05-06-2018, 10:56 PM
He needed those Japs alive. At least one of the three, actually. But it would make his life hell if two of the three Yakuza perished on his watch. It would probably translate into some sort of sleight of honor or other bullshit.
The first flare of fire whipped his attention in the kid's direction. The dagger in the night was... the kid. Ryker grit his teeth and pat his pockets for his knife.
But it wasn't there. Luckily, the one that sliced his favorite coat was abandoned. Its owner lay in a puddle of blood. He scooped it up, doffed his coat since it was ruined anyway, and braced for the flare to come.
He drank in the power that sprang to life amid the pain. That glorious power pulsed his veins even as they dripped their contents down his wrist.
He walked forward, summoning fire and death. As the russians fell, others turned in a rage to confront the new attacker. He wrenched the guns from their hands with the flick of a wrist, a grin blossoming from the ridges of his face.
Unlike the kid, he wanted this to end quickly. His arm was fire, but fading. Time grew short.
Two wise russians ran for their lives. Bodies were slumped at the feet of the three Yakuza. Ragged, but standing.
Ryker shared a look with the kid as he came closer, measuring the sense of his power as he did. It was meager, but deadly all the same. He would not turn his back, but it explained the cockiness from the bar.
Maybe it was some strange sense of comraderie, or the sharing of the blood of battle, but he offered the kid the courtesy of not telling him to fuck off, and instead he presented himself before the Yakuza.
"You are alright?"
He asked, just as a hand clamped on his ankle. He turned, growled at the dying russian. With a spike of air summoned to his hand, he fell with all his weight and plunged it into his chest.
When he stood again, he swiped the dirt from his pants and checked for more life that needed extinguished. Finding none, he curled his arm close and clamped his other hand around the wound.
"It would be my honor to escort you to your destination as repayment for this debacle, Sato san."
He held the older man's gaze firmly. The words were spoken, but the request was non-negotiable.
He kept an eye on the kid as he did, unsure of his game in all this.
The first flare of fire whipped his attention in the kid's direction. The dagger in the night was... the kid. Ryker grit his teeth and pat his pockets for his knife.
But it wasn't there. Luckily, the one that sliced his favorite coat was abandoned. Its owner lay in a puddle of blood. He scooped it up, doffed his coat since it was ruined anyway, and braced for the flare to come.
He drank in the power that sprang to life amid the pain. That glorious power pulsed his veins even as they dripped their contents down his wrist.
He walked forward, summoning fire and death. As the russians fell, others turned in a rage to confront the new attacker. He wrenched the guns from their hands with the flick of a wrist, a grin blossoming from the ridges of his face.
Unlike the kid, he wanted this to end quickly. His arm was fire, but fading. Time grew short.
Two wise russians ran for their lives. Bodies were slumped at the feet of the three Yakuza. Ragged, but standing.
Ryker shared a look with the kid as he came closer, measuring the sense of his power as he did. It was meager, but deadly all the same. He would not turn his back, but it explained the cockiness from the bar.
Maybe it was some strange sense of comraderie, or the sharing of the blood of battle, but he offered the kid the courtesy of not telling him to fuck off, and instead he presented himself before the Yakuza.
"You are alright?"
He asked, just as a hand clamped on his ankle. He turned, growled at the dying russian. With a spike of air summoned to his hand, he fell with all his weight and plunged it into his chest.
When he stood again, he swiped the dirt from his pants and checked for more life that needed extinguished. Finding none, he curled his arm close and clamped his other hand around the wound.
"It would be my honor to escort you to your destination as repayment for this debacle, Sato san."
He held the older man's gaze firmly. The words were spoken, but the request was non-negotiable.
He kept an eye on the kid as he did, unsure of his game in all this.