03-17-2018, 08:52 PM
On that first day, he had levelled a building… albeit, tediously slowly, and in a manner in which any Prime in the Omniverse could have duplicated, no matter how weak they may have been.
So it might not have been the most impressive display of raw might, but it was nevertheless sure to catch someone’s notice.
Or so he had thought.
The mood was cautiously celebratory when they returned to the three tenement blocks that currently served as their base of operations. Still, there was a tinge of nervousness in the air. The two main gangs in the area were both far more powerful than they. If either the Pyros or the Wolfpack marshalled all their forces, Bernie King’s so-called ‘Northside Small Fries’ would without doubt be crushed underfoot, even with all the nice new weapons ‘Hoarse’ had given them.
No one voiced these fears to Hijiri, though. In fact, no one even considered them when he was in the vicinity. His apparent complete lack of concern for the threat put them all at ease.
Of course, the Battle Rabbit knew full well that they couldn’t win against an entire rival gang. The reason for his relaxed attitude was simply that it took a lot to motivate a whole gang to mobilise at speed. One little, barely profitable sweatshop wasn’t going to do it. Someone might send a pack of goons around to investigate, but no one they couldn’t deal with or chase off.
For the time being, they still had some leeway. He trained his gangsters a little more that afternoon – taking the building hadn’t required the whole day, after all – and then in the evening, spent a while summoning another huge, armoured eighteen-wheeler, which he left parked beside the first.
That night, especially after Hijiri had fallen asleep, many eyes watched warily for strangers in the dark. If anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary, though, they must have managed to reason it away as being a coincidence or just their imagination, for no one raised an alarm and roused their fellows from their slumber.
That was day one of their little four-step plan. There was no official name for it, as the Rabbit was too busy pretending he hated to speak to spare any words for witty monikers. That said, ‘Operation: Fuck Up Those Sweatshop Pricks’ had become pretty popular.
On the second day, after a hearty breakfast courtesy of Hijiri and his seemingly limitless supply of Omnilium, they went out and did the same thing they had the day before. It seemed these guys had heard about the previous attack, though, and chose to hire some extra grunts to watch their building. They knew what to expect, and they fought back.
Or they thought they knew what to expect, rather. They weren't able to do a thing when Hijiri unleashed his True Form against them, though, and they couldn't comprehend how his crew could remain so steadfast when their friends and family were gunned down all around them.
An impressive showing or not, though, they still lost several people in that fight, and over a dozen more were injured. They didn't let the guards run off this time. They were slain, to a man. This would send a message, the Battle Rabbit told his people. If any security personnel fought back when caught up in one of their assaults from now on, they would know to expect no mercy. It should hopefully convince other guards not to oppose them in future.
Hijiri deconstructed and absorbed the entire building, just as he had done to the last one, and they headed back once again, much more sombre now than the previous day. Once home those who felt up to it did some training… without the Rabbit to help them. Hijiri spent the entire rest of the day using Omnilium accelerate the healing of their injured as best he could.
On their third outing, things went better. The guards dropped their weapons and calmly filed out of the building as soon as they showed up. Their leader spoke briefly to Hijiri and Alejandro, for just long enough to tell them that they weren't being paid enough to throw their lives away. They'd heard the rumours, the man said, and knew that the hooded guy was without doubt a Prime.
When they returned from taking that building, those new recruits who’d agreed to join the burgeoning gang in tow, they were back to feeling pleased with themselves. They trained some more, then the Rabbit created another truck. By this point, though, he was beginning to feel a little concerned.
No one from any other gang had shown up to investigate the situation with the vanishing buildings. Even if it had only been three days now, the frequency of their attacks ought to really have merited some response.
The Northside Pyros he might be able to write off as having thrown some massive party, as was their habit, according to the word on the street... so perhaps they were all still nursing hangovers… or, hell, maybe their schools were just in an exam season, or something, so they were taking a break from the thug life for a bit. They were still just a bunch of teens, after all.
But the NSW? Two of the sweatshops they’d hit were in the Wolfpack’s domain, and that lot ought to be efficient enough to take notice when others started going after their turf. It concerned him that he hadn’t heard anything about them, recently. Could it be that they actually were mobilising their entire force, but doing it slowly and quietly, so as to give nothing away? If so, they could show up at any moment, taking them all completely by surprise. They wouldn’t stand a sliver of a chance in such a situation.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, one way or another, so he saw no reason to brood over it. If they did show up then everyone here would die, himself included… but being a Prime, he would simply return to life, after which he could either choose to start this experiment over, or rejoin the squad.
It would be unfortunate, of course, as he was beginning to grow a little attached to this bunch, despite his best attempts at maintaining his distance… but he could take it, if the worst happened and he lost them.
On the fourth day of their miniature campaign, the guards were waiting outside for them when they arrived. Their leader gave him a nod and they all climbed into a couple small vans by the roadside and drove off. Alejandro gave his spiel once again, whilst the Rabbit slowly deconstructed the final building.
Upon returning to the tenements, the Slum King ordered a massive party thrown for their ‘conquering heroes’, complete with banquet tables out in the courtyard and barrel upon barrel upon barrel of alcohol. Which was ever so generous of him, given that Hijiri’s Omnilium was what he was relying on to fund all of this extravagance.
Still, everyone seemed keen on the idea, so the Prime went along with it. It wasn’t like he had any shortage of the stuff, not after weeks of collecting it whilst working for the Empire, followed by these latest acquisitions.
The rest of them enjoyed themselves, whilst he stood apart… or sought to, at least, trying his best to act like the sort of edgy loner he had intended to make this persona out to be. Alejandro wouldn’t hear of it, though. He – along with a close-knit group of his friends, who had become the most ardent supporters of ‘Hoarse’ amongst the gang’s members – insisted on hanging around him as much as possible.
Hijiri didn’t get the impression that they were ass-kissing, though. They seemed perfectly content to act all stoic and serious, mimicking his own attitude, not even partaking of any alcohol. It seemed as though they were taking their self-imposed duties with the utmost seriousness. It was quite a change from when he had met the Spaniard and his lot outside the slums, when he had first shown up here. Rather than a bat-wielding imbecile, that man seemed now more like some sort of professional killer. His gaze was predatory as he glanced around at the raucous crowd, on the watch for... assassins, presumably, though why any gang would feel the need to bother with such tactics when faced with foes as feeble as these 'Small Fries', the Rabbit wasn't sure.
The Prime was impressed by their progress, he had to admit. They were still a shoddily-dressed bunch, of course, but that was something that could be worked on in future, if they so desired. For the time being, essentials were more important than fancy clothes… well, essentials and huge banquets, apparently.
Much later in the evening than he had in previous days, Hijiri got to work on summoning another eighteen-wheeled truck for their collection, identical in every way to the previous three. This should be the last, for the time being. With these four, they ought to have enough space to more-or-less comfortably fit the entire crew, if need be, all those who’d been brought on board from the sweatshops included. He could always make more at a later date, he supposed. Even after buying all of this, he still had plenty of Omnilium left, and as long as they continued to… deconstruct, the properties of anyone under the dubious ‘protection’ of Northside’s other gangs, that wasn’t about to change.
Not until someone finally got pissed off enough to show up and slaughter them all, at least.
Minor potential problems such as that aside, though, Hijiri was actually feeling pretty good about how things were going, right then. They’d taken out all four of the businesses in which their buildings’ residents had slaved away, so with that symbolic victory out of the way, they could now move on to bigger, more lucrative targets.
Even if he was to keep up the act of still being a newly summoned Prime, it wouldn’t be long now until the Rabbit could conceivably get away with summoning his people a new base. Something a lot sturdier than these three wrecks. When that happened, they’d at least have some small chance at resisting if not an entire rival gang then at least a goodly portion of one.
It was with pleasant thoughts such as this in his mind that the Battle Rabbit fell asleep that night, fully intent on taking a lazy day tomorrow and sleeping until at least the early afternoon.
