Gran Torino and The Wolverine: p.2
Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi
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Gran's life went on after his brief meeting with the Wolverine. He'd go out on patrol—avoiding the increasing number of reporters wanting to bother every Pro for some inane interview. He'd stop criminals—running the gamut from punk kids with nothing better to do to monsters with no regard for human life. He'd talk with Toshinori over the phone—if his mood lifted when he heard the brat's voice, that was his little secret. And he'd slowly, but surely, dismantle All for One's criminal empire.
Not to say that he'd just forgotten about the vigilante. He wasn't a part of the quiet, if urgent, investigation into the Canadian, but he kept up with it through rumors and hearsay. It was honestly impressive, how quickly the man bounced from place to place up-and-down Japan. Though the amount of people he killed per…excursion…was starting to lessen—Gran supposed word got out that he was only targeting a people with a connection to his fiancé's death, and anyone with a brain was quick to let him on his way.
It made his job a lot easier. And harder. Certainly, several clans Gran had been tracking down were permanently disbanded for one reason or another, but that just meant the remaining ones were growing increasingly paranoid, forcing his investigations to a snail's pace.
Which meant he was mainly doing grunt work—zipping from location to location and cracking skulls to pry information from loose lips. It wasn't particularly productive, but he was mature enough to admit that he enjoyed beating down the scum that was the Yakuza.
But, because he couldn't ever have too much of a good thing, it had to end someday.
The day started routinely enough, with Gran rocketing around the docks a sunset, performing the latest in a long series of stakeouts. But then he felt his hairs rise, and jerked back, a brick sailing through the air, missing his shin by scant centimeters.
Gran glared down at the ground, mood further souring upon spying a familiar shape hiding beneath a bulky coat, a half-finished cigar hanging loosely in his mouth.
He zoomed down onto the ground, landing in front of the Wolverine. He looked the same as when Gran last saw him—struggling under the weight of his grief.
"The fuck do you want?" Gran snarled.
The Wolverine smirked, a bit of his melancholy fading, as he said, "Wondering which one of these warehouses you were going to hit—the one with the drugs, the counterfeit clothes, or the guns?"
Gran's eye twitched. "…The clothes." The Wolverine's smirk made him groan. "Ugh, really?"
"It's a shockingly lucrative business." The Wolverine chuckled wearily. "The one part of the 'family business' that Mariko was allowed to work on."
Gran shifted in place as the Wolverine shrank in on himself. "I'm sorry," Gran said, making the man arch a brow. "About Yashida. I didn't say it before—it's terrible what happened, and you have my sympathies."
The Wolverine grunted, eyes losing a bit of their focus. "Thanks," he said with a sigh. They stood in silence for a moment, before he said, "Who are you after?"
Gran eyed the Wolverine. "…Kano Tokia."
The Wolverine arched a brow. "I thought the Urata family was in charge of this part of town?"
"They are," Gran replied, not wanting to get into how the Wolverine knew that. "But the Kano family bankrolls everything—it's that clan that I want to nail to the floor."
"To get All for One, right?"
Gran was on the Wolverine in a second, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him against a wall—he was unbelievably heavy, as if his bones were made of metal. Gran was positive the vigilante never moved unless he wanted to.
Gran's voice dropped to a harsh snarl. "How do you know about him?"
The Wolverine spat out his cigar, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "You pick up a thing or two, hanging out with the wrong crowds."
"Don't remind me."
"Plus"—the Wolverine continued—"it makes the most sense, considering what you've done." At Gran's sneer, he elaborated. "You pick off a lot of the small fry but leave the bigger clans mostly intact. If you were really looking to end the Yakuza, you'd go after them while they are fighting each other for scraps." The Wolverine's grin returned. "But you don't, because you benefit more from the chaos and strife they cause themselves and others—one specific other."
Gran couldn't help the chuckle that burst past his lips. "Shit. Am I that easy to figure out?"
"Maybe." The Wolverine shrugged. "But I'm not involved with their petty power grabs. Can afford a little perspective. In any case, I couldn't give a shit about All for One."
Gran scoffed, releasing his grip on the Wolverine. "Really? The man who practically runs Japan's underground—the Yakuza included—and you don't care about him."
"I only care about Harada Ken'ichiro and Harada Shingen," the Wolverine growled.
"Harada Shingen?" Gran parroted. "He had a hand in his own daughter's death?"
