He walked up to the black-clad man and stopped directly in front of him, considering his options.
It was a stretch to say he was averse to killing the man, as noble a warrior as he might have been to secure the life of the whelp first. No, few things could change his mind when he had decided on a path, and self-doubt was not something he knew.
He had been lost and untethered ever since he arrived on this plane. On one hand, the peace he could experience here was a novel thing. It was a true peace, unlike the faux one created before Aizen's rebellion and Yhwach's return.
He was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto, the eldest Shinigami to hold the esteemed position of Captain-Commander for countless millennia, unchallenged as no one had ever risen to the level of strength required to wrest the title from his grasp. His pride demanded a reply to the slight.
The man could do nothing but stand, and even that seemed to be the limit of what he was capable of.
What better way to defer further confrontation than well-calculated brutality? In the end, humans, Shinigami, Quincy, or Hollow, were all the same; they all respected power. And if this was not enough to deter further inquisition...
He lifted the sword and stared into the eye he was about to damn into oblivion.
The swing was a quick thing, a simple act that he had done for as long as he drew breath. Yet this simple swing held the strength and echo of millennia and was to him as mundane as the act of a farmer trimming weeds.
The steel blade parted cloth, muscle, and bone with disgusting ease, powered by his inhuman strength. The cut was so thin that it took an extra second for the upper split half of the body to slide down macabrely.
The scene in front of him was poetic and would definitely have drawn a full-blown poem from his more whimsical subordinate. It was a familiar one; the only difference was that he was the one standing this time.
"No!"
He could hear the soul-wrenching scream the girl let out as she was dragged off further.
They were not so far that they had escaped his range, but he had spent the past minutes while walking to the now-dead man reining in his reiatsu once more.
He turned his head to meet her stare; she had hate in her eyes. Yet as much hate as she had in her eyes, there was something else there. Fear.
He remembered those eyes, different features, a different gender, and a different world. But it was all the same. He had not spared Yhwach due to some misguided attempt at compassion. Ichiebe had come to him with a plan, one that he deemed disgusting yet crucial. A new soul king, and who better than a prince?
...
Blowing through the city at a speed that would've had them running the light and the several police patrol cars flagging them, he feels some degree of excitement rampaging around his systems.
Warning: moderate adrenaline increase.
Result: increased responses and decreased cognition by irrelevant levels.
Recommendations: None.
His closed system called out to him in his helmet, highlighting what he already knew but with more facts.
A slight shift to the side, and his tinker tech bike responds smoothly, dodging past a car that was going the opposite way. He could not blame the civilians, considering the amount of murderous implements that he could see forming just above the region.
Iron rain was letting loose in the heart of small Asia, and everybody and everything in the surroundings was going to be collateral damage unless they got there on time.
Another tilt of his body, alongside the increase in throttle, and he slips past another retreating car. This would be his first outing with the bike; it was the work of two months, ever since he got the call of his official placement as one of the Brockton Bay Protectorate caps, and it was holding up admirably so far.
'You're going too fast, Armsmaster-san."
The aged voice of his partner called out through his headset, forcing him to reduce the throttle on the bike somewhat. He wasn't going too fast. He was going only fast enough, but he had learned at the feet of the first true heroes and knew when to temper his actions with the advice of his superior, despite his personal feelings on the matter
He glanced up at his partner and mentor in this particular case, Kudzu.
He had read the green-robed man's file. A shaker and master cape, the man was a descendant of one of the many Japanese immigrants from the 1920s gold rush.
His family had moved around before they finally settled down in Brockton Bay. The man had been given a more frontline position, especially during PRT photo stunts and propaganda, as a representative for the burgeoning rise in Japanese immigrants over the past few months.
It was also one of the major reasons the man was deployed in this particular case. A friendly face stepping in to stop a fight in the heart of the populated Asian immigrants' area was a good idea, and it was already working.
He could see the few people trying to give distance, raise their heads to look at the wooden facemask of the older man and relax considerably.
Time to destination: Five minutes.
His onboard VI called. They were making good time; now all that was left was—
"Armsmaster," Kudzu called out, dragging him from his thoughts. He looked up at his fellow hero, but the movement of something else drew his attention. The projectiles were falling; a split second later, they suddenly increased in speed, so fast that the steel blades began to heat up, tearing a molten path through the sky as they gained more momentum. "Brace yourself," Kudzu called out, his voice hard.
Warning: Sound barrier broken.
Recommendation: Brace.
This was more than anything that had ever been recorded from Iron-Rain. She had never managed to reach supersonic speed with her projectiles; her limits were subsonic, so what the fu—
He could see the way the glasses in buildings and cars ahead of them shattered with immense force. The sound wave had finally gotten to them. His helmet automatically activated noise cancellation and reinforced padding for the ears.
A twist and a press of a button on his bike raised a reinforced glass derivative shield that he ducked under, and even with that—
Boom.
The sheer force that followed almost sent him skidding to the side, but he had spent years as a Ward, this was not his first outing as a cape, and he stabilized his bike quickly.