It was 5:37am when he was woken by Alejandro.
“You should see this, boss.” the man didn’t seem worried, so it likely wasn’t an imminent threat, which was good… still, he wouldn’t have barged in here if it wasn’t important, so Hijiri – who had swapped out his usual coat and trousers for a hoodie and a pair of tracksuit bottoms whilst he slept (gotta keep that identity concealed, after all) – was up in a moment. He didn’t even take the time to correct his supporter’s use of the word ‘boss’; for the time being, it still suited him just fine to have the ‘Slum King’ thinking he ruled the roost here, so he had been trying to get that guy and his little band to quit with that. This likely wasn’t the best time for it, though.
“Yes?” he kept his voice hoarse and his response brief, staying in character. Alejandro held out a phone with a video playing on its screen, and hit a button to turn the sound back on.
The first thing he noticed about it was the time of day. Despite being well and truly familiar with the temporal oddities of Omniphyisics by now, he still found it jarring to see what was supposedly a live broadcast which looked to be taking place in mid-afternoon, despite it still being the early hours of the morning where he was, just several miles or so away from the location of the feed.
They were outside a store of some sort. Talking about slaughtering stormtroopers. He calmly watched the video to the end of the interview, then told the Spaniard to skip back to the start, which he did. Hijiri watched it a second time. It was no more pleasant than it had been in the first instance.
“Are you okay, boss?” his ally placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was only then that the Battle Rabbit realised he was shaking. With grief? With anger? With fear?
No. Not the latter, in any case. Of that he could be certain. The weight of this loss settled in his gut like a burning coal. After the fight with Shotgun Steve, he had barely given thought to the others’ safety when he left. It wasn’t until later, a couple days later, in fact, that he had finally checked up on them on the Dataverse. They seemed to be doing fine. Recruiting had been going well. He had thought the threat was passed, that the Wolfpack would learn their lesson from having failed the first time, that the presence of Sarah Watt would be enough.
Instead, the lesson they had learned seemed to be ‘if hitting them doesn’t work the first time, just hit harder the second’. That had done the job. Which meant it was all over. Kroll’s fancy little plan for securing Northside had fallen flat. They were all dead, and the message that other stormtrooper squads in the area would take from this would be that by doing as they had and showing any form of independence – and thereby incurring the displeasure of their superiors – they would be signing their own death warrants.
Given how unpopular their unsanctioned recruitment scheme had been on the upper tiers, the Battle Rabbit was sure that there would be no shortage of officials who were privately pleased to have one less headache to deal with… even if the cost of that headache’s removal had been the lives of dozens of loyal soldiers. He had no doubt that no Imperial response would be incoming. They had made it clear enough already that they didn’t give one single, solitary shit about Tier Five, after all.
He should have stayed with the squad, in spite of any personal disagreements, at least until that lot had been taken care of. It was too late now, though…
“Uh, boss? Hello?”
“... Ah, fuck it.” he couldn’t be bothered. Not any more. Knowing that it was probably a terrible idea but not being able to summon up the willpower to force himself to continue with this act, Hijiri yanked down the hood he wore and tore the old bandages from his face. His voice was perfectly clear when he spoke, a far cry from the whispery, rasping tones they had only ever heard up to now from him, “Alejandro, listen to me. I am not a new Prime, and my name certainly isn't ‘Hoarse’. Up until I joined your crew, I was a member of theirs.”
He nodded towards the phone, which his supporter was still holding in plain sight. Alejandro glanced down at it, and an instant later, something akin to sudden understanding flashed across his features, “The Wolfpack. You got in an argument with the other leaders so you stole as much Omnilium as you could, then left to go start your own rival gang? Is that how you were able to so easily supply us with all that stuff? The weapons and food and things?”
“Good guess, but no. Not the Northside Wolfpack. I was in with the people they just murdered. I am, in fact, a corporal of the EPD.”
The Spaniard took a couple steps back, his expression horror-stricken, his tone hurt, “You’re with them?”
“Well, I was, I suppose I should say. It’s not like I’ve got any reason to go back now.” if Alejandro noticed the bitterness in his voice – which he surely must have done, as the Rabbit made no effort whatsoever to conceal it – he gave no sign of it. In fact, his mood swung faster than the Prime would have thought possible.
“So you’re staying here, then? With m- us?”
Hijiri eyed him suspiciously. That hopeful expression seemed entirely out of place considering the Battle Rabbit had just admitted to having been lying to him ever since they met… but fine. He wasn’t about to question it now. He had more important concerns.
“Yes. Not just staying, though. I’m going to make those bastards pay for what they’ve done, and everyone in this gang is going to help me, whether they like it or not.” his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and he glared straight ahead, barely seeing Alejandro before him. He’d need to calm himself soon. He wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything if he couldn’t even tame his own emotions. For the time being, though, he allowed himself the luxury of feeling.
Despite the dark look on Hijiri’s face and the coldness of his tone, the other man seemed positively excited by these words, “Great! Well, I'm with you all the way! What do we do first, boss?”
“Boss, huh?” the Rabbit mused softly, “Yes, I suppose that should be the thing to come first. Go round up anyone you think you can convince to side with me despite my… prior allegiance. Meet me back here in ten minutes or so. Then we’ll go pay our ‘King’ a little visit to discuss a slight change in leadership.”
“Yes, sir!” the skinhead’s exuberance was not contagious. Hijiri glowered after him as he sped out of the shabby little excuse for a room. It was pretty damn apparent that Alejandro – and probably the rest of his little band of supporters as well – had been hoping for him to take the reins of this gang sooner or later, and was all too pleased to see that happening now… even if it was likely a little earlier than expected… and if the reason was because every other person he had befriended since coming to Coruscant had just been brutally murdered.
Sighing, he shook his head, disregarding those thoughts. He’d need the gang with him for this… well, he could do with them, at least… this would be easier, with their help. A little… probably. They were no longer complete amateurs, at least. So he would be best not to pick fights with anyone who seemed too happy right now. Hell, he should probably be pleased by it.
Before Alejandro returned, the Rabbit summoned himself some new clothes and put those on. It felt good to be dressed more professionally, once again. He’d been getting tired of walking around with a hood up at all times, not to mention having to keep his face hidden. He now wore a ‘simple’ black suit with a white shirt. ‘Simple’ in quotes, because despite what a first glance might reveal, it was actually anything but. Everything he wore now was about as expensive as clothing could be. Just like the good old days, back home, before the Omniverse had swallowed him up.
It was a waste, he knew. There was no need to spend so much on mere fashion… but what the hell. If all went as intended, he’d be broadcasting his image all over Tier Five before the day was done, so he might as well look his best.
When the others showed up – and he saw that his supporter had indeed brought along the entire group who had been so keen on hanging around him the previous night – they seemed duly impressed by his fine clothes… or perhaps that was just the shock of seeing his face for once.
Either way, they were on board with the plan, and that was what mattered. The Slum King’s apartment was just down a short hallway from Hijiri’s, so it was hardly a lengthy journey. Once there, they burst in with no warning and hauled him out of bed, whilst he was dressed in nothing more than a vest and boxers, which left entirely too little to the imagination. Shockingly, he wasn’t so pleased by that.
He also wasn’t too satisfied with their reason for interrupting his rest… or of Hijiri’s sudden desire to take over his crew. Still, he was a fat, unfit, balding slob, surrounded by a small group of armed men and women, one of whom was a Prime.
“Alright, King, that’s the story,” the Battle Rabbit said, after finishing bringing the former gang leader up to speed, “now, you’ve got two choices: a) you can step down with no fuss, encourage everyone else to roll over without complaint, and accept a privileged position in our new… organisation, or; b) you can refuse, force us to drag you out in front of everyone, and beg them to side with you rather than me. It might pan out. It’s not likely, but it’s certainly possible, especially once they all know that I've been lying about my past, and that up until a week ago, I was actively working for the Empire.”
