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. Support the official release! Mainly for emphasis!
Chapter Sixty-Four: Jailhouse Brawl
Jourdain was nursing his jaw as Beaufoy ranted at him, ranging from how he betrayed his country to how he single-handedly destroyed the one thing keeping France and the rest of the civilized world safe from these walking atrocities. The gears in the guard's brain started turning: formulating a plan and also staying put to ride out the riot. He just needed to keep Beaufoy talking for a whole two minutes.
'That window looks fragile enough. Ow. Beaufoy hit harder than I thought,' Jourdain mused, slowly getting up, putting Beaufoy on guard again.
"On dirait que je te dois une ou deux explications. Je peux m'expliquer ou tu vas continuer à me fixer du regard?" Jourdain started off by showing that he was not a threat by putting his hands in the air. Beaufoy did not buy the act one bit.
"Si vous n'êtes toujours pas convaincu, j'enlèverai lentement tout ce qui peut être considéré comme une arme," Jourdain continued trying to convince Beaufoy. He threw out a car key, his baton, and his walkie-talkie, disarming himself.
'If this won't work, I'm not sure what can.'
Beaufoy's intense look softened a bit and he motioned for him to continue. However, he did not take his eyes off Jourdain, and more importantly, he still did not trust him.
"Nous avons tout notre temps, bon sang. Alors expliquez-moi pourquoi vous avez libéré tous les condamnés," Beaufoy spat. Jourdain could tell, his gamble worked.
"Oh, that's simple," Jourdain replied, switching to Japanese. "I was in quite a bit of debt. Lo and behold, someone stepped in to keep all the loan sharks away."
Beaufoy was confused at the language change but didn't raise his guard up. He let Jourdain continue uninterrupted.
"Life became bearable - I was almost in the clear, two more months. Two more months and my debt would be clear," Jourdain ranted, panting for the big reveal. "A few days ago I got a call from my debt collector, asking me for a favor. Can you guess what that was?"
"Parle, enfoiré!" barked Beaufoy, but Jourdain humored that with his response.
"Il m'a demandé d'aider deux condamnés récemment arrivés," Jourdain started off, reverting back to French. "J'ai voulu résister, vraiment... mais il m'a proposé deux choses: le règlement de ma dette restante et un lieu de vacances de mon choix. C'est drôle comme ça marche." He finished with a small grin, glad he let it out.
Beaufoy understood Jourdain's reason, it disgusted him so much that he clenched his fists and glared at him. A villain who had Jourdain by the balls.
"Vous... vous... tout ça pour une dette?!" Beaufoy raised his voice at the older guard, stepping forward. "Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas dit non!" the young guard near-screamed the big question at Jourdain.
'He's angry, but his guard is dropping. That can help.' Jourdain thought.
"Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas rejeté son offre ? Si vous aviez tant de problèmes financiers..." Beaufoy slowed down, less angry and more pleading, to Jourdain's confusion. Beaufoy took a deep breath, recomposing himself.
"Celui à qui vous devez de l'argent ? C'est un méchant infâme, n'est-ce pas?" He asked, hands-folded.
'That was not what I expected... hmmm…' Jourdain thought, still surprised by this turn. ' This plan of mine can still work out. I just cannot reveal all the details of my relationship with All For One. ' He reasoned, still letting the younger guard speak.
"Pire, il est le Croquemitaine. Pour être plus précis, le Croquemitaine du Japon." Jourdain responded, confirming Beaufoy's suspicion. The look on the young guard slowly changed to one of horror. Then came the panicked ranting.
'And here's my chance…' mused Jourdain as Beaufoy's guard was lowered. The older guard lowered his stance and burst forth!
"La put–" Beaufoy was cut off as he was tackled by a rushing Jourdain. Instead of knocking him down to the ground, Jourdain dragged him to a fragile window and made an attempt to defenestrate him.
WHAM!
"Enfoiré!" exclaimed Jourdain as he got struck in the liver by Beaufoy. The younger guard was pushing him away but Jourdain wasn't going down.
WHAM!
Beaufoy gasped in pain as he was kneed in the groin. Jourdain took the opportunity to swipe at him with an elbow strike to the cheek. Beaufoy was struggling against the older guard who slammed his head against the window. Over and over.
KRIK-CRACK!
The window finally cracked and, due to the momentum, Beaufoy was thrown through the opening. The last words Jourdain heard…
"Espèce de bâtard de merde!"
Jourdain knew he had more say, but the resounding crack put a permanent end to that. The older guard took a few steps to see the gruesome scene below: The young guard's neck bent at an odd angle, one of his legs snapped like a wishbone, and blood pooled under his body.
"Well, that's it then," Jourdain spoke, lighting up a cigarette. "Erinyes will fall into disgrace but the silver lining? I'll be far away from here…"
He took one last puff before dropping his ass on the floor.
"My part is done… It's your turn."
The sound of the cell doors opening confused all the prisoners, but for some it was freedom. For others, it was a chance to settle old scores. One convict, looking like a musical conductor, thought it was...
WHAM!
The fist of a nearby prisoner crushed the conductor's head; the red-bearded prisoner was shocked to see his Quirk return. He uttered four words.
"Every man for himself." All with an English accent.
Some prisoners asked him to repeat it.
"Every. Man. For. Himself." He shouted up.
No more needed to be said. Fists began to fly, as did quirks. Within a minute, it was a bloodbath. The guards tried to impose order by force, but their zeal soon turned against them. A group of lizard-like prisoners hacked a guard, who had a flame-breathing Quirk, to death. A group of prisoners wearing clown makeup dragged another away.
"Vous êtes tous morts!" shouted the guard as he was dragged away. For good measure, one of the clowns punched him in the face. Other inmates did not interfere as the small clown party was hauled into an adjacent cell.
The cell occupant exclaimed, "Perfetto." The guard got a good look at the inmate and tried to crawl out. The inmate was wearing red and black face paint, all painted in a semi-circular pattern.
"Minaccia!" the guard shouted. The fighting clown shrugged. The clown pulled out a sharpened blade and marveled at its cutting edge as he walked to the back of the cell. With some gestures, the prisoners held the guard down, arms outstretched, head up.
"L'opportunità di una fottuta vita." Minaccia said as he prepared the blade, not unlike an executioner. The restrained guard swung at the clown, cursing him and saying every prisoner would die before the day was out. Ignoring the guard's ranting, the clown swung the blade at the guard's neck.
SHINK!
The guard choked at the sight of the blade in his neck. Blood poured like a water jug. The clown swung the blade again. And Again. and again. By the fourth swing, his head was completely severed from his neck, and his look of agony was the last expression he had.
"Throw it with the others," Minaccia ordered.
"Oi, what the hell?" shouted one gangster with cross-like tattoos on his face. He was surrounded by a few corpses, all members of his crew. He wadded through a lot of corpses, all pointing to a single cell. He muttered that he should have brought a couple more of his men with him. It was not a minute before he reached the cell's entrance.
"What the… fuck…" the gangster muttered in shock.
He saw a bald man in a sitting position, deep in meditation. It's what surrounded him that shocked him: tons of corpses of varying prison gangs. Necks were broken, Heads caved in, and sometimes bodies were broken like dolls. Every instinct in the gangster's body was screaming at him to run and hide. Unfortunately… A slight noise was made when he tripped over a corpse, getting the bald man's attention.
"Ah, another in need of salvation…" the bald man solemnly said, getting up, revealing his tall height. The gangster was trying to scramble away… but the balding man picked up his pace.
