1.7
"Battousai! Hey, Battousai!" Ken hissed out in a stage whisper.
"I see them, Ken," I called back, sounding more exasperated than I would have liked. It was after midnight, and the stress and lack of sleep seemed to be wearing on me.
At the end of the block, a rowdy group of men were making their way down the street towards the club. There were nine of them, and though the majority would have been indistinguishable from any other blue collar worker under different circumstances, the two with proudly shaven heads and gang tattoos on their necks betrayed their likely allegiance.
The Empire had finally reared their ugly heads.
The group seemed to be outfitted largely in impromptu weaponry, ranging from chains and lengths of pipe, to baseball bats and bent golf clubs. They also seemed to have quite the collection of what I assumed to be alcohol with them, more than half the members carrying cardboard cases and plastic bags filled with loudly clattering bottles and cans. Every once in a while, a half empty bottle would be pitched down the street, smashing onto the pavement with a messy burst of fluid and glass, and a celebratory cheer.
They certainly didn't fit my mental image of an Empire war party. I knew for a fact that the Empire had enough guns of various types and sizes to equip their members for any serious engagements. That meant that this likely wasn't an official attack, insofar as any gang related activity could be called 'official,' and was probably just a group of assholes looking to blow off steam.
It didn't really change what I would have to do, but seemed like an important distinction to make. It meant that at the very least, the Empire wasn't starting some serious offensive here just yet.
As the delinquent group drew closer and Ken worked himself up into a nervous tizzy, I perched myself on the edge of the roof, waiting for a good opportunity to make my entrance.
"Well, well, well," one of the men with a shaven head called out, tapping his wooden bat on the ground as the group came to a stop. They were standing in the middle of the street, a stone's throw away from the front of the club. "If it isn't the queer lovin' dog, sittin' faithfully out in the cold. That faggot got you beggin' for scraps yet, or do you just lap up whatever hits the floor?"
There was a round of derisive laughter and jeers as the loudmouth smirked and looked to his companions for affirmation. For his part, Ken held up a hand in warning and showed admirable self restraint in leaving his gun untouched.
"Hey, we don't want any trouble." He called back in a fairly level tone. "Just go about your business somewhere else and we won't have to get the police involved."
"Hah!" a man with a barrel of a chest called back. "You think those hard workin' guys and gals got the time to worry 'bout what happens to a bunch a' fags?"
"Yeah!" another man called out. "They're too busy doing God's work, busting up niggers and ching chongs to spare a pillow biting pansy house like this the time of day."
As the group erupted into another round of boisterous laughter, I felt my hand twisting around the scabbard of my sword.
"Go ahead and call 'em! See how long it takes 'em to give a shit!"
As a member of the group wound up to pitch a beer bottle straight at the club's open sign, I made my move.
Mentally timing my descent as the bottle left his hand, I stepped over the side of the building, dropping to the ground and snatching the bottle out of the air on my way down. It sloshed messily, and I held onto it with two fingers before dropping it to the ground to avoid getting any of the potent smelling beverage on my costume.
The group had fallen into a hush as I turned to face them.
"You guys sound awfully confident for a bunch of drunks stumbling around in Lung's territory," I called out, not needing to fake the anger in my voice.
Ignoring his survival instincts, one of the bald heads called back.
"The fuck we are, this is an Empire street."
"No," I drawled sarcastically. "It's really not."
Without warning I dashed forwards, crossing the distance between me and baldy in one step to plant my right foot squarely into his chest. The kick knocked him back into another member of the group, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
Most of the men recoiled in surprise, backing a few steps away from where I had suddenly appeared in the middle of them. As baldy number one wheezed breathlessly on the ground, baldy number two pushed his way forwards.
"Don't just stand there, jump this stupid bitch before she does something!"
Making good on his own call to arms, the man charged forwards, raising a metal pipe above his head to use as a bludgeon. In response, I stepped into his charge, pivoting on my left leg to whip my right up and around his raised arm. I pulled the kick short, bleeding off impact force in favor of wrapping my calf down around the man's neck, pinning his raised arm to the side of his head beneath my thigh and pulling him off balance.
As he began to topple forwards, I followed through the momentum of my spin and used the grapple to leverage myself up, pulling my left leg over his back. With all of my weight suddenly on his neck, the stumbling man lost all hope of recovering his balance and plummeted towards a face plant into the pavement. Sparing a moment to snatch the pipe out of his hand, I planted my left foot back on the ground, having fully stepped over his back, and balanced easily on one leg as I held him in a stranglehold between my right calf and thigh.
Taking a moment to glance around and assess the situation, I spotted three other individuals who looked like they were ready to heedlessly charge forwards, and one more lifting his jacket to reach into his waistband. Plotting out a quick course of action, I made my move.