He paused for a moment, to let the impact of his words sink in. Bernie’s eyes narrowed, “So what happens if the gang does choose me?”
The words were probably supposed to come out as a gruff snarl. Instead, they seemed more akin to a whimper… or perhaps a whine, at best.
“If that were to happen, I’d force you all to leave. I’m planning some… abrupt renovations, and I don’t have the time or inclination to go prancing around looking for better spots. I’m taking this building, one way or another, and you know you can’t hope to stop me.”
“Damn it. Damn you!” Bernie actually had tears in his eyes. He was shaking now, just as Hijiri had been not so long before, fists clenched. A couple people snickered, but the Prime silenced them with a glare. For all that this guy might be a useless lump of a man, he had somehow managed to earn the loyalty of these people at one time or another, and many of them could well remain loyal to him… he would be a useful asset in making their change in leadership as smooth as possible. That was important. One thing they could most certainly do without right now were any additional complications.
They waited in silence for a several seconds longer, and then the ‘King’ finally wilted, his shoulders hunching over dejectedly, “Fine. You win. It’s no choice at all, is it?”
“Of course it’s a choice. Just an obvious one, that’s all. I’m glad you made it correctly. Now, before we head out to speak to everyone, I have some things I need to summon, so if you could all just wait a few minutes.” Hijiri held out his arms and a widening, stretching bubble of Omnilium left his body and drifted to the floor. They were clearly somewhat perplexed, but after muttering variations of ‘uh, sure’, they all did as he asked and stood around patiently for the time it took him, which was just shy of ten minutes.
“So… uh, what is all this, then, boss?” one of his assembled allies asked afterwards, staring down at what the Rabbit had just crafted.
“These are for you all, and for everyone else who’s willing to stick around and take orders from me. Our gang currently doesn’t have any identifying symbols or colours. That’s going to change. I’m not about to start forcing people to wear only clothes of the appropriate shade, like the Wolfpack do, but whenever anyone is out and about on gang business, I want them wearing one of these armbands.”
A woman picked one up. They were dark green in colour, with a thin white stripe a centimetre or so inwards from the upper and lower edges. Between those lines, on one side, were the letters ‘TTG’, also in white, “Okay, sure… and what does this mean?”
“It’s an acronym. Back in my original world, I was the head of a corporate empire with numerous unrelated businesses all under my management. Collectively, those companies were referred to as ‘The Takanomiya Group’. Which will now also serve as our gang’s new name.”
“Really?” the woman asked sceptically, though the Rabbit didn’t fail to notice that she still slid the armband on quickly enough, despite her apparent reservations, “You don’t think it seems a bit too… professional for us? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still an improvement over ‘Northside Small Fries’, but, well, look at us. We're not exactly the suit and tie kinda bunch, y'know?”
“It’s supposed to be professional. We’re going to be masquerading as a legitimate company. Trust me, after tonight, a lot of people are going to be taking notice of us, and it would be better for all our sakes if the Empire didn’t have an excuse to send a squad of Space Marines down here to slaughter us.” he might ordinarily have said these words wryly, but in his current mood, he couldn’t manage anything more than a listless monotone.
“Heh. Well, that certainly sounds promising.” she replied, apparently having no more inclination to keep her own good cheer subtle than had Alejandro.
“And the rest of it?” the aforementioned Spaniard asked. There were still two other small piles on the ground, aside from the large mound of armbands.
“This one is for our former Slum King,” he pointed at a horribly clashing heap of silk and fur, “Congratulations, Bernie, you’re now our Treasurer. Get dressed.”
At first hesitant, then with much more enthusiasm once he realised the high quality (and value) of the garish garments given to him, the slob slipped into his perfectly fitting new outfit. A thick, violet, silk robe, with a neon yellow sash of the same fabric tied beneath his prodigious gut like a belt. His shoes were moccasins of red velvet, lined with white ermine fur. In addition, he now wore a cloak of scarlet wool, with a wide collar of the same fur as adorned his shoes. Finally, atop his head, there rested a true crown of gold, rather than just the feeble imitation he had been fond of wearing before.
“Well, how do I look?” Bernie demanded, posing with hands on hips.
“Absurd.” Alejandro answered immediately, “like a clown with far more money than common sense. Was this really necessary?”
This last sentence was directed towards the Battle Rabbit, “This exact getup? No. I could have just had us all wear suits, and it would all have seemed perfectly respectable. Totally acceptable for a business’ directors… but I’d rather we all stand out when we make our debut, and I’m tired of being the one in costume, so you two are getting that questionable honour today. If you want to toss these dumb clothes as soon as we’re done here, I won’t blame either of you.”
“Uh… me too? Then, you mean… this stuff here is for me?” his first ally gestured towards the last and least-interesting looking pile. It was mostly brown.
“Of course. You’re my right-hand man, after all. You didn’t think I’d include King and leave you out, right?” though Hijiri’s tone was still utterly lacking in any sort of emotion, Alejandro never even seemed to take notice. To be fair, compared to the terse snippets of a response that the Rabbit had been prone to giving when using the ‘Hoarse’ alias, this was positively friendly.
“Your right-hand man? Really?” the skinhead’s expression was positively giddy. Someone behind him chuckled softly, and he immediately snapped to attention, suddenly serious, “I mean, of course, I’ll just get changed, sir.”
Showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment, he slipped out of the tracksuit and trainers he had been wearing and donned his new getup in their place. He now wore a boiled leather vest, boiled leather knee-high boots, and regular, unhardened leather trousers, tucked into the boots, with a leather belt. There was a lot of leather, all of it dark brown. Atop that, he wore what looked like an overcoat of chainmail, reaching almost to his ankles, though he left it hanging open. And atop that he put on another overcoat, this one made of more brown leather, and also left hanging open. The bottom of the second coat, along with the ends of the sleeves, didn't quite reach as far as those of the chainmail, leaving it partially visible; making it obvious that this guy was armoured.
He also pulled on a pair of leather gloves and an extra-wide-brimmed hat of a matching colour… though not made from leather, this time. Unlike Bernie’s outfit, and despite being newly summoned, these items all bore the hallmarks of long use. Hijiri was aiming to make his supporter out to be some sort of combat veteran… making his outfit all shiny and new would have ruined that impression entirely. Alejandro either understood this or was just too polite to comment on the fact that his stuff looked second-hand.
“Alright. If you’re all ready now,” Hijiri continued once they had all finished slipping on armbands, “gather up the rest of those things and hand them out to everyone while you explain the situation. Once that’s done, get these slums emptied. I want everyone outside.”
They did as he asked. It went smoothly for the most part, with Bernie doing a surprisingly good job of earning his keep. Heaping him with gifts had certainly been the correct approach. Now, rather than focusing on what he had lost, the slob was instead revelling in his newfound prosperity. Bernie told them all that he had willingly stepped aside, that he had been only too happy to allow Hijiri to take over, in spite of his lies… because of them, even. He told them that the Battle Rabbit had been so desperate to help them, to use his secret hoard of Omnilium to keep them safe – lest he lose them, as he had just lost his friends in the EPD – that he had been unable to will himself to hide his identity any longer, despite the risk that they might all end up judging and hating him for his past associations with the government which couldn’t have cared less about their wellbeing.
It was, the Prime had to admit – if only in the privacy of his own thoughts – a pretty impressive line of bullshit. And they fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Once they were all outside, wearing armbands, and armed with their handguns and swords, he ordered those of them who weren’t too young, elderly or infirm, to spread out through their little neighbourhood, finding any other slum dwellers or squatters in the vicinity and clear them out. He didn’t explain why exactly, and although there was some confusion, they did get to it. Eventually, he was notified that it had been taken care of. Everyone within a 150 metre radius or so of the three tenements had been run out of their homes. They weren’t particularly happy about it, but when confronted with a band of armed men and women wielding katanas and pistols, they had had little choice but to obey.
