My Hokuto Academia

I DO NOT own Hokuto no Ken or My Hero Academia, they belong to their respective creators, Tetsuo Hara, Buronson, and Kohei Horikoshi. Support the official releases, especially of Souten no Ken. Oh, but the Viz Media version of Fist of the North Star is releasing this year.

Chapter Sixty-Two: Slow Progress

Martigues, France

A small apartment near the harbor was red in coloration, with two windows, and a small door at the bottom. It was also late at night. Inside was a simple bedroom, complete with messy sheets. The person sleeping in was snoring peacefully...

BRINGGG! BRING!

"Qui a m'appelé à cette heure-ci?" muttered the man, annoyed by the loud ringtone of his cell phone going off. "Je jure devant Dieu que si c'est un télévendeur... Dieu sait ce que je vais faire."

The cell phone's ring tone increased in volume, prompting him to look at the Caller ID, which was labeled Private Number. He answered the phone, growling at who was at the other end of the line.

"Vous appellez vraiment à une heure tardive, alors dites-moi qui-"

"Now, now, Jourdain. " The man was silenced by the response on the other line. " Is that any way to talk to the one who has been taking care of your debts?" Jourdain could definitely hear a smirk on the other end.

"S-Sorry f-for that, All For One," sputtered Jourdain in fear. "W-What can I do you for?"

"Oh, quite simple. I do need your assistance with a big job. You are to help two members of my League of Villains, specifically after they complete their objective. In fact, they should have arrived two nights ago." All For One said. Jourdain was a bit surprised but knew there was a catch to it.

The guard was wondering which pri-wait, his mind went to the two that arrived around that same time frame. One was definitely a mercenary and the other one had extensive burns on his body.

"Did one happen to have burns...?" asked Jourdain. The silence was his answer. "Oh... that one. Was another one a mercenary?" The only answer was silence again. "Y-You're kidding me... those are your associates? I was right to introduce them to the underground fighting ring then." His tone changed.

"Excellent. You do remember your debt to me?" asked All For One.

"Yes... my debts are 82% clear..."

"You assist my two associates and your debts will be - 100 - percent - cleared." All For One said with emphasis. "You can do whatever you wish after. Go on a vacation somewhere, I heard Madrid is lovely this time of year."

"Right..." Jourdain replied nervously.

"It seems you are quite familiar with both of them already."

"How can I not? They're the same ones who caused quite the commotion in the cafeteria the other day," he said. "If they were-"

"You have the layout of Erinyes and tell me, is there a radio tower of sorts?" All For One asked. The response was silence. Albeit for a few moments.

"Y...yes. How exactly will I establish contact with you? Erinyes only has a couple of secure channels for communication with mainland France."

There was a small bit of laughter on the other end, unnerving Jourdain.

"You underestimate the resources I have at my disposal, especially for establishing contact with a radio tower on an island. However, there is a timetable: I will give you a week."

"Why a week?" Jourdain asked, curious. "Why that long?"

"I gave my two operatives a mission: recruiting prisoners from Erinyes. All to build the League of Villains to be stronger."

"I see your game... wait, the only way for that to happen is if a riot... was... to..." the guard said, trailing off. The supervillain on the other end was giggling a bit, almost like a teacher proud of a student getting the first part of a question right.

"A riot? That's an excellent suggestion! The perfect way to cover their escape and also cause some public trust to go down the drain too!" responded All For One. "What do you say, Jourdain?"

"G-Give me a minute," stammered Jourdain. He started pacing around his apartment, wondering what to do. On one hand, his debts would be cleared and nothing would hold him back. On the other hand, he's crossing the line into full-on treason. As he's thinking it over, he remembers why he was in the supervillain's debt, to begin with.

"Your decision...?"

"Remember how I was in your debt?"

"Ah, I remember. A mix of gambling and a rude loan shark. You were desperate to get out of that situation by any means," stated All For One. Jourdain nodded over the phone.

