Gangsters, Grudges & Ganking

[Takanomiya Hijiri]

Wait.

What was he thinking?

Steve drew up short, frowning. What had just come over him? He had almost headed off to Coruscant on foot. And not only that, he had been about to leave behind his precious shotguns.

“Tch.” he turned to his comrade of convenience, the ribbon-boy, who had not yet deigned to introduce himself, “I’m not walkin’ all the way across this damn place. Wait here a few minutes.”

For a moment, the hooded figure didn’t speak. When he saw the orb of Omnilium materialising in Steve’s palm, and the gangster then throwing it forwards, where it stopped in mid-air and slowly began growing in size, that was when he replied, “Ah yes, of course, transport.”

Steve was too focused to pay much attention to him, but he did notice the younger man turning to look back at that fight occurring nearby. A half hour or so later, his summoning was finally complete. Over the course of that period, the blue-haired Prime had casually inquired a couple times as to why he was taking so long, though Steve had never bothered to answer.

Now that he was done, it must be rather obvious. He had summoned a vehicle, yes; his black Bentley S2 Continental, but in addition to that – for the car alone ought not to have taken more than five minutes or so to craft – he had also created three Secondaries. His three Secondaries. The same ones that those idiotic swine had killed back Tier Five, shortly before he himself had died.

Eleanor, the black-haired one, Lisanne, the blonde, and Bethanie, the redhead. All three were ‘custom-made’ Secondaries, intended essentially to be simple dolls with no more individuality or rebelliousness than a wind-up wooden soldier. Only their hair colours set them apart. All three had it cut in a chin-length bob, all three had the exact same (rather well endowed) build, all three had the exact same facial features, the exact same skin colour and the exact same outfits; each of them wore a simple black bikini, and that was all.

“Hm...” the young man raised an eyebrow... perhaps not quite sure what to make of the skimpily dressed women, but willing to withhold judgement for the time being... and then all three draped themselves across the gangster and started snuggling against him. A blind man could have seen that these were no great warriors or sages, “What is this, Steve? Did you actually just spend half an hour summoning a... harem?”

Flinging his arms around the shoulders of two of the girls, the old guy took great pleasure in seeing his ally frown and narrow his eyes, “Yeah, I guess I did. What's wrong, kiddo, you jealous?”

“Jealous? No, of course not. I'm perfectly capable of seducing a woman or three without needing to make my own... I thought you were interested in avenging yourself, though? Or did you tire of that idea the moment you remembered that being a Prime meant you were free to summon as many large breasted whores as you felt like?” the young man didn't sound upset or angry; he apparently wasn't in any great rush himself, it seemed, but Steve thought he could detect a slight edge of contempt in his tone, hidden beneath a veneer of calmness and mild disinterest.

The Claw scowled, then pulled his hangers on roughly off, none too happy at being dismissed so casually by this little bitch... normally, he'd have blown the wimpy fuck's head clean off with a point-blank slug to the face, but for once it seemed that he was managing to keep his temper in check, strangely enough, “I remember just fine. Elizabeth, go pick up all my stuff. Load it into the back seats and squeeze in there yourselves. Mystery man, you’re riding shotgun. I’ll drive. Get in and let’s be off.”

All three women took off towards the pile and began hauling loads of weapons and ammo back to the Bentley.

“Elizabeth?” ribbon-boy asked. It was impossible to tell from his tone, but it didn't exactly require a great leap of imagination to come to the conclusion that he was curious as to why three people were being addressed by only a single name.

“El, Liz & Beth. Or Elizabeth. I named ‘em for convenience.” the Claw slammed the door shut after climbing into his car. Despite being newly summoned, it was as worn-down looking as ever. It also completely lacked a roof.

“You named-?” the hooded figure began, before immediately seeming to think better of it and continuing without leaving a pause for the gangster to respond, "Actually, never mind, it doesn't matter.”

He clearly didn't give a shit. Well, that was totally fine as far as Steve was concerned. Far too many people for his liking went about acting as if Secondaries were real people who actually mattered. If this guy wasn't such an annoying little tit, it might actually be refreshing to keep the company of someone who had their priorities straight for once.

After the blue-haired man gotten into the car as well, the pair waited in a somewhat awkward silence for a couple minutes, whilst the girls finished carting their master’s massive mound of munitions into the back seats, then somehow managed to squash themselves in amongst the armaments without nudging any triggers and accidentally blowing anyone’s limb off.

That done, they set off. It was less than fifteen minutes from then that they reached the gate they had set out for… even with the additional time taken to summon his Secondaries, this had turned out to be far faster than the five hours or so that it likely would have taken them to walk this distance.

They slowed down and gradually rolled to a stop by the gate. Two stormtroopers stepped forwards, “Good day sirs, mind if we give you a quick pre-search search before you pass through the gate? It’s nothing major, we just have to check you don’t have any- Emperor’s balls, that’s a lotta guns!”

“NL-5728! That sort of language isn’t- oh, fuck me… why is the back of your car literally filled with shotguns...? And half naked women… what the hell is wrong with you two?” the second stormtrooper seemed just as shocked as her counterpart. Each of them had a hand on the blaster holstered on their belt. The first speaker had sounded male, the second female.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You let Primes in through here every day, don’t you? These shotguns are no more powerful than a fireball or a bolt of lightning or whatever other magic half the people in this city can probably use. It ain’t hardly fair to single me out just ‘cos I aint got any freaky powers.” Steve scowled at the pair impeding his progress.

