Quirky Row Chapter 42: The Wild Hunt

Chapter 42: The Wild Hunt

(Sunday, January 23rd, 2124)

“Die!” a man with the head of a rooster wearing a yellow jumpsuit shouted at Playa as he charged in with a baseball bat.

The leader of the Third Street Saints held back the urge to groan and roll his eyes, instead keeping his attention on the attacking wannabe villain. Playa didn’t hesitate to unleash a blast of foul-smelling gas straight into the face of the Ronin goon once they were close enough, and they recoiled with a cry, before vomiting messily everywhere.

Having expected that, Playa easily sidestepped the projectile barf, letting it splatter wetly across the alleyway. A firm punch to the Ronin’s chin sent them tumbling to the ground, knocking them unconscious in a single hit.

Playa sighed a bit before hastily leaving, making sure to fill the air with a pleasant lavender scent to erase the stink clinging to him.

“You guys done here as well?” Playa asked, looking over at his companions. Pierce and Carlos were standing over their own defeated opponents, all wearing the Ronin’s ugly mustard yellow jacket.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Carlos said, spitting in disgust onto the body of the man he’d downed. The Ronin had had his ribs caved in by a boot, while the villain Pierce had pulverized by hitting over the head with an armored briefcase was covered in saw dust.

“Their Quirk let them make tiny bits of wood,” Pierce explained when Playa shot him a confused look.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Playa hummed. “Alright, let’s get outta here.”

“No arguments from me,” Carlos said. “Damn… this makes attempt number two on my life this week.”

“This is the third time this week they’ve come after me,” Pierce grunted as they walked away from the trio who’d tried to ambush them. “It’s getting on my nerves!”

“Tell me about it,” Playa sighed. “I got jumped at a laundromat yesterday! Who the hell does that sorta shit?”

“It’s getting wild,” Pierce nodded. “They’re not even trying to play by the Unspoken Rules anymore! I’m worried about my mama! What if the Ronin go after her?”

“I sent my family away to keep ‘em safe. Should be in Las Vegas right now, enjoy the sights. They think it’s for a vacation grandma won at church Bingo last Sunday, so they don’t know how dangerous it is over here right now,” Carlos informed them.

“Smart,” Pierce praised. “I ought to do the same for my mama. She deserves a nice vacation, too. I’m thinking the Bahamas. Or Cabo.”

“Either would be warmer than here,” Playa noted. “I mean, it’s not that cold, but still.”

Winters in Stilwater were rather warm, with it rarely snowing. Given its location off the coast of southern California the warmer weather was appreciated, even if the summers were brutal as a result.

“Still, it’s odd that there are so many of them out and about,” Carlos said. “How do they even have the numbers to sustain this?”

“They’re damn massive,” Pierce replied. “Too many guys they can throw at us. Plus, I heard they been stepping up recruitment. Big ol’ hiring bonuses.”

“Hey, that’s smart. We should steal that idea for ourselves,” Carlos declared, and Playa nodded. It wasn’t a bad idea. Taking away potential allies from the Ronin would only help.

The group made it to their destination, a bistro near the docks. Why were they there? Because Steamy Meats bistro wasn’t just a purveyor of fine meats and sandwiches, there was a dangerous secret hidden beneath the building.

“Hey there,” Playa said, greeting one of the people behind a counter inside the bistro. “I’d like to order a Ruben sandwich made by Doc Roger, please. With a side order of chili-cheese fries.”

The man nodded in understand, ringing up my order. Playa paid for the sandwich, and a few minutes later, got his meal that was wrapped up in parchment paper. He unwrapped it, and out fell a keycard. Playa pocketed it, before eating his food.

Beside him, Carlos and Pierce were eating their own sandwiches. The Ruben was good, and the slightly spicy homemade fries were great. Playa approved.

Once they were done, the trio headed to the bathrooms. Safely away from the other customers and prying eyes, Playa took out the keycard that had been slipped into his sandwich. After wiping some of the grease off he went into the last bathroom stall, and swiped the card through a hidden slot behind the toilet.

The wall next to him let out a grinding sound before sliding open, revealing a staircase lit by strips of electric lights. The trio entered, Playa leading the way, and they descended into the bowels of the building, before going even deeper than the basement of the Mission.

Then, a minute of walking later, they emerged from the stairwell and ended up on a catwalk overlooking an enormous subterranean chamber. Numerous floodlights were bolted to the stalagmites and stalactites, providing plenty of light which let Playa and his companions see that there were dozens of carts, booths, tables and stalls, not unlike a rummage sale, just located underneath the city.

Hundreds of people were milling about, looking through the items for sale. In distance, other catwalks and balconies could be seen, all of which led down into the cavern.

“Ah, the Stone Pit. Been a while since I visited,” Playa said, looking over the sight with a fond grin.

“How long has this place been down here?” Carlos wondered as he looked around in awe and disbelief.

“Uh, sixty years? Yeah, about that long,” Pierce replied. “Used to be a hideout for the Meta Liberation Army when Quirks were still seen as weird and freaky.”

