Madness Combat Abecedarian

by R. U. Spencer

The Player paid the highest price to save Nevada from the MADNESS and joined himself with the Nowhere. But his story is far from over, as he awakens in a strange time and place. He didn't choose to be here, but he'll make the best of it. In a world with werewolves, witches, succubus, and vampires, living hidden in human society, he'll show them all that he's worse. (Noob Origin)

1. Chapter 1

This story is rated M for violence, swearing, epic fight scenes, and other mature themes. It's a Madness Combat crossover. What do you expect?

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Chapter I: We All Have To Start Somewhere

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"We are all born mad. Some remain so."

- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

---

For some, the act of fighting transcends mere necessity. It becomes a way of life, a relentless pursuit driven by an insatiable appetite for conflict. Like a painter with a brush or a sculptor with clay, they wield their weapons with a fluidity and precision that borders on artistry.

Their motivations are as diverse as the weapons they brandish: some fight for ideals, others for survival, and yet some seem to fight for no reason at all. Their actions are devoid of remorse or rationale, guided only by the chaos within.

In the heat of battle, they are unstoppable forces, seamlessly transitioning between instruments of death with a proficiency that's borderline madness. And when the dust settles, and the carnage fades, they stand amidst the wreckage, their purpose fulfilled until the next call to arms.

Their existence is a testament to the darker facets of humanity, where violence becomes a language of its own, spoken in the blood spilled and lives lost on the battlefield.

A life filled with violence, terror, carnage... madness.

---

Enter Name: Russell

---

Select Russell's Origin

(Noob)

Agent

Experiment

Mercenary

Patient

Disquieted

Offering

Creber

Massive

Tinkerer

Magiturge

---

IMPRINT SUCCESSFUL.

Wake up.

---

The Noob was jolted awake by a sensation tickling the back of his throat. With a cough, he attempted to clear it, only to be met with a sudden surge of agony coursing through his head. The pain was overwhelming, sending him into a state of dizziness and blurring his surroundings into a kaleidoscope of colors and lights. Each movement worsened his pain, leaving him nauseous and groaning. Despite the raspiness of his voice, he managed to cough once more, finding a bit of relief. Slowly, the intensity of the headache began to wane, and after blinking several times, his vision gradually returned to clearness. Yet, nausea lingered, a persistent reminder of his discomfort.

He soon realized his surroundings. He was on a moving bus, seated at and facing the back.

"How did I get here?" He thought.

He glanced behind him to find people scattered around, but none seemed to acknowledge his presence. They were absorbed in their own activities, seemingly indifferent to his presence.

As he faced forward again, his attention was drawn to the figure across from him. It was an older individual, maybe early to late thirties, adorned with goggles and what appeared to be a medical headlamp. Adorned with an armored air filter and bandages wrapped around the jaw, the person sported a collared black vest over a dark gray shirt. Their attire hinted at a post-apocalyptic aesthetic, yet it seemed strangely ordinary as if such clothing choices were unremarkable in this world.

"The Imprint seems to have taken hold. Welcome back, Russell," greeted the man. From the recesses of the Noob's mind, a familiarity stirred. He recognized this individual; he even knew his name: Doc.

"Impr-ack!" he uttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his stomach, his expression uneasy. "I don't understand what you mean—" The Noob's words were cut short as a tangy sensation rose in his throat, prompting him to hastily cover his mouth. With a disgusted groan, he swallowed it back down. Sensing the man's gaze upon him, he raised a hand in apology. "I-I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening to me," he muttered before a realization struck him. "What did you just call me?"

"Russell. That's your name," Doc replied, followed by a thoughtful hum. "This nausea appears to be a side effect of the Imprinting process, but it should subside in due time."

Russell... Russell... The name echoed in his mind. Was that really his name? It felt familiar, yet distant. Like a memory struggling to resurface. Why was it so difficult to recall anything? It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Imprinting?" Russell queried, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It'll come back to you soon; for now, let's get you up to speed on our objective," Doc replied calmly.

Straightening in his seat, Russell sensed the importance of the conversation ahead. Even if his mind was drawing blanks, it was clear that he needed to pay close attention.

"We're headed to North Central, the northernmost district of Nevada's biggest metropolis," Doc began, his tone matter-of-fact. "There's a vacant building there, secured by our organization. Every penny of our funding has been poured into acquiring that property. If we find the Mandatus there, you must turn that rundown building into a profitable venture. Do that, and we'll finally be able to run the Enmeshment Program and decipher the Mandatus." He fixed Russell with a pointed look, awaiting a response.

Russell blinked, his expression vacant as he processed the information. "I... think I'm getting the gist of it," he admitted. "I mean, it's a lot to take in. Again, I can't remember anything. It's... hard."

"I understand," Doc said. "I can assure you it will all come back to you in time, and I'll go into more details later, but now you need to focus on building your empire. We'll tend to the important work after you've gotten settled in."

With a sigh, Russell raised both hands in resignation, acknowledging the weight of the task ahead.

The bus hit a bump in the road, which everyone inside felt.

"Seems like we're approaching your stop," Doc remarked. "Remember. If you need help, call me using the phone in the Hub room above the lobby."

The Noob nodded his head twice and let out some air. "Okay." He said. "Okay."

The Noob ran his hand through his hair, grappling with the overwhelming influx of information. Despite Doc's assurances and the details provided, the situation still felt surreal. How would anyone react to waking up on a bus, confronted by a masked stranger who declared them responsible for renovating a building? It was disorienting, to say the least. While fear lurked in the background, Russell just felt lost.

"Organization... Status Quo," Russell murmured to himself, his eyes drifting downward as he grappled with the fragments of memory. The name resonated in his mind, linking with Doc's mention of "our organization." Was that the name of the group he belonged to? It was a puzzle he couldn't quite piece together. Uncertainty gnawed at him, and he didn't have the answers.

The rain outside the bus started to pick up, making Russell turn to look at it as the drops pelted the windows. It was raining hard now, but he could see the people, cars, and bright signs that sped by. He wasn't sure why, but there was a certain calmness to it that helped him control his unease about his situation. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"We'll speak again soon, Russell." He said. "Best of luck."

Not a minute later, the bus came to a slow stop on the rain-slicked road. The familiar hiss of steam accompanied the opening of the doors, signaling Russell to rise from his seat. Casting one last glance towards Doc, he walked off the bus. As he stepped onto the pavement, the relentless downpour greeted him, soaking him to the bone. With a rumble, the bus's engine roared back to life, its doors closing before it pulled away, leaving Russell standing alone in the rain.

---

Somewhere in Nevada...

Then.

---

He shielded his head with one arm, attempting to ward off the rain as he navigated through the bustling sidewalk crowd. Following Doc's instructions, he went to the alley they had passed earlier. The bright yellow sign served as a marker, standing out amidst the neon lights adorning nearby establishments. It beckoned him forward like a beacon, guiding his path through the dreary weather.

Besides the steel gate and two dumpsters, there was a door at the end of the alley. The word "Annex" was displayed above it. "I guess that's it," Russell thought. Even if it wasn't the exact location, he could at least find shelter from the relentless rain. Approaching the door, Russell saw it slide open smoothly, indicating that power was still operational within the building. However, his primary concern was seeking refuge from the downpour, so he entered without hesitation.

As soon as he stepped inside, the sorry state of the building's interior greeted him. It was a mess, plain and simple, but he supposed he should have expected as much, considering Doc had mentioned the place was abandoned. Dust and dirt danced in the air as he made his way through, settling on forgotten furniture like a secondary blanket. Cobwebs from spiders, still living or dead were on the ceiling. Papers littered the floor, adding to the clutter, while a musty smell of mold lingered in the air.

It was indeed a mess.

"How am I supposed to clean this place up by myself?" He thought. The Noob ran one of his hands across a nearby desk. The dust stuck like snow on a glove. He wiped his hand on his pants, but with rainwater drenching his clothes, it also stuck to him like glue. "God damn it."

Russell's eyes traced the path of the ramp, leading to a landing connecting to another ramp in a U or V-shape, ascending to a floor above the entrance. Contemplating his next move, he found himself at a crossroads. Should he start cleaning now? Or explore the rest of the building? He went with the latter, mostly because he wanted to see how bad the rest of the facility looked.

"Hey! Squatter's rights!" Someone shouted from above. "This place is mine!" It was a homeless guy, specifically a squatter. The Squatter was an older gentleman like Doc, but unlike Doc, he appeared way older, seeming to be middle-aged with a bushy beard. He wore a dark, navy-blue beanie with yellow-rimmed glasses with a matching navy-blue vest over a ragged hoodie.

As the Squatter charged down the incline, his fists clenched in anger, Russell instinctively backed up, creating distance between them. As the Squatter thrust his fist forward, Russell swiftly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow. Reacting with quick reflexes, Russell raised his left hand and delivered a downward strike to the bum's head, causing him to stagger. Seizing the opportunity, Russell continued his assault. He struck the Squatter in the head with his other hand, followed by a blow to the collar. Finally, with a swift circular motion, Russell swung his right arm to deliver a punch to the Squatter's jaw, sending him to the ground.

"Piss off!" grunted the Squatter. "I was here first!"

Undeterred, the bum pushed himself off his ass and got back on his feet, determined to continue the fight. Meanwhile, Russell kept a safe distance, circling around the hobo. As the Squatter raised a hand, Russell acted quickly and struck first. With a downward strike, Russell landed a blow to the left side of the bum's head. He sidestepped to the left and delivered another strike to the right side of the Squatter's head. Not letting up, Russell continued with a swift blow to the Squatter's right ribs. Finally, with a decisive circular motion, the Noob swung his right arm, landing another hook to the bum's jaw, sending him crumbling to the ground once again.

"Oof, alright, lay off!" cried the Squatter. Russell walked over to him and grabbed him by his dirty collar. He lifted his back off the and raised his right hand. "Hey! Hey! I said I give! Knock it off!" The bum raised both his hands in surrender. Staring down at the Squatter for a few moments, Russell decided that it was enough. With a nod, he released his grip on the Squatter's collar, causing the bum to drop back onto the ground with a thud. "Ow," groaned the Squatter, rubbing his head where it had collided with the floor.

Russell slowly stepped back, giving him room to get up. He staggered a bit, almost losing his footing, but the Squatter managed. "You're very cranky, kid." said the Squatter. He brushed the dust off his clothes, but it hardly mattered as they were beyond dirty from his vagrancy. "You know that?"

"Look, I don't know who you are or why you're here, though I can give a good guess." He said, lifting a hand towards the bum, referring to his dirty appearance. "But you need to get out of here. I need this place for something, so you need to beat it. Right now." He rubbed his hands, the sensation of hitting someone else still lingering on his fists. Russell couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu. Although he still couldn't remember anything, fighting felt strangely familiar. What the Noob did to the homeless guy felt almost natural to him; he just did it.

"So they finally got someone to take over the old Annex building, eh?" the homeless man remarked with a wry grin through his bushy beard. "Well, good luck. This place is infested with all manner of unsavory sorts. Hooligans, roughnecks, rascals, you name it!"

Russell's eyebrows furrowed. "You serious?"

"Dead serious," confirmed the homeless man, gesturing up the floor above them, which Russell tried to get to before he attacked him. "They're all up there, minding their own business, but you might get the drop on them. Emphasis on might."

He looked at the floor above and back at the bum. He let out some air. "Look... just leave, okay? I'm gonna go turn on the power, and you better be gone when you get back."

"No sweat, chief." The Squatter said. "You know I used to run a power station outside Nexus City, so I know a thing or two. You're gonna want to try the helipad on the rooftop. I bet that's where they stuck that pesky breaker panel."

The Noob nodded in acknowledgment and resumed his path down the ramp. However, halfway through, he paused and glanced back at the Squatter. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for beating you up. But to be fair, you started it," he admitted, pointing towards the bum.