Turning the throttle up, he tore his way through the dust cloud that had been raised and continued his course straight for the impact point, heedless of Kudzu's warnings to slow down.
Dodging past broken and destroyed cars, he got to the impact point and drifted his way to a stop, staring with wide eyes at the supposed devastation.
The ground was littered with swords, blades, spears, and different polearms that made the place seem like a long-forgotten battlefield. And in the middle of all that was an old white-bearded man with a blade, beneath him was the bisected form of a familiar body.
Name: Krieg.
Affiliation: Empire 88
Alignment: Villain
Status: Pending... Deceased
Classification: Shaker 6, Brute 4.
His onboard VI called out; he blinked away the message and continued to observe the scene with surprise.
Krieg was one of the most experienced members of E88 with the power to back it up. He had rumored ties to Gesellschaft and was one of the reasons E88 had risen so high and so fast under the reign of All-Father. His tactical experience and age smoothed over All father's more aggressive methods.
His presence here explained the sudden increase in speed of Iron Rain's projectiles displayed; what it didn't explain was why he was here and not with All-Father.
The old man turned his head away from the dead body beneath him, and Collins saw his face for the first time, his uncovered and unmasked face. The man had to be a cape, to have survived the combined attack of two of E88 heavy hitters and kill one moments later.
He was an old man with a long white beard and brows that flowed with his black and white robes. He had weather-beaten yet sharp features and thin eyes that were cracked open by the tiniest bit. The zoom feature of his helmet was the only reason he saw the color of the eyes.
Crimson red, Unnatural.
Name: Unknown
Affiliation: Unknown
Alignment: Unknown
Status: hdidjhishERRORcucdhjdERRORjsudchusiERROR
Classification: Unknown
An unregistered cape, yet the most troubling thing was the error reading that almost turned him mad with the insistent blaring. An aggressive blink turned off the notification.
He looked back up to see the man walk past the body, ignoring the scattered forms of what Collins's helmet identified as E88 thugs, and moved with purpose, a slow and dreadful walk towards a young man and the armored girl he was dragging away. Iron Rain.
He held a blade to his side, a katana his helmet identified once more, and judging from the composition of the blade, hilt, and grip being all steel, it was one of Iron Rain's blades.
The sound of blood dripping from the blade as the old man continued what seemed like a leisurely stroll toward the still-struggling duo broke him from the fog of confusion that had settled on him ever since he saw the bisected body of Krieg.
His instincts kicked in as he swung his legs over the bike and reached behind him for his halberd, drawing and unfolding it in one smooth motion before calling out with a shout, his helmet modifying his voice and deepening it to make him seem older and gruff.
"Halt!" He screamed out as he marched forward. The unnamed cape had killed one person already, villain or not. Collins was not going to allow him to kill another. Not today.
To his greatest surprise, the old man slowed to a stop, turning his head to face Collins with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head.
"What are you doing?" He questioned with as much authority as he could pack into his voice.
The old man looked around at the destruction that the E88 duo had caused, then the body of Kreig behind him, the still-dripping blade in his hands, and finally, the armored girl and man duo that had stopped a few meters away from them before sending his half-lidded gaze at Collins once more.
In hindsight, he realized how stupid the question had been, and the look the man sent him was more scolding than any words that he would have said. Yet he was Armsmaster, the foremost student of The Greatest Hero.
He bulldozed his way past the brief awkwardness and made to speak once more before someone else spoke over him.
"I would like you to drop the blade, honored elder," Kudzu spoke up from behind him. The other man had finally caught up and had a bearing that matched the assailant, composure for composure.
"Does your order forbid self-defense?" The white-bearded man finally spoke. His voice was a hard and harsh thing, bringing to mind gravel cracking and creaking under pressure. But it carried something more than harshness and strength; it held the tinge of a mandate, authority bestowed and taken.
"Of course not, honored elder," Kduzu replied smoothly and walked past Collins; his green robes moved to obscure his form. "Yet you've protected what is yours already and retaliated adequately." Kduzu pointed at the still black-clothed form still on the ground. "I am afraid I cannot allow you to continue any further."
"I will personally determine the appropriate retaliation for any disrespect shown," the elderly man responded curtly in that raspy tone before resuming his stride. His intent was lethal, and his destination: Iron-Rain.
Collins shook his head, casting off the surprise. It didn't matter what the delusional old man thought; he wouldn't allow him to kill another. He stepped up, walking past Kudzu, who had chosen to remain silent and unmoving. If he wasn't going to stop him, then he would. He made to interject and move closer before the old man pinned him to the spot with his eyes.
Suddenly, Collins found it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to even think. It was like he had crossed a barrier, one that weighed heavily on him with every breath he took. He could feel sweat trailing down his back, and spots formed on his face as he strained to move, his servos whirling at such a frantic pace he knew the enhanced strength his suit granted him was all that stopped him from falling flat on the ground.
Warning: Sudden Temperature increase.