"...yes. You practically saved me. And like always, I paid on time no matter what," Jourdain responded. "I'm glad you kept other loan sharks away from me too."

"As much as I like reminiscing, what is your decision?" interjected All For One. The guard took a deep breath, steadying himself because, at this point, he would be past the point of no return. He was aiding a supervillain, there was no way of cutting it.

"I... I will assist."

"Excellent. However, if you back out or spill this to any authority... I don't need to remind you what I did to the last loan shark who kept harassing you." There was no hidden malice in his voice, it was spoken as fact. Jourdain gulped in response, remembering the screams.

"I want to know, there's no hidden deal or surprise, right?" The guard asked, wanting to be sure there was no trap.

"When have I ever deceived you? Most of all, you're reliable when it comes to paying your debt. Why would I stab someone like that in the back?" answered All For One. Jourdain understood the message and made the fateful decision to hang up. As soon as he did, he fell to the floor, hyperventilating. Trying to slow his breathing down, he spoke to himself.

"Okay... okay... I just agreed to... break out... two... notorious convicts..." the guard said between breaths. "There's... no... going back... after this," as the breaths between words dissipated. He clutched his head, now wondering how this plan, or whatever it can be called, can work.

Undisclosed Lair

"That was a productive conversation, don't you think so?" All For One asked the doctor, and the pudgy doctor snorted. "This only confirms that Jourdain won't flake out."

"Master, I don't need to remind you that Jourdain could still turn on us..." he spat.

"I doubt it, I reminded him of what happened to a certain loan shark. He won't betray us." The doctor nodded, though he still had doubts. He switched his focus on healing All For One, refilling his IVs every few hours.

"If you say, master."

"I wonder how Young Tomura is handling the burden of recruiting new members," All For One said, changing the topic. "I won't lie, he has been slowly learning why he shouldn't resort to force."

"I still have my... misgivings about him," the doctor said, briefly pausing.

"Dr. Garaki, you know why he's the perfect successor, right?" asked the supervillain rhetorically.

The doctor huffed a bit, grumbling. "Yes... he embodies the hatred of Hero Society but will that be enough? He's a man-child. If anything, he should play more real-time strategy games since he dedicates so much time to gaming." A bit of bite was added.

"Hmm... I will add that. RTS games would help him learn to play the long-term game when it comes to dismantling Hero Society. Command & Conquer would work wonderfully! Thank you for the suggestion, doctor."

"Should we ask your successor about his progress then?" asked Garaki. The old supervillain nodded. "I believe he mentioned something about finding a deranged judoka - used terms like tank."

"Judoka? Did he mention what Quirk?" asked All For One, curious.

"Something called Masochist..."

Cafeteria

Bloodgash and Dabi were sitting at a table in the center, eating slowly while their eyes shifted every now and then. The burned man's eyes wandered over to a small group three tables away from them, diagonally speaking. The group looked away, making Dabi smirk, but Bloodgash nudged him.

"This food's alright..." Dabi muttered, finishing the last bites.

"Any idea who those three are?" Bloodgash asked in a whisper.

"Nobodies," spat Dabi. "If they want to fuck with us, just ask Innsmouth what happened." The merc rolled his eyes at Dabi's response.

"That's gonna be your death one day, count on it," the merc remarked but turned his head up. "Now, we need to talk about something important..."

Dabi clicked his teeth. "Recruiting, right? Aside from surface-level info, we barely know shit. Except for Jean and the mercs you supposedly ran with." The burned m

"Should we get the clown?" asked Dabi, seeing a clown with dyed purple hair whose sleeves were torn.

Bloodgash shut him down immediately. "I hate clowns. Try again."

The burned man tsked and saw another potential recruit: a man with a slender build, oversized dress shirt, worn-out pants, and bob-cut golden hair that reach his ears.

"What about him?"

"Looks like the type that uses his brain more, I'll consider him," Bloodgash answered. He scanned the area another time before settling on a solitary man who was sitting by himself eating a plate of veggies and grilled beef. He was definitely broad-shouldered, with messy brown hair, and a sprinkling of facial hair above his lip. The man wore a dusty orange sweatshirt with short sleeves and a pair of tattered sweatpants.

