[yaguro]

The streets of Shinjuku were dark at night; Dark, and quiet, with only the occasional blare of loud music from a passing car.

This was not ideal location for Taiyo Korazan, bigwig businessman. Walking through dirty sidewalks, he clearly did not fit in to this environment; His clothes consisted of a sharp, pressed grey suit with light black lines, matching pants, and gold cufflinks. His glasses were square and prim, and the red tie and matching red handkerchief in his shirt pocket completed his look.

His hair contrasted the rest of his appearance, being quite curly and puffy, making it look far more American than Japanese.

“I swear, the company doesn’t appreciate me enough for taking these out-calls…” He grumbled to himself, lamenting the terrible situation he was in.

“Ever since my idea pitch overshadowed the boss’s, he’s giving me all dud assignments…Like he’s trying to…” Hefting his suitcase, Taiyo paused as he felt gazes creep onto his back.

A young man, no older than twenty, had set his sights on the fish out of water, and grinned. The teen wore a studded leather jacket, jeans help up with a chain belt, and had piercings on his nose and lips. Though across the street, as soon as Taiyo crossed his path, the punk got up from his relaxed position and started to walk towards the businessman, who quickened his pace in turn.

As he walked, Taiyo watched as two more matching punks crept out of the shadows. The first wore a midriff cut jean jacket and a tank top that read “Fuck It” in Kanji, and a tall neon green mohawk that stood out from his darker clothes. The other was a short guy, had a black studded jacket, and multiple necklaces on, most completed by small metal skulls.


The trio formed up behind their prey, and the leader of the group walked in front of him, turning around and continuing to walk backwards, but slowing his pace. Taiyo quickly glanced around for some way to get away from the group, but with the second punk on his side, the only place left to turn was a dark alleyway, with nothing but a dumpster and busted up door. Walking into it, Taiyo backed up nervously until he reached the wall, and was ultimately trapped.

Pleased with their tactic, the three punks exchanged grinning glances to one another.

“Hey…Mud…I think we met someone.” The necklace wearer spoke up, keeping eye contact with the nervous man they’d cornered.

“Yeah…Either of you know him?” The leader, seemingly named Mud asked.

“Oh, yeah, I think I do…” The mohawk punk replied, taking a few steps forward. “Yeah, this is John Banana…John Banana!” The other two cronies snickered.

“Seriously man, what the fuck is up with that hair?” He asked insincerely, reaching out and ruffling Taiyo’s hair. “You a half n half or somethin? Hey, how bout you show us your documents, then we’ll know for sure…Bet its in that briefcase!” Reaching out, the punk grabbed at the briefcase; Taiyo struggled back as panic started to set in, and he yelled out.

“H-Help! Help!”

Just as the mohawked thug was about to wrestle the briefcase free, he stopped and suddenly jolted as he heard a loud banging sound behind him.

The other two gangsters turned around as well in response, with the shorter one pulling out a switch blade.

“Who’s there?! Ain’t nobody tryin to be a hero a hope…” Mud taunted, glancing around.

Another banging sound; Closer this time, and followed by a scraping sound, as if someone was dragging something through the pavement. When the sound finally stopped, a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway; As he drew closer, his features became clearer; A black hoodie, jeans, and a helmet-like mask. The stranger had a baseball bat in one hand, and as he walked closer, he drug it behind him, making the same sound as before.

He kept drawing near, until he was only a couple feet from the small mob. Stopping, the two groups stared each other down; The thug holding Taiyo dropped him, and turned around as well. Turning his hand into a metal ball, he asked, “Who the hells this?” Breaking the brief silence.

“Eight-O’s…I thought you were still active." The helmeted figure spoke, voice muffled by his headwear.

“But this is new jurisdiction for you…Did the Army Mob and Hunters run you out of your old shithole?”

The trio of gang members just stared back, trying to assess the threat this vigilante posed; Mud winced a bit at the mention of the Army Mob.

