Alright, let's get this mess of an intermission over with. This chapter basically speaks of my inability to juggle all the major stuff happening in Round 2. Lol. Let's do this.
While the tournament action continued, their own stories continued as well. These are the chronicles of the few, the brave, the chosen, who inadvertently hold the fate of Munich, Germany, in their own hands...
CHAPTER 1: WHERE IS ADELHEID BERNSTEIN?
THE SKY NOAH
Rose scoured the vast recesses of their flying fortress, their home, close to flipping over tables in an attempt to find him. His bedroom, the countless bathrooms, recreational rooms, the gym... nowhere to be found.
"Adelheid! ADELHEEEEEEID!"
...There was one other place. It had become little more than a glorified mausoleum, a preserve, to secure his once-legacy, a piece of his spirit, upon their home. They never went there, unless things were heavy... had it really come to that? Had SHE... driven them to that?
With a deep exhale, she made her way to the place in question. Her footsteps carried her with a careful anxiety, until she found herself outside the door. She was slow to place her hand on the knob. Finally, after a second to muster, she at last opened...
...There he was. Sitting in one of two chairs stationed in the room: a room adorned with tapestries, a regal red rug with golden patters displayed on the mahogany floor. several fine bookshelves, but no books.
And, sitting on the wall, the main attraction of the room... standing 144 inches tall... an oil painting of their father, Rugal Bernstein, a genuine smile on his face, his beloved panther Rodem next to him. Rugal's hand was placed dotingly on its back.
Adelheid noticed Rose's presence, but said nothing. He continued to look only ahead, at the memorial displayed in front of him, somber eyes locked on the delicate craft...
"Brother!" Rose shouted to get his attention... to no avail. Even if he was listening, he refused to turn around and acknowledge her.
Never one to take being ignored sitting down, she slowly sauntered into the room, making only tender steps, in honor of the sanctity of the room. Finally, she made her way to the chair adjacent to his, and sat down.
They shared a solemn, sacred silence for a few minutes, in respect of the great man displayed on the wall before them... before Rose finally broke the silence:
"I've really messed up, haven't I?"
Adelheid closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It's not your fault."
"It's bad enough evil forces were after you and I... but now our people are dying."
He at last took his eyes away from the painting, to look at her. "Germany needs us, Rose. It needs... me."
Rose turned to him, eyes widening. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I...I'm sorry..." Adelheid softened a bit. "But I can't afford to fight in the tournament right now. Not while this killer roams our streets, spilling blood."
Rose was immediately reduced to a panic. "B-brother no! I-I've got it handled! Your wounds! You... you're not healthy enough to... p-please just go back to the Stadium! I've arranged everything, to make sure you-"
She made sure to quickly cut herself off at that last part. She hoped he didn't catch on; his reaction wasn't quite gauged yet on that matter.
"You should give somebody else a chance, Rose." Adelheid argued. "Give someone my entry card. This... this is REAL duty. I have to go fight for real stakes: to protect the lives of our people!"
"NO!"
Adelheid slightly tensed up at the loudness of her voice: a clear sign that she was about to unleash one of her classic temper tantrums. She did just that.
"You... you promised me, brother!" Rose wailed. "You promised you'd win for me! I-I've put too much time and planning into... uhh... I've already hired someone to take care of that killer!"
Adelheid frowned. "You'd hire some mercenary to solve our problem, while we play sports? Do you have any idea what that'd do to our reputation?! But if WE... if I save our people..."
"You have to win the competition!" Rose screeched. "It's not just for fun, Adelheid! It's so that Chizuru will finally shut the-"
"ROSE."
She winced at the sharpness of her brother's tone, barking her name. She was usually one to win such arguments, but occasionally... very seldom... he could shout in such a way it subdued her.
"...I am putting my foot down." Adelheid's tone wasn't loud... but lethally assertive. "I want you to go back to the Stadium. Run the tournament. Keep the people entertained. I'm going out there... and I'm stopping that killer, before he murders anymore men, women, or children. Am I clear?"
Rose mustered one last meek retaliation. "B-but brother..."
"AM. I. CLEAR?"
"...Yes. B-brother." she whimpered.
He rose up sharply, and she recoiled... but he approached her not with a strict demeanor, but with affection, as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"I love you." he whispered. "I'll be back soon."
She continued sitting, even after he left the room, shutting the door behind him. When he was gone... she looked down at her lap. Her fists curled.
"Damnation. This puts a wrench in things. I've got to figure this out... think, Rose, think..."
