04-18-2018, 01:48 AM
“Sir? You wanted to see us?” Alejandro strode over towards the Prime after leaving the lift, Bernie at his heels.
“Yeah, just a second. Take a seat.” with his right hand, Hijiri waved vaguely across at a black, leather couch on the other side of the large, ovoid, maple wood table at which he sat, in his equally black and leathery armchair. With his left, he continued what he'd been doing prior to their arrival; typing up a Dataverse message.
Once finished with that, he slid his phone back into a pocket and faced them, where they now sat. He had at first given the pair fancy outfits to wear for the gang’s début, four days prior, solely to make them stand out more in front of the cameras if any reporters showed up – as they ultimately had done – but both seemed pleased with the ridiculous gifts, and had opted to continue wearing them since: Bernie in what he had taken to calling his ‘robes of office’, and Alejandro in his leather & chainmail getup.
The Rabbit’s gaze settled on his Head of Security first, “So. The Wolfpack. Any updates, Alejandro?”
“Yeah. Yes, sir, I mean. They’re definitely preparing to hit us hard, there’s no doubt about it anymore. The few other small gangs and all the independent criminals within miles of the Pillar have cleared out. For the time being, at least. No one wants to get caught up in this. Word on the street is that we’re totally fucked. They’re gonna hit us with everything they have… and they’re not making any secret out of it either. There’s no way their plans could have become such common knowledge if they actually wanted to keep things under wraps. I’d guess the idea is that by letting the info out that they’re working on something big, they avoid looking afraid in the meantime,” the Spaniard shrugged, “it certainly doesn’t seem like anyone believes they’re frightened of us, anyway.”
“Pity.” the Prime mused. It would have been nice for the NSW to rush in unprepared and get torn apart by his new Base’s defences… or to make their preparations in absolute secrecy, and have everyone thinking that they weren’t up to accepting his challenge. Sadly, it seemed at least one person on their side was bright enough to consider the consequences of their actions.
“It doesn’t make that big a difference, though. While it would have been preferable for them to do something stupid, it’ll all work out the same in the end.”
The two men on the other side of the table glanced at one another and then back at the Prime, who couldn’t have been more at ease.
“You’re... sure?” Alejandro asked. Despite the fact that his face could barely even be seen behind the high collar of his coat and the extremely wide-brimmed hat he wore, his awkward fidgeting made it clear that he wasn’t at all comfortable questioning the Battle Rabbit. It was a sign of how seriously he was taking this threat that he was willing to speak up at all.
“Yes. Don’t worry. I’ve… discovered something, recently.” Hijiri looked at his right hand and flexed his fingers experimentally, as though unfamiliar with them, “I’ve grown a lot stronger since coming here, to the Omniverse, and at some point I reached I tipping point… I can now make use of my most powerful form, becoming something far beyond a normal Battle Rabbit. Don’t worry. The Northside Wolfpack are no longer a concern. Even out in the open, I could probably defeat them… within the Pillar, they'll not even pose a challenge.”
“Uh…” for a moment, the Spaniard hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he smiled, reassured by the Director’s fearlessness, “of course, sir. I can’t wait to see this new form in action.”
The Rabbit smirked, “When you do, make sure you watch closely… it can be a little hard to keep track of.”
He turned to the man in the garish purple, yellow, red & white outfit; their Treasurer, “And how’s it been going on your end?”
“All good, yeah,” Bernie puffed himself up, sticking out his chest a little in some sort of attempt at appearing important, “That tax guy from the Empire is still here, though it shouldn’t take him much longer to look through everything… it seems like they’re gonna be charging a lot, though… you’re definitely alright with that?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it. It shouldn’t be too hard to find some sleazy officials on Tier Four who can be bribed into lowering our tax band or whatever, if need be. Though to be honest, I expect we’ll be able to make a comfortable enough profit to easily pay the Empire off… and staying on their good side is essential. If they start sending squads of Space Marines down here then we’re fucked.”
“Speaking of profit, Director, ” Bernie began, licking his lips nervously and wringing his hands, “you haven’t actually said much about how we’re going to be earning all this money. I mean, I know that we’re going to be working as some sort of private security firm, but-”
The Rabbit held up a hand and Bernie clamped his mouth shut immediately, “We’re going to be pretending to be a private security firm. We’re going to be yakuza.”
“What now?” the Treasurer asked, blinking cluelessly.
“Gangsters, Bernie. Little different from the rest of the groups around here, except that we’ll have better PR. The private security thing is just a cover. It’ll give us a seemingly acceptable reason to take money from everyone in any neighbourhood in our domain… it’s basically just a protection racket, except that we openly admit to doing it and pretend that employing our services is voluntary… if we do a really good job then it’s possible even the people we’re racketeering won’t realise they’re victims of a crime.”
“Oh… but… didn’t you say that you were a member of the Empire Peace Division because you wanted to protect people? I-I mean, I’m not complaining, but I just thought, y’know...”
Hijiri frowned, then sighed, “Yes, the EPD… I had high hopes for them at one point, before I realised how corrupt the Empire really was. The EPD on Tier Five are a symbol to remind people that the Emperor is still in charge, nothing more… and my attempts at expanding that role were shot down. Tier Five is far away enough away from Palpatine's seat of power that they barely even care about policing it. So long as there isn’t anyone who might actually pose them a threat down here, they’re content to leave it as it is.”
He paused to regard them both in silence for a moment, “I am not, though. Even though we will be acting outside the law, at least in part, we’ll still have honour… that’s what it means to be yakuza. Yes, we’ll charge them protection fees… but then, if the time comes that they actually need protecting, we will protect them.”
Bernie opened his mouth to respond, but just then Alejandro’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of a pocket and answered. Now that they were acting the part of a big business, Hijiri had thought it best that they all have ways of communicating with each other… plus, with all the other technology he’d put in this place – including turrets, a teleportation system and even a machine that could somehow upload people directly into the Dataverse – it hardly made sense to not spend a little extra to get the crew some phones.