The Squatter shrugged nonchalantly, tilting his head. "Eh," he responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Tell you what, take this." With that, he reached behind his back and produced a grey flashlight. "See? I got your back." The homeless man held it out to Russell, and he gladly took it. Given how dark this place was and that it had no power, he needed a light source to navigate it. He pressed the button on it, and it worked, thankfully.

"Thanks, I guess," he muttered, acknowledging the unexpected gesture of assistance despite the fact he kicked the man's ass.

Russell climbed the ramp, passing by the landing where a makeshift tent belonging to the Squatter lay. Its presence obscured the windows of the floor he was on, casting a shadow over the surroundings. The Noob peered outside, greeted by the sight of rain running down the glass. Despite the limited visibility, he could make out a nearby parking lot and the silhouette of numerous buildings shrouded in the misty rain.

Glancing down, Russell tightened his grip on the flashlight. Surprisingly weighty, it could serve as a makeshift weapon against any other inhabitants of the abandoned building. Moreover, it appeared remarkably clean compared to its surroundings. Yet, a nagging question lingered: where had the homeless man stored it? He saw that the Squatter pulled it from behind himself. The realization hit him, and he looked at the flashlight.

"Wait, did he?" Raising the flashlight to his face, he sniffed it cautiously. Instantly, he recoiled, coughing and waving away the stench. "Yeah, he did," he confirmed with a grimace.

Looking above, the door to the next room read "Subsidiary Access." Steeling himself, he reminded himself of the task at hand. Whether he liked it or not, he had a job to do, and he needed the flashlight to get through the darkness of the building, even if it smelled... crusty.

The Noob entered the room, only to be met by the presence of two Hooligans. They turned their heads towards the newcomer, their hands raised for a fight.

"Quick!" shouted one Hooligan. "Grab that guy's stuff!"

Reacting swiftly, Russell moved backward while keeping his gaze fixed on the advancing Hooligan. He glanced over his shoulder to avoid bumping into anything in the dirty room. The Hooligan raised his hand, but Russell was quicker, swinging the flashlight and landing a solid blow to the Hooligan's head. Following up with another strike, this time with his empty hand aimed at the Hooligan's chest, Russell tried to deliver another hit. However, the Hooligan turned around abruptly and ran back, not away from the fight, but away from Russell. As the retreating Hooligan ran, the other one decided it was his turn to join the fray.

The Noob shifted to the offensive this time, swiftly advancing towards the second Hooligan and throwing a downward right punch. The Hooligan had some sense to dodge, moving backward to evade the blow. Seizing the opportunity, the Hooligan counterattacked, advancing towards Russell, but he responded with a quick left jab to the face. He continued with a right swing to the jaw and raised both hands, slamming them hard into the Hooligan's dirty head. Sensing an opportunity, Russell relinquished his grip on the flashlight, instead placing his hands on either side of the Hooligan's head and applying pressure. With shocking strength, Russell's hands crushed the Hooligan's skull as if it were made of nothing more than fragile glass. Blood, brains, and flesh merged together in a gruesome display, accompanied by the sickening sound of bones breaking and tissue tearing. Chunks of broken skull littered the ground, resembling broken pieces of watermelon.

"Woah," Russell exclaimed, his voice mixed with shock and disbelief as he stared at his bloodstained hands. Before he could fully process what he just did, the Noob's attention was drawn to the sound of approaching footsteps belonging to the remaining Hooligan.

Reacting swiftly, Russell grabbed his flashlight and swung it at the approaching Hooligan's head. The force of the blow was enough to send the thug staggering backward. Seizing the opportunity, Russell followed up with a powerful downward swing with his left fist, striking the Hooligan squarely in the chest. The Hooligan collapsed to the ground, motionless.

"Wait, did that-?" Russell's words trailed off as he watched the pool of blood begin to spread around the Hooligan's body, confirming his demise. "That killed him?" he murmured in disbelief, his gaze fixated on his clenched fist. "Wow."

Wait... didn't he just kill someone?

Yeah, he did.

He had indeed brutally taken two lives, and yet, there was an eerie absence of the expected emotional turmoil. Most people would be overwhelmed with shock, guilt, and remorse after such an event, but he was strangely detached from the expected reactions. As he gazed at the lifeless bodies of the Hooligans, their demise a grisly testament to his own violence, Russell felt no hint of guilt, shame, or regret. It was as if a part of him had shut down, allowing him to carry out the brutal act without hesitation or remorse. Granted, the Hooligans attacked him first, and he was defending himself, but it was strange that he had no regret over what he did. Ironic that he felt a little sympathy over beating up that Squatter earlier.

He just... did what came naturally.

"Huh," Russell murmured, his voice tinged with bewilderment. He glanced at his hands, opening and closing them reflexively as if searching for some tangible explanation for his emotional numbness. "Weird."

Lowering his arms, Russell took a moment to survey the surroundings of the room he found himself in. It was spacious, with a tall ceiling that gave an expansive feel, complemented by large windows offering a view outside. However, the grandeur was ruined by more junk. Dust coated every surface, scattered papers littered the floor, and piles of garbage seemed to dominate the space. In fact, there appeared to be even more garbage here compared to the earlier room, with stacks blocking access to other doors leading elsewhere.

"I guess this is the Hub room," Russell thought as his gaze was drawn to an orange-yellow glow amidst the clutter. It was faint and easy to miss, as it was buried under an empty pizza box. Curious, the Noob began to push aside the trash to get a better look. As he cleared the debris, he revealed what appeared to be a modified landline phone with blocky attachments for a purpose he didn't know. However, the small screen attached to the top got his attention. The screen emitted the soft glow that caught his eye, and upon closer inspection, Russell saw that it displayed a single word: "Help."

"Was this what Doc was talking about?" Recalling Doc's telling to call him if he needed help. He thought for a moment and realized while he didn't need help right now, he should tell Doc he made it safe and was doing okay so far. Picking up the receiver, which was more dusty than dirty, he reached over with his left to call him... but realized that he didn't have Doc's number.

"Oh crap," Russell thought, realizing he couldn't call him. He never asked for Doc's number, and Doc didn't tell him what it was either. The Noob started to ponder his next move, tapping his head repeatedly with his left pointer finger while his other hand hung at his side. "Okay, think, think, think," He started. "He said to call him, but the hell am I supposed to do that with no number?" He stared at the landline, hoping that it would have his answer. Doc wouldn't just tell him to call him if he couldn't. It looked like your typical corded landline telephone with a keypad, and again, it had those weird, blocky attachments. "Let's see here..." Russell muttered, scanning the phone's buttons. He disregarded the numbers and volume controls, but his attention lingered on the redial button. "Maybe..." The Noob mused, reaching over to press it. As he brought the receiver back to his ear, he heard the familiar dial tone, followed by the ringing. "Oh?" Russell's hopes lifted. Could this be it?

There was a click, and he heard a familiar voice. "Hello?"

"Doc? Is this you?" he inquired eagerly.

"Yes, Russell, it's me," Doc confirmed, getting a sigh of relief from Russell. "If you're calling me, you've found the phone and are already inside. Good work."

"Thanks," Russell replied. "I think we're in business... aside from the trash everywhere."

"Good. The plan is like we discussed: get this place in working order and establish a working enterprise out of it," Doc reiterated. "If you're ever uncertain about what to do next, call me. I'll be monitoring your progress remotely. Good luck, Russell."

"I will," He said. "Thanks again." And with that, Doc hung up, leaving him with the dial tone again. "Wait a minute... Oh, damn it, I should've asked for his number just in case." After putting the receiver back, Russell let out a sigh, still a bit overwhelmed with what he was tasked with doing. He looked around the cluttered room, pondering his next move.

"Alright, what do I do next?" he mused. Russell picked up his flashlight and surveyed the room. His eyes fell upon a nearby door, its lights still glowing green, indicating it was accessible. It seemed to be the only entrance not blocked by garbage aside from the one he entered through. Without hesitation, he made his decision and headed toward the door. "To adventure." He said half-heartedly with a chuckle.

As he stepped into the next room, he immediately noticed the stark contrast from the one he had just left. Unlike the previous space, there were no windows to offer even a sliver of ambient light from the outside world. The absence of moonlight, lamp post glow, or neon signs from neighboring buildings left the room shrouded in pitch-black darkness. Relying solely on the beam of his flashlight and the dim glow of the lights surrounding the doors, the Noob walked into what looked like a mess hall. There were several tables, like the ones you'd see at a high school cafeteria, and to his left looked like a counter to give people food, but it looked blocked off by metal shutters.

Just then, he saw another Hooligan in the room. The Hooligan turned around when he noticed the bright light and winced when it hit his face, covering his eyes. It didn't stop the Hooligan from charging at him, though. Reacting swiftly to the Hooligan's advance, Russell took the initiative and struck first. With a quick downward swing, he brought his flashlight crashing down on the assailant's shoulder, staggering him. Following up with another hit, the Noob delivered a blow with his other hand, aiming for the Hooligan's head. The force of the impact stunned the Hooligan, leaving him vulnerable. Taking advantage of this, Russell landed a well-placed punch to the Hooligan's ribs, causing him to double over in pain. Once more, Russell finished him off with a spinning right hook to the jaw, and like before, the Hooligan fell and bled out on the dirty floor, dead.

As the nearby door turned green, signaling that he could pass through, Russell glanced toward the back of the room and noticed what appeared to be large bunk beds. The sight of the metal frames welded to the wall, accompanied by ladders leading to the top bed, intrigued him.

"Hmm," Russell hummed thoughtfully, his gaze shifting back and forth between the bunk beds and the rest of the room. "Maybe these are like barracks? Who knows..."

With a shrug, he left the question unanswered and continued towards the green-lit door.

The next room was noticeably more spacious than the last one, although it didn't quite match the size of the Hub room. At first glance, nothing seemed particularly remarkable aside from the scattered garbage and the tents belonging to other occupants. However, amidst the clutter, something caught his attention. In the middle of the room laid a machine, past a small walkway surrounded by rope barriers, beyond another tent and numerous pizza boxes. Tubes and wires ran from different parts of the room into a large, square-shaped device, which he assumed to be the central part of the machine. To the right looked like a shelf with what looked like VHS players, and in front of them, on the desk, were the VHS tapes in a stack. In the middle of this machine was what looked like a "metal capsule." Two bars were on each end of what looked like the capsule's door. He tried to lift it with both hands after setting down the flashlight, but it was shut tight.

"The hell is this thing?" he questioned internally, confused but curious. Deciding he would come back to this place later, Russell moved on.

The Noob found himself in a room with two floors this time. The first was the one he was standing on, which led to an incline that continued upward to a floor above. As he walked up the slope, he noticed another Hooligan ahead of him, unaware of his presence. Using this to his advantage, he kicked the Hooligan in the back of one of his knees, causing him to stumble. Before he could hit the ground, Russell seized him by the head and twisted it sharply, snapping his neck. With a grim efficiency, he let the lifeless body slump to the ground, the Hooligan's head now turned at an unnatural angle.

After killing the Hooligan, he glanced around the floor he was on. The Noob's attention was drawn to a hallway lined with several metal, circular platforms near the walls, with each having small steps leading up to it. The purpose of these platforms eluded him, but they stood out amid the cluttered surroundings. Aside from a nearby wooden palette at the far end of the room with a diamond-shaped construction sign in front of it, that was pretty much it.

"Alright, on to the next one," He thought.

The Noob found himself in a hallway when he entered the following room. To his right, he found another wooden palette with a construction sign, blocking whatever was on the other side, if anything was behind it. Moving past empty shelves and a workbench, he noticed a giant metal container, prompting him to give it a curious kick, though it yielded no response. Behind that, he observed what appeared to be a closed shop counter, reminiscent of the counter he saw earlier in the Barracks room, and like before, metal shutters sealed it off. Catching his attention next was a nearby sectioned area. Rows of shelves and scattered debris hinted at the space's former use, perhaps as a storage or workspace. Despite the clutter, he couldn't shake the feeling of being on a viewing platform as he rested his arms on the safety railings, imagining the hustle and bustle of people working below.