Her hands rose up, to bury her face. She rubbed up and down... but the crevasse between her two fingers opened, and one fierce eye peeked through.
"I ALWAYS get my way... dear brother."
CHAPTER 2: DARK BOUT POST-MORTEM
Despite an early lesson from Kasumi Todoh, that loss only fueled Khushnood Butt to fight harder. The odds seemed astronomical at times... but here he was. The King of Fighters Twilight Tournament. He was here, with the chance of a lifetime... to take the vacant spot in Round 2, and advance one step closer to his destiny: representing Kyokugenryu by winning KOF gold, and winning that 2 and a half mil.
"Khushnood circles around, he throws a kick!" he heard some commentator on the sideline say. Shut up, dude.
Suddenly... stars. He didn't even see what hit him: just a massive blunt force, and a distortion of colors. He went down to a knee.
"OHHH D TAGS HIM WITH A RIGHT! BUTT IS DROPPING!"
No... not like this. Ryo was waiting for him. He had to stand with his brother. He had to avenge Robert and Yuri!
He rose back to his feet; with a powerful kiai, he unleashed a teep kick into Heavy D's stomach, visibly jarring the boxer, as he was nearly planted on his backside by it.
Butt kept swinging. Left roundhouse, right roundhouse... he spun around with a third kick to the midsection.
"Fierce kicks from Butt! D is blocking them well, and he counters with a hard shot!"
Damn, his boxing was crisp. A left hook found Butt's cheek clean, and the Brazilian's head snapped back like a candy dispenser. It was no surprise... Heavy D was a veteran of King of Fighters. A scorned competitor, forever out of reach of the glory. But that always motivated him to fight harder. To rise above the ridicule, his status as a one-off joke.
"KOUKEN! KOUKEN!" Butt unleashed his fireballs one after the other, and used the split second of defense to close in.
"BUTT IS COMING ON STRONG! HE'S LAUNCHING PROJECTILES TO GET IN CLOSE! D MIGHT BE IN TROUBLE HERE!"
This was it... Butt was right on top of D, prepared to hammer down on him. One fell swoop was all he needed-
"OHHH look at that. A smooth takedown for D. Guy may be a boxer, but we can't forget those wrestling chops."
...Stupid! He DID forget that; Heavy D wasn't just a Golden Gloves winner, but an All-American in his college years. Butt forgot that, and he was helpless as D changed levels, shot at his legs, scooped him up, and dumped him.
Butt was NOT staying here: taking a page from Kasumi's book, he wrapped his legs around D's arm and threatened an armbar, but used it to sweep instead, throwing D to the ground and buying him time to get back up.
"HIYAH!" he gave D no quarter; as soon as the boxer tried to stand up, Butt cracked him with a picture-perfect kick, using the kiai from his lungs to channel energy to his muscles. Heavy D was on roller skates... his end looked near.
Butt's chi manifested, until he glowed with a powerful yellow aura... he brought his hands together, focusing the chi to one specific area, to channel a huge blast..
"HAO...SHO..."
"Butt is preparing a huge blast. HIS FINISHING MOVE!"
This was it: one thrust of his palms, and victory was his. Round 2, right around the corner. To stand with his comrade Ryo Sakazaki, and fight in the name of Kyokugen... there was no greater honor.
"Wait...what is this? What is this?! Ross, an unidentified stranger has just entered the rin-"
...Heat. Scorching, pulsing, into his chest. He felt his blood scream out to a boil. His mouth opened... but as an airy choke rang out, it felt like venom pooling inside him...
He looked down... red... his white gi was red? No... this couldn't be... he was winning. How?
Suddenly, the pain got ten times worse; it felt like a tremendous weight, ripping into him, enough to spin his entire body around. When his eyes fixated forward... he saw only abyss.
Hollow. Empty. Devoid of humanity. Past the irises... a desolate landscape.
Butt collapsed to his knees... as he saw his own blood drip from the fingers of the intruder. It was the last thing he saw before darkness took him.
"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD THIS IS HORRIBLE! THE CONTESTANTS ARE DOWN!"
Heavy D had stood no chance either. "Who the f*** are you?!"
The boxer had tried to rush the assailaint, only for the pale man to press a hand to his head, vault completely over the boxer, until he ended up behind him... and he spun around and swiftly impaled his fingers into the man's chest. Heavy D let loose a ragged and harsh rasp, as he collapsed facedown.
