Jun exited the unmarked police vehicle. Black sneakers crunched the dirty pavement as he stood up to peer around. The catastrophe in the bar brining desolate street to life. Weed filled lots, boarded-up shops, and large warehouses next to rundown apartments. Many of the residents congregated outside the police line that cordoned off the street, trying to catch a glimpse what was going on. Their faces ranged from dull interest to pure annoyance. Many of them skinny and tired. The blazing light and blaring might from the police siren's kept the residence awake through the chilly desert night...

It was on their faces. It was in their unspoken plight. Stress marred wrinkle faces and fearful eyes that beheld the truth.

This wasn't the first time something like this happened.

The square box-shaped bar looked like a bunker that had seen a pitched battle. Jun couldn't help but look at himself in the reflection of black cruisers.

He was in his mid-twenties. His appearance would be called azian. Short black straight hair, tannish skin, and standing just under a hundred and seventy-eight centimeters. His brown trench coat with a grey business suit underneath made him any old detective, albeit a young one. A police pistol bulged from underneath his coat.

The five-foot, ten-inch detective did not look prepared for what the signs pointed to.

He turned to the crime scene over the hood of his car.

Bones' bar. The notorious hang out of crooks, thugs, and enterprising criminals. There were many, but this one was an open secret.

It was in the neglected outskirts of the city. There was nothing out here but abandoned business, pavement, and desert. A few dozen miles to the city center was the river that fed into the ocean. It led to a sprawling and flourishing city center where the world's richest lived. The disparity was immense.

Jun sighed.

They called him in for a 10-100. In YNPD that meant Major Unexplained Crime. A giant was massacring people. All hands on deck.

Ever since the Tao Long overthrew the Galante family out of York New City... things had become strange.

He left his car and spoke to the person in charge at the scene. An old Sargent who gave him the rundown on the situation. As he listened, he couldn't help but think back to when he was a kid.

He wanted always wanted to be a police officer. Yet his father didn't survive the corruption in the city. That, along with his uncle's death, had sent his grandfather in a spiral of grief that sent him down a dark path.

The young detective hadn't seen his grandfather Yuriorkis in over a decade. He had been taken care of by distant relatives. He often wondered: was he the only one left alive in his family?

He didn't know. But he would do his best to make sure he stayed alive.

The sergeant finished and pointed a crusier he would be keeping a lookout. He saw two rookie patrol officers next to the spot he was assigned to. They were fighting their nerves as the sound of mad laughter echoed from the bar.

"You two," Jun called out to the pair of nervous rookies, "Get ahold of your selves. You'll be fine if you keep your heads."

They swallowed. One of them, a blonde teen who looked like he just started growing stubble, found it hard to stare at Jun's hard glare. He looked down at Jun's badge and bumbled out his reply.

"S-sorry... Y-you're a detective for the Abnormal Crimes Unit? I-I thought you'd be b-better equipped."

The other, black-haired officer looked away toward the piles of dismembered corpses. He only stared at it for a second, but even that was too much.

Limbs, torsos, heads, blood, and viscera. All over the front of the grey, cowboy-themed bar. The bodies looked as if they just fell apart at the seams, without rhyme or reason. Magically cut into pieces with a blade so precise they looked like dissembled action figures. Except with the blood and guts.

The rookie leaned down and vomited.

At that very moment, something flew over his head. It smashed into the blonde-haired boy's right temple. Jun staggered back at the impact, shielding his face from the explosion of blood and bone. Glass and liquid splashed all over the detective, missing with the officer's blood.

The teen fell to the ground with a thud.

Jun stared down in horror. His eyes went wide at what he saw.

The teen's head was caved in. The object impacted him with so much force he no longer looked human. Just a piece of pink and red, mixed with some bone.

Jun clenched his teeth and breathed hard. He saw a shard of glass next to the mangled head. On it was a label. He couldn't believe it.

The object had been a liquor bottle. An ordinary liquor bottle.

His body trembled. What kind of person could throw a wine bottle with so much force it destroyed a person's head?

The detective turned to the door in barely controlled terror. This was what he signed up for.

The abnormal and unknown.

He swallowed. His lips and mouth were as dry as the surrounding desert.


"You fucking call that shit alcohol? I wouldn't even feed this pig swill to my worst enemy," Victor yelled at the equally massive Stocks as if he were nothing.

