Had to rewrite. Files got corrupted and had to reformat the shits.

Lost almost 2k words prepped.

Same goes to my other stories as well, they are affected too.

"Oh man, this tastes so goood~!" Jason foodgasmed the moment he took a bite from his burger.

"Yeahhhh, told ya man. Them burgers are delicious!" Thug #4 nodded enthusiastically.

(They'll still be called Thugs for simplicity sake)

"You two are just overreacting…" Thug #5 deadpanned at the two.

"What do you mean!? These burgers are cooked just right! With them meat juice delivered good and it's not too oily-"

"Oh boy, here we go…" Thug #2 groaned in annoyance.

"We know, damn it!" Thug #1 and #5 said in unison.

"This shit is better than Mcdonalds." Thug #4 said.

"Ey, those are good." Thug #3 shrugged. "Don't diss the food."

"Yeah, for a fast food. Them shits make you fat!"

"So does Wayburgers!" Thug #3 exclaimed.

"For the love of, would you just please shut the hell up?" Thug #6 said frustratingly as he rubbed his temple from the incoming headache he would have to deal with… "Enough with the arguments."

"What about you dude? Which burgers are good!?"

"Mcdonalds or Wayburgers?"

""Which one?"" Thug #4 and #3 looked at #6.

"Dont bring me on your stupid fucking conversation you fuckers!"

"Oh Lord above, please don't let me hear more of these stupid idiots arguing…" Thug #1 lamented quietly.

All while Jason was eating his bag of burgers. They are so simple, but they are delicious!

Simplicity at its best!

And what's even better, he couldn't get fat!

YAY!

'…Can I though?' He pondered as he glanced at his stomach before shrugging the thought away as he continued snacking on his burgers.

Answering Thug #1's prayers and much to most of their relief, the truck arrived just 10 minutes later.

"Oh thank christ, it's been hours!" Thug #1 waved his hands exasperatingly.

"We've been waiting at this point for about 30 minutes dumbass."

"Same shit!"

"It really isn't…"

"Oi! Gritto!" Thug #6 walked up to the truck. "What the fuck took you so long?"

"Get off my fucking back, punk! Try handling the traffic and dealing with a popped tire on a hot day!" The driver Gritto hopped out from the truck. The man is fat, but there was some underlying muscle underneath the skin that showed that he pulled his weight.

"Yeah yeah, like you said that almost every time you arrived late on schedule."

"Sod off ya git!" Mumbled the driver irritatingly. "So where's the pay?"

"Gritto, you know how this goes…" Thug #6 sighed.

"The bloody package is fine! If you wanna check it, check it!" The driver rambled on.

"Calm down, Gritto…" Thug #6 said as Thug #4 and #2 went around the back to check. He opened it, revealing crates wrapped in plastic.

"Eyep, shipments here!" Thug #4 informed.

"Oi, you guys, go check! Make sure it's counted!"

"You know damn well it's counted damn it! No need to check!"

"Gritto, you know damn well about how we do this, no?" Thug #6 sighed resignedly. Already know where this is going.

"And you damn well know I keep my shit packed up and well!" Gritto retorted angrily.

"Shits' all set up and proper!" Thug #4 popped up from the side, informing Thug #6.

"Good, pack em up." He nodded as handed over a small bag containing money for the delivery's payment.

"That's an additional 5%, buddy."

Thug #6 frowned. "You do know we don't negotiate on the price right?"

"A man can dream about having it raised for my benefits!" Gritto stated.

"And that dream won't come to reality." He smirked.

After settling in the deal, the situation ended without any problems between the two. The Red Serpent thugs went back on their way to their hometurf.

The trip back went smoothly as ever been told by the others who've done this almost 'thousands of times' exaggerated by most of them. Though this was actually their almost 50th time on their package pickup. So far from what they know, there weren't any problems with the transaction.

But of course, one day, that streak of undisturbed line would break.

. . .

Cell had been playing games with several others on their recently bought wide-screen TV for their entertainment. Right of now, their ongoing enjoyment was—

"Oi, slow down!" Thug #4 exclaimed.

"Nah, fuck you bitch, I ain't slowing down!" Thug #5 grinned.

