01-13-2018, 05:19 PM
Three days had passed since their training had begun and already some of the would-be gangsters were showing promise. Not many of them, admittedly, but 'some' would do for now. By this point they were almost all on board with accepting his help and taking the arms he provided. The only people he wasn't teaching were the very young, the elderly and the infirm.
Oh, and the Slum King himself, of course. He had provided his 'King' with weapons, yes, but as Bernie had not wanted to be shown up by anyone, he had opted not to attend any practice sessions... which was by no means something that Hijiri was upset about; he was sure that the King would have just gotten real upset and insecure once he realised how much influence the Battle Rabbit now held over his gang's members. Part of this was due to intimidation; aside from not resorting to breaking limbs to get his point across, he was being almost as strict with this lot as he had been with his stormtroopers previously. Beyond that, though, they seemed to look up to him a lot... perhaps adore him, even... it seemed like saving a person and their entire family from a life of malnourishment and misery inspired gratitude, or something. Who'd have guessed?
And if all went as planned today, they would likely be even more loyal. It shouldn't be much of a challenge, in theory. Nothing more than a few security guards ought to stand in their way, and with all the firepower his gang had now, they would more than likely surrender immediately.
“You all ready?” he rasped, casting his gaze across the assembled mob. They may have been more competent individually than they had been before, but thus far he had not been able to spare the time to focus at all on discipline or group tactics, which meant that in equal numbers, this lot would still be decimated by any half-decent stormtrooper squad. Luckily, they weren't intending on picking any fights with the Empire.
An assenting chorus of responses answered his question enthusiastically and he nodded back at them, unfolding his arms, which had been crossed over his chest, then gesturing with his left hand, in which he held his sheathed sword, towards the enormous, steel-plated monstrosity of a truck behind him.
It had cost a small fortune in OM, but alas, even with a beast like this, there still wasn't enough room to fit the whole gang inside; although it was only being used to transport a few dozen of them today, he had originally wanted the armoured vehicle in case the whole lot of them ever needed to make a quick getaway, such as if the Wolfpack or Pyros attacked them en masse, as unlikely as that was. Gang wars generally consisted of numerous smaller brawls and gunfights – according to his research on the Dataverse – rather than single, massive assaults.
Of course, the fact that it couldn't even fit half of them would pose quite the problem, should such an event actually occur. At some point, he'd really have to summon more trucks. In the mean time, though, this one would be plenty to fit the forty-odd goons he had gathered here. As near as he could determine, this bunch seemed like they were the best of the sorry lot he had found himself with.
“Come on.” he said, before turning to hop lightly up to the vehicle's driver-side door. A few moments after he had gotten in, Alejandro slipped into the passenger side. The rest of them heading round and into the semi-trailer on the back. Hopefully they'd have a pretty gentle ride, as there were no seats in the cargo area; if he had to swerve around a lot, or worse, if some idiot crashed into them, then they'd all be flung around like leaves in a storm.
He turned the key in the ignition and in moments they were off, their progress surprisingly swift through these almost barren streets; unlike most of Tier Five (including the area he had been stationed before going AWOL), this section of the tier was poor enough that there were very few people with even the cheapest of cars... so the enormous eighteen-wheeler with its silvery, stainless-steel armour plating sure stuck out like a sore thumb. He noticed many pedestrians looking across at them as they drove past. Good.
Aside from being a decent means of getting a bunch of them away in a hurry if the situation called for it, the vehicle also attracted a lot of attention... which would hopefully help get their gang recognised, especially in a rundown area like this. That, along with the steps they planned to take in securing the territory they would be claiming over the course of the next few days, would be big points in their favour, hopefully. There were points against them too, though; the fact that they all lived in slums certainly wasn't much of a testament to their power, and the name Bernie had chosen for them – the Northside Small Fries – didn't exactly inspire fear either.