Leaning forwards, I lifted baldy straight into the air with my leg, pivoting partway through into a full standing split to carry him higher. Then, I reached down with the pipe to leverage his legs up, releasing my stranglehold once his body was parallel with the ground. Pulling my right leg back down, I planted my foot on his body's center of mass at the base of his spine and pushed off, flinging him forwards into two of the men starting to respond.
Pulling my right leg back down and behind myself, I dug my foot into the ground and transitioned into a spin. I pulled my body low, bending until my chest was parallel with the ground, as a length of chain quietly whistled by over my head. Carrying through the momentum of the spin, I began to straighten back out and pulled my sword in its scabbard from my sash with my left hand. As though I were drawing the blade with a reverse-handed grip, I whipped the edge of the scabbard up into the underarm of the surprised man swinging the chain. It connected with a resounding crack and he began to topple over.
Straightening up out of my crouching spin, I shifted my weight back onto my left foot, my right grinding loosely on the pavement to bleed off some momentum. As my eyes fell back on the man who'd been reaching into his waistband, now pulling up a pistol to aim at me in what felt like slow motion, I finished off my maneuver.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I pitched my pilfered pipe straight into his hand. It connected with a sickening crunch, knocking the gun away to the other side of the street.
There was a brief beat of silence as time seemed to catch up with me, before his pained scream reached my ears.
"My hand! My fucking hand!" He collapsed to the ground, clutching his arm to his chest and crying out.
Of the rest of the group, there were only two men left standing, and neither of them looked too eager to fight. They backed away from me, staring fearfully as they tried to help their companions back to their feet.
With a slow, deliberate motion, I raised my sword to just below my eyes and partially drew the blade, rotating it with small movements to glint what light I could off of the polished surface. The men froze, eyes transfixed to the glinting metal.
"Are you guys done yet, or do we need to keep going?" I called out, pouring as much derision into my tone as I could manage. Baldy number one looked like he wanted to say something, but only managed a feeble wheeze before wincing and doubling over in pain. The man supporting him glared at me in a mixture of contempt and fear, before taking a panicked step back when I met his eyes.
As I looked around, the rest of the group reacted with similar skittishness as my gaze passed over them. Whatever else they might have been thinking, the fight had clearly been knocked out of them.
With a soft click, I sheathed my blade and lowered it to my side.
"Maybe you guys didn't get the memo, but this is Lung's territory now," I called out, projecting conviction I didn't feel into my voice. Bringing up my sword, I used it to point at Mitch's nightclub. "That means that any businesses around here are under Lung's protection. If you want to be a nuisance, do it somewhere else. Otherwise, the next time I see you I won't let you off with just a warning."
There was something surreal about threatening adult gang members like this. Even though I knew that I had the upper hand here, I still couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment they might see through me, see that I was just a fifteen year old girl seriously out of her depth. However, to my immense relief, after a few shared glances, uncertain movements, and mumbled curses and threats, the group gathered themselves together and started hobbling slowly back towards Empire territory, giving me a wide berth. I turned with them, keeping the group locked in my sights as they slowly shuffled down the street at the speed of a limping dog.
I kept watching until they'd turned a corner, a full block and a half away.
Wondering if I'd done enough to meet what was expected of me, I heaved out a sigh, slipped my sword back into my sash, and turned to survey the street. Spotting the handgun I'd knocked away before, I made my way over to it and carefully picked it up by the grip. I made sure to keep the muzzle pointed at the ground while I gave it a once over, looking for the safety. I thought that I might have found it, but not being one hundred percent sure and unwilling to take a chance with a dangerous firearm, I turned to find Ken.
He was standing stock still on the curb, hand on his pistol in its holster while he stared at me with a wide eyed, dumbfounded look. I walked over to him and held the handgun out.
"Hey," I called out, startling him from his stupor. "Can you show me how to deal with this?" He glanced down at the gun in my hands before turning back to me for confirmation.
"Deal with it?" he asked, uncertain. I nodded in reply.
"Yeah, how to put the safety on, take the bullets out, things like that."
"Ah," he nodded in realization.
He reached out for it hesitantly, repeatedly glancing at me as though to make sure it was really alright to take it. I shrugged mentally; if I really thought he was going to try to pull a fast one on me, it wouldn't be a challenge to deal with him at this distance. Gingerly taking the weapon, he flipped it back and forth once to quickly study each side before holding it out to point at a switch near the back.
"Uh, this gun has a safety decocker. When you push this switch down, it makes the gun unable to fire and safely decocks the hammer." He then pointed to a button on the grip behind the trigger. "This button here releases the magazine." He pressed it and pulled the magazine out with his other hand. I could see a bullet sticking out of the top of it so the gun had definitely been loaded. "Even with the magazine out, it's important to check whether or not there's a bullet still in the chamber." He pulled back on the top of the gun, revealing a slot. As it opened a bullet popped out of the top of it.