"He looks like a meathead," Dabi remarked. "Then again, we can always use more raw muscle."

"Speak of the devil..." muttered the merc as a familiar face came by to sit.

"Bonjour, mes amis!" exclaimed Jean. "I can't help but listen to your-"

"No."

"Oh, come on. You have-"

"No," Bloodgash cut Jean off again. "I'm sure your ideas involve wholesale slaughter. Something I don't need as of now," the merc said with some bite. Jean backed up a bit, wondering if he had caught his old acquaintance in a bad mood.

"Wait!" interjected Dabi. "You know some of the prisoners, right?"

Jean nodded as if it was the most obvious thing.

"Who is that guy?" Dabi said, pointing out the convict with messy brown hair. Jean looked away and got a look at him and a grunt was his response.

"Hundred Hand. All that I know is that he was quite infamous in Philadelphia," Jean explained. "Extra-curious to test his skills from a Full-Contact Karate dojo on the streets. Things escalated..." he drawled.

"How bad?" Bloodgash asked, curious.

"First it started with some nobody thugs, then he upgraded to bikers, and then he escalated to killing crew members from the Irish Mob. All. With. His. Bare. Fucking. Hands." Jean stated with emphasis.

"When was the proverbial 'shit hitting the fan' moment?" Bloodgash asked, wondering how the hell did Hundred Hand avoid retribution for so long.

"Killing an undercover state trooper for the Philadelphia State Police. That was his 'oh shit' moment, though I think targeting the Irish Mob should have been more of a wake-up call."

Bloodgash absorbed the little backstory but he had questions still: was Hundred Hand stable enough to be recruited? Dabi, on the other hand… "I definitely want the guy. He sounds reliable."

"I can't believe I'm gonna ask this but what the hell's his Quirk?" Bloodgash asked, albeit in disbelief. Jean put a finger to his chin, trying to remember the name of the guy's Quirk, and as he was tapping to find out...

"Ah, I believe he called it... 4/4."

The two wondered if they heard it right, one muttering that's a unique name for a Quirk, and the other saying it's too damn vague. As the three were conversing, they heard an explosive noise and the sound of a table crumpling. Dabi stood up to get a better view and saw the carnage: A convict in mime makeup was sprawled over a bent table, his face bloodied, and his nose gone.

The mime mouthed the words, you bastard, to a fully standing Hundred Hand. He was quite tall, the broad shoulders adding menace to an already imposing convict, and one hand was covered in the mime's blood.

"You decided it was a good time to fuck with me?" Hundred Hand spoke, his voice deep as the indent made in the table. As he walked towards the mime, two other convicts popped up, armed with shanks. One had a sad harlequin mask on while the other had a joyful mask on.

"Die, you mother-"

CRACK!

The karateka cut him off with a solid right into his lower jaw and followed up with a front kick dead-center, sending the first one sprawl all over the floor. The joyful mask shook in fear, wanting to run…

"Go ahead, run. You'll live for another day," Hundred Hand said to the shaking convict. "Otherwise, you'll be the third clown I cripple today."

The joyful mask dropped the blade and immediately ran for it. The karateka returned to his seat seeing that his issue was resolved. The prisoners who witnessed it returned back to their tables to wait out the rest of lunch period.

Bloodgash had to admit, that was impressive. However, that moment would come to an end once seeing a few guards surround Hundred Hand. The leader of the guards looked burly compared to the other guards, maybe as tall as Hundred Hand when standing.

"Vous tous. Attrapez-lui."

With that command, a group of batons rained down on Hundred Hand, and that was the last anyone saw of him as every other convict was escorted back to their cell.

WHAM!

Hundred Hand was down on his knee.

WHAM! WHAM!

The karateka only made grunts as each baton hit his upper frame.

BAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Hundred Hand looked like he was biding his time until...

CRACK!

