Quirky Row Chapter 43: Bloody Valentine

Chapter 43: Bloody Valentine

(Friday, February 14th, 2124)

It was Valentine’s Day, and the city was aflutter with lovey-dovey feelings! Though in Playa’s opinion, there was a bit too much love in the air for his tastes. Especially in the safehouse.

“Yes, I know, love you too!” Luko Bradshaw said, making a kissing noise before handing the phone back to Playa. “Thank you for letting me borrow that.”

“No problem,” Playa replied, accepting the device before putting it to his ear. “There, you spoke to your hubby, happy?”

“Hardly. But I am glad to know he’s still doing fine,” Troy replied, his voice a low growl. “I’m also not very happy you’re not releasing my family.”

“They have Ronin after them, Troy,” Playa shot back.

“You don’t think I can protect them?” he demanded.

“Of course you can’t. Stilwater PD is a joke. Most of your men are on somebody else’s payroll, and the heroes take all the credit and funding, leaving the boys in blue with nothing,” Playa scoffed. “The Saints are the only people who can protect everybody, and you know it.”

“The mayor is not happy either,” Troy warned, though Playa considered it was telling he didn’t argue with the claim.

“Yeah, don’t really care. They’re safe and that’s all that matters,” the leader of the Saints replied.

“You promise to let them go when the Ronin stop searching for them?”

“When the heat dies down they can go home. Though I suggest you make ‘em leave the city until the Ronin are wiped out,” Playa suggested.

“I will take that under consideration,” Troy replied tersely, before hanging up. Playa rolled his eyes before shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Anyone else want to make a call before I leave?” Playa asked, looking around the safe house. It was a former Brotherhood base near the Red Light District. It was a fully furnished penthouse apartment with everything a secret home away from home needed: backup power generators, bullet proof walls and windows, a sophisticated alarm system, a large collection of entertainment in the form of books, movies, and video games, and enough preserved food to last a month.

It had apparently belonged to Maero himself, who had then given it to his girlfriend as a present. She in turn had decorated it, and Playa kept most of it, though the really racist stuff had long been removed.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” Stan asked hopefully, his sister trying to break Playa’s will with puppy eyes.

“Ask your dad,” Playa immediately responded. They turned to Luka who shook his head, causing them to pout.

“Andrea?” Playa asked, glancing at the final member of the safehouse family.

“Nah, I’m good,” she replied, waving a hand from her spot on the couch. “Wish I could have internet, but these reality TV shows are good enough.”

“Alright, I’m outta here, then. Carlos will stop by with dinner. If you want anything special for breakfast, let him know,” Playa said with a nod of his head.

He then left the hideout. Several Saints in plainclothes had been stationed inside the apartment building as well as outside of it. None of them acknowledged his presence, and Playa didn’t even know which of the tenants were actually Saints in disguise beyond a few of them.

Upon leaving the place, he found Johnny waiting for him in a car parked on the opposite side of the street.

“Nice whip,” Playa said as he got in.

“Damn straight,” Johnny agreed. “By the way, I got those things you wanted.”

“And by ‘you’ you mean Aisha got ‘em,” Playa snorted.

“Heh, yeah, my girl always knows the best things to get,” Johnny nodded. “Let’s swing by the place real quick, we can grab ‘em, then I’ll drop you off at home so you and your girls can have a nice evening while Eesh and I do the same.”

“I like the way you think, Johnny,” Playa grinned as his right-hand man drove off. When they arrived at the suburban house Johnny and Aisha lived at, neither of the Saints noticed anything wrong.

However, as soon as they entered through the front door, something felt off to the two of them. For one, the TV was on. Aisha hated having it on when nobody was watching it. She especially hated the H-Trash Channel, which was just garbage reality shows about heroes, and would never watch it.

‘So why, then, is the TV on that channel?’ Playa wondered. He shared a look with Johnny, who nodded back. Both reached for their guns while cautiously stepping forward.

“Eesh?” Johnny called out. “You there?”

“Johnny!” Aisha cried from inside. “It’s a tra-!”

Her words were suddenly cut off, and the two Saints immediately rushed into the living room. To their horror, they found several Ronin standing inside, including none other than Jyunichi himself.