"Wait - you're that fucking monk!" yelped the gangster, now recognizing him. "Genji, no, Genju?!"
The monk slammed his fist into the gangster's face, cutting him off. The gangster yelped in pain and he could have run for it but he didn't: he instead pulled out a poorly made shank and thrust forward, aiming for the monk's chest.
SPLURT!
"W-w-wait, I made it?!" the gangster said in surprise, seeing the shank puncturing the monk's chest but he looked at the monk's expression. Unchanged. Before doing anything else, the monk grabbed him by the throat, squeezing it like a vice. The gangster tried getting his shank back but his free wrist was caught by Genju's free hand, wrenching it away from the shank stuck in his chest.
"A wound like this?" Genju responded, slowly crushing the gangster's wrist. "This is nothing."
"Get - off - me - you mother-" yelped the gangster between gritted teeth. However, he screamed once a crunching sound was made. Once letting go, the monk used his now free hand, forming a fist, and aiming directly at the gangster's head.
"You piece of–" were his last words before he was cut off by a fist to his mouth. The gangster's teeth fell out as the monk retracted his fist. Genju grunted in response as he let loose a volley of punches into the gangster's face. With each hit, the gangster became less and less recognizable as a human.
KER-CRACK!
The gangster's neck was broken by a final strike to the face… or at least the remnants of a face. Genju dropped the dead man like a sack of potatoes, going about his way, and recited a small prayer to himself.
"All will reach salvation. All by my hand…"
"Shit! Shit!" exclaimed Dabi, running behind Bloodgash and avoiding any prolonged fight. In Dabi's mind, that was easier said than done. In Bloodgash's mind, he needed to find the radio tower, so the recruits could come second. The two only sprinted if any group of convicts were in proximity.
"Let's cut through there!" Dabi shouted, pointing to his left. As soon as they turned the corner, they were face to face with a group of convicts, six to be exact, and their looks screamed outlaw biker crew: the leather jackets, black boots, and patches.
"I believe you're in the wrong territory. This belongs to the Angels of Hellfire MC, Par–"
"I don't give a fuck and, more importantly, I'm in a hurry." Bloodgash interjected.
"Gut them like the pigs they are!" exclaimed the AOH's leader. Five of them got their Quirks ready, and the leader himself showed off his Quirk with a finger flick: energy-construct disks.
Quirk: Disk Conjuration - the user can generate constructs in the form of thin disks.
"Name's Andre - that's the one thing I'll grace you with."
Bloodgash and Dabi said nothing, taking their stances. Five charged at the two, ready to take their heads off. The merc grunted, muttering to himself that he likely had to use his Quirk, confusing Dabi a bit. Bloodgash's eyes dilate a bit.
"I hate this part…"
Name: Bloodgash
Quirk: Dilation - Everything is perceived as slow to this vicious mercenary, increasing his chances to counter-attack and react faster than usual.
Within five seconds, everything was in slow motion...even the two bikers trying to flank him. One, a brown-haired bearded man with piercings, turned his hands into torches. The second, a twenty-something with indigo hair, turned bestial, resembling a smaller Sasquatch.
'Indigo wants to end me in one blow. Torch is all brute force. Amateur brawlers, then. I can work with this.'
The Indigo Sasquatch raised his hands, while Torch–
KRACK!
"Gah!" the Sasquatch yelped, grabbing his knee. Torch caught off guard, stopped his charge momentarily. Bloodgash muttered "idiot" and landed a one-two combo on his nose. Screaming in pain, he swung his literal hammer fist while holding his bleeding nose.
WHAM!
"You fucker... you..." were the last words before Bloodgash unleashes a barrage on Torch. Kicks, jabs, crosses, and uppercuts.
Not forgetting Indigo, who thought he could ambush the merc while occupied...
"Really...?" the merc asked before delivering a spinning roundhouse kick to his chest, breaking two ribs in the process. Desperate, Indigo threw a straight punch.
"How telegraphed..." Bloodgash muttered, swaying to the side and catching the man-ape with an uppercut to the jaw. The merc refocused on Torch after kicking Indigo away. The brown-haired punk swung his torch fists wildly, but Bloodgash's Quirk effects made them easy to predict, and best of all, it was an excellent way to throw off some rust.
Bloodgash took two steps back, giving himself a little space. As Torch closed the distance, the merc swung his leg at a low angle, the goal not to maim but to knock the punk off balance.
WHIFF!
Torch lost his footing. The opportunity offered itself like a gift. Bloodgash lunged forward and landed a palm strike. Straight into cartilage. Followed by a blow to the eye, and another, and another...
Centipede's Dance!
Between punches, Torch tried to strike, but Bloodgash shut that attempt down by slipping past and hitting him with an elbow uppercut and following up with a horizontal elbow across his forehead, leaving a nasty gash.
"Ahhh… what did you do…" replied Torch as he wiped off blood seeping into his eye. Bloodgash responded with silence as he prepared his hand like a spear.
"You won't get the chance!" Torch yelled, closing the distance between him and the merc. Bloodgash half-stepped back to launch a quick uppercut into his chin, shattering some teeth and cutting his tongue partly.
"Are you even trying?" Bloodgash mocked but with some displeasure. "For a simple thug, you're-oh!" He immediately saw the stream of fire from Torch's hands.
Torch's Breath!
It was a straight stream of fire from the biker's hands, but the merc noticed two details: Torch still had a good eye, and the stream of fire had a set length of one meter.
As the stream of fire gradually shortened, Bloodgash flanked him and pummeled him with uppercuts and elbows to the face.
SLICE!
Torch yelped in pain as he felt a cut above his eyebrow, blood seeping out, covering his other eye. Bloodgash prepared his hand once again and in five seconds: Small steps forward and fired his fist into the side.
Executioner's Lance!
Torch howled in pain as the fist made an impact. Bloodgash took advantage by grabbing one of his arms and snapping it via a joint lock.
"Great. Two on one." Dabi mused sardonically. He faced two opponents: One had aquamarine hair and was of average height, and the other had light red hair and an almost always condescending expression. Both of them had Angels of Hellfire jackets on. Dabi had a hunch that these two could actually fight.
"I guess there's no other way to convince you, huh?" Dabi said, breaking the silence again.
"Our boss's orders are to gut you, and that's what we'll do." The thug with the aquamarine hair answered back. The one with the light red hair got into a wrestling position.
"Oh, well. I did try," Dabi said in reply. Armed with a knife, the aquamarine punk lunged forward. The scorched villain moved out of the line of fire, but not before...
WHIFF!
Dabi stepped back even further, dodging more of the punk's swings with the knife. Slipping past one, he landed a low kick, then grabbed his head and used the ground as a springboard...
Crunch!
A satisfying crunching sound was music to Dabi's ears. The aquamarine punk's nose was broken. The light red punk stood in shock.
"Shit, Aqua!" the red punk shouted. Dabi stepped forward, delivering a one-two combo into Aqua's face and an uppercut, slicing through a part of his nostril. The aquamarine thug was holding his partly torn nose, mumbling that he would disembowel him.
"Sure, pal. Try it." Dabi replied, egging him on. Aqua swung his knife at the burnt villain, who intercepted him with a rear hook punch to the cheek. The red punk got out of his shock and assisted Aqua with tag-teaming Dabi.
"Match him, Chaleur!" exclaimed Aqua.
Chaleur lowered his stance and broke into a sprint, attempting to knock him off balance, but Dabi was not stupid. He side-stepped, dodging his takedown attempt, and another one. Aqua sliced at him, cutting him in the shoulder, leaving a small cut. Dabi needed to take care of this thug here and now. The knife would be an issue…
WHIFF!
