The night had gone cold. The harsh winds of earlier had returned, and with it another small patch of showers that dullened the gray sky further and dampened the sidewalks. There was a distinct salty smell to the water that dropped from the sky like tears. For an odd reason, it reminded Riley of his mother.
"Almost there, Riley. There should be an opening to the sewage system just across the corner." Takeshi pointed, signaling the other side of the street.
The squad made themselves to the other side of the street, stopping in an alleyway wedged between two buildings.
"Here we are. Careful on the way down, just be mindful of the rungs. They might be a bit slippery." Takeshi bent down as he began to remove a manhole in the ground below them. But he was quickly stopped when the echoes of footsteps approached.
"Split. Now. Go." Takeshi whispered, ducking behind a trash bin. The others ducked out of the hallway, splitting in various directions. Riley stood alone now, the footsteps revealing themselves to be a pack of men approaching him.
"Well, well, well…looks wot we 'ave 'ere. A rag boy with nowhere to go. Tell me kid. How much do you got on ya?" The leader of the pack spoke, a cigarette in his mouth dangling by the lip.
They were badly dressed, looking like nothing but lowly criminals in their ripped duds.
"What's it matter to you?" Riley replied bravely, standing up a bit more as he fixed his posture and puffed his chest out.
"Don't play tuff wit' me, boy'o. Give me everything ya got, roight now. 'Urray up now. I ain't got all day."The man pulled a shank from his pocket, flicking it out. The knife was clearly illegal, the actual blade being much longer than the legal standard. The other men followed suit, pulling out various hand weapons from their clothes.
Riley stood unwavering, not budging. In situations like this, it was important to him to have a strong will. To put the body last and the mind first was his usual instinct. Something he had picked up from his father.
"No response, eh? Bad choice kid. I'll just 'ave ta rip whateva ya' have from ya' dead body." The man croaked, drawing even closer now. He was in lunging range, of which he took to full use. The man pounced forward, his knife drawn in a position where he could easily jab Riley in the throat. In a split second, the boy ducked as he turned away on the tips of his feet, jerking backward as he closed his eyes.
On the floor where he had fallen, the boy squinted his eyes open to a surprising sight. A long katana had completely blocked the advance, the holder of the blade now standing before Riley.
"Big mistake there, bud. You messed with the wrong people." Takeshi's voice was now much deeper and more raspy, a technique he used to intimidate those he was in conflict with.
"Ya sure about dat, wanker? COM' IN, BOYS!" The leader called, a horde of men joining in behind him. This clearly wasn't a bunch of street rats any more, but an organized group all involved in the same crimes.
"Ya dun messed with us. You're dead, kid." The leader backed off, drawing a steam pistol from his coat pocket, aiming it at Takeshi.
"TAKESHI, DODGE!" Riley shouted.
The swordsman simply stood, staring down the dirty Brit with a cold stare. He was dead serious, his blade pointing downwards, his hands wrapped around it's handle. He was ready to strike at any given moment.
"Ya know what dis' is? Ya ought to know what dis is."
"It's a 9 millimeter steam pistol manufactured by Birmingham firearms, chambered for calibers of smaller size, created to operate with extreme precision and firepower. I take it you aren't properly versed in how it works." Takeshi began, putting his sword away. The pack of men behind him all began to scratch their heads, looking at each other in awe. The man they were ambushing had put away his weapon.
"Wot makes ya say dat? Eh? Tell me, damn it!"
"The weapon's firing mechanism is switched to safety. Also, even when in fire mode, the user is required to pull the steam handle under the trigger to operate the slide and steam tank. You are holding the weapon only by its trigger, therefore, you do not know how to operate it. Also, your stance is tacky and unprepared. With the amount of pressure being fired, being in that stance would push you back a great deal, possibly sending you into your own men."
The leader slowly put his gun down, staring at Takeshi in complete silence. His eyes were wide, the cigarette in his mouth falling to the stone floor below them.
Takeshi slowly approached, swiping the firearm from the man's hands.
"Allow me to show you how to use it properly."Takeshi began, switching the safety and taking a special firing stance. Riley looked on in horror as he held his hands behind his face, shielding himself from the bloodshed that was about to occur.
A shot rang out. The entire alley went silent, a body flung across the pavement into a stack of cardboard boxes. Riley opened his eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect. What he saw shocked him.
Takeshi was still standing, the smoking pistol still in hand. The man he had shot however seemed to be in perfect condition, but was clearly hurt and distraught in some way.
"I bet you didn't know these firearms also come with an anti-personnel setting. Designed to push back and injure the target, but not kill. If the rest of you want to try and get one over on me, be my guest. But you won't be getting the same setting. I'll turn this onto fire if I have to." Takeshi hissed, his voice and stance oozing an air of heroism, bravery, and uncanny smarts. He had not only defeated an opponent physically, but mentally as well, all without a drop of blood. If this didn't crack their spirits, nothing but sheer riches would.
The leader slowly rose from the stack, trying to get his bearings as he struggled to stay up.
"Kill the bastard...take everything he has...dat fancy sword too. And the boy. Kill him. Pick 'im clean. Go!" The leader ordered, the gang of men charging forward with makeshift weapons galore. They were equipped with everything from broken beer bottles to long sharp daggers with rusted tips for long lasting damage.
