From now I will put no stuff on top and bottom of chapters, as it messes up the audio.
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The harbor district of Yokohama smelled of salt, rust, and crude oil. It was a graveyard of industrial waste, a maze of shipping containers and dilapidated warehouses that sat rotting at the water's edge. The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, turning the night into a suffocating black shroud.
Perfect conditions for a ghost.
Perched atop a rusted crane, Hawks scanned the target building below. It was a nondescript warehouse, identical to the dozens surrounding it, save for the subtle heat signatures of armed guards patrolling the perimeter and the low-frequency hum of high-yield power generators vibrating through the ground.
"Structure confirmed," Hawks whispered into his comms, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Twelve hostiles on the perimeter. Thermals show at least thirty more inside. Plus... shapes. Big ones. Vats."
Beside him, the armored figure of Dark stood like a gargoyle. The wind whipped at his white coat, but the heavy black armor beneath didn't shift an inch. The glowing blue visor of his helmet cut through the darkness, fixed on the warehouse door.
"Rules of engagement?" the synthesized voice asked. It was a cold, mechanical sound, stripped of all humanity.
"None," Hawks replied, his golden eyes hardening. "The HPSC wants this place gone. The research was destroyed. The personnel... liquidated. No witnesses." He glanced at his partner. "Can you handle that, big guy?"
Dark didn't answer. He simply reached under his white coat.
There was a metallic clack-clack sound.
When his hands emerged, they weren't empty. He was holding two customized pistols. They were matte black, heavy, and looked less like pistols and more like artillery pieces designed for a human hand.
"Guns?" Hawks raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a brawler."
"Asura is a brawler," the robotic voice corrected. "Dark is a soldier."
It made sense. If Akaza went in there, throwing shockwaves and using his signature martial arts, someone might make the connection. To protect his identity, he had to fight like a completely different person.
"Fair enough," Hawks smirked, pulling a feather blade. "You take the front. I'll take the roof."
"Understood."
Dark stepped off the crane.
He didn't use Geppo. He didn't use Soru. He fell, like a black meteor plummeting sixty feet through the dark.
He landed in the center of the warehouse courtyard with a heavy, metallic thud that cracked the concrete.
The guards froze. They were low-level thugs, quirks active — one had spikes growing from his arms, another had glowing eyes. They stared at the armored nightmare that had just dropped from the sky.
"Who the f — "
BANG. BANG.
The sound was deafening. It wasn't the pop of a normal handgun; it was the roar of a cannon.
Two guards dropped instantly. Their heads were simply... gone.
Obliterated by high-caliber rounds designed to pierce tank armor. The remaining bodies slumped to the ground, blood spraying in a wide arc against the shipping containers behind them.
"CONTACT!" a guard screamed, raising an assault rifle.
Dark moved. He didn't run; he stalked. He walked forward, his arms extended, the pistols bucking in his hands with a rhythmic, terrifying cadence.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three shots. Three bodies hit the floor.
A villain with a stone-skin quirk charged him, screaming. "Bullets don't hurt me!"
Dark didn't stop firing. He leveled the right pistol at the charger's chest.
BOOM.
The stone skin shattered like cheap pottery. The round punched a hole the size of a fist through the man's torso. He flew backward, dead before he hit the ground, his blood mixing with the dust of his broken armor.
"Monster!" another guard yelled, firing a quirk-blast of acid.
Dark pivoted. He didn't dodge. He let the acid splash against his kinetic-shielded armor, the liquid hissing and dripping off harmlessly. He raised his left pistol.
BANG.
A clean headshot. The guard crumpled.
It was a massacre. It wasn't a fight; it was a cleaning service. Akaza moved with mechanical efficiency that was terrifying to behold. There was no hesitation, no mercy, no wasted movement. He was a machine designed for death.
Soon, he reached the main doors. They were reinforced steel.
He holstered one pistol and clenched his fist. For a split second, the air shimmered with kinetic energy. He punched the door.
CRUNCH.
The steel buckled, tearing off its hinges and flying inward with the force of a bomb blast. It crushed two guards standing on the other side, reducing them to paste against the far wall.
Dark stepped over the ruin and entered the facility.
Inside, it was a house of horrors. Rows of glass vats lined the walls, filled with green fluid and floating, half-formed Nomus. Scientists in white coats were scrambling, trying to save data or flee. Armed guards were taking cover behind crates.