Dabi weaved away from the knife slash and dashed forward with a cross punch into Aqua's face and delivered another punch and another. However, Chaleur tackled him to the ground, slamming his head to the concrete.
"Mother-" Dabi was cut off by Chaleur smashing his fists into his upper body, followed by Aqua kicking the burnt villain too.
"Like that - mother - fucker!" Aqua replied between kicks. Dabi in vain, tried protecting himself by covering himself up.
WHAM! WHAM!
BAM!
WHAM! BAM!
WHAM!
' Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. '
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
'On the count of three, aim for the nearest one. '
Aqua and Chaleur kept hitting him, ignorant of what Dabi would do, the latter ordering Aqua to stab him now, but before he followed through. Dabi threw an elbow, slashing at Chaleur's face, making him yelp. Dabi grabbed Aqua's lead leg and used his momentum to drop him down onto the floor. The burnt villain rose up and kicked him in the head, then turned around to see a pissed but bleeding Chaleur.
"Your move," replied Dabi sardonically.
Chaleur's form was hissing, making Dabi take note.
"Your Quirk has something to do with controlling steam, am I right?" Dabi theorized.
Chaleur responded by emitting steam and getting on all fours. To Dabi's eyes, it looked like a crouching stance.
"Ow…" muttered a wounded Aqua, but Chaleur motioned for him to stay down.
'He's gonna charge right at me, his steam providing a boost and likely plans on blasting me with a burst of it. '
Hissss!
Chaleur had steam emitting from his back like a jet ready for takeoff. In five seconds, an explosive burst of steam came forth, propelling him towards Dabi. The burnt villain backstepped to avoid the biker punk's grab, but he heard another hissing sound, coming from Chaleur's feet.
' So he can emit steam from his feet too… that's gonna be– ' as Dabi was cut off by flying a knee, courtesy of Chaleur's timing and creative usage of his Quirk. Chaleur kept at it, unloading a series of punches into Dabi who just put up his guard.
"You really thought – you were – gonna beat – us!" Chaleur replied between punches, not giving Dabi a chance to recover. He was gradually being forced back by the steam-powered biker, almost falling to a knee.
"You're done for!" Chaleur exclaimed, launching a final uppercut. With this blow, he will KO the burnt fucker–
WHIFF!
He missed. He missed the finishing blow. Dabi smirked, capitalizing on the biker's fuck-up with a low kick and an elbow slash to Chaleur's forehead, drawing more blood. The steam-using biker threw a wild punch which Dabi blocked with his left forearm and the followup: right palm uppercut to his jaw, cutting his tongue. Stunned, Chaleur spat out some blood and engaged Dabi again. The steam user threw a one-two combo but Dabi parried that with ease and followed up with a hook punch to the liver.
GACK!
Chaleur gagged, falling to a knee, and worst of all, let his guard down. Dabi slammed his knee directly into Chaleur's nose. The steam user yelped in pain, also cursing out Dabi, but the burnt villain ignored it in favor of pummeling the steam user more.
"Fuck–" spat Chaleur as knees were driven into his face. The steam-user placed his hands on the flame user's front leg and blasted a bit of steam into it.
"Ahh!" Dabi yelped, letting go. Chaleur rose up, charging him, and screaming that he'll be dead in the next minute. Dabi sidestepped to avoid any tackle, even tripping him.
"Hold fucking still!" Chaleur growled, attempting to tackle him once more.
"I'm wasting too much time," Dabi replied to himself. His left hand lit up with blue flames, brighter than usual. Chaleur just noticed the flame and immediately tried stopping…
Dabi smirked as he leaped forward, flame in hand, and landed in front of the retreating steam user. The flames in Dabi's hand increased in size and the burnt villain thrust his left towards Chaleur, unleashing a burst of blue flame!
Hellblast!
Flames engulfed Chaleur as he screamed in agony! As quickly as the flames came, they were gone. Dabi got a good look at his work: heavily burned skin with the consistency of bacon left too long on the stove.
"Guess I overdid it." Dabi shrugged. Before moving on…
WHAM!
The side of Chaleur's head became a red mist as Dabi executed the real final blow: a spinning roundhouse kick. The dead Chaleur fell backward, blood pooling around his corpse…
"The janitor is gonna have an extra tough time cleaning that up," Dabi said to himself, attempting a joke. On the other hand, he wasted enough time as it is. As he walked off, he immediately remembered one thing…
"Oh, right. You…" as Dabi turned around to see Aqua, attempting to crawl away. Dabi casually walked towards the crawling thug and kicked him over to his front. Kneeling down, Aqua growled his last words to Dabi.
"Get it over with."
He responded by shoving his thumbs into Aqua's eye sockets. The aquamarine thug tried his best not to scream– that was before feeling increasing heat. He was writhing in agony, trying to hit Dabi in vain.
"Never thought I'd use that cheesy phrase but… Flame On," as Dabi shoved his thumbs deeper and increased his Quirk's intensity.
Never had someone screamed that loud in such a short time.
The man-ape's attempts to throttle Bloodgash were in vain. Each attempt was either parried or the merc slipped out of his reach by a few inches. The man-ape growled as Bloodgash appeared bored, not taking him too seriously.
"Hold fucking still! You - little - fuck!" The man-ape exclaimed in frustration as he switched from throttling him to punching his lights out. However, each swing landed in a miss.
"Typical Quirk user," muttered Bloodgash. The man-ape wondered what he meant until he was cut off by two kicks to his knee. The man-ape gripped his knee in pain until Bloodgash landed a teep, dead-center, sending the goon to fly into the wall.
"That was easy…" Bloodgash muttered. His eyes contracted as his Quirk deactivated. The merc shook his head, wanting to shake off the aftereffects.
"Tachypsychia… I always hated this part. Usually, it takes a minute or two to cool down." Bloodgash stated but refocused on the task at hand: the leader of the biker gang whose expression shifted from shock to slowly generating anger.
"How the fuck! How the fuck!" His volume rose but he was stepping back as Bloodgash slowly walked towards him.
"Angels of Hellfire? Might want to update your name, Andre." Bloodgash replied to the panicking Andre.
"Fuck! Off!" The leader shouted as he conjured disk-shaped constructs. "STAY the fuck back!"
Bloodgash ignored it. He was expecting another fight, but this–
"Fuck this! I'm out!" Andre screamed, making his disk constructs vanish as he ran for the hills. Bloodgash was relieved but also disappointed at the same time…
Chaos was spreading throughout the cells, a lone crew of prison guards were attempting to keep some form of order, but it was a fruitless effort.
"Retournez dans vos cellules!" One guard yelled. However, that had the opposite effect: all the prisoners kept fighting harder. One caved in their skull with enlarged legs. Another tore out another's throat with their dagger-like teeth.
One guard took a risk trying to break up a mob beating on a prisoner with a rat Quirk.
"Hey, hey, break it up!" the guard yelled in clear English. The mob heard it but ignored it in favor of beating the rat prisoner more. The other guards pulled him away, claiming it was an obvious trap. The small crew moved to the next few cells, trying to re-establish order. A couple of convicts, armed with Quirks that gave them stone-like skin, were bashing against the crew's shields.
"Mind if I cut in?" said a familiar Frenchman. One of the guards turned around and attempted to blast him with his pistol.
Blam! Blam!
"Did I get him?" hoped the English-speaking guard. To his horror, he didn't. The Frenchman, now revealed to be Jean, smug smirk evident on his face.