“That may be the case sir, if you were only carrying one or two guns, but there are dozens here. It’s obvious that not just one person is going to be using these. You’re trying to bring them here to sell, aren’t you? We don’t exactly appreciate people arming insurgent factions within our city. If you want to enter then you’ll have to leave the guns here with us.” the female ‘trooper informed him, having regained her composure after the initial surprise.

“What? What’s the point in that? I'm a Prime, you stupid bitch! I can just summon more whenever I feel like it! All you’d be doing is forcing me to spend more Omnilium for no reason! Now stop wasting my time and lemme through!” Steve snarled at them, baring his teeth.

Both of the EPD soldiers drew and aimed their blasters, directly at him. Steve opened his mouth to speak once more, but before he could get out another word, Mr Mysterious beat him to it.

“Let’s all calm down.” the blue-haired man already sounded perfectly calm, and when Steve turned to glance his way, the gangster noticed that he was holding up a gold coin with a hole bored near one edge, dangling it from a piece of string that had been threaded through the little hole and tied so that the metal disk hung from the bottom of its length.

It was strange… he couldn’t be sure why exactly, but that shiny, tiny, little object seemed to arrest his attention completely. He found his gaze locked onto it, magpie-like, as it swung pendulously from side to side. So intent upon it was he that the old man never even noticed whether or not anyone else had been similarly enthralled.

“Steve,” his passenger said softly, after a few seconds of silence, “you should be more polite. These two fine officers were only doing their jobs. We should be thanking them for their diligence, not condemning them.”

“Right… right… yes… you’re right… thank you… fine officers...” the Claw mumbled uncertainly, a strange sensation of sleepiness washing over him for a moment. Now that he thought about it, his companion was absolutely correct. It was good if the EPD wanted to stop them… it was good because… because… because… well, the hooded man knew best, he was sure. If he said it then there must be a valid reason why it was a good thing for this to happen.

“And you two,” the young man continued, still slowly swinging his coin back and forth, “this has all been a misunderstanding. These weapons aren’t meant for any rebel scum… no, they are for the EPD, in fact… specially requested by Judge Dredd himself.”

“Oh… oh… oh...” muttered the male ‘trooper, who had been addressed as ‘NL-5728’ by his partner.

“Oh… I see.” the female responded, seeming to have retained slightly more of her faculties than her ally, “That’s great… great news… yes… please head on… through the gate… then… please...”

“Why, thank you.” the passenger nodded politely, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Take us though, Steve.”

It wasn’t until after he had spoken those words that Steve realised he had been waiting on his command to act. The coin and its attendant string had vanished up one sleeve, and already the Claw’s thoughts felt sharper… though his memories were strangely seeming to blur, somehow.

As they drifted slowly through the gate, before stopping once again, this time at a much more thorough-looking checkpoint, Steve wondered at that a little… he had a feeling something odd had just happened, though he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly. This guy he’d met at the fountain had made a couple suggestions… what were those again? Eh. Nevermind. He had gotten them past the Nexus guards, that was all that mattered.

Four new soldiers approached them, “Anyone who would enter Coruscant must undergo a routine customs check, don’t worry, this shouldn’t take- are those shotguns?”

A coin, hanging on a piece of string. Why did it feel like he’d seen this before? Was this déjà vu? Tier One was brightly lit – though perhaps not quite so much as the Nexus – and the golden disk gleamed. Out of the corner of his eye, the Claw could see some sort of machines. Scanners? Metal detectors? Lie detectors? Prime detectors? Magic detectors? They could have been anything. In here, as opposed to in the wide, white abyss they had just departed, permanent fixtures could easily be planted in the ground. Whilst the first search would have been little more than a quick pat down, normally, to make sure they weren’t carrying anything too deadly, this one appeared like it ought to have facilitated a much more thorough inspection.

Especially when several of their gizmos started beeping and flashing, as they were now. None of the ‘troopers reacted to these warning signs, though.

“These aren’t shotguns, they’re water pistols, and we aren’t suspicious at all. There’s no need for a search. You should just let us through now.”

“Yes… yes… let you through...” one soldier muttered, and all three backed away.

“Go.” the blue-haired one told him, and Steve hit the gas.

A couple minutes passed, with traffic speeding by them on both sides – as well as directly above, with all manner of vehicles soaring through the air – and at about the time they were turning onto the next street, just as he was realising all over again that his memories of what had just happened felt a little unclear, a loud alarm began whooping, somewhere back in the direction they had just come.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the nearest elevator?” the hooded man asked casually, seemingly unperturbed by the shrieking siren in the distance.

“Huh?” Steve had been lost in thought, and it took him a couple moments to take in the question, “Oh. Oh yeah, sure. ‘Course I do.”

“Good. Head there. No one will bother chasing us down to Tier Five. No one cares enough about that place.”

“Gotcha.” it was odd... he didn't like this guy at all, but acquiescing to his wishes was strangely easy.

It was only several turns later that they reached their destination; a lift which was – conveniently – more than large enough to fit an entire truck, never mind a single car. With goods frequently having to be transported between tiers, it was no wonder that such large elevators were scattered about the city, in addition to the usual, smaller ones that were generally used by individuals lacking cargo.

As with both sides of the Nexus gate, there were more stormtroopers waiting for them when they arrived at the lift. These ones, though, had their blasters out and ready, and were firing before the Bentley was even halfway down the street. It would seem that they had been forewarned of the vehicle’s coming, and weren't planning on taking any chances.

“Brake. Don’t fight back.” though still unshaken by their predicament, the youth had a much more focused look to his features now, and spoke tersely, not bothering to give Steve a rundown on why exactly he was telling him these things.