That done, he held his arms outstretched once again and focused on his next creation. Something far bigger and more ambitious than he had ever attempted before. Excruciatingly slowly, tediously and monotonously, a brightly coloured mass of Omnilium stretched up and outwards. The time taken to summon things in the Omniverse was not simply multiplicative; twice the mass did not equal twice the time, and thank Omni for that. If it had, he couldn’t even have attempted to do this in a single day, never mind just a few hours.
A normal, average-sized house seemed to take about an hour for a Prime to conjure, based on what he’d heard on the ever-reliable Dataverse. Given the great size of the superstructure he was aiming to erect here, he’d have never stood a chance of completing it had the summoning scale been so linear. As it was, he had no idea how long this was going to require. Buildings of this magnitude were rarely summoned, so finding even an approximate timescale had proven beyond his ability. At least, in the time he’d cared to devote to doing so.
The minutes ticked past, then the first hour had come and gone. As the rainbow-coloured blob spread upwards into the sky, now more-or-less 300 metres wide and almost 400 tall – and still growing – he knew that it must be visible from all over Northside… hell, maybe even some of those further down south might have been able to spot it. He was sure that at any moment, the Northside Wolfpack would show up and tear through his followers so quickly that they’d make the old idiom about a hot knife and butter seem slow as the crawl of a glacier by comparison.
They never did, though. There was some attention drawn, of course, and that may well have been what kept them away; they might have been willing to believe that Coruscant’s leadership would overlook the slaughter of a single squad of stormtroopers, who had already proven themselves entirely too willful for their masters’ tastes, but that didn’t mean they would be allowed to massacre innocent civilians en masse and expect to get away with it.
The crowd grew larger by the hour… and hours did pass. Eventually, the Battle Rabbit allowed his arms to fall by his sides… he didn’t have much choice; they were screaming in pain. The effort of simply holding them up for an extended period might well have been his undoing… or so he thought, right up until it happened. When the bubble of Omnilium didn't completely collapse in upon itself the moment he moved, though, Hijiri realised that he may well be allowed some further leeway… so long as he kept his focus, that was.
From that point on, he sat on the ground as he worked, cross-legged, as if meditating. At long, long last, after… five? Maybe six hours of work, it was done. Folding in upon itself and tearing apart, the shifting light of the Omnilium briefly fluttered in the air like vast, tattered sails, before dissolving and fading away. In the space in which the bubble had occupied now sat a tower.
It reached far up into the heavens, all the way to the roof of the tier, a skyscraper in the shape of a column, five hundred metres high and one hundred metres wide, the column’s base being a circular, veined, white granite staircase that stretched as far out as fifty metres from the building’s walls, and rose up forty metres at its highest point. The cylinder itself was lined with mirrored windows that filled an entire wall of each room within the building, a grid-like network of steel struts holding the panes in place, all the way up to the very top of the tower, where an immense slab of intricately carved stone – the same granite that made up the steps at the foot of the building – pressed against the ceiling, appearing as though it were touching the sky itself.
His new skyscraper stood in a wide, open, square, concrete plaza, which ended at the pavement on which the Rabbit stood. The plaza was about three hundred metres across from East to West (the same angle as the road they were currently crowding) though probably only about two hundred and sixty metres from North to South. On every side bar the one nearest the road, the distance between the foot of the steps and the edge of their courtyard was about fifty metres, whilst for that one (the southern side) there was only ten metres or so between them.
“Bring everyone inside, the reporters too, along with anyone we forced out of their homes.” Hijiri told Alejandro after he had gotten to his feet and the leather-clad man had moved forward to stand by his side.
“Of course.” there was not the slightest hesitation in his voice, he didn’t stop to consider the order, simply taking it for granted that the Prime knew best.
Hijiri strolled forwards and up the stairs, hearing the first of the group begin following him. When he reached the apex of the steps, there was a plateau ten metres wide from the top step to the wall. Once he was within a couple metres of it, the section closest to him sunk down into the stone platform with a light hiss as the massive glass plate descended on thin steel rails built into the struts that held it – and each of the other panels – in place. All of the sections along the ground floor worked in the same way, meaning that when the building was not on lockdown, no matter which direction it was approached from, a ‘door’ would open to allow the visitor ingress.
Passing through the entrance, he saw that the glass blocks which made up his walls were no less than two feet thick, exactly as he had intended, as were the metal segments that held them; far less frail-seeming from this vantage point that when looked upon from without. Finally, the walls were really only one-way mirrors; from within the building he could see out in every direction with perfect clarity. This, combined with all the steps they must ascend and the wide open plaza around it, would make taking the building’s security personnel unawares a challenge to all but the fastest of foes.
The interior of the ground floor was all a single vast foyer, with both the ceiling and floor tiled with square, half-metre-wide plates of the same veined, white granite that made up the steps and the column’s crest. The ones on the floor were plain stone, though those in the ceiling each had a flat, white light built into its centre. Unbeknownst to anyone but Hijiri, those lights also contained high-definition CCTV cameras… he had summoned the most expensive possible defences he could possibly come up with for this place, so they would provide his people with all sorts of advantages. They’d need to if they were to be used to fend off gangs like the NSW.
In the dead centre of the vast room there sat a ring-shaped counter of obsidian, with a dozen computers sitting atop it, their monitors faced inwards. An equal number of chairs sat behind the desk; for whomever he cared to station down here, either receptionists or guards.
Finally, there were four cuboid pillars of that white granite that reached up into the ceiling. Each was about two metres wide, and all four faces held a stone slab which was two metres high and a foot thinner on either side than the full column, which could withdraw into the floor in a manner identical to that of the building’s main entrances. These pillars were actually elevator shafts, which continued all the way up the building’s length, as far as Hijiri’s private rooms right at the very top, within the superstructure’s stone cap.
Once everyone was inside, he spoke. Starting by introducing himself and his new ‘private security firm’, then moving on to welcome them all to his new Base, which he christened ‘The Pillar That Holds Up The Sky’... it was a needlessly grandiose name, of course, but that was the whole point. It was supposed to be attention-grabbing. He was trying to make his company memorable, after all. After that, he offered to give any of those who had been forced from their homes a place to stay – rent free – in his tower, along with a generous wage, should they agree to come and work for him. It would be a good way to expand his forces, he figured, whilst also hopefully appeasing the people he had kicked from their slums by giving them a place to stay that was objectively better in every way.
He then spoke to the TV crews… or rather, to their audiences. His first public announcement was that he was officially leaving the EPD. The deaths of the squad he had been a part of had left him with no reason to go back. Next, in a less-than-subtle attempt at patching over any bad feelings that might be had by his former superiors on Tier One, he acknowledged that a business as large as The Takanomiya Group, and with such a sprawling headquarters, must surely have a lot of taxes to pay, and invited the Council to send a representative down to discuss the matter, so that they could begin paying their dues as promptly as possible, as any law-abiding company would be more than happy to.
Those things out of the way, he ended up his speech by taunting the people who had already publicly declared that they were seeking to kill him… because how could that possibly not be a good idea?
“-And to the Northside Wolfpack, I say this; here I am. I won’t be running, and this building is quite hard to miss, I’m sure even the least intelligent of those drooling brutes you call gangsters could manage to locate it eventually. You say you’ll kill me like you did those stormtroopers… and I say that my Takanomiya Group could use some proof of our superiority. If we are to convince the citizens of Northside that it would be in their best interests to hire us to keep their homes and places of business safe, having a gang to make target practise out of would come in really handy… so what do you say? Will you be marching into our Base like lambs to the slaughter, or would you rather simply hide away in the shadows like the cowards you are...? Or, perhaps you would care to give us the location of one of your own hideouts? If it’s too much trouble to come to us, we would be perfectly willing to pay you a visit instead.”
He smirked at the cameras, willing his facial muscles to express a smug satisfaction that he most certainly did not feel. There was no way the NSW would publicly announce the location of one of their hidden bases, which left only two options; they could opt to look weak, or they could attack and… well… hopefully these fortifications of his would prove adequate.