"Someone threw a shell on his ass!" Thug #2 gritted his teeth as his car was bumped by Thug #3. "Hey!"

"Sorry, not sorry!" Thug #3 replied smugly.

"Hey, you should watch out from Thug #6! He has a Blue Shell!" Cell crackled like a madman as he saw a blueshell propped up into action.

"Ahhhhh shit!" Thug #5 screamed in despair and agony, much to the delightfulness of the other players.

"Hey, Cell!" Thug #2 called out from the balcony of the 2nd floor. "Boss wants to talk to ya!"

"Alright!" Cell plopped up from his dedicated seat — one made of steel on which he'd gotten online. "Hey, tell me who wins on this."

"Gotcha."

"I'm pretty sure I'll win." Thug #3 said calmly.

"Oh, you bisch, you gonna eat those words." Thug #2 retorted.

Cell walked away from the rambling ragtag group of thugs he'd come to know and see them as 'drinking buddies' in a sort of manner. Not truly friends, but one of which… Coworkers… Yeah…. That…

Anyways, he went up to the Boss' office and entered.

"You called?"

"Yeah, it's trouble brewing up." Boss said the moment he walked in. Not looking at him as he was looking at the papers he was tired of reading, most likely reports coming in.

"What about?"

"We're getting too loud."

"…What's bad about it?"

"It's exactly as it is," David responded. "We're grabbing attention way too quickly. It will attract the big players on this, East Green is already well-known enough that the police wouldn't want a beef on them unless it's a serious matter."

"Serious enough to start a war?" Jason guessed.

"That and also economic ruin. East Green is big enough to control, let's say two quarters of this town's money. Not to mention they are big and have many assholes around backing them up, one which I don't suppose needed to remind you of that." Boss leaned onto his hand on the desk for support. "But besides that, our expansion is meeting up resistance from the nearby gangs that wouldn't want us to push out."

"And why is that?"

Boss sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. David took this to reply for him.

"We don't have enough men. While we made reforms, recruitment is not quite… Meeting the satisfactory level we expect it to be."

"Huh… How many did we get?"

"About a dozen greenies, currently training." David informed. "And while the rest of our regulars are dealing with the fronts at the moment, holding the line. We can't exactly push too far otherwise we'd lose men. I don't doubt our boys, but taking on the gangs is… not quite something I want to risk them for. Especially the greenies, I aint sending them to die the moment they joined us. Even if I would, Mark wouldn't give. Darn cold to do that sort of shit." He muttered slightly in the near end.

"Soooo… Want me to break several groups then? Cause' you know I can do that for sures."

"We don't doubt that for real." David offered diplomatically. "But what we meant is that…"

"Ya be causing too much of a fucking fire for us to control if you keep spreading the damn fuel around like a fucking wild fire." Boss said carelessly as he leaned on his chair, sipping on his flask. Contents filled with alcohol for sure. "We'd either burn our shit off, or lose our shit from it."

"And we wouldn't want both."

"Meaning…? What?" Cell tilted his head, not getting the idea…

The Boss sighed like a tired old man, while David simply responded.

"Expanding our turf would mean we'd be getting down by the rival and other tougher gangs that have a hold in the city. We'd be starting a war if we do so."

"And we'd get our asses fucked over by the police, the cartel, and whatever else is out there god forbid; the fucking Justice League or any of the worrisome shits out there, on our face because of a fucking city-wide gang war in this city." Boss grimaced as he took another sip on his flask.

"…We wouldn't want that, would we?" Speaking the obvious there Mr obvious.

"Didn't I, we, just fucking explained it to you?" Boss said irritatingly, a vein ticking on his forehead.

"I know you did, but what I mean is," Cell leaned forward. "Now, how about I take care of them myself?"

"Did you not hear what we just said?" David frowned.

"Yeah, I heard you. Both of you." Cell shrugged. "But it wouldn't hurt on getting rid of our neighbors from our fronts, it would at least lessen any breakouts from them. And besides, it's not like we're looking to take the damn city for ourselves. Not yet at least, but it's too soon. What I'm planning to do is just simply… a pest control."

"…*Sigh*. You're really not going to change your damn mind from now, would you?" Boss said resignedly.

"Nope!" Cell smirked. "And besides, I didn't say "kill them all" now did I?"

