Meanwhile, on the Westside

[Luci]

San Yi had been in a sour mood ever since he had first heard that Might had died fighting an unknown Imperial Prime. He itched to avenge his... if not subordinate, his brawling buddy, which was almost as good. But that said, "Imperial Prime with blue eyes and black hair" wasn't actually all that descriptive.

He had visited the abandoned street where the two of them fought, and simply stood in awe at the destruction. Buildings destroyed, craters deeper than a foot dug into the ground. Scorched spaces and ripped-up walls. He found the imprint of Might's body forced into concrete, and saw evidence that Might had kept going for quite a while after that.

The superhero had been holding back, San Yi realized. None of the orcs who died in their raid had been ones who had been taken down by Might. Might never left corpses in his wake, except the innocent victims he was fighting to avenge. But this...

Might had been trying to kill this Imperial Prime, whoever he was. What had this bastard done, that was worth Might breaking his no-killing rule? Either that, or perhaps he was just so powerful that Might could go all-out without fearing that his opponent would die in the process. Whatever it was, it wasn't an opponent San Yi thought it would be smart to fight.

When he returned to his base, he threw himself into his work, trying to distract himself from the frustration. The rebuilding of the Mantis dojo was in progress, but the streets were in chaos more than ever. The Westside alliance, the maniacs, had declared open war against the Empire. Ding Wu, in particular, had been hit hard. His Flip habit was hard to indulge when the Hufflepunks had vanished from their usual plots. Beside that, Ding had been on good terms with the Westside, and was genuinely saddened by the death of Princess Hellstab. San Yi could sympathize, at the very least. It wasn't like he had anything against the Deathblades in particular, and it was a sad thing in general, the death of a child.

But the bounty was going too far in his opinion. 100 OM to every Imperial Prime? It would bleed the coffers of the Westside dry, and it made the cops mad. It made the Empire mad, and that was bad for everyone.

San Yi looked over an expansive map of the massive Tier Five. A pin, with the Flower painted on it, had been poked into each dojo in the city.
They had almost every gym, dojo, school, and training center in Tier Five under their control. The few the didn't still had their protection and symbol, at the very least, even if they didn't keep safehouses for members, and didn't hide drugs for them.

There was only one that didn't.

It was a martial arts school in the heart of the Westside's territory, the first point against it. The second point was that what it taught wasn't an art that had ever been taught on Earth- although there were rumors that this particular school also taught Tai-Chi briefly. The Floating Lotus Posse didn't discriminate, exactly, they allowed non-human members, and even fought to the death for their sake- their vengeance for Master Mantis was proof of it. But on the whole, the members were mostly human and mostly Asian. The regulars at this dojo- well, they weren't.

The Mighty Bat'leth Dojo. It was a hotspot for Klingons all over the Westside. They trained in the art of dueling with the savage-looking blades, and also served as training camps for the Mighty Westside Klingons.

Koloth the Mighty and his Mighty Westside Klingons were known throughout Tier Five as people to stay away from. They were mostly legitimate, not pushing drugs, no kidnapping, no sponsored prostitutes- but then again, Klingon prostitutes tended not to be popular with non-klingons. It wasn't that Klingons were unattractive, it more had to do with the fact that you had to pay triple for the "No Permanent Scars Guarantee".

What the Mighty Westside Klingons were was not your typical gang. They were closer to Yakuza, community planners and protectors; offering bodyguard service, bounty hunting, and mercenary work. They acted very much like the Lotus, working hard to guarantee the safety of the neighborhoods around their headquarters. They had an ethic that San Yi respected. It was such a shame they tied themselves to the Westside and their loose cannon leadership.

In truth, San Yi had given up on recruiting the Bat'leth Dojo long ago. It didn't fit the Lotus aesthetic, and seemed too much trouble for its worth. But after causing that mess with Skullcleaner's Southsyd Ork Warryorz he had been counting on All Might's support. The Orc Mafia would likely be putting the Floating Lotus Posse on their shit-list soon, and San Yi had been okay with that, with Might as his Ace-in-the-hole. But now that the Prime was gone and might not be coming back for a while, San Yi was feeling less confident. They needed more people. A lot more people, and not just rookies, dangerous, strong, disciplined fighters. People who would do well by the Lotus name.

People like the Mighty Klingons.

Luci had cowed them into joining, hadn't she? It was practically legend, on the streets nowadays. "Westside: Join or Die" could have been the gang's motto. And she had numbers, and weapons, and equipment, and she herself was a slippery bitch. He could understand how she had pressured them into joining. But the Floating Lotus Posse was more Koloth's style, weren't they? San Yi hoped, from one master of martial arts and as fellow men trying to uphold honor on these streets, that the Klingon might be open to their deal. And it wasn't as if the Mighty Klingons had a probelm with fighting orcs. Koloth had been at war with the orc mafia since before he joined the Westside.

San Yi pulled a Lotus pin, and stuck it into the map, right above the Bat'leth Dojo.

"Oh, Ding Wu?" San Yi called.

"Yeah boss?" the Chinese time manipulator asked, entering San Yi's office.

"How about you and I  go pay the Mighty Klingons a visit?"