Stocks stood still, keeping his composure as best he could, spittle landing on his face and beard. Even with his pride and anger, he couldn't stop the nervous sweat from running down his wrinkled face. Stoic and expressionless, he stared at Victor with all the restraint a man could pray for.

"No problem," Stocks said with a nod. He turned to go into the back of the bar, only for Victor to speak up.

"Ah, one second. Where's the smile? Give me a fucking smile."

Stocks closed his eyes and sighed as quietly as he could. He stilled himself and turned around to face Victor. The strained smile on his face did little to hide the hate and fear in his eyes.

Victor laughed. It was deep and mocking.

"Look how miserable you fucking look. Hehehe! All right. Get my fucking drink..."

Stocks nodded and walked away to his left. The squeaking of the bar counter's tiny doors was the only complaint from Stocks. The rush of cold air as the door opened was the only audible sigh of complaint Victor heard. Another sigh sounded when the door closed.

Victor smiled and turned around to see a sawed-off shotgun just finished being positioned. His smile never faded.

The hammers dropped.

Both barrels exploded, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The cacophony erupted through the bar as walls of liquor bottles exploded behind the giant. Lead shotgun pellets destroyed countless priceless drinks.

Then silence.

The dribbling sound of alcohol was confirmation that the biker had made a huge mistake.

The small gang of six looked on in confusion as Victor sat there on his stool. Smiling. Not even blemished.

The three colors - red, blue, and yellow - moved as fast as they could away from the counter and entered the bathroom. The smartest people in the entire room.

The pistols and shotguns of the biker gang shook in fear.

The bikers fired.

The loud pops and blasts of gunfire overtook the blaring sirens from outside. Bullet after bullet rocketed towards Victor. Then through Victor. Then behind Victor.

Each bullet entering and exiting his body as if he were a liquid ghost. His laugh, the giggle of a sadistic beast. Glass, wood, and liquor flew into the air in a brilliant show of futility. Dust and liquid exploded behind the seemingly invincible man, a smile spreading across his face.

Lead sank into the wood. It ripped and tore into the counter, stools, and walls of the bar with a vicious crack. A shinning mirror behind the bar counter that had somehow survived the opening salvo of a shotgun blast exploded into silvery, jagged rain.

The men kept firing, fireballs exiting their pistols until they had no more bullets to give.

The bearded and surly bikers breathed heavy and hard. Adrenaline pumped through blood and their hands shook from gripping to tightly. Sweat dripped down their bandanas, face, and dribbled off their beards.

They stared in absolute fear at the laughing man in front of them. The man's bellowing laughter, that of a demonic creature.

Gunfire had ravaged the wooden counter, glass mirror, and alcohol.

Yet Victor stood unharmed.

His arms spread wide. He slammed his palms together into a titanic clap of appreciation. He continued to clap. The grin on his face spread wider as their fear grew. His laughter grew. His mad eyes gazing over all of them like school children giving a beloved teacher a present.

The sound of charging, stampeding footsteps came from outside. Victor glanced out the corner of his eyes to his right. Everyone else in the bar whipped their heads to the entrance in surprise. Police poured in. Equipped with body armor and armed to the teeth, they pointed their weapons at Victor and the biker gang.

Stocks slammed the door open and screamed, "STOP! DON-"

He didn't have time before the gunfire erupted. Stocks slammed the giant walk-in freezer door and locked it shut.

Victor stood up to his full height as he charged at the armored police squad. They fired their guns at the charging beast, again bullets phasing through him. The lead shots found targets with people standing near the back of the bar.

Riddled with bullets, they slumped back against the wall. Red painted the wood. The blood into the floorboards that vibrated with gunshots and with every step of the hundred and eighty-kilo monster. The weight of a baby bull heading toward the squad.

Victor pulled his arm back and swung a hand into the first row of officers. A simple slap.

They're upper bodies crumpled in half. One after another were collected on his palm like folded paper. With a laugh, Victor sent four officers flying toward the upper wall to his left. They crashed into the wood with a sickening crunch. Limbs contorted in loose configurations as their torsos tossed aside and bent in half.

The police officers continued to fire in a blind panic at the approaching, towering man. Their guns did absolutely nothing but cause more collateral damage to the patrons in their terror. Victor twisted back and snatched another officer by the leg and began swinging him around. Violently whipping the man until the man's bones, tendons, and ligaments were destroyed.