The gangster growled under his breath, and considered arguing, not much appreciating the commanding tone… still, this wasn’t the time, not while two of the swine were firing on them as they spoke. Slamming on the brakes, he jerked the wheel around, bringing the car into a skid. At least one of his Secondaries cried out – whether in shock or in pain, he couldn’t be sure – and there was a clattering noise as a few of his guns fell out into the streets.

When they at last drew to a stop, the vehicle was only a foot or so from the ends of the gun barrels of the pair of stormtroopers before them. Had he waited any longer to slow down, they may well have flattened those two, and gotten bounties on their heads because of it. As it was, the hooded man threw up his arms immediately, “We surrender!”

“Alright, just get… get out of the...” one trooper began.

“The car... ” the other helpfully added when his comrade trailed off… though he himself never got much further. They were both utterly engrossed in staring at Mr Mystery here… or… at his hand? Weird. Steve leaned around his ally, wanting to get a glance at whatever they found so intriguing. A coin on a string? Where had that come from...?

A minute or so later, and the guards were nothing more than a rapidly – much too rapidly – fading memory behind them. They were in the lift, descending at breakneck speeds towards the fifth tier.

Shortly, their transport began to slow, and slow, and slow. Before more than three minutes had passed since they got in, it came to a gentle halt and the doors hissed as they opened. Steve starting driving immediately. The lift hadn’t stopped halfway through its descent and begun rising again, which meant that their… uh… whatever it was that had allowed them to bypass those swine up there… had presumably gone unnoticed.

Still, there was no point in tempting fate. The sooner they could lose themselves in the choked, cramped, clogged and congested streets of Tier Five the better… they’d surely find it much easier to blend in down here. Or at least, that was the thought that crossed his mind momentarily, before he remembered he had three bikini girls in the back seats.

He didn't have a particular destination in mind, though he did want to get back into the vicinity of Northside as soon as possible… not only because that was where their target resided, but also due to the threat of other gangs. The last thing he needed right now was to run into a band of orks screaming some shit about ‘dakka’ and firing wildly at everything that so much as twitched… or the Westside lot. What an annoying bunch they were; so many gangs crammed together that you could never even guess what they might throw at you.

No, it’d be best to head north for now… and given the Secondaries he had with him… Steve took a turn on his left. This way would actually be a somewhat roundabout route, but it would also take them through a red light district… in which scantily clad women would be a sight much less likely to raise eyebrows.

[Little Rose]

Arin rode beside the over muscular man just as he had before, complete with his bored expression as he watched building after structure crawl by. Women and men alike cooed and waved at them as they passed. Shotgun Steve responded with a sly grin and waving back at the most attractive ones. Those typically had the bigger busts, the wider hips, the larger lips. Arin mentally compared him to other men with only one thing on the mind. Sex.

They were taking the long way around according to Steve. When Arin inquired to where they were going Shotgun Steve complied either by will or by a snap of his fingers. It was nice when things went according to plan.

Though a plan is indeed what they needed. “So big guy.” He addressed the other prime, turning his head to watch him shamelessly smack a girl’s ass on his way past her. She cried out with glee and then giggled as she blew the driver a kiss. Arin snapped his fingers for the other male’s attention and got it pretty immediately. “What’s your plan for this Heejerry?”

“Hijiri.” Shotgun Steve replied. He normally wouldn’t give two shits, but old bunny boy left an impression.

“Whatever.” Arin rolled his eyes.

“The plan so far is, we lure him in, and then I shoot him a lot with my guns.” The muscular prime replied with the same enthusiasm and tone of a two-year-old explaining how he’s going to destroy his enemies.

“Yeah? How’d that work out last time?” The slender prime asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Shotgun lowered his jaw to answer, only to close it thoughtfully. “Well… Uh…” He tried to explain, but the slightest embarrassed look that showed a fraction before his anger flared on his face let Arin know. “That’s not the fucking point.” He finally responded, looking away.

Arin began to say something, only to be interrupted again.

“To be fair though, it wasn’t the rabbit that killed me. It was that bitch.” He was a man of hate, everyone’s doing him wrong was branded into his memory with the iron of revenge. “And I wasn’t shooting the bastard, I was actually wailing on him pretty hard. If she hadn’t gotten in the way of things I’d have killed him.”

Arin didn’t believe him. “Of course.” He said as if he did. It wasn’t wise to challenge the person you had hypnotized, it makes them question why you are in the same car as them. “So the biggest challenge we have is getting his attention. I know nothing about this guy so I can’t even begin to plan a trap.”

“Trap?”

“Yes. As entertaining as it would be to watch you shoot at him all night, we could use a few good ground leveling ideas.” Arin explained.

“You want a bulldozer?” Shotgun Steve replied, confused.

Arin sighed.

There was a long pause between the two before Arin began again. “Do you have any other information? Does he have any other weaknesses? A lady friend we can tie to the railroad tracks? A best friend we can hang upside down from a bridge?”

“No. Not really.” Shotgun Steve responded. “I bet any girl he’s into is ugly as fuck though.” He offered, still feeling a little sore and all.

“What kind of Prime is he?”

“Light on his feet,” Steve said, a monotone taking over his voice. Without his consent, Arin was gathering real information. “Not your typical hero but not a loose cannon.”

“Did he have a weapon?”


“I saw a sword at his side,” Shotgun said, monotone. At this point Arin let the man go from his icy grip. Steve was shaking off the effects again while the other Prime began to think.

-

Taking over a news station was child’s play for either of the primes involved. Did they need to kill off a few secondaries to do so? No, but it really punched in the fact that this was a hostile takeover. Arin did so without fear of being recognized by the end of all this as one of the criminals that attacked the place.

Televisions all around the Omniverse went to pure static. People smacked the TV and attempted better reception by dancing with their bunny ears. All of them on edge as the last thing they’d experienced was the main hosts informing its audience that the television station was under an attack and to stay tuned.