Still, hopefully after a few profitable 'escapades' in and around the area they were already pre-emptively calling their own, he would have gathered enough Omnilium to feel justified in telling the gang that he could afford to summon a proper Base for them, without giving away just how absurdly wealthy he was right now... unlike most Primes, he had been for the most part purposefully saving his Omnilium thus far, rather than trying to reawaken as many of the abilities that Omni had taken from him as he possibly could. It made him weaker than many people would expect of a Prime, but it left him with plenty of 'cash' to spare if he ever needed a vehicle such as this, a massive pile of guns and swords for his followers, a whole banquet's worth of food... or even a new house. Not that he was boasting about that. He was still pretending to be a fairly new Prime, after all, so he had to pretend to have at least semi-realistic limits to how much he could spend at any given time.
***
It wasn't all that long before they reached their destination. The traffic had been low, no one had started shooting at them as they passed, and now here they were, pulling up in the street just outside a large yet squat, ugly building, as the three-man security team outside glared their way suspiciously.
They were right to be concerned, of course. No sooner had the eight-wheeler drawn to a standstill than the rear doors leading into the semi-trailer on the back burst open, followed a second later by the front doors in the cab as well.
Hijiri and Alejandro were down in moments, the olive-skinned man clutching his pistol tightly in one hand whilst grasping the hilt of his scabbarded katana with the other, whereas the Battle Rabbit was much more casual about the situation; not yet having pulled out his gun and holding his blade by its sheathe, making no attempt at preparing himself to fight.
The guards looked terrified as they advanced, hurriedly drawing and aiming their own pistols. His foremost supporter glanced worriedly at Hijiri out of the corners of his eyes, clearly not at all comfortable with walking directly towards the barrels of three loaded guns. When the Rabbit showed no sign of fear, though, he kept walking. Hijiri was actually pretty impressed by him. The gangster wasn't a Prime, like he was, and so had much more to fear from death, whilst also being a far less effective fighter. There wouldn't be a whole lot he could do if they opened fire.
“Drop your weapons.” Hijiri told them, hoarsely, he and his companion coming to a halt just a few metres from their position by the building's front entrance.
“Wh-who are you?” the man standing between the other two guards asked fearfully, as he and his comrades swung their weapons about, trying to cover everyone as the unruly mob came up behind the first pair and spread out to the sides a bit, so that they could all get a better view of their foes.
The Rabbit nodded to Alejandro, who licked his lips nervously before speaking, “This is Hoarse, Head Chef and Training Instructor of the Northside Small Fries. He's a Prime, and he's helping us put our gang on the map. After hearing his advice, our boss, the Slum King, agreed that the first places we target when claiming territory should be the sweatshops that many of us worked in before Hoarse came along to save us from that shit... so we're tearing this place down and stealing everything inside. Fight back and you'll die. Run and you'll live.”
The security team looked at each other, at the dozens of armed men and women standing before them, and down at the pistols they held.
It wasn't entirely clear which of them made the decision first, but after a single moment of hesitation all three dropped their guns and had sprinted off within a second of one another.
They'd had no cover in their position and they'd been facing odds greater than ten to one. They never would have stood a chance even if their opponents hadn't had a Prime leading their horde. It was no surprise that they valued their own lives more than the no-doubt poor pay of whomever owned this cheap-ass factory.
If the rest of the security personnel – those ones on the inside of the building – proved just as compliant then this should all go quickly and smoothly, without a single casualty.
Without a hint of fear (respawning a week after death sure was convenient), Hijiri approached the narrow door, turned the knob and swung it open. The corridor beyond was empty; the workers were doubtless all busy in the main hall, the guards watching them closely.
“Let's go.” he told his assembled force, and they surged forwards, many with grins on their faces. As far as confidence boosters went, he imagined that seeing three buff, gun-toting security men turn and run from you like scared children must be a pretty good one... at least, to these people... for those who had never faced the same sorts of supernatural enemies he had known back in his original world, tough guys like that must seem like actual, credible threats, he assumed.