Crowded against each other, some officers were too packed together to escape. Victor showed now mercy. Each impact of his human mace lethal. The officers' riot gear useless as he turned three people into a paste before his the 'weapon' fell apart in his hand.

A growl echoed out from Victor as lead pellets and slugs hit his back. Red welts formed on his skin as if shot by a child's slingshot.

That was all.

That was enough to raise his anger.

Victor craned his massive neck towards the biker gang. They continued to fire, still having the audacity to try to attack Victor with their useless guns. The bullets bounced and peeled off his skin, falling to the floor with clangs. He stared at the biker gang with a red face of indignation. Bullets passed through his face as the officers tried in vain to put him down from the other side.

Slowly, the bikers realized their mistake. The gunfire died down as Victor turned around. He reached out toward the gang. Most of them scattered.

One of the bikers who stayed leveled his magnum and had finally managed to hit him in the chaos.

Victor's head whipped back at the force of a bullet hitting his forehead.

Blood dripped down the man's face.

As if by collective instinct, the room became dead quiet. Mad hope entered all of there minds that the beast was finally slayed.

He titled his head down to the crowd of fools. It had drawn a pinprick of blood from Victor's forehead.

That was a mistake.

The monster shook. He trembled. He looked down at the bikers. Face red and scowling with rage. Veins erupted from his skin.

A demonic smile spread on his face.


Two vehicles speed through the police line and came to a screeching halt. Camber's Hatsu, Maximum Overdrive, allowing her to drive her and an extra car like an extension of her body.

Much to the horror of Briannaisa, Shoot, and Knuckle. They exited her car as if Evel Knievel took them through a tour of hell.

Police and emergency personnel stared at the orange and black cars with shock, guns leveled. Knuckle fell out first, yelling the top of his lungs as he slapped the orange car.

"Are you crazy!? Who uses an on-ramp as a literal ramp?!"

His face instantly changed when he heard the screams

Mercutio kicked opened his door and jumped out of his car. His face was deadly serious. As his four members left his black car, he turned to Camber's car and yelled commands.

"Get ready! He isn't an opponent you can hold back against!"

The experienced officers made room for him and his people.

Everyone did except Jun. The man walked directly to Mercutio. The sound of a speeding car was heard in the distance. It wasn't fast enough to get there before Jun reached Mercutio.

"You! Get the hell out of her-"

Jun stopped. He realized there was a gun pressed to his forehead. The cool steel taking all sense of speech out of him.

"I suggest you move out of the way, detective, before you make me angry. I have enough to worry about."

Jun's mouth quivered into a frown. He answered.

"No. You and your men aren't welc-"

He heard the clicking of a hammer.

"I gave you a chan-"

A screeching car shattered the two men's concentration. The vehicle nearly collided with a police car in the large parking lot. A blonde man screamed out of his window.

"Wait! Henry, wait!"

Everyone turned to classic Cadillac-looking car. Everyone except Mercutio, yet that was enough for him to hesitate for a split second.

A levitating fist smashed into the pistol, sending Mercutio's aim towards the sky. The gun fired, and the bullet disappeared high into the desert night. Mercutio frowned and turned to Shoot. Then to a Knuckle, who had his arms crossed. His glare landed on Charlie.

"Is this the new rookie in your department? The guy who doesn't get the game…"

In his nervousness, Charlie struggled to pull up the lock on his car door. He fell out and popped up from the ground before running to the two.

He was a large, tall man. Around the size of Leorio. His face a weathered handsome, though his eyes were dull and tired. Years of police work burning through his natural looks and leaving his blonde hair streaked with greys. In his mid-forties, he still had an easy smile that could charm the devil. White skin, blue eyes, blonde hair, and a baby's face adding to his disarming, if fading charm.

"Hey, hey. Take it easy, 'Henry'. M.C.B sure has you on edge-"

Before the conversation could proceed any further, the cries and screams of terror echoed through the parking lot. Police officers poured out of the entrance like water bursting from a dam. They fell over each other as they clamored to escape the raging beast inside. Six exited before the seventh officer was sent twisting into the air by the collision of a human body. It turned the officer into a flying rag doll.

The two bodies landed. One was a biker. His head crushed, used as a handle to be thrown. The other was an officer. The force of the body snapped his neck.