“Yeah? Yeah. What is it, then...? Larry watches the news? Huh... okay, sure... yeah, I will do. Thanks.” Alejandro’s side of his conversation was not hugely informative.
“Anything important?” the Rabbit asked once he had hung up, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Check out the broadcast on channel sixty-five million, seven hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and forty-three. You should see this.”
Fishing his smartphone back out of his pocket, Hijiri began typing, “Sixty-five million, seven hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and forty-three? There aren’t half a lot of these stations around, huh?”
“You’ve got no idea, sir. Check out Dataverse TV sometime. It has every channel, on demand, plus a whole bunch of amateur crap… it’s insane how much of this shit we have in the Omniverse… especially considering half the people living here come from weird fantasy worlds that don’t even have TVs.”
“Ah.” Hijiri had found the station. Even on the small screen of the Mobile Dataverse Device, the man he was looking at was unmistakable… as were the three Secondaries behind him, “Him.”
“He’s been mentioning your name, apparently.” Alejandro commented, looking down at his own phone, whilst Bernie glanced over at it as well, too lazy to get his out his pocket and find the channel himself.
Shotgun Steve was standing behind a blood-spattered desk, speaking, though the sound was off, currently. He held in his right hand a shotgun pressed to the head of a white-haired, old man—bound and gagged with some sort of blue fabric—who was presumably some sort of news anchor. He looked absolutely terrified, unsurprisingly. There were a couple empty seats as well, to the host’s right.
Further back, behind the Northside Wolfpack's Fourth 'Claw' and the three bikini-clad, fanatically loyal members of his support team—‘Elizabeth’—were a huddled mass of hostages and corpses.
Hijiri tapped the volume button.
“Two… one...”
BOOM!
Screams, though heavily muffled by gags, still make quite the racket for a moment, before Steve whirled around to gesture threateningly at his prisoners with his weapon, and snarled at them too for good measure. Once they'd quietened, he turned back to the camera.
“There’s plenty left, bunny. I can keep on at this all day. How much longer is it gonna take you and those stormtrooper buddies of yours to show up? Too scared, are ya? Well, let’s see how many more hostages I need to kill before those Tier One fuckers finally get pissed enough to order you to fight me, whether you want to or not.”
“Now that’s interesting...” Hijiri mused.
“He doesn’t know you’ve left the Empire?” Alejandro asked.
“So it would seem… which makes me wonder if this might actually not be a trap. It could be that he really hasn’t bothered regrouping with his allies before rushing out to challenge me like this.”
“Woah, woah,” Bernie held up his hands, fixing a stern look on the Rabbit “you’re not actually considering doing what he wants, are you? Even if he isn’t just pretending to be clueless and actually doesn’t have a tonne of backup, there’s gotta be some reason he thinks he can beat you, right?”
“Most likely because he almost killed me the last time we fought, I’d guess.” Hijiri said these words nonchalantly, as if they were no more relevant than a comment on the weather.
“He what?” Alejandro’s voice was almost a squeak.
“Don’t worry.” standing, the Battle Rabbit waved a hand dismissively, “I’ve grown much stronger since that day. He's no longer a threat.”
“Don’t just...” Alejandro began, before trailing off. He lowered his head, the angle of the wide-brimmed hat he wore completely obscuring his features now… though the fact that he clenched his fists made his opinions of this plan rather apparent. He sighed, “it doesn’t matter what I say, does it? You’ll go anyway, won’t you, sir?”
“Of course. I’m a public figure now… and I can’t very well go around claiming to be able to protect Northside if I let something like this very blatant massacre occur right under my nose… on the other hand, though, stopping it will make for an excellent advertisement.”
“Well, I’ll come with you, and we can bring-”
“No. I’ll get someone to drive me there, but that’s it. Everyone else still inside the Pillar is to remain here. Even if Steve hasn’t contacted his allies, it’s all but certain that they’ll hear about what he's doing before long. Sure, it's pretty likely that none of them will be watching channel sixty-five million and whatever it was right at this moment, but some other station or stations are bound to start reporting on this sooner or later, so they will notice eventually. When they do, I don’t want this place left under-defended. Got it?” as he spoke, the Rabbit strode over to the elevator which his two guests had just recently left.
“... Yes, sir.” the Spaniard’s words were forced through gritted teeth.
“Good. Phone someone on the lower levels and tell them to get a truck ready for me,” so saying, Hijiri swung open the lift’s door and stepped through, “I would make the call myself, but I want to keep an eye on this broadcast.”
***
“You three fuckwits nearly done with that, yet!? Time’s almost up! How long can it take you to tie the damn cattle in place!?” Shotgun Steve roared, glaring at his three skimpily-dressed Secondaries.
"Sorry, master." the girls chorused as they finished up their tasks. A couple moments later, the nearest of the trio to him, Bethanie, backed away from her charge and turned to face the Claw, smiling and gazing up at him with pure, guileless adoration in her eyes. Her bottom lip was split, from when the young man she’d just been tying up had managed to elbow her. “We’re done now, master.”
“About damn time.” the old Prime’s voice held not a trace of gratitude, yet that didn’t seem to bother the redhead or her companions in the slightest. All three backed up meekly, getting out of his way. Behind the bloodied table, three new hostages had been tied in the three seats which had once belonged to the news anchors… the bodies of the original hosts, along with the original victims of Arin & Steve’s attack, as well as the few others Steve had killed since then, were piled up further back, just beside the still-living hostages.
“Under a minute left now...” the lean, grizzled man turned his sneer upon the cameraman; the only Secondary not currently restrained… in exchange for helping them out, they’d promised to let him go when this was over. The first camera-guy they’d given that option to had tried to run almost as soon as he was free of the ribbons that bound him.
After seeing his friend shot in the back, the next one had been much more obedient.
“You hear that, bunny? You watchin’ yet? I’ll go over it again, in case you’ve just tuned in. I have… some amount of hostages... I didn’t bother to actually count the fuckers. And every ten minutes, until you show your stupid face, I’m gonna kill another one. So if you wanna be all heroic and shit then you'd better come on over here and fight me now, on live TV. I’m gonna show you, and everyone else in Tier Five, that no one fucks with Shotgun Steve! You got that!?”