The Ronin’s right-hand man had one of his swords drawn, the blade dripping red. On the floor, a rapidly growing puddle of blood was oozing out from a severed head that lay at the feet of a body tied to a chair. He turned, almost as if in slow motion, and flicked his sword clean of blood.

“EEEESH!” Johnny roared, rage and sorrow burning within him. He shot forward as he aimed his gun at Jyunichi, but a Ronin hiding behind the corner jumped out, trying to cut him down. The ambush failed to kill Johnny, but it did disarm him, the blade slicing through the barrel of the handgun. Johnny immediately began to grapple with his attacker, trying to wrestle the impossibly sharp sword from his hands.

Johnny punched the swordsman in the throat, crushing his windpipe, and stole the sword from the suddenly slack fingers. He then plunged it into the former owner, and turned with murder in his eyes towards Jyunichi, who stepped forward, accepting the duel.

Meanwhile, a woman with a machine gun popped up from behind the couch and began firing it at Playa, who dove to the side, barely managing to avoid the shots. He fired his own weapon as he ducked and rolled, an explosive round tearing apart the couch, forcing the Ronin to run for a new piece of cover.

Playa flung his hand out, sending droplets of Nitroglycerin flying which exploded against the door the woman had hidden herself behind. The explosions tore the wood apart, filling her with splinters that had her crying out in pain. Playa didn’t hesitate to put a round into her head, the shot turning her skull to mush.

There were more Ronin pouring into the house from the surroundings, however, and Playa hastily grabbed the machine gun his dead opponent had been using, opening fire into the gangsters coming for him.

Several were cut down as they stormed the place, but two managed to dive into cover behind the kitchen counter at the last moment. They then began to pop off with SMGs trying to murder Playa, who responded by firing back.

“Damn it, why didn’t I bring my grenades with me?” Playa grunted in frustration. He already had his revolver on his person at all times, perhaps he should also have a smoke grenade or two as well?

Playa glanced over at Johnny and Jyunichi, who were both still fighting. To Playa’s – and everyone else’s – surprise, the Asian-American in the sunglasses was rather skilled at sword fighting. He wasn’t Jyunichi’s equal, but he was holding him off longer than anyone expected.

‘I need to end this, and fast!’ Playa growled to himself, wincing as a few bullets impacted the wall he was crouched behind.

“Sorry, Johnny,” Playa muttered, and then unleashed his Quirk, filling the air of the house with an awful stench.

Johnny gagged but didn’t flinch and just kept fighting. The Ronin, however? They did not expect it, and all of them began to hack and cough as the foul odor assaulted their nostrils. Jyunichi held on, but his resolve started to waver and he was soon on the back foot. Meanwhile, the two Ronin who’d dove into cover were too busy throwing up to react as Playa ran up to them and shot them both dead. He then aimed his gun at Jyunichi, but Johnny was in the way.

“Move, Johnny!” Playa shouted.

“No!” Johnny Gat snarled as he lunged, trying to chop his opponent’s neck. “He’s mine!”

“And you are finished!” Jyunichi shot back. He twisted out of the way of Johnny’s attack and then drove his own sword into the Saints’ stomach. Jyunichi then wrenched the blade out, and kicked Johnny backward.

“Fucker!” Playa shouted, opening fire as Johnny collapsed. One bullet managed to wing the Ronin lieutenant in the shoulder, but that was it. Jyunichi was fast and sprinted out of the way, leaping from a window in a desperate bid to escape now that he was the only Ronin left standing.

“Johnny! Stay with me!” Playa exclaimed, rushing over to Johnny’s side.

“P-Playa…” Johnny gurgled. “I-is… A-Aisha…?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Playa murmured, glancing back at his best friend’s wife. Johnny let out a moan of anguish before passing out.

“Fuck, this is bad!” Playa uttered, seeing the bloody wound. He tried to bandage it, but it wasn’t very good, and he knew he had to get his friend to the hospital. Grunting with effort as he picked up Johnny, he hurried to the car, laying him down in the backseats as best he could before starting the engine.

He pulled out of the driveway just in time, too, as a trio of Ronin motorcycles came zooming down the street towards him, guns blazing.

“I don’t have time for this!” Playa snarled as he slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal, taking off in a burst of speed. He then quickly slapped the dashboard, activating the phone call function as he contacted his other lieutenants.