“Why dont’ca just get lost…” The knife-wielder spoke up, taking a step towards the unwelcome newcomer. “We’re tryin to have fun here…”

“Well, what do you know…” Clenching his bat tightly, the vigilante swung it hard against the punk’s head, making impact with a loud CLUNK.

“So am I!”










One Eight-O already on the ground bleeding from a single swing, a good start to the evening, Yaguro thought. It had been a while since he’d been out patrolling, and ever since his arrest, he had been actin more carefully. Three members of a gang that was hardly more than a group of bullies? Easy practice.

“You’re dead!” The next gangster, one with a quirk that turned his fists into iron, swung on him, but the vigilante sidestepped him and hit him hard in the back with his bat, sending him crashing into the brick wall. The thug started trying to get up; Only to be swiftly put down by a kick from Yaguro delivered to the head, followed by a bat to the ear.

Turning back to the now lone assailant, Yaguro cockily twirled his bat in his hands. Though unseen through the helmet, he had the biggest smile of his life.


“You want some? You want some?!” The final Eight-O yelled angrily before charging at the vigilante. Yaguro stood his ground, and swung his bat right into the guy’s leg, who yelped in pain and fell to the ground.

“O-ok! I give! I give!” The punk begged, grabbing his leg.

“You give? What were you gonna give that douchebag in the suit?” Yaguro asked in a deadpan voice, crashing his bat into Mud’s ribcage, who grabbed it in pain.

“In a better society, you’d be too piss scared to even try something like this…But until then…” Another kick to the guy’s already wounded stomach. “I’m here!”

And he kept on kicking the gangster in the chest…It was only when Mud activated his quirk, giving his body a spring like quality, did he manage to get to his feet and start trying to flee.

“Where you goin? You’re not done yet…” Yaguro stated angrily, chasing Mud out into the street, and into a maze of alleys.





“…” Taiyo picked himself, still breathing heavily from the encounter. Dusting himself off, he gripped his suitcase, and watched as his savior chased after the last standing gang member.



“…I’m need a fucking raise…”

[Nanashi Kishi]

?

The footchase drew attention from a party neither of those involved were immediately aware of. An entirely unrelated task had a certain someone perched on a rooftop, peering into a distant hotel window, waiting for the perfect moment for a puff of smoke, a tinkling of glass, and a slumped body to be discovered in the morning.

It really didn't do to bite the hand that fed you.

The elaborate gun was slung over the slender figure's shoulder as they stood, dusting off their knees and turning to wander into the alleys below- only to catch a couple thugs chasing each other, one with a metal bat. They weren't  an Eight-O, like the idiot at the front, or- upon cursory inspection of the alleys they'd left behind- the morons who'd been floored back there.

So who was the guy with the bloody bat, then?

The slender figure gave chase on the rooftops, kneeling to touch the roof's surface and catapult himself across, using a thin tendril of material each time to return the roof to its previous state mid-air and erase any indication of the quirk in use. 

Time to see what happened when the cat caught the mouse.

VICTIMS: 1

yaguro

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

First rule of Yaguro’s school of interrogation; Beat the hell out of them first, so they’ll be more inclined to spill information as to avoid further beatings. Second rule, don’t let the guy get away.
…In the vigilante’s defense, he had been out of the game for a while.
The Eight-O’s were usually just hopped up punks, the helmeted man hadn’t expected one to be so slippery; Especially after how carelessly they’d shaken down the businessman. For a minute, he debated reached into his hoodie and pulling out his piece, taking a shot at the guys legs to take him out; But that would mean noise, and noise would mean attention.
If he had his quirk, a quick blinding would be in order, a favorite interrogation tactic of his; But now, it was time to improvise. Just before Mud could get out of sight, Yaguro grabbed a metal trash can lid, and chucked it like a frisbee, hitting the punk in the back of the head and bringing him down.

“Bingo.”