Turning to the nearest of his prisoners—the feisty one who'd managed to strike Bethanie as she bound him—he saw the spiky-haired young man glaring up at him defiantly. The other two—a middle-aged guy and a grey-haired woman—were both sobbing quietly... but this little brat had some guts, it seemed.
Eleanor walked over, offering the Claw another shotgun plucked from the pile he had ordered the three to stack up between the desk and the hostages, as soon as they had gotten the rest of their little 'set' set up. He grabbed it from her without a word and shoved the one he had already been holding—both its shots spent now—into her grasp, pushing her back roughly in the process, though of course she made no complaint, instead muttering her thanks softly under her breath.
“Your time’s running out, boy.” Steve said smugly, completely ignoring his supporter as he pointed the loaded shotgun into the rebellious youth’s face… though he noticed as he did so that the kid had somehow managed to force the gag out of his mouth… no doubt Bethanie had failed to tie it tightly enough. Stupid fucking Secondary.
“That’s what your mum said.”
“... Ex…cuse me?” Steve was so taken aback by the audacity of this comment that for a moment that he just stood stock-still and blinked cluelessly at the speaker; it didn’t even occur to him to get mad.
“Yeah. I figured a two hour session would be more than long enough, but she was so fuck-ugly that I just couldn’t get off, no matter what... which I guess is what I deserve for hiring such a cheap whore.”
BOOM!
“Master, that one wasn’t due to die for another twen-” Lisanne spoke up softly, her gentle voice barely audible above the muffled shrieks of the pair next to the now-headless corpse
“I don’t fucking care!” the Prime took a couple deep breaths to calm himself, casting a surreptitious glance across at Arin (whose name he had finally got around to asking whilst they laid waste to the news station). The blue-haired man was gazing his way coldly. It was hard to tell with that enigmatic fucker, but Steve got the impression that he was unimpressed.
The Claw squared his shoulders, standing up a little straighter. He wasn’t happy about being seen to be goaded into something, but he wasn’t about to just sit back and take insults because of some self-imposed timer.
“Get this one onto the pile.” he spat on the corpse, as Bethanie rushed forwards and began to untie it, then he looked over at the next in line; the middle-aged man, who wore a suit, had short, blond hair and a receding hairline, “Just another ten minutes to go, then it’ll be your turn. I doubt that cowardly little bitch is even gonna show himse-”
Just then, from somewhere outside, there came a loud shriek of tyres.
***
The eighteen-wheeler noisily swerved to a halt, filling up the entire street. From its roof, where he had been standing for the entire journey, for the sole reason of looking cool and grabbing attention—what point was there in a publicity stunt that no one noticed, after all?—Hijiri jumped down to the ground, then rapped on the driver-side door, which swung open, revealing a thirty-something woman with short, auburn hair, dressed in a light grey boiler suit and matching flat cap... as well as one of the dark green and white armbands that marked her as a member of his gang.
“Good work. You can head back now. I’ll make my own way home after this is over.”
“Yes, sir.” she nodded curtly, then swung the door closed again.
The driver began turning to head back the way she had just come—to the tune of many blaring horns, as the other road users objected to being made to wait while the massive vehicle did a U-turn right in the middle of the road—and the Battle Rabbit strode through the entrance of the TV station.
It didn’t take him long to reach the room he was looking for; the rest of the station was completely empty, and it wasn’t that hard to follow Steve’s voice. On top of that, a guide came looking for him, which helped.
A red-haired woman with a pretty face and an hourglass figure, dressed in nothing more than a skimpy, black bikini. One of the ‘Elizabeth’ trio… now... if he could just remember what this one was called...
“Beth?” he asked casually. Not remotely concerned by her arrival. Even if she had been armed, overpowering her wouldn’t have taken him a moment… and as very clearly unarmed as she was—for there was no way that that outfit was concealing any weapons, after all—there was absolutely no need for concern, “Was that your name?”
She smiled pleasantly and nodded. He couldn’t know if Steve had summoned them with their memories of their deaths intact, but if so, it seemed that this girl at least held no grudge over the matter… he felt sorry for them, these poor creatures, with not even the freedom to think for themselves, “Master is expecting you, Mr Takanomiya. Please come this way.”
Without waiting for a response she turned and strode off. Sighing, he followed obediently after her. He knew that there was every chance Steve would attempt to use his puppets as meat shields again… and given what had happened last time, he now realised that, in all likelihood, Steve would succeed.
At some point in this fight, the Rabbit was sure, at least one of them would manage to take a blow meant for their master… which left him with two choices: he could treat them as civilians and act like he had failed by allowing them to come to harm; or he could act remorseless and insist that they were serving as accomplices, and so had gotten what was coming to them.
That latter option would leave a bad taste in his mouth, but it might be the only viable one. Seeming cold and uncaring wouldn’t make him loved, but it would at least give the impression of being ruthlessly efficient… the sort of person who could potentially keep Northside safe from the gangs. On the other hand, blaming himself for their injuries or deaths might make him seem compassionate, but it would also make him look inept. The sort of person who realised that avoiding unnecessary casualties should be a priority, but was just too weak to manage it.
“Welcome, at long last!” boomed Shotgun Steve the moment Hijiri had entered the room. The old guy spread his arms wide in greeting, though the impression was spoiled slightly by the fact that he was holding a double-barrel shotgun in each hand, “Glad you could finally join us, bunny…! Though… you seem to have forgotten your backup. What’s wrong, your stormtroopers too afraid to show themselves after what happened last time?”
“They’re dead.” the answer came cold and clipped.
“Huh?” this news seemed to genuinely surprise the Claw… it would appear he really hadn’t stopped to regroup with his allies before pulling this stupid stunt.
“Your friends killed them all while I was… away on business.”