“Hey, boss-”

“Yo, Playa, what’s-”

“When will you-?”

“SHUT UP!” Playa shouted, cutting off the overlapping voices who had started talking as soon as the conference call began. “The Ronin attacked Johnny and Aisha’s place! Johnny’s hurt badly, I’m trying to get him to the hospital! But I’ve got Ronin on my tail and I need some help!”

“Fuck!” somebody swore. It sounded like Pierce.

“Where are you?!” Shaundi demanded.

“Just got onto South Maple Drive!” Playa replied. “I’m headed to Scapegoat’s hospital! It’s the only place that’s neutral I trust that also has the means to stitch up Johnny’s stomach wound!”

“I’ll have the Saints loaded up and headed your way immediately!” Mink promised.

“Playa, what about Aisha?” Carlos asked worriedly.

“…She didn’t make it,” Playa replied.

Sobs and cries of disbelief rang out upon hearing that, and Playa grimaced.

“W-we’ll be there soon,” Shaundi said, voice trembling with emotions. “Meet you at the hospital.”

“Uh, boss?” Twenty-One timidly spoke up a moment later. “I know this is a bad time, but I just got a ping that says a private jet from Japan is going to be landing in Stilwater this evening. I hacked the airport’s logs. It’s Kazuo Akuji.”

“One damn thing after the other,” Playa grunted. “Fine! Send some boys to fuck shit up! I want Kazuo dead! Blood for blood, do you hear me?! Shogo went after our families, now it’s time for him to experience the same thing!”

Vindictive, blood-thirsty cheers rang out, and Playa grinned as well, before glancing back at Johnny who was moaning and muttering Aisha’s name over and over.

“Damn, that’s not good,” Playa muttered. A series of explosions that went off too close for comfort forced his eyes back onto the road. “OH, COME ON!”

A Ronin riding in a motorcycle sidecar had a rocket launcher on his shoulder, while another Ronin with wings was flying overhead, a grenade rifle in his hands. Playa rammed the guy with the rocket launcher off the road, watching with grim satisfaction as he bounced across the asphalt, then glanced upwards and fired through the roof, hitting the flying Ronin and shooting him down. He fell, landing and getting impaled on a Stop sign which caused Playa to wince.

But even with those threats removed, more were coming, buzzing around like a nest of angry hornets. Not to mention the red and blue siren-lights of the police, and the gaudy hero-driven vehicles that were rushing in to stop them.

‘Hopefully the Ronin and heroes get in each other’s way,’ Playa prayed. After all, for all the cops knew, the car the Ronin were chasing was just a regular civilian vehicle. It wasn’t purple or showed any Saint decals at all.

Thankfully it seemed to be working. Four different heroes had showed up. Spincycle, Banana Loco, and two lesser heroes Playa didn’t recognize. They immediately began to lay into the Ronin.

Whirlwinds from Spincycle knocked aside bullets and heavier ordinance while the fruit-themed hero was knocking gangsters around with overripe oranges and mangos, blinding them by squinting the acidic juices right into their faces. The other two heroes were showing off their skill as well, working in tandem as one wrecked the tires on the Ronin’s vehicles with some sort of rubber manipulation Quirk before the other hero trapped the Ronin inside thick red cement-like goo.

The Ronin weren’t pushovers, though. Quite a few had powerful Quirks, such as one with long, razor-sharp metal ribbons shooting out of his fingers that Playa was fairly certain was one of Shogo’s Ninja. The blades ripped apart a police car with worrying ease and killed the officers driving inside it. Another Ronin was a spider Heteromorph with six arms, and he was using them to hold multiple weapons while also driving a motorcycle. The spider-guy was shooting at both the heroes and Playa, showing an impressive talent for multi-tasking.

Then there were the grunts, who were acting like cannon fodder trying to slow down the heroes. They were doing their job well, basically just throwing themselves at the caped good guys so they’d have to take a moment or two in order to take the Ronin down and arrest them.

“Playa… I can see her… I can see Aisha…” Johnny suddenly groaned out, a blood-soaked hand weakly groping towards the sky.

“Ah, shit, that can’t be good,” Playa grunted. “Johnny, don’t you dare go into the light!”

“Aisha… Aisha!” Johnny wept, and Playa cursed under his breath. His friend was getting worse, his body weakening from the blood loss.

