Kamen 22
Chapter 1
The colorful flashing lights and clinking of the arcade and casino games in the Devil Bats clubroom seemed nonexistent as the room was at a stand still. All the star players, including the 'hugo-ing' apprentice and the fucking manager, aligned side-by-side, each member of the lot dawning a look of shock or vacancy; except the devil's spawn, the ringleader, the captain of the Deimon Devil Bats, Hiruma Youichi; his booming laughter quaking walls as it resonated.
"And what are you laughing at!?" the apparent cause of the laughter questioned dangerously, throwing its hands into the air exasperatedly.
Hiruma pulled out a machine gun, from only god knows where, locking on his target, preparing for a clean shot. "Because no fucking bitches are joining my team, you moronic bitch!" he cackled, wrapping his pale, rawboned finger snuggly around the trigger. "You've until the count of five to get out of sight before I light up your ass, bitch." Said 'bitch', as the demonic blond would put it, stood unresponsive. Hiruma glowered at the defiance displayed by that fucking bitch, but proceeded to count anyway.
"One…" he hissed, and in doing so, brought his surround teammates out of their stupor. Realizing the situation, there was a wave of panic.
"Hiruma-baka! STOP!"
"Ya can't do this, Senpai!"
"… Two…"
"Hiruma-san!"
"Hiruma!"
The quarterback gritted his teeth. Those fucking brats were starting to get on this nerves with all this "Hiruma! Hiruma! Hiruma!". "You fucking brats aren't swaying my decision in the least bit. Besides, it's this Bitch's choice not to heed my warning." He growled over the pandemonium. "Now, shut the shit up or I'll shove a grenade down your throats!" Everyone visibly stiffened, including the fucking manager. There's no way you can fight a grenade with a broom or mop. Even a vacuum couldn't withstand such an onslaught of explosive power.
Once silencing those brats, Hiruma turned back to his target, who still seem unaffected by such a threat. Hiruma grunted out another number. "…Three…"
No budge.
"…Four…"
In a last, desperate, and probably futile attempt to save the fellow "bitch", Mamori rose to her feet and cried out, grabbing the Captain by the wrist in hopes he'd drop the firearm. But alas, like anyone could predict, such meager attempts were futile.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT! Bullets were rapidly fired, cracking and flashing. Some seldom ricocheted against slot machines, lockers, and pachinko machines. The others, wanting protect their own lives, took refuge under the pool/meeting table. Mamori instinctly reached out towards Sena, hugging him to her blazer covered bosom protectively. Just because she couldn't save the sinister blond's victim doesn't mean she could save her little Sena-kun.
The mixed-breed manager roared over the ear-shattering noise. "HIRUMA-KUN! ARE YOU CRAZY!?"
The demonic captain cackled imperiously. "YES I AM, FUCKING MANAGER!" He attempted to kick away the motherly brunette that was inching closer to him. Shit, setting off his guns always excited him. He'll be damned if he let the fucking manager get in his way.
With that last thought, much to Hiruma's dismay, he had completely exhausted the loaded bullets of his firearm, rings of smoke and gunpowder dissipating gradually. He wiped the thin layer perspiration from his brow, lowering his weapon. "Tee hee. That was fun."
Monta's was suddenly enraged by his senpai's mocking giggles, and that he just shot down a fellow first-year, but first and foremost, a girl!
"Ya ruthful bastard!" the furious wide receiver jumped on the table, yanking the collar of the once giggling demon. Hiruma was annoyed by this, but didn't take the faulty grammared monkey seriously. "Ya killed Yuushisami-sa-eh?"
The last of the smoke cleared to reveal the absents of a bloody corpse belonging to this Yuushisami person. In fact, the was nothing except damaged and redamaged property.
The others were speechless as there nearly stopped hearts flooded with content. The only semi-intelligent thing Monta could stammer was, "S-she invaded it!", which was obvious, if you correct his bad speech with 'evade' instead of 'invade'. This was Monta after all. Blunt statements like these were only of semi-intelligent level.
But that was Monta, and Monta only. Hiruma, on the other hand, wanted to backslap the fucking monkey for his idiocy, and the fact that he was still clawing his collared shirt. "No shit she moved! Now get the fuck off, fucking monkey!" Hiruma was even more peeved that he missed his target. He NEVER misses, so this was a bit of an ego shocker for him.
"Wow, she's fast…" the mock secretary commented to himself, however, the jolly giant lineman overheard his musings.
"Yeah! Almost like you Se-mmph!" Hiruma deftly slapped a hand over Kurita's equally giant mouth. "Fucking Fatass. Learn to control your tongue." He sneered as the chestnut-headed lineman tensed when he realized the error of his way.
"I-In any case, we should find Yuushisami-san! M-make sure she isn't hurt or anything!" Sena interjected, changing the subject to keep Mamori's suspicions at bay. The others agreed soundly, rising from their places at the pool/meeting table to search for said Yuushisami-san. All save for the captain, of course.
"No bitches are joining my team." Hiruma grumbled indignantly to himself. He threw his legs atop the table, crossed, and unwrapped the foil paper off a fresh stick of his own devil bat logoed gum. His sharp fangs chomped mercilessly on the innocent gum, letting out some steam. He reached under the table, pulling out a shotgun from a hidden compartment. Best to stay on guard with this crazed bitch on the loose.
A few seconds later, the feminist manager popped back into the room. "And why is that?!" she huffed. "I don't remember that being specified anywhere!"