"THERE'S BLOOD EVERYWHERE! OH JESUS SOMEBODY STOP THE BROADCAST! CUT AWAY FROM IT! OH GOD HE'S COMING TOWARDS US!"
The commentators appropriately fled for their lives. Luckily, this mysterious man had no sense of urgency, almost like pursuit was a game to him... something to be savored, prolonged...
Luckily, he had no particular target in mind, so the commentators got away clean, and left a trembling Hyena standing ringside. The intruder locked his eyes on the big-nosed man...
Hyena, ever a master bluffer, tried to play it cool. He stepped forward, grinning. "Hehe! I'm not scared of you. Trust me, I've seen true terror: she's got blonde hair and massive knockers. Gimme your best shot!"
...All it took was one step forward to shatter that shell instantly, and Hyena fell to his knees, cowering behind raised arms.
"D-D-D-DON'T HURT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
He walked with no urgency, menacing, looming steps... the blood of his victims continuing to drip from his fingers. Hyena had all the time in the world to flee, but pure terror paralyzed him to the bones. He could only sit there, trembling... until it was too late: a shadow loomed over head, and he looked up to see a mop of red hair... and two colorless voids.
"H-haaah... no... not like this... not after everything!" Hyena sobbed. "DUKE! HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
The hand raised high; a sickening crack as the fingers flexed, positioning themselves to thrust...
"GET ON THE GROUND NOW!"
The kill never came; several uniformed personnel ran out onto the field. The brave man in front, wielding a retractable baton, struck the intruder across the head, sending him reeling in a very creepy fashion, his body shambling and dancing, almost like the living dead...
"Secure the announcer!' the lead man barked, as he continued towards the intruder. He was flanked by two others. "Let's take him."
The security leader stepped in, took another swipe towards the head... this move would be his last. The intruder, with inhuman hands, like precision instruments, parried the baton with his naked left, spun around... with his right, he came across the stomach, cleaving the flesh like butter.
Thank god the cameras were off; the sight of the security squad leader falling over, precious components of his anatomy no longer within him, would have been damning enough to cancel the tournament.
"Oh my god!"
"Jesus, this guy's not human!"
One man flanked his left; the other right. The one on the left swung at him; the killer swayed his head to dodge it, and the right man swung as well... the killer timed the arrival of the man's arm...
"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...!" the right man squealed in agony as the baton fell from his hands. He looked at his arm in horror; he could see five digits, peeking clean through the flesh and muscle and bone, stained with red.
Another sharp thrust to his throat. A guttural gasp. The right man collapsed to the floor, choking on his own blood.
The left man, having witnessed his two comrades die, immediately kicked into survival mode; dropping the baton to the ground, he whipped out his Beretta and fired.
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!
Seven bullets riddled the killer's body, as he convulsed and twitched with each impact, finally going down to the seventh round. He hit the floor.
Shaky, trembling fingers on the trigger. The last survivor of the three guards slowly inched towards the still body, gun fixated on him. He was unmoving, not even the slightest of chest movements to indicate breathing. The pale skin didn't help matters; he looked DEAD.
He inched closer. A glob of saliva nearly choked him; he swallowed it. Sweat formed on his temple. A sharp, hot breath.
Closer... closer... he kept one hand aiming, and knelt down with his other hand to check the puls-
"GAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHGKkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkhgghgklllllllllllllll..."
Several loose, sloppy shots rang out, as the man suddenly found himself gurgling bloody bubbles. His precious red spilled from his mouth as the hand in his chest carved upwards... seeking the heart... a trophy.
The killer rose up. Three bodies lay at his feet.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GUY?!"
More security guards had flooded in as backup, but once they saw this anomaly of biology take seven bullets, only to rise up and cut a man's heart out... they were done. Their guns couldn't even stay straight, as they wobbled so violently, some even slipped from their grasp.
As the killer approached the horrified guards, an imposing figure pushed his way through the garrison, shoving them aside, until he made his way to the front. The guards finally found the courage to flee, leaving only Silber there to subdue the assailant.
Not that he minded. Silber's red eye glowed menacingly, as a sickening grin crept upon his jagged teeth. He tilted his neck slighty... a series of rhythmic cracks rang out.
"You're not getting out of here alive." Silber grunted, getting into fighting stance, planting his foot so fiercely, it produced a shockwave.
The killer said nothing. He merely stood there, arms to his side, upper body twitching creepily... his hair draped over his emotionless face.
Silber took a deep step; with a fierce grunt, he swung a vicious palm at the killer's head; the man swayed to dodge, then dodged the following strike... for such a zombie-like man, he was light on his feet.