“Huh. Haha. Hahaha! Well, great! It’s nice to see those fucking Secondaries manage to do something right for once. Now I’ll just take you down myself and that’ll be the end of it. This’ll be sure to let everyone know not to mess with the Wolfpack in future!” the old man grinned savagely at his quarry, not even sparing a glance for Bethanie as she walked past him to take her place by his pile of guns, along with the other couple of Steve’s girls.
Hijiri sighed, “As I expected. You’re still the same arrogant fool you were the first time we met. Did it really not occur to you that I might have gotten stronger since that time?”
“Hah! As if you could ever match me!” Steve swung forwards his two shotguns to point at the Battle Rabbit, who didn’t appear remotely fazed by the weapons, “You already forgot what happened last time we fought, bunny boy? I smashed your jaw to splinters with one punch, and you could barely even scratch me with that little knife o’ yours.”
The Rabbit only shrugged, “If you think you can match me now then hurry up and fire already.”
Snarling, Shotgun Steve obliged.
“What!?”
“Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got, Stevie?” Hijiri smirked, brushing lint from his right shoulder, after having just sidestepped to the left a tiny fraction of a second before the Claw had emptied his guns. As quick as he'd been back in his own world, the Rabbit was sure that by this point he must have managed to become even faster here.
He had run some tests in his spare time to work out exactly how quickly he could move, and by his reckoning, travelling a single metre in any direction, as he had just done, ought to require less than one thirty-fifth of a second, assuming he was moving at his maximum speed, as he had been. Dodging bullets themselves may still have been beyond his abilities, but moving aside just before the old man pulled his triggers, leaving him with too little time to adjust his aim? That was child’s play.
“You bastard! You think you can fucking mock me!?” the old Prime fired again, once more with both guns, and once again Hijiri darted left. The Claw's weapons had been loaded with shot, so in theory they ought to have more chance of hitting him than if they’d been firing slugs… it really made no difference, though.
“You’re too slow, old man… still, as entertaining as it would be to keep making a fool out of you all day… you’ve murdered a lot of people here. So I’m going to have to teach you a little lesson about what happens to raving mad lunatics who challenge my organisation.”
Steve sneered, then opened his mouth to respond, at the same moment that Hijiri raised his right hand. The grey-haired Prime froze, his eyes widening as a brightly shining, roughly pistol-shaped construct of pure, white light formed in the Rabbit’s grasp. Barely half a second after bursting into existence, the flare died down, revealing in its wake a large handgun with a primarily golden colour-scheme.
Hijiri held it out towards his nemesis, barrel pointed unerringly at the old guy’s chest. Steve took a step back, tongue running across his lips in a clear indication of his nervousness. It was all too apparent that he hadn’t actually believed the suit-clad Prime when the younger man had insisted that he had grown more powerful. He hadn’t expected at all for his opponent to have developed a means of fighting at range since they had last met.
As soon as the Claw had backed up a tiny bit, though, the Director relaxed. He drew back his weapon, held it in front of his face, barrel pointed straight up, and admired it, as if this were his first time laying eyes on the thing, “Since fighting you, Stevie, I’ve realised the folly of relying on a weapon that can simply be knocked out of my hands… and so I’ve improved my arsenal. Based on a concept from my home world, I've created for myself two ‘Heavenly Weapons’. One of which is the katana you’re familiar with… though nowadays I have no need to carry it around with me everywhere I go. The other is this beauty; the Mark Nineteen Fifty-Calibre Action Express Semi-Automatic Desert Eagle Handgun. I’ve always preferred fighting at close range, personally, but as powerful as some people in the Omniverse are, it seems silly to restrict myself, you know?”
The gun descended, to point at the Claw once more. Shotgun Steve glowered. He released his grip, allowing his two empty firearms to clatter noisily to the floor. Hijiri did not react. Two of Steve’s supporters, kneeling on the ground by his sides—Eleanor and Lisanne, to his left and right, respectively—grabbed fresh shotguns from the pile behind him and slid those into his hands. Still the Battle Rabbit made no move. Worried mumbles and moans came from a few of the hostages; that being about as close as they could get to actual conversation in their current, gagged state.
Hijiri smiled a little. Back home, he could never have let himself fool around with an opponent in this way. Killing Ogres was all business, no pleasure. The moment they detected any hint of negative emotion, they would slip inside the mind of their would-be hunter and attempt to take possession of their body… even for the most powerful of Battle Rabbits, they were dangerous foes to face… in this reality, though, they didn’t exist. All he had to worry about here were humans like this man… this man who had once ripped the arm of a friend of Hijiri’s right out of its socket, whilst the Rabbit watched. This man whose allies had butchered everyone he had developed any sort of attachment to within the Empire.
This prick was going to die. And he was going to die slowly.
Shotgun Steve quickly raised his arms, intent on bringing those powerful guns to bear.
Hijiri shot him in the left kneecap.
The old man screamed, dropping his weapons and falling to the ground, clutching at his injury.
“Master!” the Elizabeth women cried in unison, rushing to his side. Gathering around him, they all tried to hold the old Prime at once, doing what little they could to help... though given that they seemed to be doing absolutely nothing constructive at all, Hijiri guessed that they lacked any sort of medical knowledge. He couldn’t exactly claim to be surprised by this discovery; based on what he already knew about the man, he could safely say that Shotgun Steve considered the very idea of competent Secondaries to be somehow offensive to his sensibilities.
Still, competent or not, bundled around him as they were, the young women would have a fair chance of placing themselves in the way of any more bullets the Battle Rabbit fired… he could hardly just let this enemy live, though, not after what he had done here...
“Shotgun Steve will die today. If you value your lives, back away now.” he knew it was futile, but for the sake of their audience, he had to at least give them the choice before opening fire. Instead of retreating, of course, the three draped themselves across their groaning master’s body, glaring defiantly up at the Battle Rabbit, resolved to give their lives for Steve, even if all they could achieve by doing so would be to buy him a few extra seconds of suffering before his demise.
Hijiri sighed, steeling himself for the unsavoury task put before him, “Very well. So be it.”
He raised the Desert Eagle once more.
