There were four people, just like Mark's group.
The leading figure collided with Loony C, who was now opening his mouth to yell at the man.
It quickly became obvious that these four were looking for trouble, as while Mark's group was simply unaware of their surroundings, these people refused to move to the side and let themselves collide.
Mark stretched his mind and calmed everyone down.
Well, everyone except for one person.
Loony C, utterly drunk and enraged as he was, started threatening the person who bumped into him and raised his fist in a menacing manner.
Sighing, Mark shook his head as he went to pull the fool back, but before he took a step the four figures broke out laughing.
That's where things went wrong.
Loonies A and B became equally ireful and went to the front with their fists clenched. Veins bulged on their faces as they started intimidating the people ahead.
The four men continued to mock the Loonies who in turn shouted with higher ferocity.
Mark watched all of it unfold and felt for the Luger in his pockets.
A cold sensation washed over while he thought of what to do.
His ability was overwhelmed by the commotion, and while he could direct the attention to himself, he was unwilling to become the center of all that chaos.
So he watched.
The shouting became louder, as did the laughter.
It wasn't even a minute before the circus reached its climax.
Darkness permeated the streets and the nearest light provided barely enough sight to make their outlines bright.
That's why he couldn't exactly tell who started the fight, or when it happened. But it was apparent when it started.
Mark dashed forward, finding the slimmest, weakest-looking person in the group.
He only had to do one thing: reduce their numbers. The Loonies were all bigger than him, so they could take on the larger opponents.
Sadly, they were all drunk, so it was hard to expect much from them.
As much as that worried him, he simply had to get rid of someone from their side before they could knock out one from his.
If he did so fast enough, Mark could then help the Loonies gang up against their opponents.
With that in mind, he collided against his opponent and pushed him back, away from the crowd. It would be easier to fight if there wasn't anyone to disturb them.
He stretched his mind and watched as the man panicked to fight back, throwing punches that missed by an embarrassingly large distance.
Mark used the opening to regain his poise then sent his fist flying forward.
It missed.
The opponent used his short height to duck and then attacked him from below.
Gritting his teeth, Mark felt an impact reverberate through his ribs.
He chuckled.
To his relief, there wasn't any force behind the blow.
Sure, his opponent was quick on his feet, but also had a great lack of mass.
He grabbed the man's wrist and raised it while stretching his mind once more.
Shocked, his opponent frantically tried to break free. Using the distraction to his advantage, Mark let go and then threw another punch.
There wasn't a lot of force since he attacked from a weird position, but it landed and knocked the man back.
Wasting no time, he then closed the distance and struck again, then followed up with a few more hits.
The man threw his arms up and tried to block, but it was too dark to see much of anything, making it seem as if Mark's blows simply passed through like shadows.
His opponent became battered, his breath bated, with bloody bruises.
Seeing this, Mark stopped his assault for a second, then slammed his knuckle into the man's gut.
A retching noise sounded but was drowned out by the chaos from everyone else.
Mark watched his opponent collapse and kicked him a few more times- for good measure.
He turned around and looked at the cacophony of shouts and grunts, and was surprised.
The Loonies were actually able to hold their ground.
'Maybe the alcohol is numbing the pain.'
Taking a few resting breaths, he walked forward and decided on who to help first.
They all were battered, but seemed nowhere near defeat, as if ready to fight until the sun would grace them with light.
With each of them being in the same shape, Mark went to Loony B, who was fighting the second smallest figure of the group.
Silently approaching, he watched the man punch Loony B right on the nose, and then dodge the drunkenly powerful strike.
The man prepared to launch another attack.
But he was never able to.
Mark came from behind and threw his arms over the man's shoulders, restraining his arms from moving.
Looney B saw this and smiled, leisurely approaching his now shocked opponent.
Elbows crashed into Mark's already sore ribs, causing him to wince.
'Hurry up already, you goddamned drunkard!'
Though, it was his fault that they got so intoxicated.
Looney B winded up his punch, and Mark could feel the man in his grasp freeze up.
Then he was thrown back- the opponent, and Mark himself.
The impact was so great that the man's head snapped back and hit him on the jaw while they flew to the ground.
He rubbed his chin.
'At least it isn't broken.'
Pushing the body off him, he took a quick look before knowing that the man was going to stay down for a while.
Mark rose and watched as Looney B helped Looney A finish his fight. They both went to help Looney C, but he refused.
So he joined the two and they all watched their comrade suffer gruesome blows, but also as he dealt some of his own.
Looney A smiled.
"I bet he'll win in the next five minutes."
Looney B chuckled.
"Five minutes? No way it's going to take longer than one."
Mark scratched his head.
"He's going to win?"
The two looked at him.
"I mean- yeah, of course he's going to win!"
And so they watched the fight continue on.
They were all wrong.
It didn't take five minutes, nor one.
Only ten seconds passed before Looney C won.