Stay tuned is exactly what they did. Especially those who thirsted for crazy action that Dante’s Abyss always promised. However small the panic was over this, they were ready for it. Some even going to get popcorn and soda for the show, as if the loud static alongside the black and white snow-like effect on their screens of all sizes was just another commercial break to them.

Eventually, all of the verses with televisions were settled back in their couches, loveseats, and recliners, waiting with sick anticipation of what would happen next.

The camera refocused on their usual hosts, bound and gagged by bright blue ribbons. The look of pure terror on their faces. The webbing of blue, when followed by the rotating of the camera fell onto faces of almost everyone who was there in that building that day. The very few that were brutally murdered stood out as a pile of bodies in the background. Among those with fear-stricken faces or determined defiance was a young man with blue hair and icy blue eyes.

Arin. Bound and tied just the same as everyone else in the victim line up. Perhaps a bit less securely.

The audience then could hear the cackling of a man with victory in his hands. The camera panned over and focused very quickly on Shotgun Steve. Now he had the spotlight, and the worlds around him were holding their breath in anticipation for what he’d have to say next. What ludicrous demands would this evil want?

[Takanomiya Hijiri]

“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.

[Little Rose]

Elizabeth clung to their master, squeezing closer to shield him from Hijiri’s brutal execution. Their beloved was already beaten and in too much pain to do anything for himself but heave and whimper like the wolf the Gangster Prime assimilated as his role. He couldn't even say the word that the two had agreed on to initiate the plan in case things went bad.

Arin didn’t let his pleasure at watching Shotgun Steve fall betray his role in this at all, not that he thought Hijiri’s focus would allow him to make note of anything as small as a smile. If he did, why wouldn’t this man’s victims enjoy the bad guy getting what he rightfully deserved when he challenged a man like this?

That said, Arin could see that the older Prime was in trouble and figured he might as well initiate his plan before he and his secondaries were killed. Besides, wouldn’t that be so boring for the people watching?

As instructed, the cameraman trained his lens on the action. He’d previously set up the other cameras to point in key directions with only the ability to control the main one without a fully manned crew this was the best Arin could ask of him. Since watching the last two camera operators fail in their attempts at escape by agreeing and then fleeing - punished by death - he’s been very helpful.

He has also been reacting to what his camera sees with faces that pleased Arin. The sheer shock and horror as the grey prime killed secondary after secondary, even one prematurely out of anger, reflected what normal people in public were probably doing at the same time. Now he had a sickening face of hope on his visage, only wincing in pain as a dramatic reaction to Steve’s knee cap being destroyed by solid lead. The common secondary was probably screaming with childish joy that the villain was being put in his place. They’ve all probably forgotten this was real.

He’d chosen the dark haired one because blue looked best in her hair, and really that was the only reason. He could have put it in either of their hair and the results would be absolutely the same in either case because they were effectively stereotypical runway models. Eleanor’s name almost escaped him, but at the last minute, he remembered.

[center]’Eleanor, stand up for your master, stand up.’[/center]

Hijiri had given them a moment longer to reconsider their actions, but now his finger slid into place and he began to firmly squeeze the trigger. That was when one of the bikini-clad women untangled herself from the other two. She remained on the ground for but a moment, picking something up from the outskirts of the pile-o-guns. She then stood up to the battle rabbit’s surprise, her movements were smooth with a hint of grace. She had her back to him, half of her obsidian-colored hair was pulled back into a bright blue silk ribbon. It was a nice small touch to let Arin know who he was controlling.

He left his aim on the group of people on the floor, but his finger relaxed and his attention was on her just enough to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. Had she finally come to her senses? Was she even able to do that? Of course, he knew anyone with a mind of her own would, but this was the Claw’s secondary.


There was a moment of anticipation in the air before the ribbons that lingered around Eleanor began to lift as if gravity no longer existed to them, floating in an imaginary pond of willpower. Several of them began to wrap around her ankles, wrists, across her chest and hips. He sensed something was terribly off, but couldn’t understand the situation yet. Maybe Steve had done something to her, something desperate. He couldn’t ignore her, but he couldn’t take his gun off of her master. “Yes?”

Meanwhile, Arin had another command.

[center]’Do the rest, Steve.’[/center]

It took roughly 10 seconds to hypnotize someone with borrowed power, more so with so little influence as she had. But despite himself, Shotgun Steve’s bloody hand reached out from the folds of another girl, sparking with electric energy. This crackling sound was enough to distract Hijiri. He steeled his arm to take the shot at his hand. The bullet ripped through flesh as the other Prime’s hand grasped El’s calf.

The sound of thunder mixed so well with the thunderous bang of the gun. As the light faded from existence and Eleanor stood rigid as if she’d been struck by lightning for a moment. Hijiri misses this because he was too focused on the red-head he’d just sent a racing bullet through, Beth had stood up to defend what was going on. He’d been proven right, the coward did hide behind the secondaries all over again!

[center]‘Eleanor, turn around. You can save your master.’[/center]

With his wordless command, Eleanor turned around to face her enemy, chained blade in hand and began to spin it. Hijiri trained his gun on her next, not about to fall for whatever trick she possessed. Out of reaction, the stoic man looked down at the weapon to decide how dangerous it actually was, but that was his last mistake.

As the blade spun Hijiri felt his consciousness began to be pulled towards darkness. His eyes began to feel heavy, his mind clouded, and his body felt weighted like it never has before. Slowly he lowered his gun, the weight of the gorgeous weapon becoming just too much for his outstretched arm. Through the fog in his mind, he heard the gasps of all that he’d planned to save. However, no matter how much he was aware, he lacked just any control of his body.