“Yeah, just a second. Take a seat.” with his right hand, Hijiri waved vaguely across at a black, leather couch on the other side of the large, ovoid, maple wood table at which he sat, in his equally black and leathery armchair. With his left, he continued what he'd been doing prior to their arrival; typing up a Dataverse message.
Once finished with that, he slid his phone back into a pocket and faced them, where they now sat. He had at first given the pair fancy outfits to wear for the gang’s début, four days prior, solely to make them stand out more in front of the cameras if any reporters showed up – as they ultimately had done – but both seemed pleased with the ridiculous gifts, and had opted to continue wearing them since: Bernie in what he had taken to calling his ‘robes of office’, and Alejandro in his leather & chainmail getup.
The Rabbit’s gaze settled on his Head of Security first, “So. The Wolfpack. Any updates, Alejandro?”
“Yeah. Yes, sir, I mean. They’re definitely preparing to hit us hard, there’s no doubt about it anymore. The few other small gangs and all the independent criminals within miles of the Pillar have cleared out. For the time being, at least. No one wants to get caught up in this. Word on the street is that we’re totally fucked. They’re gonna hit us with everything they have… and they’re not making any secret out of it either. There’s no way their plans could have become such common knowledge if they actually wanted to keep things under wraps. I’d guess the idea is that by letting the info out that they’re working on something big, they avoid looking afraid in the meantime,” the Spaniard shrugged, “it certainly doesn’t seem like anyone believes they’re frightened of us, anyway.”
“Pity.” the Prime mused. It would have been nice for the NSW to rush in unprepared and get torn apart by his new Base’s defences… or to make their preparations in absolute secrecy, and have everyone thinking that they weren’t up to accepting his challenge. Sadly, it seemed at least one person on their side was bright enough to consider the consequences of their actions.
“It doesn’t make that big a difference, though. While it would have been preferable for them to do something stupid, it’ll all work out the same in the end.”
The two men on the other side of the table glanced at one another and then back at the Prime, who couldn’t have been more at ease.
“You’re... sure?” Alejandro asked. Despite the fact that his face could barely even be seen behind the high collar of his coat and the extremely wide-brimmed hat he wore, his awkward fidgeting made it clear that he wasn’t at all comfortable questioning the Battle Rabbit. It was a sign of how seriously he was taking this threat that he was willing to speak up at all.
“Yes. Don’t worry. I’ve… discovered something, recently.” Hijiri looked at his right hand and flexed his fingers experimentally, as though unfamiliar with them, “I’ve grown a lot stronger since coming here, to the Omniverse, and at some point I reached I tipping point… I can now make use of my most powerful form, becoming something far beyond a normal Battle Rabbit. Don’t worry. The Northside Wolfpack are no longer a concern. Even out in the open, I could probably defeat them… within the Pillar, they'll not even pose a challenge.”
“Uh…” for a moment, the Spaniard hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he smiled, reassured by the Director’s fearlessness, “of course, sir. I can’t wait to see this new form in action.”
The Rabbit smirked, “When you do, make sure you watch closely… it can be a little hard to keep track of.”
He turned to the man in the garish purple, yellow, red & white outfit; their Treasurer, “And how’s it been going on your end?”
“All good, yeah,” Bernie puffed himself up, sticking out his chest a little in some sort of attempt at appearing important, “That tax guy from the Empire is still here, though it shouldn’t take him much longer to look through everything… it seems like they’re gonna be charging a lot, though… you’re definitely alright with that?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it. It shouldn’t be too hard to find some sleazy officials on Tier Four who can be bribed into lowering our tax band or whatever, if need be. Though to be honest, I expect we’ll be able to make a comfortable enough profit to easily pay the Empire off… and staying on their good side is essential. If they start sending squads of Space Marines down here then we’re fucked.”
“Speaking of profit, Director, ” Bernie began, licking his lips nervously and wringing his hands, “you haven’t actually said much about how we’re going to be earning all this money. I mean, I know that we’re going to be working as some sort of private security firm, but-”
The Rabbit held up a hand and Bernie clamped his mouth shut immediately, “We’re going to be pretending to be a private security firm. We’re going to be yakuza.”
“What now?” the Treasurer asked, blinking cluelessly.
“Gangsters, Bernie. Little different from the rest of the groups around here, except that we’ll have better PR. The private security thing is just a cover. It’ll give us a seemingly acceptable reason to take money from everyone in any neighbourhood in our domain… it’s basically just a protection racket, except that we openly admit to doing it and pretend that employing our services is voluntary… if we do a really good job then it’s possible even the people we’re racketeering won’t realise they’re victims of a crime.”
“Oh… but… didn’t you say that you were a member of the Empire Peace Division because you wanted to protect people? I-I mean, I’m not complaining, but I just thought, y’know...”
Hijiri frowned, then sighed, “Yes, the EPD… I had high hopes for them at one point, before I realised how corrupt the Empire really was. The EPD on Tier Five are a symbol to remind people that the Emperor is still in charge, nothing more… and my attempts at expanding that role were shot down. Tier Five is far away enough away from Palpatine's seat of power that they barely even care about policing it. So long as there isn’t anyone who might actually pose them a threat down here, they’re content to leave it as it is.”
He paused to regard them both in silence for a moment, “I am not, though. Even though we will be acting outside the law, at least in part, we’ll still have honour… that’s what it means to be yakuza. Yes, we’ll charge them protection fees… but then, if the time comes that they actually need protecting, we will protect them.”
Bernie opened his mouth to respond, but just then Alejandro’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of a pocket and answered. Now that they were acting the part of a big business, Hijiri had thought it best that they all have ways of communicating with each other… plus, with all the other technology he’d put in this place – including turrets, a teleportation system and even a machine that could somehow upload people directly into the Dataverse – it hardly made sense to not spend a little extra to get the crew some phones.
“Yeah? Yeah. What is it, then...? Larry watches the news? Huh... okay, sure... yeah, I will do. Thanks.” Alejandro’s side of his conversation was not hugely informative.