"To your credit, you almost did."
Jean took advantage and kicked in the guard's calf, then broke his jaw with a quick uppercut. Two more guards were shocked to see their friend, bloody and beaten.
"Screw maintaining order! C'est lui ou nous!" Yelled one of the guards, blue-haired ponytail and all. The guard to his left who had the appearance of an Ocelot wasn't feeling too brave. In fact, he wanted to run away from this chaos.
"Auclair, w-we have to retreat!" The ocelot guard near-shouted. Auclair ignored it as he unleashed his Quirk: Azure Lightning. Sparks of lightning crackled around his hands as Auclair took a kickboxer's stance.
"Any last words, Jean." Auclair growled.
Jean was looking somewhat bored, not taking the blue-haired guard seriously. Auclair was incensed by Jean's casual attitude about this.
"Are you even taking this–" his words were cut off by Jean clocking his side with a mid-roundhouse kick. Auclair gasped in pain as the foot made contact.
"Oh, I'm not," answered Jean, retracting his foot and unloading a devastating combo on the hurt guard: jab - cross - left hook - clinch - knee.
Auclair's head flew back with blood flying from his nose but the Frenchman didn't let up.
"I have you now, scum!"
Auclair dipped low, grabbing Jean's legs for a takedown. The Frenchman did not seem concerned, his attitude making Auclair second-guess himself. In that second of hesitation, Jean slammed his elbow into the nape of the guard's neck.
WHAM!
Auclair's grip loosened with the impact. Reeling, Auclair aimed his hands at Jean, unleashing a small burst of lightning towards him.
"Merde!" Jean yelped, getting out of the line of fire. Auclair readjusted and fired once more. Jean jumped out of the way and needed to figure out a strategy to kill the blue electric guard.
"You can't run this time, Jean. I knew you had to die one way or another." Auclair ranted.
Jean didn't bother responding while the Ocelot guard was cowering in the corner. Auclair was ready to unleash one more–
Splurt!
Auclair was gasping as blood poured from the gash in his neck. Jean was right behind him, still with a bored expression on his face, and turning around…
"Was that it?" Jean spoke, disappointed. Auclair, in vain, tried grabbing him but Jean smirked a bit. His hands glowing like a knife…
Nanto Kyuketsu Ken: Blood Spiral Spear!
Auclair's throat was punctured like wet tissue paper. Blood squirted while Jean's face closed in to see Auclair's last expression.
"Fun Fact: I'm not using a Quirk. This is all skill." He said with a sick grin. As he retracted his bloody hand, Auclair fell to his knees, eyes rolling in the back of his head, and blood pooling around his body.
The ocelot guard was frozen in shock, Jean almost forgot he was there, but instead of killing him…
"Oh, what's your name? … wait, don't tell me." Jean asked, trying to figure out the guard's name.
"B-B-Beauocelot." The guard stuttered.
"Subtle name, oh right, what to do with you?" Jean questioned, hand signs pointing to Beauocelot.
The guard pleaded in French that he would walk away.
"Eh… fuck it. Why not." Jean responded casually. "You're no threat to me and I recommend finding a new line of work after this."
Beauocelot nodded nervously and with that, Jean walked away.
Dabi and Bloodgash were still making their way to their location: the radio tower. The riot itself was becoming further chaotic, gangs upon gangs turning on each other, and occasionally guards getting their limbs torn apart.
"Ignore the crazies, we have bigger priorities…" Bloodgash stated, Dabi following right behind.
One scene of a guard getting his jaw slowly separated did unnerve the merc a bit.
"Fucking animals," Bloodgash whispered. Picking up the pace, they cut through a less crowded stairway and only had to kick one convict occasionally.
"How long until we reach the radio tower?" Dabi asked, running.
"Not for another ten minutes. Ten if we maintain our pace and not run into more… difficulties…" Bloodgash responded, slowing to a stop as he saw a very familiar prison guard: big, pissed, and now turning their gaze towards the two.
"You…" he snarled.
"I'm surprised you're still alive, Dur Benet," Bloodgash replied back, noticing several broken convicts by the guard's feet. "You were quite busy, my partner and I are in a hurry, would–"
Crunch!
The sudden stomping of an already beaten convict's neck into red pulp put an end to whatever negotiation Bloodgash was planning. Dur Benet rushed towards the two, both arms turning a metallic sheen, and fully intent on pummeling the both of them to death. Dabi backstepped, only to get a gut punch in the stomach. The guard used the momentum to throw him away.
"The fu–" Bloodgash muttered before getting cut off by a jab to the jaw. Benet's left arm became a shinier sheen as he retracted and threw a cross punch. The merc shifted his head to dodge and counter with a long hook.
Benet's head drew blood as the hook punch landed. Bloodgash loaded his left arm and fired…!
Slash!
A quick cut right above Dur Benet's left eye. In a second, blood slowly poured from above the eyebrow, and covered it. Wiping away blood from his eye, Dabi snuck from behind and threw some flames at his back.
Dur Benet screams as the heat sears at his back. Turning around, he saw a smirking Dabi and was none too pleased to see him.
"Can you really afford to focus on me?" The burnt man mocked.
Dur Benet ignored the remark, wanting to get his hands on him.
WHAM! WHAM!
Dur Benet grunted, feeling the impact on his calf. Dabi landed a one-two combo on his distracted face and landed an inside kick of his own.
"Little shit!" Dur Benet yelled but Dabi lowered his stance and launched an elbow thrust into the guard's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"I'll finish this - you go on ahead for a bit." Bloodgash ordered Dabi. The burnt man nodded and went his way.
"You won't… gack… get away with this. They will find you, there will be–"
"Shut the fuck up," Bloodgash cut him off with a front kick. Dur Benet raised his guard at the moment of impact, and his arms still had a metallic sheen.
Name: Dur Benet
Quirk: Metallic Limbs - the user can turn his limbs and only his limbs into a metallic alloy.
"Still stubborn, huh," Bloodgash muttered. However, he noticed a tiny dent in the center. Dur Benet was getting up, the merc didn't allow that. Bloodgash raised his front leg and…
Meteor Shower Lash!
Dur Benet's guard was being bombarded with various kicks: side kicks, front kicks, and the occasional axe kick. The guard's defenses were creaking with every third kick.
With a single-second delay, Bloodgash executed a strong front kick, dead-center. However, Dur Benet wasn't out yet.
He was still holding on despite his right arm mangled in metallic form. The French guard growled in pain and Bloodgash sighed in exasperation.
"Just lie over and die - it's that simple." The merc spat, walking over to him. Dur Benet was prepping his remaining hand for offense but the merc saw through him: the prick was done for. The injured guard threw a weak jab that Bloodgash side-stepped.
WHAM!
Bloodgash planted an uppercut into Dur Benet's jaw, shattering a few teeth. Stunned, Dur Benet nursed his wound before the merc followed up with a hook punch into that wounded cheek.
The guard stumbled into a nearby wall, still struggling to get back up, but Bloodgash didn't wait for him to do that. In fact, he grabbed his head and slammed his knee into his face, dead-center. Over and over again.
Dur Benet's face resembled crushed ground beef after the last knee. However, the stubborn bastard still grabbed his front leg, vainly trying to stop him.
"Stubborn, aren't you?" Bloodgash spat, retracting his knee. Instead, he grabbed his wounded arm with both hands and slammed it over his knee!
"YOU - BAST-AHHHH!"
Bloodgash ignored him, stomping on his balls twice. The guard fell over, clutching his family jewels. The merc didn't bother finishing him off, humiliation like this was sufficient enough. Walking away, he heard the guard rant more.
