ACL: 6. Ice to meet you! What? Snow’t the time for puns? Fuck you, it’s always time for puns. (Patreon)

Chapter 6: Ice to meet you! What? Snow’t the time for puns? Fuck you, it’s always time for puns.

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Type: Ice

I woke up and felt cold. There was an undeniable chill in my bones, but it was not unpleasant. A refreshing breeze, the delicious chill of ice cream, or the refreshing wash of a cool shower in the summer. Aura was life. Aura was emotion. Aura was impression.

My greater connection to my own aura was slowly bleeding over even in my human form. It was just a feeling for now, but it was also a promise that one day, I could recover everything I once had and more.

"Morning Mrs. Wells," I muttered as I shuffled out of the orphanage.

"You're really taking your new routine seriously aren't you, dear?" she said with an approving smile. "Just remember to be here for mass."

I rolled my eyes. It was an old argument between us. I didn't deny the existence of divinity, how could I, but I didn't see the point in whispering to the air in the hopes that said divinity would hear me. Arceus didn't work that way. I knew little of this YHWH person, but I couldn't bring myself to take church seriously.

There was something to be said for worship. Prayer truly did have power. And yet, worship, prayer, these things weren’t the affairs of a single afternoon every seven days. No, worship was a way of life. As an aura master, it was my responsibility to live like I valued Arceus.

Thankfully, the matron of the Egg House wasn't particularly religious either. She considered the church a place of ethical teaching rather than spiritual enlightenment.

"Must I, Mrs. Wells? You know how I feel about mass."

"Are you going to fidget and draw on the songbooks like a child?"

"Yes,” I said, utterly unrepentantly.

"Then go be disruptive elsewhere, you brat. I swear, how you can be such a nice boy and still act like you're allergic to church is beyond me."

"Because morality does not have to be congruent to religion," I said blandly.

"Faith can bring out the best in us."

"It can," I agreed. "It can also bring out the worst in us. It's a facet of being human, but let's not blame faith for our virtues and vices."

"True enough. You’ve grown up," she said with a wry smile. "Now get on with your run. And don't think I didn't see you turning up late last night. You be here for dinner, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Skipping mass would free up my entire day. I could afford to make this one concession.

My feet pounded pavement in a rhythmic beat. After a week of this, my mind more or less checked out, allowing my body to run on mostly muscle memory. I headed south and east for about two miles, ending at a park before looping back around.

There, I decided to take a quick break, leaning against a stone statue to catch my breath. He was supposed to be an important pilgrim or something, but the statue made him look a bit like Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride.

"That was good hustle, man," I heard behind me.

I turned around to see a tall, muscular boy with short cropped hair. He was Latino, or maybe Filipino, and had a disarming smile on his face. His shirt was soaked through, likely through with his own workout. His physique honestly made me feel a little insecure, almost like I was working out with Maylene’s old man and his machamp again.

I nodded and held out a hand for him to shake. "Thanks, I'm Blake. What's your name?"

"Hah, I know. We go to school together, though I'm a year above you. Carlos."

"Ah, that's why you look so familiar. I think I've seen you around."

"Yup. I'm in advanced English with you."

"Heh, sorry. I don't really talk much with anyone."

"We noticed. It's cool though. You're not the only one who wants to sleep through the class. I've seen you running in the mornings. You new to this?"

"Yup. Any advice for the new guy?"

"Drink lots of water. Anyway, I live right over there," he gestured vaguely to an apartment building on the other side of the street. "You ever want to hang, let me know."

"Yeah, will do. Hey, before you run off," I called. "You know where any good places to work out?"

"The school gym? I don't think the sports teams care too much if you just want to lift weights or something."

"It's too crowded during the weekdays and I have my vocational stuff to do. After that, it's usually too late and the gym's closed."

"Ah, yeah, sure. I know a place. A cousin of mine used to box there. Let me text you the address."

We split off after exchanging numbers, him back to his house and me starting another two mile jog to the orphanage. Halfway there, I received a text with an address.

"Laborn Boxing, huh?"

I dropped by the orphanage long enough to grab a snack before dashing out again with my jacket and beat up helmet in my backpack. The first thing I wanted to do today was to visit my hideout in the abandoned ferry station. Sabah had a healthy stock of tyrantrum scales from yesterday and I had a bunch of lycanroc fur to add some trim, but that didn't mean I couldn't provide her with a few more things.