Mercutio cursed. He dropped his gun down to his side and ran towards the entrance. Jun stared in bewilderment at the man's bravery. Or sheer stupidity.

"Let's go!" he yelled to his group, not wasting any time. The rest of them followed.

Jun could have sworn he saw someone familiar as the nine strangers ran towards the gates of hell, where that demon lived. All the other officers moved out of the way group of, to them, 'federal agents'.

Jun's frown spread.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Let the Major Crime Bureau hand-"

Jun turned to his partner and snarled, "We both know they're not from the government!" he stabbed a finger at his partner, "How long are we going to let them do what they please?"

The blue-eyed man frowned and pulled back his hand. He stared at his young partner, then at the rest of the officers who overheard him. They had the same face as Charlie.

It was guilt and uncertainty.

He sighed as 'Henry' and his 'officers' entered the building and the sound of supernatural battle erupted.

Jun looked away in disgust. He stared back at the group just entering the bar. He thought the older man looked familiar...


Victor turned to see who was stupid enough to enter. A gangster in a fedora and pin-stripped suit. A snub nose revolver. He laughed as he threw a crumpled body over his shoulder.

"Mercutio! You know that won't work! How man-"

He frowned as he saw the rest of Red Squad filter in from behind Mercutio. They weren't playing games this time.

He chuckled.

Maybe he went too far this time?

"Nah," Victor roared as he picked up two tables, spun around like a discus thrower, and sent them flying with the force of cannonballs.

Embued with Shu, the tables turned into flying saw blades. More durable then reinforced cemen and as fast speed cars. Mercutio rolled to his left as Knuckle did the same to his right. The twin deaths collided into the entrance and demolished the door frame, collapsing it. It cracked the cement exterior of the building, shaking the entire structure. The second one smashed into the only window at the front of the bar.

The entire building rumbled. The entranced and roof of the building slumped and caved in. The front of the building fell apart into concrete and wooden rubble, blocking the entrance and allowing no one in.

He was mad, not stupid. He heard the other members of Red Squad cursing from outside the entrance. That'd buy him more than enough time to deal with these three while the rest found another way in. Considering the building built like a bunker for a reason, it would take them sometime...

Victor looked at the three of them.

They were now trapped in there with him.

His fighting experience was such that it took him less than a second to pick which target was most vulnerable. His instincts zeroed in on Knuckle: shock on his face at seeing Victor's strength.

The Rohan sprung forth. Faster than Knuckle or any of the three could see. He became a blur as he picked up speed with every step. Through tables, chairs, and bodies. Through even air, that would naturally slow him down. Through light as he turned into a strange, translucent ball of death.

He barreled forward toward Knuckle. A vicious, chopping sound as air churned. Everything fell apart as the nigh-invisible void that was Victor stampeded toward Knuckle.

An orange, black, and white cat whisked Knuckle off his feet and brought him out of the path of destruction - just at the last second. The translucent catastrophe slid to a enormous path of destruction right down the middle of the bar.

Victor reappeared at the other end of the bar. His back fully visible, while his front was invisible. Everything between his start and his stop torn to pieces.

He looked left. Blinked. He looked right. Blinked. Disoriented. Light blinding. To him, it was as if he teleported. Or momentarily disappeared and reappeared in a different time and place. Turning around slowly, it took him a moment to recover. To reorientate himself from the complete darkness he had inhabited a moment ago.

In a pitched battle, a few seconds was death. A small arming sword came down from above, aimed directly at his forehead. Years of combat and pure, savage fighting instinct told Victor to dodge.

He moved his head to the right at the last moment. The sword dug into his left shoulder with a meaty slice. He snarled in annoyance as the blade bit into his body a mere fingertip length.

A bullet flew through his head an instant later. He almost laughed but didn't get the chance as the bullet ricocheted on the wall behind him and hit him in the back of the head. It pinged off his head with a metallic ring, like a metal ball barring hitting a wall. He stumbled forward from the force of Mercutio's supernatural bullet. Blood dripped down his shoulders.

Victor snarled savagely.

His left hand pinched the arming sword and pulled it out with ease. With barely any effort, his finger snapped the metal as if it were dried pasta. His right flew up and stabbed the wielder of the sword, feeling soft and wet.

He pulled it down to see a calico cat the size of a small human with a knight's helmet on it. Meowing in pain as Victor gripped his fist. His forearm flexing, enlarging the hole in the creature.