"You'll die… I just fucking know it…!"
Bloodgash snorted in response.
"Shit like this? You'd have to try harder. By the time you'll do anything, I'll be long gone."
It was an hour since Jean walked away from the cells, either slashing through convicts or casually strolling. Sighing, he wondered where all the challenges went. Even the guards were getting cold feet at this point.
"Wow, one riot and they fall like a stack of cards." Jean sighed. He'd give for a fucking ambush attack now.
He felt a hand grab his shoulder and snatch him away to a small corridor. Before Jean could complain or slash, he immediately saw who grabbed him.
"Blanco? Really?"
"Si. Really." Blanco seethed. Jean noticed the hidden anger and stayed silent. For now.
Jean also saw the rest of the crew: all mercs who fought with Bloodgash. He also noticed some had pilfered rifles, likely from dead prison guards.
"We have come to a consensus," Blanco spoke up, getting Jean's attention.
"And that is…?"
"We are going to abandon Bloodgash, his offer is too risky, and most of all, it's not this Sensei I'm worried about," Blanco explained.
Jean was confused at that remark, scanning what exactly he meant. He wouldn't attack right now, he'd let Blanco spill.
"You don't get it? This Sensei is just a stepping stone for him. He wants to get back with them ." Blanco replied, venomous.
"Oh… I get it." Jean replied back, understanding. "You think Bloodgash is gonna leave you high and dry, right?"
"Oh, so you're not completely blood-crazed." Blanco added sardonically.
"Hey, I like to call it being enthusiastic," Jean corrected.
"... you're nuts, you know that. Anyway, are you in or out?" Blanco asked, dropping the big question.
"No, consider me out. Following Bloodgash will be far more rewarding and fun." Jean answered back. "The way I see it? You're chickening out."
Blanco growled a bit but kept his composure.
"You really want to die on that hill, Jean?" Blanco asked him again. Jean shrugged, not changing his answer.
Blanco motioned for two mercs, dressed in green, to take care of Jean. The blond merc struck Blanco in the jaw with a sucker punch, immediately ceasing any future negotiations.
The two mercs' eyes widened but they ran at Jean. That was their first mistake. Jean shrugged, sidestepping and cracking one of their calves with a kick.
"You basta–" one was cut off by a knife hand to the throat, courtesy of Jean. The other one whose calf was cracked threw an elbow slash.
Jean weaved and sliced through the merc's shoulder like a guillotine. The Frenchman grabbed his ears in a clinch, leaped up, and slammed his knee, dead-center, into his face.
As the merc was reeling and bleeding, Jean came from behind, hand raised up…
Nanto Bloodletting Guillotine!
The merc's head was bisected perfectly, stopping at the throat. Jean retracted his bloody hand and wiped the blood off by rubbing it on his pants.
"Reminds me of the Middle East," Jean briefly reminisced before engaging the other merc with a liver shot…
Bloodgash and Dabi were witnessing a unique sight just now: a fighting clown against a tall upright wolf. It was unique in the way that both prisoners were using their bare hands, no weapons, no cheats, just their bare hands. The former recognized them now.
"It's Minaccia and one of the good doctor's pet mutants," Bloodgash added, a bit of sarcasm in the last part.
"What was his name again?" Dabi asked, reminding the merc.
"Sfagilykos," Bloodgash answered.
Minaccia was throwing every sort of punch at the gray werewolf: jab, rear hook, cross punch, and the occasional uppercut. The gray wolf pivoted, right out of the clown's reach. The clown didn't growl in frustration, in fact, he gritted with excitement.
"The first real fight I got in a while, let's continue, stronzo." He barked, egging him on. He started swaying back and forth, activating his Quirk.
"This is Act 2, amico."
Name: Minaccia
Quirk: Momentum - medium level manipulation of kinetic energy, increasing the user's speed and reflexes.
Minaccia closed the distance between them quite quickly! Sfagilykos's eyes widened before putting up a guard.
Danza di Carneficina! [Dance of Carnage!]
The clown threw a punch, causing the wolf fighter to guard up… but no impact came.
BAM!
The wolf gasped in pain due to the real first strike: a liver shot. The clown was driving his fist in, causing Sfagilykos to grit his teeth. The clown retracted his fist quickly and delivered two more punches to the wolfman's face.
The wolfman swiped at him but due to the clown's enhanced reflexes, he dodged by backstepping and delivering a four hit combo to the body. Before he backstepped, the werewolf timed it and grabbed hold of the clown with both arms and bit into the shoulder like it was a snack.
Ripppp!
Sfagilykos tore a piece like it was meat and spat it out.
"Pezzo di-" grumbled Minaccia before he was cut off by a sharp elbow to the cheek. The clown stumbled, leaving himself open to attack.
Dánkoma Monachikoú Lýkou! [Lone Wolf Bite!]
The wolfman unloaded a whole flurry of jabs and crosses into the clown's upper body and focused on his head, making it his personal punching bag. The clown stepped back to avoid being pumm–
WHAM! WHAM!
Sfagilykos read that with a step forward and slammed the clown's side with two body kicks. The clown clutched his side as the wolfman followed up by grabbing his head in a Thai clinch.
Ágria Énstikta [Savage Instincts]
The wolfman bit down on the clown's nose, tearing it off like wet tissue paper. The wolf slammed his knee against his chest several times before releasing the clinch… and landing a right hook into his ear.
The clown is sent to the floor, bleeding like a stuck pig, but he's persistent. Minaccia tries going for his legs to take this to the ground.
"Really…" mumbled the wolfman, stepping away from the clown's attempt and dodging another attempt with a sidestep.
"Hold. Still!"
The wolfman kicked him like a soccer ball, shattering a few teeth. Minaccia groaned in pain before rising up and getting into his Kickboxing stance.
Sfagilykos weaved through the clown's strikes, seeing how blood loss was slowing down his performance. All that was needed was two to three more strikes.
Sfagí tis Óras! [Carnage of the Hour!]
The wolfman struck with a calf kick, mangling the clown's leg.
BAM!
The clown's pain was muffled by a jab which became a one-two. Then it became four. Then it became eight and it became ten…
BAM! BAM! BAM!
BAM! BAM!
BAM!
BAM! BAM! BAM!
BAM!
The clown's face was looking more like ground beef. He put up a pitiful guard which earned him a liver shot, knocking the air out of him.
"The coup de grace…" muttered the wolfman… Minaccia wondered–
Chomp!
Sfagilykos bit into the clown's throat horizontally and slowly tore it out like a decayed tooth… and kicked the dead clown's standing corpse into a wall.
A satisfied whistle came from Dabi, interrupting the wolfman's moment. "Damn, you massacred him." A smirk was evident on his face.
Sfagilykos growled, turning towards Dabi, prompting Bloodgash and the former to keep their guard up. The wolfman stepped forward before holding his head as if he was suffering a headache.
"Izvini…" he mustered out. "I lose myself… sometimes…"
"I'm guessing there's some kinks the good doctor didn't work out completely," Bloodgash added. The merc also heard a pair of footsteps, one heavier than the other. All three kept their guard up as the footsteps came closer.
"Ah, Sfagilykos. How did fighting that clown go?" A voice spoke up from a small distance. As the voice got closer, Bloodgash recognized it as the good doctor, Webb. The silver highlights in his hair being a definite hallmark.
"What do you think, doc?" Dabi remarked, pointing to the bloodied corpse. Webb peered at it and whistled, giving his fighter a thumbs up.