Recommendation: Retreat. The automatic cooling unit is still inactive. His onboard VI alerted him, but he had no time to address it.
An automatic cooling unit, one of his many unfinished designs and contingencies if he ever had to face Behemoth. The old man's eyes drifted from him, ignoring his stilled form as he moved toward Iron Rain once more before freezing on the spot and turning to face old man Kudzu.
The sudden sensation of something drifting up his legs sent a chill down his spine as he forced himself to move once more. In a split second, it coiled around his waist before roughly tugging him back with enough force that it forced his armor to creak dangerously. Yet, it was enough to get him out of the range of whatever the man did that froze his movement.
He rolled to his feet a second later, Halberd still in his arms, before staring down at what tugged him and recognizing it as a vine, a thick green vine almost as wide as a human thigh. A grunt of effort and pain rang out at his side, drawing his attention.
Iron Rain and the man that had been supporting her had been pulled back just as he had. More vines were wrapping their struggling forms aggressively into a cocoon, and a second later, their struggles stopped. He glanced back to see the vines coming out of the ground just beneath Kudzu's feet, and the two old men continued to stare at each other.
"I understand that you and yours have been attacked, and I will make sure Rain and her accomplices bear the brunt of their sins. But this is not the Realm of the Rising Sun, honored elder. Here, they have their own rules, rules that protect it," Kudzu spoke, his usual soothing tone managing to be even more courteous than he expected.
Something about those words must've tugged on the old man because, despite the complete unwavering act he had borne throughout, to their greatest surprise, he remained still and stared at them for three short seconds, where he pinned them with his gaze before he closed those red orbs slowly.
He flipped the sword into a reverse grip before sinking it into the ground in one smooth movement. The other materialized weapons that littered the surroundings had already begun to dematerialize into nothing. The sole weapon that had resisted the effect for so long was the katana the old man held in his hands.
The further he walked away from it, the faster it suddenly began to deteriorate, breaking and dissolving into nothing like its sister weapons. The old man picked up a staff from where he had left it.
His onboard VI automatically moved to scan it but was bombarded with another round of Error messages that he was forced to swipe away.
Ignoring their potential to pose a threat, the man nonchalantly turned away from them. With deliberate and measured strides, he made his way towards the building where Rain and Kreig's hired thugs lay scattered about.
An older woman, seemingly of age with the man, had the door opened and her head tilted in a bow as the man walked past her and into the building.
"Are we simply allowing him to walk away?" Collins inquired, his gaze fixed on his senior hero, who seemed preoccupied with his hands pressed to his ears. After concluding his communication, the senior hero turned to Collins and responded.
"Regrettably, yes. We will revisit this later. However—" Collins interjected before his superior could proceed, his tone laced with disbelief and anger as he spoke over the senior hero.
"A cape is dead, killed in broad daylight, and we're just going to walk away?!"
Kudzu stared at him passively, at least Collins assumed he did. His mask was a blank-featured wood, with no space for an eye slit.
"The Slaughterhouse Nine are in town right now, do you know what that means?" Kudzu replied; his tone had a lecturing tone to it like he was talking to a particularly slow child.
"The Slaughterhouse Nine?" He questioned in surprise.
Kudzu disregarded his question and pivoted around. A massive leaf materialized beneath his feet as he gracefully settled into a cross-legged position on the hovering leaf. Their captives were deposited beside him on the leaf before he deemed it appropriate to respond to Collins once again.
"The whole city is in danger right now. With no reports of any casualties among the nine in recent months, this is not a recruitment drive. They are our primary concerns at the moment, not an elderly man safeguarding his residence."
"But he kil—"
Kudzu interrupted him once more, his voice firm. "He will be held accountable for Kreig's death, but that is not our immediate concern. Our focus is on securing Iron Rain at the PRT headquarters. Backup is en route to deal with the unconscious thugs, with strict instructions to only detain them. The old man is to be left untouched, at least until we deal with the Slaughterhouse Nine."
Collins nodded in understanding, though he struggled against the notion of allowing someone who so blatantly disregarded the unspoken rules to walk away. Yet, it wasn't just Kudzu's words that prompted him to swing his legs over his bike and start the engine.
It was the sense of dread that had gripped him the moment he entered the old man's domain.
...
"So Kreig is dead, and All-Father's spawn, Iron Rain, has been taken by the PRT," she stated. Old man Yamamoto remained silent, his eyes shut as he sat cross-legged. She knew his reticence wasn't directed at her in particular, so she continued.
"I worry that the Empire 88 might seek retribution for the loss of their members," she remarked casually as she tidied up the sitting room, dusting and rearranging the few decorations that had fallen during the commotion. Their home had been shielded from the worst of the damage by the glowing yellow barrier that had enveloped it when the Empire 88 duo launched their attack.
The old man appeared unperturbed as he finally deemed it fit to reply to her, "Let them come."
Note: This would be my last AOMR chapter for a while. At least till I'm done with the current arc of CE. Apologies to those that turned up solely for it.