"You think they might have any Flip?" Ding asked, very interested.

"They might." San Yi said in reply, "Are you ready for a fight?"

"Sure, boss." Ding Wu said with a smile, "How many men we bring with?"

"None. Just us... but be sure to give Akane a call, and tell her to send one of her watchmen our way, just in case we need reinforcements."

"Will do." Ding Wu made to leave the room, but he stopped just outside the doorway, "Uh boss?"

"Yes?"

"Bat'leth is martial arts, right?"

"We'll see." San Yi said cryptically.

"Um. Alright then."

A beam of light glints off the tip of a Bat’leth in a dojo in Tier-5.

The Bat'leth, or Sword of Honor, is the deadliest weapon in the Klingon arsenal. It is a curved bilateral sword held with both hands, with a hilt behind either end. This Bat’leth measures tip-to-tip 116 centimeters, weighs five point three kilograms, and has an exterior hand gripping diameter of five centimeters with blades of composite baakonite.

This is Kolgoth’s sword.

Kolgoth the Mighty, President of the Mighty Westside Klingons, hefts his Bat’leth in his right hand, and breathes in through his nose.

In front of him, thirty Mighty Westside Klingons heft their Bat’leths and breath in through their noses. For the first time in a year, the Klingons have stopped tai-chi training and have picked up their swords of honor again.

The air in the dojo is crisp and cool, the overhead lights bright and full.

Kolgoth pauses for a moment, his sword raised, surveying his pupils.They are a stern bunch, mostly Klingon, with only a few human warriors that have gained the respect of the bizzare and martial alien gang. Like Kolgoth, most of them are much older than their Westside comrades, and like Kolgoth many of them do not make their living through illegal means.

Kolgoth is a bail bondsman, employing several members of his gang as bounty hunters, while also being able to bail out Westsiders on a moment’s notice. He notices that Birack the Destroyer, who owns a construction company and employees many Klingons as well, is holding his elbow too high.

Kolgoth taps Birack’s elbow lightly to correct him, and Birack stares straight ahead sternly.

Kolgoth walks among the group, making small adjustments to their forms, and returns to the front of the class.

He brings the tip of the Bat’leth down in a sweeping motion in front of his chest, the exact same motion he has been teaching his gang every day in their tai-chi classes for the last year.

With martial perfection, the Mighty Westside Klingons bring the tips of their Bat’leths down in a sweeping motion in front of their chests.

Kolgoth nods.

***

The Westside Knife Ear Warriors are speeding down Hover Avenue.

Several of the elven gangsters are riding blood red sport motorcycles, zipping wildly through the streets and sidewalks, swerving back and forth in the street. They are called Night-Elves they have dark purple skin and glowing blue eyes. They are dressed all in black, and have swords strapped to their backs, and many have sidearms as well. Double scimitars seem to be popular.

They follow the imposing warrior Lieutenant Bloodstain, who rides at the front of the pack, her hair whipping in the breeze. Her sword is exotic, as long as a greatsword but with a curve like a scimitar. Her glowing blue eyes meet Chi-Owo’s.

Chi-Owo glares defiantly back. The orange-skinned half-chinese Twi’lek girl is still riding the Harley-Davidson she stole from an orc. That she killed. The teenage lab assistant from Tier-1 feels no fear as she stares down the legendary warrior.

There is a red light, but Chi and Bloodstain drive through it. They stop on the other side of the intersection as a tie-dye VW microbus pulls up to the light. The Night-Elves form a loose perimeter around the bus, scanning the rooftops and side streets for police and enemies.

The driver of the VW bus is Sunshine, First Lieutenant of the Westside Knife Ear Warriors. The perky blonde elf is grinning and waving stupidly at Bloodstain while she waits for the red light. She honks her horn and leans out the window to yell at Bloodstain.

“What do your elven eyes see?” Sunshine calls over the popping of the VW exhaust.

“A bimbo with overplucked eyebrows!” calls back Bloodstain.

Sunshine giggles. “Then my disguise is working! Can you see into the back?”

Bloodstain squints. “No,” she confirms.

Sunshine nods, and looks into the back of her magical VW bus. Behind a tie-dye curtain, nearly a dozen Knife Ear snipers crouch silently, armed and anxious. The elves are clutching powers or lasers or high-powered rifles, their faces are cold and calm, their ivory skin glowing in the artificial moonlight of Tier-5 streaming in through the windows of the VW.

The light turns green, and Sunshine’s magic bus pulls through the deserted intersection.

The convoy stops again when they reach a water tower. Two of the snipers depart from the van and climb up into the tower, but the convoy is gone before the hit the ladder.

They stop again at the Flockton Train Platform, and a few more elves pile out of the back of the microbus, these ones with shotguns and rifles. A few of the night elves go with them as they rush up the steps to the platform.

The microbus makes a few more stops and troop deployments at seemingly innocuous locations; an abandoned building, a liquor store, a freeway offramp. While they might seem random, they are chosen for their strategic advantage in the surreal urban combat zone of T5.

Luci’s orders are vague, but Sunshine and Bloodstain are veterans.

When Luci says ‘secure the Westside’, they know what to do.

***