Now that he thinks about it, the whole state of this building is quite sad. This place must have once thrived with activity, bustling with people engaged in whatever work it was intended for. He imagined it to be clean, bright, and full of purpose. But now, it lay in darkness, covered in dust and cluttered with crap, home to a group of homeless people seeking shelter. It was a stark contrast, a testament to the passage of time and neglect. On the bright side, with Doc and Status Quo's intervention, they tasked him with cleaning up this decaying mess and turning it into something better. It was still painful to see, though.

"What a shame," The Noob said with a head shake. Pushing off the railing, he headed towards another incline, hoping to find the breaker the Squatter told him about.

Stepping onto the helipad, Russell finally reached his destination as he felt the rain patter against his head. Surprisingly, the area was relatively clean, with only a few scattered cones dotting the pristine surface. In the center of the helipad, a large white circle with the letter "H" printed on it marked the designated spot for any helicopters that wanted to land. He'll admit that he was expecting the helipad to be in a similar state to the rest of the building, but it wasn't.

It was nice.

"Come and get it, hot stuff!"

The homeless guy about to attack him wasn't, though.

The Backtalker ran up to the Noob, but with a hard blow from the flashlight and a right follow-up jab, he left the Backtalker stunned. The Noob took him by the chest and heaved him into the air with one hand. In one decisive move, he brought the bum crashing down onto the wet helipad, headfirst, with bone-crushing force. The impact effortlessly broke the Backtalker's neck, rendering him motionless on the ground.

Stepping back, Russell couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion. "Why the hell did you call me "hot stuff"?" He asked the body, but he obviously wasn't going to get an answer from him.

Turning to his left, Russell finally spotted what he was looking for: the breaker panel for the building. The red-colored handle of the light switch wasn't hard to miss. Without hesitation, he reached and grabbed the lever, pulling it down. As he did, lights began to illuminate around the helipad, with several bulbs flickering to life along the safety fences, signaling that power had been restored to the building.

The Noob cracked a satisfied smile, hands on his hips as he surveyed the illuminated helipad. "Nice," he remarked with a nod of approval.

Russell's attention shifted to the edge of the helipad. Walking to the rim, he found a small open section with a ladder leading down into a maintenance hole. It was blocked off with junk, of course, but he felt he'd find a way in due time.

As he stood at the edge of the building, overlooking the bustling city below, the rain adding a serene quality to the scene, the Noob couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him. Despite the daunting task ahead of him, there was a brief moment of peace in simply taking in the view. However, duty called, and he knew he couldn't stay. With a sigh, he turned away from the edge and walked inside, ready to tackle the challenges that awaited him in restoring the building to its former glory.

"Back to the grind," He said.

---

Somewhere In Japan...

Now.

---

"Go, go, go!"

"Move! Down there!"

"He's this way!"

The building's floor trembled as multiple groups of men dashed down the steps and through the hallways, shouting commands and seizing weapons. Pistols and hefty crowbars, daggers, and swords were grabbed by the occupants of the sprawling structure as they mobilized and assembled in a single designated room within the facility.

This building stood out from most in Japan, for it was unique in that it belonged to the Tojo Clan, a powerful yakuza group based in Kanto, eastern Japan. The call over the radio alerted them to an intruder detected inside one of the storage rooms. According to the individual who reported the incident, the intruder seemingly materialized out of thin air. They had been loading construction materials into a nearby metal storage unit for one of their front businesses when a bright, white, rectangular... thing manifested in the middle of the storage space. Shortly afterward, a person emerged from it. Chaos ensued as bullets flew, gunfire echoed, and the sounds of men being cut down filled the air. The informant's frantic cries for help were abruptly silenced as he fell victim to the assailant's onslaught. Hearing all that over their walkie-talkies was enough to make every person mobilize, with a sizable force heading over to the storage areas of the lower section of the building.

At the forefront of the mobilized group was Tsui Kuze, the leader of the building. Despite his unassuming appearance as an average-sized Japanese man clad in a black suit, white dress shirt, and green tie, with a shaven head styled into a buzz cut, Tsui commanded a formidable presence. He had climbed the yakuza ranks through less-than-subtle means, cultivating a reputation for his ruthless demeanor and bloodthirsty nature. Among those who knew and worked under him, Tsui was known for his peculiar habit of sticking his tongue out, a gesture which put a lot of people off, but they kept it to themselves to avoid his wrath. It was as if he possessed a predatory instinct, akin to a lizard, ready to strike at any moment.

As they neared the storage area, Tsui stuck his tongue out, and his demeanor shifted immediately. Though outwardly calm, a sense of tension pervaded his every movement. His body tensed, muscles coiling beneath his suit, and his fists clenched involuntarily. Despite his attempts to maintain composure, a subtle edge of anticipation tinged his demeanor, hinting at the simmering violence beneath the surface.

A few minutes later, the group of armed men stormed the storage room, busting down doors with fervor. Some flooded in from the ground floor, while others ascended to the upper catwalks to gain vantage points. What they beheld within left them shaken to their cores. Some even screamed.

It was a massacre.

Over a dozen bodies lay scattered across the room, each bearing signs of brutal violence. Some were riddled with bullets, others sliced in half, impaled on walls, or disemboweled, their organs spilling out gruesomely. Several were missing their heads entirely or had them snapped and pointed in physically impossible directions, adding to the macabre scene. Equipment, crates, and even the walls were broken or smashed, and blood pooled on the floor, creating a grim river that seemed to flow from one lifeless form to the next, saturating the room in an eerie crimson hue.

All of this was done by the hand of the intruder, standing in the middle of the room.

His head, mouth, and eyes were covered in gear. He wore thick grey goggles with separate black lenses, obscuring his eyes entirely. A grey half-mask respirator, accented with red outlines, covered his mouth and chin, flanked by two cartridges on either side of his face. The mask boasted a central piece of red-colored armor positioned over his mouth. Concealing his black hair was a red hood bordered with black trim. His attire included sturdy body armor secured by two straps and grey metal buckles across the front, layered atop a red T-shirt. The armor comprised four rectangular sections: one covering the front, two sides, and the back. The upper part of the back armor was exposed while the lower remained protected. Attached to the back piece were three pouches for additional storage, with several compact throwing axes visible behind him. Over his shoulders, he wore red and black colored metal pauldrons accented with grey trims. Completing his ensemble were black jeans paired with grey boots reaching his ankles.

The man wielded a double-edged battle axe in his right hand, gripping its dark grey padded handle firmly, while in his left hand, he held a rotating cylinder combat shotgun. As the yakuza burst into the room, he raised his gaze to meet theirs, tilting his head slightly to take in the sight of the armed men around the catwalks. His attention swiftly shifted to Tsui, who forcefully pushed past his men, who remained frozen in shock at the scene before them. Like the others, Tsui appeared stunned by the carnage, but his shock quickly morphed into anger, evident in how he licked his lips and clenched his teeth. Scanning the room with a steely gaze, he took in the sight of each brutally slain yakuza. Then, his gaze shifted to the armed men surrounding the intruder, and he nodded, a grin creeping onto his face.

"So..." Tsui began, his voice deep and commanding. "you're the punk who killed my men?"

The man remained silent, his gaze fixed on Tsui.

"I bet you made short work of these guys," Tsui continued, leaning forward and placing both hands on the railing. "Don't expect the same treatment now. Tell me, who are you? Did one of the other families send you? Are you just some wannabe thug who thinks he can take us on? Or maybe you're just some brat playing hero with a little get-up like that? Aren't you a bit old for cosplay? "

The man remained silent as he gazed up at the Yakuza lieutenant.

"You know," Tsui continued, his tone dripping with intimidation, "you made a big mistake coming here and pulling a stunt like this. We're not just some regular, run-of-the-mill gangsters. The Tojo clan is one of the most feared families in Japan. We have a long history dating back several decades, and within that time, we've carved out a kingdom in this country. Extortion, gambling, drug trafficking – we've done it all. We've done more than enough crap to damn us all to hell, and we've taken down anyone who's tried to mess with us. Sure, we've lost a lot of good guys over the years... but you should see what we did to the others."

A few men began to laugh and chuckle, their fear replaced with bravado as they tightened their grip on their weapons. However, the man remained silent, his lack of response adding to the tension in the room. Tsui's expression darkened, his earlier confidence fading into a frown.

"So, I don't know who you are or what you were thinking of accomplishing here with this..." Tsui's voice carried a dangerous edge as he gestured around the room, indicating the scene of the massacre. "But don't think you're getting out alive, you little bastard. Sure, you took out a few of our men, but you're surrounded, with guns pointed at you, ready to tear you apart. So, I think you should be getting on your knees and praying for mercy now... right?"

Once more, there was no response from the intruder. He remained unmoved and silent, his stoic gaze fixed on Tsui.

"Are you going to say something or what-?!"

In an instant, the intruder raised his combat shotgun and unleashed a blast at Tsui. The pellets tore through the air, finding their mark as they struck Tsui's side, shoulder, and right cheek. The force of the attack sent the Yakuza lieutenant tumbling to the ground, overcome by shock and searing pain.

"Aniki!" One yakuza grunt in a suit cried out. Several other men cried out in shock as they realized what happened to their big brother. As the suit-wearing yakuza helped him up, Tsui angrily pushed him off and stared back down at the intruder. The lieutenant's frustration boiled over, and he clenched the metal railings with such force that they bent under his grip, startling those nearby with the display of his anger.

The intruder lowered his shotgun and raised his battle axe. With his clenched hand still gripping the axe, he gave a "come here" gesture towards Tsui.

In other words, bring it.

Enraged, Tsui let out a furious roar, turning to the surrounding men. "Kill him! Tear this bastard apart!" he bellowed, his voice filled with rage and determination. He swiftly pivoted on his heel as the suit-wearing Yakuza member retrieved a rag, heading back down the hallway they came from.

Upon hearing their leader's command, the thugs raised their guns and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the intruder while those armed with melee weapons charged forward, intent on engaging in close combat.

Fifteen on the ground and fifteen on the catwalks.

Securing his shotgun on his back, the intruder firmly gripped the handle of his battle axe. As a yakuza grunt charged toward him with a bat, he swiftly swung his axe, slicing off a small chunk of the grunt's scalp. Dodging a bullet from a Desert Eagle, the intruder leaned backward and delivered a hard blow to the grunt's chest, ripping open his chest and killing him.

Sidestepping to evade another shot, he switched weapons in one fluid motion. As another grunt charged at him wielding a raised crowbar, he retaliated with a precise shotgun blast to the chest. The grunt dropped to his knees with his head tilted backward in a dazed, almost trance-like state before succumbing to death.

Bounding through the shelves and boxes, the intruder skillfully evaded the bullets raining down from the men above. Suddenly, he encountered a grunt aiming a Beretta directly at him, but he acted swiftly, firing his shot first. The force of the blast sent the grunt's body twisting through the air before it crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

A small group of grunts emerged, rushing past their fallen comrade. Reacting swiftly, the intruder shifted to the right and unleashed another shot, instantly dispatching an unarmed grunt. As another grunt emerged from behind a shelf corner brandishing a bat, he charged towards the intruder, only to meet the same fate. His chest and head were struck by the intruder's point-blank gunfire, resulting in a devastating blow that tore a large chunk off his face.

