07-08-2018, 05:27 AM
Fenrir managed to turn and raise an arm in time to block the downward strike. Hijiri had put in all the strength he could muster, plus the added weight from a few seconds of charging his gravity manipulation. Against any ordinary foe, no matter how muscle-bound, the blade would have passed straight through flesh, muscle and bone, to slice the limb neatly from their body.
Against the Jarl, it didn’t even break his skin. The katana bounced off. Momentarily taken aback, Hijiri blinked in surprise. His shock didn't last long; he wasn’t even standing still for a full second. It was still enough time for the hulking norseman. The Rabbit turned, trying to dodge the moment the bigger man lunged. He wasn’t quite able to get aside quickly enough, and Fenrir’s fist struck him in the ribs, sending the Director flying, then tumbling across the ground.
Once he ceased rolling, still gasping for breath, Hijiri forced himself up onto all fours, wincing at the sudden, shooting pain in his chest. It might have been a fractured rib, or a broken one. The Jarl laughed at seeing his opponent struggling. A few foolhardy gangsters hacked at him with their katanas, achieving absolutely nothing. He reached out, casually, grabbed a pair of them by their skulls, and lifted them up into the air.
Slowly, but without seeming to exert himself in the slightest, Fenrir tightened his grip. They screamed. Dropping their weapons, the pair clawed and scrabbled at his hands and fingers in vain attempts at breaking free. The Rabbit staggered upright.
With loud crunches, their skulls broke. They weren’t dead just yet, though, and their agonised shrieks continued, as the rest of the group hurriedly backed off, terror in their eyes. As he continued squeezing, slowly pulping their brains, they finally perished. It was abundantly clear to them all that their fates lay solely upon the Battle Rabbit’s shoulders. If he couldn’t put down this monster then none of them could, no matter their numbers.
Hijiri charged, desperately trying to push his power to build up faster, to reach a level far greater than before, to allow him to strike with force far beyond anything he had ever managed up until now. It was abundantly clear that without exceeding his limits, he could not hope to take down this brute. He grit his teeth, as the strain of abusing his ability in this manner sent a spasm of pain through his head.
He raised his blade, and brought it down, unleashing this tremendous power for the first time. A devastating might that was almost beyond comprehension. A level of weight that was without doubt enough to cleave any foe in twin.
For all his speed, though, the angle of attack was rather predictable, as his gravitation manipulation could only really boost the strength of blows from above. As a result, it was no great surprise that the Jarl managed to raise an arm to block. He was smirking; absolutely sure that Hijiri could not possibly hurt him.
When the blade tore into his flesh, then stuck in the bone of his forearm, he was momentarily paralysed by shock. Blood spattered, droplets covering both of the already drenched combattants.
The brute recovered before the Director, though. Hijiri—expecting a one-shot-kill—was dumbstruck at finding that even by exerting himself this much, he could not fell this foe. Roaring with the effort of pushing aside the tremendously heavy blade, Fenrir nonetheless managed to force the Rabbit back, and at the same time wrench the weapon from his grasp. It fell to the floor with a clatter, its vast weight vanishing the moment it left his grip.
Enraged at actually being harmed by someone, the Jarl’s lips peeled back in a snarl. He paused, though, when Hijiri held out a hand and the discarded blade vanished in a flash of white light. The Rabbit then leapt backwards, a good dozen metres or so.
His enemy roared, and charged, but despite his surprise the Director was not the sort to let himself be ruled by emotion in this sort of way. He calmly recreated his katana—now returned to its scabbard—unsheathed it, and darted forward to meet Fenrir head on.
This time, he put everything he had left into the new technique, Overcharging the gravitation effect to heights even beyond his first attempt. As he raised the katana high, the Battle Rabbit felt a sudden rush of weariness and stumbled, almost tripping for a moment. But he caught himself, and brought down his weapon, a wordless battlecry escaping his throat as gravity warped and the sword's weight increased exponentially.