"…You're planning to make them join us?" David asked, almost surprised. Boss narrowing his eyes at the idea.

"Well… While I'm considering wiping them out, having too much blood in the streets in this part of town would bring unwanted attention that would be impossible for anyone to ignore. And while I don't mind violence, I rather have that be the last thing I'd do. What could possibly hurt by asking them to join us?" Cell shrugged.

"Many, many fucking things." Boss growled. "One of the things would be are trust and loyalty, not to forget competence, and I don't trust any of those fucks aside from us. Big chances they'll backstab us at the moment they got, not when we got some beef from them… But we're expanding so wide that we lack the men to control the turf around… Fucking hell…" He groaned, resenting at the idea. "Fine, do your thing. But—!" Was what he said, and before Cell could stand up and leave, Boss went on to delivering a nasty glare and pointing at Cell's face. "Make it fucking clean."

"I'll try," He raised his hands defensively. "But I'mma say; I can't really guarantee it 100%."

"Just try damn it." Was all Boss could mutter a reply back.

Before Boss and David could reply back, Cell had left the room almost immediately after that.

"…Many times, I wonder why we still have that… dense-headed fuck in." Boss sighed as he massaged his temple from the stress he was inhabiting.

"I don't think it's much of a choice for him to leave now do we? And besides, he managed to procure an arsenal for us." David said. "Whatever he is planning, or intentions for staying, we can only prefer him to be against our enemies. Not us."

"…I hate when you're being right." Boss grouchily said as he fumbled on his flask.

"Would you prefer me to being wrong then?"

Boss didn't answer that response as he chugged down his flask empty.

. . .

. . .

They were on their way towards one of the fronts where they had a hard time punching through one of the gangs. Doing so they went on in all their firepower to do so. Once more, they resorted back into their armor, much to the members' glee and excitement of using their own gear once more. Only this time, in a true firefight.

"You sure this is gonna work?" Tactical Thug #2, suited in their gear with the gang colors modified into their equipment. Keeping his MP5 close, ready for a moment's notice.

"Well, this is the reason we are doing this to find out." Cell hummed as he triple checked his outfit one more time.

"It's a dumb idea. Also, why the change of look?" Tactical Thug #2 examined his new apparel.

"Ever imagine having your clothes riddled with holes and trying to buy new ones?" Cell glanced back with an answer.

"Oh… Understandable." Tactical Thug #2 nodded his head in understanding.

He had been through at least four shirts and coats with holes in them. And fixing them up the local tailor would put up questions, enough money would shut them up, but it was still annoying to have them fixed time to time.

It is also true he could have used his equipment, but it provided the attention he didn't like so he kept it in his inventory. He could switch back to it once shit hits the fan or in emergencies anyways.

So, he changed up his wardrobe. Although there were some mild changes and additions.

Gone with the coat — as it wouldn't really provide anything but drip and coolness, but given the situation, it wouldn't be practical —, he wore a black tank top instead. A black vest, and some tactical joint-pads. Still keeping his mask as he thought he'd look badass while being a scary mofo at the same time.

The gear wasn't really necessary for him to wear, but given the suggestions from some members of the gang, a small deceptive appearance to have him be some kind of a brute. And they'll be surprised to see that he wasn't just some kind of a brute.

"Why not just go shirtless?" Tactical Thug #4 suggested. "Would save you the hassle."

"Hey, gotta have some decency around the place." Cell retorted lightly. "Hate going shirtless around places that would make me seem… Like a exhibitionist."

"You're literally looking like a Mr Olympian bodybuilder, I doubt anyone would give a damn of you being shirtless." Tactical Thug #3 quipped with a small bit of sas.

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't go around shirtless. The tanktop is enough."

"Technically still shirtless because your muscles are looking through the damn top." Tactical Thug #3 commented.

"Once we're done, remind me to workout because damn…" Tactical Thug #2 looked at his own body, feeling sadden and emboldened at the same time.

"You never worked out in your entire life!" Tactical Thug #4 said, making the crew laughed so loud that Tactical Thug #2 couldn't make a reply.

"Alright, shut the fuck up! We're here." Tactical Thug #1 exclaimed, cementing the deed for Tactical Thug #2 unable to bite back the reply.