“Anything important?” the Rabbit asked once he had hung up, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Check out the broadcast on channel sixty-five million, seven hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and forty-three. You should see this.”
Fishing his smartphone back out of his pocket, Hijiri began typing, “Sixty-five million, seven hundred and thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and forty-three? There aren’t half a lot of these stations around, huh?”
“You’ve got no idea, sir. Check out Dataverse TV sometime. It has every channel, on demand, plus a whole bunch of amateur crap… it’s insane how much of this shit we have in the Omniverse… especially considering half the people living here come from weird fantasy worlds that don’t even have TVs.”
“Ah.” Hijiri had found the station. Even on the small screen of the Mobile Dataverse Device, the man he was looking at was unmistakable… as were the three Secondaries behind him, “Him.”
“He’s been mentioning your name, apparently.” Alejandro commented, looking down at his own phone, whilst Bernie glanced over at it as well, too lazy to get his out his pocket and find the channel himself.
Shotgun Steve was standing behind a blood-spattered desk, speaking, though the sound was off, currently. He held in his right hand a shotgun pressed to the head of a white-haired, old man—bound and gagged with some sort of blue fabric—who was presumably some sort of news anchor. He looked absolutely terrified, unsurprisingly. There were a couple empty seats as well, to the host’s right.
Further back, behind the Northside Wolfpack's Fourth 'Claw' and the three bikini-clad, fanatically loyal members of his support team—‘Elizabeth’—were a huddled mass of hostages and corpses.
Hijiri tapped the volume button.
“Two… one...”
BOOM!
Screams, though heavily muffled by gags, still make quite the racket for a moment, before Steve whirled around to gesture threateningly at his prisoners with his weapon, and snarled at them too for good measure. Once they'd quietened, he turned back to the camera.
“There’s plenty left, bunny. I can keep on at this all day. How much longer is it gonna take you and those stormtrooper buddies of yours to show up? Too scared, are ya? Well, let’s see how many more hostages I need to kill before those Tier One fuckers finally get pissed enough to order you to fight me, whether you want to or not.”
“Now that’s interesting...” Hijiri mused.
“He doesn’t know you’ve left the Empire?” Alejandro asked.
“So it would seem… which makes me wonder if this might actually not be a trap. It could be that he really hasn’t bothered regrouping with his allies before rushing out to challenge me like this.”
“Woah, woah,” Bernie held up his hands, fixing a stern look on the Rabbit “you’re not actually considering doing what he wants, are you? Even if he isn’t just pretending to be clueless and actually doesn’t have a tonne of backup, there’s gotta be some reason he thinks he can beat you, right?”
“Most likely because he almost killed me the last time we fought, I’d guess.” Hijiri said these words nonchalantly, as if they were no more relevant than a comment on the weather.
“He what?” Alejandro’s voice was almost a squeak.
“Don’t worry.” standing, the Battle Rabbit waved a hand dismissively, “I’ve grown much stronger since that day. He's no longer a threat.”
“Don’t just...” Alejandro began, before trailing off. He lowered his head, the angle of the wide-brimmed hat he wore completely obscuring his features now… though the fact that he clenched his fists made his opinions of this plan rather apparent. He sighed, “it doesn’t matter what I say, does it? You’ll go anyway, won’t you, sir?”
“Of course. I’m a public figure now… and I can’t very well go around claiming to be able to protect Northside if I let something like this very blatant massacre occur right under my nose… on the other hand, though, stopping it will make for an excellent advertisement.”
“Well, I’ll come with you, and we can bring-”
“No. I’ll get someone to drive me there, but that’s it. Everyone else still inside the Pillar is to remain here. Even if Steve hasn’t contacted his allies, it’s all but certain that they’ll hear about what he's doing before long. Sure, it's pretty likely that none of them will be watching channel sixty-five million and whatever it was right at this moment, but some other station or stations are bound to start reporting on this sooner or later, so they will notice eventually. When they do, I don’t want this place left under-defended. Got it?” as he spoke, the Rabbit strode over to the elevator which his two guests had just recently left.
“... Yes, sir.” the Spaniard’s words were forced through gritted teeth.
“Good. Phone someone on the lower levels and tell them to get a truck ready for me,” so saying, Hijiri swung open the lift’s door and stepped through, “I would make the call myself, but I want to keep an eye on this broadcast.”
***
“You three fuckwits nearly done with that, yet!? Time’s almost up! How long can it take you to tie the damn cattle in place!?” Shotgun Steve roared, glaring at his three skimpily-dressed Secondaries.
"Sorry, master." the girls chorused as they finished up their tasks. A couple moments later, the nearest of the trio to him, Bethanie, backed away from her charge and turned to face the Claw, smiling and gazing up at him with pure, guileless adoration in her eyes. Her bottom lip was split, from when the young man she’d just been tying up had managed to elbow her. “We’re done now, master.”
“About damn time.” the old Prime’s voice held not a trace of gratitude, yet that didn’t seem to bother the redhead or her companions in the slightest. All three backed up meekly, getting out of his way. Behind the bloodied table, three new hostages had been tied in the three seats which had once belonged to the news anchors… the bodies of the original hosts, along with the original victims of Arin & Steve’s attack, as well as the few others Steve had killed since then, were piled up further back, just beside the still-living hostages.
“Under a minute left now...” the lean, grizzled man turned his sneer upon the cameraman; the only Secondary not currently restrained… in exchange for helping them out, they’d promised to let him go when this was over. The first camera-guy they’d given that option to had tried to run almost as soon as he was free of the ribbons that bound him.
After seeing his friend shot in the back, the next one had been much more obedient.
“You hear that, bunny? You watchin’ yet? I’ll go over it again, in case you’ve just tuned in. I have… some amount of hostages... I didn’t bother to actually count the fuckers. And every ten minutes, until you show your stupid face, I’m gonna kill another one. So if you wanna be all heroic and shit then you'd better come on over here and fight me now, on live TV. I’m gonna show you, and everyone else in Tier Five, that no one fucks with Shotgun Steve! You got that!?”