After missing the first two strikes, Silber mixed it up, cutting low with a sweep kick; he missed, but he reversed his fortunes by swiftly switching mid with a front kick. He nailed the killer in the stomach, then spun around to double up with a second kick to the same area. The double kick hurt the killer, causing his head to dip low in recoil...Silber snatched him by the top, drew his hand back... and unleashed a thunderous chop to his face. The first one reduced the killer's legs to rubber... the second one floored him, as Silber let go of the man's garment.
Surprisingly, the killer rose up: slowly, creepily contorting his body with unnatural movements, like a palm tree being tested in rough winds.
Silber braced himself as the killer charged, swinging his hands with a slashing, blood red-aura. Silber raised his arm to defend the first strike, as it left a diagonal streak across his flesh, from the wrist, all the way to the elbow.
The killer swung at his head, prompting a dodge, but the killer followed up with a spinning strike behind it, and Silber had to jump back to avoid the chest slash.
The killer stayed persistent, LEAPING at Silber with his arms flailing in a windmill motion. The right hand slightly cleaved below the shoulder: the left cut Silber across the face, below his eye.
"Rrgh!" Silber grunted angrily as he stepped forward, to meet the next attack head-on; the killer thrust towards his throat, but Silber caught the wrist, wrenching the arm upwards.
A systematic combo followed: a backhand chop to the ribs, a short kick to the calf, a second kick to the knee, a sharp twist of the captured arm, to manipulate the head lower... a punishing kick to the lowered head, and Silber at last used the seized arm to flip the killer to the ground.
He rushed the struggling killer without fear, as the mystery man still had his back turned, struggling to get back up.
"DIE!"
He thought he had a clear shot... he didn't expect the back-turned man to suddenly dip low, ducking under his mighty punch.
SLAAAAAASH!
Silber grunted; insides flaring up, a new heat searing his stomach. He looked down: a fresh cut on his abdomen, pooling red at the surface.
He merely smiled.
Silber lunged at the killer , throwing rapid hand strikes, mixing it up with a kick at the end: the killer bobbed his head out of the way, sidestepped the kick... and presented his hand to Silber's neck.
"Hngh?! NGAAAAAAAH!"
Silber felt it: the hand slide across his neck so smooth, so easily... and he felt acid sting his flesh immediately after. Liquid heat trickled, and he knew without even touching the area, his blood was falling. If his skin weren't so thick, that could have been his jugular...!
Silber took his focus from the pain, and looked forward: the red-haired man was rushing him, fingers extended like a spear, going for the kill. Silber's fighting instincts screamed to stop him.
At the very apex, as the fingers were mere centimetres from his throat...Silber slammed a palm into the killer's stomach, freezing him on the spot. He quickly hooked a foot behind the killer's ankle, stumbling him... as his head went low, like it was on a chopping block, Silber raised his hand, gave a mighty yell, and did just THAT: a monstrous chop to the neck, flooring him at that spot.
Silber didn't let up. He snatched the killer by his long mane, lifted him slightly... a forearm crashed across his spine, flattening him into the dirt, complete with a huge dust cloud from the impact.
The killer lay completely still.
Pleased with his handiwork, Silber postured up, straightening his green gi. His hand unconsciously rubbed the deep laceration on his neck; to make him bleed like that... this man was something.
He checked his other cuts for a while, before his eyes lingered back down to confirm...WHAT?!
Gone.
"How in the...?!"
Silber's confused eyes assaulted the perimeter, scanning for any sign of him; that's when he saw it. A few lingering strands of red hair, flickering away into the exit. Despite taking one of Silber's best beatings, the killer somehow had the strength to escape into the night.
Anger flooded the stoic man. Not for the wounds he suffered. Not for the lives lost, laying dead before him. No... he let his prey get away. Unacceptable.
A ferocious bellow emitted from Silber's lungs as he brought his foot against the ground in an angry stomp. The force of his foot was so massive, he was buried to the ankle.
"If that fur-wearing guy hadn't been there to hold him off..." Khushnood groaned weakly at the mere effort to muster a sentence. "We'd be... dead..."
"What did Freeman do next?" Vanessa interrogated.
"He..." Butt stopped to cough a few times, the pain so great he had to shut his eyes tight with a wince before continuing. "He was fired upon by Stadium security, but the bullets... urrrrrgh... he's not... human. I swear he got hit, but he still ran through the guards... some of them... didn't make it..."