So it might not have been the most impressive display of raw might, but it was nevertheless sure to catch someone’s notice.
Or so he had thought.
The mood was cautiously celebratory when they returned to the three tenement blocks that currently served as their base of operations. Still, there was a tinge of nervousness in the air. The two main gangs in the area were both far more powerful than they. If either the Pyros or the Wolfpack marshalled all their forces, Bernie King’s so-called ‘Northside Small Fries’ would without doubt be crushed underfoot, even with all the nice new weapons ‘Hoarse’ had given them.
No one voiced these fears to Hijiri, though. In fact, no one even considered them when he was in the vicinity. His apparent complete lack of concern for the threat put them all at ease.
Of course, the Battle Rabbit knew full well that they couldn’t win against an entire rival gang. The reason for his relaxed attitude was simply that it took a lot to motivate a whole gang to mobilise at speed. One little, barely profitable sweatshop wasn’t going to do it. Someone might send a pack of goons around to investigate, but no one they couldn’t deal with or chase off.
For the time being, they still had some leeway. He trained his gangsters a little more that afternoon – taking the building hadn’t required the whole day, after all – and then in the evening, spent a while summoning another huge, armoured eighteen-wheeler, which he left parked beside the first.
That night, especially after Hijiri had fallen asleep, many eyes watched warily for strangers in the dark. If anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary, though, they must have managed to reason it away as being a coincidence or just their imagination, for no one raised an alarm and roused their fellows from their slumber.
That was day one of their little four-step plan. There was no official name for it, as the Rabbit was too busy pretending he hated to speak to spare any words for witty monikers. That said, ‘Operation: Fuck Up Those Sweatshop Pricks’ had become pretty popular.
On the second day, after a hearty breakfast courtesy of Hijiri and his seemingly limitless supply of Omnilium, they went out and did the same thing they had the day before. It seemed these guys had heard about the previous attack, though, and chose to hire some extra grunts to watch their building. They knew what to expect, and they fought back.
Or they thought they knew what to expect, rather. They weren't able to do a thing when Hijiri unleashed his True Form against them, though, and they couldn't comprehend how his crew could remain so steadfast when their friends and family were gunned down all around them.
An impressive showing or not, though, they still lost several people in that fight, and over a dozen more were injured. They didn't let the guards run off this time. They were slain, to a man. This would send a message, the Battle Rabbit told his people. If any security personnel fought back when caught up in one of their assaults from now on, they would know to expect no mercy. It should hopefully convince other guards not to oppose them in future.
Hijiri deconstructed and absorbed the entire building, just as he had done to the last one, and they headed back once again, much more sombre now than the previous day. Once home those who felt up to it did some training… without the Rabbit to help them. Hijiri spent the entire rest of the day using Omnilium accelerate the healing of their injured as best he could.
On their third outing, things went better. The guards dropped their weapons and calmly filed out of the building as soon as they showed up. Their leader spoke briefly to Hijiri and Alejandro, for just long enough to tell them that they weren't being paid enough to throw their lives away. They'd heard the rumours, the man said, and knew that the hooded guy was without doubt a Prime.
When they returned from taking that building, those new recruits who’d agreed to join the burgeoning gang in tow, they were back to feeling pleased with themselves. They trained some more, then the Rabbit created another truck. By this point, though, he was beginning to feel a little concerned.
No one from any other gang had shown up to investigate the situation with the vanishing buildings. Even if it had only been three days now, the frequency of their attacks ought to really have merited some response.
The Northside Pyros he might be able to write off as having thrown some massive party, as was their habit, according to the word on the street... so perhaps they were all still nursing hangovers… or, hell, maybe their schools were just in an exam season, or something, so they were taking a break from the thug life for a bit. They were still just a bunch of teens, after all.
But the NSW? Two of the sweatshops they’d hit were in the Wolfpack’s domain, and that lot ought to be efficient enough to take notice when others started going after their turf. It concerned him that he hadn’t heard anything about them, recently. Could it be that they actually were mobilising their entire force, but doing it slowly and quietly, so as to give nothing away? If so, they could show up at any moment, taking them all completely by surprise. They wouldn’t stand a sliver of a chance in such a situation.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, one way or another, so he saw no reason to brood over it. If they did show up then everyone here would die, himself included… but being a Prime, he would simply return to life, after which he could either choose to start this experiment over, or rejoin the squad.
It would be unfortunate, of course, as he was beginning to grow a little attached to this bunch, despite his best attempts at maintaining his distance… but he could take it, if the worst happened and he lost them.
On the fourth day of their miniature campaign, the guards were waiting outside for them when they arrived. Their leader gave him a nod and they all climbed into a couple small vans by the roadside and drove off. Alejandro gave his spiel once again, whilst the Rabbit slowly deconstructed the final building.
Upon returning to the tenements, the Slum King ordered a massive party thrown for their ‘conquering heroes’, complete with banquet tables out in the courtyard and barrel upon barrel upon barrel of alcohol. Which was ever so generous of him, given that Hijiri’s Omnilium was what he was relying on to fund all of this extravagance.
Still, everyone seemed keen on the idea, so the Prime went along with it. It wasn’t like he had any shortage of the stuff, not after weeks of collecting it whilst working for the Empire, followed by these latest acquisitions.
The rest of them enjoyed themselves, whilst he stood apart… or sought to, at least, trying his best to act like the sort of edgy loner he had intended to make this persona out to be. Alejandro wouldn’t hear of it, though. He – along with a close-knit group of his friends, who had become the most ardent supporters of ‘Hoarse’ amongst the gang’s members – insisted on hanging around him as much as possible.
Hijiri didn’t get the impression that they were ass-kissing, though. They seemed perfectly content to act all stoic and serious, mimicking his own attitude, not even partaking of any alcohol. It seemed as though they were taking their self-imposed duties with the utmost seriousness. It was quite a change from when he had met the Spaniard and his lot outside the slums, when he had first shown up here. Rather than a bat-wielding imbecile, that man seemed now more like some sort of professional killer. His gaze was predatory as he glanced around at the raucous crowd, on the watch for... assassins, presumably, though why any gang would feel the need to bother with such tactics when faced with foes as feeble as these 'Small Fries', the Rabbit wasn't sure.
The Prime was impressed by their progress, he had to admit. They were still a shoddily-dressed bunch, of course, but that was something that could be worked on in future, if they so desired. For the time being, essentials were more important than fancy clothes… well, essentials and huge banquets, apparently.
Much later in the evening than he had in previous days, Hijiri got to work on summoning another eighteen-wheeled truck for their collection, identical in every way to the previous three. This should be the last, for the time being. With these four, they ought to have enough space to more-or-less comfortably fit the entire crew, if need be, all those who’d been brought on board from the sweatshops included. He could always make more at a later date, he supposed. Even after buying all of this, he still had plenty of Omnilium left, and as long as they continued to… deconstruct, the properties of anyone under the dubious ‘protection’ of Northside’s other gangs, that wasn’t about to change.
Not until someone finally got pissed off enough to show up and slaughter them all, at least.
Minor potential problems such as that aside, though, Hijiri was actually feeling pretty good about how things were going, right then. They’d taken out all four of the businesses in which their buildings’ residents had slaved away, so with that symbolic victory out of the way, they could now move on to bigger, more lucrative targets.
Even if he was to keep up the act of still being a newly summoned Prime, it wouldn’t be long now until the Rabbit could conceivably get away with summoning his people a new base. Something a lot sturdier than these three wrecks. When that happened, they’d at least have some small chance at resisting if not an entire rival gang then at least a goodly portion of one.
It was with pleasant thoughts such as this in his mind that the Battle Rabbit fell asleep that night, fully intent on taking a lazy day tomorrow and sleeping until at least the early afternoon.
It was 5:37am when he was woken by Alejandro.