"Exceeded within expectations. On another hand, I'm disappointed to have not experimented on this one." Webb replied, examining the corpse, especially looking at the missing throat. "It doesn't matter… there will be other opportunities in the meantime." He shrugged.
Bloodgash examined the doctor, analyzing if he can become a good asset. On the other hand, he doesn't seem to be the type to go rogue. For now.
"Why not come with us?" Dabi popped the big question. Webb looked at him, thinking about it.
"Hypothetically. If I were to join, what would I get out of it?" Webb asked.
"I'd ask this: what's your overall goal?" Dabi asked a question back.
"It's quite simple." Webb answered. "I'm looking to give some athletes a second chance they were denied." All with a smirk on his face.
"Promise me you'll hold back on… whatever you did to them," Bloodgash asked, pointing out the wolfman.
"The mutations were pretty minor - just a tiny bit of bloodlust on his part. The other? He's sometimes dim as a light." Webb answered back.
"Fine by me." Bloodgash responded. He motioned for him to follow him. "Also bring your pets."
"Well, we did a good job," spoke Jean as he wiped blood off his sleeves. He looked at his handiwork, whistling at the carnage. Bodies sliced apart with the occasional head split open like a watermelon.
"For people to have run with Bloodgash, I'm frankly disappointed," replied Jean to a mangled corpse. "I thought some of you would put up a better fight. Guess I expected too much," sighed the Frenchman in disappointment.
The sounds of fists hitting upon flesh caught his attention. As he turned, he saw both Sonnenberg and Blanco still fighting each other. The blond-haired German was getting hard countered by the white tattooed Mexican, whether by elbow or kick.
"Come on, German. That Mexican merc has less experience than you!" Jean exclaimed, mixing both sarcasm and worry.
Sonnenberg didn't need the backseat commentary – this tattooed merc was tougher than he thought. Each strike was either parried or blocked, ending with the German getting clocked in the face.
"Once you're dead. Jean, you're next!" Blanco barked. The French merc shrugged. Sonnenberg took advantage of that moment to strike with a vertical left elbow. Blanco got a small cut above the eye as a result.
The Mexican needed to finish this fight and now. Blood above the eye? Will be problematic for his vision. Wiping the blood off would be a temporary solution. Sonnenberg grabbed his face with one hand and struck him in the chest four times.
Sonnendurchbruch! [Sunburst!]
A front teep landed into Blanco, stunning him long enough for the follow-up: the axe kick. Right into the shoulder. The Mexican got up only to meet a teep in the face, breaking some of his teeth, and splaying him over the floor.
"Kindly walk away and you'll live." The German remarked.
Blanco spat out some teeth and blood, then glared at Sonnenberg… "I know you're rational, German. You think following Bloodgash is the real choice."
The German and Frenchman shrugged, though the former wondered why Blanco thought that.
"Do you know what Bloodgash plans to fucking do?!" Blanco exclaimed. "He wants to go back to his old pals . If he'll sacrifice you to get closer, he wi–" he was cut off by a kick in the jawline, courtesy of Jean.
"What?" Jean spoke. "It was gonna be a boring conversation anyway."
Blanco groaned in pain, feeling his mouth split open, trying to mumble words. Jean sighed, walked over, and thrust a knife hand into the center of his forehead.
The last words of Blanco were death gurgles…
Bloodgash, Dabi, the doctor, and his two mutants were navigating their way through the prison. Occasionally, they had to fight one or two stragglers off. Otherwise, they saw more dead convicts than live ones.
Guards? Some were found torn apart like paper. Some of them were missing their heads and others were missing limbs, but one stood out: his chest and face were caved in: almost like a boulder hit them from above.
Dabi whistled at the handiwork. "Someone was definitely pissed today. What do you say, doc?"
"Refer to me as Webb and to answer, it's likely one of the more high risk convicts. If I had to guess, the local monk."
"The Monk of Brutality." Bloodgash cut in. "You know something about him that we don't?"
"Not particularly but from what I heard: he was once a street punk from Tokyo who underwent a moment of crisis. That's all I know, the rest are unverified rumors." Webb explained.
Bloodgash nodded, noting it was good enough. Motioning to continue on, the rest of the party followed. As they moved on, they saw more of the monk's handiwork. One of the mutants was uneasy, almost throwing up.
"Keep your nerve, plus think about it like this: the Monk is saving us tons of work fighting to our destination." Webb reasoned.
Dabi heard the sound of a body hitting the floor, the rest of the party got their guards up, more than ready to fight if need be. The burnt man took point, edging closer to the source of the noise.
"Fucking… bastard…" muttered the source. Scuffs against the ground implied they were struggling to get up. Then flopped to the ground again.
"Once… I'm done healing," the hurt one gagged. "I'm gonna find that Inner Zen asshole…" they still gagged. The bald headed monk was a complete surprise to him, he didn't think he was that strong or still had gas in the tank.
"Huh, didn't think I would see you in this state, Apex." A familiar voice said. Apex turned his head around and saw Bloodgash in his scarred glory along with a burnt man, a gray haired doctor, and two mutants, more mutated than normal.
"You…" Apex gagged, still recovering from the caved-in stomach, courtesy of that monk.
"Hmmm… seems you're in a precarious state." Webb examined Apex, looking at the injury.
"No fucking shit, doctor." Apex snapped back. Turning towards Bloodgash, he spat some blood towards him. "Whatever plan you had - that monk is gonna be a real pain in the ass."
Bloodgash motioned for him to continue.
"Genju Myotoji - the guy kept getting up no matter the injury. Stabbings? Just made him annoyed. Strikes? It only tickled him. It's like this crusader mentality gave him a literal boost." Apex explained.
"Does he become a brute while fighting?" Bloodgash asked.
"No, no. Not at all." Apex answered. "I'm sure he fights like an expert on a fast forward button."
Bloodgash, taking this information in, now realized there was a clear and present threat. On top of that, the monk screamed non-recruitable. Like a certain Hero Killer of the long past.
"This monk will be problematic… ugh… looks like I'll need Jean's help after all." The merc said to himself, not liking his options.
"If you think I'm coming with you - don't." Apex said, interrupting the merc's thoughts. "I thought about the offer, hard pass. There is nothing for me out there."
"Are you sure? Don't you want–"
"Do you have a hearing problem?" Apex interjected. "There. Is. Nothing. For me. Out there!"
"... well, that's disappointing." Bloodgash replied back. "You could have made a great asset but you decided to be stubborn."
"You're gonna kill me like the rest, huh?" Apex dared.
"I won't. Leaving you here with that injury? Look forward to pissing blood." The merc spat. He motioned for the rest of his party to leave the ex-hero.
Apex, one way or another, knew his time was coming to an end…
"You sure it was a good idea to leave Apex like that?" Webb asked.
"Guys like him are stubborn - too hard-headed to know there's a different path." Bloodgash explained to the doctor. "Besides, he would be experimental bait for you."
Webb shrugged at that, not disputing him.
"One suggestion: we recruit Wild Wyla and True Fear." Dabi spoke up.
"We will cross that bridge when we get there," Bloodgash replied back. "Besides, my old crew should be sufficient enough."
"If you say so," Dabi said back.
"Look - they're experienced enough. I can vouch for them." Bloodgash defended. Dabi did not say anything in response to that.
"We got company…" Webb spoke up. Said company: a group of horror movie rejects, all led by a man in a makeshift hockey mask.
"I have no time for stragglers - kill them." Bloodgash ordered.
