Hey there! Thanks for clicking my wee little story. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this... thing.

My suggested song for reading this is "Unfinished Business", the theme for the stage Under the Bridge. Check the bottom for why, along with an explanation for a few quirks. Just type in youtube and add in the junk below, and you'll be at the song.

watch?v=58NKCwjz6e8&t=142s


September 13, 8:29 P.M.

It was a dark, foggy night. Things were relatively peaceful in the streets of New Meridian, at least compared to most nights.

Within the fog, two figures could be seen walking through into the city's business district...


The Imanok Gang's base of operations was surprisingly spacious tonight. Over the years, the Medici Mafia, New Meridian's highest criminal empire, has allowed the Imanok Gang to survive and even thrive at one point in Downtown New Meridian. However, poor results over the past year have resulted in less Medici cooperation and protection, resulting in many lost members as of recent months.

That said, not all things were bad at the moment. The Imanok Gang was notorious for two things: exporting very valuable and illegal street drugs, and human trafficking. While human trafficking has been at an all-time low for the group, the illegal drugs have sold at a consistent pace with few busts to note, meaning the remaining workers were paid well for their services to the gang.

Two of these workers walk off an elevator into the main lobby of the gang's 10-floor building. "So I says to Mabel, I says," one thug recites to the other, gossiping about their personal lives. When suddenly...

BOOOOM!

An explosion rocks through the plaza, sending many to the floor, scrambling for their bearings. Through the smoke, two men enter.

One wore a skull mask with a 3-piece suit, and wielded a large knife that almost seemed to be a small machete in his right hand while brandishing a fireman's axe on his shoulder. The figure next to him was a dark-skinned man holding a strange bulky pistol with a scope and a flashlight in his right hand while holding what appeared to be an arcade stick in the other. He wore a pair of black shutter shades, a green jacket with brown fur trimming, and had large dreadlocks colored green, yellow, purple, and black pouring out of his hood.

"I-it's the Scrublords!" one of the lackeys yelled, causing the masked man to noticably scowl. "They've- They've come to-" His sentence was cut short when the gun-toting man opened fire, wiping the both of them out. Reinforcements soon came from upstairs, but were quickly silenced by the masked man's knife and continuous gunfire.

Soon, the pair of fighters left the first floor, leaving a pile of bloodied and dead cronies across the ground.


On the 10th floor of the Imanok Headquarters, a tucked businessman was having a bad day.

It was bad enough that his operations were being busted a LOT more than usual, thanks in part by the Medicis cutting their little deal off quite a while back. If it weren't for the fact that these were the Medicis we're talking about, he definitely would've said "fuck it" and killed them on the spot. He'd done it with even his most trusted colleagues, so why not? The only thing that stopped him was the realization that even in their hayday, the Medicis outnumbered and outgunned them in any way imaginable. That little conflict would be solved in seconds, and he wouldn't be on the winning side.

Now, he was in a slight panic over the explosion that just so happened to be at the bottom floor of his headquarters. Jumping under his desk in a panic, he fumbled out his radio to contact one of his highest grunts.

"Garas! The hell is happening down there?!" he screamed through the device.

"I don't know yet, boss," Garas replied, "but we're sending a crew down there to handle the situation."

"Garas, I don't want answers five minutes from now, I want them now!" he responded with a scowl. "Take your little crew and make sure they don't get killed. We're already low on men, and we need to know who or what the hell decided that knocking on the door is placing a bomb in the damn mailslot!"

Garas waited a second before curtly replying. "Okay boss. I'll get the details ASAP."

'For the love of god...' the pissed mobster thought to himself as he sat back in his chair, viewing the surveilance system he had put in place to look for any slacking employees or moles. 'Who the hell has the nerve to attack our base, much less fucking bomb it?'

He started to chuckle. "The dumbasses are probably already dead. Their obvious lack of brain cells probably made them jump in front of a few bullets."

He started to scan the cameras for any signs of life on the first floor, and was staggered to find a pile of bodies. "Holy Trinity..." he muttered in disbelief. Two figures' movement on the outside edge of the room caught his eye, and he turned to study their unusual getup.

Suddenly, Garas and 5 different goons appeared from the elevator and took to the offensive with heavy gunfire. The two quickly ducked behind opposite corners, with the gunman peaking out to give counterfire every few seconds. One of his men was shot down, but the rest continued their lead-driven assault into the corners, trying to drive them out. Unfortunately, ammo eventually ran out, and as Garas and his men quickly reloaded, the masked man pulled out a large axe and chopped into one of his men's skull, using the momentum to quickly pull out his knife and stab into the chest of another, effectively killing them both in a matter of seconds. The hooded man immediately poked out and fired four bullets, three connecting with the final goons straight in the head.