When I arrived, I turned into a litwick and snuck in through the shadows again. It was still early, so I was only mildly surprised to see a familiar girl cuddled up in a sleeping bag and leaning against the storage room door.

Emily looked peaceful like this, off in dreamland where none of her troubles could bother her. I prayed Cresselia would give her sweet dreams. I was relieved, happy that she'd taken me up on my offer to crash here. The storage room was as far back in the building as you could get so she probably felt safer here.

I smiled and waded through her shadow to her other side before turning back into my human form. It was obvious that she hadn't wasted the hundred bucks I gave her yesterday. The sleeping bag was new and looked quite nice, probably wouldn't be amiss in a decent backpacking kit. At her side was also a new pocket knife and a pack of granola bars.

It was good to see she wasn't squandering what I gave her. I tore a page from a notebook for school and scribbled a message.

"Money for breakfast. Granola shouldn't be all you eat."

I folded it alongside a ten dollar bill and tucked it next to her granola before dipping into the cave.

X

The hole was, surprise, pitch-black.

"By the great llama’s dick, what the fuck was I expecting…"

I pulled out a flashlight and considered my options. Now that I had a decent outer layer in the form of tyrantrum scales, I wanted to make a good undershirt. I also needed a middle layer, something soft to protect me from impacts.

I was considering snom silk for the undershirt. The shy bug types didn't really use their silk in combat so most never learned String Shot, but they were known to make cocoons from trees disguised as icicles. The silk had some interesting properties, namely being highly insulating. I'd seen shirts made of this in Galar before and they tended to fetch a high price.

Ideally, the middle layer would be made of leather, or perhaps a shirt of smaller chain links, but as impressive as mamoswine leather sounded, I wasn't keen on allowing myself to be literally skinned alive.

I shrugged. "Ehh, nothing wrong with regular leather. Well, let's get to work. Shift, snom."

I shrank to the size of a single foot. Heading over to one corner, I began to spit silk for eight minutes before turning back. Then, a minute later, I was right back at it.

Spitting silk from my mouth was… strange. It was a feeling I never wanted to get used to. It was a weird pressure that made me feel like I was about to vomit, which, to be fair, I was. Still, none of the spools of silk came out smelling funny or anything, so there was that.

I didn't know how much would be enough for a shirt, and I wanted one with a few layers anyway, so I spent two and a half hours on it.

Then came the hard part: fur.

Shearing myself as lycanroc was a distinctly inefficient process, so I didn't want to try that again. Besides, I didn't think weavile fur would be particularly useful because it was so short. So, I came up with a new idea.

"Shift, Alolan sandslash."

It was a creature best known for incredibly sharp spikes of ice. I couldn't exactly break one off at will or anything, they were harder than steel, but I could make Icicle Spears from the wall. The idea was to make a stationary shaving station made from blades of ice.

It took a few tries, but I had something that seemed serviceable. Hopefully, I could get enough fur if I just… rubbed myself against the blade or something.

Or I'd bleed myself dry. Suicide by icicle… what a way to go…

A minute passed and I'd psyched myself up. It wasn't a big deal, just a pokemon rubbing itself against a sword stuck to a wall. I wasn't going to stab myself. Just shaving. Like a razor. No biggie…

"Shift, Alolan ninetales!"

And then, all my worries evaporated to nothing as a blanket of ice crystals formed in my fur. What did I have to worry about? I was a god. Mine was the frozen peak of Lanakila. Mine was the newly fallen snow, the obscuring blizzard, and the roaming gales that sang hymns of my beauty throughout the mountaintops. Clearly, Alola was on to something, risking life and limb to catch the slightest glimpse of my majestic visage.

Annoying humans, but at least they knew their place.

"Oh, my god," I heard a voice gasp behind me. Emily had woken up.

Irritation nudged at my mind. How dare this wench gaze upon this august self? How dare she step into this sanctum?

And then I turned and met her starstruck eyes.

Perhaps I was too hasty. She had the appropriate posture of reverence. There was no deceit to be found in her eyes, no emotion save awestruck wonder, as is appropriate. Every divinity deserved a priestess…

I shook my head.

No. That was the ninetales in me. They were one of the most beautiful pokemon in existence and well-aware of their beauty. They also happened to be some of the pettiest and most vindictive. Hell, some of the Kantoan variety were known for cursing entire family lines for perceived slights. Yes, they were worshiped, but they were also justly feared as well.