“The hospital’s close! Just hang on, buddy!” Playa pleaded.

“WOOO! SAINTS FOREVER!” somebody screamed through a megaphone, and all of a sudden there were new participants in the city-wide race as a dozen purple cars of different makes burst onto the scene.

Led by Pierce and Mink, the cavalry had arrived and the Third Street Saints were tearing into the Ronin, leaving lots of shattered bones and vehicles in their wake.

Pierce, dressed up as his villain persona Defender, was driving a repurposed and repainted Brotherhood monster truck with a snowplow attachment on the front. He was bulldozing through the Ronin and tanking all the shots aimed at the rest of the Saints thanks to his Quirk making the plow and body of the vehicle incredibly more durable.

Mink was sitting in the seat next to Pierce, coordinating the rest of the attack with a walkie-talkie while also shouting out warnings as his spotter. The two worked well together, and were tearing up the Ronin.

Playa laughed viciously as Pierce slammed into the Ninja who’d killed several policemen already, glad that one threat went down for good underneath some heavy tires.

“Playa!” Mink called out, her voice coming from his car radio.

“Whoa, how’re you doing that?” he asked.

“One of the Saints I brought with us can interfere with radio signals,” she replied. “Listen, we’re coming up on the turn-off for the hospital. We also have a guy driving a car that looks similar to the one you’re in. The plan is to use your Quirk along with some smoke bombs as a distraction while you break off, the look-alike taking your place.”

“Got it!” Playa said in relief.

“Okay! Popping smoke in three… two… NOW!”

Playa activated his Quirk and plumes of greyish fog billowed out of his skin, while Mink and several other Saints tossed smoke grenades. The street immediately became flooded with a thick smokescreen, causing considerable amounts of destruction and property damage.

The heroes, cops, and Ronin crashed into each other or objects on the side of the road. Three different buildings were slammed into, and quite a few parked cars were hit as well.

The Saints fared better, having expected it, and were able to avoid getting into any wrecks. And thanks to the chaos they caused, Playa slipped away, his body-double replacing him.

It was still nerve wracking to drive to the hospital, as there was a chance the Ronin or heroes figured out the ruse and continued the chase, but to his immense relief there wasn’t anything like that.

Playa pulled up to the emergency entrance of the Stilwater Memorial Hospital, and he saw Shaundi standing outside, arms folded and foot tapping as she waited for his arrival. To his surprise, Scapegoat was also there, a nurse with a gurney waiting near the doors.

“There you are!” she said, rushing over as soon as Playa parked the car near the entrance. She peeked through the window and grimaced as she saw Johnny. “Shit! Is he…?”

“He’s alive, but not sure for how much longer,” Playa replied, before turning to Scapegoat. “I need that gurney over here, now!”

The hero nodded and gestured at the nurse beside him, the two hurrying over to help extract the patient from the car.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Scapegoat grimaced as Johnny was loaded onto the gurney.

“Yeah, I know,” Playa snarked bitterly. The hero rolled his eyes but reached out to the Saint, clearly trying to use his Quirk to try and heal him a bit, but paused, expression turning confused.

“Huh… I can’t use my Quirk on him,” Scapegoat announced in surprise, causing Playa and Shaundi to stare at him in shock.

“What?!” Shaundi demanded.

“There’s something interfering with my Quirk,” the healer revealed.

“Can you save him?” Playa asked desperately.

“Yeah, but it’s pretty bad,” Scapegoat said with a wince as he analyzed Johnny’s wounds while a nurse worked to stabilize him. “Who the hell did this to him?”

“Jyunichi of the Ronin,” Playa revealed.

“That guy? Damn, that explains why I can’t use my Quirk on him,” Scapegoat grunted.

“Huh? I thought he was Quirkless!” Shaundi exclaimed.

“Yeah, but his swords are custom-made by the Artificer. They have an Anti-Quirk effect applied to them. Not only is he immune to direct attacks from other Quirks while he’s using those katana, anybody he cuts can’t be affected by other Quirks until they’ve healed normally. It effectively makes his victims unable to be healed with Quirks. They have to recover the old-fashioned way.”