Sprinting over, Yaguro spotted the Eight-O scrambling to his feet, and downed him with a swing of his bat. Grabbing the goon by his collar, the helmeted vigilante pressed him against the wall; Not hard enough to hard, but pinned enough to prevent escape.
“Relax, I just want to ask a couple questions.” Yaguro growled, annoyance in his voice. “Like what rock Razerback is hiding under?”

Mud whimpered in response. “I-I dunno! We don’t get much contact with the big guy! When things go down someone just lets us know where to be!”

The vigilante gritted his teeth behind his mask, unsatisfied with the answer. Slamming Mud into the wall hard, he kept trying to probe the gangster. “Who? Who tells you?”

“Big bald guy! He goes by Cue Ball! That’s all I know!” The punk was talking louder, loud enough for anyone in the area to hear, and, he hoped, come get this crazed vigilante off his ass.
In response, Yaguro grabbed his 1911 out of his jacket at pressed it right up against the guys neck. “Bad answer. I want a place.”
“The Urchin Lair!” Mud shrieked out, prompting Yaguro to press the cold metal of his gun harder against his victim. “Quieter.” He hissed, sending a clear message.

“The Urchin Lair…” The gang member was now whispering to avoid getting a bullet. “It’s a couple blocks from here, I can take ya…”
A better answer. Yaguro slipped his handgun back into its holster, and dusted himself off. Setting up to calmly walk away, he suddenly gripped his bat and swung it into Mud’s face, knocking him out cold.
“Thanks for the information.” The vigilante stated, the informant no longer conscious. Thankfully, he knew where the Urchin Lair was, and since Mud was too low on the totem pole to be of any further help, there was no need to drag him along just so he could squeal for help as soon as the doors opened.

“Great, the Urchin Lair…They must hang out in one of the back rooms…” Making sure he was locked and loaded, Yaguro started to head towards the lowlife bar, intent on shaking down more gang members for information…

[Nanashi Kishi]

?

A series of odd events occurred to follow. A gun was in play, but not in use; instead, a garbage can lid was hurled like a chakram to smash the fleeing thug's legs out from beneath him. A few more bat blows to soften him up, and then he was pinned again, left with no options but answers anymore. Answers were received- he was looking for Razorback, and the best lead was Cue Ball, at the Urchin Lair. Satisfied, the vigilante smashed the thug out cold and started towards this Urchin Lair.

... only for the bricks of the walls around him to clatter and shift, twisting in front of him to block his path. Or at least appearing to- the majority of the bricks were left in place. The appearance of a shifting wall was more than enough for Occham's purposes.

"You should really rethink wandering in there alone with nothing but a bat, a gun, and somewhere south of a dozen bullets before a reload."

The voice came from behind Yaguro, from the snazzily dressed fucker standing with a much bigger gun slung over his shoulders, peering at Mud and pushing him into the shadows- and leaking runoff- of a dumpster with one very nice shoe.

"You want information from this Cue Ball guy, right? To get more leads on your actual quarry. You go in guns blazing, you're gonna basically have to fight every single payrolled mook in that building before you have even a chance of a sit-down with the bald kahuna. Presuming he's bald. Cue Ball kinda suggests that, but what do I know from strangers?" The lanky fellow strode down the alley towards Yaguro, touching the wall with a seemingly gloved hand and reversing the blockade, holding up a finger. "But if the room he's in suddenly only opens out into a door you're using? Well, now you only have to put down his guard dogs."

The figure stopped a few paces outside of baseball bat range. "Name's Occham. And your work's of interest to my employer. Having street cleaners unconcerned with getting their hands dirty is something of an advantage over having to directly eliminate competitors. How do you feel about steady work?"

VICTIMS: 1

yaguro

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

This was certainly unexpected; Not the bricks closing in, the workings of a quirk, that was par for the course these days; But someone moving in to stop him?
Hearing a voice, Yaguro drew his handgun, twirling around and pointing it in the direction of this interloper. Judging from their clothes, this clearly wasn’t an Eight-O; From the clothes they were wearing to the rifle they were packing, this clearly wasn’t some small timer.