Reaching out, I snatched the bullet out of the air and turned it over in my fingers, giving it a once over. Ken glanced over at me nervously before gesturing at the gun again.
"When the magazine is empty, the slide will be locked back after the gun fires. You have to push down on this lever here to release it."
I nodded and gave Ken a word of thanks for his explanation. Reaching out for the gun, he awkwardly placed it into my hand and gave me the magazine. After a quick study, I figured out how to put the extra bullet back into it and slid it back into the grip of the gun. I switched the safety on and experimentally removed and replaced the magazine a few times before nodding to myself and holding the gun in my hand experimentally.
I had to say, it felt a bit awkward. Not that the gun was too big or that the grip was the wrong shape or something; it just didn't feel anywhere near as natural in my hand as my sword did. My innate dexterity was leagues better than before I had my power, and I had a feeling that I'd be able to use the gun with relative ease if I needed too, but it definitely would never be my first choice. I liked being prepared though, and could imagine that I'd encounter situations in the future where having a projectile weapon would make things much easier. It would be bad luck if this gun had been used in some horrible crime before and it was traced back to me, but I guess I could just blame that on the ABB if it happened. They definitely scavenged guns when the opportunity presented itself.
I turned back to Ken. "Thank you for the explanation. I'll hold onto this for now." He shot a nervous glance at the pistol in my hand before giving a small nod. Reaching behind myself, I felt around in my sash for a good spot and slid the gun into it.
"Um," He spoke up again, sounding even more nervous than before. "If you intend to shoot it, you have to pull back on the slide to chamber a round before hand." He mimed the action of holding a gun and pulling back on the top part of it before turning away from me and nervously wringing his hand. "Just didn't want you to get caught off guard."
I gave him another silent nod as the door to the club opened, the ambient sound of music once again swelling into a roar.
Mitchel poked his head out and shot a pointed look over at me and Ken before furtively glancing up and down the street. Seeing that things were clear, he strode out more confidently to meet us.
"I heard there was a spot of trouble out here," he announced, planting his hands on his hips. He turned to me and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Ran them off?"
I nodded in affirmation. "Maybe it's not any consolation to you, but it seemed like they were just a group of assholes, here specifically for the club, not part of something bigger."
Mitchel snorted and cocked his head to one side, giving me a probing look. "Bigger huh?"
He must have still been wondering about what was going on behind the scenes with the gangs. I could only give him a helpless shrug, not willing to stick my neck out to share details when things were still so uncertain.
Thinking about the situation, I remembered that Lung had ordered me to report any contact with the Empire, no matter how small.
"I need to make a phone call," I announced, reaching back into my sash to pull out my personal cell phone. I didn't miss the way Ken tensed up when my hand went behind my back. "It shouldn't take long, but if something else happens before I get back, just shout and I should hear it."
Without waiting for a reply, I bent my knees and leapt back up to the top of the club before trotting off along the rooftops to get out of earshot.
Opening up my contacts, I scrolled down the short list and selected 'Contact 01,' my entry for Lung, and dialed it. He picked up on the fourth ring.
"What?" he demanded without preamble.
"I ran into a group of Empire, nine of them. They didn't seem like they were retaliating, just picking a fight with the club here. I attacked them, injured a few, and ran them off with a warning." My report delivered, I held my breath waiting for his reaction.
I definitely hadn't been as brutal in my response as I could have been, but overall it had seemed like a pretty non-serious situation. I'd decided to operate under a pretext of equivalent force, at least as much as I could get away with. I wouldn't needlessly risk my own safety or deliberately go against Lungs orders, but if a simple situation was left to my own discretion, I didn't intend to go all out, carving my way through every gang member I came across. It didn't sit well with my conscience and it would also draw unnecessary attention from the PRT and heroes. I figured that Lung would at least understand the second part.
For better or worse, he didn't comment on it.
"The people you brought with you, what are they doing?" I couldn't sense any negativity in his tone, so I decided to put my worries aside for now.
"I left them to wait in a nearby alley, about half a block away."
He snorted in response. "They need experience. Get them involved."
The line went dead.
I pulled the phone away from my ear to make sure he'd actually hung up and cursed under my breath as I put it away. He'd told me to keep a low profile, so I didn't think that my decision to hold them back was wrong. Plus, this new order seemed mutually exclusive to not drawing attention. Had things changed because I'd already encountered a group of the Empire so now it was okay to be seen openly defending? Or had I made a mistake in my judgment, because my interpretation of 'low profile' was just too different from Lung's?
I shook my head, once again casting aside my worries. For now, doing as I was told was most important.
Turning in the direction of the alley, I quickly made my way over, dashing and hopping along the varying levels of the adjoining rooftops. When I reached the final building and peered down over the edge into the alley, my breath caught in my throat.
My group's SUV was nowhere to be seen.