Jean and Sonnenberg walked out of the bloody corridor. All at an impasse. The German spoke up.
"You know Bloodgash is going to find out, right?" All laced with worry. "He's gonna–"
"Kindly keep your fucking nerve, mon ami." Jean spat. "The way I see it, Blanco had cold feet and the rest of the crew had the same idea too."
"Are you hearing yourself?" The German responded back, wondering if Jean was thinking this through.
"This will be the cover story: Blanco got cold feet and attacked us first, got it?" Jean said, not budging.
Sonnenberg sighed in disbelief but another problem would come up: Do they find Bloodgash or vice versa?
"Preferably, I would rather run into him. Saves me the effort." Jean replied.
"You think this League of Villains is just a stepping stone for him?"
"Oh definitely. He wants back and bad." Jean spoke. "Knowing them, there would be a catch."
"Who are these people that Bloodgash wants to go back to that badly? Blanco seemed terrified of them. You seem not to care for them." Sonnenberg questioned.
"I never got to know the name. I can confirm that they're a Chinese-based outfit." Jean answered nonchalantly. "However, the way Bloodgash talked about them, it sounded like some ancient cult out of a bad action manga."
"You read manga?" Sonnenberg interjected, ignoring the point. Jean stared at him with a look that said is that really important?
"... getting back on point, this Chinese outfit is one part death cult; one part assassin group; and one part, private handler."
"Handler?" Sonnenberg asked curiously.
"You heard right. If they want something risky done, they outsource it to a third party. If they succeed, it means they're reliable. If not, nothing is traced back to them at least." Jean explained, almost clinical.
"I'm starting to get an idea why you don't care for them. You expect them to stab you in the back at some point?" Sonnenberg asked. Jean said nothing, confirming what the German thought.
"But hey… before that day comes, I'm gonna follow Bloodgash out of this hell hole." A smirk on Jean's face, relieves Sonnenberg. Somewhat. "It seems where he goes, excitement is gonna follow."
"Ah, there he is." Sonnenberg remarked. "The bloodthirsty Frenchman I know and care for." Deadpan lining the German's tone.
"Oh, he never left. Occasionally, I have moments like this." Jean responded. "Let's get a move on, we wasted enough time as it is."
Sonnenberg nodded in agreement.
Erinyes Chow Hall
A small crew of convicts were trying to fortify their position, getting the collective idea that it was better to survive as a group instead of fighting for scraps. In fact, two convicts took the lead.
"Never thought I'd be sharing with you." A blond Chinese man said to a blue-haired man with an athletic build.
"Dao Lang, right? Heard you were a cop in Hong Kong." The blue-haired man said.
"And you were losing your edge, Mach-8." Dao stated. However, Mach-8 did not take offense at that. He just sighed in a mix of disappointment and acceptance.
"Yup, peddled Trigger, and I got caught for it. Now? I'm not sure if I want to break out of this hellhole." Mach-8 added.
Before Dao Lang could respond back, he saw the front doors slowly open, revealing a tall figure: bald, heavyset, and most prominent: his hands in a praying position.
"Wait a minute, is that who I think it is?" Dao said to himself, unsure of who it is. "Don't do anything hasty, we're–" before he was cut off by Mach-8.
"It's that fucking monk." Mach-8 spoke up, fear evident.
"Wait, that monk. The same monk that goes on and on about salvation through death? That monk?! Genju Myotoji! That fucking monk?!" Dao exclaimed, panic gradually rising.
The monk was closing in on them, still in prayer, and coming to a stop. Three meters away from the two.
"... so it seems I have come across several souls in need of salvation." The monk spoke, breaking his silence. "Come forth and embrace salvation by my hand…" He said, taking an orthodox stance. The entire gang armed themselves with knives and guard batons, but there was panic in their forms.
"Don't do anything rash… he may be one man but he's killed his way here," Dao Lang warned, trying to maintain the collective composure.
"Fuck him up before he gets a chance!" Mach-8 blurted out. Like that, three gangsters went forward with batons. Panicking, the middle one raised his baton high…
"Your salvation is at hand…"
THUD!
The middle thug's throat was partly caved in by a knife hand strike. The left thug was hit by a low inside kick and an elbow strike to the face.
The right thug slammed the baton into the center of his head but… he was unfazed despite the bleeding. Genju looked at him, almost daring him.
"Fuck you!"
Genju deflected the baton with a forearm block and grabbed the thug's arm, redirecting him by tossing him onto the floor and then stomping his face in.
Crunch! !
The two thugs witnessed what just happened: their friend's face was reduced to a red puddle.
The middle thug dropped his weapon and ran for his life, screaming monster. The remaining thug froze but he attacked a second too late.
Genju caught the thug's hand and struck the solar plexus with his free hand… cracking the ribcage.
Bright King's Hammer!
A pair of twin hammer fists come down on the thug's shoulders, cracking both, and the monk backstepped. His rear foot coming close to his lead foot, making him chamber his leg and fire it like a bullet.
Crunch!
The thug was dead with that single teep to the chest. Mach-8 and Dao Lang realize they need to step up.
The former cop showed off his Quirk, bone-like growths in his knuckles and also knees.
Name: Dao Lang
Quirk: Boneblades - the user grows bone like growths on specific parts of the body, applicable for close quarters combat.
Mach-8's servy blue hair was emitting some electricity. "Let's kill this guy quickly."
Name: Mach-8
Quirk: Surge - the user primarily uses it to move at incredible speed, creating minor shockwaves as they run.
Genju adopted a more traditional Karate stance, realizing this fight will be more difficult.
Name: Genju Myotoji AKA the Monk of Brutality
Quirk: Fervor - Crusader like mentality converts into increased endurance.
Mach-8 was impatient, speeding towards Genju, intending to kill him.
WHIFF! WHIFF!
Genju used his forearm to parry Mach-8's one-two combo. The monk's forearm was shaking due to the shockwaves given off by the blue haired athlete's Quirk.
Dao Lang leapt, piercing his left shoulder and striking his side with a sharpened knee. The monk grunted in pain as the bones were digging in. Mach-8 unleashed a volley of several Quirk-enhanced punches to his face, doing all he can to knock him down.
"Keep going, he's slowing down!" Dao Lang yelled, still driving those sharp bones of his.
"I'm trying - you think yo–" Mach-8 barked until he was cut off by a backhand to his mouth. The athlete recovered but was met with another quick jab into his mouth, shattering several teeth.
Mach-8 fell to his knees in agony, covering his mouth.
"What the?! How are you–" Dao Lang sputtered as the monk slowly forced the knuckle-blades out of his shoulder.
WHAM!
The wind was knocked out of Dao Lang with a straight punch to the sternum. His knee loosened up, giving enough room for Genju to pull out without more injury.
"Pain like this…" Genju said, motioning to his wounds. "... are pebbles in my crusade." Cracking his knuckles, he was ready to fight again.
Wheezing, Dao took a few steps back. Mach-8 rose, unsteady, spitting out some loose teeth. The ex-cop motioned to Mach-8 to which the athlete nodded. Electricity sparked through his hair again while Dao covered his knuckles in bone-like material. Small spikes between the knuckles of course.
"Flank him and don't stop…" Dao ordered. Mach-8 snorted in response and made his move.
Mach: Surging Flame!
Mach-8 broke into a sprint, instead of towards him, he went around him in a circle. Circling around Genju - Mach-8 closed the distance and threw two punches into the monk's side, then went back running in a circle.
Genju put up his guard now - just waiting for him to–
BAM! CRACK!