The intruder pressed on, darting among the crates and boxes until he positioned himself behind the main ground force. "He's behind us! Over there!" A grunt shouted upon spotting the intruder. In retaliation, the intruder fired several pellets into the chest and head of the grunt who spoke. He swiftly followed up with another shot, killing another grunt, whose head snapped back as if it were a twig while somehow not exploding like a water balloon. A grunt dashed toward the intruder armed with a knife but met the same fate as his comrades, being gunned down and collapsing like a crumpled piece of paper on the ground.

Switching weapons again, the intruder tightened his grip on his axe with his right hand. As another grunt, armed with a dagger, charged towards him and thrust his blade forward, the intruder swiftly grabbed the grunt's wrist, shocking him. "What?!" The intruder moved the grunt's arm away, closing the distance between them, before delivering a hard blow with the pommel of his axe to the grunt's eye. "Argh!" Releasing his grip, the intruder watched as the grunt dropped his dagger. "You bast-!" The grunt's anger turned to horror as the intruder, gripping the axe with both hands, swung upward with force, as if striking a golf ball with a putter. The blade of the axe gruesomely ripped through the grunt's chin, separating his head from his shoulders in a horrifying display.

The detached head landed at the feet of another shocked grunt. "Holy shit!" he cried out in terror.

The intruder charged towards a grunt who aimed and fired a bullet from his Beretta, but he swiftly sidestepped to avoid the shot. Swinging horizontally, he struck the grunt's jaw, tearing it clean off his mouth. All that remained was his dangling tongue, hanging limply down to his chest. The grunt stood in shock, staring down as he instinctively reached for his missing jaw, only to grasp futilely at the empty space. The grunt looked back at the intruder, who bashed his face in with a hard fist and left him to gurgle and slowly die on the ground.

The intruder pressed on with his assault, charging towards the remaining five members of the ground force. He ran past four of the men and horizontally swung at the grunt at the end of the small group. The axe's blade tore through the grunt's stomach, causing his internal organs to spill out onto the concrete floor with a sickening splat.

Without hesitation, the intruder spun around and delivered another powerful swing, driving the blade of his axe into the neck of another grunt. He then landed a forceful punch to the face of the yakuza grunt beside him, seizing him by both shoulders. With a swift motion, the intruder spun the grunt around so that his back faced him, then gripped him tightly by both ribs. Lifting the grunt high, he executed a backward body slam, driving him forcefully into the cold concrete and snapping the grunt's neck.

The intruder quickly got to his feet, fixing his gaze on the two remaining terrified grunts. Reaching out to retrieve his axe, still lodged in the previous grunt's neck, he pulled it free and swung it once more at the next grunt in his path, slicing a deep gash into his eye. "My eyeeeee!" the grunt cried out in agony. "My eye-!" His screams abruptly ceased as the intruder buried his axe into his neck, too.

The lone remaining grunt on the ground floor dropped his weapon and attempted to flee in terror, but the intruder swiftly hurled his axe into the grunt's back, bringing him to a sudden and final demise.

The intruder moved to retrieve his axe but dodged sideways to avoid a bullet aimed at his head. Glancing upward, he noticed the other fifteen men on the catwalk, their expressions filled with horror.

"H-He just killed them all!" sputtered one Yakuza grunt, his voice trembling with fear.

"K-K-Keep shooting at him! Shoot him!" ordered another grunt, prompting the group to unleash a barrage of gunfire at the intruder.

The intruder shook his head, swiftly wrenching his axe from the fallen grunt before bolting towards one of the nearby shelves. With agility and determination, he leaped up, utilizing the metal boards as a makeshift ladder while dodging and weaving his body to evade the hail of bullets.

"He's trying to climb up here!" yelled a panicked grunt. "Don't let him!"

Perched atop the shelf, the intruder swiftly seized a wooden pallet, wielding it as a makeshift shield against the relentless barrage of bullets. Maneuvering across the long metal board, he advanced towards the edge of one of the catwalks, deftly evading and deflecting the shots fired his way. As he neared the edge of the shelf, the intruder increased his pace, building speed for a daring leap. He soared into the air with a huge jump, leaving the yakuza watching in stunned disbelief. The intruder landed on the catwalk, sending shockwaves of horror through the ranks of the yakuza grunts as they realized they were next in line to face his wrath.

"Shoot him! Shoot him!" A grunt cried out in a frantic attempt to stop him, urging his comrades to take down the intruder. Several grunts dashed across the catwalks, some still firing their guns while others brandished their weapons, all intent on engaging the intruder in melee combat, either in desperation or bravery.

Acting swiftly, the intruder switched to his shotgun and charged towards the nearest grunt. With a point-blank shot, he aimed for the grunt's stomach, killing him, before swiftly moving past to engage the rest.

In contrast to the expansive floor below, the catwalks were narrow, offering limited space for maneuvering. This restriction forced the grunts wielding melee weapons to advance in a single-file line, creating a bottleneck situation. Firing another round, the intruder dispatched a grunt with a shot to the face before swiftly turning his attention to the next assailant behind and shooting him. Observing additional grunts approaching from a bridge connecting to the catwalks on the opposite side of the room, he navigated over the fallen bodies and toward the bridge to confront them.

Aiming at the gap between two approaching grunts, he squeezed the trigger. The shotgun's spread of pellets struck both targets, penetrating their chests and faces, swiftly killing them. As the intruder dashed across yet another connecting bridge, he dodged incoming gunfire by swiftly shifting his head. Behind him, several more grunts pursued, exacerbating the bottleneck scenario as they struggled to advance in a single file. Glancing to his right, the intruder observed additional grunts attempting to block his path from the opposite side of the bridge. Swiftly evading a bullet by leaning to the side, he pivoted around, seized one of the axes strapped to his back, hurled it at a pursuing grunt, and maintained his pace. The axe embedded itself into the grunt's face, precisely in the bridge of his nose. The force of the axe hitting his face made the grunt slip and execute an involuntary backflip before colliding with the grunts trailing behind him. The sudden impact momentarily halted their advance as they struggled to disentangle their fallen comrade's body.

Outmaneuvering the advancing grunts on the right, he swiftly pivoted and hurled another small axe into the face of an oncoming assailant. Dodging a bullet aimed at him, he shifted to the side and launched yet another axe, this time striking a grunt squarely in the chest. As the remaining yakuza grunts closed in from all sides, the intruder fired his shotgun, taking down one grunt and then another to his left. However, when he attempted to fire again, he heard a click.

He was out of ammo.

"He's out of shots!" one grunt exclaimed, his spirits lifted by the realization. "We can take him down!" Their optimism was short-lived, however, as the intruder swiftly produced his battle axe once more. "Oh, crap!"

The intruder charged at the remaining grunts, gripping his axe with both hands. With a swift swing, he embedded the weapon into a grunt's neck, then swiftly withdrew it and swung harder, decapitating the grunt as if he were felling a tree. The intruder spun his axe in his right hand before delivering a hard blow to another grunt's chest. Following up, he punched the second-to-last grunt in the face before delivering a mighty swing at the grunt's hip, cleaving through his organs and spine and literally cutting him in half.

"Oh shit, oh shit," the last grunt whispered as he dropped his crowbar, his eyes wide with fear. He saw the intruder approaching him and quickly began to walk backward. "Wait, wait, please, don't do this!" he begged, his hands raised pleading. The grunt stumbled backward, tripping over one of his dead comrades. "Look, please, I'll give you money! I'll work for you instead! Please, anything! Just-!" The intruder gripped his axe tightly, raising it high over his head. "No, no, no, no, nooooo!" With a swift and devastating swing, he brought the weapon down, cleaving the last grunt's head in two, the force of the blow splitting it apart like a watermelon.

Raising his axe from the grunt's skull, the intruder glanced toward a nearby door—the same one through which the grunts and Tsui had entered. Cracking his neck, he strode toward it, picking up a revolver from a fallen yakuza grunt as he advanced.

He wasn't done yet.

---

"Do you hear anything?" A grunt clad in a beige jacket asked.

"I don't know. Be quiet," hissed the yakuza dressed in a three-piece suit. His head was pressed against the cold metal door leading into the storage room, with ten other men behind him. Each wielded various melee weapons, including daggers, bats, and crowbars. One grunt even wielded a katana he had got from a meeting room. After Tsui was shot, he ordered the group to stay behind, lock the door, and guard it until the main force dealt with the intruder or in case of any unforeseen circumstances while he went to patch himself up. The main force was expected to swiftly eliminate the intruder, and all they had to do was unlock the door once the task was completed. It appeared straightforward, almost easy.

However, they soon realized how wrong they were.

The group became aware that something had gone terribly wrong when they heard the screams of their comrades. The yakuza grunt in the beige jacket cautiously unlocked the door, peering inside only to witness the gruesome slaughter of their fellow gang members. Reacting swiftly, he slammed the door shut and secured it tightly. The other men couldn't believe him when he told them what he was seeing, but the horrified, sweating look on his face, combined with the continuous dying screams from the other side of the door, showed he wasn't joking. All they could do was stay there terrified as one person was somehow wasting their ranks with chilling ease, tearing their comrades limb from limb as if they were mere playthings.

Then the screaming stopped, and all fell silent.

They stood there, paralyzed by uncertainty until the yakuza in the suit mustered the courage to command the grunt in the beige jacket to investigate the situation. However, the grunt adamantly refused. With a deep breath, the suited yakuza reluctantly leaned closer to the door, pressing his ear against its cold surface, straining to discern any sounds amidst the oppressive silence. Beads of sweat trickled down his cheeks and chin as he strained to detect even the slightest hint of movement or noise, but all he encountered was eerie silence.

"Do you think they got him?" asked a grunt, clutching a crowbar nervously.

"Are you kidding me? Did you hear those screams? They were getting slaughtered in there!" exclaimed another grunt, gripping a baseball bat tightly.

"There's no way. There's no way one guy can kill all those other guys, right? Right?!" voiced a third, his disbelief evident in his tone.

"We're going to die. We're going to fucking die!" Another grunt cried out in terror, his hands clenched tightly around his head.

"Will you all shut up?!" snapped the suit-wearing yakuza, promptly silencing the group. The suit-wearing grunt turned back to the door, still with a nervous expression and sweat dripping down his face. Taking a deep breath and a gulp of saliva that felt like a boulder in his throat, he spoke again. "I'm going to unlock the door."

"A-Are you sure?" One of the grunts asked, his voice trembling.

He nodded, albeit shakily. "Y-Yeah. I'm sure." With licked lips, the suit-clad grunt's hand reached the door's lock. His hands shook as he inched closer and closer to the metal lever keeping whatever was on the other side from them. His comrades tightly gripped their weapons, ready for anything, though the terrified looks on their faces showed they really weren't. Then he did it. The suit-wearing grunt put his hand on the small lever above the knob of the door. He slowly turned the knob to the left...

And the door immediately slammed open.

The sudden force of the door knocked the suit-wearing grunt on his butt. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, he was greeted with the barrel of a revolver belonging to the intruder. "Oh NO-!" He didn't get to finish as the bullet ripped through his eye and exited the back of his head.

The intruder acted swiftly. He shot the grunt wearing the beige jacket and then aimed at the grunt behind him.

"Wait, wait, wait-!" pleaded the grunt, raising his hands in surrender and dropping his bat. Despite the plea, the intruder shot him between the eyes without hesitation.

He would have continued shooting at the other grunts, but he realized the revolver he had picked up belonged to one of the last grunts who had attempted to shoot him in the storage room when he heard the revolver click. It was empty. The intruder glanced at his revolver, then back at the shocked grunts. With precision akin to one of his throwing axes, he hurled his empty gun at a grunt. The impact caused the grunt to recoil in pain as the intruder swiftly reached down to retrieve the bat from the gunt he killed. He spun the bat as he threw it up, skillfully catching it by its handle before swiftly charging at the seven remaining grunts. Like before, whether it was desperation or perhaps spurred by a bit of bravery, the grunts managed to knock themselves out of their shock and muster just enough determination to fight back.

