The Sewers

From his headquarters, Al observed the map of Bonesborough, crossing the t's and dotting the i's for every pathway the criminal scum make. His week and a half of night prowling has led him to conclude the paths seem to converge to two locations in the city: somewhere in the Emerald District and a nightclub in the city called 'Dionys Club.'

He narrowed his green eyes before grabbing a marker and circling around the location of the nightclub. He put it down, turning his body around to a crate in the corner of the room. He knows such a place would be heavily guarded, so it's best to come armed. He opened the box and examined the contents inside: Two unusual looking crossbows and a few cylindrical shapes

While not the weapons he was used to, he'll settle for them anyways. While he could always just conjure weapons in thin air, he preferred not too. It drained his necroplasm bit by bit and though this realm had much sin and evil he could recharge from, he would prefer not to become so carefree in using his powers so liberally. Lest he realizes he drained it faster than he could say "oops" and forfeit his soul back to Hell.

And he won't let that happen again.

He grabbed one of the two crossbows and one of the many strange, drum-like containers. Raising a brow at this unusual design, Spawn took a few seconds to observe it before instinct told him to load the container at the bottom of the crossbow like one would an assault rifle. Things were starting to connect. He fiddled with some levers and the string before aiming the crossbow at a stack of wooden crates and pulled the trigger.

VSH-VSH-VSH-VSH

With just one pull of the trigger, four bolts shot out of the weapon in rapid succession! Not once did Spawn have to pull back the string for each shot. To say he was surprised that he was holding a fully automatic crossbow would be an understatement. He took a glance at the crossbow in his hands and back at the four bolts embedded in the wooden crates.

Beneath his mask, he smiled.

These will do just nicely.

Dionys Club

Finding the club was easy. All he had to do was listen to the sounds of thumping music and sights of bright neon lights, with the occasional pointer from a terrified hobo or two. Before he knew it, he was perched over a building overlooking the club.

He leapt downwards, his cape letting him glide and softening his landing as he landed near the doorway. From inside his cloak, he drew two crossbows in his hands and took a look at the door, noting how it was slightly dented in the center, meaning it was made of metal.

The undead raised a foot and struck hard at the door, sending it flying and the smear that appeared when the door impacted against the wall let him know some poor schmuck was caught in the way. He took a few steps into the building, observing several figures gaze upon him in shock and fear.

"Knock knock."

Nobody responded to his line. They simply stared in stunned silence.

Showtime.

With reflexes as fast as lightning, Spawn aimed and pulled the trigger of his two crossbows, firing a flurry of arrows towards the guards. Most were unfortunate enough to be caught in the barrage, becoming pincushions, while a few others like Crowley took cover behind knocked over tables. Meanwhile, Tyran simply held up an arm to block his face as many of the bolts bounced off his armor or thick hide.

Tibbles was still in the ogre's hand, screaming along the way as he watched the arrows fly past him.

Spawn then holstered his crossbows and proceeded to charge forward towards the ogre, who couldn't dodge in time as the vigilante hit him with force comparable only to a charging Slitherbeast. Tibbles was let go from his hand as the impact knocked the wind out of the ogre and made him lose his grip.

Tibbles landed in a vase. Not on a vase. In a vase. His bulbous head got stuck inside and he desperately tried to get out, shaking his tiny legs in a fruitless attempt to escape.

Meanwhile, the ogre landed near the dance floor from the impact, his sudden appearance surprising several clubbers. The hunter got up, readjusting himself from the tough impact that even his armor could barely shield and seeing the Hellspawn head towards the dance floor.

Along the way, several thugs tried to stop him. One hit him with a baton in the head, the weapon breaking from the impact as it barely dazed him. He then grabbed the thug who hit him and tossed him towards a pillar. Another few thugs tried to dogpile him, but to no avail as the Hellspawn simply shook them off like a bad case of fleas.