Oh, and the Slum King himself, of course. He had provided his 'King' with weapons, yes, but as Bernie had not wanted to be shown up by anyone, he had opted not to attend any practice sessions... which was by no means something that Hijiri was upset about; he was sure that the King would have just gotten real upset and insecure once he realised how much influence the Battle Rabbit now held over his gang's members. Part of this was due to intimidation; aside from not resorting to breaking limbs to get his point across, he was being almost as strict with this lot as he had been with his stormtroopers previously. Beyond that, though, they seemed to look up to him a lot... perhaps adore him, even... it seemed like saving a person and their entire family from a life of malnourishment and misery inspired gratitude, or something. Who'd have guessed?
And if all went as planned today, they would likely be even more loyal. It shouldn't be much of a challenge, in theory. Nothing more than a few security guards ought to stand in their way, and with all the firepower his gang had now, they would more than likely surrender immediately.
“You all ready?” he rasped, casting his gaze across the assembled mob. They may have been more competent individually than they had been before, but thus far he had not been able to spare the time to focus at all on discipline or group tactics, which meant that in equal numbers, this lot would still be decimated by any half-decent stormtrooper squad. Luckily, they weren't intending on picking any fights with the Empire.
An assenting chorus of responses answered his question enthusiastically and he nodded back at them, unfolding his arms, which had been crossed over his chest, then gesturing with his left hand, in which he held his sheathed sword, towards the enormous, steel-plated monstrosity of a truck behind him.
It had cost a small fortune in OM, but alas, even with a beast like this, there still wasn't enough room to fit the whole gang inside; although it was only being used to transport a few dozen of them today, he had originally wanted the armoured vehicle in case the whole lot of them ever needed to make a quick getaway, such as if the Wolfpack or Pyros attacked them en masse, as unlikely as that was. Gang wars generally consisted of numerous smaller brawls and gunfights – according to his research on the Dataverse – rather than single, massive assaults.
Of course, the fact that it couldn't even fit half of them would pose quite the problem, should such an event actually occur. At some point, he'd really have to summon more trucks. In the mean time, though, this one would be plenty to fit the forty-odd goons he had gathered here. As near as he could determine, this bunch seemed like they were the best of the sorry lot he had found himself with.
“Come on.” he said, before turning to hop lightly up to the vehicle's driver-side door. A few moments after he had gotten in, Alejandro slipped into the passenger side. The rest of them heading round and into the semi-trailer on the back. Hopefully they'd have a pretty gentle ride, as there were no seats in the cargo area; if he had to swerve around a lot, or worse, if some idiot crashed into them, then they'd all be flung around like leaves in a storm.
He turned the key in the ignition and in moments they were off, their progress surprisingly swift through these almost barren streets; unlike most of Tier Five (including the area he had been stationed before going AWOL), this section of the tier was poor enough that there were very few people with even the cheapest of cars... so the enormous eighteen-wheeler with its silvery, stainless-steel armour plating sure stuck out like a sore thumb. He noticed many pedestrians looking across at them as they drove past. Good.
Aside from being a decent means of getting a bunch of them away in a hurry if the situation called for it, the vehicle also attracted a lot of attention... which would hopefully help get their gang recognised, especially in a rundown area like this. That, along with the steps they planned to take in securing the territory they would be claiming over the course of the next few days, would be big points in their favour, hopefully. There were points against them too, though; the fact that they all lived in slums certainly wasn't much of a testament to their power, and the name Bernie had chosen for them – the Northside Small Fries – didn't exactly inspire fear either.
