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Quirky Row Chapter 31: Party Crashers
🕑 Added 2025-01-30 17:00:02 +0000 UTCChapter 31: Party Crashers
(Saturday, November 13th, 2123)
A cold wind tore through the streets of Stilwater, and people hid away from the chilly weather. The roads were empty, and the stores were closed early for the day.
There was a tension in the air, and everybody knew why. Several hours ago, Veteran Child had informed the world via the internet that Shaundi, one of the Third Street Saints, was going to be executed, and her torture was going to be streamed live.
Nobody, not even the Ronin, were stupid enough to think that this wasn’t a challenge, and that the Saints wouldn’t rise to the occasion.
The heroes and police wanted to interfere, to try and get both gangs in one fell swoop, but Skunk had sent a tersely worded letter to Troy.
‘Get in my way, and the city will burn.’
With a threat like that hanging over their heads, the Chief of Police had been forced to pull law enforcement away from the blast radius. They could at least handle any looters or minor crooks who might try and do some crime while everyone else was watching the clash between gangs.
Skunk had spent hours organizing everything, and the time for the ‘party’ was soon approaching.
The Saints rolled out. There weren’t a lot of them. Most of the gang was actually on standby, guarding their territory and making sure the Sons didn’t try anything.
As such, only twenty members of the Saints were heading out to fight. But among them were their top fighters. Skunk, of course. Johnny and Pierce, aka Defender. And a bunch of other vicious bastards who had the training – and thanks to the Brotherhood take down, the weapons – to deal a lot of damage.
“This is where it’s going down?” Skunk demanded, looking at the location where the Sons were.
“We traced their connection. Wasn’t hard. They’re not exactly tech-wizs,” Johnny snorted.
“Plus, the camera feeds don’t exactly hide anything. Anybody familiar with the interior of the site would be able to identify it based on sight alone,” Defender added. In fact, several Saints had done just that, being able to ID the club it was taking place in based on the furniture and layout of the room the video clips had revealed.
“But seriously, here?” Skunk demanded, his tone incredulous as he stared at the night club. After all, why wouldn’t he be? The place they had tracked the DJ’s live-stream to was in the Barrio district, practically the Saints backyard! On Track wasn’t a Saint controlled building or business, but it had been Brotherhood for a time, and as such it should be technically under the purple-themed gangs’ protection. How had this slipped past the Saints?!
“From what we’ve been able to dig up, On Track’s owner was a hardcore supporter of the Brotherhood,” Johnny said, helpfully explaining the situation. “Not a card-carrying member, but sympathetic to the cause. He was smart enough to lay low when we dealt with the more overt Brotherhood supporters in the wake of Maero’s death, but it seems Veteran Child was able to convince him to loan out the club for a bit for this event. Suppose the owner’s hate for the Saints overwhelmed his common sense.”
“Fine. When we’re done here, deal with him,” Skunk ordered. “Make sure On Track comes under Saint control after this. Buy the deed and staff it with our own men. And double-down on keeping an eye on our territories, I do not want this shit happening again.”
“Gotcha,” Johnny assured him.
“And Shaundi? Is she doing alright?” Skunk asked.
“So far, it seems like she’s been left alone,” Carlos, or rather, Pork Rind, said, looking down at his phone where the livestream was playing, albeit muted. “Haven’t fed or water her, and refused to take her down from that crucifix, so she’s, uh, probably really needs to use the bathroom. But beyond that, she’s untouched. Though they’ve been bringing in all kinds of torture tools. Some of that shit’s medieval, too. Or recreations of it. Wonder where the hell they found any of it?”
Skunk grunted in acknowledgement, relieved Shaundi hadn’t been hurt yet. Seemed like Veteran Child really wanted to wait for something before hurting her. But what?
He shook his head. It didn’t matter. “What about the rest of the Saints?” Skunk inquired. “And has Shaundi’s villain identity leaked?”
“No, thankfully not. With Mink dressed up as Rafflesia and doing the rounds to throw people off of Shaundi’s villain identity, we should be fine on that front,” Defender said. “And the rest of the gang is tense, but sticking to the plan.”
“Good. Now, I think it’s time to move out,” Skunk declared. He then nodded off to the side where a pickup truck was parked. In the back was a large fog machine, and it began to whir to life, pumping out clouds of thick, obscuring artificial mist.
