Monday, May 27, 2019
The school was shut down for two months due to the destruction caused by Brad. Students were now being homeschooled, and rumors spread about how the unfinished construction building could have fallen onto the school. People speculated, but many suspected there was an unnatural force behind the collapse.
In an effort to control the narrative, the school administration finally revealed the principal's death to the public. However, they fabricated the story, claiming that the principal had been trapped after ordering an evacuation.
The media ran with the story:
"The Willage High School principal was inspecting the newly constructed classrooms when he noticed signs of structural instability. Rushing back to his office, he issued an evacuation announcement but tragically became trapped before he could escape."
An odd explanation, but the public accepted it without question.
Ned and Brad sat in front of the TV, watching the news about the school's destruction. Brad chuckled as he rested his head on the table, his hand supporting his chin.
"'He got stuck'? Really? That's how they're covering it up? Bwahaha!" Brad laughed, shaking his head.
"But," he added confidently, "this'll definitely send a message to TBC."
Ned, sitting with a can of soda, glanced at Brad. "So, what are we going to do now?"
Brad stopped laughing, sitting up straight. "Right, right. So, what do you think about us forming a gang?"
Ned raised an eyebrow. "A gang?"
"Of course! We can't take them on with just the two of us," Brad replied with a chuckle. "We need allies." He rested his hand on his chin, thinking.
Ned sighed, looking at Brad skeptically. "And how exactly are we going to find allies?"
"With posters!" Brad exclaimed, grinning.
Ned stared at him blankly. "That's stupid."
Before he could finish, Brad interrupted. "Of course not! We're not putting posters around saying 'Join Our Gang.' That'd get us hunted down by the cops."
Ned sighed again. "Alright, so what's your plan?"
Brad grinned mischievously. "Don't worry—I'll handle it." He pulled out his phone and made a call.
Somewhere In The Willage City Inside An Abandoned Warehouse
Inside five men were playing poker. Three wore suits, one wore a white hoodie with black pants and sandals, and another wore a two-tone hoodie—red on top, gray on the bottom—with black pants and shoes.
Two of the suited men smoked as they played, while the others focused on the game. The man in the white hoodie threw down his cards with a smirk. "I WIN!" he shouted arrogantly, blowing his messy hair out of his face.
One of the suited men glared at him, slamming his hand on the table. "YOU CHEATED, YOU ASSHOLE!" he yelled.
The man in the white hoodie leaned back, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Oh, please. You're just bad at the game. Sucks to be you."
The suited man snapped, pulling out a gun and aiming it at the white-hooded player. "You'll die for this!"
Before he could fire, a spear burst through the warehouse, piercing his head and killing him instantly. Blood splattered everywhere, and his lifeless body collapsed onto the table.
The remaining four men froze in shock, panic quickly overtaking them. Cigarettes dropped from mouths, and chairs scraped against the floor as they scrambled to their feet.
From the newly formed hole in the ceiling, sunlight streamed in, revealing a figure perched above. The sun made it difficult to see him clearly, but within seconds, the figure leaped down, grabbing the spear as he landed.
In one swift motion, the man spun, decapitating two of the suited men with the spear. The remaining two—White Hoodie and Red-Gray Hoodie—backed away cautiously.
The attacker, now visible, was a man in a suit with a scar running across his lips. His short-cropped hair framed a menacing expression.
Without warning, the attacker lunged at the White Hoodie guy with his spear. White hoodie guy barely managed to block, deflecting the attack. The spear flew back, but the attacker used the moment to charge forward, kicking both White Hoodie and the Red-Gray Hoodie out of the warehouse, smashing through the wall in the process.
Outside, the attacker stood over the two men. He turned to the White Hoodie guy. "What's your name?"
The man hesitated but answered "George", panting heavily.
The attacker didn't hesitate. He sprinted forward, thrusting his spear toward George's chest. George managed to hold the spear in place, but the attacker pulled out a gun and shot him in the head at point-blank range. George's lifeless body fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
The attacker turned his attention to the man in the Red-Gray Hoodie. "And you? What's your name?"
"Mark," the man replied, narrowing his eyes.
The attacker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so it's you. Let's confirm that." He charged at Mark, spear aimed for his face.
Mark deflected the spear with a swift backhand motion and immediately countered, feinting a punch. As the attacker pulled out his gun, Mark dodged low, using his momentum to perform a handstand and deliver a powerful kick aimed at the attacker's head.
The attacker narrowly dodged, stepping back with blinding speed that almost seemed like teleportation.
The attacker smirked. "Yeah, you're him." Turning, he called out, "I got the guy you're looking for!"
Two figures stepped out of the shadows—Ned and Brad.
Brad grinned at the spear-wielding man. "Thanks for the help. Here's your payment." He handed over a piece of paper. "It's a detailed plan for a bank robbery—security positions, layout, escape routes, the works. The rest is up to you."
The spear-wielding man nodded, took the paper, and disappeared as if he'd never been there.