Garas quickly dodged the bullet and pulled out a switchblade, charging for the masked man, hoping to finish at least one of the intruders. He barely got close, as the masked man used two hands to heave his axe over his head and send it straight downwards through Garas's skull.

'Who the hell could kill every single one of my men?!' the suited boss panicked. 'This is imposible! The only people who could've hired hitmen of this calibur would be...'

"No! Not them!" he cried, watching the men walk down the hall, going towards the elavator. "Anyone but them!"

Could they be... Medicis? Are these men Medicis? He couldn't be sure, and he sure as hell wasn't betting on it. He scrambled through his drawers to find his trump card. He wasn't fond of dirtying his hands with simple killings under normal circumstances, but he knew how to fire a gun if something were to happen, and now seemed as good a time as any to use his Luger and hope he can live another day. He held his weapon and kept his hand near his waist, hoping to surprise the fools when they walked in the room.

Suddenly, the door was blown off its hinges, stunning him and causing him to drop the gun. He was about to crawl and retrieve the weapon when the smoke revealed the frightening image of the angry hooded man, gripping his gun with tight knuckles.

"We warned you," he seethed. "We warned you not to fuck with the girls."

What the hell was he talking about? The trafficking ring around the Canopy Kingdom was nearly completely run by the Medicis, and the small one he had was in a terrible state at the moment. Perhaps he could have talked his way out of this situation... if he wasn't slowly panicking where he stood from the deadly stare he was getting.

"No! But you totally never did though!" the man stumbled out, losing any semblance of control in seconds. It didn't seem that he would be able to keep his cool long enough to talk his way out of this. The gunman took a step forward.

Playtime was over, it seemed. The crime lord quickly lunged down and grabbed his Luger, aiming it at the man's head. "Don't come any closer!" he yelled, trying to steady himself for what was to come. "It's not even-"

Suddenly, he felt something cold in his back. The pain was immediate, and he looked down at his chest as he dropped the gun again, it somehow becoming too heavy for his hands to hold. He immediately saw a point of something sticking out from his chest, covered in his and what was most likely many of his mens' blood. The most he could do at this point was slowly turn his head to look behind him. Standing there was the man in the skull mask, pushing his knife straight through his chest. He could only voice a gargle and a grunt as he fell over, clutching his chest.

It was over. His reign of crime, decades in the making, gone in an instant. He could only lay and imagine what the Three Godesses would do to him. He imagined it would be a fate worse than the darkness of the Skull Heart. That last thought made him grimace as he said the last things on his mind...

"Skull...girls..."

And with that, he laid dead.

The gunman and masked man stood next to each other, covered in blood with victory on their faces.

"Murda Musik!" the gunman said, smirking to himself.

...

The masked man turned to his partner, a confused brow carved in his mask. "What?"

"Murda...musik, man, " the gunman stuttered. "Y'know, hype shit."

He scoffed. "So we just fought an entire gang of tugs up a 10-story building and killed a literal kingpin, and that's your one-liner?" the bloody suit-wearing man questioned.

"Fuck you, dude. If some badass jazz started to play, then you'd totally be behind it." he defended.

The knife wielder thought for a second and simply shrugged. "I guess I can't argue with that." He then turned to his partner. "Yo Woolz, can we go down the elevator this time?"

"Only if you don't hit all the buttons on the way down."

The masked man smirked. "You ask too much of me."


Holy shit, you made it! Good on you.

If you couldn't figure it out, this will be a crossover (kinda?) of the SBFP and Skullgirls. However, Matt and Woolie are in the game (not to mention there is about 1-2 TBFP stories here), so I wouldn't really count it as one. This little story is inspired by the intro card of Friday Night Fisticuffs: Skullgirls, so if you want a visual of this chapter and an explanation on why some of the lines seem a little... weird, direct your attention there while I cry into a tub of ice cream.

Speaking of crippling depression, if you have any questions, comments, tips, tricks, or catcalls, hit them at me. I'm going kinda mental, considering this my first story posted on the site, so don't worry about me not replying (cue to me constantly hitting refresh on comments, cradling a box of Fruity Pebbles like a baby).

I can say that I'm pretty sure I'll have at least a chapter a month, so content is coming down the pipeline constantly.

Also, I like to toss around a few references and weird facts around, so internet cookies to anyone who catches these silent nods. I'll mention any references you guys catch on the AN next chapter, folks, so keep a keen eye.

Fact for this chapter: I'm posting this specifically today to celebrate the 6 year anniversary of the reposting of TBFP: Kirby's Epic Yarn. It's been quite a while hasn't it? Do you feel old yet?

If you're still here, thanks for listening to my nervous ramblings. I'll see you next chapter!