A guard's face was mangled by a quick uppercut but that increased the beating tenfold. The burly guard ordered the others to hold him down as he used him as a punching bag. Hundred Hand's grunts turned into screams as the first two punches landed.

It increased to five punches.

Seven punches.

"You... fucker... you're getting off on this-" he was cut off by an eighth punch, knocking him out. The burly guard spat on the downed convict, giving one more order.

"Remettez cette ordure dans sa cellule, il a fini sa journée."

Main Cells [After Lunch]

"The fuck was that?!" spat Dabi, sitting on the top bunk. Bloodgash was pacing back and forth, a bit surprised by this new element of the prison's corruption. On the other hand, he should have expected this.

"Brutal prison guards," said Bloodgash to himself. "This might help us…"

"How exactly?" Dabi questioned, crossing his arms.

"Think about it, Dabi. Plenty of prisoners pissed at the abuse and I'm sure it's not the first time that big guard ganged up on someone like that… and that can…" the merc said with some hand signs.

"A higher chance of a large-scale riot going off…" Dabi answered, liking where it was going.

"You're catching on. Good." Bloodgash stopped pacing.

"One problem: How many guys do you plan on recruiting?"

"No less than 10. However, I'm really hoping we leave Jean in the dust once the riot passes. The mercs I ran with are trustworthy at least. Especially since they fought with me in the Golden Triangle and Colombia."

"Any idea if they'll be more money-minded?" asked Dabi, a lilt to his voice indicating to Bloodgash what he really meant.

"The fuck? You think they're gonna backstab us the moment someone pays them double?!" barked Bloodgash. "I'll promise you this, the moment they do so, I'll cut their fucking hearts out." The edge in his voice wiped out any doubt.

"Well, that's reassuring…" remarked Dabi sardonically as he leaped down from his bunk. "Between you and me, what type of backgrounds do these mercs have?"

"AWOL soldiers, ex-cops, and the occasional street trash," Bloodgrash replied. The merc went to sit on the bottom bunk, trying to brainstorm a way to arrange meetings between various prisoners.

'The fighting ring is one way but the noise level will make it harder to communicate. Nor I can take the risk of talking to them at lunch or supper periods. The guards would start noticing, they might be corrupt but they're not stupid. '

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The two turned their heads to the source of the noise and there he was, CO Jourdain. The lanky guard seemed like he didn't sleep too well, evidenced by the bags under his eyes. The first words that came out of his mouth put the two on guard.

"I know who the both of you truly are…"

Bloodgash was ready to slice the guard apart-

"However, I'm not interested in ratting you out," Jourdain said, calming Bloodgash a bit. Dabi was still on guard.

"Oh, tell us then. What's in it for you?" Dabi aggressively asked. Jourdain raised his hand to appease him.

"I believe your boss and my debt collector are the same people." As soon as that was said, Dabi calmed down but was slightly confused. Bloodgash, on the other hand, understood immediately.

"I get it, you're in some heavy shit. My employer, who calls himself Sensei, dropped our names at some point to you. Am I right so far?" questioned the merc. Jourdain nodded, confirming the truth. "Let me guess, you help us out, and Sensei absolves you of your debt."

"Yes…" muttered Jourdain. "After that, I'm free from any obligations to him."

"So tell me, buddy, what are your plans after this?" Bloodgash asked, curious.

"Spain. I heard it's lovely this year," with some bite. "Does that clear any doubts you have about me?"

"Yes," The merc exhaled. However, he followed up with "I need some info. Hope you can provide."

"What info are you exactly looking for?"

"Are the guards known to be corrupt? How many prisoners are there in comparison to guards? Is there a central location that operates these Quirk Suppressor Collars?"

"Ah, you mean Dur Benet, or as I call him, the Iron Fool. COs only tolerate him because he keeps some unruly convicts in check. Otherwise, he would have been sacked by now, or even be a prisoner," Jourdain explained. "Corrupt? Yes but no. It's more of a complacency."

"That's one. What else?"