Turning to the nearest of his prisoners—the feisty one who'd managed to strike Bethanie as she bound him—he saw the spiky-haired young man glaring up at him defiantly. The other two—a middle-aged guy and a grey-haired woman—were both sobbing quietly... but this little brat had some guts, it seemed.
Eleanor walked over, offering the Claw another shotgun plucked from the pile he had ordered the three to stack up between the desk and the hostages, as soon as they had gotten the rest of their little 'set' set up. He grabbed it from her without a word and shoved the one he had already been holding—both its shots spent now—into her grasp, pushing her back roughly in the process, though of course she made no complaint, instead muttering her thanks softly under her breath.
“Your time’s running out, boy.” Steve said smugly, completely ignoring his supporter as he pointed the loaded shotgun into the rebellious youth’s face… though he noticed as he did so that the kid had somehow managed to force the gag out of his mouth… no doubt Bethanie had failed to tie it tightly enough. Stupid fucking Secondary.
“That’s what your mum said.”
“... Ex…cuse me?” Steve was so taken aback by the audacity of this comment that for a moment that he just stood stock-still and blinked cluelessly at the speaker; it didn’t even occur to him to get mad.
“Yeah. I figured a two hour session would be more than long enough, but she was so fuck-ugly that I just couldn’t get off, no matter what... which I guess is what I deserve for hiring such a cheap whore.”
BOOM!
“Master, that one wasn’t due to die for another twen-” Lisanne spoke up softly, her gentle voice barely audible above the muffled shrieks of the pair next to the now-headless corpse
“I don’t fucking care!” the Prime took a couple deep breaths to calm himself, casting a surreptitious glance across at Arin (whose name he had finally got around to asking whilst they laid waste to the news station). The blue-haired man was gazing his way coldly. It was hard to tell with that enigmatic fucker, but Steve got the impression that he was unimpressed.
The Claw squared his shoulders, standing up a little straighter. He wasn’t happy about being seen to be goaded into something, but he wasn’t about to just sit back and take insults because of some self-imposed timer.
“Get this one onto the pile.” he spat on the corpse, as Bethanie rushed forwards and began to untie it, then he looked over at the next in line; the middle-aged man, who wore a suit, had short, blond hair and a receding hairline, “Just another ten minutes to go, then it’ll be your turn. I doubt that cowardly little bitch is even gonna show himse-”
Just then, from somewhere outside, there came a loud shriek of tyres.
***
The eighteen-wheeler noisily swerved to a halt, filling up the entire street. From its roof, where he had been standing for the entire journey, for the sole reason of looking cool and grabbing attention—what point was there in a publicity stunt that no one noticed, after all?—Hijiri jumped down to the ground, then rapped on the driver-side door, which swung open, revealing a thirty-something woman with short, auburn hair, dressed in a light grey boiler suit and matching flat cap... as well as one of the dark green and white armbands that marked her as a member of his gang.
“Good work. You can head back now. I’ll make my own way home after this is over.”
“Yes, sir.” she nodded curtly, then swung the door closed again.
The driver began turning to head back the way she had just come—to the tune of many blaring horns, as the other road users objected to being made to wait while the massive vehicle did a U-turn right in the middle of the road—and the Battle Rabbit strode through the entrance of the TV station.
It didn’t take him long to reach the room he was looking for; the rest of the station was completely empty, and it wasn’t that hard to follow Steve’s voice. On top of that, a guide came looking for him, which helped.
A red-haired woman with a pretty face and an hourglass figure, dressed in nothing more than a skimpy, black bikini. One of the ‘Elizabeth’ trio… now... if he could just remember what this one was called...
“Beth?” he asked casually. Not remotely concerned by her arrival. Even if she had been armed, overpowering her wouldn’t have taken him a moment… and as very clearly unarmed as she was—for there was no way that that outfit was concealing any weapons, after all—there was absolutely no need for concern, “Was that your name?”
She smiled pleasantly and nodded. He couldn’t know if Steve had summoned them with their memories of their deaths intact, but if so, it seemed that this girl at least held no grudge over the matter… he felt sorry for them, these poor creatures, with not even the freedom to think for themselves, “Master is expecting you, Mr Takanomiya. Please come this way.”
Without waiting for a response she turned and strode off. Sighing, he followed obediently after her. He knew that there was every chance Steve would attempt to use his puppets as meat shields again… and given what had happened last time, he now realised that, in all likelihood, Steve would succeed.
At some point in this fight, the Rabbit was sure, at least one of them would manage to take a blow meant for their master… which left him with two choices: he could treat them as civilians and act like he had failed by allowing them to come to harm; or he could act remorseless and insist that they were serving as accomplices, and so had gotten what was coming to them.
That latter option would leave a bad taste in his mouth, but it might be the only viable one. Seeming cold and uncaring wouldn’t make him loved, but it would at least give the impression of being ruthlessly efficient… the sort of person who could potentially keep Northside safe from the gangs. On the other hand, blaming himself for their injuries or deaths might make him seem compassionate, but it would also make him look inept. The sort of person who realised that avoiding unnecessary casualties should be a priority, but was just too weak to manage it.
“Welcome, at long last!” boomed Shotgun Steve the moment Hijiri had entered the room. The old guy spread his arms wide in greeting, though the impression was spoiled slightly by the fact that he was holding a double-barrel shotgun in each hand, “Glad you could finally join us, bunny…! Though… you seem to have forgotten your backup. What’s wrong, your stormtroopers too afraid to show themselves after what happened last time?”
“They’re dead.” the answer came cold and clipped.
“Huh?” this news seemed to genuinely surprise the Claw… it would appear he really hadn’t stopped to regroup with his allies before pulling this stupid stunt.
“Your friends killed them all while I was… away on business.”
“Huh. Haha. Hahaha! Well, great! It’s nice to see those fucking Secondaries manage to do something right for once. Now I’ll just take you down myself and that’ll be the end of it. This’ll be sure to let everyone know not to mess with the Wolfpack in future!” the old man grinned savagely at his quarry, not even sparing a glance for Bethanie as she walked past him to take her place by his pile of guns, along with the other couple of Steve’s girls.