“And now it’s the site of the largest black market in Stilwater,” Playa said. “There are other entrances to the place scattered about throughout the island. They all connect to this cave system, which is part of the Stilwater caverns, though not part of the public tour.”

“Why’d we come in through the bistro, then?” Carlos asked.

“Because it was closer and I wanted to get some lunch,” Playa claimed with a shrug.

“Uh, alright. Who controls this place?” Carlos wondered.

“Nobody, it’s a neutral zone,” Pierce said. “Plenty of independent villains use this place as a way to make deals with each other away from the prying eyes of the law, and heroes will also occasionally visit to acquire things that would be tricky to get their hands on otherwise.”

“Not just Stilwater that makes use of this place,” Playa added. He pointed towards a tunnel, which was connected to what appeared to be an underground lake. “Villains from up and down the East Coast stop by at time.”

“Jeez, how come I’ve never heard of it before?” Carlos asked.

“It’s not something advertised. You either know about it, or you don’t,” Pierce said with a shrug. “Don’t try and post about this online. There are signal jammers so you can’t take photos or access the internet, and if you do mention the Stone Pit on a forum or something it gets taken down pretty quick.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the rules you’ll have to follow,” Playa warned the Hispanic lieutenant. “There’s also the obvious ones. Don’t start trouble, always pay in cash, etc.”

“So, don’t be a douche-nozzle, then?” Carlos asked. “I can do that.”

“Hope so. We’re gonna meet an old friend. He’s… eccentric, so don’t be insulted by anything he says. He likes to try and get rises out of people,” Playa said. Carlos looked confused and a bit unsure about that, but said nothing and followed along behind.

The trio descended towards the bottom of the cavern, and approached the center of the marketplace. It was a colorful little carnival of villainy, with criminals from a number of minor gangs mingling with outsiders from bigger factions.

Playa knew that the supervillain who controlled Los Angeles’ underworld, Red River, had agents in the Stone Pit, and other forces up and down the east coast kept a close eye on Stilwater’s infamous black market. So many people came here, and there was a good reason for it. When All Might had gone on his crusade for justice across the world, a lot of criminal hangouts had gotten wrecked. The Stone Pit had been one of the few to survive, as well as the largest on the east coast.

Most of the people the trio passed in the streets gave the Saints a wide berth when they saw the purple and white gang colors they wore. Even in this place, where everyone was equal and neutrality was enforced, the reputation of the Third Street Saints was overwhelming. A few shot angry glares their way, but nobody dared start anything.

Soon, however, their destination came into view. It was a restaurant, one of several that littered the Stone Pit. But unlike some, which sold questionable, unusual, or outright illegal food and drink, this little shop, the Jasmine Dragon, sold perfect normal – and high quality – tea and noodles.

“Hello, sirs,” a pretty Asian woman with metallic brass skin said in greeting.

“Afternoon,” Playa said politely. “I have a reservation under the name ‘Skunk.’”

“Of course, right this way,” the hostess said, bowing politely before leading him into the store. There, the three Saints were taken to a table with four chairs, one of which was already occupied by a man drinking tea.

Carlos raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could say anything, Playa put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. The young Hispanic lieutenant got what he was saying. This was the man they’d come to meet.

“Ah, my friendly hotdog attacking companion! It has been so long!” a short Chinese man with a black derby hat and a tang suit said in greeting when he spotted them, reaching out to shake Playa’s hand.

“Mr. Wong, it’s been a while,” Playa said, taking the hand and giving a firm shake before bowing his head politely. He then sat down facing him, while Pierce and Carlos took their seats at the table.

“Five years! A while indeed,” the powerful member of Stilwater’s underground community said with a nod. “Good to see manners haven’t left you in that time spent sleeping the days away.”

He then glanced over at Playa’s two companions. “I do not see my old friend Mr. Gat. He is doing well?”

“Johnny’s been doing alright,” Playa said. “Busy because of the Ronin, though.”

“Ah, yes, the wannabe dragons led by a wannabe Yakuza. An insult, they are! Barging in, taking over Chinatown and the other places that are mine by right. Shogo steps on the Triad’s toes, and I find that quite annoying,” Mr. Wong grumbled. “In any other situation I would have made an example of him! But we are not as we used to be. All Might was… thorough in his removal of my mainland contacts.”

“Right, shame about that,” Playa said. “But speaking of the Ronin, we need info. And guns. Shogo’s dad isn’t happy with how he’s handling the Saints, and we think he’s gonna get involved soon.”

“Kazuo is coming here?” Mr. Wong demanded, sitting up, eyes narrowed at that tidbit of information.  

“Probably,” Playa said. “If the Saints keep being a thorn in the Ronin’s side.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Very interesting indeed,” Mr. Wong hummed. “Yes, I can get you more guns and gear. And information. I will keep my ear to the ground in Chinatown. Despite the Ronin strutting around I still have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, and one more thing. I was also wondering if you had any information on something I’ve been trying to figure out,” Playa said.

“Well? Speak, speak, my boy,” Mr. Wong said.

“What do you know about a man who can take and give Quirks?” Playa asked in a low voice, and Mr. Wong stilled.