The intruder gave a firm swing at the grunt's stomach, causing him to gasp for air as his body lurched forward. Following up swiftly, the intruder aimed another powerful swing at the grunt's face, drawing blood upon impact. In a fluid motion, he spun the bat between his fingers and struck once more, hitting the grunt's temple and sending him crashing.

Next in line were two grunts, one armed with a crowbar and the other unarmed. The intruder aimed a fast swing at the chin of the armed grunt, resulting in a sickening crack upon impact. Simultaneously, he gave a firm blow to the right cheek of the unarmed grunt before jabbing him hard in the chest with the tip of the bat, followed by a solid hit to his ribs.

Turning his attention back to the crowbar-wielding grunt, the intruder struck him squarely in the chest, causing him to stumble. As the grunt raised his right hand in a feeble attempt to block the next swing, he only succeeded in breaking his forearm, intensifying the pain. With his bat raised high, the intruder brought it down forcefully on the grunt's neck, effectively snapping it and killing him.

As the last four grunts charged at him, the intruder swiftly reacted. He swung at the chest of the grunt closest to him before giving a sideways upward hit at the grunt's bottom right chin with such force that it sent him flying off the ground before crashing to the floor.

As two more grunts attacked, the intruder continued fighting. He swung his bat at the grunt wielding a crowbar, but the grunt managed to block the hit with his weapon. Meanwhile, the second grunt, with another crowbar, swung at the intruder, prompting him to evade the attack by stepping back. Seizing the opportunity, the intruder swiftly retaliated by stepping forward and delivering a strong blow to the grunt's chest.

At that moment, the grunt wielding the katana stepped forward, pushing past his two comrades to join the fight. As the two enemies met, their weapons swung simultaneously, their strikes colliding and locking. The intruder shoved forward, overpowering the grunt and causing him to lose his grip on the katana. Seizing the opportunity, he followed up with a strong punch to the grunt's face, stunning him. The intruder then gave a forceful roundhouse kick, sending the grunt crashing to the ground.

Undeterred, the intruder pressed on, focusing his assault on one of the grunts armed with a crowbar. He swung his bat at the grunt's ribs, landing a solid blow. Without pause, he swiftly followed up with another powerful strike aimed at the same spot, this time much harder. The impact sent the grunt hurtling into the nearby wall with a resounding thud crack.

As the final grunt with the crowbar approached, horror spread across his face. He dropped his weapon in surrender and took a step back, raising his hands in a plea for mercy. "L-Look, I give up. P-P-Please, don't do this," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "See? I dropped my weapon! I won't fight you anymore, I promise!" The intruder advanced towards the last remaining grunt, his pace quickening with firmness. Seeing the intruder's approach, the grunt moved backward with increasing speed. "No, I said I give up! I said I give up!" he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation and fear.

Before the grunt could turn and flee, the intruder shoved him with his left hand and firmly gripped the handle of his metal bat. With both hands firmly grasping the bat, he wound up for a powerful swing, as if preparing to strike a baseball. Stepping forward, he unleashed a devastating upward swing, the bat connecting with the grunt's skull with a bone-crushing impact. The force of the blow shattered the skull into dozens of bloody, fragmented pieces, sending the grunt's body hurtling into the air before crashing back down to the ground.

The intruder offered a mocking salute to the fallen grunt as if to signal a triumphant "home run."

Dropping his bat, he noticed another grunt at the end of the hallway. Clad in a suit and armed with a katana, the cold look on his face and the absence of fear marked him as different from the men the intruder had previously met.

Quickly, the suit-wearing grunt opened a nearby door and darted inside before slamming it shut, with the intruder hot on his heels as he sprinted down the hall. Kicking the door open, he found himself in a small area flanked by shelves and boxes, with another metal door at the far end. As he moved to open it, he felt someone behind him. Turning, he found the suit-wearing grunt, his katana poised for attack. Ducking beneath the downward slash, the intruder sidestepped to the left to evade the attack. Seeing an opening, he drove his knee into the stomach of the suit-wearing grunt wielding the katana, causing him to stagger backward. With his fist raised, the intruder tried to punch the grunt's face. Anticipating the blow, the grunt raised his right forearm to block, but the intruder's movement was a feint. Instead of following through with the punch, he swiftly changed direction, driving his fist into the grunt's chest, aiming for his heart. Following up with a right hook, the intruder landed a hit to the side of the grunt's head. He then delivered a powerful kick, sending the grunt hurtling through the metal door and crashing to the ground on the other side.

Stepping over the fallen grunt, the intruder couldn't help but wonder where he had been hiding when he attempted to ambush him.

He continued on his journey, running down another hallway as he finally decided to reload his shotgun, replacing the empty magazine with a fresh new one that he had tucked away somewhere.

Unknown to him, the suit-clad grunt was still alive. Gritting his teeth through the pain in his body and the blood in his mouth, he struggled to sit up. With shaky hands, he pulled out a walkie-talkie, coughing before speaking into it.

"He's not dead. The bastard... he's not dead!"

---

"What do you mean he's not dead?"

In the heart of the Tojo building, Tsui, still nursing his injuries, relied heavily on his subordinate for assistance. With his arm draped over the other's shoulders and a makeshift bandage staunching his bleeding wounds, they navigated through the illuminated corridors. The call came over the radio, and as Tsui reached for the walkie-talkie, a spark of hope ignited that their issue had been resolved, only to be swiftly extinguished.

"Boss, the guy... the bastard... he's still alive!" The suited grunt's voice crackled urgently over the radio.

"What?!" Tsui's voice erupted with shock and disbelief. The intruder was not only alive but still wreaking havoc among them. "Are you sure?! You mean to say you didn't finish him off?!"

"Boss... Aniki... I'm dead serious!" The grunt's voice trembled with anger and urgency.

Tsui's fingers clenched around the radio, his grip tightening until his knuckles paled under the strain. With a guttural growl, he shoved away the underling supporting him, his anger boiling over. He lashed out, his fist connecting with the nearby wall with such force that it left a small, jagged hole in its wake.

"He's just one man!" Tsui's voice thundered. "How the hell is he doing this?!"

"I don't know! I don't know!" The grunt's panicked voice crackled over the radio. "But he's taking out everyone like it's nothing! He got Matsunaga, he got Miki, he got Kuwahara! I saw him smash Yoneda's skull with a damn bat! And he did it ALL BY HIMSELF! THIS GUY'S A DAMN PSYCHO!"

Tsui's assistant stared at the radio gripped tightly in his boss's hand, his eyes widening in disbelief, unable to fully grasp the gravity of what he had just heard. The assistant knew the guy on the other end of the radio. Yoneda, if he could remember. Yoneda was known for his unwavering resolve and determination. If even he sounded shaken, they were facing a heavy threat.

As Tsui's hand remained pressed against the wall, his grip tightening with each passing moment, he brought the radio to his ear and demanded, "Where is he now?"

"He's heading your way, boss," Yoneda's voice crackled over the radio, laced with pain and urgency. "I tried to hold him back, but he took me down hard. But I'm not done yet. I'm going after him. Boss, you got to do something. He's fucking dangerous."

Tsui lowered the radio, pondering Yoneda's words. With a determined expression, he withdrew his fist from the wall and tore off the blood-soaked bandages, with his wounds having already healed. Tsui pondered the identity of the mysterious intruder. Whether he was merely a member of a rival gang, a representative of a rival family, or simply a reckless vigilante, Tsui was resolute in his decision not to let this shit go unpunished.

"I believe it's time we stopped holding back, wouldn't you agree?" Tsui posed the question to his subordinate, his eyes ablaze with determination.

His underling caught the implication and hesitated before responding. "Aniki," he began cautiously. "Sir, are you certain?"

Tsui's countenance hardened. "Dead serious. This bastard invaded our base, killed our men, and is coming after all of us. Unless you want to die in your human form? Besides, we still need to make our real organization money, right?"

His subordinate grinned, a palpable sense of liberation in his demeanor as he shed his tie and jacket. "I was getting tired of that suit," he admitted, fully embracing his boss's resolution.

With a menacing grin, Tsui brought the radio to his lips and issued a command.

"Oi, you guys. It appears our uninvited guest is still causing trouble in our territory. But enough of the games. It's time to drop the act and embrace our true selves. If this intruder wants to fight us like a monster, let us show us what real monsters look like! He challenged us, killed our men, and now we're going to strike back, hard! Prepare yourselves, and tear him limb from limb!"

It was done.

The order was given.

Anyone alive knew what that meant.

It was time to party.

---

The intruder dashed along a hallway adorned with blue carpet, tightly clutching his shotgun. Reaching a corner, he swiftly turned, only to spot three additional thugs blocking his path to a staircase ascending at the far end of the hall. Among them, a towering figure caught his attention, easily surpassing the others in height, appearing to stand at six feet. His imposing size might have instilled fear in an ordinary person, but the intruder was far from ordinary. Oddly, they remained oblivious to his presence, preoccupied with something urgent. Their backs were turned, and they appeared tense while listening to something.

It was the perfect chance for a sneak attack.

Swiftly and silently, the intruder stowed his shotgun, leaving himself unarmed, and quickly moved toward the trio of unsuspecting goons. As he moved closer, he could hear shouting over what he assumed to be radios. Before long, he found himself positioned directly behind one of the grunts.

Without hesitation, he seized the goon by the neck and swiftly spun him around, forcing him to the ground. Startled, the other two grunts rushed to intervene. Maintaining his grip on the goon's neck, the intruder shifted his hands to the goon's head and twisted it with a decisive motion, snapping the grunt's neck. As the other goon lunged forward in retaliation, the intruder swiftly sidestepped, causing the goon to crash onto the carpeted floor. With the goon's face pressed against the ground, he was vulnerable to the intruder's strong stomp on his neck, resulting in another kill. The intruder swiftly raised his arms just in time to intercept the powerful blow aimed at him by the larger goon. To his surprise, he was sent flying several feet backward from the impact. Rolling on the ground, he quickly regained his footing and stood undeterred.

The large goon cracked his neck and assumed a defensive stance, arms outstretched. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. "You've made a big mistake coming here. It's time to stop playing nice! RAAAHHH!"

With a loud roar, the grunt's muscles swelled dramatically, straining against the confines of his suit, which began to tear at the seams. His skin shifted to a vivid green hue, his hands elongated into razor-sharp claws, and his skin became a rugged layer of scales. His head elongated and contorted, his eyes turning a menacing yellow with slitted pupils, while his mouth widened into a set of formidable jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth. With a final bellow, he declared, "You'll rue the day you messed with the Lizardmen! RAAAHHH!"

With wild fury, the Lizardman charged towards the intruder, effortlessly taking a nearby cabinet with both hands and wielding it as a makeshift weapon. With the cabinet raised menacingly, ready for a strike, the Lizardman unwittingly left his stomach vulnerable. Taking the chance, the masked intruder discharged his shotgun, sending several pellets tearing through the Lizardman's chest and torso. The Lizardman stumbled back for a moment, but only for a moment. "GRAAAHHH!" He yelled in rage as he brought the cabinet crashing down. Responding swiftly, the intruder rolled beneath the Lizardman's legs, narrowly avoiding being crushed. He was now kneeling behind the Lizardman, with the roll pulling back his hood and exposing his black hair. The Lizardman turned around and received another blast to the torso, staggering him again but not killing him. Before the monster could counter, the masked killer charged and jumped, giving a devastating dropkick aimed squarely at the Lizardman's face. The force of the impact dislodged a couple of the creature's sharp teeth as it tumbled to the ground, releasing its grip on the cabinet. Meanwhile, the intruder, also grounded, swiftly rolled aside to evade the plummeting cabinet and fired another shot at the downed Lizardman, this time at his head. In an instant, the left side of the monster's face erupted in a spray of flesh and bone fragments, finally dead.