The sudden violence made many of the clubbers back away from their tables. A distant four-eyed demon created a spell circle in his hands and aimed… before Spawn noticed and pulled out his crossbow, gently tapping the trigger and firing a three-burst arrow barrage that killed him in an instant. The spell circle ended up emitting a fireball that went off course and hit a wall. The noise of the explosion freaking out all the clubbers, the sounds of screams drowning out the music as they scrambled to emergency exits.

Spawn would have turned to fire at more incoming goons, when he felt a tug at his shoulder and went flying to the barroom, smashing into the display of glasses and drinks, shattering them into millions of pieces, his crossbows being flung off in the process.

As he rose up, he saw the culprit behind the sudden throw: the ogre, Tyran, who rushed towards him, giving him little time to recover as the ogre rushed with a leaping haymaker that Al barely dodged, letting the fist be embedded into the wall.

Tyran pulled his fist out of the wall and swung several punches at the Hellspawn, which he dodged or blocked out of his way. Then Tyran switched it up and gave the vigilante a kick, which sent him flying into the wall, embedding him into it. He was given no time to get out of the newly-formed hole, let alone recover from the kick as Tyran immediately delivered a flurry of strikes to his face and body, digging him deeper.

Eventually, the ogre grabbed Spawn out of the wall and tossed him out of the barroom and onto the dance floor, making him crash and knock into several encroaching thugs like bowling pins. Slamming a fist on the ground and leaping upwards, Spawn shook off the effects of the impacts as he grunted from the pain.

"I'm disappointed."

The growling voice of Tyran spoke to him in a condescending way as he approached the floor in a calm stride, "I have heard many reports about you. How you're able to massacre entire squadrons on your own, tear metal like it was paper and move as fast as lightning."

The ogre shook his head in a mocking manner, "I've yet to see if these reports were true."

Spawn slightly tilted his head at his words, "you want a fight with me?" He asked, receiving a nod from the ogre. He then got into a fighting stance, "then shut the fuck up and fight," he snarled.

Beneath his bony faceplate, Tyran smiled as he put up a fighting stance of his own.

Both charged with thrown fists, the collision between said fists creating a small shockwave and knocking them both back a foot or two before they charged again. The ogre threw a punch which Spawn dodged before sending a kick towards the hunter's face, dazing him.

In the distance, several thugs gathered to watch the fight, standing by with crossbows and spell circles at the ready in case Spawn decided to pull anything funny. Crowley also watched from a safe distance, surrounded by many bodyguards.

Regaining his footing, Tyran swung a hammer of a fist to Spawn's side, knocking him to the DJ station. Not hesitating for a second and ignoring the pain, Spawn leapt upwards to the stage and grabbed one of the largy speakers like it was made of feathers before tossing it at Tyran, where it impacted against his braced arms in a shower of sparks.

The brief moment where the ogre lowered his arms was enough for Spawn to leap and deliver one heck of a haymaker that connected with his face, shattering his bone faceplate to dust!

The thugs watching this reeled back in shock while Crowley widened his eyes.

Tyran was knocked several steps back, feeling his sore face and realizing his bone mask was gone. He then moved his jaw around a few times before spitting out a bloodied Mako Shark-like tooth on the ground. He gazed at the Hellspawn with a slight snarl and wiped away the blood dripping from his lip.

"Alright, then…" He muttered, his sharp and bloodstained teeth on full display.

Spawn made the first move by rushing the ogre, but Tyran caught him and raised his body upwards and drove it downwards to the floor, creating a small crater. After that, he tossed a few punches at the downed vigilante before tossing him to the DJ station again, this time, making him crash into an untouched large speaker, an explosion of sparks following the impact.

Tyran then leapt to the stage, knocking aside the controls with a simple swing of a fist. He went to Spawn to grab him, but the Hellspawn was prepared. He teleported behind the ogre in a flash of green light and grabbed him with both arms and leaned back, performing a suplex!