"And then he just ran off into the city?" Ramon asked.
"Yeah... now he's rampaging, cutting people down... somebody has to stop him..."
Vanessa turned to Ramon. "I'm hating this more with each word. We gotta go get our girl back. She's out there, by herself, trying to hunt this guy..."
"You don't have to tell ME." Ramon back-sassed. "I'll go... but Jesus, Vanessa, you're wearing a neck brace."
Vanessa placed her hand on the paltry thing. "This? Doubt I even need it."
"You shouldn't even be out of the hospital."
"Sorry, but you ain't Seth. You're not out-ranking me." Vanessa winked.
An eyeroll. "Fine, let's go."
"That's more like it."
"...I would like to see you in a hospital gown again, bonita~"
"Shut up."
With a reluctant mutual understanding, Ramon and Vanessa took their leave, heading for the door.
"WAIT!" Butt's voice managed a high volume, but he immediately groaned in pain afterwards. They turned to face him: sweat was pouring from him as he spoke this ominous message:
"This guy... Freeman. I've dealt with him before. If there's one thing I know, it's that he's psychotic. He has nothing, NOTHING but a void inside him. He's a GURU of death. He's relentless, unhinged... and he won't stop. EVER. The only way you're gonna stop him... is to make him quit breathing."
EPISODE 3: HOT PURSUIT
"FREEMAN! Where are you, you son of a bitch?!"
Every step... danger. The shroud of night held infinite mystery. Was he at that corner? Around the building? Hiding in an alley? The terror of the unknown, of knowing he could ambush her at any spot, put the slightest of hesitant steps in her feet...
She stopped. She repeatedly placed her hand on the grip of her holstered handgun, practicing her quickdraw. She didn't prefer the use of weapons... but this wasn't a sporting competition right now. This was REAL. Either he killed her, or she killed him... and she was going to make damn sure she went back to her family tonight.
Night still young. Trail still fresh. Every minute not catching Freeman was a minute people could be dying... especially if the terrified spectators at the Coliseum fled into the night. These details all factored into the urgency in her step, as well as the thin sheen of sweat starting to form on her hairline.
She knelt down beside Anton, diligently pressing the strand of recovered hair to his nose. "Cmon Anton, give me something sweetie..."
She knew he was doing the best he could... but she was urgent to have this over. She missed Terry... she missed the comfort they were sharing. She was desperate to return to that warmth; the chill of this horrid night was evaporating it from her body, enough to make her shiver.
His ears perked. His head shot up, tail standing erect.
A hopeful jolt in her chest. "You got something, boy?!"
Anton started sprinting.
The memories of last night were still raw inside her... her failure to finish the job, when she had a bead on him. He got away... and now more people have died today as a result. Those deaths weighed more heavy on her than the ones of night's past, knowing that SHE could have prevented them. Her, personally.
She looked down at the gun, secure in the unstrapped holster. Her fingers tapped impatiently against it. She suddenly thought of the past, of those days she considered turning that gun on herself. She thought those days, those dark thoughts were long transcended... how strange that it came back to her in this particular moment.
"WOOF!"
A spirited bark from Anton shocked her out of her malaise. He must have sensed the turmoil inside her... good boy.
"Cmon Anton." she spoke softly to him. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."
The duo continued to scour the city, which was still very much alive, despite the recent happenings: bustling groups of people, law enforcement, helicopters whizzing overhead. The robotic murmurings of walkie-talkies abuzz:
"Negative ID on the target. It's not him."
"This is Charlie 2-1. We've swept sector 7. No sign of the suspect."
"We're sending a unit down into the sewers. We'll report back in 15."
Ignorant fools. Freeman would never hide in the sewers. There's no people there. Even wounded, his one-track mind would compel him only forward, to fulfill his demented destiny... the fruitlessness of the police force was further proof that only she was qualified to nail this guy. Only she knew his element... his way of thinking. He would always seek public places, but at the same time, flock to darkness: secluded areas, ambush spots, where he could catch prey unawares.
She whipped out her phone, activating her map of Munich. Her finger danced across the screen as she narrated to her dog.
"He's wounded, and he doesn't drive. He might have gotten maybe a couple hours of leg time, tops. If we continue north here on Keltenweg, we can cut the grid almost in half-"
"HYAHYAHYAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHOHOHOHOOO!"
A maniacal, jester-like laugh interrupted them. Mary and Anton poked their heads up; Anton immediately started growling at the unwelcome presence before them.