"The prisoners usually outnumber the guards 3 to 1. A central location? Yes, it's in one of the towers that emit a signal range that covers this entire island," explained Jourdain.

Bloodgash nodded, satisfied by the guard's answers, and turned away. Dabi, on the other hand, had lingering doubts about him. Bloodgash straight up told Dabi to stand down and said the following words: "Like it or not, we have another member helping us."

"But…"

"I'm not sure if you listened but Jourdain straight up said he's not interested in ratting us out. If you have doubts still, there's our employer who has him by the balls. If that's not enough, I'm not sure what is."

"Fine…" grumbled Dabi. "But if he-"

"I'll gut him the moment he starts getting cold feet. Better?" Bloodgash replied, cutting Dabi off. The burned man had to concede, the merc didn't make threats, he made guarantees. Jourdain shook at Bloodgash's declaration.

"I'll get you to the fight ring. You can make your elevator pitch there," the guard suggested.

"How soon?" Bloodgash asked.

"Tomorrow evening. I can't guarantee the both of you, but you'll have me as a backup in case things don't go according to plan," Jourdain replied.

"That is true. Is there anything else you can tell me about some of Erinyes' colorful convicts?"

Jourdain sighed but relented. "There are many but the few that stand out to me? I recommend avoiding them. Their records made me wonder if they should get the death sentence."

"Go on," motioned Bloodgash.

"Ryosuke Webb. Crimes: forcible doping of former athletes and pro heroes; claims it was giving them a second chance," explained Jourdain. "The real motive: Indulging in a morbid curiosity."

"Quirk?"

"Scanning Touch: The moment he makes contact with all five fingers, he gets an accurate picture of your physical health. It's the first step when concocting his various drugs."

"A sick experimenter? Got it. Who else?"

"Stefan Sonnenberg. Crimes: assassinations in the daytime. Hitting politicians and problematic Pro Heroes. Either with a weapon or his bare hands."

"Wait, I recognize him by his epithet and the fact I worked with him! Sonnemesser. I know his Quirk, Sun Cycle. Stefan's own physical stats increase depending on the time of day." Bloodgash explained.

"Sonnenburg, how's he like?" Dabi asked, curious.

"He's somewhat jokey but it's always deadpan. I know he's former German Navy, commando frogmen to be specific," the merc explained.

"There's one you want to avoid…"

"Who?"

"They call him Minaccia. Crimes: Multiple Murders of families in Paris. Motive: He believed in fine-tuning his art of murder, and calls his fighting style L'arte Dell'omicidio Colposo."

"The Art of Manslaughter? He sounds like an edgy teen that didn't grow up…" Bloodgash deadpanned, not taking the threat of Scourge seriously.

"Listen, Minaccia is a menace. You'll see first hand because he's fighting tomorrow evening…" replied Jourdain with some worry.

"Noted," Bloodgash replied dryly.

The Next Evening - The Fight Ring

WHAM!

A fist was sent flying into a Komodo Dragon-looking convict, breaking some teeth.

"E' tutto?" barked the other convict who had clown makeup on. The patterns on his face were red and black but in halves running down the center. The clown walked up to the downed convict and yelled out.

"Non mi dica che è bastato un colpo per abbatterti!"

The lizardman's trying to get up despite his mouth bleeding, "I'll fucking gut you."

"Bene, sarebbe una delusione se venissi messo al tappeto," responded the clown who took his kickboxing stance. The Komodo man growled as he ran towards him, hands at the ready with the intent to maul him.

SWIPE!

The clown swayed out of the first claw via backstep. The lizardman twisted around and followed up with a lunge, mouth open.

MUNCH!

The clown grunted in pain as the bastard bit right into his shoulder. He grabbed the lizard in a sort of clinch and slammed his knee into his opponent's gut not once but three times. The lizardman's jaw did not loosen up in any manner.

WHAM!

A knee into the lizardman's gut.

BAM!

The clown used his free hand to punch the lizardman's side, specifically the area near his eye. He felt the grip loosen a bit.