Everyone did one last check on their equipment before they arrived at a street that is near their location. It would be dumb if they actually stepped out in the hot zone and immediately getting shot.

"Alright, so… Cell in the front, rest of us are god damn rats and survive. Capche'?" Tactical Thug #1

The gangsters gave their affirmatives before moving in towards their designated routes around the place, with Cell simply walking towards the entrance of their target.

Their target is the base or hideout of the Blood Eels gang. Something that no one would bother to remember once they are gone.

His approach was reckless, careless, seemingly without any plan. But that was the catch. The plan was no plan… For him at least.

The bunch of the Blood Eels wore red and black, although their significant color was darker shades than the Red Serpents wore less darker variations for their colors. And to avoid confusion as well, they wore a red cloth on their shoulders.

And also they are more ruthless and cruel than the Serpents.

Cell's approach was finally noticed, shouts came around from the gangsters as the ones outside came with guns at the ready.

"Hold it right there! Take another step, we'll shoot your dumbass!" One ganger armed with a shotgun, shouted.

Cell humored them by heeding their warning. By the time he stopped, he eyed about a dozen guns aimed right at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to walk around the Blood Eel turf? You're lucky we didn't shoot your dumbass!" The ganger exclaimed with such fierceness along with disgust of spit splattering all over.

"I'd say you're the lucky ones who didn't decide to shoot, otherwise all of you would die." Cell said calmly and loudly over the bunch.

"…You think you're funny?" The ganger glared. "Coming all over without a piece but a kid's wear. I think you're a funny dumbass!" He snorted.

"No, I'm Mr X." He replied casually. "And I'm here to ask for your surrender."

"…"

"…"

"…Hahahahahahaha!"

The gangers around laughed as if they heard a good joke.

"Alright, funny guy. I really think you've had a death wish."

"Kinda don't. Not yet at least, still haven't experienced much of this world yet to kill myself." He scratched h

The ganger looked more annoyed than amused now.

"Alright, time for you to shut the fuck up!"

*BANG*

"…"

*THUD*

Everyone blinked as to see the Cell still standing up after being shot even with a vest on, he was supposed to be hit in the head, he should have gone down from that! But instead of him, it was the one who shot him.

The gangers looked at their now dead comrade in disbelief.

"So," Cell called their attention once more. "If you wish to live, surrender. If not…" He smiled. "Then by all means… Shoot me."

"AHHHHHHHH!"

It was by an instant he stated, all guns shot at once. And at once, those who shot instantly went down, lifeless and cold. Blood pooled out from them, as to how they died… It looked like they got shot.

A mere couple gangers who hadn't fired their guns simply stared at their now lifeless fellows on the ground. They trembled as they aimed their guns at the interloper. They want to fire, but seeing those who shot, died…

Instead the ones still living threw their guns, either fled from the scene or cowered in fear. Either way, they lost their spirit. They were the lucky ones…

"Aww, darn shame. Idiots really want to commit blood…" Cell shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh well, might as well get this over with." He sighed as he approached the door of the hideout. He heard gunshots not too far from him. Meaning the others have started the moment shit went down…

He entered the building and saw another batch of gangers aiming at him.

"Might you fellas be willing to live?" He tried once more, and received a similar answer from the previous situation…

Every single one who fired their first shot, immediately dropped dead on the ground in a bloody, unexpected fashion.

Ignoring the bodies, and the stragglers who still lingered around in cowering fear along with the few bunch who fired upon him to die in return. He tread along the building until he saw the boss of the Blood Eels. A typical gangster with tattoos of an Eel around his nude body. The only catching feature of him was simply his weapon of choice, a sword and a pistol.

Uncommon for a ganger to use such an arsenal. But with the amount of weapon caches hidden around the city — like the ones in the warehouses being stored for unknown periods of time — it wouldn't be out of the possibility he got it from them. Although the sword seemed to be engraved with etches and markings around the blade.

"You got balls to walk like you own the place. Not to mention, killing my boys." The boss said in naked fury.

"They killed themselves, I tried to get them to surrender. They didn't listen of course, and so they died." He shrugged.

