"Is this the guy?... Doesn't look that tough," one of the miscreants muttered while the others laughed in the background. Bruce could hear the hollow sound of baseball bats dragging across the ground and heavy footsteps closing in. He was being surrounded, yet oddly, he wasn't scared or worried. Deep down, he sensed that these people posed no real threat to him, but his anger simmered beneath the surface. He was with Gloria, someone special, and these 'clowns' were a danger to her. His blood boiled as he struggled to keep his newfound rage under control. In the midst of the bodies closing in, a familiar voice rang out, "That's him, boss... that's the bozo that beat me up."
Bruce squinted, trying to get a better look. The streetlights flickered, and the man's face became visible as he stepped into the light.
"Oh damn... it's the guy I knocked out earlier... uh, sorry?" Bruce said awkwardly, then turned to the group, "But you'll have to leave now." He whispered to Gloria, "Asking for directions... my hunch was right—he's no good."
The leader of the group, now irate, yelled, "Hey, what the hell are you doing? You think we're a joke? You beat up my man, and now I'm here to return the favor!" His eyes shifted to Gloria. "Hey beautiful, ditch this loser and come have some fun with us. He's dead meat anyway."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Gloria responded coolly. She turned to Bruce, "Please, hold back. You're way stronger than these guys. If you hit too hard, you might kill someone. You got lucky last time, so please be careful."
Bruce nodded, though the leader was growing impatient. "What are you waiting for? Mess him up!" the man barked.
Bruce braced himself, thinking, *Don't kill anyone... I thought I had a handle on this enhanced body, but I still need practice.*
The thugs charged at him. Bruce couldn't immediately count how many were coming, but his instincts sharpened, pulsating with the thrill of the impending fight. The hooligans encircled them, their eyes gleaming with malice, some grinning like predators about to pounce on their prey. Bruce closed his eyes briefly, letting the cool night breeze wash over him, grounding him in the moment before the chaos.
It started quickly. A stool flew through the air, and the first attacker lunged at Bruce. He expertly sidestepped, using the attacker's momentum to send him crashing into another. *Where the hell did that stool come from? We're in the middle of the street,* Bruce thought. His senses heightened, he felt the cobblestone beneath his feet and each heartbeat pulsed in his ears. Another loud scream erupted behind him, followed by the rapid thudding of footsteps. Without looking, Bruce ducked and delivered a roundhouse kick, sending the attacker flying. "Whoa! Where did I learn to do that?" he exclaimed with excitement.
The streetlights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced along with the violence. Two attackers charged with baseball bats. Bruce's reflexes kicked in—he dodged one swing gracefully, the bat smacking into the other attacker, causing a flurry of confusion and curses. Seizing the moment, Bruce used the bat as leverage, spinning into a whirlwind of strikes that incapacitated them both.
The street became a battleground, with trash cans and street signs turning into makeshift weapons. Each movement Bruce made was a fluid blend of grace and power, his blows landing with precision. The air was filled with the sound of fists hitting flesh and the clattering of weapons, drowning out the usual city noise.
Then, a scream pierced the chaos. Bruce's heart skipped a beat. He spun around, fearing for Gloria. An attacker had lunged at her, but she was ready. Gloria's training kicked in—she didn't even need magic for these guys. Her leg arched high, her kick cutting through the air with perfect precision, knocking the attacker out cold. By sheer luck—or skill—her foot also clipped another man behind Bruce, sending him sprawling in a comical tumble, nearly landing in a trash bin.
Bruce chuckled despite the situation, the absurdity of it all momentarily easing the tension.
As the last of the hooligans lay defeated, the night settled into an eerie calm. Their leader, seeing the onslaught, fled with his tail between his legs. Bruce and Gloria stood in the aftermath, catching their breath, their proximity charged with electricity. The flickering streetlights painted them in shades of light and shadow.
"Guess we make a pretty good team," Bruce quipped, a grin forming on his face.
Gloria laughed, the tension between them dissolving. "Yeah, it seems like it."
They continued their walk toward the motel, exhausted and sleep-deprived.
Back at the motel, a half-asleep Henry stumbled out of bed to use the bathroom. "It's awfully quiet," he thought. But as he entered the bathroom, the silence shattered with the rhythmic creaking of a bed from the room next door. Annoyed, he muttered, "What the hell... keep it down," before heading back to bed, his Lycans senses still heightened enough to hear everything going on in the motel. *Jealous much?* he mused before drifting back to sleep.