Stilwater’s Number 3 hero clapped his hands. “Well, good news is that medical technology has come a long way. We’ll stabilize Mr. Gat, stitch up the damage to his body with some nano-sutures and give him plenty of anti-biotics and painkillers. Should be back on his feet in… I want to say a week? Though he should take it easy for at least two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Playa said in relief, sagging a bit now that he knew his best friend wasn’t going to die on him.

“It’s my job,” Scapegoat replied. “Now, shoo.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea to leave before the heroes find out about what’s gone down,” Shaundi agreed.

“You realize I am a hero, right?” Scapegoat asked.

“I meant heroes who’d want to beat us up and then arrest us,” Shaundi retorted with a roll of her eyes. “You’re pretty harmless, all things considered.”

“I appreciate that,” Scapegoat laughed.

“Ah, wait,” the medical hero called out before the two could leave.

“What?” Playa asked.

“Thank you. For stopping John’s rampage,” Scapegoat said.

“The General’s first name was ‘John?’” Playa muttered. “He always seemed like a ‘Richard’ to me.”

“Yes. His mother was Haitian, but he was born in Jacksonville, Florida,” Scapegoat scoffed.

“That explains a lot,” Shaundi murmured. Playa nodded in agreement. Florida had really gone downhill ever since the Quirked alligators had started to breed out of control in the sixties.

“Alright, time to go,” Playa said as he heard a police siren in the distance. “Scapegoat, expect a generous donation to the hospital in a week or so.”

“I look forward to it,” the hero replied.

Shaundi tugged on Playa’s sleeve and dragged him over to a car that was illegally parked in a handicapped spot.

“Hey, better call the guys, let them know it’s okay now,” Shaundi suggested as they got into the car. He nodded at that, and got out his cellphone.

“Johnny’s safe, we made it to the hospital,” Playa texted to his group. “Disengage from the fight and retreat. Return to base to plan for our next move.”

A moment later he got some thumbs up and smiley face emojis from the rest of the Inner Circle.

“So, what is the next step, boss?” Shaundi asked as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

“War,” Playa replied darkly. “If we somehow fail to kill Kazuo Akuji tonight, then we’re going to find Jyunichi, and murder him.”

“Yeah, I like that plan,” Shaundi said viciously. Playa did, too. The Ronin had just signed their death warrants.

“Oh, and I need to tell Twenty-One to spread the word about what the Ronin did to Aisha,” Playa added. Shaundi gripped the steering wheel tightly. He felt the same, and was glad his phone was rated for super-strength Quirks or else it would have shattered in his hand by now.

The Ronin had fucked up. Now, it was time for the court of Public Opinion to eviscerate them. By the time Twenty-One was done posting on the Saints’ social media accounts, the Ronin would have lost any and all allies.

111 &&&&& 111

Shogo paced back and forth, waiting for Jyunichi to pick up the phone. Things had gone badly. Very, very badly. All he had to do was find where the Saints were and kill ‘em. That was it!

And yet, a few hours ago, the internet all exploded as the Saints flooded social media with a startling fact: Aisha Brown, world famous popstar, had actually faked her death five years ago to escape the Vice Kings and the predatory contract they’d forced onto her.  

Furthermore, she’d married Johnny ‘Fuck-Mothering’ Gat, the second-in-command of the Third Street Saints! They’d been living in secret together the last few years under everyone's noses!

Last but certainly not least, was the reveal that it was the Ronin, Jyunichi specifically, who had broken into Aisha and Johnny’s house, and then cut off her head when she refused to help the Ronin’s lieutenant set a trap for her husband.

The fact that Johnny had been critically injured and was on the verge of death was just a footnote to the utter shitshow that had erupted across not just Stilwater but the entire damn country!

The Ronin were being attacked on social media, and in public. Many Ronin had actually abandoned the gang, renouncing their affiliation for it. Others were mobbed in the street, while Ronin affiliated stores and businesses were firebombed or broken into and looted. Aisha had been a home-town hero for Stilwater, and being associated with her murderers was a death sentence for the gang.

Worse was Silver Swan, who was also known as Maya Brown, Aisha’s little sister. She had vowed to hunt down the Ronin for her sibling’s murder, and that was bad news. The Number 1 heroine had been content to just let the Ronin do their thing up until now. She had a lot of reach, and the gang would be in trouble.

