Gojo floated high above the chaotic city streets, the distant wails of sirens and alien snarls filling his ears.
He reached up and slid his black sunglasses off, tucking them into the collar of his loose white shirt. His Six Eyes blue across his face,—scanning the mess below with razor-sharp clarity.
He'd pinpointed the Flaxans instantly: those green, ugly aliens spilling out of shimmering portals like ants from a kicked nest.
With a quick thought, he teleported, popping into the sky right above them, hovering with his hands in his pockets.
The Flaxans spotted him fast—their bulbous heads swiveling, weapons jerking up—and they let loose.
Laser guns spat beams of light, mechs roared with heavy blasts, but none of it got close. Infinity buzzed around him, a quiet hum only he could feel, slowing every shot to a crawl before they froze midair, inches from his smirking face. He didn't even flinch—just tilted his head, amused.
He cast his gaze downward, taking stock of the situation. The Teen Team was in bad shape—way worse than anything he'd seen in the show.
Dupli-Kate wasn't even bothering to fight anymore; she darted through the wreckage, her sneakers kicking up dust as she spawned clones left and right.
The duplicates popped up, waving their arms to distract the Flaxans, only to get zapped by lasers or smashed by mechs, vanishing in little puffs of smoke.
She was surviving, not winning—her face tight with panic as she kept running, cloning, dodging. Rex Splode was at least trying to hit back, chucking his explosive balls with gritted teeth.
Each one landed with a satisfying boom, blasting clusters of aliens into gooey chunks, but there were just too many.
Sweat dripped down his forehead, soaking his hair as he ducked a laser, yelling curses—"Damn it, stay down!"—only for more Flaxans to swarm in, overwhelming him with numbers.
Atom Eve was the only one holding it together, her pink energy glowing bright as she worked double-time.
She zipped around, lifting chunks of fallen concrete with a wave of her hand, pulling trapped civilians free—kids, shopkeepers, anyone still breathing.
She'd shield them with shimmering barriers, guiding them to safety down side streets, her voice sharp but steady: "Go, now—move!" She'd gotten every last survivor out, but the toll was ugly.
Gojo's Six Eyes picked up the grim tally: 123 dead already, their bodies strewn across the shattered pavement—some crushed under rubble, others burned by stray blasts.
Property damage was through the roof too—cars flattened into pancakes, storefronts caved in, whole buildings leaning like they'd topple any second.
The street was a war zone, water gushing from busted hydrants, smoke curling up from smoldering wrecks.
Gojo clicked his tongue, drifting lower, his white hair catching the wind. 'I'm all about doing this clean and quick,' he thought, 'but right now? Screw the property damage—this is Hollow Purple time.' His eyes zeroed in on the source of the chaos: three interdimensional portals pulsing on the ruined road.
The middle one was huge, a gaping maw of light spewing out mechs—towering machines with clanking limbs and glowing cannons—along with heavier gear like rolling tanks.
The other two were smaller, each about twice the height of a Flaxan, vomiting out waves of foot soldiers armed with laser rifles and snarling teeth. Big one's the priority, he decided, cracking his neck.
'Hollow Purple for that bad boy, then Red and Blue for the little twins.'
With a flicker of thought, he teleported again, landing smoothly at the middle stretch of the road near Robot.
Dust swirled around him as his shoes hit the cracked asphalt, the air thick with the stench of burning metal and alien flesh.
Robot stood a few feet away, unfazed by the madness, his metal frame gleaming under the flickering streetlights.
He was barking orders into his comm—calm, precise, like he was reading a grocery list instead of directing a losing fight. His head turned as Gojo appeared, glowing eyes locking onto him without a hint of surprise.
"Oh, you're here," Robot said, his voice even, carrying that clipped rhythm that wasn't quite human but not fully mechanical either. "I presume your business with Cecil is concluded. It would be good if you could assist us with this situation."
Gojo grinned wide, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop-pop. "Yeah, yeah, Robot—business on pause, but…?" He didn't wait for a nod or a word, already sizing up the portals with a glint in his eyes.
The Flaxans noticed him again, their laser guns swiveling his way, mechs stomping closer with earth-shaking steps. He didn't budge, just floated up a bit, hands loose at his sides.
'Hollow Purple's gonna be epic,' he thought, smirking as the biggest portal pulsed brighter, spitting out another mech that roared with mechanical fury.
The smaller portals churned too, more soldiers piling out, their numbers swelling like a tide.
The scene around him was grim—Dupli-Kate's latest clone got skewered by a laser, popping out of existence as she ducked behind a wrecked car, panting hard.
Rex lobbed another explosive, taking out a dozen Flaxans, but stumbled back as three more tackled him, forcing him to roll away swearing—"Get off me, you green bastards!" Eve hovered above, her energy flagging as she shielded a last civilian darting for cover, her face tight with strain.
The casualties were piling up, the city crumbling, and the team was drowning. Gojo's smirk didn't fade, though—he'd seen worse, and this? This was just a warm-up.
He tilted his head back, letting his Six Eyes drink in every detail—the Flaxans' movements, the portals' shimmer, the team's fading stamina.
The Flaxans fired again, lasers streaking toward him, but Infinity brushed them off like flies. Robot glanced his way, still calm, still directing—"Eve, prioritize containment; Rex, focus explaodes"—and Gojo chuckled under his breath.
Gojo stood in the middle of the wrecked street, the Flaxans swarming below like a green tide, their portals pulsing with menace. He cracked his neck, ready to end this, but first turned to Robot, who was still barking orders nearby.
"But… yeah, Robot," Gojo called, voice sharp over the chaos, "tell everyone to retreat—now. They'll get caught up in what I'm about to do." His grin was gone, replaced by a focused glint in his glowing eyes.
Robot's head tilted, his mechanical mind thrown for a loop. "Retreat? Can you clarify—" he started, but before he could finish, a voice crackled through his communicator, cutting him off.
"Robot, do as he says. Retreat with everyone." It was Cecil, firm and no-nonsense, broadcasting from the GDA. Robot paused for a split second, processing, then nodded. "Understand," he said, switching to the team's channel. "All members—retreat immediately. This is an order."
The team's reactions came fast and messy. Rex, dodging a Flaxan's laser, spun around, shouting, "Okay, Robot, you just stole my line—what the hell?!" His voice cracked with frustration as he lobbed an explosive ball, blasting a mech's leg off.
Dupli-Kate, panting behind a flipped car, spawned another clone that got shredded by gunfire. "We're doing our best, but we can't fight these things alone—I'm with Robot," she said, ducking as her clone vanished.
"He wouldn't pull us back without a plan." Atom Eve, hovering above, her pink energy flaring as she shielded a crumbling wall from collapsing, snapped back,
"What are you talking about? They keep coming—more and more—and you want us to retreat? Are you crazy?" Robot's calm voice cut through her protest. "It's part of a strategy, Eve. Comply." She snorted, rolling her eyes—"Unbelievable, just bailing like this"—but relented, her energy shifting as she threw up a glowing shield around herself, Rex, Dupli-Kate, and Robot.
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A/N: So, Most people said purple, some red and blue. Respecting all of you readers I used all three of them. Next chaoter is coming in few minutes.