“Out of consideration for our friendship, I must advise you to stop looking into such a thing,” Mr. Wong warned. “Nothing good will come of it. If such a thing existed, of course.”

“I would if I could, Mr. Wong. But I’ve already encountered something like this before,” Playa said. “The first time, it was some sorta mutant the Brotherhood obtained from the Thule Society. It had several Quirks all mashed together. Then, there was Mr. Sunshine and the General from the Sons of Samedi. Both of them suddenly had new Quirks to supplement their old ones. One of which used to belong to one of my boys.”

“What? No, that is impossible, he is supposed to be dead!” Mr. Wong gasped, eyes wide with horror.

“What the hell is going on, Wong?” Playa demanded.

“If this is true… I will need to reach out to some old contacts,” the elderly Chinese man said, looking nervous. “Speak of this to nobody until then!”

“Who is this man? Who is this ‘Baron Samedi’ the Sons were being backed by?” Playa demanded.

“I cannot tell you,” Mr. Wong said sharply. “And not because I do not know, but because if I tell you his name… he will know. And that will be bad for both of us.”

Playa frowned, unhappy with this, but after a moment he nodded. Mr. Wong’s fear was real, and he could admit he was a bit worried by that.

“Fine. I can wait,” Playa sighed. “What about the first thing, though?”

“That, I can get you,” Mr. Wong said, nodding in relief that this topic was much safer to talk about. “It will be expensive, though.”

“Of course,” Playa said, he motioned for Pierce to approach, and his Black lieutenant handed over the briefcase. Playa unlocked it, then placed it in front of the broker. “One million as a downpayment work for you?”

“It does,” Mr. Wong confirmed, running a hand over the stacks of money nestled within the briefcase. “I will send a runner once I have everything.”

Playa nodded. “Hmm. Now, how about we catch up on lost time over some tea? I’ve missed your blends. They just don’t make ‘em like you do on the surface.”

“Hah! Of course they don’t! These are thousand-year-old recipes passed down in my family for generations!” Mr. Wong declared proudly as he beckoned a server over, who brought three more cups.

A hostess then poured them all a serving of tea after heating the pot with a fire Quirk, and Playa and Mr. Wong toasted each other.

“To old friends,” Playa said.

“To new business!” Mr. Wong replied.

They then drank together, spending the afternoon reminiscing on the past and discussing some of the things that had happened in Stilwater in the last five years. It was a nice break, one Playa was glad for. Being attacked by Ronin death squads day in and day out got old really fast. Plus, the tea was very good.

111 &&&&& 111

“…and we’ll have new product ready to go by Wednesday, along with everything that was taken… with interest,” the leader of the Ronin said, pacing back and forth in front of the most powerful businessman in Stilwater.

“I’m not worried about the money, Shogo,” Dane Vogel told him. “It was insured, and the rest of the damages we sustained were easily dealt with. What I’m worried about is you. I pay you for protection, but I’m not feeling very safe.”

“What are you saying?” Shogo demanded, glaring at the Ultor executive.

“I’m saying that it might be necessary to renegotiate our contract together,” Vogel replied simply.

Ozone permeated the air as small sparks of electricity began to jump across Shogo’s body. “That’s what I thought you were saying,” the young gang boss snarled. He angrily slapped the desk.

“Ultor and the Ronin have been working together for five years without any problems! And then you go and hire some mercs after a single mess up!” Shogo growled, glaring off to the side where the dragon-masked member of the Masako was standing against the office’s wall. He hadn’t moved when Shogo had begun using his Quirk, but his gaze was locked onto the young Yakuza scion.

“Shogo, the Ronin have thrice now failed to fulfill the terms and conditions of our agreement,” Vogel said, not at all phased by the threatening display. “The first two times it was from the Brotherhood, who threatened my physical safety and ruined my lovely office. And now there’s the casino raid. Needless to say, I am not impressed.”

“Just you wait, Dane! My boys are attacking the Saints and paying them back for every insult they’ve given!” Shogo declared.

“Uh-huh. Well, pardon me for saying so, but all I’ve heard so far is how your boys were driving around in Explodium fueled vehicles and caused a huge mess near the highway,” Vogel drawled.

“I’ve got my best man on the job! You’ll see, soon the Saints will be begging for mercy!”

“Let’s hope so,” Vogel replied. “Now, is there anything else you wished to discuss?”

“No,” Shogo said, turning around and leaving, the sparks fading away. “Just you wait, I’ll deal with the Saints!”

When he was gone, Dane Vogel let out a faint sigh.

“How disappointing,” he murmured.

Shogo was a hot-headed young man with a lot of ambition and potential. Or at least, he had been. After the Ronin had become one of the Big Three their leader’s drive had dwindled. He’d been content to rule his little empire, not caring about expanding.

Vogel didn’t really mind, he had gotten what he’d needed out of Shogo and the Ronin already, but it was always sad to see somebody just give up after achieving what they thought of as their dreams. Especially when said dreams were so… small.

“Tell me, Mr. Ryu, what are the odds of Mr. Akuji coming here to Stilwater?” Vogel asked his fire-breathing bodyguard.