Spawn gave him no time to recover as he immediately kicked him hard enough to send him flying off the stage and bounce across the dance floor with each impact like a skipping stone across water.

With a growl, Tyran got up, slamming the ground as he did so, cracking the floor. He charged at Spawn again, who sidestepped and punched him in the chest, cracking the ogre's chitin armor and allowing him to grab him and charge out of the dance floor and towards the barroom, crashing past the counter and into the wall.

It was Spawn's turn to deliver a flurry of punches to the ogre, each one thrown glowing with necroplasm and harder than the last. It ended when the ogre caught a punch and headbutted the vigilante, dazing him enough for him to get out of the wall and grab him, slamming him into the floor and started running, dragging Spawn with him and turning parts of the floorboard into a trench.

Eventually, the ogre tossed the vigilante up towards one of the balconies, breaking the floor of it with the impact as the vigilante once again, found himself embedded into the wall.

As all of this was happening, Crowley couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way the two fought. It was like watching two rabid animals fight in a duel to the death. There was grace and precision in the sheer brutality of each attack. Every punch, kick, parry, or grapple was thrown for one purpose and one purpose only: to kill the opponent.

A shame they were destroying his club. Oh, well. Nothing a remodeling can't fix.

Spawn groaned in pain, letting his vision clear and saw the ogre standing below him with a smile on his face. With little effort, he freed himself from the indent and used his legs and claws as support to keep him hanging as the ogre spoke.

"This is quite a blood-pumping battle, Hellspawn," he exclaimed in a joyous tone, "it has been the most difficult one I've fought in a long time. I have not felt such pain like this in years!"

Al narrowed his eyes as the muscles in his legs braced, "you're gonna feel a lot worse!" He exclaimed before he shot himself forward like a missle, hitting the ogre at speeds so fast, he had no time to dodge as the impact not only shattered his chitinous armor, it also made a sonic boom that echoed across the building and cracked the floor, as well as metaphorically and very literally blowing the onlookers away as they collapsed onto the floor or a wall.

Beneath a dust cloud created from the impact, Spawn tossed several powerful punches to Tyran, said punches blowing away the dust. He then brought two fists together and brought them down in a powerful hammerstrike to finish the combo.

He looked at his handiwork. He was surprised to see that the ogre's face, despite being bloodied and scarred, was relatively intact and not a smooshed mess of blood, bone, and brainmatter. He'll give this to his opponent: He was one tough son of a bitch

Then, Spawn felt several cold stings on his side. He looked to the spot where the pain was present, seeing several icicles sticking out. He looked to the source: three terrified looking thugs who held out their arms, no doubt after casting an ice spell circle to fire at him.

With narrowed eyes, the vigilante teleported at them in a green flash and gripped one's throat, ripping out his spine. He then went to the next thug and snapped his neck a-hundred-and-eighty degrees, then finished the next guy by delivering a backhand that turned his head into paste.

All of this happened in the span of a few seconds.

At this point, the other thugs who were looking on didn't care about strategy. They wanted Spawn dead.

Many charged, some stayed behind and fired an endless barrage of ice and fire spells at the vigilante. Spawn caught a glimpse of one of his fallen crossbows and dodged the barrage of projectiles, grabbing the weapon with great speeds and aiming towards the charging thugs, downing them in an instant.

One thug created a spell circle and slammed it on the ground, causing the stone beneath Spawn to rise and bend into a circle, trapping him in a makeshift spherical prison.

"I got him!" The goon exclaimed.

KRR-KRRK

The sounds of cracking cut his excitement short and as soon as the sound started, it ended as Spawn broke out of the prison in a green explosion that sent gravel shards flying everywhere. He found the witch who used Construction magic and raised a palm, firing a blast of Necroplasm at him, creating a hole in his chest and killing him instantly.