"Hello, Emily," I said, quashing down the part of me that wanted to demand she prostrate herself. I did indulge though, and flipped my head to the side, sending a shower of crystalline snow arcing through the air. Even in the dim light of the flashlight, I was a dazzling sight.

"M-Menagerie?" she asked tentatively. In her hands was a plastic bag filled with food, mostly cheap bagels sold in grocery stores. She'd clearly shopped for volume, not taste.

"That's me, my dear. Hero, Paragon of Arceus, and Will of Legends. What can I do for you?"

"Oh… Umm… Thank you. For letting me stay here I mean… And the money…"

"My dear, it is my pleasure." Then I had an idea. "Although, if you're feeling particularly grateful, I can think of one way for you to repay me."

"I-How?"

"Take that ice knife there and shave off some of my fur, won't you?"

I felt a surge of annoyance at that. Shaving! A glorious ninetales! Preposterous!

It was only the fact that I would be the one using this fur in the first place that soothed my ire. Besides, Emily was sweet. She deserved nice things, such as the privilege of running her fingers through my luxurious fur. I could stand allowing this indignity.

"Shave you?"

"Yes, I'm trying to make a costume for myself using some of my own materials."

"Oh… Umm… Okay." She went to the wall and gingerly pulled the knife from it. It wouldn't melt anytime soon, pokemon were bullshit like that, but she dropped it in short order. "C-Cold…"

I switched back.

It was a bit of a jarring experience. The ninetales had a mindset that was fundamentally alien. Not evil or malevolent, I was still myself in the end, but it certainly expressed different priorities. I'd felt it a little when I was an Alolan dugtrio, also when I was a tyrantrum. This mental influence was  something to keep in mind.

"Alright, let's go shopping. A thick pair of work gloves. Maybe some lights for this place."

"M-Me too?"

"Of course. You can pick up a few things you think you'll need while we're there."

"They… They don't want me," she mumbled, head down. She pointed to all of herself. "I look like a bum, alright? I can't just walk into a store without someone following me around to make sure I'm not stealing anything."

I frowned in annoyance. Not at Emily, but at the asshats who thought they could judge my friend. What was so amazing about being a cashier anyway? How many steps from homelessness was minimum wage?

Alas, humans were all the same. People loved to feel better about themselves through the misfortunes of others. Emily didn’t seem like she’d enjoy an outing with me so I didn’t push. "Alright, mind staying here for a bit then? Tell me what you need and I'll help you out."

X

I had to visit a few different stores, but I came back two hours later to find Emily doodling in my notepad.

"Oi, I need that for class," I complained. Then I saw what she made. It was a picture of me as ninetales, the dim flashlight drawn in such a way as to lend me an aura of mystery. "Huh, not bad. You’ve got talent.”

"Right? Sorry I drew in your notebook. I really like art and I just wanted something to do with my hands.”

I opened the large suitcase I bought and began to unload.

"No problem, Em. I have a portable generator for camping I can set up and charge at the orphanage when I need to, a light, food, and some clothes and toiletries for you," I said, handing her a thick sweater and sweatpants. I also decided to buy her some socks.

It was a spur of the moment thing, but I picked up a battery-powered hot plate from the camping store where I found the generator. I suspected she could use some hot food. It’d probably be top ramen or beans, but that was better than living off granola. I’d also gotten my hands on a small suitcase so I could ferry costume materials to Sabah and her friends.

"That's… This is too much… I can't pay you back."

"I know."

"This must have cost a lot."

"It’s mostly my own stuff. The priciest things here are the generator and suitcase and trust me, I needed those no matter what."

"But… Why…?"

“Why do I need a suitcase?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

"It's not wrong to help others," I said with an easy smile. I tossed her a pair of thick work gloves that would hopefully keep away the chill. "If it bugs you so much, think of this as a job. Now, shave me."

I had to remake the ice knife, but after that, things were smooth sailing. The other day when I tried shaving as a lycanroc, I only managed fifteen usable clumps of fur, most either coming out too frayed or not long enough thanks to the awkward angle.

Now that I had a dedicated helper, one with opposable thumbs, shaving me was a much easier affair.

"S-So soft…"

"Yes, dear," I said, tails swishing proudly. "Now quit dallying and shave."