“Pretty high, if the Saints keep treating the Ronin as fools. And if Shogo keeps acting this way,” the Masako mercenary replied, the mask distorting his voice slightly.

“Hmm. And what will happen if Mr. Akuji comes here to take over? Will the Third Street Saints stand a chance?” Vogel wondered.

“The Saints are strong and have talented members, but the Oyabun of the Akuji Clan is old and experienced. He survived the chaos of the Quirk Wars, the upheaval of the Age of Villainy, and the arrival of All Might which ended said age. The Yakuza as a whole may be a shell of their former selves, but that doesn’t mean we can count them out of the fight just yet,” Ryu admitted.

“So you think the Saints will lose, then?”

“I’d tentatively agree with that,” Ryu said slowly. “But at the same time, the Saints have shown themselves able to constantly overturn the board and overcome the odds. Five gangs, each with villainous members even I would be hesitant to go up against, have all met the same fate. It will be more even than most would care to admit.”

“Interesting. Everyone else I spoke to believes that Mr. Akuji will win, hands down,” Vogel commented.

“My companions are perhaps a bit biased,” Ryu admitted. “We are Japanese, after all. Everybody likes to root for the home team, after all. Even if they are… less than ideal as far as people go.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Vogel agreed with a nod.

“In the end, it doesn’t really matter. We’ll be gone in six months,” Ryu said with a shrug. “And one way or another, everything will be resolved by then.”

“So, it’s a battle to see who will win between the old guard, and the new wave of the future?” Vogel mused to himself, a faint chuckle escaping him. “Neat. I kinda want to see how this all plays out.”

He then turned his attention back to work, only to frown when he found that his computer had gotten fried by Shogo’s Quirk when he’d slapped the desk earlier. Dane Vogel groaned, then called his receptionist to call in somebody from IT. There was always something to deal with, wasn’t there?

111 &&&&& 111

A phone rang, the sound echoing through a parking lot, and Jyunichi calmly answered it while still leaning against the side of his sports car.

“[Moshi, moshi,]” he muttered.

“Jyun, tell me you’ve got something,” the voice of Shogo demanded in his ear. “And speak English, damn it!”

“I am meeting with a contact,” Jyunichi replied. “I will let you know as soon as I have anything.”

“You better find some info soon, damn it! I want results! And I want heads to roll!” Shogo growled. He then hung up, leaving the Ronin’s second-in-command to hold in a sigh.

‘Shogo has been getting more anxious and irritable these past few days,’ Jyunichi mused to himself. ‘The Saints have proven to be illusive and our father is not one to tolerate failure.’

If Shogo couldn’t produce results soon, then the Oyabun would have to make an appearance in person.

Jyunichi gave a mental shrug. If this was what it took to get Shogo motivated, then so be it. Hopefully once the Saints were dealt with, everything would be better as well.

While he was thinking to himself about his boss’ mood, the sword-wielding Ronin heard somebody approaching, and he glanced over in the direction they were coming from. A moment later a slender figure appeared, walking through the large parking complex, keeping to the shadows the whole time. They were a young woman, and dressed to be inconspicuous, though it wasn’t easy.

Shogo gave them a nod. “Good day. Do you have any information for me?”

“Some,” his contact replied. “The Saints have been cracking down hard on any leaks. It wasn’t easy to get this.”

She handed over a slip of paper, and Jyunichi took it. Four names were on it, along with addresses.

“Is this all?” he asked, disappointed. “They aren’t all that high-ranked, either. Not even lieutenants.”

“Those were the only names I managed to get ahold of without giving away my cover or intentions,” his spy retorted.

“Very well, it will do for now,” Jyunichi sighed. “And here. My end of the deal.”

He went to his car and popped the trunk, then got out a paper bag. The woman opened it and examined the contents closely before nodding.

“Excellent,” she murmured.

“Try to bring me better intel next time,” the Ronin requested.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Jyunichi,” his contact warned him, her voice low and threatening.

“Of course,” Jyunichi replied, giving a slight nod of understanding. “Now… what’s next?”

“For me, I have a dress rehearsal to get to. For you? Probably taking care of those names on the list,” the spy replied flippantly, before walking off.

Jyunichi shook his head as he got into his car and left the parking complex. ‘What a bitch,’ he thought to himself. ‘Still, better to have close relationships with a hero I can use than an antagonistic one.’

Yes, things really did go smoothly when you had friends in high places!

111 &&&&& 111

(Monday, February 7th, 2124)

Two weeks had gone by, and the fighting between the Ronin and Saints had only heated up since Playa’s meeting with Mr. Wong.

Four Saints and their families had been killed in that time. Or rather, ‘executed’ was the proper word to describe what had been done. The Ronin had discovered where the members had lived, broken in, and tortured the inhabitants before cutting off their heads and leaving them outside the door to their homes. Nobody was spared. One of the families had had children for God’s sake!

None of them were all that highly placed in the gang, but even a single death was a terrible hit for the Saints. For that, they would pay.

The Saints retaliated. Hard. Ronin and Ronin affiliates were gunned down in the streets. Businesses who served the Ronin were attacked.