Listening to the guy lecture him, the vigilante kept his gun trained right at the forehead, training it on him the entire time.
It was only when Occham drew closer and revealed his name that Yaguro lowered his gun a bit.
“You’d be surprised at what a bit of steel and iron can accomplish.” He argued back, keeping his gun in one hand and bat lowered in the other. “I’ve been around the block more than a bit, so I know what I’m doing.”
Narrowing his eyes behind his helmet, Yaguro tried to analyze the suited stranger. “Though I get the feeling you do too.”
Whoever this person was, the punk got the feeling that if Occham wanted him dead, he’d be on the ground already.
Best to just hear them out.

“A bit rude of you to presume you know what my plan is; I’m no fool, you really think I’d kick open the door, open fire and draw in every cop within a mile radius?” Opening his hoodie back up, Yaguro slipped his gun back into its holster; More of a sign of good faith than anything else; The bat would be more effective at this range anyway.
“Just who exactly are you, huh? You work for the mob?”

[Nanashi Kishi]

?

"Oh, I guarantee you I would not, indeed, be surprised by that. And I'm quite positive you've been around a block or two, but the fact remains- there's only so much work you'll be able to do with a bat before somebody- you or someone else- makes enough noise to bring the rest of the complex down on you. And maybe you could handle that, but I was wagering that you'd see an advantage in not HAVING to fight past a platoon of goons before getting to the fat cat," Occham said simply. At the comment about game recognizing game, Occham tipped his hat.

"The mob. No, I don't. The mob, in fact, either works for my employer, or is running scared, depending on the strength of their respective senses of self preservation." Ah, but he had asked another question, hadn't he? "Who... who is but the form following the function of what," he said, holding up a single finger. "-and what I am, is a man in a mask. And yes, of course you can see that. I'm not insulting your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man... who he is."

VICTIMS: 1

@leonid

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

If this guy wasn’t working for the mob, that didn’t leave a whole lot of options. If he was from the government, he’d be attacking by now, right?
Yaguro was an unlicensed vigilante after all, it would only stand to reason that a dog working for the officials would be at his throat by now…

“In case you didn’t know, the Eight-O’s are practically nothing BUT goons; Each one I take out with this bat is one less piece of trash on the street.” Twirling his bat around, he used one hand to knock the brick wall next to him, leaving a sizeable dent.
“Maybe I like conking heads in. Its therapeutic, cheap, and I’m damn good at it.” Lifting his bat back up over his shoulder, he turned and started heading out of the alley and towards the bar. “Tell you what; How about you help me out with the two-bit gangsters at the Urchin Lair, and I’ll listen to your business proposal; I’m intrigued for nothing else than finding who you are at this point.”
The hideout was only a couple minutes walk from where he was, and though from the way he strolled it seemed he didn’t care if Occham followed him, in reality this masked individual was far more interesting than shaking down more gang members.
But playing hard to get was fun; Or at least he figured it would be. This was about the first time someone was looking for him.
In any case, if Occham tried to leave or didn’t follow him, he planned to chase him down; This rabbit hole was too appealing to ignore entirely.

[Nanashi Kishi]

Nanashi Kishi

Japanese Special Assault Team

The gunsmith

yaguro | 555 | notes

The blank mask stared back at him, tilting faintly. "I know who the Eight-Os are. The EMPHASIS was on the not having to fight PAST them, not on their obvious goon status." There was a hint of "no, duh" in the tone, but disguised enough that it was clear there was an attempt being made at politeness.

Occham followed along as he wandered off. "You know what, sure~ show me what you can do. The less I gotta do, the better you look. You lead the way and hit them how you like. I'll watch your back and make sure it doesn't go TOO far south on ya~"

Gimme a reason! It don't gotta be a good one.

