The fat man's brain was unusually clear.
Wait!
Mecha?
F-Fury?
The fat man's face was a spectacle.
That large painted lead ball, is it a mecha?
What kind of cosmic joke is this?
Fat Brother likes those domineering mechas that are wildly cool and explosive.
The kind that runs without worry, attacks without trouble, and defensively explodes when needed.
It would be best if it came with a pair of flashy wings...
Young Master Harry was incredibly indignant.
What use is a spherical mecha like this?
He wanted to run; does this thing even have legs?
Don't tell me this mecha moves by rolling.
He couldn't bear the humiliation.
...
"You fatass, come out!"
The people outside were already quite agitated.
"Damn!"
One of them raised the butt of his gun and slammed it on the mecha's surface.
With a clang, the fat man inside shuddered violently.
"Vice-captain, the person inside won't come out, c'mon, c'mon..."