Hijiri heard his previous thoughts echo through his mind, Ogres. He felt his eyes widen in panic, his heart began to thunder in his chest and ears, he could hear his pulse erratically pounding along his ear drums. He felt something trying to dig itself into his mind and he could only think of one reason behind it.

He had to kill her. He had to eliminate her before she-

“Put your gun up to your head, Hijiri.” She commanded, her voice flattened to the most basic sound.

Hijiri’s trepidation kicked into overdrive and his heartbeat drowned out every other noise from his ears as he felt his arm raise his Heavenly Weapon and pressed the tip of it to his temple. It was not about dying, he wasn’t afraid of something so minor and inconvenient. He was terrified that his arrogance has made him foolish.

“Put your finger on the trigger, Hijiri.” She demanded, no emotion whatsoever in her voice.

The Prime by that name followed, pressing his finger back against the magic button.

“Shoot, Hijiri.”

People all around them held their breath as the last order punctuated her intentions. Some even turned away, cried, hope slipping from their lives.

Hijiri himself hesitated as well, accepting the fact that he was already dead. That was before he realized that wasn’t him pausing before blowing his brains out, but him getting control back. It was a good day when clarity is what passed through your skull instead of a bullet.

[center]’She doesn’t have control of him, keep her alive.[/center]

Not so well for Eleanor though. Instantly Arin felt the spiderwebs of command break, but he had the advantage of knowing that’s not what you do with that power. She’d gotten ahead of herself, and now she would pay for the mistake. That said, he watched Hijiri’s hand twist the Heavenly Weapon around and without hesitation shoot at El.

It was Liz’s turn to be coaxed into sacrificing herself this time; Spurred to do so by her master with a hurriedly snapped command, “Up!”

The blond’s hair whipped about in the wake of the exiting bullet, blood splattering across Eleanor’s face before Lizzy’s body dropped on top of Beth’s. Hijiri’s dark eyes narrow onto El’s neutral face before pulling the trigger again.

The raven-haired woman was already ducking low and charging.

His shot slammed into the concrete behind where she’d been standing, making a dark mark where the bullet impacted it. He tried to aim for her head once more, but she was surprisingly fast. Before he could lock on, she was already swinging the blade. He pushed back so that her attack did more damage to his highly expensive clothing than to his life, but he was not spared when the ribbons attacked next.

He saw the sky blue silk before he felt it wrap around him in various ways. His arm shot upwards to the sky, making his next shot fire into the ceiling which hit a light. Orange sparks rain down on a smaller group of hostages turning that area a bit darker. He then felt the bindings snap his other writs into the air and connect it with the other one. He felt the ribbons tighten around his body, even the exquisite quality of it as it slid across the exposed part in his chest.

Eleanor’s free hand quickly grabbed the ribbons as a bunch and twisted around like a ballerina, only to lift and throw Hijiri over her shoulder in a professional wrestler level of suplexes. Hijiri’s body soared over her head and crashed into the solid ground with a satisfying crack as she broke something. The Battle Rabbit flinched but made no more effort to explain his injuries to her as the gun clattered out of his hand. He glared up at her once more.

Their fight was interrupted by a bellowing laugh from Shotgun Steve himself. It served as a good enough distraction for El’s blade to come back down on Hijiri.

Even bound Hijiri was a superior fighter, he’d learned to the opposite side just quickly enough to not be impaled by the secondary. The secondary whose eyes still showed nothing as she stared blankly down at him. He couldn’t help but compare her to a doll at that point, lifeless in the head but very lively in body. His eyes side glanced the blade, in its reflection, he could see the thin line in his cheek pull away and blood oozing out. The crimson-colored liquid fell across the curve of his face down just past his earlobe.

He did not look impressed. In fact, his face mimicked hers to a point. He sucked on his teeth as the task at hand made itself apparent. He needed to take down the master, but before he had to put the guard dog down.

The quickest way from point A to point B is a straight line…

Hijiri closed his eyes, centering himself with a deep breath. He heard her trying to pull the blade free of the stone behind his head. A moment later the camera trained on him captured a flash of pure white light.

[Takanomiya Hijiri]

This was it. His new transformation. His ultimate ability. His Omnilium-based recreation of the Battle Rabbits' Heavenly Form. The new skill which had allowed him to head into this fight without the slightest doubt that he would be victorious…

Sadly, it didn’t come with painkillers.

When the white light cut out after a half second, he wore not his usual, finely tailored suit—a ‘Westmancott Ultimate Bespoke’, which he’d purchased for the low, low price of ¥8,000,000—but in it’s place a long, black overcoat with slits on the shoulders, loose, black trousers, fingerless black gloves, and a pair of white boots. Where the coat was left open slightly at the front, it revealed a purple gemstone seemingly embedded in his chest. Most importantly, unlike his ordinary Battle Rabbit Form, in which he had a pair of rabbit-like ears atop his head, in this version he instead had small, dark wings in their place.

He met her gaze. Eleanor didn’t seem impressed… though, in fairness, she didn’t seem much of anything. She was clearly powerful, he could no longer deny that; whatever it was that Shotgun Steve had done to strengthen her and grant her these strange, new abilities, there could be no denying that it had worked out amazingly. However, it seemed to have come at the cost of whatever small amount of freedom and individuality she had once had… the young woman had been reduced to nothing more than a mindless marionette.