Yet the Ronin just kept fighting, even going so far as to drag the police into it. They would lure Saints into traps, or towards patrolling heroes, then run away and leave the Saints to deal with the mess.

Hence why, when Johnny had called a meeting to discuss a plan to hit back at the Ronin, Playa had agreed and summoned all of the Inner Circle, as well as the most trustworthy lieutenants to his office.

“The Feast of the Moon is coming soon, on the 10th to be precise,” Johnny announced without preamble once everyone had gathered. “And we need to be ready for it.”

“And for the people who don’t know what that is?” Playa asked, raising a hand. Johnny blinked at him from behind his sunglasses before nodding.

“Ah. Right. Well, for those who were in a coma for the last five years, The Feast of the Moon is a Ronin ‘celebration’ that takes place during the Asian Lunar New Year,” Johnny said. “To be precise… it’s a… how to put it…”

“It’s an orgy of violence and showboating,” Shaundi scoffed in disgust. “Every year, the Ronin would show off their wealth and power by doing three things during the Lunar New Year: a banquet for the high-ranking Ronin. A night of drunken debauchery for the lower ranks. And last but not least, a Wild Hunt style motorcycle rally and race throughout the city where the Ronin attack random civilians in the streets and burn down shops and buildings controlled by other gangs.”

“So, it’s like an Asian version of the Purge?” Playa asked, eyes narrowing.

“Not a bad comparison, despite the incredibly old movie series reference,” Johnny admitted.

“I liked the Purge 13th, It’s Purging Time. Best outta the series,” Pierce admitted.

“I dunno, Purge 21: Dirty Dancing wasn’t bad,” Carlos added.

“The point is that the Ronin are gonna do some shitty things out in the open, and the heroes will have their hands full trying to contain it,” Johnny said, getting back to the main issue. “The Feast of the Moon will be bad news for us, since there are no other major gangs to split the Ronin’s focus. They’ll come after us directly.”

“So what are we gonna do about it?” Playa asked.

“We hit ‘em first, obviously,” Johnny declared. “I’ve had my informants digging into the plans for this year’s Feast, and I’ve found two important pieces of information: where Shogo and his lieutenants will be holding the banquet, and the garage where many of the Ronin’s motorcycles for the Hunt will be stored and tuned up.”

“Ah, I see. We’re gonna bomb the banquet and the garage!” Shaundi guessed.

“Actually, no,” Johnny admitted, causing everyone to stare at him in shock.

“You what?” Playa asked. “Johnny, are you feeling okay? Normally you’re all for blowing shit up!”

“Yeah, but this time, there’s gonna be some ‘special guests’ at the Ronin’s banquet. We’re gonna have to rescue them.”

“Who is it?” Playa asked.

“The Mayor’s daughter, and Troy’s family.”

That immediately sent the room into a flurry of whispers and gasps. Mayor Monica Hughes wasn’t much like her husband, as far as Playa could tell. No scandals or the like, either. He knew nothing of her policies, though she seemed to be trying to help the city, even if she publicly – and privately – despised the Saints.

What really interested Playa though was the second group of people the Ronin were going to kidnap.

“Troy had a family?” Playa asked, surprised by that tidbit.

“Yeah. Husband and two kids,” Johnny grunted.

“Husband? Oh, right, I do recall him mentioning he was gay that one time,” Playa muttered. “Didn’t know he was married, or had adopted any kids.”

“That happened after the coma,” Johnny informed him. “Though Troy and his husband were apparently dating in secret before that.”

He then lowered his sunglasses. “What’re we gonna do, boss?”

“As much as I hate Troy and despise the mayor’s ex-husband, the Saints exist to protect the civilians from the gangs,” Playa declared without a shred of hesitation. “We’re rescuing them all.”

Everyone nodded at that, a few like Shaundi cheering in support.

“Johnny, you no doubt have a plan. Let us hear it,” Playa requested.

“We can’t let the Ronin kidnap any of the people on the list, because trying to bust them out of the Ronin’s HQ will be too risky. Too high a chance of getting the hostages hurt. So to save ‘em, we’re gonna kidnap ‘em first,” the Saints’ second-in-command said. “Now, based on previous track records, the Ronin go after the banquet’s victims the day of, usually a couple hours before the Feast of the Moon. We’re going to have eyes on them the whole time.”

“And the Ronin’s garage?” Shaundi asked.

“Don’t worry, we’re still gonna blow up the Ronin’s bikes at the garage I located. But we need to do it carefully, or else they’ll know something’s up. We hit that place the moment they try and kidnap their victims. That way, we cripple the Ronin’s ability to respond,” Johnny stated.

“Clever,” Pierce hummed. “I like it. And look at you! Actually planning shit instead of rushing in, guns blazing!”

“Hey, I can be tactical and shit!” Johnny shot back. “It’s just more fun doing it the other way!”

Everyone had a good laugh at that, before they settled down and listened in to Johnny’s plan.

“Now, listen up! Here’s who’s gonna be watching over who…”

111 &&&&& 111

(Thursday, February 10th, 2124)

“Papa P, this is Saucy S, I have eyes on the Ronin, here. Do you see ‘em on your side, too?”