He was then struck in the shoulder by a blade of… purple goop? Regardless of the material, it hurt like hell and he turned to see a giant purple slime monster groan and rise behind him. The undead slithered his way from the Abomination and fired a Necroplasm orb at the goop golem. It caught the ball of energy in its chest and at first nothing seemed to happen… Then a green blast exploded it.

A spider demon covered in Abomination goop looked awkwardly at the Hellspawn as he slowly stomped towards her with the intent of crushing her head like a grape.

Or he would have, had he not felt a tug at his cape and the feeling of being slammed on the ground multiple times like a ragdoll proceeding after.

That was one heck of a way to tell him that Tyran was still alive.

The metronomic-like slams continued before the ogre tossed him away to the utterly ruined dance floor. Spawn got up with a groan and shook off the pain as his hands glowed with necroplasm.

Then, a sudden piercing pain hit his abdomen.

He groaned in agony as he looked downwards to see Tyran's giant blade embedded in his stomach, the wound slightly leaking necroplasm.

Tyran smirked a bloody smile, "you have fought well, Hellspawn. But alas…" he then pulled the blade out of Spawn's chest, allowing the green necroplasm to spill all over the floor, "it was not enough."

Despite his wound, Spawn still stood… or he did anyways before Tyran slammed the blade to his shoulder, forcing him on his knees and creating a massive gash that stopped at his upper ribcage, necroplasm spilling out of the wound like a broken fountain spewing water as the undead screamed in agony.

With a bit of an effort, the ogre pulled the blade back and placed it on his shoulder with a sadistic grin as thugs surrounded them both, including Crowley.

The homunculus began slowly clapping as he got closer, ever so condescendingly, "well done Tyran," he said, never taking his eyes off Spawn for a single second, "a pity your fight wrecked my club, but that's what insurance is for, eh?"

Tyran huffed in a neutral tone as the homunculus began speaking to the wounded Hellspawn, "you've been one heck of a nuisance, Hellspawn," he intoned, "but like all nuisances, they get dealt with, eventually."

Spawn furrowed a brow, "you always talk with your victims?"

"Just the ones who annoy me the most," Crowley said with a smile before turning to Tyran and signaling him, "finish him."

"With pleasure…" the ogre said with a smile as he raised his massive blade upwards with one arm, intent on bisecting Spawn in two. He brought the blade down…

TING

Every thug's eyes, including Crowley and Tyran's, widened seeing what had just happened.

Spawn held the blade above him in-between his hands, barely seeming to struggle with the prospect of keeping it in place while being wielded by a massive brute like Tyran.

The vigilante got up from his knees, blade still in his hands as his wounds began to mend themselves on their own. Mortal wounds being reversed in seconds. Every thug present was simply speechless at this display in front of them. The vigilante only narrowed his eyes, but one could swear he was actually smiling beneath his mask.

"Playtime's over."

With those words said, Spawn leapt and placed his legs on Tyran's front, grabbing the arm that held his sword… and pulled.

Like wet paper, Tyran's arm was completely ripped off, painting the floor in red blood as the ogre roared in pure agony. Everyone else was so horrified at such brutality that they were frozen in fear and shock. They watched as Spawn removed the severed arm from the blade and observed it in his hand.

The sword was a massive hunk of metal in both length and width that only Tyran and other naturally strong beings were capable of wielding without some magical enhancements to boost their strength.

But here? Spawn was twirling it around like it was a child's plaything.

The vigilante turned to the thugs watching him, noting that some had already left the club and taking pride in the fact that Tyran was on the ground writhing in pain. He rested the blade on his shoulder and leaned down, planting a claw on the floor… and charged.

In the time it took for the goons to blink, Spawn cut them down like weeds, hacking and slashing with every swing. It defied logic how he could swing a mass of metal in such quick succession, but he did. And efficiently.

Before Crowley knew it, every thug that didn't leave the building was diced into pieces.

Spawn took another glance at the blood-soaked blade he acquired, "I like this sword." He muttered before turning to Crowley and what else could the homunculus do but trip backwards trying to get away from the now encroaching vigilante?