Still, she had bested him quite effortlessly in his base form. While she stood above him, completely unharmed, looking down on him as he lay at her feet, the Battle Rabbit was in bad shape. The cuts on his face and chest were fairly long, but shallow; they stung, but weren’t anything he hadn’t felt plenty of times before. His right shoulder, however—the part of his body which had struck the ground first when she hurled him to the floor—felt as if someone had rammed the tip of a red-hot poker into it. At the very least, it must be dislocated, if not actually broken.

His wrists were bound together, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. With his left hand, he grabbed one of the lengths of silk which bound him and tugged as hard on it as he could, with all of the newfound strength granted him by this form... clenching his teeth to keep from screaming at the agonising, stabbing sensation which lanced out from his shoulder. Oh yes, it had to be broken; he was positive he could feel the shards of bone rubbing against each other and digging into his muscles at the slightest movement

Alas, though, rather than pulling her over, on top of him, where he could have potentially grappled with her despite being tied up like this, all he managed was to haul her about half a step forwards—her foot hadn’t even touched down on the ground again after being lifted—before she realised that despite his increase in strength, she was still stronger, and tugged back, jerking him forwards.

She didn’t count on his reactions or his speed being this heightened, though. In an instant, he had curled his legs up under him, then kicked out, springing forwars with all his might, drastically increasing the speed at which he was headed towards her. It was by no means the most graceful manoeuvre ever pulled off, but he was able to turn in mid-air, to ram his good shoulder into her chest, sending her crashing to the ground… though the only one who cried out in pain was the Battle Rabbit himself, after the impact roughly jostled his shattered shoulder, despite it not being the one to have touched her.

Hijiri staggered, but managed to stay on his feet. Despite not appearing hurt at all, as he’d hoped she would be, Eleanor did seem to get distracted enough that the ribbons binding him loosened up just a little, so that he was able to shrug them off and hurriedly step back, out of their embrace. He summoned his katana in a flash of light similar to—though much smaller than—the one that had enveloped him when his new form had been unleashed.

The blade was still within its sheathe, though, and with his right arm hanging limp and useless by his side, the Battle Rabbit had little choice other than to use his teeth to grip the scabbard whilst he freed the sword, then spit it out of his mouth, onto the ground. As he did this, the Secondary got back to her feet, rising elegantly to face him, though her expression remained as dull as ever, and there was no glint of intelligence behind those vacant eyes.

She stood straight and tall, the right half of her chin-length, ebony fringe held back by a small bow. Her breasts were bound tightly by the ribbons she had clothed herself in, presumably to hold them steady when she moved, since the skimpy bikini top her creator had given her would certainly not have accomplished that on its own. Of that garment, all that could now be seen were the thin straps that crossed her shoulders. The forearm and shin guards she wore were equally tight, but the miniskirt-like section around her hips was much looser, apparently being held in place almost solely by her power, rather than being wrapped firmly around her; so as to avoid restricting her movements in any way, the Rabbit assumed. From every one of these six areas trailed two tails of ribbon, each no less than a couple metres long; now that they were no longer binding Hijiri, they had all returned to simply hovering around her.

They weren’t the only ones present, though; the Prime was all too aware that the ribbons used to tie up the many, many hostages were of the exact same sort as these, so could likely be manipulated just as easily as these spare ones which had simply been left lying on the floor until she began manipulating them. He couldn’t even afford to get too close to the people he was trying to protect, lest their restraints lash out at him. It was hardly an ideal situation. And on top of that, she still had that damned knife, which he couldn’t even risk looking at too closely, if he wanted to avoid being momentarily possessed again... or whatever it was that had happened back there.

She had been holding the knife, but as he thought about it, she released her weapon. Rather than falling to the ground, as one would expect, it instead began coiling its steel chain ‘body’ around her torso, ending up in a position with its blade pointed towards the Rabbit from over her shoulder, looking almost as if it were the head of a snake, which was preparing to lunge.

Hijiri smiled, though, “This fight is over, Eleanor. Now that I’ve entered this form, the Original Form of the Battle Rabbits... the Heavenly Form... you’ve lost. You actually might have managed to beat me if you’d kept your focus despite being knocked down, and had been able to avoid letting me slip out of those restraints… but the moment I escaped, this fight ended. I’m now much too fast for you to catch again. I’ll admit I was impressed with what Steve managed to do here… what he managed to do to you. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of anything so impressive as that… but it won’t matter any more. Even injured, I’m more than a match for anything you can throw at me. So stand down, and you needn’t die alongside your master. After all, you haven’t killed anyone yet.”

It was just a bluff, of course.

In truth, the Battle Rabbit had no way of knowing how much power she might be holding in reserve even now, and he wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to fight without the use of his dominant arm... hence the offer. It might be a long shot, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to at least try to talk her down.

She nodded, “Understood. Correcting dissatisfactory conditions.”

The tendrils of silk in her vicinity all fell limp, the ones around her hips dropping to the floor entirely. No sooner had he begun to wonder at what she was up to when three of the hostages rose up into the air, her concentration now apparently being directed at the ribbons holding them, rather than the ones covering her own body. Glancing across their way, the terror in their eyes was clear to see. All three were making very muffled attempts at screaming through their gags. Suddenly, the gag-ribbons wrenched their captives heads around in a clockwise direction, whilst the other restraints spun their bodies counterclockwise.

Hijiri, with his heightened reflexes, realised what was about to happen just before it did, but he had still only managed to take a single step towards them by the time the three, sickening, simultaneous snaps reverberated around the room. He swallowed dryly. Their bodies were allowed to flop limply to the ground. He’d been wrong. Very, very wrong. Giving diplomacy a shot had, in hindsight, been probably the worst possible move he could have made, short of using the hostages as living shields.