Bruce and Gloria were back at the motel, standing in the lobby. They both wanted to sleep but didn't want to admit it.
"You know, that fight… it was something else," Bruce said, his voice trailing from a high tone to a more subdued one, feeling guilty about the ordeal they'd just gone through. Gloria noticed and smiled—she found it funny and kind of cute. "Yeah, definitely an unexpected detour for the night," she replied.
Seeing her smile as a form of forgiveness, Bruce continued, trying to keep the mood light. "But hey, we made quite the duo back there."
Gloria laughed. "Team Bruce and Gloria, the unbeatable late-night warriors. All we need now is a theme song!"
Bruce grinned, playing along. "Well, at least we saved the streets from evildoers."
"And we definitely made a memorable exit from the bar," Gloria added, smirking. "And that goat… funny how it tracked you down for round two."
Bruce chuckled. "Can't say I saw that one coming. But hey, we handled it, and we're back in one piece. I'm starting to think I ate that goat's girlfriend or something."
Gloria let out a laugh but quickly sneezed. It was getting cold, and she stifled a yawn. "Yeah, no harm done, I guess."
Bruce smirked, noticing her sleepy state. "You know, if you're feeling tired, you can always hit the hay."
Blushing slightly, Gloria retorted, "Oh, come on, Bruce. Who said anything about sleep? I'm wide awake, see?" She forced her eyes open, but they kept shutting against her will.
Just then, a hot motel attendant walked by with a knowing smile. "Well, well, well, look who stumbled back in. Late-night action heroes, aren't we? I bet the whole town's safer now. You two should get a room already. You're practically sleeping on your feet… kids these days," she said before heading off.
Gloria blushed even more. "Uh, yeah, she's probably right. We should, um, get some rest. We look like zombies right now."
Bruce cleared his throat, running a hand through his long hair, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Yeah, the bed's probably calling my name."
The same attendant came back, leaning against the counter with a smirk. "Listen, I've seen my fair share of midnight drama, but you two take the cake."
Gloria, half-amused, half-mortified, remarked, "Thanks… I think. I had a great time. We've got a long day ahead of us, my valiant superhero." She teased, smirking as she headed to her room.
"Likewise, m'lady. Goodnight," Bruce replied, then thought to himself, *Should I have said good morning?* He watched her walk away until she disappeared from view.
Bruce stood in the motel lobby, glancing around. The dim lighting and the neon glow from outside reflected off the scuffed tiles. The air hummed with the faint noise of an old air conditioning unit, competing with the soft murmurs of late-night TV echoing down the hallway. The smell of heavy-duty bleach wafted from a nearby room, mixing with the faint scent of coffee from the kitchen.
The worn-out couches in the lobby, though shabby, offered a cozy spot to rest. Bruce moved toward his and Henry's room, the flickering fluorescent light in the hallway adding an eerie ambiance as shadows danced on the walls.
As they both made their way to their respective rooms, their minds drifted.
Bruce thought, *I won't stop until I find you, my little princess.*
Gloria thought, *April, wherever you are, we're coming for you. I promised your mother I'd protect you. You won't be alone in this fight.*
When Bruce finally reached his room, he found Henry sleeping with a goofy grin on his face, muttering in his sleep, "M'lady, may I see your panties?"
"Dumbass," Bruce whispered with a chuckle. He stepped out onto the balcony for a moment, gripping the railing and smiling. This was where he'd asked Gloria out for drinks earlier.
Returning inside, he closed the door. Under the watchful moonlight, both Bruce and Gloria lay down and drifted into sleep, the motel's creaking walls seeming to sigh in relief after their long and chaotic night.
---
Meanwhile, at Impel Down...
In the suffocating darkness of the castle, April huddled by her bed, her heart pounding. *Where was her dad?* she thought. The weak moonlight barely illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows on the damp stone walls. The air was musty, thick, and harsh to breathe.
Every creak and rustle in the castle amplified her fear, the distant howling of the wind outside making her feel more isolated than ever. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and her throat was dry. She hadn't eaten in two days.
Her senses were heightened, alert to every sound, yet her body was weak, tense from fear. The silence pressed on her ears, making each shallow breath she took feel louder.
*Why hasn't he come for me yet?* she thought, tears welling in her eyes. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to look.
Standing in the doorway was the Dark Lord himself.