“No, Shaundi. Still nothing on my end,” Pierce replied. “And please don’t use that codename!”

“Negative, Papa P! Jimmy G insisted!” Shaundi snickered. Next to her, Mink also giggled, amused by the byplay.

There was a groan from Pierce before he hung up, the phone going silent. Content with her victory, Shaundi leaned back in the driver’s seat.

“You shouldn’t tease him,” Mink scolded from her spot in the passenger’s seat, but it was half-hearted.

“I know, but it’s too fun!” Shaundi declared with a laugh.

“So, Missy M, what do you think?” Shaundi inquired a moment later, squinting out of the car window at the trio of Ronin who were stalking Mayor Hughes’ daughter.

Andrea Hughes, the sole child of Richard and Monica Hughes. She was a teenager attending her first year of Stilwater U, and was very much the definition of a bratty nepo-baby. She had dyed blonde hair and wore scandalously skimpy booty shorts with a hot pink crop top. Her Quirk was an interesting fusion of her parents. Her mother could generate blue lightning. Her father had been able to grow metal spikes. Andea could manipulate electromagnetic forces, bending metal to her whim as well as creating currents of purple electricity. She was also in the Hero Course at Stilwater U, and was interning under Silver Swan with the name ‘Gauss.’

“Unless those Ronin aren’t wearing any metal then they’re about to have a bad time,” Mink huffed. “I used to go to school with her, you know? That bimbo act she puts on? A total scam. She just does it because nobody expects her to actually be smart. But she is. And ruthless. She could probably kill all three of them before we step in to help.”

“Really? Then why are we even here?” Shaundi asked, blinking in surprise.

“Because Johnny – sorry, Jimmy G – said they’d be sending a Ninja after her, one with a Quirk who could negate hers,” Mink reminded her.

“Ah, right, yeah,” Shaundi hummed. “Oh, looks like things are about to get spicy!”

A van with a crudely painted yellow stripe on the side pulled up next to Andrea, and the three Ronin behind her ran forward, planning to shove her into the vehicle.

Shaundi and Mink were already moving, shotguns in hand. They leapt out of the car, twin roars from their boomsticks echoing through the air, sending the random people on the streets screaming and running for cover. A few also stuck around and whipped out their phones to start recording the event.

The two girls from the Saints blew apart the knees of a pair of Ronin. They collapsed, screaming in agony as the rounds tore their limbs to pieces.

Andrea was no slouch in combat, either, a bunch of nails, screws and ball bearings shooting out of her purse, the former immediately piercing the tires of the van while the latter shattered the windows of the vehicle and bones of the driver.

That just left the final member of the Ronin trio, who had reacted as soon as the shooting started by leaping into the air and sticking onto the wall of a nearby building.

Mink and Shaundi thought he had some sort of wall-climbing Quirk, but it turned out it was actually a form of suction force, which he displayed by dragging Andrea towards him, a small whirring sound like that of a vacuum filling the air.

“His Quirk lets him turn his hands into vacuum cleaners?” Shaundi asked. “Weird.”

“Yeah, but he’s clearly found a way to use it as more than a way to clean his room,” Mink pointed out as the Ronin used his Quirk to clamber away, Andrea in his clutches. The suction force was strong enough to let him adhere to vertical surfaces without issue, which was kinda neat.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s the sort of thing that can stop Andrea,” Shaundi pointed out. A moment later, she was proven to be correct as bolts of purple lightning burst from the kidnapped girl, electrocuting the Ronin trying to escape with her.

“Huh, I guess we must have shot the Ronin who had the anti-Andrea Quirk,” Mink mused and Andrea fell to the ground. She landed on her feet, stumbling a bit, before brushing dust off of her hands.

She then glared at Shaundi and Mink, hands sparking with electricity. “You two gonna try something next?”

“No, we’re actually here to rescue you,” Mink said, lowering her shotgun.

“What, are the Saints in the business of saving damsels, now?” Andrea asked with a smirk.

“We’re in the business of thwarting Ronin schemes,” Shaundi replied.

“I see… let me guess, the Ronin wanted me to ‘participate’ in their Feast of the Moon bullshit?” Andrea guessed.

“That’s right,” Mink nodded. “Come on, we’ve got a safehouse where we can lay low.”

“Hmph, fine, but if this is a trick, my mother will hear of this,” Andrea huffed with a haughty toss of her hair.

“You mean you’ll ask your mother to cover it up for you after you go hog wild on everybody,” Mink said, rolling her eyes as the trio returned to the Eiswolf. “Like the time you kicked the asses of those bastards who drugged a couple of cheerleaders.”

“Heh, yeah, that was fun,” Andrea snickered. She then squinted suspiciously at Mink. “Hey, wait, how’d you know that?”

“We went to high school together,” Mink replied.

“Oh. Huh. Neat,” Andrea muttered, not recognizing the pink-furred girl. “Well, whatever. Let’s get going.”

They got inside the car before driving off, speeding away towards the safehouse. It was in the docks, and Shaundi called up the rest of the team while driving there.

