Three years. Three fucking years he was stuck inside this room, constrained to the point that he couldn't even scratched his nose and it wasn't even attached anymore.
Chizome Akaguro was stuck staring at the same four white walls for years and he was getting sick of it. He was sick of the fact that his work was still incomplete while he stood around and rotted while greater criminals who dared to use the guise of heroism to pursue their own selfish ends. He didn't regret what he did and he freely admitted he would do it all again in a heartbeat, because his life alone was worthless compared to breaking away the rot gathering in the core of society. But still he wanted to be able to at least move freely around his cell.
The binds around him weren't tight enough to cut off circulation so he wasn't in danger of losing a limb, yet his physicality was waning, that he was sure of. They allowed him an hour of rec time and it was the only phase of the day where he could try to maintain his strength. Aside from that, the three supervised bathroom breaks and his meal times, it was right back into the harness.
He had valued his sleep above almost anything else since it allowed him to escape the walls and helped to reduce the anxiety for a bit. That was the worst part of it all, the waiting. Everyday made him wonder when his number will be up and they send for him to be hanged. That'd be a sad way to end things, his entire legacy as the hero killer ended at the short part of a rope while the fakes all breathe easy that the only one who challenged them was dead.
Chizome laughed at his own thoughts, as if he'd let it. All he needed was time and then he'd be free to continue the good fight. Then as if to answer him, the entirety of the lights in his room died, leaving him in darkness.
Was this the day? Had they finally decided to do it?
Something wet and cold began to fill up the space, rising up to his head in seconds as the strange liquid threatened to drown him. He could hear shouting on the other side of the cell door and then there was nothing. His body was free of the restraints in the thick soup of non reality he found himself in and it ended just as quick. His lungs gulped in greedy amounts of air when he felt the stuff on his skin.
A hollow of light skimmed overhead as his eyes adjusted. Boxes and crates were all around him with various labels, some in languages he couldn't read. Russian, chinese, arabic, even a few african scripts were piled on top of one another in stacks that threatened to overtake him in stature. Chill flowed as air whistled in from somewhere out of sight, while what sounded like a heater wirled at the far side of the room, glowing red hot, barely made a difference. The floor was concrete made filthy by layers of dust and dirt that dug into his knees and the pain was noticeable, but all that was nothing when he noticed the real issue at hand.
People were watching him, lots of them.
Standing all around him were men and women who stared down at him silently as he darted his head to see them. He stood up, prepared to fight his way out when he stumbled as his muscles couldn't deal with his weight so suddenly. Two figures from behind caught him and helped him up. The two were dressed in various ways similar to him and others that connected more with their peers. Case and point being a sword of some kind and a smiley face badge pinned somewhere on their clothes. There were others who seemed to take inspiration from him and others that looked so outlandish that it was borderline ridiculous, the green dyed hair being one such prominent feature. Yet Chizome found himself drawn most of all to the man his captors were dragging him towards.
Leaning on a metal crate with some russian runes scribbled on the side was a young man who couldn't have been older than twenty five at best. His hair was dyed a heavy green and his eyes were a hazel brown that shined with the energy of a fanatic. A black trench coat was haphazardly worn by him and the butt of a pistol hung partially concealed on his waist along with the hilt of a knife on the other side. The two assisting the Hero Killer stopped abruptly a meter away from the youth and slowly let their charge go as he found the strength to stand on his own.
Agonizingly, he was back to his original height with blood flowing through his underused muscles, a fact that made the stranger grin.
"So you're the legendary Hero Killer, Stain? Thought you'd be taller. Anyway, I assume you are wondering who I am, where you are and what-"
With a flash, Chizome pushed one of his aids over, grabbing the sword off his back and holding it to the man's neck. Weapons were pulled by everyone surrounding the pair, save for the other two who were standing completely still as blood trickled down their supposed leader's neck while the blade teased at his skin.
"What do you want and who are you with?"
The words left the killer's mouth in an even, calm tone that made ice develop in the blood of most who heard it. The young one simply smiled.
"I'll get to that. Not a very talkative guy are you? To save us both some time, let's skip the typical back and forth, but I would also suggest you put that pig sticker down before you get hurt."
Chizome growled at him, digging the edge slightly deeper into his neck. No fear shown in the man's eyes, only mild amusement.
"You know, I always wanted to ask you villain types why some of you fight only with knives and the like, is it because they're cheaper or do you like giving the other guy a chance? Personally, I can understand it, but I prefer using my ace in the hole when I can."
A grunt came from Stain as he felt a massive pain in his chest. He held onto the blade, yet he had to kneel when the pain increased. Was he having a heart attack? The room began to grow darker when he couldn't feel his heartbeat.