"C-Can I scratch your ears?"

"If I let you take a picture with me using my phone, will you please get to work?"

"Deal."

By 3PM, we ended up with approximately forty-five clumps of ninetales fur. Not exactly a standardized metric, but ehh, I'd just have to toss them at Sabah and hope she could make something cool out of it.

X

"So you're leaving now?" Emily asked. She looked a little sad, a far cry from the guarded caution the other day.

"Yeah. I'm going to go build an ice rink for kids at the Boardwalk. Why? Wanna come?"

"Nah, it's okay. And… Thanks again. For everything."

"You don't have to sound like I'm going away forever. This is my hideout."

"Right."

"Just try not to lead anyone here if you can help it."

"Okay, I will. I kind of like having a place to sleep in peace.”

With that, I was off.

X

Walking through the Boardwalk was like walking through a completely different city. Gone were the graffiti, cracked pavement, and potholes I was used to seeing. Instead, I saw a scenic row of pricey restaurants and boutique clothing stores. I was here when I first talked to Parian, but it was a weekday evening. Sunday, the place was much more lively, filled with tourists here to see the Rig.

I was here to do one of the things that immediately came to mind when I realized I unlocked the ice type for today: Make a skating rink. I couldn't remember the last time I skated and I figured I might as well give the tourists something to gawk at.

"Hey you," I heard someone call. It was gruff and authoritative, made me think of Surge when he was being particularly demanding.

I turned around to find a pair of big, burly men in black jackets coming over. They wore dark sunglasses and a baton prominently sheathed to their hips.

I rolled my eyes. 'Enforcers…'

No one thought they enforced anything, not really. The Boardwalk was a safe neighborhood because it was immediately in front of the Rig, not because these clowns deterred crime. The worst crime they dealt with was chasing away undesirables.

I looked down at myself. Torn jeans. Beat up helmet that hid my face. Black jacket littered with dirt stains. 'Huh, guess I'm an undesirable today…'

I swallowed my annoyance and greeted them with my best customer service voice. "Yes, sirs? What can I help you with?"

"What're you doing here?" One of them said. I couldn't even be bothered to identify which. They were, at best, mall cops with delusions of grandeur.

"I am building an ice rink. I think right over there on the water would be good," I said completely honestly.

"Yeah, run along, punk. We don't need you causing trouble."

"I just want to make an ice rink."

"Yeah, how 'bout you run while we're feeling nice," one said while patting his baton.

"Oh, fuck this. Shift, spheal!" I suddenly shrank to less than a third my height. Tucking in my fins, I began to roll. "Menagerie away!"

"Shit, he's a cape!"

His partner had enough sense to open up his walkie-talkie. "We've got an unknown cape on the Boardwalk, over."

I ignored them both. These wood planks weren't great for my fur, but damn if rolling wasn't fun.

"Doorooroo-loo dooroooroo-loo, they see me rollin'~" I sang as I rolled between people's feet.

People jumped out of my way but it wasn't like I'd hit them. I rolled and rolled until I hit a curb, bouncing into some restaurant's outdoor patio. There, I came to a stop next to a waiter.

"This place is animal friendly, right?"

"U-Um… Yes…?"

"Awesome, you guys serve fish?"

"Ah… no…?"

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "What kind of a waterfront restaurant are you? Ugh, plebeian."

Kicking back with my flippers, I began to roll again, following the planks of the Boardwalk until I heard shouting behind me. It seemed like someone had finally decided a spheal wasn't threatening enough for them to pull back because I could see three men pushing themselves through the crowd.

I led them on a merry chase, weaving between legs and stalls until I had only a few minutes in my timer.

Then, I rolled towards a statue of a boat so I could use it as a ramp to dive into the ocean. And towards the statue… And closer… And closer… And closer…

I wasn’t getting any closer…

I stopped.

"There is a disturbance in the force…"

A figure stepped down from a nearby building, arms crossed but lips twitching with amusement. Cute, blonde, and short enough to make Maylene feel better about herself, this was Vista, the darling of the Wards. "Really? A Star Wars joke?"

I looked at her. Then at the enforcers. Then back at her. There was only one thing I could do.

I rolled towards her with all the desperate determination of a bowling ball and plopped my fuzzy but on top of her foot, hugging her shin like a limpet. "VISTA! THANK ARCEUS YOU'RE HERE! THESE EVIL MEN ARE ABOUT TO CLUB A BABY SPHEAL!"

