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Hiromu dropped to the ground as his suit failed, holding his blade up desperately. His right knee throbbed, and his left wrist was definitely sprained, possibly broken. Enter's blade glanced off his, but then Enter was back, one foot on the concrete on either side of Hiromu's waist.
"Red Buster," he purred. Hiromu couldn't hear anything from the crowd who'd been around earlier. He hoped desperately that they'd all gotten out of the way in time. All safe. No one else had to die, right?
Hiromu tried to say something pithy and annoyed, but he sneezed in Enter's face instead.
Enter froze, then his free hand came up and he wiped convulsively at the mess on his cheek.
"Er. Sorry," Hiromu said awkwardly, but he was scrabbling backwards at the same time. Got to get some distance, got to try to recover enough energy to transform again. Being sick didn't make this any easier, but being sick didn't give him any free passes either.
There was a glare from Enter, who promptly disappeared.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next day a box shimmered into existence just outside one of their usual drop points. EMC staff had it contained and tested within minutes.
Nothing suspicious in it.
Just tissues, vitamin C, throat lozenges, and soup, with a note that read
GET BETTER, MA PUCE.
Being sick didn't give him any free passes, but apparently annoying Enter got him free stuff.