"It's my quirk, though I can't for the life of me find a reason to tell you more, just understand that I can really ruin your day if it strikes my fancy and leave it at that. Now as I was sayin' we brought you here to our little shack to discuss a deal that would benefit everyone and as to who I'm with, let's just say they're good samaritans with a strong sense of civil duty."
Blood pumped freely throughout the assassin's body again when the pain stopped. He glared up at the green haired man, but accepted the hand given to him, the sword still clutched in a death grip.
"Tell me what you want and I might consider it."
Again the man smirked as he leaned back into the crate, taking in the sight behind Stain of his comrades holstering weapons aplenty.
"It's rather simple, we want you to go kill heroes that aren't living up to the title and no, before you ask, we don't mean those folks in the tabloides who like to get their kicks in night clubs or booze it up on the weekend. What we need you to take out the real problems, the abusers, the ones who take dirty money, the ones who look the other way because they don't feel like risking their necks. Do that and we'll be happy."
Red eyes narrowed at the ringleader suspiciously.
"Why would any of this bother the likes of you?"
"Because, we have bigger goals in mind and throwing away our cover just to hammer in a few loose nails would be plain stupid. You're already established as a threat so you have nothing to lose by doing it, we do. People depend on us and until we're big enough to actually start doing more than handing out alms, you can do that work for us."
A gleam came off the sword when Chizome raised it up slightly at the man who rolled his eyes, the amusement running dry.
"So I'm a distraction."
"Exactly, but we busted you out and you're free to walk out that door if you want, but I'd take the offer if I were you considering how you don't have a whole lot of friends left."
The wind whistled past them both, bringing a slight cut of cold back into the place. Stain glared at his kidnapper, who in turn had become substantially more irate. Neither of them said a word, silently gauging the other until the older one looked back at the crowd behind him. Each and every one staring back had a sort of determination that only extreme hardship could breed, a quality that lent a fearlessness in the face of pain or death due to the fact that life held little more than suffering unless measures were taken to earn something worth living for.
Teeth shifted atop one another in his jaw as he contemplated the situation, turning back to the leader while he did so.
"What do you hope to achieve with this? Why go through all this trouble when you don't know if it'll even work?"
Again the man answered the killer, this time with a fire burning inside of him that brought a sense of power with it.
"Because I want a better world where people don't have to live in fear of the things that would do evil to them, where they can live dignified, happy lives that give them a reason to smile everyday instead of dreading the very gift of life itself. My goal, our goal is that and that alone, Hero Killer. That's why you're standing in front of us, because out of all the horrible shit you've done, you still believe in what's right and just. We all lived such lives that would be compared to serfs, but one man taught us how to get back what was stolen, that there was another option then licking the boots of our supposed betters and we try to keep his message alive and you are going to help, one way or another."
Chizome nearly flinched at the energy in the man's voice. There was a sensation that overcame the cold when those brown eyes met his red, here was a person that was optimistic for the simple fact that despair had nothing left to take, who believed in the absolution of his actions to the point of willful ignorance. A person that Chizome, with even the limits he went to in the name of his own creed, would consider completely unhinged.
It was some ancient mechanism which made it clear on an unspoken level that this stranger was a threat, that something was wrong. Still, fear had never stopped him before, so why should it now?
"And who was this, that gave you such a vision?"
The man blinked at him, legitimately perplexed by what was asked.
"You honestly don't know? Every scumbag, crooked cop, and fake hero knows who He is. I mean didn't they tell you about all the heroes and villains that, who the hell am I kidding of course they wouldn't."
He inhaled a bit to clear his throat and started.
"He goes by a lot of names, over a thousand if you ask enough people, but we just call him "The Smile Man" since he was the one who wanted us all to have a reason to smile. The long and short of it is that he freed us from being enslaved in one way or another which is why we try to follow his will. A lot like how you were to some folks before you were locked away, only he actually gave us the strength to fight back against the messed up situations we found ourselves in by ousting the goons who ruled over us and telling us that we needed to band together or suffer like we had all over again."
Chizome continued to hold onto his weapon as the view shifted towards a hand stitched flag with a giant red fanged grin inside a golden mouth on a black background that hung to the upper wall in front of him.
"Then why isn't he the one greeting me instead of you? I'd prefer to hear it from the man himself."
Shame bit into the expression of the leader for a moment before he laughed.
"Wouldn't we all. Sorry about that, but nobody knows where he is. Hell, not a single one of us has managed to actually see him more then once and that was when he showed up out of the blue and saved us. Some haven't even seen him, much less talk to him."
"So you're doing this for a person you haven't even spoken to?"
Annoyance played on the man's face when he pointed a finger at the killer.
"You said it yourself that ideals should be admired, not just people and that's what we're doing. He was the first person to ever do anything that really mattered to make things better, so we refused to let his mission or his image die, got a problem with it?"