Then, one of the Saints with an aerokinesis Quirk stepped up and began to weave the fake fog around the rest of the Saints and the entire block. Soon, the street was covered, and the Saints marched forward towards the night club.
“Flash ‘em and gas ‘em,” he instructed his men as they neared the entrance. “If they retreat or surrender, spare them. But if they fight back? No mercy.”
None responded verbally, although Johnny displayed his understanding of the orders by pumping a shotgun. Loaded with rubber slugs and beanbags, of course. For now. In fact, over half the Saints were armed with non-lethal weapons and ammo. They didn’t want to accidentally hurt Shaundi or the strippers and employees in the crossfire, after all.
Upon reaching the door, Defender lashed out with a boot, kicking the door open while holding up a riot shield to protect against any incoming shots. The rest of the Saints funneled in behind him, flashbangs and tear gas grenades being hurled over his shoulder.
Although the place looked like it was just a single story building, On Track actually possessed multiple floors. They built down instead of up, resulting in several floors below ground. The top floor consisted of a bar and lounge area with a hole in the floor that let people look down onto the spaces below. Below that, the second floor was more of a transition area, used to travel to and fro the top and bottom and give people a place to rest with seating along the edges. The lowest floor was where the party scene was at, with a dance floor, another bar, and a DJ station from which the music filling the place originated.
And as the Saints entered, they instantly noticed that the night club was packed. It was a sea of green, with over fifty Sons of Samedi within, stationed on the various floors, and all of them were armed.
They were caught off guard, but recovered quickly, firing wildly at the entrance. But Defender’s Quirk enhanced riot shield deflected all the shots, allowing the flashbangs to go off, blinding the Sons.
The screaming quickly began, with the strippers and staff retreating out the back. Not a single Son did so, however. Seeing that, Skunk knew the club was going to have an outrageous cleaning bill in the aftermath.
With a sigh, he raised his new gun, which he’d affectionately named ‘Aromatherapy,’ and pointed it down at Veteran Child, who was set up with a large DJ station near the stage on the lower floor.
“Holy shit, guys!” Shaundi exclaimed as she looked up and saw her friends busting in to save her. “Bout time you showed up! I was getting tired hanging up here all day!”
“We’ll get you down soon,” Skunk promised. And then he fired one of his custom stink-bullets at the DJ’s face. The lieutenant just ducked and laughed as the bullet exploded and filled the air with a foul odor. In fact, none of the Sons seemed to be reacting.
“You thought we wouldn’t have some way to counter your only trick?!” Veteran Child cackled. “Looks like tonight I get to livestream the death of the leader of the Saints himself!”
“Huh, so it seems Scapegoat was telling the truth,” Skunk muttered to himself. The General’s Quirk really did have the ability to negate more than just a person’s sense of pain. It could wipe out other senses as well. In this case, smell.
‘Well, it’s not like that’s all I can do,’ Skunk thought as a firefight broke out.
Johnny leapt into the fray, laughing maniacally as he blasted away, knocking the bastards off their feet. The other Saints followed his lead, firing at them with bullet and Quirk. It was pure violence, and the club was immediately transformed into a chaotic battlefield.
Meanwhile, Defender was making his way to the stairs so he could head down to Shaundi in order to rescue her. Once she was out of the way, the Saints could really let loose.
‘At least the tear gas and flashbangs still work,’ Skunk mused as he watched a Son double over with tears pouring from all eight of his eyes, while another one stumbled around, blind as a bat. Ironic, considering he was a bat Heteromorph.
Skunk, however, was focused on one thing only: getting close to Veteran Child and ending him.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Not only was he at the lowest level of the club, the DJ’s Quirk let him fling sonic blades everywhere by redirecting sound and noise from around him, and the loudspeakers were able to hurl veritable explosions at the Saints as they tried to fight their way down.
The only reasons Skunk wasn’t taken out immediately was because Veteran Child had to carefully aim his sonic blasts and he didn’t want to team-kill his fellow Sons of Samedi.
But the Saints pushed on. The ground floor was taken, leaving glass and blood everywhere. Then they pushed down the stairs and took the second floor.
Getting to the bottom floor was trickier because of the sheer number of gangsters crowding the area. A lot of smoke and flashbangs had been used to disorient them, but the Sons of Samedi weren’t backing down at all.
“Fuck!” Johnny swore, ducking back as several bullets shot apart the wall near him. “Gonna have to switch to lethal rounds soon!”
“Fine!” Skunk called back. “Just keep your shots away from Shaundi!”