"Aww, cute, but something tells me that's not the story I'll get."

"Vista, what've you got there?" A boy armored in red and gold descended from the sky on some kind of hoverboard. Kid Win, another member of the Wards. He was best known for a middle school robotics competition he sponsored, not for any actual heroics. Though to be fair, he was still young.

The enforcers were wise enough to walk away from this. Now that two heroes were here, I wasn't their problem.

I rolled off Vista’s foot. Playtime was over it seemed. Shifting back, I dusted myself off and held out a hand.

"Hi, Menagerie. Independent."

"Kid Win. Wards. I think I've heard of you."

"From Glory Girl? We've met."

"From Gallant actually. They're good friends. I hear you're a healer."

"Sometimes. Right now, I'm just here TO MAKE AN ICE RINK FOR KIDS," I said, loud enough for the two enforcers to hear. "I'm allowed to do that, right? No one owns the sea?"

"I mean…" he stammered. "I can't say I know."

"Well then I'm doing it."

"You can't," Vista cut in. "The ocean is still a part of the city so you'd need a municipal permit."

I looked at her. "Wait… why do you know that?"

"Because I've been a hero the longest of any Ward," she said proudly. "I've basically memorized the handbook."

"And there's a section that says 'no ice rinks?'"

"There's a section that says the Boardwalk and the sea is common property and you can't tamper with it without a permit. For the same reason you'd need a permit to dock a boat basically."

"Huh… You… know a lot more than expected."

"What?" she snapped defensively. "Because I'm short?"

"Sorry, sorry. I know, book covers and all that. You have to admit, it's a bit weird to see someone your age who reads city ordinance in her spare time."

"Well some of us would rather work to be a better hero than roll around people's feet," she huffed.

I sighed. It looked like I put my foot in my mouth. She seemed unexpectedly touchy about her age and what she perceived as being a good hero. That raised the question: Should I listen?

A minute of conversation had passed and I could just shift and make an ice rink. It's not as though they'd label me a villain for something so minor… right?

Or I supposed I could try to defuse the situation. But how…?

I sighed. Well, that was my fun ruined. And Glory Girl wondered why I didn't want to join the Wards.

"Alright, fine. The sea is city property, got it."

Vista shrugged. "Basically, yeah. Sorry. If you come with us, we could talk about what it'd take to do something like this."

I almost laughed at the blatant manipulation. Instead, I turned back into a spheal and looked up at her with tears in my eyes.

"There is to be no fun this day," I said glumly before rolling away.

"Hey, wait!"

I plopped into the ocean and promptly vanished.

X

I didn't really disappear. It was far too early for me to truly retire for the evening. No. Instead, I swam by the Boat Graveyard to my old training spot, that massive tanker grounded in the middle of the bay.

It was, according to many, what was keeping the Bay from prospering again. At this point, I felt that it had become something of a symbol, the source of all the city's woes according to blue-collar workers. Without it, trade would flow, if not from abroad, than certainly from along the Atlantic coast.

I was sure that part of it was bogus, just people projecting their laments onto an easy target to blame, but there had to be some truth to it. Right?

So, if they wanted it gone so badly, that's what I'd do. I told myself that as soon as I had a means of moving the ship, I would give it my old college try.

Aura guardian's honor.

As I found out over a library trip, it wasn't that big for a tanker. If anything, it was only of middling size, a relatively small ship meant to ferry goods along the Atlantic coast. The bigger ones meant to go international were much larger.

I found it hard to imagine. The tanker was apparently an Aframax-class ship, roughly 260 meters long. It could support over 100,000 tons and still float. And it was still just of middling size…

What was it with the humans of this world and superboats? My world had Sea Mauville, but that was only one and the project was scrapped a mere year after construction began.

It was nearing 4PM and I did promise Mrs. Wells I'd be there for dinner. Could I move the tanker in under two hours? It was still plenty bright outside and I would likely draw a lot of attention.

As I swam around the ship, I decided on a plan:

First, I would use a mix of Ice Beam and Blizzard to create large ice floes attached to the ship's surface, effectively turning the entire thing into a small iceberg. Since ice floated, it would push the ship upward, relieving some of the pressure that kept it grounded in the shallows.