Brad turned to Mark, who was still on guard. "Well, well, look who we have here. Isn't this Mark?" Brad mocked.
"What do you want?" Mark snapped.
Brad laughed. "I want you to join us!"
Mark glared. "Why should I?"
Brad smirked. "Because you've got nowhere else to go, right? Your gang was completely destroyed by King's Gang because of all the debt you owed. Hahaha!"
Mark stood silently, keeping his cautious eyes fixed on Brad. Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an MMA-style grappling glove. As he put it on, his intent was clear. With a burst of speed, Mark charged at Brad, delivering a powerful punch.
Brad grinned, swinging his metal bat to block the blow. He deflected the punch toward the wall beside them. The impact was catastrophic—chunks of the wall crumbled, dust filled the air, and the ground beneath them trembled.
Both men locked eyes—Mark with a serious, focused expression, and Brad with his signature cocky grin.
Mark broke the silence. "You'll need to prove yourself worthy of my service."
The fight began.
Mark held his striking pose, his fist still extended toward the shattered wall. Then, with a quick spin, he transitioned into a powerful kick. Brad managed to block again with his bat but slid backward from the sheer force of the impact.
From behind, Ned appeared unnoticed, pulling out a taser and moving toward Mark. But before he could strike, Mark performed a flawless handstand and delivered a swift kick to Ned's chin, knocking him out cold.
A large chunk of concrete flew toward Mark, but he shattered it with a single punch. Brad had thrown the concrete and now stood ready. With a smirk, Brad stomped on the ground, causing small rocks to fly up. He swung his bat like a baseball player, sending the rocks hurtling toward Mark.
Mark dodged each projectile as he closed the distance between them. His hands stayed up, ready to strike. Face-to-face with Brad, Mark delivered a devastating blow. Brad blocked it, but the force sent him flying backward into the warehouse they had just left.
Mark pursued him relentlessly. As Brad landed, Mark teleported right in front of him, grabbing Brad by the jacket and hurling him into a metal wall. The wall bent from the impact, yet Brad still clutched his bat.
Mark followed up with a blow to Brad's stomach, yelling, "CRITICAL!" The shout echoed through the warehouse as Brad coughed up blood from the strike.
Thinking the fight was over, Mark lowered his guard. But Brad's unsettling grin returned, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. In one swift motion, Brad launched a massive swing toward Mark's head. Mark barely dodged, the bat smashing into the ground and leaving cracks in the concrete.
Brad fell back, pulling two baseballs from his pocket. He tossed them into the air and struck them with his bat, yelling, "STRIKE!" The balls ricocheted throughout the warehouse, hitting Mark repeatedly as he moved to block the incoming attacks.
As Mark tried to shield himself, Brad teleported in front of him, delivering a brutal uppercut with his bat. The force sent Mark flying upward, crashing through the warehouse ceiling and into a nearby junkyard. Brad's maniacal laughter echoed through the air.
Before Brad could catch his breath, a massive metal bar crashed through the ceiling, falling toward him. Brad caught the bar, straining under its weight, but then a second bar slammed onto the first. The combined force nearly crushed him.
Letting out a scream, Brad swung his bat with all his strength, blasting the metal bars away. But before he could recover, Mark came crashing down from above, feet-first, ready to strike.
Brad dodged just in time as Mark's impact sent dust and debris flying. Still evading, Brad was caught off guard when Mark emerged from the dust, grabbing Brad by the jacket. Mark pulled him in and unleashed a barrage of punches to Brad's face, giving him no chance to block.
Suddenly, the bouncing baseballs returned, striking Mark and interrupting his assault. Seizing the opportunity, Brad pulled out a switch and pressed it. The baseballs exploded, dealing significant damage to Mark.
Brad grinned, dashing forward. He delivered another uppercut with his bat, sending Mark airborne again. To finish, Brad swung a devastating blow toward Mark's head, yelling, "HOMERUN!"
Mark, however, managed to guard his head just in time. The impact was still massive, sending him crashing through the warehouse's left wall and into the open air.
A moment of silence followed. Dust and debris filled the area as both men stood amidst the destruction.
Brad's voice broke the quiet. "SO, WILL YOU JOIN US?!" His tone was filled with determination.
From the rubble, Mark's voice echoed back. "Sure. You proved yourself. You haven't gotten weak after all. But let's not pretend—whatever gas they used on you definitely made you physically weaker."
Despite his injuries, Brad walked toward Mark, who also stepped forward. They met in the middle, extending their hands for a firm handshake. The wind blew hard, carrying away the lingering dust.
Mark finally allowed a smile to cross his face. "So, how many of you are there?"
Brad grinned, pointing at himself and the unconscious Ned on the ground. "Just the two of us."
Mark raised an eyebrow, giving Brad a skeptical look. "Are you serious?"
Brad nodded confidently. "We just started. You'll be the first to join. So, what do you say?"
Mark let out a chuckle. "Screw it. We ball."