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

Yaguro grinned under his mask as Occham agreed to follow him; If this shadow investor really was interested in him, they may be obliged to give him an even bigger salary than they previously thought after he showed how to take care of business.
“Good, good. Urchin Lair’s not too far from here, so just follow me.”
So long as Occham did follow the vigilante, they would arrive at their destination within just a few minutes. A hole in the wall bar, windows lit up with flashing lights, and the stench of spilt alcohol polluting the air.
Figuring it was best to go in light as to not arouse suspicion, Yaguro tossed his metal bat into the adjacent alley, intent on picking it up later. “After you.” Opening the door to let Occham in, the pair’s ears was suddenly blasted by loud rock music.



Various gang members crowded around the bar, many of them clearly members of the Eight-Os. One group of them played a game of pool, another dancing like lunatics close to the jukebox.

Following the masked figure inside, assuming they went in, Yaguro would spot a pair of unoccupied bar stools, and direct his accomplice to them.
“I’ve been here before, their policy on masks is pretty relaxed; And the last time I ran into the Eights I had a different helmet.” Whistling to the barkeep, Yaguro looked around and quickly spotted the backroom door, guarded by a taller man wearing a tattered jean jacket, and enough piercings on his face to open his own jewelry store.
“Anyway, my plan is to go kick the guards ass through the door, then go in and get what I want out of Cue Ball.” Thankfully, the music was blaring far too loud for anyone other than Occham to hear what he was saying.
“Though, I am open to suggestions.”
Seeing as the bartender hadn’t noticed them yet, Yaguro yelled over, wanting to get a quick booze in before everything went down. “Hey! Barkeep! Two rum and cokes!”

[Nanashi Kishi]

Nanashi Kishi

Japanese Special Assault Team

The gunsmith

yaguro  | 223 | notes

"Nono, my friend. Allow me." Occham stopped Yaguro from hurling the bat aside, taking it and...

Well, it wasn't clear WHAT he did. It disappeared in a thin haze of dust, but that was... it. Poof. "I'll produce it when you need it again~"

"Urchin's Lair. Interesting choice of establishment title," murmured Occham on Yaguro's heels. "Urchin's usually a kid on the streets. Wonder if it intends to imply underage drinking or just happens to on accident," chuckled the suited fellow as he wandered along behind his new "friend."

He swept in ahead of Yaguro and stepped aside to let him in and select their perches, moving to settle on the barstool indicated.

"Well, if you're looking to make a personal impression, it's not the worst idea, though you're setting yourself up to get slammed from both sides- both by whoever's out here and everyone inside. If you're up for that, it's a great plan. I can help make sure your back is covered, if you like. OH, and if you want your little friend for your grand entrance, just say the word~" And, sure enough, if he asked? Occham would reproduce the bat from what seemed like nothing~

Gimme a reason! It don't gotta be a good one.

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

Well that was an interesting parlor trick; But it made having to find his bat again later easier.


Inside the bar, Yaguro took note of Occham’s words. It wasn’t his most thought out plan, and could use just a tiny bit of extra planning.
“Hm. Yeah, maybe you’re right. Having to fight through an entire bar full of goons isn’t that smart.”
As their drinks came to them, Yaguro quickly downed his, then started to reach inside of his hoodie.
“I think I’ll even it up a bit.”
Feeling around until he found the trigger of his handgun, he discretely started to aim it upwards. Hidden in sound by loud music and view with his clothing, he fired a round off at the ceiling, specifically right next to the fire alarm.
Grazing the device was enough to set it off, and a loud blaring alarm replaced the rock music filling the place. As soon as the sprinklers started to go off, most of the bar patrons simply bolted for the exit, not wanting to stay in a potentially dangerous situation, and not bothering to question where the fire was, if any.
Leaping off his barstool, Yaguro started to make his way towards the bouncer to the backroom; The guy seemed disoriented, confused as to whether to abandon his post. Just as he was about to open the door to the back, presumably to regroup with his gang, a fist flew in his face, followed by another; A final kick sent the unfortunate Eight-O through the door, landing at the feet of a fatter man, bald and wearing an adorned jean jacket.