Rising to his feet, the intruder approached the lifeless body of the Lizardman. As he stared at the monster's body through the black lens of his goggles, he rubbed the back of his head with his free arm, wondering what he had just gone through.

He didn't have much time to think as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing down the hallway.

It was Yoneda.

"You bastaaaaard!" Yoneda's voice reverberated as he charged forward. Like the guy he killed, he underwent a transformation into a Lizardman. Muscles bulged, teeth sharpened, and nails elongated into razor-sharp claws with each thunderous step. Yoneda lunged at the masked man like an angry alligator. The intruder discharged his weapon at the oncoming Lizardman's face, simultaneously sidestepping to evade the charging body. Yoneda's face collided with the bottom step with a sickening thud, blood spattering like a burst balloon of agony. Despite the gruesome impact, Yoneda miraculously remained alive.

With a sinister growl, Yoneda slowly rose to his feet, blood trickling down one side of his face, his eye now a blood-red hue from the pellet that struck his eyeball. He spun around, but Yoneda was met with a heavy, sharp blade as the intruder plunged an axe into his chest. The masked killer pulled his axe out of Yoneda's chest and quickly followed with another deep swing to the chest as Yoneda's body fell back on steps.

The intruder looked at Yoneda's body and the body of the Lizardman behind him. He shook his head, pulled up his hood, and continued forward. Again, wondering what he just went through.

Climbing the stairs, the intruder reached a landing only to be confronted by three more Lizardmen at the top. Moving quickly, he darted past two, narrowly evading their kicks and slashes. Now, on the next floor, with more space at his disposal, he prepared to confront them head-on.

The trio of Lizardmen surged forward, charging at him like ferocious beasts rather than humans like they used to be. They lunged at the intruder simultaneously. However, he rolled beneath them, causing the enraged attackers to collide with the floor behind him in a messy pile.

However, they quickly shook themselves off and got back on their feet. As one of the Lizardmen lunged once more, the masked killer responded with a powerful uppercut to the Lizardman's jaw, breaking most of his teeth and sending him flying upwards. Quickly, the intruder got his shotgun and unleashed three shots at the airborne Lizardman's body, each blast propelling him further upward, almost as if he were juggling the creature, before finally allowing its dead body to plummet back to the ground.

"I'll fucking murder you!" Shouted the second Lizardman as he lunged forward with a slashing attack. The intruder stepped backward, narrowly evading the fatal swipe. The relentless assault of slashes, claws, and bites from the Lizardman continued, but the masked killer effortlessly avoided each strike. Ducking, twisting his body, and sidestepping as if it were nothing, frustrating the Lizardman even further with each move. "Hold still!" roared the Lizardman as he lunged forward with his gaping maw. Instead of evading once more, the intruder swiftly raised his gun and fired directly into the Lizardman's open gullet. The Lizardman stumbled backward, clenching his mouth and throat in extreme pain as he felt his mouth burn and throat bleed with muffled yells. The intruder continued with a blast to the Lizardman's right knee, tearing through flesh and bone, causing him to collapse to the ground in anguish, where the masked killer finished him off with a blast to the chest.

"You fucking murdering bastard!" The intruder swiftly dodged backward to evade the incoming kick from the enraged Lizardman. With quick efficiency, the masked killer exchanged his shotgun for his axe and charged forward. Spinning around, he avoided the upward claw swipe aimed at him while simultaneously swinging his axe, burying it deep into the Lizardman's ribs. "GYAAAH!" In an attempt to retaliate, the Lizardman thrust his head downward, attempting to bite off the intruder's wrists, but the masked killer swiftly withdrew his axe before the creature could. The intruder spun around again and delivered a hard swing, striking the other side of the Lizardman's torso. "ARGH! GOD DAMN-!" He couldn't finish as the intruder brandished his shotgun and blasted the monster square in the stomach. Stumbling backward from the impact, the Lizardman attempted another lunge, only to be forcefully thrown back again by another blast, his back colliding with a metal door. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain, the Lizardman clutched his wounds with one clawed hand. As he lifted his head, he was met with a sudden and powerful dropkick to the face, driving him and the intruder into the next room. Collapsing against the cold floor, the Lizardman struggled to lift his head, only to find himself staring down the barrel of the intruder's gun. "You bast-!" his words were cut off abruptly as the pellets tore through his face and skull, ending his life abruptly.

Cracking his neck, the masked killer wasted no time and moved towards a nearby door he had spotted. However, his attention suddenly shifted as he heard approaching footsteps, prompting him to spin around to face the source of the sound.

It was Yoneda. Again.

The wounded Lizardman raised an arm and swung his claws down. The intruder agilely weaved out of harm's way, swiftly pressing his shotgun against Yoneda's stomach before decisively pulling the trigger. Yoneda's body flew through the air, crashing into nearby boxes with a resounding thud. A bit surprised to see the Lizardman still alive, the intruder shook his head in disbelief before firmly kicking down the door and resuming his rampage.

Faced with a fork in the hallway, the intruder weighed his options. One side revealed stacks of boxes atop a table, but on the other was a door with a glowing green sign above it that he couldn't read. Opting for the door with the green sign, he wasted no time rushing towards it, swiftly pushing it open.

He found himself outside as the air hit his exposed arms. He found himself standing upon a rusted fire escape, its tall structure comprised of massive steps and landings stretching upwards and downwards.

He went upwards.

As the intruder ascended the steps, he was suddenly confronted by two yakuza grunts. However, their initial hostility escalated as they caught sight of him, their angry shouts quickly transforming into guttural roars as they transformed into their Lizardman forms.

Not wasting any time, the intruder fired his shotgun at one of the Lizardmen, causing him to stagger backward in agony. Following up with another shot, he sent the monster crashing into a nearby safety railing. He aimed his gun at the Lizardman's head, ready to finish him off, only to be met with the click of an empty gun.

He was out of ammo again.

Still, he noticed that the guy had his back against the safety railing, which prevented the Lizardman from going over. The intruder stowed away his gun and sprinted towards the green-scaled Lizardman. He leaped into the air, his boots connecting squarely with the Lizardman's face. The monstrous creature could only widen its eyes in horror as it was propelled backward and down, his anguished scream echoing through the night air as it plummeted to its demise below.

Glancing over the railing to confirm the Lizardman's fate, the intruder barely had time to react as the Lizardman lunged forward with a claw swipe. He dodged under the swing before kicking the monster back. "You son of a bitch!" the Lizardman cried out in anger. "That was my brother-in-law!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with fury and grief.

Pulling out and gripping his axe tightly, the intruder charged towards the nearby steps leading upward. He launched off the steps, swinging his axe downward with all his might. The Lizardman raised both arms to block the blow, but all he did was embed the axe's blade into his forearms. The Lizardman growled as he stared into the lens of the killer's goggles. "You'll pay for this! Do you know who the fuck we are?!" the Lizardman roared in distress and fury. Quickly, the intruder reached behind him, grasping one of his throwing axes. Before the monster could react, he brought the axe across the Lizardman's neck. Blood erupted from the wound, spilling out like a fountain as the beast desperately clutched at its neck, trying to stem the torrent of blood with both hands. He fell to his knees, then his side. As he bled out, he could only watch as the intruder ran up the metal steps, leaving him to die.

Quickly ascending to the next floor, the intruder barreled towards the metal door, using his right shoulder as a battering ram. However, to his surprise, the door remained firmly shut. Undeterred, he kicked the door. He kicked it again and again, each impact reverberating outside. Yet, despite his efforts, the door stubbornly refused to open.

Stepping back, he noticed a nearby window. Although the lights were on inside the room, he couldn't tell if it was occupied since the floor didn't extend far enough to give a clear view through the window. That said, it looked like he could get into the window if he jumped off the safety railing. That is if he could make the jump.

Glancing over the railing, he eyed the sheer drop down to the concrete below. If he failed to make this jump, he would meet the same fate as the Lizardman he took out earlier. Nevertheless, the intruder had to make progress somehow.

He patted himself first, making sure he wouldn't lose his weapons. Taking a few steps back, he inhaled deeply, the sound audible through his respirator. With determination, he broke into a sprint. Closing the distance, he reached the railing, using it as a launching point. He pushed himself forward, crashing through the glass window with a resounding impact. As the glass shattered and the window's frame crashed to the floor the intruder landed on his feet as shards pelted his back and his protected face, smoothly sliding through the broken glass.

As it turned out, the intruder had landed in a restroom.

"What the fuck?!" cried out one yakuza grunt who was facing a urinal alongside another. They immediately zipped up their flies to confront the new arrival.

"Who's that?!" another grunt questioned as he spun around from the nearby mirror above the sink.

"Shit! It's the guy! He's the guy killing our men!" A grunt yelled, pointing at the intruder in realization.

The masked man cracked his neck and pulled out his axe, twirling it around before easily catching it in his grip.

"All right, then. Let's do this!" One grunt shouted to his comrades. In unison, all five underwent their monstrous transformation into Lizardmen, their bodies tearing and ripping through the fabric of their clothes until their true forms appeared. "Come get some, bastard!" they roared in unison, their voices echoing with primal rage.

One of the Lizardmen charged forward, his claws slashing through the air in an attempt to strike the masked man. However, the intruder effortlessly dodged backward. He propelled himself forward, using his back foot for leverage as he swung his axe. The blade embedded halfway into the Lizardman's neck with a sickening thud. He swiftly withdrew his axe before delivering another powerful swing, cleanly severing the Lizardman's head from its body.

Still spinning from the momentum of his swing, the intruder swiftly reached behind him, grabbing a throwing axe with his left hand. He launched the axe, sending it hurtling through the air and finding its mark, embedding itself into one of the eyes of the other Lizardman. The axe lodged itself deeply into the Lizardman's eye and cheek, prompting a guttural roar of agony from the creature as it writhed on the floor in pain. "GYARGH!"

"You piece of shit!" Another Lizardman roared, his voice filled with rage as he charged at the masked killer, accompanied by two more of his brethren. The intruder gripped his battle axe firmly, assuming a batting stance reminiscent of preparing to hit a baseball. As the three Lizardmen closed in, the masked man stood, patiently waiting for the moment. Then, as they entered his range, he sprang into action. With a small hop and a big, mighty swing, he slashed all three Lizardmen across their bodies, hitting either their chests or torsos while knocking them off their feet. Spinning around using his right foot, he delivered another equally powerful swing, brutally tearing through all three Lizardmen's bodies like it was nothing. Blood, bits of flesh, and organs splattered across the bathroom floor in the wake of his charged attack.

All that was left was the Lizardman with the wounded eye, who watched what the masked man did in horror. "Holy shit... holy shit...!"

Fixing his gaze on one of the restroom stall doors, the intruder walked towards it. With a strong grip, he took the door and tore it off its hinges. He then strode over to the downed Lizardman, confused at what he was doing, but fear still present on his face. Without a word, the intruder shrugged before delivering a hard crash across the Lizardman's face with the torn-off door. The hit knocked several of the Lizardman's teeth out, sending them scattering across the floor. Another powerful strike across the face caused even more teeth to be dislodged, adding to the growing pile of debris.

"Wait, wait, please-!" The Lizardman's plea was cut short as he raised his left claw, while the other hand held his bleeding eye. "No-!"

The intruder slammed the door down hard. He then proceeded to beat the Lizardman to death, whacking, slamming, and crushing his head with the door over and over as blood, meat, and skull were in a crushed mess on the floor. When he was done, he dropped the bloody and broken door.

Just then, another door slamming open echoed through the restroom.

Stomping into the room was a familiar face.

It was Yoneda.

Again.

The intruder couldn't help but tilt his head in astonishment over the fact that this Lizardman was still alive despite getting shot in the face and gut and getting axed in the torso. Yoneda remained in his monster form, but now adorned with bandages wrapped tightly over his scarred face, eye, and torso, blood still seeping through the fabric. And was that a grenade belt wrapped around him? Wrapped around his chest like a sash were a line of green-colored grenades. It looked like he upped the ante.