WHAM!

The clown aimed for the eye but with an elbow. The lizardman grunted in pain, releasing his bite, and keeping his distance. The clown looked at his wound: fairly deep bite marks. They stung a bit with a slight touch.

"Sporca lucertola del cazzo," the clown spat. The lizardman only grinned in response. The two took their stances again. The latter did not engage while the clown's wound was still bleeding. In a split second, the clown started out with a front kick or so he thought…

WHIFF!

The left leg didn't connect, in fact, it was a feint. The clown shifted his left to a low angle and delivered a low kick! The lizardman flinched as it made contact… but the clown wasn't done yet.

BAM! BAM!

Two low kicks into the angle.

WHAM! WHAM!

A cross and hook into the lizard's mouth. He didn't stop there, he tackled him to the ground and slammed his fist into the mouth of the lizardman but his intent was not to only injure. He pried open the mouth with both hands.

CRACK!

With one movement, he dislocated the lizardman's jaw, but he wasn't done quite yet. The clown looked at the crowd, spitting out "Vi divertite?" The entire crowd roared in response but a small chant grew to decide the lizardman's fate.

"Mort! Mort! Mort!"

"Ancora!" yelled the clown in anticipation.

"Mort! Mort! Mort!"

The crowd made their position clear, the clown turned his gaze towards the lizardman crawling away from him; the former calmly walked toward his prey, ready to deliver the killing blow. As he cracked his knuckles…

STOMP!

The lizardman yelped in pain as a foot was planted into his back. The clown kept stomping, savoring the enemy's anguish, and a side bonus: fine-tuning his skills. He turned the lizardman over and gazed into his eyes like he was prey.

"È il momento del finale, non siete d'accordo?" the clown asked, mockingly. The lizardman just spat at him, knowing his end will come. The least he can do was not give him the satisfaction. The clown lifted his leg up, almost like a guillotine…

Angelo Caduto!

The heel slammed right into the lizardman's snout, breaking it in two, but to his surprise… the lizardman still lived. However, the clown gave his opponent the chance to stand up, smirking as he did.

"You should have killed me, bastard! The lizardman screamed as he threw a cross but it didn't connect… he tried again and nothing.

"Why can't I-"

KRICK!

The clown cut him off with a calf kick, then aimed for the inside of the same leg, hearing a cracking noise again. The lizardman faltered, focusing on his leg briefly, and letting down his guard…

WHAM!

The lizardman gagged as he felt the impact in his liver, courtesy of a body shot. The clown then delivered the final blow…

Sette Morti - Angoscia

Jabs and crosses into the lizardman's face, each one deforming the beast a bit more, and there was the coup de grace: a spinning back kick.

SPLORCH!

The crowd roared loudly as the lizardman's lower jaw was lopped off like it was meat. The clown bowed to the crowd as if he finished the last act of a play, all with a smile on his face.

"Grazie, grazie. Siete stati un pubblico eccellente stasera, ma vi devo salutare," the clown replied to the crowd's applause. As he left, the cleaners had the task of clearing out the now-dismembered lizardman. One complained that he didn't get paid enough for this.

...~-~...

"That was Minaccia himself?" Bloodgash asked himself. Jourdain nodded in confirmation. The merc had to admit, he was skilled enough to kill the lizardman.

"You want to consider him?"

"File that under maybe," the merc replied. "Who else is next?"

"The next match is some ex-security guard called Sidero and he's fighting against Sonnenberg. There are a few other matches too."

"Let's focus on this one…"

...~-~...

Sonnenberg vs. Sidero

Two convicts made their way to the ring, both eyeing each other, and they went to their corners. In the left corner, the one known as Sidero was very tall, with bulbous elbows, and his most striking feature was a large golden mask with small horns on top.

In the right corner was someone slightly smaller, but looked no less dangerous. He had a blonde mohawk, a short beard, and blue eyes. He took a kickboxer's stance while Sidero took an open stance.

BRING!