This time, Fenrir held both arms over his head. He couldn’t hope to dodge the strike of a Prime with such unsurpassable speed as Hijiri, so he simply sought to bull rush him, betting that the Director would exhaust himself with this blow, and wouldn’t be fit to dodge after the Jarl took it and carried on charging. Hijiri would be run right over, crushed into the ground by this titan in human form that was bearing down on him.
He was almost correct. He had thought that the first strike he had endured had been the Rabbit’s most fearsome offensive. He hadn’t imagined that Hijiri could potentially push himself even further, to draw out even greater power in his time of need. In fairness, this was hardly a baseless assumption, as neither had Hijiri; it came as a surprise to them both. The Rabbit had managed, though, and when the blade came down this time, it was with truly immense force behind it.
The katana’s sharp edge cleaved through muscle like it wasn’t there, and even the bones of Fenrir’s forearms barely slowed it. He fell to his knees as the absurd weight of the blade that had just embedded itself in his skull bore down on him. For a moment, there was utter silence.
The crowd simply stared at the Director, standing before the kneeling brute, both hands on the hilt of the sword which had cleaved his head in half almost to the base of his nose. With his brain neatly bisected, there could be little doubt that Jarl Fenrir was dead. And yet they waited, the entire crowd holding its breath, not daring to believe that it might actually be over.
Hijiri collapsed against his foe, then, too exhausted to even stay on his feet for even a second longer, and the corpse topped to one side. That broke the spell, and a tumult broke out. Some people cheered—so relieved to be alive that they found exuberance, despite the death all around them—whilst others shouted for help and rushed about searching the dead for friends and loved ones who perhaps had only been wounded and might still be saved.
Hijiri was barely conscious, and so had little trouble ignoring the clamour. He noticed when someone knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, though.
“Sir, what would you have us do?” Alejandro asked. He was always trying so hard to sound to sound professional lately, that one. Having an actual job title seemed to be going to his head.
“You’re in charge... take care of things.” the Battle Rabbit groaned, knowing he was in no fit state to lead anyone right now, and then promptly passed out.
***
The Spaniard shouted for silence. It didn’t work.
So he rounded up a few of his friends and they all started yelling, until everyone else had shut up. The surviving medics more or less ignored them, though. They stopped speaking, and cast a lot of glares their way, but otherwise continued ferrying injured gangsters across to the lifts as quickly as possible... even in situations where moving them in such an incautious manner was extremely inadvisable, given their extremely delicate conditions. Their hearts were in the right place, but without having any idea what they were actually doing, it was fair to say that plenty of mistakes were made.
Alejandro reluctantly entrusted them with Hijiri, and ordered some others to stay and help with the injured and the subsequent cleanup. The bulk of the survivors, though, he took down below, to the garage level where they kept their four eighteen-wheeler trucks. After loading everyone into the vehicles, they set off, driving out through the stairs, which pulled back and rearranged themselves at their approach.
They split up, their trucks heading off down different streets. They could hardly do a complete sweep of Northside with so few vehicles, but they could keep their eyes peeled for any fleeing gangsters in NSW colours… as they made their way to the rival gang’s now-undefended bases.
Hijiri wanted to protect Northside from the horrors of gang warfare, but for that to be done, they would have to make it abundantly clear to everyone that the Takanomiya Group was the supreme fighting force in the northern quadrant, a paramilitary organisation without equal; an insurmountable opponent to face. And that would require a powerful message.
This battle, which had resulted in the deaths of the NSW’s entire leadership, would be a good start… but alone, Alejandro Torres did not believe that it would be enough to stamp out all opposition. In order to convince the remaining Wolfpack members to give up all hopes of resisting them—as well as convince those kids in the Northside Pyros to not even bother trying—they’d need to make it clear to everyone the consequences of opposing them.