Yoneda's one good eye darted around the restroom, taking in the scene of devastation: the carnage, the lifeless bodies of his fallen comrades, and the blood-soaked guts strewn across the tiled floor. His gaze returned to the intruder, who stood before him with an air of casualness.

Seeing the intruder standing before him with such indifference only stoked Yoneda's anger further. Here was this assailant, seemingly unfazed by the carnage he had wrought upon their comrades and now intent on targeting their boss. The pain from his wounds only fueled Yoneda's fury, intensifying his resolve to exact vengeance upon the intruder for the devastation he had caused.

"Graaahhh!" Yoneda's roar echoed through the restroom as he swung his claw downward in a diagonal arc. The masked man ducked to the left, narrowly evading the attack as Yoneda found himself behind the intruder. He cracked his neck and raised his fists, refraining from using either his axe or shotgun, the latter especially since it was still empty.

He was going to do this the old-fashioned way.

Yoneda roared ferociously as he thrust both claws forward. The intruder easily avoided the assault by jumping back. Seizing the opportunity presented by the opening, he grabbed Yoneda by the ruined collar of his suit. He raised his right fist and punched Yoneda in the wounded side of his face, hard. He punched him again and again raining down blows upon the Lizardman, each punch tearing through the bandages on his face and drawing forth more blood. Finally, he gave a forceful headbutt that sent Yoneda stumbling backward, crashing into the sink.

Yoneda shook his head. When he opened his good eye and turned to look at the intruder, he immediately felt his hand cover his face. The masked man grabbed Yoneda's scaly face tightly, pulled back, and slammed the wounded side against the edge of the sink. He quickly let go and followed it up with a hard kick, splattering blood across the sink and mirror, before grabbing him again and tossing him backward.

Yoneda rolled across the restroom floor, his body coated in the entrails and blood of his fallen comrades. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving with exertion as he locked eyes with the intruder, who stood before him. Unlike Yoneda, the intruder showed no signs of fatigue or exhaustion.

He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Grrrgh! I fucking hate you!" Yoneda shouted, his voice filled with seething rage. With a primal instinct, he thrust his head forward, attempting to lunge for a bite, but the masked man sidestepped to the right, evading the attack. He delivered a hard punch to Yoneda's neck with his right hook, followed swiftly by a strike to the Lizardman's injured eye with his left hand. The intruder swiftly turned his body, evading the downward swing of Yoneda's claw. Seizing the opportunity, he dashed to the side again, delivering two strong jabs into Yoneda's wounded stomach.

Yoneda staggered backward, his head colliding with the unforgiving wall behind him. A surge of agony shot through him as the masked killer took the wounded side of his head, forcefully pressing his thumb into his injured eye. The intruder then hurled Yoneda towards the window through which he had entered. Yoneda's body turned and his stomach collided with the edge of the window, almost knocking the wind out of him.

Still, he wasn't done.

Despite the searing pain engulfing his body and the overwhelming agony threatening to consume him, Yoneda refused to yield. With steely perseverance, he reached down and plucked one of the grenades from his sash, a sinister grin spreading across his scaly features as he held the explosive in his claws. This was his trump card, his final gambit in a desperate bid to turn the tide of the battle.

"Eat this, you son of a-!" Yoneda's voice was filled with hateful rage as he spun around, clutching the grenade tightly in his hand. His intention was clear: to pull the pin with his thumb and blow the fuck the asshole up. But before he could act, the intruder saw what he was trying to do when he noticed his arm go down to his sash and acted first.

The intruder seized Yoneda by his open jaws, one hand gripping the top while the other clamped down on the bottom. His fingers plunged into the wet confines of Yoneda's mouth as he held him in a vice-like grip. With a quick and brutal motion, he forcefully ripped Yoneda's jaws wide open.

As the intruder forcefully tore Yoneda's jaws apart, the edges of his mouth ripped apart as if they were made of paper, and his jaw hung limply, resembling nothing more than a broken chicken leg.

Whether from the excruciating pain, the shock of the brutal move, or a combination of both, Yoneda's grip on the grenade faltered, causing it to slip from his grasp. The pin remained firmly in place, preventing the explosive device from exploding—at least for the moment.

The intruder seized the grenade sash from Yoneda's body and tossed it aside. Gently, of course. Then, without missing a beat, he retrieved the grenade that Yoneda had dropped and threw it into the air with ease, catching it skillfully like a seasoned baseball player preparing to pitch.

Behind his goggles, the intruder's eyes flickered between the grenade in his hand and the gaping hole that used to be Yoneda's mouth. In a swift and sudden motion, he shoved the explosive down Yoneda's throat, causing the Lizardman to gag and choke as it went deeper into his mangled jaws. Then, with a flick of his thumb, he flicked the pin off.

With a shove from both hands, the intruder forced the Lizardman's mangled form out of the window. He watched as Yoneda's body plummeted several stories down the side of the building, arms resting on the window's edge. Then, just as it neared the second to last floor...

BOOM!

The explosion reverberated through the building, shaking its foundations and sending shockwaves rippling through the air as Yoneda's body was consumed by the detonation of the grenade.

There was no way he was coming back after that.

With a mocking thumbs-up to the Lizardman, the masked man turned on his heel and strode across the restroom floor. He casually retrieved the grenade sash, draping it over his head and securing it around his body. Stepping over the lifeless bodies of the fallen Lizardmen and the debris scattered from their fight, he navigated the scene with the nonchalance of someone sidestepping a spill in a supermarket aisle. Finally, he reached the door of the bathroom, ready to continue.

---

As the masked man stepped out of the bathroom, he was greeted by a stark contrast to the cold, dingy confines he had just left behind. Gone were the bland, white, or beige hallways with piles of junk and tables cluttering the sides. Instead, he was met with a scene that seemed to belong to an entirely different building altogether. The hallway before him boasted clean, luxurious red carpeting underfoot, while the tall ceiling stretched upward. The walls were coated in rich wooden varnish, exuding an air of refinement that clashed starkly with the previous environment.

It was a sight that caught the masked man off guard. It was like a five-star hotel. He spun around, taking in the sight of the lavish hallway as a part of him couldn't help but admire the cleanliness. The masked man's moment was abruptly broken as he pivoted his body to avoid the bullet aimed at him. Caught mid-turn, he adjusted his chest slightly to the left, narrowly evading the shot as it embedded itself into one of the wooden walls nearby. He turned his head to the right. There, he spotted another yakuza grunt, armed with a Desert Eagle and surprisingly shirtless.

The grunt stood in front of a wooden archway, something else he didn't expect to see in this building, and behind him was another door. He glared hatefully at the intruder. "You'll pay for what you did here. You won't get to the boss!"

As the yakuza grunt fired another shot, the intruder ducked to dodge the bullet. While crouched, he threw one of his throwing axes at the grunt. It didn't hit him in the face and kill him, but it did embed itself in the back of the grunt's right hand. "Argh!" The grunt's yell echoed through the hallway as he dropped his gun, his injured hand now in searing pain as he used his other to tightly hold it. As the grunt looked up, he was met with a swift fist to the face. The force of the blow sent him staggering backward, his body tumbling awkwardly under the wooden archway.

The grunt shook his head, clenching his teeth in anger. "You asshole!" He lifted his head up, his skin turning into scales, but he was greeted with the barrel of his Desert Eagle. "Ah-!" The intruder pulled the trigger. The intruder pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out sharply, the bullet tearing through the grunt's right eye, effectively ending his life before he could undergo his transformation.

Just to be safe, the masked man shot him again in the other eye. Yoneda's image was still fresh in his mind.

Stepping over the grunt's body, he went under the archway and opened the wooden sliding doors that led into the next room.

---

Once again, the room the intruder entered was a stark departure from the one he had just left. It wasn't as tall as the hallway, but still big. Wooden frames and golden-painted trims decorated the ceiling, while several large chandeliers hung from above, radiating a warm, lavish glow across the space. The floor, too, was made of polished wood, adding to the sense of richness and refinement. Adorning the walls were paintings portraying scenes of epic warfare, featuring animals, people, samurai, and ninjas locked in fierce combat across carefully detailed landscapes, adding to the room's atmosphere.

The intruder couldn't help but whistle behind his mask.

At the center of it all sat the head honcho of the complex, Tsui Kuze.

Seated in the center of the room, Tsui Kuze remained still, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the masked man by looking at him. Despite the intruder's steps, Tsui stayed silent, his expression hidden as he turned his back. His business coat draped around him, resembling a regal cape in the room's light.

"So... you're finally here," Tsui Kuze's voice broke the silence. "You managed to take out everyone. Everyone... except for me... I'm actually impressed." His words bore a mix of acknowledgment, tinged with slight undertones of anger, frustration, and begrudging respect for the intruder's actions. "You know, under better circumstances, I could see you working for me. With your skills, we could've run this town in no time. Still, you came barging in here and killed my men, and I can't let that slide, and now you're here to kill me. For what? For revenge? For money? Or are you trying to play superhero with that get-up?"

He chuckled at the last remark as he began to rise. His business jacket slipped off, exposing numerous scars. From the top of his back and neck down to his waistline, there were slash marks, cuts, and even bite marks scattered across his muscular back. It was a tapestry, a living reminder, and a sign showing his years of battle and experience.

"Do you have any idea what you've started tonight?" He questioned. "I still don't know how you, one fucking guy, managed to take care of a bunch of Lizardmen by yourself, but you've already seen with your own eyes we're not just some run-of-the-mill yakuza group. We're-"

In a split second, Tsui found himself face-to-face with a grenade, the world slowing down around him. From his peripheral vision, he caught sight of the intruder already aiming at him with the Desert Eagle he had picked up. The intruder fired his gun, targeting the grenade he had thrown. As the bullet met its mark, Tsui's breath caught in his throat.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the ornate room, sending tremors through its elegant surroundings. The chandeliers swung above while the nearby sliding doors rattled in their frames. The masked killer swiftly raised his left arm and twisted his body. It wasn't the billowing smoke he was concerned about. His respirator and goggles had him covered in that regard, but rather the flying shrapnel propelled by the grenade's explosion. As he lifted his head and lowered his arms, he finally took the time to reload his shotgun again while looking at the smoke cloud where Tsui was, shaking his head. Turning around, the masked killer took only a few steps before the sound of groaning caught his attention. He lowered his head and sighed.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

Turning around, the smoke from the grenade started to disperse. From the clearing, black cloud, the intruder could see the leader of the Lizardmen group kneeling on the ground. Tsui Kuze's appearance was scarred by the bomb's blast. The right half of his body was blackened and charred, his arm shredded and bleeding from shrapnel, and his right leg similarly injured. The left half of his body had already been transformed into his monster form. It was bigger than any of the Lizardmen the intruder killed earlier. Overall, Tsui's body looked wrong as it appeared the explosion caught him mid-transformation, and his human form was dangling from his monster form like a brunt piece of steak.

Even then, despite the pain, the leader of the building still looked at the intruder with fury and hatred in his eyes. The right side of his face retained its human features, albeit marred by burns and shrapnel wounds, while the left was still Lizardman. It looked like his human face was literally melting into his monster face.

"You little... piece of SHIT!" Tsui growled. Bones started to snap and crack, and muscles stretched and elongated. Tsui's human hand punched the floor, creating a small crater as it morphed and grew to the same giant size, matching his other clawed hand. "You're going to die... you know that?!" Tsui got on all fours. However, the pain in his back leg caused him to stumble, and he hit his face against the ground. His scorched skin and wounds began to extend out, exposing them further and making them worse. "You are going to suffer... and you are going to die!" He turned his head as a sickening crack echoed through the room as his skull shifted and pushed outward to match the left side, the burnt skin splitting further, blood dripping onto the wooden floors. He coughed, spitting out lumps of blood. "I'm going to eat you alive and shit your bones out!"