As they charged forward, the men were caught dead in their tracks. A line of deadly sharp knives had been thrown in front of them, shining brightly in the moonlight above. The men looked up at the source, who was on a rooftop hunching down, staring. It was none other than the trench coated mercenary himself, Herrick Cutter.
"Wouldn't go farther than that. Keep your distance, boys." Herrick smirked, dropping down from the roof onto the alley below.
Slowly, the men who had lost morale turned tail and backed out, running to the other side of the alley.
"Oi, dats HERRICK CUTTAH! THE KING OF BLADES!" One of the thugs yelled, pointing him out.
"Looks like I got a few fans in these parts. You want to see what I can do firsthand?" Cutter stepped up confidently, brandishing his trench coat full of knives. They were identical in size and shape, all agile and thin, yet deadly sharp.
"Don't engage. Pull back. This guy's a monster!" The thug shouted, a few men backing out with him. A small horde still stood.
"Don't any of ya leave! It'll be ya head wen I tell boss! Take the bastards out already!" The leader demanded.
A brave thug charged forward, swinging a broom with a knife in place of the brush forward. Herrick caught the broomstick mid thrust, throwing it behind him as a flurry of blades cut the man in various different places. Blood spurted from each individual wound, making the man fall to the ground slowly.
Riley backed away in fear, trying to forget what he just witnessed. Cutter,in cold blood, killed a man. Takeshi, who clearly noticed the distress in his eyes, was quick to comfort him.
"Don't worry, Maxwell. We're trained to act non lethally in fights like these. It's in his contract to not kill unless given special permission. Those cuts weren't deep at all, so he'll make it." Takeshi explained.
A wave of relief hovered over Riley's chest, his mind quickly shifting thought. How did he cut the man if he didn't even reach for his knives? He seemed the strike the man in an instant, all without drawing or moving his position.
"Now...who's next?" Cutter stared forward, his newsie cap blocking his eyes, making only his devilish smile visible in the low light.
The remaining men all ducked back in fear, running to the back end of the alley. To their dismay however, the quick sight of what was going on was enough to send chills up their spine. Every man who had turned back in desperation had met their fate—a swift punch from a monster of a man, or a slash from a dual sword wielding girl. Body after body groaned in pain, all huddled in a pile of sorts at the end of the alley. Akemi and Oxford defeated them all single handedly, their weapons sprawled about the scene.
"I'm going to ask this once, gentlemen. Who's this boss you speak of?" Oxford said sternly, popping his knuckles as his muscles swelled with blood, making them suddenly appear ten times bigger. Cunningham was now towering over the men even more, his shadow casted across their entire group.
Screaming, the thugs scattered in all directions, only to be cut across the chest in a flash of light. Akemi appeared to be teleporting, her blades slicing and cutting from all angles. At the end of the onslaught, the men all fell down, bruised, beaten, cut, but still breathing.
Oxford's muscles returned to normal size, a cloud of steam shooting from his nostrils.
"I patiently await a day where I am genuinely challenged. I'm afraid it may never happen." Oxford noted, cleaning his hands.
"We still haven't fought yet, Oxford. Don't get too cocky." Akemi snapped, sheathing both of her blades.
"Oh, now that wouldn't be fair! You know I couldn't hit you! We will not be fighting any time soon, no mam! I refuse. I am too much of a gentleman."
"No, it's because you know you'll get your ass kicked." Akemi chuckled, walking back into the alley.
"Yes...probably…" Oxford said drearily.
Back in the alley, Cutter held the leader of the pack by knifepoint, one of his signature blades at the man's neck.
"TELL ME GOD DAMMIT! WHO DO YOU WORK FOR? HOW DO YOU HAVE THAT MANY MEN AT YOUR DISPOSAL? TELL ME!" Cutter shouted.
"I WORK FOR NIGHTINGALE, ORIGHT? NOW GEETOFF' ME!" The leader struggled, Cutter giving in to his answer and letting him back away.
"Wait a minute...you bastards work for Spectre, doncha'? I should've known. The whole lot of yew are batshit insane. Wit' yer' crazy psycho powers and yer' fancy weapons. Yew win dis time. But I'll be back. With a lot less twats at my disposal, too. You better be 'fraid. I'll be back. I'll be back!" The leader ran off into the night, tripping on a rock and falling face first into the pavement.
"Damn git. Worst one I've ever seen."Cutter hissed, spitting a lob of saliva to the ground.
"Well, I say we head in now. Everyone should be knocked out, so they won't see us go inside. Let's move before they regain consciousness." Takeshi offered, pulling up the manhole under him. Riley had been patiently waiting by it with Takeshi ever since the quarrel started, and slowly watched as each member climbed down into the hole of the base.
"So, what do you think?" Takeshi asked, grinning like a child.
"I think you guys are insanely strong. All of you. But you're not overbearing. And definitely not abusive with the powers you hold. If I noticed anything, it's the fact that none of you landed a killing blow. Everyone here should live tonight."
"That's the Spectre way, Riley. You ought to think of us beyond thieves. We're heroes. And the men we just stopped? Members of a rival guild that rob and abuse low class women and children. They are our next target."
"Can't say I'm not impressed or intrigued. To be honest, I've always wanted to be this strong."
"It's gets better, pal. All I can say is, you're in the right place. Now down in you go. A special man is waiting to see you." Takeshi smiled, guiding Riley into the manhole.