Joan turned around the gate with unease settling in her stomach. She sensed an abnormally large group of people loitering near the school.
As per usual, Joan took a right with the Grimm Bros and Navier at her side. Like any other day, they were headed to the arcade for a few rounds of Mortal Strike.
The group of 24 people huddled in the narrow alley next to the school.
But the students in front of her remained unassuming, passing by the alley without much suspicion.
Hence, Joan ignored the sneaking suspicion in her gut and continued to make her way down the street.
However, when Joan passed by the narrow alley, a hand pulled the blabbering Navier, who stuck to her side like glue, into the darkness.
Navier let out a high pitched squeal. Alert, Joan quickly latched onto his wrist, preventing him from being dragged away.
"What the hell?" Viktor cursed as he looked into the alley. Twenty four boys were shoved into the tight space, looking upon the group of four like a pack of wild dogs. "These are the White Snakes and Immortals."
"Huh? Since when did they start working together?" Pablo questioned anxiously. He tugged the hem of Joan's sleeve. "Master, we've got to go."
Joan grimly nodded and pulled back harder on Navier's wrist, eliciting a pained whimper from him.
"Ow, ow, ow! Rem, you're going to pull my arm off!" he whisper-yelled.
"You're Rem Oaks, right?" a voice asked from the alley.
The familiar intonation and ring startled Joan. Was that who she thought it was? In her shock, her grip around Navier's wrist loosened, and he was dragged into the alley.
[Mini-Mission 4: Rescue Navier]
[Reward: 150 Dollars]
Joan smirked. "So you decided to be generous today?"
Joan stepped into the dark alley, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, she wasn't surprised by the man standing before her.
"Thales," she addressed him.
"You know her?" Mad Dog chimed from the back. "Why'd you deny it?" He narrowed his eyes, beginning to doubt King.
King frowned. "You know me?" It was to be expected though. King had yet to meet her in this timeline.
For the first time in a while, Joan felt her heart stir before her previous mentor.
"I've heard about you here and there," she fibbed.
King suspiciously narrowed his eyes. Was Rem in high society? Had his parents talked to hers?
"Rem, this is your last chance to join us." King extended his hand to her.
Navier, whose arms were meekly restrained behind his back, whimpered and shook his head at her,
Joan cast a side-eye at PK, but the unspoken question reached the mouse's ears.
PK shook its head. "You'd fail."
Joan turned back to King. "No thanks."
The corner of Thales's lips pulled back into a disapproving frown—the same one he always had when she left an opening in her stance.
King raised his hand, ushering the boys behind him to make their move. They stampeded toward Joan in unison.
Viktor, Pablo, and Turner rushed to Joan's side.
"Master, we'll help!" Turner offered, but shrunk back at Joan's hard glare. Her frozen eyes paralyzed Turner. His feet were glued to their spot, and his mouth was zipped shut.
"You'd be nothing but dead weight," she said nonchalantly. Instead of helping her, they'd only get in her way. Together, they weren't even a quarter as strong as Joan.
Joan turned back to the boys rushing toward her. She raised her arms defensively, easily punching the first boy who made his way toward her.
His nose snapped into two as he fell backward, slamming his head against the pavement. He laid there in a daze, unable to move.
He had broken away from the pack, making him an easy target for her. Now the question was how would she fight the 23 others? Only one of them wasn't rushing toward her. And he was the one restraining Navier.
But Joan would have to get across the 22 boys blocking her path in order to rescue Navier and receive her money.
"Rem, we can help you. Trust us!" Viktor urged, but Joan pushed him farther behind her.
"You don't know how to fight," she said frankly without taking their pride into consideration.
She swept her feet under an approaching boy. He tripped and slammed his head against the concrete ground, groaning in pain.
Joan had little time to think with the amount of people coming in her direction. She jumped and spun and using a tornado roundhouse kick, tore through the cheeks of the next three boys. Five down, 19 more to go.
As a boy threw a punch at her face, she quickly jumped back. With the extra space between them, she now had a little more time to think.
With the narrow alley, only 5 boys could run at her at once. Seeing as these were amateur fighters, Joan doubted she'd have a hard time beating them.
The only person she was truly concerned about was King.
The next group of five boys charged at her, throwing punches that Joan barely dodged by jumping left and right. Slowly but surely, she picked off them one by one, all while dodging their punches.
But before she knew it, boys rushed behind her and encircled her.
"Rem, one last time. Quit whatever gang you belong to and join us," King urged her again.
Unfortunately, Joan wasn't willing to give up her 150 dollars. After throwing all her money at the arcade and rent, she was beginning to run short.
Instead of replying, Joan punched the boy nearest her, sending him flying back into the school building.
I used too much strength, Joan thought to herself.
King stared at the flying boy in shock. Just how much force had she put in that punch for him to go that far back?
Subsequently, 13 boys charged at her in unison like a rapidly shrinking circle. Joan narrowly dodged their first few punches, jumping and ducking like a madman. But 26 pairs of arms and legs were too much for Joan to keep track of.
A fist connected with her cheek, and she stumbled to the side right into the arms of another boy.
Joan immediately planted an uppercut to his chin, ignoring the cringe-worthy crack that echoed from his bones.
A sharp pain connected with her ribs, knocking the air out of her. Joan stumbled forward, gasping for breath.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the Grimm Bros approaching her.
"No!" she shrieked at them. If they helped her, she would never be able to call herself a superhuman. Beating up a few high school boys was no problem for a seasoned soldier like herself.
She traded hit after hit, blindly hitting the boy closest to her. But the relentless assaults to her body continued. Feet slammed into her rib cage and knuckles blurred her vision.
Blood splattered her clothes and skin, and she could no longer tell which splotch of hers and which wasn't.
Her right eye was almost swollen shut, and her puffy lips blurred her words.
Groaning, Joan rushed toward King. He defensively raised his arms, expecting her to punch him, but instead, she slipped her arms around his neck and interlocked her fingers behind his head.
She yanked his head down and brought her knee up to his face.
Crack!
King screamed in pain, and Joan relished in the feeling of his blood seeping across her skin.
But Joan didn't stop there. She brought her knee down. Then back up. Over and over and over again.
Hands pulled her long hair, but she ignored the stinging pain in her scalp. Fists and shoes slammed her ribs and her back, but she ignored the wind being knocked from her lungs.
"Stop," King wheezed, blood dripping out of his mouth and nose. By now, King wouldn't be surprised if he lost a few teeth.
"Okay." Joan gripped one of King's hands that was latched onto her leg, attempting to stop her. With both hands, she swung his body behind her, knocking over the group of boys behind her.
By now, she had lost count of how many had fallen and how many were still standing.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Isaac looking on in terror at King's bloody and beaten body. And for a brief moment they made eye contact, and the fear in Isaac's eyes disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Now with King, one of the most renowned fighters in the district, beaten silly and lying at her side, the rest backed away in surprise. If King couldn't beat her, how could they?
With one hand latched onto King's wrist as he lay on the ground, she ushered the boys to her with her other hand. She looked out of her left eye, which had yet to swell shut, and wheezed out, "C'mon."