“Hold up…” The scream was loud in his ear, loud and wet; no different than the sound of a branch under a heavy boot as the joint gave way.“…I said hold up.” Zain leaned back, grip still locked tight on the guy’s wrist as the man let go of his blue windbreaker. “I ain’t even put weight on it yet.”True enough, but it didn’t stop the angle from still being all wrong; arm bent a way arms definitely weren’t supposed to. Spit flew out of his mouth with the scream, the guy’s lungs still going strong even as his eyes rolled back in a clear threat to go limp.“Yo! Yo!” A gloved hand slapped across the gangster’s face.
“Look at me!” Another slap from the other side had the scream finally ease up, the sound hitching up into a ragged wheeze as the back of Zain’s knuckles forced him closer to consciousness. "See, this what I mean. I asked a simple question and you wanna play tough. Now look at you, dummy."He dropped the wrist and the guy with it. The broken gangster didn’t even try to stand, curling into a ball on the concrete like most of his friends in the room; ruined arm clutched tight to his chest.Zain clicked his tongue, blue bandana around his neck already dark with sweat. Weeks and weeks of this, night after night of kicking in doors and diving through windows to have this same stupid conversation…
It was exhausting, man.
Almost as tiring as Colleen giving him shit for going missing last month.But, still, he needed answers before he could get peace.“I’mma ask one more time.” Zain crouched low, thick gray links of Serpentine Steel wrapping tight around his knuckles as the other end tapped the floor. "The Hand. Say something.”The man said a whole lot of something. None of it in English, and none of it with the word he was looking for.
"See, that's what I'm—" His shoe found the guy's ribs, just hard enough to force a cough and a curse and reset the conversation. "See, this the nonsense I keep running into. Y'all keep giving me bullshit. Like…”He edged his foot closer. “I know your ass speaks English, so I’mma ask one more time. The Hand. Where they at?”The guy looked up and opened his mouth…“Phtoo.”
…just to spit blood onto the toes of Zain’s blue Foamposites.“A’ight then, Mr. Burger King. Have it your way.” That same Foamposite snapped out in a hard kick straight to an open unprotected chest. The impact was enough to lift the gangster clean off the ground, launching him an easy four feet into the air and crashing through a stack of now-broken crates. He didn’t wait to see if the guy got up, not when he could already hear the sounds coming from downstairs; even more of them rushing up from the basement of this place and through the stairwell. Not even a solid thirty seconds since he finished taking care of the ones up here and they were already on his ass before he could stand up. Round two, then.The fourteen-year-old rushed forward, still on a straight path toward the open doorway as soon as the first Tong member cleared the step — hand already flinging forward. The chain lashed out — other end wrapped around his elbow under his sleeve — flying far ahead of him and wrapping the guy’s arm mid-step.The gangster didn’t have time to scream with his whole leg yanked out from under him. By the time he landed face-first on the edge of the stair, he wasn’t saying much anyway.The vigilante jumped forward, throwing himself down the steps as the next one hit the stair landing with a bat in hand. Eyes went wide as he swung it, panic driving instinct.Zain didn’t even have to dodge, his arc carrying him clean over the weapon’s path. Feet slammed into the wall and he bounded off without wasting breath, already twisting to drive a hook into the meat of the guy’s gut.A choked scream was all Zain got back as the force drove the Tong thug into the railing, the thing giving way. Not all the way, but enough that both of them went into it together.Fuuuuuu- The whole rusted length peeled off the wall bolts with a shriek loud enough to echo as the gangster fell. Metal shrieked beneath him as he grinded down it half a flight — one hand on the pipe for balance as his sneaker soles scraped down it.A grunt left him as he kicked off it, leg up in a knee that caught somebody’s chin coming down the other way.Two bodies hit the ground; one feet-first and the other head-first.Four left. Zain sucked his teeth. “Yo, real quick—!” He caught a fist on his forearm, the shock of it going up his shoulder as he just stared back at the remaining men. “—which one of y’all gonna be smart? ‘Cause the last couple spots I hit tonight, nobody been smart.”
Not a single one of the four was smart.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Fluorescents buzzed overhead, flickering harder every time a body hit the drywall — which probably meant something terrible for the wiring in this place.Either way, Zain didn’t find faulty electric work a reason to stop.Random Russian voices barked out through the hallway, steel hidden up his sleeve in the cramped space as Zain relied on pure hands.One lunged his way with a rusted crowbar, the swing wide and sloppy as he led with his shoulder.Zain rushed the arc, slipping in without even bothering to block. One foot planted itself on the wet tile as he twisted quick, all that momentum snapping out in a teep kick to ribs that gained a new definition of ‘floating’.
Bone crunched as the hit sent the Russian off his feet, both boots leaving the floor before he slammed back into the wall. Cheap plaster and cheaper insulation exploded in a cloud of white and pink, a spider-webbed crater adding to the design of the place.Pure hands and feet.
"I'm just saying, like… y'all gotta know something!" Zain shouted over the ringing in his own ears, ducking a wild haymaker from another guy. His eyes went wide as the fist passed over his head, not from fear or shock but — Ooooh… “Those silver knuckledusters?”The Russian didn’t answer his question, swinging out again and sending out a kick at the same time. Zain checked the guy’s low kick with his own shin, a quick twist slamming a backfist right into the side of the guy’s head. Before the guy could collapse to the ground, a hand snapped out and slid the shining silver out of his grip.Turning back to the other men, Zain raised his fists again — thick links around one, silver knuckledusters shining on the other. “Ninjas! Handprints! Guys with swords! I know y’all know who I’m talkin’ bout!"A third guy popped out of a doorway, shotgun sawed-off and ready to pop off.Fuck! A push launched him off the wall, legs flaring blue with ki as he crossed ten feet before that trigger could pull. One hand grabbed the gun, the barrel forced up and aimed at the ceiling the second it went off. Plaster rained down on him, ears ringing for the second time in as many minutes — “-uck! Fuck! Fuck!”Each shout landed with a knee in the guy’s stomach, the gunner already folding over with puke falling out of his mouth onto the tiles — he and the gun splashing in his own vomit.Unfortunately for him, Zain wasn’t done. "Yo. Yo. Look at me." One hand lashed out, greasy locks gripped tight as he pulled the man’s head back. "The Hand. Say something about the Hand."
"Chto?"
"Nah, don’t you… " His grip tightened enough that it forced a groan from Mr. Vomit. "Don't give me the confused thing. “Ninja motherfuckers, red wraps, swords."
"I don't— I don't know—"
"You don't know." He let out a breath through his nose. "Bet."
His foot came down.
Hard.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Fortnight Fury - (200 DP)Dismantle twelve criminal bases within fourteen days.ROLL: "Faithful Bane" (100) [One Finger Death Punch] {Treasure}:You have a simple weapon that you are never without. This is limited to traditional martial-arts weapons, such as swords, spears, chakrams, bows, shovels, and fish. Any time you lose it, a replacement will be dropped from the sky. You may import a weapon to gain these properties. [Silver Knuckledusters]
Dojo Points: 300