Cue Ball looked down at his unconscious cohort, one hand covering his eyes from the spray of water above. His gaze became fixated on the vigilante responsible, and a visceral rage filled his body.
“Who the FUCK are you?” Snapping his fingers, the three other Eight-Os in the room started to crack knuckles and draw weapons, already enraged at their night being ruined by the alarm.

“Bat.” Holding out his hand, his baseball bat materialized, and he quickly grabbed it and charged forward, crashing his weapon into the egg shaped man…
Who proceeded to look unphased.
“Bat? What kind of fucking response is that? I’ll tear your fucking head off!” Ducking his head down, Cue Ball headbutted Yaguro.
Through the gangsters quirk, Yaguro flew farther than he would have normally, almost as if he got hit several times in a row, and the momentum built up.

Crashing into the bar and breaking several expensive bottles of gin, Yaguro picked himself back up, and opted to swap to his handgun, opening fire on the gang members.
While the lower ranking members took cover, Cue Ball just let his head take the brunt of it, leaving little more than bruises each time.
“Come on you fucking loser! I’ll show you who to mess with!”
Emptying his clip and starting to reload, Yaguro peeked over at Occham.
“Ok, he’s sturdier than I thought. If you got any ideas, I’d execute them now…”
Motioning a thumb, he pointed out Cue Ball was now slowly starting to approach, kicking aside the remnants of the unhinged door on his way.

[Nanashi Kishi]

Nanashi Kishi

Japanese Special Assault Team

The gunsmith

SOLO | 336 | notes

As Yaguro called for his weapon, Occham- somehow- materialized it out of nowhere and tossed it his way, letting him engage in his own manner... and sighing lightly as it all went sideways immediately. "Well, that's just a shame," he tskd, shaking his head as Yaguro, having literally kicked the door in, proceeded to open fire. "Didn't you say this was exactly what you weren't gonna do? Ah, actually, I suppose you DID add "and call in the fire brigade" on top of "kick the door in and open fire, calling down every cop in a mile radius," so. Congratulations on staying true to form and NOT doing... ONLY what you said you wouldn't!"



Despite the flying bullets and rampaging thugs, Occham seemed entirely unconcerned by the situation as a whole. Granted, unlike Yaguro, he was rocking a Quirk-fashioned suit of nano-thin armor under the nice duds, but the confidence presented well even if it was a bit of a cheat.



"Interesting choice of words," he said as he reached lazily over to touch the cinderblock wall of the basement bar- and an instant later, the three thugs backing up Cue ball were replaced by stained, unnaturally smooth concrete pillars jutting through clouds of red mist.



"Do forgive my compatriot, Mister- Cue Ball, was it? I'm afraid he's a bit overzealous at times," he said as the enraged gangster lunged forwards, lifting a hand to gently touch the massive man's chest as he brought his head forwards- and without warning shivered and slumped to the floor as Occham deftly sidestepped his slurring, groaning form. Bruises splotched all over his body rapidly, betraying the devastating damage that light touch had inflicted, as if he'd been struck from all over with brutal force, or somehow been broken down from the inside out.



"That's better~ now, do try to focus while my compatriot questions you~ we haven't much time before emergency services arrive, and we'd much rather be gone by then~"

Gimme a reason! It don't gotta be a good one.

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

Yaguro growled at Occham’s critism of him. “Hey, the last time I tangoed with the Eight-O’s the only tough one in the bunch was Razerback! I guess they hired more muscle since!”
The last time he’d had encounters with the Eight-O’s was before he was sent to prison, around a year ago.
“Guess a lot can change in a couple months…”

What happened next was horrifying. Cue Ball’s three backup members were killed instantly; Yaguro almost felt bad; The Eight O’s were mostly troubled teens and young adults; And now these three were blood stains on the ceiling.
The big man himself didn’t fare much better, being reduced to a bruise covered lump on the floor.
The vigilante was thankful he was wearing a helmet, since he didn’t his new potential employer to see the absolute terror on his face. For a second he glanced at his bat, which had been rematerialized by Occham; Was it going to suddenly explode on him, or smash him into the wall?