Hiruma didn't even think the fucking manager caught that one. He could have sworn he made that comment forever ago. "Shut up fucking manager." He barked back. Hiruma has power. With a scribble of a pen and the threatening of a certain wussy principal, he could have his rule become an official rule. For once, Mamori decided to end the confrontation at that instead of engaging in the usual battle of broom versus bullets, leaving the disarrayed room to return to the others, muttering something out the side of her mouth about 'bad influences on Sena'.
Hiruma seethed as he awaited for the brats to finish there dumb search. The idea of a girl on the team? He simply detested it! A female on the team would make the Devil Bats seem like desperate losers! (even though he sorely admitted that was once true before all the permanent new recruits.) How were they suppose to intimidate the other teams with a sensitive, prissy ball of fluff!? A girl on the team would seriously hurt their threat factor, not to mention the reputation Hiruma worked and connived so hard to build.
The Devil Bats' captain heaved a sigh. 'Let the fucking brats humor themselves.' He thought bitterly. 'I can turn down any propositions they conjure up later….' He stretched an arm out for his laptop. Finding he couldn't easily reach the briefcase that was a ways down the table he shifted his seating, using the length of his arm and torso to extend his reach when an oddly cold and sharp wedge pressed against his Adam's Apple. A single bead of sweat trailed down his temple as an unnerving smirk played on his lips.
"Damn, you're good." He gritted out, annoyed with himself for getting lost in thought.
"I'm glad you think so, Hiruma-sama." A voice purred lowly in his ear. Had he really gotten that lost in his thoughts to lower his guard THIS much! He didn't even notice he presence in the least bit!
The blond gulped silently at the sharp wedge pressed somewhat gently against his throat. "It's a switchblade, isn't it?" he questioned his captor, half amused.
Said captor squealed in delight. "Ooo! Very Good!" the voice cooed girlishly, tapping the weapon shy of his throat against the bottom of his jaw. He already knew who his captor was. God, this bitch was deranged.
He popped a bubble of his now tasteless gum. "Hey fucking brats. I'm a hostage." He droned loudly, sure that the others didn't leave the vicinity.
They all came bustling in, not really worried about their captain's safety, but just wanting to see if this embodiment of evil was really at the mercy of someone possibly more evil. They really didn't believe the notorious bullshitter, but when they saw exactly what was going on, they sort of gasped from shock and slight amusement.
"Eh? When did Yuushisami-san get in here?" Monta blurted out in befuddlement. "We search the whole clubroom!"
She rested her head atop the demonic captain's spiky blond mop. Hiruma let out a small growl of detest. "I never left the room."
They a nodded in agreement. A logical explanation… then it dawned on them.
"EHHH?!"
She pointed a single finger to the ceiling. "I would have gotten shot if I took the time to open the door." She chirped. Everyone, including Hiruma (as best as he could) craned their necks back, gazing at the ceiling, but not really sure what to look for. All they saw was the usual ruin.
Hiruma looked once more, chuckling to himself upon noticing the difference. "Ke ke ke… footprints…"
There was a round of gasps at Hiruma's observation. Surely the bullshitter jest? Right? Eyes locked on Yuushisami for conformation, but she simply beamed a smile. They looked to the ceiling again…
"Oh my god! They're really there!"
"Fast!"
"Spiderman-MAX!"
"Hirumaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" the large lineman bellowed happily. "let her join the teeeeeeeeam!"
"Yeah, yeah!" she petted the blond like her little pet wrapped around her finger. "Pleeeease?"
"Fuck no." Hiruma spat. She huffed, tapping the bladed instrument against his bottom jaw once more.
"Remember who has the upper hand."
Hiruma scoffed haughtily. "Not like you'd kill me." he smirked broadly, waving his book of threats, the devil's handbook, before everyone as if making a statement. Yuushisami just looked at the leather-bound notebook ignorantly. Instead she chose to ignore it. Why worry about something you have no knowledge of?
Her eyes narrowed to sinister slits of amusement. "Of course not." she responded, her voice sounding like lethal velvet. Her bluntness added to the piling killer intent that threatened to suffocate everyone in the room (the resounding gulps of needed oxygen affirming that.). She pressed the switchblade to his throat once more, this time breaking flesh. "Maybe I'll carve you up nicely and drink your spilled blood ravenously…" she made a quick flick of her tongue across the open wound on Hiruma's neck. "Ne, Hiruma-sama?" her voice grew grimmer, if possible.
Another round of gulps filled the room, the others, excluding Mamori, sweating buckets in fear. The captain never actually hurt any of the players (with his guns at least), but the girl… is it possible she was worse than the captain? What a dreadful thought.
Hiruma took mental note of his team's reactions, not to mention his own. The little lump of coal in his chest one may call a heart was beating erratically. Cold chills coursed through his spine and alleged nerves of steel as the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end.
Hiruma was thrilled beyond compare.
And the best tactic in American football was to scare the living shit out of you opponents, right?
"KU KU KU!" his laughter was booming, yet hollow and dry sounding. Some how, Hiruma was a little bemused about this, but he felt like… conducting an experiment. "FUCKING MANAGER! Prepare for a proper interview for the fucking bitch!"
Some how, during all this terror induced tension, the fucking bitch managed to do something even the quarterback couldn't do.
"A-ano, Hiruma-san, b-but Mamori-nee f-fainted."
Yuushisami was a whole new level of evil.