"Listen, mate… we can talk this through," Crowley pleaded, "you want money? I'll give you plenty of it. Territory? I'll give you a whole town's worth of it! You want-"

"Shut up!" Spawn interrupted, "You have nothing you can give to me, you little shit!"

He then pointed the blade forward towards the homunculus, "with the exception of your life, of course."

The flesh golem was flabbergasted by his directness, "What is your problem with us!? What did we ever do to warrant such brutality!?" He then listed off some hypothetical scenarios, "A family member got addicted to drugs? Girlfriend killed by one of our hitmen? You the leader of a rival gang wanting to make a name for themselves? Some secret service!? Anything!?"

"I'm just a guy who's cleaning up this world one scumbag at a time."

Crowley gulped before proceeding to create another scenario to retort against his motivations, "y-you kill me and the power vacuum will be massive. Every wannabe bigshot is going to want a piece of the pie," he nodded as if agreeing with his conclusion, "they'll be violence in the streets just to get a taste of it."

"So they'll kill each other in the process…" Spawn remarked bluntly before nodding, "Good. Makes my job easier."

The homunculus had nothing to say. It was clear that there was no bargaining or reasoning with him. He would absolutely not stop until every single member of the Syndicate was dead.

"Any last words?"

Spawn's voice snapped him out of his stupor. Crowley stared at the blade in front of his eyes before scoffing, "go ahead and kill me. I'm a homunculus," he proudly declared, "you kill me, my soul will just transfer to another body."

This seemed to work. Spawn seemed to slightly flinch and before long, drew his sword back. He then chuckled rather sinisterly as he planted the blade in the ground, "any idea what my suit can do?"

Crowley was stunned by this question, "n-no?" He stammered on his answer.

"It eats souls… and it's hungry."

The flesh golem widened his eyes and immediately tried to get back on his feet to run away, but was stopped by a sudden pull to his legs. He looked and saw that Spawn's massive cape seemed to gain a mind of its own and began wrapping itself around his body, crushing him as though he were in a metal press, despite looking like it was made of simple cloth.

Eventually, he was completely enveloped in the red shroud, his last gasps and screams cut off… before a green light slightly shone through it, accompanied by the sounds of cracking bones and torn flesh.

When the cape unfolded, all that was left was a bloodied skeleton that briefly glowed green before flopping onto the ground with a 'clack.'

Spawn's eyes briefly glowed and emanated an ethereal green mist as his suit devoured the soul and converted it into necroplasm. His eyes stopped glowing when the process was done, leaving him looking around and wondering what to do.

He supposed he could burn the place down.

Meanwhile, Tibbles finally got the chance to stand on his hooves, though certainly not without a lot of effort. Despite his wobbling stance, he immediately charged for… anything, really. Thankfully, he hit a wall and the vase his head was stuck in shattered. He took in a deep breath of relief and weakly laughed.

"I'm free!" He exclaimed, "I'm free!"

But in the middle of his celebration, his nose picked up the scent of something burning. He turned to the direction of the scent and saw that the barroom was on fire, no doubt ignited by all that alcohol present. By the looks of it, it was spreading fast.

He also saw the mutilated and hacked up bodies everywhere, and decided that both sights weren't his business.

He bolted for the door, only to be stopped by a massive blade that slammed on the ground, making him yelp. He assumed it was Tyran, but he saw the cloaked figure of Spawn approach him with a rather angry glare.

The swine gulped, "I don't suppose you're looking for a job opportunity, right?"

Spawn just raised a hand and blasted him with a green necro-orb, his body popping like a balloon.

With that, he left the club to let it burn to the ground, sword on his shoulder as he headed off into the night, knowing that this action will paint a bigger price on his head. Before, the thugs and cops sent hunting parties, but, now they'll send entire armies.

'Let them come,' he thought to himself, 'I have plenty of spots in Hell waiting for them all.'