-Club Origin, South Town Outskirts-
The two burly security guards standing out back of the building-making sure no derelicts try to sneak in, unless they had some 'trading materials' on hand, of course-were taking turns scanning the battered parking lot, which was completely empty. The one on the right, with scruffy, brown hair, lit a smoke and sighed.
"Fucking boring," he muttered.
"Surprised more assholes aren't tryin' to get in." He looked over. "Hey, gimme one of those."
"Get your own."
"Fuck off. Gimme one."
Grunting, the other man shoved a cigarette at the other guard and lit it as they scanned the parking lot. They were a little irritated, since mostly they padded their wallets with bribe money from people trying to get in the back, mostly to do whatever dubiously legal, if not outright illegal, stuff from the back of the club. A couple had come by tonight, but not as many. One didn't have much in the way of anything, so he staggered off, looking for a fix somewhere else.
"Anything good in there tonight?"
"The usual. Probably somethin' good later. Will go check on break and let you know."
"Pfft. Doubt boss is gonna pay any attention."
"Never know."
The blonde guard took a drag of his smoke, looking out across the derelict parking lot. Squinting in the dark, he saw a man walking up, somewhat slowly and inexorably. Seeing his hair whipping about his head-and wearing a pair of torn jeans tucked into a pair of heavy, lace up black boots...also topped with what amounted to a sleeveless, long jacket in the chilly autumn night, he cocked his head to the side.
"Think we got a live one here, Zac." The man was clearly not affected by the chilly air to have a sleeveless coat on.
"Eh? What the fuck's this guy on?"
"Dunno, don't care. If he can grease our palms, he's in."
As the two watched him approach-the music blaring very loudly from inside-they looked at each other, a slightly confused expression appearing on their faces.
"Hey. Front door is that way," the brown-haired one said.
Jhun continued walking forward, silently staring at them as he finally reached them. He stopped about ten feet away, unmoving. For some reason, he had a chain holding his arm behind his back; it clanked softly in the wind as he stood. The other end seemed to be around the other end of his free arm, and seemed able to still move.
"You're one of the people that want the back-room goods, then?"
Nothing.
The blonde looked over, rubbing his neck, somewhat confused. The two of them were maybe an inch or two taller than the white-haired man, though not as heavily built.
"You know the deal, then?"
Still nothing.
"What's with the chains?" he said.
Staring.
"Okay, if you're gonna just waste our time, get the fuck out."
Jhun took a step forward, still saying nothing. He felt like he had nothing to say. He started to move toward the door, as if the other two men were not even there, as his business was inside.
"Hey!" the brown-haired guard yelled. "The fuck you think you're doing?" He grabbed Jhun's shoulder and tried to yank him toward him, surprised at the resistance the man put up.
As he saw the look in the white haired man's eyes-his hair blowing about his head-he took a step back, majorly unsettled.
"Look, ju-"
The guard at the side was swiftly covered in a spray of blood, bone, and brain as the creepy man lashed out with his leg in several high-kicks to the guards head, obliterating it on the spot. Each blow's sound became more sickening, until the last one finally splattered it, causing the man to drop.
The other guard, looking at the blood all over himself, screamed, staring at them, until he was silenced by the man literally slicing him in two with a backflip kick; his legs seemingly able to almost summon a cutting aura on them from...something. Chi, perhaps.
Not that it mattered, as the result was the same; the two halves dropped to the ground, leaking contents everywhere.
Turning toward the door, Jhun let himself inside, trailing blood behind him.
"C'mon," said the punk in the corner of the somewhat darkly-it room in the back. He was pointing toward the cocaine mirror that his friend had and motioning.
"Man," the friend said. He slid him the mirror as he dumped more of his ill-gotten gains on it. "When's the next hit?" he asked.
"Dunno?"
"Why don't you fuckin' know?" He bent over the mirror, trying to focus.
The other man looked up in a haze, seeing the white-haired man in the sleeveless long jacket...and the chain holding his arm behind his back. The music was loud enough-the beat of the music pounding the floor that it seemed to shake the mirror the other man was using. He uttered a curse, looking up at his buddy, wondering why he was staring into space before looking back down.
Jhun stared into the room, looking around at the man sitting; without another word, he walked up, lifted his leg, and slammed it down on the man's head-who had been bent over the mirror-with an axe kick.
It hit home with a wet crunching noise as the man across from him suddenly ended up with more than a few chunks of bone and brain on him; he started shaking, blood running down his face as he tried to venture what just happened in his simultaneously drugged and terrified state.
Before he could utter a sound, the killer's leg lashed out again, this time simply caving in the side of the other man's head, lifting him from the chair from the force and slamming him against the wall with a splat.
No one had even come in yet, as the music was far too loud to hear what was going on in the back room. Turning, Jhun walked out and decided to see what else was going on.
The music sort of fired him up somewhat, in fact. Maybe it was the driving, industrial-like beat. He knew there would be a lot of nasty goings on in the club tonight that he ought to put an end to. He sort of remembered music while training, but he remembered nothing about it. This stuff he liked...driving, dangerous.
Wandering down the hall-trailing blood behind him and well spattered, the faint lights sort of showed some on him...though it was hard to tell.
Someone looked strangely at him as he walked down, the blacklight illuminating him in ways that were almost eerie. His white hair almost glowed, though the streaks, smears, and spatters of blood showed up black.
The guy who was making his way down the hall-clearly drunk, stared at him as Jhun walked by; he did not pay him any attention, though he bumped into him accidentally.
"Hey," he said. "Watch where you're fuckin' going."
At that, Jhun span, thrusting his boot into the man's chest against the wall, crushing in his ribcage as the blood-black under the blacklight-spewed from his mouth as he doubled back, kicking his head in against the wall with his other leg, the all too familiar sickening sound covered up by the music.