Against his better judgement, the smallest beginnings of a grin teased at Chizome's lips at the man's response.
"No, just glad some people see the truth for once."
"That means you're willing to join up?"
The grin died without warning as a stone faced stoicism set in.
"Perhaps, you certainly are far more pleasant than the last group that tried recruiting me."
The man raised an eyebrow at the killer.
"Who would that be exactly?"
"The League of Villains."
This time the fanatic did flinch, his body repulsed by the very name.
"I assure you we're nothing like that group of psychos. We just want people to live better lives like I said."
A hand reached out for Stain as he studied his host's reaction.
"Do we have a deal, sir?"
Longer did he stare at that palm, measuring the offer it represented then with a bit of murder in his voice he made a counter offer.
"Under two conditions, first, I'm nobody's lap dog, meaning I go where I want, when I want and secondly I reserve the right to kill any fake at my digression."
Again the man laughed, his voice malicious and sadistic in a tune that fitted well with the killer.
"Sure, I wouldn't have any other way, though I don't think I need to inform you that offing civilians is something we don't tolerate, right?"
Chizome grasped the palm, shaking it firmly as his grim stoicism remained.
"Correct, now tell me where the hell I can get started."
A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in a long, tattered red cloth that had seen it's fair share of use. Inside the fabric shone a blackened slab of steel which was pressed tightly to the person's chest, covering the entirety of their torso. A short bladed machete was visible on the person's hip that bounced with their every step as they approached. The face of the individual was wrapped in a bundle of medical tape, exposing only the eyes and mouth.
"That would be where I come in, sir. I am called Number Three and a rather large supporter of your's. My brothers and sisters have selected me to ask if you would be willing to grace us with an appearance."
The voice coming from the newcomer was female and soft spoken yet with a clear authority which denoted her confidence. Chizome gripped his sword a tad tighter, before the leader of this mess patted him on the back, nearly losing a hand in the process as the Hero Killer reacted to muscle memory.
"Easy now Saki, there's no need for this whole operative one, two stuff. We're all friends here. Anyway Stain, this young lady will be a liaison between you and us. She respects the hell out of you and managed to get a lot of folks to take after your example, so make use of that as you will, but you harm a hair on her head and the deal's off, got it?"
Two others moved to stand behind the woman, they were the same duo who originally helped him in the beginning, their faces were covered as well, this time by blackalvas which concealed only the bottom half in place of the bandages covering their supposed superior. Chizome did not have long to argue as he fell into the shadows below him, drowning him in the stuff of the unseen.
He swam as hands locked around his back, dragging him one way in the void until they emerged somewhere new. Warmth attacked his chill scorned bones without mercy, driving it away with a pleasant intensity while he looked at the room he was in. Concrete surrounded every side, dotted with posters and flags of that same fanged mouth as a mild stink wafted up from nearby. People gathered around them, dressed in ways similar to him when he was free. Twenty he counted as he slowly stood, sword still in hand. Skepticism lined each face while a select few gazed in astonishment. The one known as Number Three moved to address the group when another person pushed through the crowd. This entity was shorter than her by a few inches, knives clung to a harness of belts strapped to the black leather of it's outfit that covered all but the golden pony tail and pitch black eyes.
"Seems that Tojo did it, the crazy bastard. Good on him. Number Three I trust, everything went well?"
The voice coming from the thing was also female, with a much higher pitch then the other. She regarded Stain with a measure of respect, but it was passing as he was overlooked for the three behind him.
"Yes, it went off without an issue, though Number Two will require a new blade."
The gimp nodded, her coal black eyes now centering on the Hero Killer and the sword he had.
"Good, last thing we need is more trips to the medical wing. Now, sir Stain I would like to introduce myself as Number One, the big sister of these runabouts. You've already met Number 3, the two next to her are Number Two and Number Four respectfully. We've heard about your exploits for a while and though we originally weren't following your ideals, that has changed in the past year or so and we'd like to welcome you into the fold to make this world better."
Chizome instantly found himself looking to the immediate right of the woman, at the tallest individual here, the introduction she made falling on deaf ears as the man who easily overtook him by nearly a meter quaked with the visible portions of his face going red. Said man stepped out from the crowd and reached out with a ham sized fist at him. The blade was already descending when the man made his first move, but to the killer's shock, the sword was caught and then yanked from his grasp, skidding across the floor. He was hoisted up the wall by the neck as the giant took something from his tan long coat and jammed it inside Stain's mouth. Upon the sound of a hammer being cocked back, he realised it was a pistol.
"Lier, deceiver, this man is nothing but a false prophet who will lead us astray from His vision. I say we kill him now."