As soon as the bell rang, Sidero closed the distance between them, intending to grapple. Sonnenberg timed his attack as soon as he was close in range…

WHAM!

Sidero's head was sent up by an uppercut. However, he didn't seem that phased by it. The mohawked man had an expression of brief shock but recomposed himself by backing away a bit. The masked brawler lunged toward him but switched up by striking the other, dead-center, and then grabbed his head in a clinch and struck him in the stomach over and over with his knees. Sonnenberg bared it...

'Need to time it...' thought the mohawked man, he bided his time, and now!

STOMP!

Sidero yelped in pain, but his grip loosened a bit, enough for Sonnenberg to launch an uppercut to his chin, and send out two body blows into the masked brawler. Sidero's grip let go and he left himself open, the mohawked man dodged that swing and aimed right for the liver...

WHAM!

Sidero gasped in pain but he didn't go down. Yet. He grunted, switching to heavy kicks instead. Sonnenberg put his guard up for the oncoming impact... but nothing came. In fact, it should have-

CRUNCH!

"Verdammter Mistkerl!" Sonnenberg yelled as the inside of his left leg felt the impact of a low kick. His leg wobbled a bit, falling to a knee, and meeting a flying knee strike in his face. As he was down on the ground, Sidero mounted on top of him, laying blow upon blow onto the man's upper frame. Sonnenberg felt the pain shoot up in his arms but made a risky move: letting his guard down.

"Big Mistake!" Sidero shouted, winding up for another blow.

THUMP!

Sonnenberg sent an elbow into his jaw, then another with the opposite elbow, and alternated with another one, knocking him off. The masked brawler was reeling from that blow, muttering he should have choked him out. Sonnenberg took advantage of that by unleashing a potent right hook - into his skull - behind the ear.

Sidero coughed up in pain, now taking notice of the ringing in his ear. However, he was not out. He recovered, now intending to turn this into a slugfest. Sonnenberg however aimed to end this by focusing on that spot behind the ear. Two hits made him grunt loudly. Sonnenberg did not let up and threw in an elbow strike to the other side of his face.

WHIP!

Sidero missed.

THWIP!

Sidero missed again. The disorientation, coupled with his injuries, made it very difficult to get a proper aim on the smaller Sonnenberg. He kept weaving and dodging the larger man's strikes. Sonnenberg saw his right foot stick out, noticing that the masked man is correcting his stance, or at least attempting to. He took the opportunity to forcefully sweep the front leg out, making Sidero lose his balance.

"You-"

THWACK!

Sonnenberg cut him off with a roundhouse kick to his other ear. As intended, the other ear was bleeding. Sidero tried in vain to defend himself but didn't put his guard up fast enough to prevent that cross punch from coming through. In a few seconds, Sonnenberg clutched one of the masked man's arms in a lock and the crowd prepped for it.

SNAPP!

Sidero screamed in pain immediately as his arm was bent the other way. The masked brawler was shut up by Sonnenberg's front kick to his face, breaking his teeth, and splaying him to the floor. Sonnenberg delivered the final blow: stomps to the face.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Sidero's face was getting caved in. Any noises were muffled.

STOMPPPP!

One final stomp broke Sidero's mask and KO'd him. Sonnenberg didn't bother hearing the results as he walked out of the ring but then heard a voice call out a name he hasn't heard of in a long while.

"Sonnermesser!"

...~-~...

"I'm surprised you're here," remarked Sonnenberg. "I know you didn't come for the five-star service," dryly marked the German merc.

"I have a proposition for you, Sonnenberg," Bloodgash said. "What if I told you that I can get you out of this hellhole?"

"That'd take a miracle unless you added miracle worker to your resume."

"I'm being serious. Plus I do want to recruit a few other people, the ones we ran with, and maybe some of these guys," Bloodgash responded, wondering if Sonnenberg will bite.

"Hypothetically speaking, we do break out," Sonnenberg paused. "There has to be someone backing you up, right? Why else would that guard accompany you?" he said, pointing out Jourdain.