“You should see this, boss.” the man didn’t seem worried, so it likely wasn’t an imminent threat, which was good… still, he wouldn’t have barged in here if it wasn’t important, so Hijiri – who had swapped out his usual coat and trousers for a hoodie and a pair of tracksuit bottoms whilst he slept (gotta keep that identity concealed, after all) – was up in a moment. He didn’t even take the time to correct his supporter’s use of the word ‘boss’; for the time being, it still suited him just fine to have the ‘Slum King’ thinking he ruled the roost here, so he had been trying to get that guy and his little band to quit with that. This likely wasn’t the best time for it, though.
“Yes?” he kept his voice hoarse and his response brief, staying in character. Alejandro held out a phone with a video playing on its screen, and hit a button to turn the sound back on.
The first thing he noticed about it was the time of day. Despite being well and truly familiar with the temporal oddities of Omniphyisics by now, he still found it jarring to see what was supposedly a live broadcast which looked to be taking place in mid-afternoon, despite it still being the early hours of the morning where he was, just several miles or so away from the location of the feed.
They were outside a store of some sort. Talking about slaughtering stormtroopers. He calmly watched the video to the end of the interview, then told the Spaniard to skip back to the start, which he did. Hijiri watched it a second time. It was no more pleasant than it had been in the first instance.
“Are you okay, boss?” his ally placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was only then that the Battle Rabbit realised he was shaking. With grief? With anger? With fear?
No. Not the latter, in any case. Of that he could be certain. The weight of this loss settled in his gut like a burning coal. After the fight with Shotgun Steve, he had barely given thought to the others’ safety when he left. It wasn’t until later, a couple days later, in fact, that he had finally checked up on them on the Dataverse. They seemed to be doing fine. Recruiting had been going well. He had thought the threat was passed, that the Wolfpack would learn their lesson from having failed the first time, that the presence of Sarah Watt would be enough.
Instead, the lesson they had learned seemed to be ‘if hitting them doesn’t work the first time, just hit harder the second’. That had done the job. Which meant it was all over. Kroll’s fancy little plan for securing Northside had fallen flat. They were all dead, and the message that other stormtrooper squads in the area would take from this would be that by doing as they had and showing any form of independence – and thereby incurring the displeasure of their superiors – they would be signing their own death warrants.
Given how unpopular their unsanctioned recruitment scheme had been on the upper tiers, the Battle Rabbit was sure that there would be no shortage of officials who were privately pleased to have one less headache to deal with… even if the cost of that headache’s removal had been the lives of dozens of loyal soldiers. He had no doubt that no Imperial response would be incoming. They had made it clear enough already that they didn’t give one single, solitary shit about Tier Five, after all.
He should have stayed with the squad, in spite of any personal disagreements, at least until that lot had been taken care of. It was too late now, though…
“Uh, boss? Hello?”
“... Ah, fuck it.” he couldn’t be bothered. Not any more. Knowing that it was probably a terrible idea but not being able to summon up the willpower to force himself to continue with this act, Hijiri yanked down the hood he wore and tore the old bandages from his face. His voice was perfectly clear when he spoke, a far cry from the whispery, rasping tones they had only ever heard up to now from him, “Alejandro, listen to me. I am not a new Prime, and my name certainly isn't ‘Hoarse’. Up until I joined your crew, I was a member of theirs.”
He nodded towards the phone, which his supporter was still holding in plain sight. Alejandro glanced down at it, and an instant later, something akin to sudden understanding flashed across his features, “The Wolfpack. You got in an argument with the other leaders so you stole as much Omnilium as you could, then left to go start your own rival gang? Is that how you were able to so easily supply us with all that stuff? The weapons and food and things?”
“Good guess, but no. Not the Northside Wolfpack. I was in with the people they just murdered. I am, in fact, a corporal of the EPD.”
The Spaniard took a couple steps back, his expression horror-stricken, his tone hurt, “You’re with them?”
“Well, I was, I suppose I should say. It’s not like I’ve got any reason to go back now.” if Alejandro noticed the bitterness in his voice – which he surely must have done, as the Rabbit made no effort whatsoever to conceal it – he gave no sign of it. In fact, his mood swung faster than the Prime would have thought possible.
“So you’re staying here, then? With m- us?”
Hijiri eyed him suspiciously. That hopeful expression seemed entirely out of place considering the Battle Rabbit had just admitted to having been lying to him ever since they met… but fine. He wasn’t about to question it now. He had more important concerns.
“Yes. Not just staying, though. I’m going to make those bastards pay for what they’ve done, and everyone in this gang is going to help me, whether they like it or not.” his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and he glared straight ahead, barely seeing Alejandro before him. He’d need to calm himself soon. He wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything if he couldn’t even tame his own emotions. For the time being, though, he allowed himself the luxury of feeling.
Despite the dark look on Hijiri’s face and the coldness of his tone, the other man seemed positively excited by these words, “Great! Well, I'm with you all the way! What do we do first, boss?”
“Boss, huh?” the Rabbit mused softly, “Yes, I suppose that should be the thing to come first. Go round up anyone you think you can convince to side with me despite my… prior allegiance. Meet me back here in ten minutes or so. Then we’ll go pay our ‘King’ a little visit to discuss a slight change in leadership.”
“Yes, sir!” the skinhead’s exuberance was not contagious. Hijiri glowered after him as he sped out of the shabby little excuse for a room. It was pretty damn apparent that Alejandro – and probably the rest of his little band of supporters as well – had been hoping for him to take the reins of this gang sooner or later, and was all too pleased to see that happening now… even if it was likely a little earlier than expected… and if the reason was because every other person he had befriended since coming to Coruscant had just been brutally murdered.
Sighing, he shook his head, disregarding those thoughts. He’d need the gang with him for this… well, he could do with them, at least… this would be easier, with their help. A little… probably. They were no longer complete amateurs, at least. So he would be best not to pick fights with anyone who seemed too happy right now. Hell, he should probably be pleased by it.
Before Alejandro returned, the Rabbit summoned himself some new clothes and put those on. It felt good to be dressed more professionally, once again. He’d been getting tired of walking around with a hood up at all times, not to mention having to keep his face hidden. He now wore a ‘simple’ black suit with a white shirt. ‘Simple’ in quotes, because despite what a first glance might reveal, it was actually anything but. Everything he wore now was about as expensive as clothing could be. Just like the good old days, back home, before the Omniverse had swallowed him up.
It was a waste, he knew. There was no need to spend so much on mere fashion… but what the hell. If all went as intended, he’d be broadcasting his image all over Tier Five before the day was done, so he might as well look his best.
When the others showed up – and he saw that his supporter had indeed brought along the entire group who had been so keen on hanging around him the previous night – they seemed duly impressed by his fine clothes… or perhaps that was just the shock of seeing his face for once.
Either way, they were on board with the plan, and that was what mattered. The Slum King’s apartment was just down a short hallway from Hijiri’s, so it was hardly a lengthy journey. Once there, they burst in with no warning and hauled him out of bed, whilst he was dressed in nothing more than a vest and boxers, which left entirely too little to the imagination. Shockingly, he wasn’t so pleased by that.
He also wasn’t too satisfied with their reason for interrupting his rest… or of Hijiri’s sudden desire to take over his crew. Still, he was a fat, unfit, balding slob, surrounded by a small group of armed men and women, one of whom was a Prime.
“Alright, King, that’s the story,” the Battle Rabbit said, after finishing bringing the former gang leader up to speed, “now, you’ve got two choices: a) you can step down with no fuss, encourage everyone else to roll over without complaint, and accept a privileged position in our new… organisation, or; b) you can refuse, force us to drag you out in front of everyone, and beg them to side with you rather than me. It might pan out. It’s not likely, but it’s certainly possible, especially once they all know that I've been lying about my past, and that up until a week ago, I was actively working for the Empire.”
He paused for a moment, to let the impact of his words sink in. Bernie’s eyes narrowed, “So what happens if the gang does choose me?”