They’d burn down the bases, along with any of the fleeing gangsters who’d managed to return to take shelter within them by the time they arrived. After today, there would be no doubt throughout the criminal underworld about who ran Northside.
Against the Jarl, it didn’t even break his skin. The katana bounced off. Momentarily taken aback, Hijiri blinked in surprise. His shock didn't last long; he wasn’t even standing still for a full second. It was still enough time for the hulking norseman. The Rabbit turned, trying to dodge the moment the bigger man lunged. He wasn’t quite able to get aside quickly enough, and Fenrir’s fist struck him in the ribs, sending the Director flying, then tumbling across the ground.
Once he ceased rolling, still gasping for breath, Hijiri forced himself up onto all fours, wincing at the sudden, shooting pain in his chest. It might have been a fractured rib, or a broken one. The Jarl laughed at seeing his opponent struggling. A few foolhardy gangsters hacked at him with their katanas, achieving absolutely nothing. He reached out, casually, grabbed a pair of them by their skulls, and lifted them up into the air.
Slowly, but without seeming to exert himself in the slightest, Fenrir tightened his grip. They screamed. Dropping their weapons, the pair clawed and scrabbled at his hands and fingers in vain attempts at breaking free. The Rabbit staggered upright.
With loud crunches, their skulls broke. They weren’t dead just yet, though, and their agonised shrieks continued, as the rest of the group hurriedly backed off, terror in their eyes. As he continued squeezing, slowly pulping their brains, they finally perished. It was abundantly clear to them all that their fates lay solely upon the Battle Rabbit’s shoulders. If he couldn’t put down this monster then none of them could, no matter their numbers.
Hijiri charged, desperately trying to push his power to build up faster, to reach a level far greater than before, to allow him to strike with force far beyond anything he had ever managed up until now. It was abundantly clear that without exceeding his limits, he could not hope to take down this brute. He grit his teeth, as the strain of abusing his ability in this manner sent a spasm of pain through his head.
He raised his blade, and brought it down, unleashing this tremendous power for the first time. A devastating might that was almost beyond comprehension. A level of weight that was without doubt enough to cleave any foe in twin.
For all his speed, though, the angle of attack was rather predictable, as his gravitation manipulation could only really boost the strength of blows from above. As a result, it was no great surprise that the Jarl managed to raise an arm to block. He was smirking; absolutely sure that Hijiri could not possibly hurt him.
When the blade tore into his flesh, then stuck in the bone of his forearm, he was momentarily paralysed by shock. Blood spattered, droplets covering both of the already drenched combattants.
The brute recovered before the Director, though. Hijiri—expecting a one-shot-kill—was dumbstruck at finding that even by exerting himself this much, he could not fell this foe. Roaring with the effort of pushing aside the tremendously heavy blade, Fenrir nonetheless managed to force the Rabbit back, and at the same time wrench the weapon from his grasp. It fell to the floor with a clatter, its vast weight vanishing the moment it left his grip.
Enraged at actually being harmed by someone, the Jarl’s lips peeled back in a snarl. He paused, though, when Hijiri held out a hand and the discarded blade vanished in a flash of white light. The Rabbit then leapt backwards, a good dozen metres or so.
His enemy roared, and charged, but despite his surprise the Director was not the sort to let himself be ruled by emotion in this sort of way. He calmly recreated his katana—now returned to its scabbard—unsheathed it, and darted forward to meet Fenrir head on.
This time, he put everything he had left into the new technique, Overcharging the gravitation effect to heights even beyond his first attempt. As he raised the katana high, the Battle Rabbit felt a sudden rush of weariness and stumbled, almost tripping for a moment. But he caught himself, and brought down his weapon, a wordless battlecry escaping his throat as gravity warped and the sword's weight increased exponentially.
This time, Fenrir held both arms over his head. He couldn’t hope to dodge the strike of a Prime with such unsurpassable speed as Hijiri, so he simply sought to bull rush him, betting that the Director would exhaust himself with this blow, and wouldn’t be fit to dodge after the Jarl took it and carried on charging. Hijiri would be run right over, crushed into the ground by this titan in human form that was bearing down on him.
