“NO!!! IT’S MINE!!!! YOU CAN’T!!!!”
An image of ten-foot-high letters flashed in Ice-Kool’s mind. To match the thirty-foot-tall guy yelling loud enough to shake the windows over in the next block, he figured.
He formed a pillar of ice beneath his feet, growing it quickly to raise himself up to the giant’s level.
“Sure, yes. Okay. You don’t wanna give it up. I get that. I got my stuff, I don’t wanna give it up either. I’m cool with that.”
Ice-Kool looked the man up and down, taking in the chubby arms and legs, the man-boobs and the flabby stomach that sagged over the top of the cloth diaper. It didn’t make much sense to him, a grown man dressing like a baby. Being thirty feet tall had nothing to do with it — it was just plain wrong.
He wished, though, that the guy was normal sized. Even with a ten-foot-tall raging man-baby, he could have frozen him up in a solid block of ice, let the guy cool off for a bit while he waited for the response team to show up and haul the fool away.
Thirty feet was just too big. He’d have to get creative.