The words were probably supposed to come out as a gruff snarl. Instead, they seemed more akin to a whimper… or perhaps a whine, at best.
“If that were to happen, I’d force you all to leave. I’m planning some… abrupt renovations, and I don’t have the time or inclination to go prancing around looking for better spots. I’m taking this building, one way or another, and you know you can’t hope to stop me.”
“Damn it. Damn you!” Bernie actually had tears in his eyes. He was shaking now, just as Hijiri had been not so long before, fists clenched. A couple people snickered, but the Prime silenced them with a glare. For all that this guy might be a useless lump of a man, he had somehow managed to earn the loyalty of these people at one time or another, and many of them could well remain loyal to him… he would be a useful asset in making their change in leadership as smooth as possible. That was important. One thing they could most certainly do without right now were any additional complications.
They waited in silence for a several seconds longer, and then the ‘King’ finally wilted, his shoulders hunching over dejectedly, “Fine. You win. It’s no choice at all, is it?”
“Of course it’s a choice. Just an obvious one, that’s all. I’m glad you made it correctly. Now, before we head out to speak to everyone, I have some things I need to summon, so if you could all just wait a few minutes.” Hijiri held out his arms and a widening, stretching bubble of Omnilium left his body and drifted to the floor. They were clearly somewhat perplexed, but after muttering variations of ‘uh, sure’, they all did as he asked and stood around patiently for the time it took him, which was just shy of ten minutes.
“So… uh, what is all this, then, boss?” one of his assembled allies asked afterwards, staring down at what the Rabbit had just crafted.
“These are for you all, and for everyone else who’s willing to stick around and take orders from me. Our gang currently doesn’t have any identifying symbols or colours. That’s going to change. I’m not about to start forcing people to wear only clothes of the appropriate shade, like the Wolfpack do, but whenever anyone is out and about on gang business, I want them wearing one of these armbands.”
A woman picked one up. They were dark green in colour, with a thin white stripe a centimetre or so inwards from the upper and lower edges. Between those lines, on one side, were the letters ‘TTG’, also in white, “Okay, sure… and what does this mean?”
“It’s an acronym. Back in my original world, I was the head of a corporate empire with numerous unrelated businesses all under my management. Collectively, those companies were referred to as ‘The Takanomiya Group’. Which will now also serve as our gang’s new name.”
“Really?” the woman asked sceptically, though the Rabbit didn’t fail to notice that she still slid the armband on quickly enough, despite her apparent reservations, “You don’t think it seems a bit too… professional for us? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still an improvement over ‘Northside Small Fries’, but, well, look at us. We're not exactly the suit and tie kinda bunch, y'know?”
“It’s supposed to be professional. We’re going to be masquerading as a legitimate company. Trust me, after tonight, a lot of people are going to be taking notice of us, and it would be better for all our sakes if the Empire didn’t have an excuse to send a squad of Space Marines down here to slaughter us.” he might ordinarily have said these words wryly, but in his current mood, he couldn’t manage anything more than a listless monotone.
“Heh. Well, that certainly sounds promising.” she replied, apparently having no more inclination to keep her own good cheer subtle than had Alejandro.
“And the rest of it?” the aforementioned Spaniard asked. There were still two other small piles on the ground, aside from the large mound of armbands.
“This one is for our former Slum King,” he pointed at a horribly clashing heap of silk and fur, “Congratulations, Bernie, you’re now our Treasurer. Get dressed.”
At first hesitant, then with much more enthusiasm once he realised the high quality (and value) of the garish garments given to him, the slob slipped into his perfectly fitting new outfit. A thick, violet, silk robe, with a neon yellow sash of the same fabric tied beneath his prodigious gut like a belt. His shoes were moccasins of red velvet, lined with white ermine fur. In addition, he now wore a cloak of scarlet wool, with a wide collar of the same fur as adorned his shoes. Finally, atop his head, there rested a true crown of gold, rather than just the feeble imitation he had been fond of wearing before.
“Well, how do I look?” Bernie demanded, posing with hands on hips.
“Absurd.” Alejandro answered immediately, “like a clown with far more money than common sense. Was this really necessary?”
This last sentence was directed towards the Battle Rabbit, “This exact getup? No. I could have just had us all wear suits, and it would all have seemed perfectly respectable. Totally acceptable for a business’ directors… but I’d rather we all stand out when we make our debut, and I’m tired of being the one in costume, so you two are getting that questionable honour today. If you want to toss these dumb clothes as soon as we’re done here, I won’t blame either of you.”
“Uh… me too? Then, you mean… this stuff here is for me?” his first ally gestured towards the last and least-interesting looking pile. It was mostly brown.
“Of course. You’re my right-hand man, after all. You didn’t think I’d include King and leave you out, right?” though Hijiri’s tone was still utterly lacking in any sort of emotion, Alejandro never even seemed to take notice. To be fair, compared to the terse snippets of a response that the Rabbit had been prone to giving when using the ‘Hoarse’ alias, this was positively friendly.
“Your right-hand man? Really?” the skinhead’s expression was positively giddy. Someone behind him chuckled softly, and he immediately snapped to attention, suddenly serious, “I mean, of course, I’ll just get changed, sir.”
Showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment, he slipped out of the tracksuit and trainers he had been wearing and donned his new getup in their place. He now wore a boiled leather vest, boiled leather knee-high boots, and regular, unhardened leather trousers, tucked into the boots, with a leather belt. There was a lot of leather, all of it dark brown. Atop that, he wore what looked like an overcoat of chainmail, reaching almost to his ankles, though he left it hanging open. And atop that he put on another overcoat, this one made of more brown leather, and also left hanging open. The bottom of the second coat, along with the ends of the sleeves, didn't quite reach as far as those of the chainmail, leaving it partially visible; making it obvious that this guy was armoured.
He also pulled on a pair of leather gloves and an extra-wide-brimmed hat of a matching colour… though not made from leather, this time. Unlike Bernie’s outfit, and despite being newly summoned, these items all bore the hallmarks of long use. Hijiri was aiming to make his supporter out to be some sort of combat veteran… making his outfit all shiny and new would have ruined that impression entirely. Alejandro either understood this or was just too polite to comment on the fact that his stuff looked second-hand.
“Alright. If you’re all ready now,” Hijiri continued once they had all finished slipping on armbands, “gather up the rest of those things and hand them out to everyone while you explain the situation. Once that’s done, get these slums emptied. I want everyone outside.”
They did as he asked. It went smoothly for the most part, with Bernie doing a surprisingly good job of earning his keep. Heaping him with gifts had certainly been the correct approach. Now, rather than focusing on what he had lost, the slob was instead revelling in his newfound prosperity. Bernie told them all that he had willingly stepped aside, that he had been only too happy to allow Hijiri to take over, in spite of his lies… because of them, even. He told them that the Battle Rabbit had been so desperate to help them, to use his secret hoard of Omnilium to keep them safe – lest he lose them, as he had just lost his friends in the EPD – that he had been unable to will himself to hide his identity any longer, despite the risk that they might all end up judging and hating him for his past associations with the government which couldn’t have cared less about their wellbeing.
It was, the Prime had to admit – if only in the privacy of his own thoughts – a pretty impressive line of bullshit. And they fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Once they were all outside, wearing armbands, and armed with their handguns and swords, he ordered those of them who weren’t too young, elderly or infirm, to spread out through their little neighbourhood, finding any other slum dwellers or squatters in the vicinity and clear them out. He didn’t explain why exactly, and although there was some confusion, they did get to it. Eventually, he was notified that it had been taken care of. Everyone within a 150 metre radius or so of the three tenements had been run out of their homes. They weren’t particularly happy about it, but when confronted with a band of armed men and women wielding katanas and pistols, they had had little choice but to obey.
That done, he held his arms outstretched once again and focused on his next creation. Something far bigger and more ambitious than he had ever attempted before. Excruciatingly slowly, tediously and monotonously, a brightly coloured mass of Omnilium stretched up and outwards. The time taken to summon things in the Omniverse was not simply multiplicative; twice the mass did not equal twice the time, and thank Omni for that. If it had, he couldn’t even have attempted to do this in a single day, never mind just a few hours.