"Of course he did! Ken'ichiro couldn't crawl his way out of a paper bag," the Wolverine spat, eyes blazing with fury. "No way he planned…" The Wolverine's face slackened, eyes glossing over. Gran gave him a moment to compose himself.
The Wolverine shook himself violently, like a dog. "Anyway, yeah." He held out his hands, his six metal claws popping out in an instant and gleaming in the setting sun. But he held none of his previous rage. "I'm skewering both of them. And anyone else involved in their scheme."
Gran tilted his head towards the warehouse. "So, who're you planning on skewering in there?"
"No one, actually." The Wolverine shrugged, gesturing to his left. "My target's in charge of running the guns from these docks."
Gran hummed. "Lucky me, I guess."
"Yup."
"I'd still prefer it if you didn't tear through everyone like a blender."
The Wolverine arched a brow.
"Since I'm the only Pro around at this time, whatever mess you make would land on my lap." Gran shuddered. "Just thinking about all the extra paperwork that would bring makes my hair stand on edge."
The vigilante laughed. "Paperwork? This country really knows how to suck the fun out of things."
Gran would never admit it, but the man wasn't entirely wrong. Hell, half the reason he applied to become a Pro was the ability to use his Quirk in public without the risk of being fined or arrested. The other half was the ability to beat up noisy assholes without any real fuss.
He hoped Toshinori was enjoying his lack of oversight while he still had it—as soon as the brat was back, Gran was going to lock him up in a room and dump all his backlog on him.
"Anyway"—Gran crossed his arms over his chest—"I can't let you do anything illegal while I'm busting up the clothing ring." The Wolverine growled, his face twisting into a scowl. "So, you'll just have to wait until after I'm done."
The Wolverine blinked. "Wha—you sure?" Gran nodded. "Cause knowing me, I'm not just going to kill the person I'm gunning for."
He probably wouldn't. But Gran, though proud and sure of his own skills, knew that he wouldn't be able to stop the Wolverine even if he tried. Forget the Vigilante's skills and durability; he was so determined to see his revenge come to fruition that even a demon would balk in his presence.
Gran would be a fool to try and put a stop to it. But he could at least delay it.
"Once I've cleaned up that particular warehouse, it's not really any of my business what happens in these docks."
"…Aren't you a cop?"
"Not really." It was only recently that Pros stopped criminals like he and Nana had been doing on their own time, and a lot of the rules still needed to be ironed out. But until that time, Gran would push against the boundaries as much as he could.
As long as it didn't leave him with too much paperwork.
The Wolverine snorted. "Whatever. Could use a nap." He sat down against the wall, shooing Gran away.
Gran rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and zoomed up into the air.
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Gran grimaced as he stared at the innards of the electrical box he'd torn open. It looked old, and worse, barely maintained. He'd as soon electrocute himself as shut off the power. But he had to do it. No telling what kind of abilities the thugs inside had, and it would be better for him if he could leave them panicking in the dark long enough for him to get what he wanted and run.
Yet, just as he braced himself to simply rip out the aged wires, luck smiled upon him.
The door to his right burst open, a thug stumbling out and a thug stumbled out. He fiddled with his zipper, cursing a bit before finally getting it open. He relieved himself, oblivious to his surroundings.
Gran waited until the man zipped himself back up before dashing over and threw him against the electrical box. He averted his gaze as sparks flew everywhere, the thug letting loose a long, shrill cry. The power cut out and the building darkened as the thug fell into a smoking heap. Sparing the barest moment to see if the thug was still breathing—he was—Gran crept into the warehouse.
Taking a deep breath, Gran rocketed to the roof, grabbing onto the metal rafters. Already a few of the thugs were lighting up their surrounding—most by summoning fire from various parts of their bodies, but a couple were telekinetically waving around flashlights, and one's hair glowed like a lightbulb—scanning their areas for intruders. But no one ever looked up.
He leapt across the rafters, heading towards the main office. Gran could see his target's silhouette through a window. Kano Tokia. He bent over a flickering lamp, yelling at a couple goons as he smacked the lamp to keep the bulb lit. The thugs scrambled out of the room, the door practically coming off its hinges as they fled down the stairs.
When Kano got up to close the door, Gran rocketed down, grabbing Kano's face and slamming it into the ground. Gran shoved Kano away, shutting the door behind him. Kano let out a groan, shifting from the floor. Gran held his left foot out in front of his face, letting loose a long blast of carbon dioxide. Kano made a choking gasp and fell unconscious.