As he slid down, the remains left behind what seemed to be black paint everywhere, his face blessedly hidden...unless they turned on the lights.
Continuing on, inexorable and without mercy, he turned the corner to see what awaited him.
Another room that looked fairly empty. He decided to take a break here. Sitting on the chair, he simply stared ahead, the driving music having changed into a different song, though similar. He was trying to collect his thoughts; this place, he could sense the stink on it. He wondered how deep it went. He knew it was a crime haven...should he deal with it?
Yes, he should. They were all probably guilty.
Trying to form thoughts in his head for a few more moments, he was interrupted by the door slamming open. Two guys wandered in with beer bottles in their hands, looking at him defiantly.
"Hey. Our room."
He simply stared, sitting.
"Got somethin' on you. What, did ya roll around in paint or some shit?"
Silence.
The man flipped on the regular light...suddenly stepping back.
"Shit, man! What the fu-"
With a bloodcurdling scream, Jhun was on his feet, deftly leaping over the table and coming down with a flying axe kick on the man, splitting his head down the middle-and somewhat into his chest, as well. Before the other could turn and run, he was split in two at the waist with a vicious spinning side-kick; as he fell on the ground in two, his top half was still alive for a few moments...until Jhun stepped on the side of his head, ending that problem with a crunch.
He wondered if there were more who wanted to mess with him. He had just been trying to sit there for a moment.
Hearing a scream from behind him, he turned, seeing several people see him...turn, and run.
He did not pursue.
When he turned the corner, however, there were several people who had decided to see what the hell was going on in the hallway; coming from the side rooms, in various stages of being fucked up in all sorts of ways...when they saw him, they started reaching for knives and bottles, cracking them on the walls to possibly stab him with their jagged edges.
"What the fuck are you?!" one of them yelled, stabbing him in the shoulder with a running charge with the bottle.
Jhun didn't budge, only staring at the injury, and then back at the man. Leaping into the air after a silent moment, he leapt off of his head, smashing his heel down so hard onto it his skull cracked open on the spot, spilling more contents all over the floor as he landed, glaring at the rest. He tightened the chain around his arm, almost taunting them that he did not even need his hands against them all.
And then, he grinned.
"It's your turn."
"Shit. I bought the last one."
"C'mon, Duckie. You did lose that last hand."
"Alright, alright. Hey Bobby, two more of them blue angels!"
"I admit I wouldn't have pegged you two for blue angels, but hey."
"Dunno. Kinda brings a bit of summer in here while it's gettin' all cold out there."
The muscular bartender started mixing them deftly, checking up at the TV every so often; mostly it was just spitting out some confused stuff. A mention of another hit in Second Southtown.
"Jeeze, Duckie-stay away from that place."
"Don't gotta tell me twice. I ain't headin' downtown, either."
"So I guess you guys are regulars, now?" Bob asked, sliding the drinks to them as Duck slid him a tip which he pocketed with a nod.
"Guess so." Billy picked up his drink. "Cheers, then?"
The two clanked drinks as the rest of the Pao Pao Cafe began to fill up with regulars.
Club Origin was now in complete, gore-soaked chaos.
Corpse after corpse flew; sometimes killed instantly, other times a few hits doing them in. The murderous fighter mostly aimed for the head, so often, they didn't know what even hit them...though everyone around them did.
Kicking through one's chest and removing his head as he fell over with a second blow, he continued walking, brutally killing anyone still alive on the ground under his heel quickly...whether they were injured, twitching in death, or just laying low, trying to escape.
At this point, the remainders had run for their lives; the club was not a large one, and it did not take him long to plow through it. To be sure, it was a pretty terrible establishment, though a few stragglers were probably killed in his rampage.
He didn't really care about anyone who made it out. It wasn't like he was worried about the authorities.
As he kicked in the face of a kneeling attacker-this one had actually tried to pull a gun out that he had snuck in-the remains splattered underneath a nearby table, where he heard a sound. Walking slowly over to lift it up-the music still going, as the DJ had fled for their lives-there were two teens there-perhaps in high school-that stared up at him.
He turned and left them, uninterested. Wandering out-past three other mangled guards-he stood in front of the horrorshow, satisfied that he had cleaned out the place well enough.
Deciding to wander toward the bay for awhile, he thought about his next move. There was a lot to do here, still, it would seem…
After he had traveled a few blocks unmolested, a man turned the corner; he had heard news of some sort of ruckus at a club, and had decided to check it out. He knew he ought to wait for his partner, as he was his senior, but he figured it couldn't hurt.
Jhun noticed the man, planning to pay him no mind; he was nondescript, with short-cropped brown hair and seemed to have the countenance of a security guard or even an officer.
When the man noticed him from afar-he didn't see the blood yet-he thought the fact he had his arm chained behind his back-as well as in front-was odd, but he figured he may have been one of those strange clubbers.
That said, Club Origin was a hotbed of crime, so maybe questioning this man wouldn't be a bad idea, he thought. It was one of those places that, thanks to some of the department getting paid off, they never got a chance to really shut down, but he'd do what he could to perhaps keep it straight.
"Hey," he said. "Excuse me."
Nothing. He kept walking.
"Excuse me. South Town PD." He flashed his badge.
Jhun looked at him slowly, his eyes narrowing, as he stopped.
When the officer saw him, he stumbled back, struggling to pull out his radio, hoping he could get it fast enough.
The last thing he saw was the crazed man flying at him in a ferocious flying kick, accompanied by a blood-curdling yell.
A/N: Club Origin isn't real in that world-just a little no-name club made up for the story, since I'm sure Southtown has a lot.