A normal, average-sized house seemed to take about an hour for a Prime to conjure, based on what he’d heard on the ever-reliable Dataverse. Given the great size of the superstructure he was aiming to erect here, he’d have never stood a chance of completing it had the summoning scale been so linear. As it was, he had no idea how long this was going to require. Buildings of this magnitude were rarely summoned, so finding even an approximate timescale had proven beyond his ability. At least, in the time he’d cared to devote to doing so.
The minutes ticked past, then the first hour had come and gone. As the rainbow-coloured blob spread upwards into the sky, now more-or-less 300 metres wide and almost 400 tall – and still growing – he knew that it must be visible from all over Northside… hell, maybe even some of those further down south might have been able to spot it. He was sure that at any moment, the Northside Wolfpack would show up and tear through his followers so quickly that they’d make the old idiom about a hot knife and butter seem slow as the crawl of a glacier by comparison.
They never did, though. There was some attention drawn, of course, and that may well have been what kept them away; they might have been willing to believe that Coruscant’s leadership would overlook the slaughter of a single squad of stormtroopers, who had already proven themselves entirely too willful for their masters’ tastes, but that didn’t mean they would be allowed to massacre innocent civilians en masse and expect to get away with it.
The crowd grew larger by the hour… and hours did pass. Eventually, the Battle Rabbit allowed his arms to fall by his sides… he didn’t have much choice; they were screaming in pain. The effort of simply holding them up for an extended period might well have been his undoing… or so he thought, right up until it happened. When the bubble of Omnilium didn't completely collapse in upon itself the moment he moved, though, Hijiri realised that he may well be allowed some further leeway… so long as he kept his focus, that was.
From that point on, he sat on the ground as he worked, cross-legged, as if meditating. At long, long last, after… five? Maybe six hours of work, it was done. Folding in upon itself and tearing apart, the shifting light of the Omnilium briefly fluttered in the air like vast, tattered sails, before dissolving and fading away. In the space in which the bubble had occupied now sat a tower.
It reached far up into the heavens, all the way to the roof of the tier, a skyscraper in the shape of a column, five hundred metres high and one hundred metres wide, the column’s base being a circular, veined, white granite staircase that stretched as far out as fifty metres from the building’s walls, and rose up forty metres at its highest point. The cylinder itself was lined with mirrored windows that filled an entire wall of each room within the building, a grid-like network of steel struts holding the panes in place, all the way up to the very top of the tower, where an immense slab of intricately carved stone – the same granite that made up the steps at the foot of the building – pressed against the ceiling, appearing as though it were touching the sky itself.
His new skyscraper stood in a wide, open, square, concrete plaza, which ended at the pavement on which the Rabbit stood. The plaza was about three hundred metres across from East to West (the same angle as the road they were currently crowding) though probably only about two hundred and sixty metres from North to South. On every side bar the one nearest the road, the distance between the foot of the steps and the edge of their courtyard was about fifty metres, whilst for that one (the southern side) there was only ten metres or so between them.
“Bring everyone inside, the reporters too, along with anyone we forced out of their homes.” Hijiri told Alejandro after he had gotten to his feet and the leather-clad man had moved forward to stand by his side.
“Of course.” there was not the slightest hesitation in his voice, he didn’t stop to consider the order, simply taking it for granted that the Prime knew best.
Hijiri strolled forwards and up the stairs, hearing the first of the group begin following him. When he reached the apex of the steps, there was a plateau ten metres wide from the top step to the wall. Once he was within a couple metres of it, the section closest to him sunk down into the stone platform with a light hiss as the massive glass plate descended on thin steel rails built into the struts that held it – and each of the other panels – in place. All of the sections along the ground floor worked in the same way, meaning that when the building was not on lockdown, no matter which direction it was approached from, a ‘door’ would open to allow the visitor ingress.
Passing through the entrance, he saw that the glass blocks which made up his walls were no less than two feet thick, exactly as he had intended, as were the metal segments that held them; far less frail-seeming from this vantage point that when looked upon from without. Finally, the walls were really only one-way mirrors; from within the building he could see out in every direction with perfect clarity. This, combined with all the steps they must ascend and the wide open plaza around it, would make taking the building’s security personnel unawares a challenge to all but the fastest of foes.
The interior of the ground floor was all a single vast foyer, with both the ceiling and floor tiled with square, half-metre-wide plates of the same veined, white granite that made up the steps and the column’s crest. The ones on the floor were plain stone, though those in the ceiling each had a flat, white light built into its centre. Unbeknownst to anyone but Hijiri, those lights also contained high-definition CCTV cameras… he had summoned the most expensive possible defences he could possibly come up with for this place, so they would provide his people with all sorts of advantages. They’d need to if they were to be used to fend off gangs like the NSW.
In the dead centre of the vast room there sat a ring-shaped counter of obsidian, with a dozen computers sitting atop it, their monitors faced inwards. An equal number of chairs sat behind the desk; for whomever he cared to station down here, either receptionists or guards.
Finally, there were four cuboid pillars of that white granite that reached up into the ceiling. Each was about two metres wide, and all four faces held a stone slab which was two metres high and a foot thinner on either side than the full column, which could withdraw into the floor in a manner identical to that of the building’s main entrances. These pillars were actually elevator shafts, which continued all the way up the building’s length, as far as Hijiri’s private rooms right at the very top, within the superstructure’s stone cap.
Once everyone was inside, he spoke. Starting by introducing himself and his new ‘private security firm’, then moving on to welcome them all to his new Base, which he christened ‘The Pillar That Holds Up The Sky’... it was a needlessly grandiose name, of course, but that was the whole point. It was supposed to be attention-grabbing. He was trying to make his company memorable, after all. After that, he offered to give any of those who had been forced from their homes a place to stay – rent free – in his tower, along with a generous wage, should they agree to come and work for him. It would be a good way to expand his forces, he figured, whilst also hopefully appeasing the people he had kicked from their slums by giving them a place to stay that was objectively better in every way.
He then spoke to the TV crews… or rather, to their audiences. His first public announcement was that he was officially leaving the EPD. The deaths of the squad he had been a part of had left him with no reason to go back. Next, in a less-than-subtle attempt at patching over any bad feelings that might be had by his former superiors on Tier One, he acknowledged that a business as large as The Takanomiya Group, and with such a sprawling headquarters, must surely have a lot of taxes to pay, and invited the Council to send a representative down to discuss the matter, so that they could begin paying their dues as promptly as possible, as any law-abiding company would be more than happy to.
Those things out of the way, he ended up his speech by taunting the people who had already publicly declared that they were seeking to kill him… because how could that possibly not be a good idea?
“-And to the Northside Wolfpack, I say this; here I am. I won’t be running, and this building is quite hard to miss, I’m sure even the least intelligent of those drooling brutes you call gangsters could manage to locate it eventually. You say you’ll kill me like you did those stormtroopers… and I say that my Takanomiya Group could use some proof of our superiority. If we are to convince the citizens of Northside that it would be in their best interests to hire us to keep their homes and places of business safe, having a gang to make target practise out of would come in really handy… so what do you say? Will you be marching into our Base like lambs to the slaughter, or would you rather simply hide away in the shadows like the cowards you are...? Or, perhaps you would care to give us the location of one of your own hideouts? If it’s too much trouble to come to us, we would be perfectly willing to pay you a visit instead.”
He smirked at the cameras, willing his facial muscles to express a smug satisfaction that he most certainly did not feel. There was no way the NSW would publicly announce the location of one of their hidden bases, which left only two options; they could opt to look weak, or they could attack and… well… hopefully these fortifications of his would prove adequate.
![[Image: Hijiri_Name_Sig.png]](https://image.ibb.co/k1H7Hd/Hijiri_Name_Sig.png)