“Saucy S here! We saved Andrea!” Shaundi announced. “We’re on our way back to the hideout!”

“Good! The Ronin are finally moving in on the targets on my end. Gonna step in to rescue them now!” Pierce replied. “See you at the safehouse!”

“Godspeed, P,” Shaundi muttered as he hung up.

“Who else are the yellowjackets after?” Andrea wondered, having overheard.

“Chief Bradshaw’s family,” Mink said, and the college student winced.

“Eesh, the Ronin aren’t fucking around, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Shaundi agreed. “But Papa P and Chubby C are on the case!”

Mink let out a snort at Carlos’ codename but said nothing as the trio drove off.

Elsewhere, Carlos was watching Pierce as the older lieutenant put away his phone.

“Shaundi again?” Carlos guessed.

“You know it,” Pierce grumbled. “Now come on, we’ve got a guy to save.”

The two got out of their purple Capshaw at the same time a quartet of Ronin made their way towards a rather nice house in the middle of Stilwater’s upper-class suburbia. It was firmly in the Suburbs district of north-western Stilwater, and very much under Ronin control. It was why Carlos and Pierce were taking every caution, because one wrong move would see the area swarming with yellow clad gangbangers.

“In and out,” Carlos muttered as Pierce turned on the car.

“In and out,” Pierce agreed. He then put his foot down on the accelerator and shot forward while channeling his Quirk into the body of his car, the Capshaw soon running over two of the Ronin as they approached the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Carlos jumped out of the car, a pair of submachineguns spraying bullets into the last two members of the Ronin.

Pierce got out and followed Carlos as he ran over to the front door and kicked it down before entering it.

“Who the fuck are you?!” a Latino man shouted in fear as the two Saints barged inside.

“We’re here to help,” Pierce said before grabbing Luko Bradshaw and tossing him over his shoulder. Then, he ran out, throwing Troy Bradshaw’s husband into the back seat before sliding back into the Capshaw with Carlos.

“That went well,” Carlos noted. As they pulled out of the blood-stained driveway, the sound of motorcycle engines in the distance reached their ears, and Pierce grimaced.

“You jinxed it,” he grumbled as he quickly used his Quirk on the car. Just in time, too, as bullets started to plink off of the reinforced body of the Capshaw as several Ronin opened fire on them.

“What is this, a double-kidnapping?” Luka wondered in bewilderment.

“The Ronin were gonna kidnap you, so the Saints decided to do it first, but nicer,” Carlos assured their guest. “Your kids are safe, too.”

“The kids?!” Luka demanded, sitting upright. “They went after our fucking kids?!”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, Johnny and the boss are on it!”

“That doesn’t exactly reassure me,” Luka groaned.

“Hey, they’ll be perfectly safe!” Pierce said, even as he sideswiped one of the Ronin off the road.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Luka sighed.

Indeed, over near the middle school where Playa and Johnny had picked up Troy’s two adopted kids, the youngsters were both extremely excited to be meeting the legendary Saints themselves.

“Did you really kill Maero with both hands tied behind your back?”

“Can I shoot one of your guns?”

“What’s it like to be a supervillain? Does it pay well?”

“Wicked! Did you see how far that guy’s arm went flying when you hit him?! Do it again!”

“Rambunctious little shits,” Johnny muttered, though there was a note of fondness in it as he glanced back at kids who were properly wearing their seatbelts in the back of a lime green Voxel.

Troy’s kids were cute, Playa mused as he drove away from the school, running over another Ronin much to the cheers of joy of his passengers.

They were a ten-year-old girl named Dolly and a twelve-year-old boy named Stan. The girl’s Quirk made her look like an actual Doll, complete with joints on her limbs and body. Meanwhile, the boy had a Heteromorphic Quirk that turned him into a slime-person made of semi-opaque blue goo and all with his organs freely floating around inside his body.

Neither of them were scared. Well, they had been a little bit spooked when some Ronin had tried to break into their school and steal them away, but they’d immediately gotten super excited when two of the most famous supervillains in Stilwater had swooped in to save them.

Now they were rambling away as they practically bounced in their seats, happily talking about everything and anything.

“Hey kids,” Johnny said. “Uncle Johnny is gonna turn on the radio for a bit.”

“Are you really our uncle?” Dolly asked eagerly.

“Well, your dad and I did run together in the Saints before he decided to become chief of police,” Johnny replied.

“Cool!” Stan exclaimed happily. “I can’t wait to tell everyone at school!”

Johnny snorted and then turned on the radio, flipping through the channels until he found a station that was playing one of Aisha’s songs.

“New song of hers?” Playa asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t recognize it. Then again, there was five years of music he was missing out on.

“Sorta. It’s a remix of an older song,” Johnny revealed. “It’s called ‘Triumvirate.’ Aisha made it to celebrate the fall of the Big Three five years old. She’s revamped it for the new generation.”

“Won’t that make people believe she’s still alive?” Playa asked, lowering his voice so the kids couldn’t hear. No reason to let them know Aisha the superstar wasn’t actually dead, after all.

“Pretty sure most people think it’s been AI generated and altered,” Johnny mused. “At least, according to the rumors on the internet.”