He barred his teeth in sadistic glee as the creature struggled.

In popped into smoke and ceased to exist. He frowned. A nen beast? He huffed and tilted his head as he stared at his arm.

He felt a fist hit him on the back of his lower spine. The hit was enough to force him forward from the impact. In a blur, he twisted to his right and smashed his left fist into the wooden floor. Knuckle barely jumped back in time. The front of his coat was reduced to tatters from just touching Victor's arm.

Knuckle grimaced at the attack. The speed and power of the punch nearly toppling him backward from the wind alone. He skidded to a stop, then immediately took a step forward. He planned to move as fast as he could to the other side of the room…

His eyes widened as muscle memory and instinct forced its hand and made him jump back. Another fist fell down from the sky. He hopped to the right. Another punch.

All hell broke loose. It began raining fists. The wooden floor disappeared as Knuckle began dancing and doding for his life. Each hit missing his upper body by mere centimeters.

Victor moved faster than even Knuckle could imagine. The underboss' Hatsu allowing the muscle-bound murderer to bypass the normal limitations of air friction. Knuckle pushed himself to his limit, his coat becoming tatters from the near misses. A barrage of punches that Knuckle barely danced his way through sent wooden boards into the air that cut Knuckle's body.

Knuckle's life flashed before his eyes as each of the giants' punches came closer and closer to hitting him. Even a glancing blow could spell the end...

Victor's Hatsu, the Untouchable, was a Hatsu of extreme power, but one that demanded extreme spatial-awareness as well. One that was too instinctual and prone to misleading...

The Rohan hesitated for when he felt something hovering over his shoulder. With the instinct and violence of a wild animal, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed a white creature. He slammed it onto the ground without pause and proceeded it several times his fists into it several times. He frowned when he saw it wasn't hurt.

On the floor was a white fairy-like creature that smiled unfailingly. Cartoony blush marks on its cheeks and black beads for eyes. It was a tiny thing with wings on its back and a baby blue jumpsuit on its body. A yellow ascot around was wrapped around its neck. A digital counter was on its forehead that read '272'.

It spoke in a cute voice, "Hello! It's time! You've accrued interest!"

With a click, the number on the creature's head flipped down to show '299'. That split second was just enough of a distraction for Knuckle to move faster than most trained Nen users could see. He dashed away from the monster of a man in a blink of an eye, sweat pouring from his face from his dance with death.

"Don't you fucking dare! Get this fuck-" he said before another enormous cat, this time with a musketeer hat and rapier, attacked him. It moved with grace and speed as it tried to hurt Victor. Yet, the creature found its sword could only penetrate skin deep. As the battle raged, Victor pushed the cat on the back foot, forcing it to dodge his lightning-quick attacks.

Knuckle slid to a stop next to Briannaisa. He removed his tattered coat to reveal a sweating body that was as ripped as a person could be. He stared at the creature standing next to Briannaisa, who was focused on the battle in front of her. The creature was another cat. This one had a scimitar and a turban on its head.

Knuckle frowned, "That guy's insanely strong. He's got three times the Aura as Morel. But he can't keep up this pace. He's burning through..."

Mercutio frowned as he continued to fire at Victor, keeping the monster from outright slaughtering the cat musketeer. He yelled over to his old rival.

"I wouldn't be so sure. In all my time dealing with this guy, I haven't seen him get tired once. He's a freak..."

Briannaisa shook her head, "It doesn't matter. He'll run out eventually or the rest of Red Squad finds a way in. I'll keep distracting him with my Calico Knights while you two keep setting up Knuckle for hits. He's only got minutes at this rate..."

Mercutio frowned, "Can't you use you're other Hatsu to drown him?"

"I think he can swim. Besides, that would rejuvenate his Aura. It'd defeat our tac-"

Victor roared from across the bar, raging at the combined annoyances plaguing him. The dancing cat and the floating mascot saying, 'It's time now! You've accrued interest!

"I can hear you, you fucking cunt... You think that'll work on me?!"


The large man with a blonde mane of hair and an easy Cheshire grin stared at all of them. The Tallyman presented him like a circus ringleader would: bowed and arms displayed toward the large man for all to see. The black-suited man's smile was as wide as one could be.