Hijiri sighed, “As I expected. You’re still the same arrogant fool you were the first time we met. Did it really not occur to you that I might have gotten stronger since that time?”
“Hah! As if you could ever match me!” Steve swung forwards his two shotguns to point at the Battle Rabbit, who didn’t appear remotely fazed by the weapons, “You already forgot what happened last time we fought, bunny boy? I smashed your jaw to splinters with one punch, and you could barely even scratch me with that little knife o’ yours.”
The Rabbit only shrugged, “If you think you can match me now then hurry up and fire already.”
Snarling, Shotgun Steve obliged.
“What!?”
“Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got, Stevie?” Hijiri smirked, brushing lint from his right shoulder, after having just sidestepped to the left a tiny fraction of a second before the Claw had emptied his guns. As quick as he'd been back in his own world, the Rabbit was sure that by this point he must have managed to become even faster here.
He had run some tests in his spare time to work out exactly how quickly he could move, and by his reckoning, travelling a single metre in any direction, as he had just done, ought to require less than one thirty-fifth of a second, assuming he was moving at his maximum speed, as he had been. Dodging bullets themselves may still have been beyond his abilities, but moving aside just before the old man pulled his triggers, leaving him with too little time to adjust his aim? That was child’s play.
“You bastard! You think you can fucking mock me!?” the old Prime fired again, once more with both guns, and once again Hijiri darted left. The Claw's weapons had been loaded with shot, so in theory they ought to have more chance of hitting him than if they’d been firing slugs… it really made no difference, though.
“You’re too slow, old man… still, as entertaining as it would be to keep making a fool out of you all day… you’ve murdered a lot of people here. So I’m going to have to teach you a little lesson about what happens to raving mad lunatics who challenge my organisation.”
Steve sneered, then opened his mouth to respond, at the same moment that Hijiri raised his right hand. The grey-haired Prime froze, his eyes widening as a brightly shining, roughly pistol-shaped construct of pure, white light formed in the Rabbit’s grasp. Barely half a second after bursting into existence, the flare died down, revealing in its wake a large handgun with a primarily golden colour-scheme.
Hijiri held it out towards his nemesis, barrel pointed unerringly at the old guy’s chest. Steve took a step back, tongue running across his lips in a clear indication of his nervousness. It was all too apparent that he hadn’t actually believed the suit-clad Prime when the younger man had insisted that he had grown more powerful. He hadn’t expected at all for his opponent to have developed a means of fighting at range since they had last met.
As soon as the Claw had backed up a tiny bit, though, the Director relaxed. He drew back his weapon, held it in front of his face, barrel pointed straight up, and admired it, as if this were his first time laying eyes on the thing, “Since fighting you, Stevie, I’ve realised the folly of relying on a weapon that can simply be knocked out of my hands… and so I’ve improved my arsenal. Based on a concept from my home world, I've created for myself two ‘Heavenly Weapons’. One of which is the katana you’re familiar with… though nowadays I have no need to carry it around with me everywhere I go. The other is this beauty; the Mark Nineteen Fifty-Calibre Action Express Semi-Automatic Desert Eagle Handgun. I’ve always preferred fighting at close range, personally, but as powerful as some people in the Omniverse are, it seems silly to restrict myself, you know?”
The gun descended, to point at the Claw once more. Shotgun Steve glowered. He released his grip, allowing his two empty firearms to clatter noisily to the floor. Hijiri did not react. Two of Steve’s supporters, kneeling on the ground by his sides—Eleanor and Lisanne, to his left and right, respectively—grabbed fresh shotguns from the pile behind him and slid those into his hands. Still the Battle Rabbit made no move. Worried mumbles and moans came from a few of the hostages; that being about as close as they could get to actual conversation in their current, gagged state.
Hijiri smiled a little. Back home, he could never have let himself fool around with an opponent in this way. Killing Ogres was all business, no pleasure. The moment they detected any hint of negative emotion, they would slip inside the mind of their would-be hunter and attempt to take possession of their body… even for the most powerful of Battle Rabbits, they were dangerous foes to face… in this reality, though, they didn’t exist. All he had to worry about here were humans like this man… this man who had once ripped the arm of a friend of Hijiri’s right out of its socket, whilst the Rabbit watched. This man whose allies had butchered everyone he had developed any sort of attachment to within the Empire.
This prick was going to die. And he was going to die slowly.
Shotgun Steve quickly raised his arms, intent on bringing those powerful guns to bear.
Hijiri shot him in the left kneecap.
The old man screamed, dropping his weapons and falling to the ground, clutching at his injury.
“Master!” the Elizabeth women cried in unison, rushing to his side. Gathering around him, they all tried to hold the old Prime at once, doing what little they could to help... though given that they seemed to be doing absolutely nothing constructive at all, Hijiri guessed that they lacked any sort of medical knowledge. He couldn’t exactly claim to be surprised by this discovery; based on what he already knew about the man, he could safely say that Shotgun Steve considered the very idea of competent Secondaries to be somehow offensive to his sensibilities.
Still, competent or not, bundled around him as they were, the young women would have a fair chance of placing themselves in the way of any more bullets the Battle Rabbit fired… he could hardly just let this enemy live, though, not after what he had done here...
“Shotgun Steve will die today. If you value your lives, back away now.” he knew it was futile, but for the sake of their audience, he had to at least give them the choice before opening fire. Instead of retreating, of course, the three draped themselves across their groaning master’s body, glaring defiantly up at the Battle Rabbit, resolved to give their lives for Steve, even if all they could achieve by doing so would be to buy him a few extra seconds of suffering before his demise.
Hijiri sighed, steeling himself for the unsavoury task put before him, “Very well. So be it.”
He raised the Desert Eagle once more.
![[Image: Hijiri_Name_Sig.png]](https://image.ibb.co/k1H7Hd/Hijiri_Name_Sig.png)