“That you spread, no doubt,” Playa laughed. “Hey, call the others, I want to know if they succeeded as well.”

“Sure thing,” Johnny replied, shooting off a group text to the other two groups. A moment later, he flashed a thumbs up. “Good news, it worked!”

“Heh, awesome,” Playa grinned. “I bet Shogo is hopping mad!”

“He’ll be even more pissed when our little ‘gift’ in his bike garage goes off,” Johnny grinned. The two laughed, the kid joining in as well, even if they didn’t know what was so funny.

111 &&&&& 111

Shogo was mad. No, actually, that didn’t do it justice. Shogo was furious. He’d planned on this year’s Feast of the Moon to be a real spectacle to assure the Ronin and his various supporters in the city that he – and by extension the gang – were still a force to be reckoned with. And what better way to show off his power than by kidnapping the mayor’s daughter as well as the family of the chief of police?

Shogo wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t going to hurt them. That was a step too far, and a good way to get every hero in Stilwater, even the ones on his payroll, to come after him. But it would remind everyone that the Ronin were not a joke! That they were to be taken seriously!

Then the Saints waltzed in and swiped the hostages right out from under his men’s noses! Somehow, they had figured out what he’d had planned to do. That, or he had another intel leak, one he’d have to find and plug immediately.

A music sting had Shogo grimace in annoyance. ‘And then there’s that damn song!’ Yes, Aisha’s producers had decided to remix one of her old songs about the Saints beating up the old gangs, and very pointedly changed certain lyrics to references the Brotherhood, Sons of Samedi, and Ronin. It was an insult!

‘At least it can’t get worse,’ Shogo sighed. He still had the motorcycle rally to blow off steam later tonight.

An explosion suddenly rang out, and Shogo took a deep breath as a pillar of smoke and flames rose up in the distance, visible from his apartment window.

“Jyun, please tell me that that wasn’t where the motorcycles for the Wild Hunt were being stashed?” Shogo demanded, voice filled with barely suppressed rage.

Jyunichi winced and said nothing, unable to lie to him. That just made things worse, and with a cry, Shogo drew his katana and began to hack apart the furniture and furnishing in his room, leaving devastation in his wake.

Once his fury petered out, Shogo panted as he stared at the state of his room, before sheathing his blade.

“Get somebody to clean this up,” Shogo demanded as he stalked out. “And Jyun? I want the Saints to pay for this!”

His right-hand bowed his head, murmuring something in Japanese. Shogo was too mad to even care.

111 &&&&& 111

“That bitch,” Maya uttered, scowling at her laptop’s screen. The numbers on it didn’t lie, and it made her furious. It was bad enough the Saints had gone and ruined everything again. She’d been planning on taking down the Ronin that evening when they went on their annual murderous motorcycle rally. But then Skunk and the rest had blown up over fifty percent of the Ronin’s motorcycles!

Since the idiots had still been using Explodium for fuel, the whole city had heard the explosion. Her contacts had informed her that the Feast of the Moon this year was going to be significantly less impressive. Furthermore, the Saints had gone and kidnapped the mayor’s daughter as well as the chief of police’s family! Eye witnesses had reported the Saints had also defended them from the Ronin, but the point remained!

However, that wasn’t the reason she was fuming. No, it was the current data on her latest popularity polls as well as the numbers for her recent musical releases, both of which had taken a hit throughout the day.

“How did she manage to hit the top of the rankings in one fucking day?!” Maya wondered angrily, running a hand over her face. Aisha’s ‘remix’ had completely overshadowed her own new single, and it had dropped like a brick down the rankings.

If that wasn’t enough, Aisha was once again one of the top searches on the internet. Her upcoming events had fallen to the wayside in the commotion, and her agents were scrambling to try and drum up buzz and hype once more to get people talking about her in order to help her numbers.

It wouldn’t work. She’d have to wait for the excitement over her big sister to die down.

“You always do this shit,” Maya grunted angrily. Even when they’d been kids, Aisha had been the favorite child. Pampered and fawned over by their parents because she was born Quirkless. Her parents had not been Quirkists, but they had believed that because Aisha didn’t have a Quirk, it made her weak, and she had to be coddled and protected. It left her own little sister to get next to no attention because they believed she could take care of herself. Sure, she could, but it hurt to always be second-fiddle to Aisha!

Not even their parent’s death at the hands of Los Carnalos ended that special treatment. Aisha was discriminated at times, but her ‘Quirklessness’ ended up being her big selling point when she became a pop singer.

‘Oh, look at the poor Quirkless girl! Feel bad for her and maybe listen to her latest album while you’re at it! She made it all by herself too!’ One would think that such a condescending tactic wouldn’t work, but it did. It was honestly insulting.

Worse, a lot of Maya’s own popularity was built entirely off the fact that she was Aisha’s sister. It was enough to give a person a complex!

“What does the Quirkless whore have that I don’t?! Why am I always losing to her?!” Maya seethed, before pulling out a burner phone and dialing a number only she knew. “Hey, Jyunichi? I have some intel for you if you’re interested…”