“Situation amended. Recommence hostilities?” her voice was just as flat and monotonous as it had been since the Claw did… whatever it was he had done when he shocked her. The Rabbit gritted his teeth, glaring venomously at Eleanor. As he watched, the ends of the fabric rose back up into the air around her once more, and the looser one draped itself around her hips again.

“You could’ve just said ‘no’, psychopath… but fine. If that’s the way you want it, then so be it… let’s start by cutting off your access to any more helpful little power boosts.” the moment he was done snarling these words, Hijiri dashed forwards, his katana flickering through the air.

When he came to a stop, she spun to face him, stretching out her right arm after him, only to stop upon noticing that the ribbon-ends trailing from it were now no more than a foot in length. He had run right past her, seeking another target, only doing what had to be done to ensure his safe passage through her lengths of floating fabric. Just behind where he’d come to a stop—facing away from her—lay Shotgun Steve and the other two members of his ‘Elizabeth’ trio.

Lisanne had already been dead; his bullet had struck her head when the old man had ordered her to stand, earlier. Bethanie, however, had only been shot in the back, and had still been breathing. Both she and Steve now had their throats slit, and blood was gushing freely from the gaping wounds. The gangster in particular had seemed utterly gobsmacked when the blade had neatly severed his jugular, with no more effort than a pair of scissors snipping an errant thread. It was an expression to treasure, that was for sure. Despite the ease with which Hijiri had overpowered him whilst still in his human form, the Battle Rabbit was sure that right up to the moment the katana had touched his skin, the Claw had not truly believed that it was possible for the younger Prime to defeat him.

Looking over his shoulder, though, he frowned, “Hm. I was hoping that when he died, you’d lose that little power-up of yours. I guess that would have been asking too much.”

“Confirmed. Stated ‘hope’ is inconsistent with recognised parameters of Special Power utilisation.” Eleanor hesitated for a few moments longer before speaking again, “Now die.”

Ribbons darted at him, moving as fast as a skilled boxer might throw a punch; they were by no means slow… yet the Battle Rabbit slid past them with ease. He noticed that the fabric on her right arm—previously shorn short by his blade—had gone limp, but one of the strands severed from its ends now flew through the air towards him along with all of those still attached to her… it was clear that merely cutting them would not truly prevent the Secondary from manipulating them, but there was an apparent limit on the number of sections of material she could command at once.

Knowing that, he flicked his sword through another couple ribbons—one attached to her left arm and one connected to the material around her chest—on his approach, then swung down in an overhead blow which she just barely dodged, diving to the ground and rolling once before stopping in a crouch, not looking remotely phased despite the ease with which he was bypassing her defences. The knife sprung at him, its coils sliding smoothly from around her.

He took in a sharp breath and stepped backwards, worried for a moment by the suddenness of its lunge… before realising that it was moving no faster than the ribbons did. Sure, it would have been difficult for a normal person to dodge... but for him? It might as well have been moving through treacle. Leaping forwards just a fraction of a second after it, she dived at him, fists clenched.

So that was her aim. Distract him with the knife and then get in a few punches when he left himself open by knocking it aside with his sword? She was as foolish as her master, it would seem. Eleanor clearly was vastly underestimating how quickly he could move.

“Tch! You can’t match my speed!” the Rabbit knocked the knife aside with contemptuous ease, disdaining the stupidity of this fleshy automaton which thought that with such a simple tactic it could overcome the vast difference in power that separated them. In an actual person, he would have found such an act brave, would have respected them for being unwilling to throw in the towel despite such inconceivable odds against them… but what would a mere puppet like this know of courage?

And then he gasped, his eyes bulging as his katana was yanked from his hand, putting him off-balance. The chain attached to the dagger had wrapped itself around the sword’s blade and guard, allowing Eleanor to psychically wrench it from his grip... her greater strength clearly applied equally to the weapons she wielded, as well as to her physical body.

And speaking of greater strength…

Surprised, off-balance and off-guard, the Battle Rabbit was unable to dodge. Eleanor’s right hand connected with his stomach, knocking the wind from him, only a moment before she caught him with a left hook that wrenched his head around. From what he’d learned when experimenting at his base, his two more powerful forms both granted him roughly the same level of durability one would expect of a man wearing a suit of armour. To be easily able to knock him around despite this, the young woman must be tremendously strong.

He stumbled away, gasping for breath, the cut on his cheek burning like fire after having taken a hit like that... only for her to grab his broken, right arm and yank him back towards her. Hijiri screamed in agony, as loudly as his body was capable given that it still hadn’t recovered from the punch in the gut. Then she tripped him and spun him so that he landed on his back. She dropped down onto him, landing on his waist and knocking his breath away yet again. The one remaining end of the ribbon on her left forearm wrapped around his right wrist, tying tightly, keeping his good arm pinned down.

Still gripping his left arm, she wordlessly began pulling it up, away from his body, as if trying to tear it off completely. Despite her apparent lack of physical muscle, the strength her body possessed was astounding. At this point, in so much pain, shrieking unintelligibly, the Rabbit found his vision darkening around the edges, and knew that he couldn’t hope to remain conscious for long. Despite this realisation, he simply hurt too much to even consider any methods of fighting back, much less put them into action.

So what he did next was purely on instinct. His right leg came up suddenly, his knee slamming into her back with such force that she gave a brief, choked cough in response, arching her back and releasing his arm at the same time. He winced slightly as it struck the ground, but compared to the pain that had come just before it, this was barely even worth registering. Most importantly of all, though, once again, hitting her had lessened the strength of her fabric, just a tiny bit.