‘And Jyun still isn’t picking up!’ Shogo snarled to himself as he glared at the phone as it continued to ring. Nobody seemed to be able to get into contact with him! He was still alive, though, that much Shogo knew. He’d been seen escaping Aisha’s house, and grabbed a car from a Ronin garage, but nothing else.

Finally, though, Jyunichi picked up, his voice coming in through the phone in Shogo’s hand. “Hello?”

“Jyun! What the fuck happened?!” Shogo demanded.

“You left your father to die.”

“Huh?” Shogo snarled. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father’s airplane was scheduled to arrive this evening,” Jyunichi reminded him. Shogo had, in fact, remembered that, but honestly, it had really mattered, not when the Ronin was busy imploding.

“I went to wait for him at the airport. However, there were no other Ronin there, and I spotted numerous Saints watching the place. I had to sneak in, and then wait for Akuji-dono’s jet to land. I then evacuated him in secret while his security detail gave their lives to hold off the Saints long enough for us to escape.”

“My father’s safe?” Shogo asked.

“He is.”

“Let me talk to him,” the leader of the Ronin demanded.

“No,” Jyunichi denied. “He has made it quite clear that anything you wish to say to him can be relayed through me. I am taking him to a safe house, and then picking up dinner from Kanto. If you wish to speak with him, you will have to wait for him to summon you.”

“You ungrateful-!” Shogo uttered, but his bastard half-brother cut him off with a smug “Sayonara,” before hanging up on him.

Shogo stared down at his phone, and several things that had until then remained unknown to him clicked into place.

“Fucker!” Shogo shouted, throwing his cellphone against the wall. It was Jyun who was passing along all of his secrets to his father! It was Jyun’s fault the Oyabun knew about the Ronin’s latest failures! He’d been spying on him all this time!

This would not stand! Without wasting another second, Shogo retrieved a burner phone from a safe in his bedroom wall, and brought out a small slip of paper with a phone number on it. Acquiring it had cost him quite a few favors from that wrinkly old bastard who ran Chinatown, but if things worked out well, then it would be worth it.

111 &&&&& 111

“Where are you?” Playa wondered aloud, staring at a map of Stilwater. Kazuo Akuji had evaded the ambush at the airport. He’d snuck away somehow, leaving some Yakuza behind to cover his retreat.

The veteran criminals had, to Playa frustration, been a match for the Saints he’d sent to the airport. While all Yakuza had been killed, six Saints had lost their lives, and eight more needed emergency medical treatment.

The good news, though, was that the Saints now had a fancy private jet. Kazuo had abandoned it, and the Saints controlled the airport, so he had the flying machine impounded and taken to a private hangar. He’d given the order to have it examined for bugs and any intel on the elder Akuji’s location or plans, but had few hopes for it panning out.

“Playa?” Mink asked as she walked into his office. “Are you okay? Do you need some food?”

“You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Shaundi added, accompanying Mink. Their concerned was touching, but Playa shook his head.

“I’m fine. I can eat when I have my answers.”

“You won’t succeed by starving yourself,” Mink pointed out. “Come on, eat something!”

“We got your favorite~!” Shaundi said, holding up a greasy bag from Apollo Burgers.

“Double bacon with onion rings?” he asked as his stomach rumbled.

“Of course,” she confirmed. He took the bag and sat down at his desk.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he unwrapped the large cheeseburger. “I needed this.”

“We know,” Mink nodded.

Just as he was about to take a big bite out of the burger, his phone suddenly went off, and he grumbled, putting his food down.

It took a minute to wipe the grease off his fingers before he could answer. When he pulled the device from his pocket, he was surprised to see it was caller unknown. Normally he would have hung up, but Playa was intrigued, and so answered it.

“Talk to me,” Playa said.

“Do you want revenge for the bastard who fucked up Johnny Gat?” the caller demanded, voice scrambled.

“What?” Playa uttered, eyes narrowing. Beside him, Shaundi and Mink tensed up as they heard the tone of his voice.

“He’ll be at Kanto tonight. We’ll be able to get our revenge.”

“Huh? What do you mean by ‘we?’ Who the hell is this?!” Playa demanded, but the mysterious caller hung without answering.

He stared at the phone for a moment before growling and standing up.