Bloodgash nodded and continued, "You see, my employer has some major pull. He's trying to make his little outfit stronger, I'm sure you heard of the shit that went down at UA High, right?"

Sonnenberg nodded, putting two and two together. "He was behind that. The whole thing?"

"Yup," he responded with the p popped. "He's even paying me to train his 'successor', I used that term loosely."

"Question, how exactly are you going to break out of Erinyes?" asked Sonnenberg.

"That's where the guard comes in... he knows where the source center, well, the signal's source for all those Quirk Suppressor Collars. Two, a prison riot. I don't need to explain how that works."

"You plan to escape in the chaos, am I right?" he asked, needing confirmation. Bloodgash did not correct him, confirming it. However, the German merc needed more reassurance. He's not going to risk his neck on an unknown employer, even if the guy backing up was an old co-worker of his.

"Let me put it this way, my employer will give us the payday of a lifetime. All I ask: are you in or not?"

"Tell me exactly, what group did you become part of?"

"My employer calls it the League of Villains. You ask me, the title is ok. He entrusted me to recruit international help while his successor is handling the domestic side," answered Bloodgash. "What do you say?"

"... if you ask me, I will take you up on your offer. Just to get out of this hellhole. I assume the League is located in Japan?"

"Right you are," answered Bloodgash.

"What's the guard's role in this?" Sonnenberg asked, pointing out Jourdain. Instead of Bloodgash answering, the guard stepped up to answer.

"I'm in debt and his employer will clear everything once I do my part. After that, we go our separate ways and never meet each other again."

Sonnenberg took in the guard's words, grunting in acceptance, and before walking off... "Oh, I'll get some of the old crew together."

"Try not to invite Jean," Bloodgash said with some exasperation. "He's the one guy I don't need."

"I can't guarantee it..." Sonnenberg replied, walking away. Bloodgash could only sigh, hoping Jean doesn't come to the meeting. Jourdain, on the other hand, nudges the merc to pay attention to the other matches. Bloodgash turned his head towards the ring and recognized one of them.

"That's Hundred Hand and who's the other guy? College-age kid with glasses, that guy," the merc pointed out. Jourdain took a good look at him: curly hair, in his early 20s, and a nervous disposition.

"School stabber, nothing notable. He's not gonna last long. Trust me."

"Well, you never know..."

...~-~...

WHACK!

Hundred Hand sends a knee to the stabber's face, knocking a few teeth loose. The stabber stumbled backward, but Hundred Hand let him get up, only to knock him down once again. The stabber got desperate, swinging fists at Hundred Hand who backed up to keep some distance. The stabber was confused at-

Black Iron Break!

Hundred Hand closed the distance by launching a straight punch into the stabber's ribcage...

"Well then..." said Bloodgash in reaction to Hundred Hand's one-handed attack on the stabber. "Looks like we might have another recruit for the League..."

Author's Notes:

Where was I? Oh, right. I'm more active on Discord and A03 than FFN as of now. Was also surprised to see the author stoneblade54 bookmark my fic, but let's get back on track. Yep, I'm more active on Discord and well, dealt with some problems as of last year [bank related ones].

Black Iron Break - a straight punch that's backed up by Hundred Hand's tempered strength, aiming for ribcages.

Angelo Caduto - A lethal axe kick, delivered with the heel. English: Fallen Angel.

Sette Morti - Angoscia - A series of jabs and cross punches into the opponent's upper frame. The final attack was the spinning back kick. English: Seven Deaths - Anguish

Vous appellez vraiment à une heure tardive, alors dites-moi qui- = "You're really calling at a late hour, so tell me who-"

Vous tous. Attrapez-lui. = All of you. Grab him.

"Remettez cette ordure dans sa cellule, il a fini sa journée." = "Put this scumbag back in his cell, he's done for the day."

E' tutto = That's all

Bene, sarebbe una delusione se venissi messo al tappeto = Well, it would be a disappointment if you were knocked out.