Still, hopefully after a few profitable 'escapades' in and around the area they were already pre-emptively calling their own, he would have gathered enough Omnilium to feel justified in telling the gang that he could afford to summon a proper Base for them, without giving away just how absurdly wealthy he was right now... unlike most Primes, he had been for the most part purposefully saving his Omnilium thus far, rather than trying to reawaken as many of the abilities that Omni had taken from him as he possibly could. It made him weaker than many people would expect of a Prime, but it left him with plenty of 'cash' to spare if he ever needed a vehicle such as this, a massive pile of guns and swords for his followers, a whole banquet's worth of food... or even a new house. Not that he was boasting about that. He was still pretending to be a fairly new Prime, after all, so he had to pretend to have at least semi-realistic limits to how much he could spend at any given time.
***
It wasn't all that long before they reached their destination. The traffic had been low, no one had started shooting at them as they passed, and now here they were, pulling up in the street just outside a large yet squat, ugly building, as the three-man security team outside glared their way suspiciously.
They were right to be concerned, of course. No sooner had the eight-wheeler drawn to a standstill than the rear doors leading into the semi-trailer on the back burst open, followed a second later by the front doors in the cab as well.
Hijiri and Alejandro were down in moments, the olive-skinned man clutching his pistol tightly in one hand whilst grasping the hilt of his scabbarded katana with the other, whereas the Battle Rabbit was much more casual about the situation; not yet having pulled out his gun and holding his blade by its sheathe, making no attempt at preparing himself to fight.
The guards looked terrified as they advanced, hurriedly drawing and aiming their own pistols. His foremost supporter glanced worriedly at Hijiri out of the corners of his eyes, clearly not at all comfortable with walking directly towards the barrels of three loaded guns. When the Rabbit showed no sign of fear, though, he kept walking. Hijiri was actually pretty impressed by him. The gangster wasn't a Prime, like he was, and so had much more to fear from death, whilst also being a far less effective fighter. There wouldn't be a whole lot he could do if they opened fire.
“Drop your weapons.” Hijiri told them, hoarsely, he and his companion coming to a halt just a few metres from their position by the building's front entrance.
“Wh-who are you?” the man standing between the other two guards asked fearfully, as he and his comrades swung their weapons about, trying to cover everyone as the unruly mob came up behind the first pair and spread out to the sides a bit, so that they could all get a better view of their foes.
The Rabbit nodded to Alejandro, who licked his lips nervously before speaking, “This is Hoarse, Head Chef and Training Instructor of the Northside Small Fries. He's a Prime, and he's helping us put our gang on the map. After hearing his advice, our boss, the Slum King, agreed that the first places we target when claiming territory should be the sweatshops that many of us worked in before Hoarse came along to save us from that shit... so we're tearing this place down and stealing everything inside. Fight back and you'll die. Run and you'll live.”
The security team looked at each other, at the dozens of armed men and women standing before them, and down at the pistols they held.
It wasn't entirely clear which of them made the decision first, but after a single moment of hesitation all three dropped their guns and had sprinted off within a second of one another.
They'd had no cover in their position and they'd been facing odds greater than ten to one. They never would have stood a chance even if their opponents hadn't had a Prime leading their horde. It was no surprise that they valued their own lives more than the no-doubt poor pay of whomever owned this cheap-ass factory.
If the rest of the security personnel – those ones on the inside of the building – proved just as compliant then this should all go quickly and smoothly, without a single casualty.
Without a hint of fear (respawning a week after death sure was convenient), Hijiri approached the narrow door, turned the knob and swung it open. The corridor beyond was empty; the workers were doubtless all busy in the main hall, the guards watching them closely.
“Let's go.” he told his assembled force, and they surged forwards, many with grins on their faces. As far as confidence boosters went, he imagined that seeing three buff, gun-toting security men turn and run from you like scared children must be a pretty good one... at least, to these people... for those who had never faced the same sorts of supernatural enemies he had known back in his original world, tough guys like that must seem like actual, credible threats, he assumed.
![[Image: Hijiri_Name_Sig.png]](https://image.ibb.co/k1H7Hd/Hijiri_Name_Sig.png)