After handcuffing and gagging Kano, Gran started ransacking the office. He didn't find anything world-shattering like All for One's favorite haunts or the names of every Pro-Hero on the take. But he did find shipping routes to mainland Asia, and the front companies used to handle their merchandise, so Gran considered the day a win.
Gran stuffed the documents in his belt. He hoisted Kano over his shoulder, pressing his ear against the door. No one was outside. Rolling his shoulders, Gran snuck through the door and zoomed into the air in a flash.
So fast that he almost didn't hear the two men coming up the stairs.
Gran pressed himself against a rafter, staring down at the two men below. "I'm telling you," the taller of the two said, "I heard something weird."
The shorter one huffed. "And I'm telling you that there's no way whoever knocked out the lights could be here already. We've got guys combing every inch of the warehouse. We'll find him."
"Still…" The tall thug turned to the office door. "I think we should check on the boss."
"Kano's already pissed; you really want to barge into his office when we haven't found the trespasser?"
The tall thug walked to the door. "If Kano's been taken out, we've got bigger things to worry about."
Gran cursed beneath his breath. If he were alone, he could just crash through one of the windows and be long gone. But he had a passenger with him; on top of being forced to slow down, he couldn't risk Kano getting terribly injured.
He set Kano against the rafters, looping his arms around one of them for extra support. Gran shot down just as the tall thug reached the door, slamming his head against the handle, knocking him out cold.
The shorter thug barely had time to react before Gran was on him, wrestling him to the ground and putting him in a chokehold. The thug struggled with all his might—he elbowed Gran in the ribs, tried to reach up and claw his face—but he couldn't escape from Gran's grip. Gran thanked his lucky stars the thug didn't have any kind of physical mutation.
But he realized he was too thankful, because he felt a sudden increase in heat emanating from the man's face. He barely looked down before seeing the man's eyes covered in bright orange flames.
Seconds later, a pair of fireballs soared through the air, crashing against the ceiling.
"Of all the fucking things." Gran growled, rolling around and slamming the thug's head against the ground. "So much for the soft touch." Now he really couldn't just bust out without risking Kano getting seriously injured.
A crowd was gathering at the base of the stairs, a stream of thugs running up. Gran rammed into the one at the top of the stairs, bowling the rest over, smirking when they crashed onto the bottom floor.
The ensuing chaotic mass of limbs and bodies was Gran's bread and butter. He wove between wild hooks, terrified jabs, and the occasional searing fireball, throwing thugs into each other, breaking bones under rocket-powered heels. They scrambled like trying not to be burned by a magnifying glass.
Gran slammed one thug into the ground, flipping into the air and rocketing to a wall. He braced against it and bounced back into the fray. He rammed two goons into a storage container, flew up to the ceiling, swung around the rafters, and dove onto the back of another, slamming him into the ground, and starting the process over again.
God, how he loved the rush. The adrenaline pumping through his veins. The skin on his knuckles scratching and tearing underneath his gloves. The fear in his enemies' eyes when it finally sunk in just how utterly screwed they were.
But all good things had to end. There were three thugs left, and one of them shoved his hands up in the air. In a flash of light, a translucent pink barrier cut Gran off from the roof. He slammed shoulder first into the barrier, cursing as he righted himself in the air.
Gran glared down at the goons. The one who made the barrier still had his hands up, arms shaking—so Gran could count him out for the time being. The other two at least looked menacing. The shorter of the pair's left arm had transformed into a steel ax, and the taller one took up a boxing pose, blue electricity arcing between his arms.
Gran smiled viciously; at least these guys could say they went down fighting. Gran zoomed down to the ground. He released a large blast of air from his feet just before he hit the ground, kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust and debris. The thugs all covered their faces, sealing their dooms.
Gran rushed towards the boxer first, ducking down and slamming a rocket-powered knee into his jaw. The thug rose a good ten feet into the air before landed in a heap. The axman had recovered by then, taking a wild swing in Gran's direction. Gran easily sidestepped the attack, grabbing onto the arm-ax and flipping the man over his shoulder. Gran lifted his right foot, delivering two swift, brutal stomps; one t- the man's transformed elbow, the other to his left knee. He didn't pass out but didn't let out anything louder than a pained whimper after his initial earsplitting screeches of pain.
Gran turned to the final thug, who was pale, shaking, and had broken out into a cold sweat. Gran smirked, gesturing for him to turn around. He did, and Gran wasted no time in rocketing forward, slamming him nose first into a storage container. He fell down to the ground without a sound.