Tsui rushed forward on all four limbs, claws clattering and scraping against the wooden floor. The intruder fired his shotgun into Tsui's wounded, charred side, but the Lizardman continued to advance. As he moved backward, still aiming at the oncoming threat, he fired again, this time targeting the undamaged side of Tsui's body. Despite the second shot, Tsui continued in his advance. He lunged at the masked man with open jaws, resembling an angry alligator, but the intruder narrowly dodged by diving forward to Tsui's right side, getting behind him. He rolled, swiftly returning to his feet as Tsui swiftly turned around. With a snarl, the Lizardman charged once more at the intruder. Despite firing his shotgun again, the blast hitting Tsui square in the chest as he lifted his body mid-charge, the Lizardman kept going. The intruder turned and ran, dashing around Tsui as the enraged Lizardman pursued him like a rabid dog. The masked man spun around, firing another shot at Tsui's chest, but he continued to run. Another shot in the same spot failed to deter him as he continued his chase.

The intruder came to a sudden halt, digging the heels of his boots into the floor as he skidded to a stop. Swapping his shotgun for his battle axe, he turned to face the incoming Lizardman and charged straight at him. Tsui leaped into the air, and on the way down, he swung his claws downward at the masked man. Seeing this, the intruder rolled, tumbling underneath the monster as he passed over his head.

Quickly getting up, he ran forward with his axe raised, but he immediately jumped back when Tsui turned his body while swinging his right hand. The back of his claw slammed into the wooden floor, cracking it and making a small hole. Unfazed, the masked man pressed on, swinging his axe at the burnt side of the Lizardman's face before delivering a downward strike, cleaving into his right shoulder. He pulled his axe out and swung across the Lizardman's chest, creating a large gash amidst the bullet holes before dodging backward again to avoid another angry swing directed at him.

The intruder lunged forward, swinging his axe into Tsui's left ribs. He pulled it out and struck again, hitting the same spot in his right shoulder. "GRARGH! I'm so SICK of you!" Enraged, the Lizardman reached out with both hands to grab the masked man, but he only caught empty air as the intruder leaped back again.

An idea formed in the masked killer's head. The intruder quickly got into a sprint and ran around the angry Lizardman. He moved straight into Tsui's back, climbing up his rear with his boots pounding into his scaly rear and grabbing onto his head.

"Let go!" Tsui shouted.

The Lizardman turned and angrily moved his head around like a mad bull, but the intruder held on. Using one of his free hands to dig into the rough and burnt side of Tsui's head, the intruder swung his body around his head so that he was now facing the angry monster. He pulled back his hand, still gripping his axe, and punched Tsui in his snout hard enough to draw blood before kicking him equally as hard under his chin. Using the momentum from the kick, the masked man flipped through the air and landed safely on the ground while Tsui fell backward and hit the floorboards hard.

The Lizardman groaned and coughed up blood, but he wasn't finished. Whether driven by adrenaline, pain, or sheer rage, Tsui rolled over. He gripped the wooden floorboards tightly, digging his claws so intensely that he broke them.

"I clawed my way out from the gutter, fought dozens of battles to earn my place here, carried out dozens of raids without problem, amassed an army of trained fighters, and eliminated countless threats to our organization. I WON'T LOSE TO SOME GODDAMN NO-NAME BASTARD!"

Tsui shouted angrily at the intruder.

He lifted his head...

...only to be immediately greeted with another grenade inches away from his face.

Once again, from his peripheral vision, he saw the intruder already aiming at the grenade with his Desert Eagle. The intruder raised his left hand, opening and closing it as if to say goodbye, and fired his gun. The bullet soared through the air and struck the grenade.

The result was also the same.

The bomb exploded, shaking the ornate room and sending tremors throughout.

The masked man didn't bother protecting himself this time. He dropped the now-spent Deagle and approached the smoke cloud, swapping it out for his combat shotgun. As the smoke died down, he could hear gasping. Looking down, he saw the sorry state of the Lizardman.

He looked terrible.

His left arm was gone. Well, not entirely, as he could see the severed limb lying not too far from Tsui. All that remained was a stump with the bone protruding from it. The grenade had shredded him badly, with pieces of flesh missing. His ribcage was exposed to the air, and the side of his face had taken the worst of it. The blast had ripped off the skin and flesh, revealing the white skull beneath as blood dripped down.

Despite the grievous injuries, Tsui was still alive, but he was in no state to keep fighting. He still gasped for air as he choked on blood and shrapnel. His eye, its eyelid blown apart and exposed to the air, quaked and shook as the barely visible pupil darted back and forth. It then focused on the intruder.

The masked man stood above the dying Lizardman, aiming his combat shotgun at his head to finish him off.

"You have no idea... what you've done here..." Tsui gasped, struggling to breathe through his ripped neck. "...Do you know who I am? Who I... belong to? Fairy Tale... will hunt you down—"

Tsui's sentence was abruptly cut short as the man squeezed the shotgun's trigger. In an instant, the left side of the lieutenant's head erupted like a burst water balloon, sending fragments of skull, flesh, and brain matter spraying out in a hideous display.

Regardless, Tsui Kuze was finally dead.

Just then, the intruder heard something faint. It took him a moment to recognize the sound: police sirens. He looked toward one of the sliding doors and realized the noise was coming from that direction. Pulling the door back, he saw an open window. He walked over and looked outside.

He was looking at the side of a building, and the widow he was looking out of was hovering above an alley, but when he turned to the left, he could make out a road, a sidewalk, and cars and people passing by on said road. However, he noticed a crowd, just over a dozen, converging on where he was. The intruder realized why: the grenades, the gunshots, the screaming, everything. Some people probably heard the noise and called the police, hence the sirens.

On cue, he could make out a black and white car with flashing red lights on top pass by the entrance alleyway.

The police were coming.

He needed to move.

Looking up, he noticed the edges of the buildings were close. He could hop from one to another. It was better than nothing.

He quickly ran around, searching for a way to the roof, opening each sliding door until he finally found another hallway. He sprinted down it, opening each door he came across, even kicking some open when they were locked, looking for a stairwell that led up. Thankfully, he found what he was looking for when he kicked open another locked door. He ran up the steps, past the landing, up some more steps, and burst through the metal door.

The cold air hit the intruder through the filters of his respirator as he arrived at the building's roof. It was vast and spacious, with lights on the safety railings illuminating the area. Aside from a big air vent, it was empty. No one was up here aside from him.

He could hear the sirens better now, but they were still feint. The masked man walked over to the railings and looked down.

Several stories below, the crowd had grown larger. Dozens of people surrounded the building with their phones taking pictures, held back by barriers the police had set up. Speaking of the police, he saw them already entering the building with their guns drawn.

He saw everything.

The people, the cars, the bright lights and signs, the buildings, even the night sky. He saw it all.

And everything looked wrong.

All of it.

It looked wrong.

The people were wrong.

The cars were wrong.

The buildings were wrong.

The bright neon signs were wrong.

All of it was wrong.

His eyes darted around, searching for something familiar, but he found nothing.

Everything was wrong.

Everything was different.

"Look!" A voice abruptly broke the intruder's focus. "There's someone up there!"

Back on the ground, a civilian pointed up at the intruder. Soon enough, the crowd followed suit, with some lifting their phones to snap pictures. The masked man immediately let go of the railing and backed up to avoid being seen. Spotting the ledge he had noticed earlier, he sprinted toward it. It was a bit far and slightly taller than the building he was on, but it looked like he could make it if he got a running start and grabbed on. If he didn't, he was going to fall to his death.

No pressure.

The masked man walked to the other side of the roof to maximize his space for a running start. He patted himself down, ensuring everything was secure and his weapons wouldn't fall off. He took one last breath as he rubbed his hands and stared at the spot he needed to grab on.

He ran.

He ran swiftly, nearing the building's railing. The masked man leaped onto the rail and kicked off it, propelling himself upwards just enough to grab onto the ledge of the adjacent building. He hung there for less than a second before using his strength to pull himself up and onto the top, over the ledge, rolling onto the cold roof and onto his belly.

The intruder had to keep moving, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the police. He pushed himself up and ran to the next edge. Thankfully, the next building was much closer, meaning he didn't need as much of a running start as before. However, better safe than sorry.

He repeated the process. The intruder ran back and forth on every new building he landed on before jumping to the next, getting further away from the police. If the building wasn't close enough to jump, he'd go around the roof to search for one that was a jump on that one. He started going in a straight line before going downward, upward, upward again, straight, downward, downward, and downward again.

Running and jumping.

Running and jumping.

After landing on what was possibly the thirteenth building, the intruder looked back and could barely hear the sirens anymore. Panting hard, he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He then walked over to a nearby vent and sat down, leaning against it.

The masked man grabbed his hood and pulled it off his shoulders, dropping it on the floor like a rag. Next were the goggles, which he removed, revealing his black pupils as he dropped them on his hood. Lastly, he removed the respirator. With his right hand, the intruder grabbed his mask and pulled it upwards, the black straps sliding over his ears and black hair.

As he looked up at the dark night sky, the masked man, the intruder, our protagonist, Russell, couldn't help but ask in English:

"Where the fuck am I?!"

---

Somewhere in Nevada...

---

Within a hidden location, known only to a select few within a building equally unrecognized, and in a room that was just as, were two people. The boards nailed to the room's windows were random and slanted, not fully covering them, allowing the red light from outside to shine through. Arranged in an arch across the walls were numerous monitors and pieces of machinery, their screens filled with red-colored text and code. Large cables sprawled across the floor, connecting these machines and monitors, with some extending from the walls themselves.

"Readouts look good. We're ready to initiate the procedure." Someone said. That person was Doc, reading the process's results on one of the screens. He was telling this to the person lying next to him on a gurney; that other person was Russell, who had his eyes closed.

"Urgh... ugh..." The black-haired young man groaned from the gurney.

Doc hummed, hearing his discomfort. "I see you're feeling sick. Don't worry, it will pass." He reassured him. "Let's get started and imprint you with an identity before sending you after the Mandatus."

"Argh... Urgh!" Russell grunted again. His eyes and cheeks twitched as his head snapped left and right. He bent his arms, his hands jerking while his feet twisted and his knees flexed.

Doc's attention from the computer screen went to the youngster on the wheeled stretcher. "Russell, are you okay?"

"RAAAAAHHH!" Russell's eyes burst open as his body snapped upwards. His head started to twitch and shake at surprising speeds. Up and down, back and forth, or around in random directions that seemed impossible for the human body to do. Russell turned his body and moved his legs to get off the gurney, but as he did, his arms started to mimic the insane, fast-moving spasms on his head; his arms, hands, and fingers twitched, spun, and bent in random directions at insane speeds that they looked like blurs. As he stepped off the gurney, it spread to the rest of his torso as it bent backward, forward, and side to side along with his head and arms. The only thing that wasn't affected was Russell's legs as he clumsily and slowly managed to walk.

All the while, he continued to scream.

His yells soon started to distort and warp, and his rapidly shaking body parts began to pixelate. The contortions grew even worse as his head, torso, and arms morphed in grotesque directions, melding into blobs of flesh and bits. For a small moment, Russell's body regressed to its initial shape, but it was as if his body was made of pixels, like an old 8-bit character from an old video game.

"GUAAAAAHHH!"

He let out one final scream as his body exploded in a flurry of pixelated pieces. The broken bits that used to be Russell floated in the air before vanishing like dust in the wind.

Just like that, he was gone, leaving Doc the only one in the room as he stared at the spot where Russell had disappeared.

"That's not good."

---

A/N: You would not BELIEVE how long it took to write this. Free Grammarly sucks, but it gets the job done.