Second, I would focus on loosening what remained of the ship touching the seafloor as walrein. Those pokemon were called the "ice break" pokemon for good reason: They regularly shattered entire sheets of ice with their tusks.

Third, once I had a fully floating ship, I would enact the last phase of my plan. I would turn into avalugg and push the ship out into the sea. Avalugg were the largest ice types on record, primarily because they didn't really stop growing. Being living ice, they effectively grew as long as there was enough pressure to make more ice. Older ones could be as large as small icebergs, taking up the same size as a ten story building or more. Most were slow and ponderous, but once they got moving, there wasn’t much that could stop them.

Fourth, after I got it far enough into the ocean, I would crack the ice from the ship, letting the ship sink down to the depths.

I didn't think I would be able to finish it all before dinner, but I could make the ice floes now and come back. Doing so would almost certainly be noticed, but the question remained if the attention was worthwhile. I didn't know if what I planned to do was legal, and heroes weren't likely to be the only ones interested in me.

In any case, there was merit to being seen. I'd already made a spectacle of myself as spheal after all.

If I came back after dinner, I could potentially do it in the dead of night. It was possible for me to finish before anyone ever noticed. Or perhaps not.

"Ehh, I can probably do it all when I come back," I decided.

A part of me wanted to make a big spectacle of myself, the first true show of strength I'd make as a hero. There was value in a powerful reputation after all. I remembered back when Iris first took over for Alder in Unova. Youngest Champion ever! Prodigy dragon mistress!

The crime rate was awful. Sure, some of it was the natural consequence of the Plasma Revolution, but having such an inexperienced Champion hurt the Unova League more than anyone cared to admit. Had that been Lance in her place, half the new wannabe "teams" wouldn't have dared wave their flags. Which wasn’t to say Iris was bad, but her age gave people a lot more courage than they should have had.

But… I wasn't Champion. I wasn't in charge of this city, never mind an entire region. Nor did I want to be.

Since when did the Paragon of Arceus give a damn about people's opinions?

I'd move the tanker, but I'd let my actions speak on my behalf. Let lesser heroes bitch and moan about reputation. In the end, the power of my pokemon would in itself be reputation enough.

X

I was back. I ate, claimed I had a school project, then dashed out, leaving Mark and Mrs. Wells no time to respond.

It was 8PM, the sun had set, I was back, and I was ready to make an iceberg.

"Shift, walrein!"

Suddenly, I was an aquatic mammal weighing in the ballpark of two tons. I swam out to the sea and began to cast liberal uses of Blizzard. Each blast generated enormous ice floes that stuck to the ship, floating and putting pressure upward.

I swam around the ship, slowly building up my stockpile of ice.

X

Three hours. Three long hours of this mess. I was soaked after the first ten minutes, having shifted back in the middle of the sea. I then had to tread water for a minute to catch my breath before turning back into a plus-sized popsicle-walrus.

It was slow, grueling work and I'd never felt more exhausted as I turned into avalugg and began the laborious task of moving the tanker. Slowly but surely, I built up momentum and began to slide the boat from the shallows. After a minute or so, the water helped tremendously and I could mostly relax as I paddled my stumpy feet.

It was nearing midnight when I got back, though I likely had half an hour or so. I could make a sign, something to show that it was my work. The question was… should I…?

Of course I should.

I'd leave a maker's mark. Why wouldn't I? It was a show of just what pokemon are capable of. If I did nothing, someone else might claim credit. Not that I thought the PRT would try to claim they did this or anything, they were still heroes after all, but anyone who boasted of great power would ultimately be called upon to demonstrate said great power.

Someone, somewhere, would come to challenge anyone who makes such grandiose claims, either to prove themselves or for some other reason. The last thing I wanted was for some idiot to get himself killed because he thought a bit of momentary fame was worthwhile.

So, a sign.

In the end, I decided on something simple. With a combination of Mud Slap and Earth Power, I rolled up the concrete in the Boat Graveyard directly overlooking where the tanker used to be.

There, using the claws of a weavile, I wrote:

"Menagerie was here.

You wouldn't let me build an ice rink for children, so I decided to clean up my bathtub a bit. Hope you don't mind."

Then, just to tweak the heroes' noses a bit, I added:

"Heh, wonder what they'll make of this?" I chuckled as I headed on home.

Really, what did it say about heroes that making an ice rink for children wasn't allowed? Stingy bastards…