"This is my associate, Aslan. He, like me, has been blessed with a gift that will help you reclaim this city. He is a unique individual. A Specialist"

Many of the gangsters scoffed, including Mr. Hert, "Specialist?"

The incredible large man strode forward, stepping over the dead guard's body. He looked at the crowd of people and chuffed smugly. He titled his thick, fat head back and looked down his fat face. His voice was gruff and gravely, lion-like in his tone. A predator in the shape of a gangster in shorts.

"Yeah. I'm a Specialist 'cause I'm special. Ya' see, I got the unique skill of giving people powers... for a price, hehehe..."

"So, which one of you wants a power?" the Tallyman said. His smile faltered for a moment. He bowed slightly.

"Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. My fine friend here will explain."

The Tallyman walked away towards a large, black SUV and walked behind it. He pressed his right hand against his temple and frowned.

Yes, brother?

Vasili heard his brother's voice echo through his head. 'These cunts are ruining my fun! The bloody plan won't last long...'

You were supposed to distract them. That was all. I assume you are doing more than that?

'I'm having a little fun is all. What's th- gah FUCK! They're pissin' me off! I need a boost, brother!'

The man known to the gangster as the Tallyman, better known as Vasili Rohan, spoke. His accent reverting to something posh and dignified.

"You are to use this to escape, brother. Nothing more."

Fine.

The Tally man's face elongated and stretch. The skin no longer 'sticking' to his face, the skin no longer 'real'. The invisible aura that flickered around him vanished. His business suit became baggy and loose. His face was gaunt and skeletal like.

He slumped to the floor, his hair slowly turning from black to blonde. An emaciated mess. His words were slurred, almost unintelligible.

'You have a minute.'


Victor's hunched over and bestial posture disappeared as he suddenly stood up straight. The mad, savage look in his eyes vanished. Intelligence and knowledge appeared in his glare.

He stared at the cat that danced around him. Analyzing it.

Knuckle's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. He saw the sudden flicker and increase in the density of aura around Victor's body. While his allies knew something was wrong, experience told Knuckle that Victor was far, far stronger now.

"No, that's not possible!" he said, hoping he was wrong...

Victor's left arm struck out at the cat, lazy and loose. The cat jumped to its left to avoid the unusually slow blow, keeping its guard up just in case. Briannaisa's eyes widened.

Victor's left hand suddenly sped up to the right, skewering the creature in mid-jump. He had delivered his first and only feint of the entire fight. It had been entirely too affective as Victor ripped the creature's head off with his other hand. Smoke made of aura erupted as the creature disappeared.

Victor slowly walked toward the three, ripping his jacket and shirt off to reveal exaggerated, hard muscles covered in pulsating veins. Muscle fibers strained the skin and looked as if it would break - taught and stretched to the brink. Aura, unlike anything the three of them saw before, erupted from the giant before them.

The three of them braced themselves. Briannaisa's cat raised its scimitar in a defense stance.

They didn't know. They couldn't know.

That the combined sum of the brothers' strength and intelligence stood in front of them.

Knuckle continued to stare, trying to figure out what was going on.

'This isn't an enhancer ability... is it? What kind of Hatsu is this?!'

"This is bad... I can tell his Aura reserves just freakin' doubled..."

Mercutio grimaced in rage at Victor.

'We could have beaten him before without issue, but now? His intelligence and strength increased way too much... Even if the rest of his team got here, the cost...'

Victor tilted his head up as he looked down at the three of them. His face was a smile of pure delight and victory.

He pointed his right thumb over his shoulder and to A.P.R. The little mascot chimed again with its phrase.

"Please get rid of this and I'll leave quietly. If you don't get rid of this thing in the next twenty seconds, I'll kill all three of you. Or, at the very least, many people will die."

Knuckle stared in shock. It took most opponents a while to figure out what Hakoware was...

Briannaisa clenched her fist in anger.

"Only if you promise not to cause trouble while here..."

Victor smiled, "Sure, sure. No problem at all. I was just having some fun, hehehe..."

Mercutio stared in pure rage and hate at Victor. Victor smiled back.

Victor turned around and walked through a wall.

Silence.

The three of them stood there, shaken. Exhaustion hitting them as adrenaline disappeared.

Knuckle snarled, gripping his hands,"That's it?! He just gets away with it?! Just like that?"

Briannaisa sat down in a chair, exhausted. Her cat patting her on the shoulder and meowing sadly. She felt useless.