This time it was his turn to catch her with a left hook to the jaw. Her head snapped around and she spun, rolling off him—the now completely limp ribbon slipping from his wrist—something red flying from her mouth. He forced himself up into a sitting position, just in time to see her rising into a crouch. Blood poured down her chin, and as he watched, she spat out a couple little lumps of something… it took him a moment to realise that they were teeth, and that there were four more just like them already lying on the floor. Stronger than him she may be, but it seemed that her durability was much lower… oddly, though, she didn’t seem at all bothered by the pain. Whatever Steve had done to her must have deadened her nerves as well as overwritten her thoughts... or, then again, perhaps not... perhaps the real Eleanor was still in there somewhere, screaming and sobbing with pain as this machine ran her body without giving her any say in the matter.

The Rabbit ground his teeth together in frustration, hating to have to admit to himself that this mere marionette was giving him so much trouble… he really couldn’t comprehend how a man so imbecilic as the Claw could even create a living weapon of this calibre… though, in hindsight, he hadn’t known it was possible for Primes to summon ‘custom-made’ Secondaries until after meeting Steve either, and he hadn’t since heard of anyone else doing what that man did… that, combined with this latest revelation, made him reconsider the racist, old bastard’s intelligence a little… he may be an arrogant fool in most respects, but it seemed like he might just be some sort of twisted genius when it came to experimenting on Secondaries.

They both got back to their feet, and Eleanor dashed forwards again, her ribbons lashing out to pin him in place so that she could pummel him some more. He ducked aside easily, darting over to nearer her prisoners to get well out of her reach. She stopped moving, and turned to face him. Despite the temptation to do so, knowing what was going to happen next, he refused to turn away from her. He just had to wait for the sign, and he would be alright. In the meantime, he began building up the gravity-warping energy he would need to land a decisive blow in his left fist.

Her ribbons fell limp, those around her hips once again starting to slide down her legs. In the time it would have taken a normal person to blink, Hijiri was on the other side of the room, standing not far from a terrified-looking cameraman, who quickly looked across and gaped at the Battle Rabbit, apparently not quite able to believe the evidence of his own eyes when they told him that such speed was possible. Still, as impressive as it may have been, it was clear to everyone that it was by no means an effortless thing; after exerting himself as much as he had so far in this fight, and experiencing such pain, the Prime was left taking heavily, haggard breaths, his skin slicked with sweat as he faced his foe yet again.

Where he had been standing an instant before, half a dozen of the very long, wide ribbons entangled around themselves in midair. They certainly would have bound him up nicely, had he not been forewarned of their attack, and fast enough to evade. On the bright side, removing those had freed six of the captives—though their gags remained in place—who hurriedly scurried away, out through the door, not daring to spend another second in this woman’s company, lest she arbitrarily decide to kill them off in order to encourage her opponent to fight harder.

Allowing the fabric to fall, Eleanor turned her expressionless face towards the Rabbit. Despite apparently having no problems maintaining her mechanical composure, her body was still that of a flesh and blood woman, and she was also breathing more heavily than normal; even if she wasn't remotely bothered by losing several teeth, that didn't make her invincible. Still, all in all, though, it did seem as if she pretty solidly had the upper hand; Hijiri was wearing himself out faster by dodging her ribbons than she was by sending them after him.

Holding up her right hand, she made a tiny gesture with one finger, and the ribbon around her forearm—which he’d slashed down to size—unwound itself, to reveal that despite losing its two ends, the remaining part by itself was almost a metre and a half long. Furthermore, as the other lengths of silk in her vicinity all rose up once again, the sash that she had been draping around her waist previously now unravelled itself from its loose coils, to reveal that it’s true, full length was actually over five metres long. Blandly, she gestured towards him, and both ribbons darted his way.

He dodged, only for her to simply move her hand a little, keeping the ribbons racing after their target. Again, he dashed away. And again. And again. And again.

He was panting much harder now, and visibly shaking, struggling to stand… but he was ready. Several more seconds had passed whilst he distracted her like this, charging up his ability all the while. Once more, the young woman simply made a small wave, directing her two ribbons towards him. This time, though, the Battle Rabbit didn’t head off to another side, but instead charged straight at her, right past them, jumping at the last moment, before releasing the charge he’d been building up.

Instantly, his left hand radically increased in weight—so much so, in fact, that that one, small area right then weighed more than twice as much as the entire rest of his body combined—as he brought it around, sending a mighty blow straight down at Eleanor. Though not nearly as fast as him, she was quick to react nonetheless, and managed to bring a couple of ribbons up to catch him as she leaned back slightly, also bending her knees in preparation for trying to jump backwards; the closest she could get to actually dodging, with so little time.

All she actually succeeded in doing was causing him to strike her chest rather than her head. With such great weight, he powered through the floating fabric without slowing, and she’d managed to move no more than a couple inches by the time he struck her.

She collapsed under him, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. Making a horrid, gagging, choking noise, Eleanor coughed up a gout of blood, her limbs twitching weakly, once, then lay still, her eyes open, staring emptily up at the ceiling. The Prime reduced the weight of his hand and dissipated the gravitational manipulation effect, forcing himself unsteadily back to his feet... though right then he was sorely tempted to simply fall by the Secondary’s side and sleep. He spent a few seconds staring down at her remains. She seemed so much more fragile in death… though that was no doubt in part due to the fact that his final blow had completely caved in her ribcage, crushing her heart and bursting her lungs…

She seemed… deflated.

Making a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, Hijiri did his best to stand tall, first going over to his sword and gun, touching each one for a moment; just long enough to trigger another flash of white light, causing the items to vanish until called upon again, then he strode over to the hostages, doing what he could to untie them despite having only one hand to use.

Glancing back over his shoulder after a moment, he called out to the cameraman, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get over here and help.”