A sickening grin on his red-painted lips. It was Joker.
"You..." Mary half-gasped. "You're that guy from the Stadium! You're the one who took Rose hostage...!"
A flamboyant curtsy. "Guilty as charged, HYEEHYEEHYEEHAAHAHAHOO! And now I'm here to do something about YOU!"
Her hand crept to her gun... no. She didn't need it to deal with this guy.
He grabbed his comical nose and gave it a pull. "We can't have you interfering with our boy on his campaign of carnage! So now... GET READY TO PERISH!"
Anton wanted to leap at him; Mary got in front of him, narrowing her eyes, to anticipate the oncoming attack.
Joker roller-skated towards her, laughing maniacally. He drew his hammer, cocked it back, prepared to swing...
"DIE, PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG!"
He swung; Mary easily sidestepped it and seized the offending arm, bending it behind Joker's back. A pained yelp, followed by the weapon hitting the ground.
"Auuugh! AUUUUUGHHHHHH!"
Before even asking a question, Mary slightly cranked on the arm, just to solidify she was dead serious. After another howl from the clown, she finally interrogated:
"Who are you working for?!"
"G-guh! Screw yourself with a nightstick!"
Wrong answer. Mary twisted the arm upwards, and draped a leg over it; performing a complete roll, she took Joker's body with her, and the two of them hit the ground flat, Joker now trapped in a crushing armbar.
"Aaaagh oww owwwww! Are you trying to rip my arm off?!" Joker squealed.
"Are you and Freman with that spear guy?"
"AAAAGH! Y-YESS! But he's gone rogue! He's a mindless animal!"
"Where is Freeman?"
"Agh... I can't... my money..."
"Where. Is. Freeman?"
"Ngh, nghaaah! You'll just have to break my arm!"
"Fine."
CRACKKKKKK! She torqued on the arm, followed by a sickening pop of bone. A blood-curdling screech resounded soon after.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YOU GODDAMN BITCH! YOU POPPED MY SHOULDER OUT OF PLACE!"
"WHERE IS FREEMAN?!" Mary screamed so loud, she nearly leaked from her mouth.
"HE...he made it as far as Ludwigstraße 22, but we haven't seen him since!"
Mary closed her eyes, recalling the map in her head. There was a... university near there? It couldn't be more than a 12 minute drive... and 2 hours if by foot.
Bingo.
"Thanks bud."
A kick to the jaw rendered Joker unconscious.
EPISODE 4: A REQUIEM OF INFINITY
Death is absolute.
An inevitable journey. A timeless terminus.
Death is rebirth.
New death brings new life. The cycle begins anew.
Death is freedom.
Salvation for the scorned. Respite for the riven.
Death is balance.
Life continues only when life ends.
"HEY! THERE HE IS!"
"Easy, Brian! We take him together! You go left, I go right."
"HEY! HEY PUNK! THIS IS FOR D!"
With these hands, I stitch the fabric of existence.
NEXT CHAPTER: The tournament action comes down to a boil! With four fights left, the stakes are higher than ever before. Who will rise up to oppose the Hakkeshu in Round 2 of this fated tournament? FIND OUT NEXT TIME!
But first...
BONUS SCENE
"Ngaaah! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! That damn bitch! Aghh! My shoulder is f***ed!"
Joker bellyached to his employers back at their hideout, clutching his arm in pain.
Shion wasn't particularly interested in his plight; Joker was less a pawn than dried animal droppings. Nonetheless, he was still breathing, which meant he could be put to use.
"Eiji, if you please..." Shion rolled his eyes.
The taciturn purple ninja approached Joker, who immediately retreated in fear.
"H-hey wait a minute now... w-wait a minute, are you a licensed-"
CRACKKKKKKKKK!
"AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH F***ING F*** F*** F*** STICK!"
Even Botan was getting sick of the guy, clutching her head as if suffering a massive headache from his bitching. Even after having his arm treated, Joker seemed genuinely angry this time... perhaps his breaking point had finally been reached.
"That is it. THAT IS IT! I'm cutting my losses! I'm done! The Looly Popo will find another big score! You guys have been nothing but trouble for me! I'm returning to my gang! I've just about had it with... thi...th...th..i...s...I...'ve...h...a..."
"Be quiet." Botan commanded, her voice still a rasp. "You will obey everything I tell you."
Joker, completely silent, nodded.
"You will keep your mouth shut. You and Eiji will run interference. Keep the law enforcement distracted."
A nod.
"Now go."