Everyone flinched at the man's violence. His green eyes displaying a fervent disgust as the Hero Killer glared back in equal measure. The woman known as Number One put a hand on the man's arm, or rather attempted to do so as their difference in height made that rather difficult. Others continued to stay motionless in the conflict, though their shock had significantly lowered to the point that more than a few looked ready to intervene.
"Come on now Thirteen, you know-"
The woman stopped when the ire of the man was redirected at her. It was then Chizome noticed something strange about this man, namely the spike collar around his neck.
"I know that this man cared nothing for people like us, that we may as well have never existed while he went on killing for petty reasons as our families starved and were beaten. He isn't a champion of the people, he's a murderer parading his supposed morality while never once lifting a finger in the defence of the downtrodden. This is a false idol who seeks to pervert His work and I shall not allow that to befall anyone who swears to Him."
A hand caressed the man's back as Number One spoke in an even softer tone, bringing a crack to the anger inside him.
"Then allow this newcomer to become accustomed to His message, let him know the chances we have been given and what it means to truly act in His name. Don't take away that choice from him, don't rob him of the chance to smile again."
Whatever the hell this freak was saying seemed to strike a cord in her comrade who loosened his grip on the Hero Killer's neck and gently put him on the ground, with the gun still pointed at his head.
"Very well, I'll allow this, but should he act foolishly towards anyone here, I won't be so forgiving."
He lowered the weapon, holstering it at his belt with the majority of the mob sighing in relief. Chizome almost did the same as the titan marched away, going deeper into places unknown. Number One leaned forward, offering a hand to the criminal and gesturing to the circular halls beyond the room.
"If you would, I'd like to show you around so that everything will be ready come next week."
It was more an order instead of a request as Number Three and her goons corrlaided him after their leader, handing him his fallen sword as they went. Chamber upon chamber they passed in the dark tunnels where light was barely used from the bulbs overhead.
"I apologize for thirteen, he's always been the sort to cling to old ideas. Then again, I suppose you're the same way."
Chizome took this in stride, keeping silent as the lady continued to give her tour of the place. He could see Number Three watching him with a rapt attention, examining every move he made with a disbelief that he even existed. Number Two and Number Four did likewise, but their leather clad leader stole the spotlight when her speech went on.
"We take pride in your arrival despite the less than stellar welcome you received, it'll just take the lads a bit to warm up to you. It's tight knit around here and unfortunately you'll have to earn that trust, but that aside it's your run of the mill type vigilante gig. Patrol neighbourhoods, keep the peace, fight bad guys, you get the idea. Keep in mind that bad guys do have a wide definition so act as you see fit. Any questions so far?"
Instantly his eyes were drawn to the suit the woman was dressed in. He hesitated, fearing that he was about to insult her when she answered for him.
"I wear it because I like the feel of it on my skin and most people don't want to fight someone dressed like this, now do you have any more questions that aren't about my appearance?"
He considered the thought and found a far more appropriate thing to ask as they walked towards a large room containing maps of all the sewer lines in the nation stapled next to the pictures of heroes, villains and random civilians, who had some kind of crime labeled above their name.
"What exactly do I need to know so I can get back to doing my job?"
The blonde smiled at him, revealing a horrifying jaw filled to the brim with jagged, pointed teeth.
"Nothing that you haven't already been told, though I assume you'd like to know we do have better weapons then swords and knives."
He raised an eyebrow at her as she opened a crate and removed a rather large rifle from the container.
"It's old Soviet tech from way back in the day that we bought from some overseas seller. They ain't the prettiest but they can do the job, as long as you tend to them of course."
The Hero killer examined the rifle with his eyes, taking in every bit of rusted metal and cracked wood on it. With a definite shake of his head he tapped the blade in his hand.
"Thank you, but I prefer the old fashioned way. Gives a lot more meaning behind what I do, effort is the most direct way of showing commitment after all."
Number One set the rifle aside onto the crate as she reached for a pamphlet stuck to the wall. It contained information about a certain hero who apparently had an abusive streak a mile long and it had every bit of information someone could ask for. Chizome read through the information, allowing his anger to spread with each act recorded against this fake. With a cracking of his knuckles he turned to stroll out to do his work, the papers falling to the floor as he moved. Number Three followed after him with her followers doing the same.
It hadn't taken them long to prepare for the hunt, weapons were oiled and armor adorned with a practiced ritualism that made the leader of this sect proud. She watched silently as the four of them departed to the world above, her hand moving to grasp at the pendent tucked under her suit. It was purple stone given to her by her mother before she could remember and with it she prayed. She prayed for their safe return, for the success of their mission and that the man who gave them a chance to smile would return one day.
Then once that was complete she crossed off a name from the list on the wall. Number One couldn't help but consider how quickly this would shrink, about how many people would be helped by having these animals gone. It brought another grin to her face, the toll was sure to be steep for the bastards of the world and they made it happen.
The Hero Killer was back and she loved it.
