and requested the necessary equipment. The drone zipped off to a nearby room and returned with a set of neon cleaning tools, including a mop, broom, and other essentials.
However, my relief was short-lived when the drone robot informed me, much to my dismay, that it was assigned to supervise my activities. Annoyed, I attempted to dismiss it. "Get out, you mech trash," I said, but it stubbornly refused to leave. Frustrated, I hurled a nearby dustpan in its direction, inadvertently striking a tall man standing nearby.
The man, towering at 6'3" with a distinctive mod hairstyle and dressed in a sharp black suit, winced in pain. "Ouch! You've got quite the arm there," he remarked, rubbing his shoulder.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Could you ask your robot to stop spying on me?" I replied, feeling embarrassed by the mishap.
The man chuckled, "Sure thing. Robot 101, leave," he commanded, and the drone obediently retreated.
As I busied myself with cleaning, I couldn't resist the urge to play a prank on one of the other robots. "Hey, Robot 92," I called out mischievously.
"Yes?" it responded.
"Bring me some water," I instructed, suppressing a grin. The robot returned with a cup of water, which I promptly threw at it, causing it to malfunction.
"Ma-ma-malfunction!" it exclaimed. Unable to contain my laughter, I laughed heavily.
To my surprise, the man joined in the laughter. "Look, it's crying for its mama!" he quipped, adding to the amusement. After a moment, he extended his hand. "I'm Matthew, but you can call me Matt."
"I'm Moho-Sha Cycle," I replied, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. "Nice to meet you, Matt."
After finishing my cleaning duties, I made a swift exit, eager to leave the bustling event center behind. However, Matt intercepted me with a persuasive plea: "Stay for the coronation event, Moho-Sha. You've earned it." Reluctantly, I acquiesced, curiosity piqued by the promise of spectacle.
As I settled into a seat, the drone robot delivered a tray of food, its mechanical movements a stark contrast to the lively anticipation in the air. A hush fell over the crowd as a man took the stage, microphone in hand, signaling the commencement of the long-awaited coronation.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted from one of celebration to one of chaos as an ominous rain of green slime began to descend from the rafters, dissolving everything it touched with horrifying efficiency. Panic rippled through the crowd as the once joyous occasion devolved into a scene of terror.
Amidst the chaos, a figure emerged—a man named Blaze, his stature commanding respect as he ascended the throne-like chair, adorned with the insignia of Rank 10 and the prestigious Anti-Matter Corps. But before the coronation could proceed, the vile slime gave birth to grotesque monstrosities—twisted abominations with horned skulls and razor-sharp blades for hands. They descended upon the unsuspecting guests with ruthless ferocity, their bloodlust unquenchable.
Filled with revulsion at the sight of such carnage, I knew I had to act. Seizing a nearby bowl of rice, I improvised a distraction, luring one of the creatures away from its prey with the promise of food. But as it lunged towards me, I sensed its malevolent intent and reacted with lightning speed, evading its attack with a well-timed dodge. With a surge of adrenaline, I unleashed my latent anti-matter abilities—a power I had only recently discovered.
Channeling my energy into a devastating blow, I struck the creature with all my might, shattering its skeletal visage with a resounding crack. Yet, to my astonishment, my attack was mirrored by a translucent green hand, seemingly composed of the very same anti-matter energy.
Undeterred, I pressed on, unleashing a flurry of blows against the encroaching horde, each strike met with an equal force from the mysterious green hand. With a defiant roar, I confronted the creatures, channeling all my anger and determination into one final, decisive attack.
"Get off my planet, you alien scum!" I bellowed, unleashing a wave of anti-matter energy that engulfed the abominations in a