Her knights were incredibly strong. Each one of them held a third of her Aura reserves and were as durable as a high-level Nen user. Two of them had been killed by Victor without any issue.

She sat there, shaken. She placed her head in her hands in exhaustion as she mumbled her words through her hands.

"What do you want, Knuckle? You saw how strong he is... even if we could make him pay… he's still an underboss. Without him, we lose his brother, and both of them keep the Mafias to the east in check," she said, frustration and a trace of despair in her voice.

Mercutio spits on the floor, anger easily coming out, "It's not worth the trouble. He'd kill half of us if we tried to take him down. It's the right choice."

Knuckle looked at the dead bodies strewn on the floor, "Yeah. Well, it doesn't feel like it..."


The Tally Man stirred.

He stood up and looked around. His complexion turned back to tan from sickly pale white. His blonde hair reverting to black, and his suit took its shape as he regained muscle mass. His aura coming back and revived him.

He sat up and stretched. His muscles cracked, tendons snapped, and joints popped. Vasili hated when they shared abilities. Alas, it was needed to fulfill the plan.

He looked down at his watch and frowned.

He had been unconscious for thirty minutes. How unbecoming of him to leave his benefactors waiting. He walked from around the SUV back to the congregation of gangsters to see several men radiating Aura.

Aslan turned to him and smirked, "Ok boss, everything is set."

Mr. Hert stared at his hand. White aura burned from his right hand as smile spreading across his cruel face.

"This power! What is this?!"

The Tallyman smiled, "That is Nen. Those powers are loaned to you by my good friend here, Aslan. You remember the terms?"

The portly crime boss nodded, "Yeah, yeah. We follow your orders or the powers go back to him."

"Excellent. We shall be in touch," The Tallyman said before turning around towards his black SUV. Aslan followed.

Mr. Hert reached out a hand, "Wait, that's it? You just give us guys powers and no orders. Nothing?!"

The Tallyman paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder to Mr. Hert, "Spread the word that the Tallyman is offering a new option. A better option than the Tao Long. Learn your powers..."

He turned back and walked to the SUV. Aslan and the Tallyman sat in the back of the monstrous black machine. The black car roared to life, before lurching forward, tires crunching against a mix of desert sand and asphalt.

The Tallyman chuckled as he dug into his face and began to peel off his skin. Congealed blood, jelly-like in consistency, rolled down his tattered face. He continued to tear off the skin to reveal his true face. A face that would be identical to his brother Victor. Undistorted by his younger twin's size.

Tan skin mixed with pale white as his true face was revealed behind fake skin. Slender and with movie star looks, he was the complete opposite of his brutish brother. Heart-stealing blue eyes with high cheekbones and delicate eyebrows.

Tender lips and a sharp jawline free of facial hair. He pulled the skin off his head to reveal a blonde ducktail replaced the black one he had before. A smile danced on his lips.

Unlike his brother, one of confidence, control, and sanity.

"Right. Bloody brilliant show there, Aslan," he said with pleasantly.

"Thanks, boss, but that's what I do. No need for praise."

"No, no. You did fine work. It's all a man can ask for in his employees," he said as he reached for his smartphone and looked at an unread text.

Everything is set. The devices have been planted. They are ready to go.

Vasili grinned. He texted back.

What about Airmen? Is he setup?

Yes. Airmen has his cover story and identity set. He won't be found and will be ready to go when you say the word.

Bloody brilliant work as always, Silent.

He raised his head and looked up to his driver. A woman with incredible long nails wrapped her hands around the wheel. A white fur coat and boa wrapped around her neck. Short black hair that was done in a bob cut. Pale skin and ghost-like, yet she was beautiful beyond belief.

"Back to the hotel, shall we? Best get some rest before the big day Saturday," he sighed as he was handed a towel by his driver, Salon, "thanks, love. Walker's Hatsu is disgusting. But one cannot underestimate it. Bloody idiots will tell everyone about some boogie man called the Tallyman."

Aslan laughed, "Heh, just like when Evira first started. Make the game fair."

Vasili leaned back as he placed his black sunglasses on his face and smiled. He tilted his head forward and stared through the tinted windows. He took in the glow of York New City. White, blue, and bright. The street lights strobed through the tinted windows, illuminating him for seconds at a time. It was hypnotic...

"The game has changed."