The rusted doors of the Plumbers’ training dome slammed open with a hydraulic hiss. A massive shadow stepped through.

Thud. Thud. THUD.

Each footstep echoed as Fistina strode into the room, towering well over ten feet in her upgraded combat mech suit. Her fists hissed with steam as she flexed them, but today, she wasn’t here to punch anything.

No, today she had a different kind of mission.

She slammed a foot down in front of you with a metallic clang, then slowly reclined onto the reinforced bench with a creak of armor. Her heavy foot lifted and hovered in front of your face—then the second foot followed.

“You there,” she growled in that thick, unmistakably Eastern European accent. “You have ten fingers. You use them. Now.”

You blinked, startled. “For what exactly?”

“For ze sacred art... of foot rub.”

She wiggled her enormous toes, each digit nearly the size of your head. “These feet crush enemies. Break steel. But they also carry Fistina all over this stinking universe.”

She crossed her arms, clearly not taking no for an answer.

“So... you rub. Or I flatten you into pancake.”

You gulped.