"Kill him!" a scientist shrieked. "Unleash the test subjects!"
A lever was pulled. Three vats drained. The glass shattered.
Three white Nomus, the lower-tier models, flopped onto the wet floor.
They screeched, their regeneration quirks activating as they scrambled to their feet. They were fast, mindless beasts driven only by the command to kill.
They charged at Dark.
Hawks, watching from the rafters where he had silently taken out the snipers, tensed. Guns won't work on Nomus. They heal too fast.
Dark didn't seem to care. He holstered both pistols.
The first Nomu lunged, its jaws snapping.
Dark caught it.
His gauntleted hand shot out, grabbing the creature by the face. The Nomu thrashed, its claws raking uselessly against his armor.
"Trash," the synthesized voice growled.
Akaza squeezed.
SQUELCH.
He didn't use a shockwave. He used raw strength reinforced by his kinetic armor. The Nomu's skull collapsed under the pressure, brain matter and black blood exploding through his fingers. The creature went limp instantly. He tossed the corpse aside like a wet rag.
The second Nomu leaped at him from the side. Akaza spun, his coat flaring. He drew a long, serrated combat knife from a sheath at his waist.
He didn't slash. He thrust.
The blade, vibrating at a high frequency, sheared through the Nomu's chest, severing its spine. He ripped the blade out sideways, cutting the creature almost in half. It fell, twitching, its regeneration failing against the massive structural damage.
The third Nomu hesitated. It felt fear.
Akaza walked toward it. He grabbed it by the neck and lifted it off the ground. He marched it over to a control console where a scientist was cowering.
He slammed the Nomu's head into the console, over and over again, until the machine was sparking and the creature's head was nothing but a pulp of bone and gore.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
The violence was gory. It was wet, heavy, and sickening. The scientists watched in paralyzed horror as their creations were dismantled like cheap toys.
Akaza dropped the mangled body. He looked at the scientists.
"Run," the voice commanded.
They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled for the exits, screaming.
"Leaving witnesses?" Hawks asked, dropping down from the ceiling.
"They're not fighters," Dark replied, reloading his pistols with a calm, practiced motion. "They're messengers. They'll tell the others what happens when you work for the League."
"Fair point," Hawks said, looking at the carnage. The floor was slick with blood, oil, and chemically green fluid. Bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls. "You really don't hold back, do you?"
"You wanted a sword," Dark said, holstering his weapons. "Swords cut."
He walked over to the main support pillars of the warehouse. He placed his hand on the metal beam.
"Get out, Hawks. I'm bringing it down."
"With what? Explosives?"
"Something like that."
Hawks nodded and flew up, exiting through a skylight.
Akaza stood alone in the center of the lab. He closed his eyes. He channeled his Destructive Death: Annihilation Type energy, but he didn't release it as a blast. He fed it into the building's structure. He found the resonance frequency of the steel, the concrete, and the foundation.
He began to vibrate.
The hum grew louder. The vats cracked. The floor shook. The metal beams groaned, a high-pitched scream of stressing steel.
Akaza opened his eyes.
"Collapse."
He released the energy in a single, omnidirectional pulse.
BOOM.
It wasn't an explosion of fire. It was a kinetic wave that shattered the structural integrity of the entire building instantly. The support beams sheared. The concrete was pulverized.
Akaza used Soru to vanish just as the roof began to fall.
Outside, Hawks watched from the crane. The warehouse didn't burn down. It simply... fell. It imploded, collapsing in on itself in a massive cloud of dust and debris, crushing everything inside — the bodies, the research, the equipment — under thousands of tons of rubble.
A second later, Dark landed on the crane beside him. His coat was pristine. His armor was unscratched. Only his boots were stained with the blood of his enemies.
"Done," the robotic voice stated.
Hawks looked at the ruin, then at the teenager beside him. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. He realized, with absolute clarity, that Nezu hadn't just trained a hero. He had forged a weapon of mass destruction.
"Remind me never to piss you off," Hawks said, half-joking.
"Yeah, yeah. You are totally scared now." Dark replied dryly.
"Come on," Hawks said, spreading his wings. "Let's get out of here before the cops show up. I know a place that serves great yakitori. My treat."
Dark nodded. "Fine. But I'm not taking the helmet off."
"Suit yourself, Robo-Cop."
They leaped off the crane, disappearing into the night, leaving behind a graveyard of villains and a message that would shake the underworld to its core: The heroes weren't just playing defense anymore.