Gran took a moment to admire his handiwork. A bit louder than how he wanted to do things. And if he wasn't at the top of the Yakuza's shitlist before, he was now. But that wasn't really a problem at this stage of his plans. Even if they were able to figure out his identity, he never stayed in one place for too long.
And there was absolutely nothing officially connecting him to Toshinori anymore, so there was nothing to fear there either.
Gran rolled his shoulders, staring up at the rafters. Kano was still up there, sleeping like a baby. He almost wished the man had woken up—seeing his panicked, pale face would have been the icing on the cake.
Gran took a deep breath, hovering in the air before taking off. Only for someone to latch onto his right ankle. Gran moved in an instant, kicking off the offending limb with his free leg. He whirled around, rising his right leg to drop his heel on his attacker. Only to stumble at the sight of the man's convulsing, red-hot body.
"Fuck!" Gran rocketed up towards Kano.
But he was too late. An explosion of fire caught him, throwing him head-first into a wall. Everything went black.
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Gran let out a long, coughing groan, wincing as he tried and failed to move. He opened his eyes but couldn't see anything other than the rubble he was buried under. He wriggled in place. Nothing felt broken, but he was pretty sure he'd cracked a couple ribs. But that had nothing on the burns running up his back.
A lesser man might have given up. But Gran couldn't afford to give up, not while Toshinori still needed him. His injuries could wait, first, he needed to dig himself out of the collapsed building. He took a deep breath, only to immediately gag and cough. But Gran knew that so long as he could still breathe, he had a shot at living. His second breath wasn't any better, nor his third or fourth. But his fifth breath was long and steady. Bracing himself as best he could, he released a highly concentrated burst of carbon dioxide from the soles of his feet, blasting apart the surrounding rubble. He shivered as the cold night air rushed into the newly made hole.
He was still halfway buried, but at least he could try and crawl his way out.
"Damn," a familiar, gruff voice said with a chuckle. "That's not something you see every day." Gran didn't know if he should have been relieved that the first person to find him wasn't a Yakuza thug, or annoyed that it was the Wolverine.
He tilted his head up as high as he could. "You just gonna stand there and gawk?"
"Nah." Heavy footsteps stomped close to Gran's head. "Move as far to the left as you can." Gran did so. "…Really? Shit, this is gonna be close."
Snikt
Gran didn't even have a chance to blink before three silver claws stabbed through the rubble, mere centimeters from his face. "What the hell!" The claws dragged back, slicing through concrete and metal like butter. The rubble fell away, exposing Gran's face to the cool night air. And the smell of burning rubber. "Agh, fuck!"
"Yeah, that'd be the melted nylon. Almost couldn't find your scent amid all of it."
"My what?"
"Your scent." He preemptively answered Gran's next question. "I've got an enhanced sense of smell—so believe me, if you think it's bad, I'm in hell. Fucking around with the rest of my head too, but that might be because I haven't had a good night's rest in…awhile."
"I thought your mutation was those metal claws?"
"Ah-ah." The Wolverine wagged a finger. "I've got the X-gene, not the Quirk gene."
"Right, right." Gran rolled his eyes. He wasn't near intelligent enough to figure out the minute difference between the two power-granting genes, but Gran knew that the X-gene granted ridiculous powers compared to the Quirk gene. "Can you help me with the rest of this shit piled on top of me?"
"Sure. Don't move." Gran grumbled but kept still as the Wolverine sliced through the remaining debris. Once he wasfreed, the vigilante offered Gran his hand. Gran accepted it and rose on shaky, numb legs.
"Anything broken?" the Wolverine asked.
Gran hummed, gingerly patting his ribs. "At least two cracked ribs. I'm more worried about my burns, though."
The Wolverine shrugged, leaning over and inspecting Gran's back. "Eh, it's not too bad. Depending on how lucky you get with someone's healing powers, you'll be good as new in a few days.
Gran clicked his tongue but froze as he saw something in the distance. It looked like a person, and they were holding up their hands.
Gran didn't even think, taking a quick, hasty breath and shoving the Wolverine out of the way. A bone-white arrow slammed into his chest. He crashed back to the ground. He expected it to hurt more, considering his burns. But maybe this was just the straw that broke the camel's back. His body finally deciding it was done after all the abuse Gran put it through.
The last thing he saw before blacking out being the Wolverine's shocked face. His last thought before blacking out was a desperate apology to Toshinori.
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