Mach-8 elbowed the back of his head and followed up with a hook! Genju coughed a bit, barely stumbling. Dao took advantage of this by running up and used a classic: jab-cross-hook.
"I know this isn't enough, but it's a good start!" Dao barked as he exited out of the monk's range.
Mach-8 nodded to Dao.
Combo: Surging Spears!
Mach-8 was at Genju's right, throwing quite a few jabs and crosses. On his left, Dao was throwing a stream of jabs into the monk.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Genju kept up his guard, but the volley of strikes made him feel like a pinball in an enclosed space.
WHAM! WHAM! BAM!
BAM! BAM!
Dao noticed Genju taking a deep breath while keeping up his guard: arms closed up, feet shoulder-width apart, and his head tucked in.
Fudo Shell!
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
BAM! BAM!
Each strike sent into Genju started having less effect on him, Dao stopped his barrage, chambered his front leg, and fired…
…but Genju side-stepped, grabbed it, and slammed into the knee with a downwards elbow.
"Fu-fuck!" Dao exclaimed. Mach-8 was shocked by this, briefly stopping and that would be his final mistake. Genju swung around, executing a roundhouse kick into his leg, emitting a loud crack.
Hosho: Purifier of Pride!
Genju struck first with a parallel punch - hitting the solar plexus, making Mach-8 gag…
"Your salvation is close…" Genji muttered, chambering his fists.
WHAM! WHAM!
BAM! WHAM!
Mach-8 was pummeled with four straight punches into the upper body. The athlete coughed up blood and threw a sloppy punch…
… Genju dipped low, grabbed him in a waistlock, and violently flipped him onto his back, making a small crater. Genju rose up and slammed his foot into the injured Mach-8's head, cracking it like an egg.
"I am grateful you have achieved salvation. Do not worry, you won't be alone on the journey." Genju spoke.
"Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking psycho!" Dao screamed, trying to get away.
"Do not worry, salvation will come to you." Genju said, walking towards the injured ex-cop.
The ex-cop was struggling on one leg… but that would only delay the inevitable.
"Help!"
There was no one around except the slow footsteps of the monk.
"Help!"
…
"Dammit! Someone! Help!" the ex-cop pleaded.
…
"Do not make this more difficult: your salvation is near." Genju said solemnly.
Bloodgash's party was fighting through another cell block but the opposition went down like puppets with their strings cut. The merc crushed one convict's neck with a high kick while the final member dropped his weapon and ran for it.
"Huh, he's being smart," Dabi remarked.
"Who was he?" Bloodgash asked.
Webb took notice of his features: lean build, bald, and nothing really came to mind. Except for the red rose tattoo on the back of his head.
The rose-tattooed convict was cursing himself out for not running for it sooner. All he needs to do now is find someplace to hole up until actual help arrives.
"Maybe the showers," the convict said to himself, checking his rear if anyone followed him. "Okay, coast is clear. Now, I just–"
SPLORCH!
The convict gagged as blood was pouring out of him, courtesy of a hand puncturing his stomach.
"What t-the–"
"You can chalk this up to bad luck, ami." The stabber spoke, revealing himself to be Jean. "You had to run into me of all people."
The rose-tattooed convict gagged in response, trying to form words. Jean, on the other hand, paid him no mind as he retracted his bloodied hand out of the man's stomach.
Sonnenberg came out of the shadows, "Did you really need to kill him?" Disapproval lined his tone.
Jean shrugged. "If you ask me, I'm doing him a favor. He seemed like the type that couldn't do well on his own."
Sonnenberg sighed in exasperation.
Jean and Sonnenberg walked out of the shadows via the cell block exit. Bloodgash's eyes narrowed but sighed in acceptance.
"... you know, I'm not surprised you would survive." the merc said, backhandedly.
"You wound me," Jean said with mock hurt. "However, Sonnenberg surprised me too. He's handy in a brawl."
"Speaking of, didn't you mention you had a crew, Gash?" Dabi spoke up. Bloodgash nodded in acknowledgment.
"Ah, them. Well… they wanted to leave you out to dry." Jean explained. Bloodgash listened to it. "I said no, Sonnenberg too."
"Wait, are they dead?!" Bloodgash interjected. Jean nodded. "Motherfucker! Motherfucker!" He ranted, stomping the ground.
"Blanco - he was the one in charge of the whole mutiny. Likely, he'd run at the first chance out of Japan." Sonnenberg added, supporting Jean's argument.
"What? Blanc-oh, that piece of shit." Bloodgash growled, remembering Blanco's little rant to him. He didn't think he'd turn on him this early on. "There goes half the manpower I had for the League!"
"Hey, hey." Dabi cut in, attempting to placate Bloodgash. "Remember what you told me? The convicts you might be interested in recruiting?"
Bloodgash nodded, wondering where he was going with it.
"Let's recruit them or whatever's left at this point," Dabi concluded. "If not, I can always burn them to a crisp."
"That'll do, Dabi. That'll do." Bloodgash accepted. "All the more reason to get to that tower then. Make a huge announcement."
"A race to the finish amongst the current survivors…" Jean theorized. "I like… I actually like that. Gives a whole purpose amongst the carnage." A smile on his face, relishing in the coming casualties.
Erinyes Chow Hall
A torn body was in the center. A headless body to his left. Another with his head crushed like a can of soup. Another whose spinal column punctured a taller convict. All done by a single monk.
"None shall leave this place…" the monk said while sitting in a lotus position: legs crossed and hands clasped in prayer. "Salvation will be brought to those willing, whether they know it or not…"
Genju's crusade was just beginning…
Author's Note:
Oh, boy. I was gone but work and A03. On top of that, I'm more active on Discord than on FFN now. Also Happy New Year!
Translations:
Retournez dans vos cellules! = Back to your cells!
C'est lui ou nous = It's him or us
Merde = Shit
Pire, il est le Croquemitaine. Pour être plus précis, le Croquemitaine du Japon. = Worse, the Boogeyman. To be more precise, Japan's Boogeyman.
La put– = the fuc-
Enfoiré! = Bastard!
Espèce de bâtard de merde!" = You fucking bastard!
Vous êtes tous morts = You're all dead
On dirait que je te dois une ou deux explications. Je peux m'expliquer ou tu vas continuer à me fixer du regard = Looks like I owe you an explanation or two. I can explain or you're going to keep staring at me
Si vous n'êtes toujours pas convaincu, j'enlèverai lentement tout ce qui peut être considéré comme une arme, = If you're still not convinced, I'll slowly remove anything that can be considered a weapon,
Nous avons tout notre temps, bon sang. Alors expliquez-moi pourquoi vous avez libéré tous les condamnés, = We've got plenty of time, for God's sake. Then explain to me why you released all the convicts,
Parle, enfoiré! = Speak, bastard!
Il m'a demandé d'aider deux condamnés récemment arrivés, = He asked me to help two recently arrived convicts,
J'ai voulu résister, vraiment... mais il m'a proposé deux choses: le règlement de ma dette restante et un lieu de vacances de mon choix. C'est drôle comme ça marche. = I wanted to resist, I really did... but he offered me two things: settlement of my remaining debt and a vacation spot of my choice. Funny how that works out.
Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas rejeté son offre ? Si vous aviez tant de problèmes financiers... = Why didn't you reject his offer? If you had so many financial problems...
Celui à qui vous devez de l'argent ? C'est un méchant infâme, n'est-ce pas? = The one you owe money to? He's a vile villain, isn't he?"
Vous... vous... tout ça pour une dette?! = You... you... all this for a debt?!"