No, this monster would’ve killed him already if he wanted to…Right?
Getting up, Yaguro moved over to Cue Ball. It was hard to look at the overweight man, clearly enduring the worst pain of his life.
“Tell us where Razerback is and we’ll let you go. Simple as that.” Yaguro kept his threat short, not wanting a terrified voice crack to surface.
“It hurts! It fucking hurts!”
Was the only response he got.
“You want it to stop hurting? Start talking.”
Through gritted teeth, Cue Ball finally responded. “Phone! Side pocket! We’re all in a group text! Make it fucking stop!”
Yaguro reached down, and grabbed Cue Ball’s phone quickly, not wanting to be in any more contact than he needed to be; If that crazy quirk was contagious, he didn’t want to test it.
“Alright, we got what we came for, I got someone who can hack into this.” The phone was cracked all over, but likely from years of abuse and not the recent altercation.
“You can release him now, and we can go somewhere more private to talk. That work?”

Yaguro wasn’t above killing. He tried to avoid it usually but was fine wasting people that deserved. But this? This looked hellish, and he didn’t want to watch anymore.
“Fire department should be here soon anyway.”

[Nanashi Kishi]

Nanashi Kishi

Japanese Special Assault Team

The gunsmith

yaguro | 555 | notes

"And that is why you do your research and engage in a manner which allows you a chance to observe before having to discover, firsthand, whether or not you're entirely outmatched," Occham stated calmly, unconcerned at the angry growl.



"Of course it hurts. It's torture, it's not meant to be pleasant," remarked Occham in a particularly matter of fact tone before letting Yaguro handle the interrogation. Once he had what he needed, the suited gentleman bent and touched Cue Ball, and the man passed out- as his body completely lost all signs of damage.



"There. All better. Now- ah, a moment." It took a few more moments of work, but the concrete pillars retracted, and apparently, it was just as easy for Occham to rebuild the bodies of the crushed individuals as it was for him to reassemble the bat. In moments, there was just four unconscious bodies in perfect health, and two standing villains wandering their way out.



"Hack that? Mm. Easier if-" A touch. That's all it took, and the damage vanished. Pristine. Restored to perfect condition, that phone, without a scrap of change to its contents.



"There~ now. Let's away before we complicate things with the authorities, shall we~?"

Gimme a reason! It don't gotta be a good one.

Template by: Monkey

[yaguro]

Research, research, research…Worst part of the job, but a part that Yaguro was admittedly neglecting. It’d been so long in the slammer he’d forgotten his fundamentals…
But who was this guy to call him out on it?


Watching as the stone pillars retracted, Yaguro’s eyes widened as he saw the bodies of the three gangsters he thought had been crushed into a pulp. Was it all an illusion, courtesy of a quirk? Or did Occham’s powers run deeper than he thought? Fear turned to confusion as he examined Cue Ball’s groaning, barely conscious form.

“So…Did you actually kill those guys and bring them back to life like some sort of hell bound messiah…Or are you more of a ‘poofy poofy hat trick’ magician sort?”
Yaguro asked as he took the newly repaired phone in his hand and ran a finger through its flawless sheen.
“In any case, we probably do want to get out of here.” Moving through the door to the backroom, Yaguro walked back the three unconscious Eight-Os, tapping one with his foot to make sure they were really there, not just a mirage.
Kicking open the back door, Yaguro checked the back alley, making sure the coast was clear, and motioned for Occham to follow him.
Should he be accompanied, he’d take the privacy to confront his accomplice a bit.
“Ok, if we’re working together, you got to tell me what you did back there, and, more importantly, who you’re working for. If you keep helping me take on shit eating gangs like that, I’ll gladly join whatever payroll you’re offering.”