He was almost correct. He had thought that the first strike he had endured had been the Rabbit’s most fearsome offensive. He hadn’t imagined that Hijiri could potentially push himself even further, to draw out even greater power in his time of need. In fairness, this was hardly a baseless assumption, as neither had Hijiri; it came as a surprise to them both. The Rabbit had managed, though, and when the blade came down this time, it was with truly immense force behind it.
The katana’s sharp edge cleaved through muscle like it wasn’t there, and even the bones of Fenrir’s forearms barely slowed it. He fell to his knees as the absurd weight of the blade that had just embedded itself in his skull bore down on him. For a moment, there was utter silence.
The crowd simply stared at the Director, standing before the kneeling brute, both hands on the hilt of the sword which had cleaved his head in half almost to the base of his nose. With his brain neatly bisected, there could be little doubt that Jarl Fenrir was dead. And yet they waited, the entire crowd holding its breath, not daring to believe that it might actually be over.
Hijiri collapsed against his foe, then, too exhausted to even stay on his feet for even a second longer, and the corpse topped to one side. That broke the spell, and a tumult broke out. Some people cheered—so relieved to be alive that they found exuberance, despite the death all around them—whilst others shouted for help and rushed about searching the dead for friends and loved ones who perhaps had only been wounded and might still be saved.
Hijiri was barely conscious, and so had little trouble ignoring the clamour. He noticed when someone knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, though.
“Sir, what would you have us do?” Alejandro asked. He was always trying so hard to sound to sound professional lately, that one. Having an actual job title seemed to be going to his head.
“You’re in charge... take care of things.” the Battle Rabbit groaned, knowing he was in no fit state to lead anyone right now, and then promptly passed out.
***
The Spaniard shouted for silence. It didn’t work.
So he rounded up a few of his friends and they all started yelling, until everyone else had shut up. The surviving medics more or less ignored them, though. They stopped speaking, and cast a lot of glares their way, but otherwise continued ferrying injured gangsters across to the lifts as quickly as possible... even in situations where moving them in such an incautious manner was extremely inadvisable, given their extremely delicate conditions. Their hearts were in the right place, but without having any idea what they were actually doing, it was fair to say that plenty of mistakes were made.
Alejandro reluctantly entrusted them with Hijiri, and ordered some others to stay and help with the injured and the subsequent cleanup. The bulk of the survivors, though, he took down below, to the garage level where they kept their four eighteen-wheeler trucks. After loading everyone into the vehicles, they set off, driving out through the stairs, which pulled back and rearranged themselves at their approach.
They split up, their trucks heading off down different streets. They could hardly do a complete sweep of Northside with so few vehicles, but they could keep their eyes peeled for any fleeing gangsters in NSW colours… as they made their way to the rival gang’s now-undefended bases.
Hijiri wanted to protect Northside from the horrors of gang warfare, but for that to be done, they would have to make it abundantly clear to everyone that the Takanomiya Group was the supreme fighting force in the northern quadrant, a paramilitary organisation without equal; an insurmountable opponent to face. And that would require a powerful message.
This battle, which had resulted in the deaths of the NSW’s entire leadership, would be a good start… but alone, Alejandro Torres did not believe that it would be enough to stamp out all opposition. In order to convince the remaining Wolfpack members to give up all hopes of resisting them—as well as convince those kids in the Northside Pyros to not even bother trying—they’d need to make it clear to everyone the consequences of opposing them.
They’d burn down the bases, along with any of the fleeing gangsters who’d managed to return to take shelter within them by the time they arrived. After today, there would be no doubt throughout the criminal underworld about who ran Northside.
![[Image: Hijiri_Name_Sig.png]](https://image.ibb.co/k1H7Hd/Hijiri_Name_Sig.png)