“Where you going?” Mink asked, though the tone of voice told everyone listening she already knew the answer, and didn’t like it.

“I’m gonna take care of the bastard who killed Aisha,” Playa replied, grabbing his gun.

“Nah, no, nu-uh, not like that!” Shaundi stated, getting in his way.

“Well what do you want me to do?!” he demanded.

“Come up with a better plan, for one,” Mink scoffed. “Or were you planning on fighting him Mano Y Mano?”

Playa blinked. “That’s what I usually do, yeah.”

“Well not this time,” Shaundi declared. “We’re gonna do this differently.”

“How so?” Playa asked. Shaundi told him. A vicious grin smeared itself onto his face. Yes, he rather liked that idea.

A few minutes later, he left the Mission and made his way to Kanto. The fancy-pants restaurant was the most expensive and exclusive sushi restaurant in Stilwater. Some even claimed it was the best on the west coast, though Playa had no idea if it was true or not.

Still, the place was beautiful. It was built like an ancient palace from the Orient with paper windows and wooden paneling. And there was a limousine out front bearing the mark of the Ronin on the license plates.

“Seems like our mystery informant was telling the truth,” Pierce muttered as he parked behind it.

“Sure does,” Playa agreed, dressed in his Skunk costume. “Come on, we’ve got a guy to kill.”

He got out of the car and walked to the restaurant. Upon seeing him, people scattered. When a supervillain goes anywhere, civilians usually flee.

“We’re clearing out the kitchen staff and waiters,” a Saint said, giving Skunk a report on the situation. “Uh, but there’s a couple of Ronin waiting for ya as well.”

“Is Jyunichi there?” Skunk asked sharply.

“Yeah, the bastard is there.”

“Good. Let me know when everyone who isn’t a Ronin has been evacuated,” Skunk ordered.

He stopped in front of the front entrance, waiting. Only when a Saint informed him that the place was empty save for the Ronin did he open the doors, striding in like he owned the place.

“JYUNICHI!” Skunk roared out, his voice distorted ominously by the gas mask.

“So, you’ve found me,” Jyunichi commented as he walked up to face him, staring at Skunk who stood defiantly in the entrance.

“Yup,” Skunk replied, eyes darting around. Ten Ronin, spaced out around the fancy restaurant, ready to react to anything he did and back up the sword-wielding lieutenant.

“Die with some honor, then,” Jyunichi said, and drew his swords, before tossing one of them at Skunk. When the leader of the Saints refused to even look at it, the man scowled.

“Come. Pick it up,” he demanded.

“No,” Skunk shot back. He then sat down cross legged in front of the entrance and lit up a cigar, lifting his gas mask in order to puff on it. After a moment, he blew out a big smoke ring into the air.

That turned out to be a signal, as seconds later, a hailstorm of bullets erupted from outside the restaurant, tearing into the building and ripping apart the room and the Ronin within. Jyunichi managed to parry a few shots, but even he could not stop hundreds of bullets, and he fell, perforated in a dozen different places.

Outside of the restaurant, Skunk had gathered dozens of Saints had stationed them around Kanto, all of them armed with guns. They’d unloaded their entire magazines into the place, firing wildly and without really aiming. The sheer number of guns they were shooting had been enough to bring down the Ronin without issue, though. Not even their Quirks had been able to save them.

Standing up once the shooting stopped, Playa slowly made his way over to Jyunichi’s body and put a bullet through his head. He had already been killed, but it never hurt to double tap.

Mission complete, he walked out, pausing only to grab the sword that had pierced Johnny’s guts and killed his wife, and let a pair of Saints take his place at the entrance. The two Saints were burly Heteromorphs holding large industrial drums of gasoline. Without hesitation they dumped them, letting the drums’ payload spill into the restaurant, flooding it.

Playa flicked his cigar away, tossing it into building as he walked off. The restaurant began to burn as the lit cancer-stick ignited the gasoline and turned the place into a funeral pyre.

Shaundi and Mink had been completely right. He didn’t have to duel Jyunichi one on one. He wasn’t worth that sort of ‘honor.’ Instead, Aisha’s murderer had been jumped gangland style and gunned down by the Saints as a whole.

Johnny was avenged. But there were still a pair of Akujis to deal with, and until then, the war against the Ronin would never be finished.