"Of course, a metahuman like you wouldn't give a damn!" The man aimed and shot at Cell. Immediately upon impact shot at the head, the ganger's head spurt out blood of a hole that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He went down a step forward before falling motionless with a pool of blood slowly seeping from his sudden wound.

"…Aw fuck, I forgot to turn off the passive and ask him where he got the sword from!" Cell facepalmed at his own carelessness. "Argghhhh, fuck sakes…" He mumble-groaned.

Groaning at his mistake, he went towards the corpse and picked up the sword. A broadsword to be specific. The moment he picked it up, it glowed in bright blue.

'Oooo… Shiny…' He thought as he looked over the blade in naive wonder before appraising it. He frowned in disappointment.

The weapon gives out a buff in resistance and attack bonus towards living. However…

'Top Class? Seriously? So shit…' He thought before giving it a look over. 'Hmmmm… I wonder if the guys would like this?' He hummed before chucking it into his inventory. It is ultimately useless to him, but for the others, they could work better with it than him.

And with that, continued on his journey of checking around the place.

. . .

The operation went on along towards raiding several more gang turfs, ridding them off of potential threats in the later future, as well as preparing to expand their own turf.

Of course, this didn't go unnoticed as other gangs became more agitated by this act from a minor gang who went up active now. They haven't done any major action, so to them, this is surprising.

Cell had left those who had lost their will to fight or surrendered, but those ones numbered good enough for his pair of hands to count. Low enough that the rumors of a merciless masked brute — that most would assume he was some Bane-wannabe but without the Venom — was that he brought a bloody rampage against the gangs around their turf.

It made most of them carefully choose their actions, the Blood Eel gang may not be big, but they are ruthless enough to gain a notorious reputation. And the gang being wiped out?

Times' changing…

. . .

. . .

The team had gotten their rest for a couple of days, barring the two only members — that being Superboy and M'gann — staying in Mount Justice for their break. Not that they can't help it since there is no other place for them to go anyways.

M'gann was pouring her attention towards cooking, trying to be better at it. She was curious how she would be able to make Earth's culinary, various kinds of dishes compared back home on Mars!

While she didn't mind trying out cooking, her entire mind was not set to it right of now.

Her mind tends to recall that time during their not-so-well-done mission at the island, where they had encountered that stone figure… And Superboy's bloodied form pictured in her mind.

She couldn't help but be bothered about that. Not to mention the pain she felt from Superboy's mind.

It was terrifying…

She didn't notice until she had been stirring the mix for quite awhile that it had lost its fluffiness.

"Oh shoot…" She stopped and quickly set to bake it out. She can probably still save it… Maybe? It did look fine, however, that will only wait until she tasted them. She was curious to see if she had improved compared to her initial stages of baking cookies…

After setting them into the oven, Superboy made his presence in silence… He was still getting used to how to do… nothing really. Rest days feel awkward for him.

"Hey, I'm making cookies!"

"…Ok." He replied as he went to sit by the couch, though he didn't turn on the tv but just simply… Sitting and staring at the black screen in awkward silence.

"…Do you want me to help you with that?" The Martian teen inquired.

"…No." He stubbornly denied. But M'gann knew he didn't actually mean being rude. Only unsure what to say and again, stubbornly refused any help.

It didn't irritate the Martian teen, it only made her amused. Knowing Superboy's attitude when it comes to being "normal" on things around Mount Justice. She had a feeling he'll come around.

"So, um… Do you want to help me out with cooking?"

"…No." He said a little more softly this time. "It would probably happen like last time."

She had no objection to that, she understood what he meant. He went to help her one time, only resulting in her carelessness on botching the cooking and ended the kryptonian clone in flour and eggs.

It was a funny and embarrassing recall to that moment.

"Yeah, probably." Her face turned slightly red while glancing away in shamefulness. "Well, here."

She then telepathically turned on the TV and switched the channel to one she'd guessed would put him entertained.

"Wouldn't want you to stare at a nothingness for most of the time now would we?" She smiled.

"…Thanks." Superboy said it would sound the same as how he usually speaks, but she'd come to know more of his attitude and personality on and on.

For now, everything is fine. But deep in her mind that things will not stay the same. Especially how the last mission went. She is still in need of training… She needed to get stronger.