“I know!” the Quirkless lieutenant shouted.
Quirks and bullets began to fly ever faster, and the chaos was obliterating everything. The Sons were effectively pinned in place, unable to leave without driving off the Saints. They weren’t going to surrender.
And then things for the Saints started to turn. One of the Saints fell, and Skunk ran over to him in the hopes of rendering medical aid, only to see that he’d taken a shot to the head from a giant crystal spike, killing him instantly. Another Saint was killed a moment later as a sonic blast from Veteran Child tore him to pieces when he tried to leap over the railing to reach the bottom floor, and a third, while not killed, lost an arm to a four-armed machete-wielding Son.
“We have to stop these bastards!” Skunk declared furiously. “Defender! Can’t you get any closer?”
“Can’t! The way is blocked!” Defender growled in annoyance. “There’s a guy with a barrier making Quirk preventing me from getting down the stairs!”
“Then just jump over the edge!” Johnny shot back.
“What?! That’s insane!” Defender exclaimed. “If I do that, Veteran Child would have a clear shot at me, and my Quirk doesn’t do so well against attacks that aren’t solid!”
“Well think of something else to do, and fast! We’re starting to be pushed back!” Johnny snarled.
And he was unfortunately right. The Saints had had a very impressive initial showing thanks to the element of surprise. It had let them capture the first floor of the night club without much incident. But that advantage had faded. Worse, the Sons who were on the dance floor at the bottom were clearly elites with powerful Quirks and well-trained in the use of weapons.
Veteran Child had picked the spot to lay an ambush well, and turned the night club’s dance floor into a killing floor.
“Shit! Fuck!” Skunk growled, looking around in an attempt to find something that might help. He then recalled seeing a few couches and padded chairs on the upper floor, and a mad idea sprang forth from his mind.
“Defender! To me!” he ordered, and after a bit his lieutenant made it over to his side.
“What’s up? Got a plan?” Defender asked hopefully.
“Yeah, follow me back up to the top floor!” he ordered. Confused, Defender nonetheless did so.
When they did, Skunk patted one of the couches. “Think your Quirk could affect this?”
“Well, it doesn’t work very well on things that aren’t homogeneous,” Defender said slowly. “I could probably make the upholstery stronger, but not the frame.”
“Good enough for me! Quick, grab one end, and help me get this into position,” he said.
Defender and Skunk hoisted the couch and dragged it over to the edge of the railing that overlooked the bottom of the club.
“Oh, no. No, this is a bad idea, boss!” Defender said nervously as he realized the plan Skunk had thought up.
“Come on, this way we can get down onto the dance floor and avoid Veteran Child’s sonic attacks,” Skunk said.
“If we die, I’m totally blaming you,” he grumbled, but he still went through with it. He and Skunk jumped onto the couch, their bodies causing the precariously balanced piece of furniture to topple over the edge.
Defender quickly activated his Quirk on it as they fell. Veteran Child’s sonic blasts ripped large chunks out of the couch as it dropped, padding flying through the air, but the cushions were thick enough to take the hits. Then, when it finally slammed heavily onto the dance floor, it didn’t kill or hurt either of the Saints riding thanks to Defender’s Quirk softening the impact.
Glass littered the floor, but Skunk and Defender ignored it. Skunk immediately began to shoot the boomboxes and loudspeakers Veteran Child was using to make his Quirk so dangerous, while Defender shot the Son with the barrier Quirk in the back.
Without the barrier or the DJ’s deadly music, the way to the dance floor and Shaundi was finally opened, and Johnny charged in, his shotgun blasting Sons apart with ruthless efficiency.
“Your time is up, Veteran Child!” Skunk shouted at the Sons of Samedi lieutenant.
“Do you really think you can kill me that easily?!” Veteran Child snarled, pulling out a submachine gun and spraying the area, no longer caring about who else he might hit in the process.
“Considering how things have turned out so far?! Kinda, yeah!” Skunk laughed. “You might have gotten rid of your sense of smell, but I don’t need that to take you out!”
“Bastard!” the DJ screamed, shooting at Skunk. A barrage of bullets narrowly missed Skunk, and the leader of the Saints dodge rolled out of the way, firing at Veteran Child without stop.
The DJ was quick on his feet however, able to retreat across the stage towards Shaundi, no doubt about to try and take her hostage.
Skunk tried to aim at him, but his injured arm twinged and his shot went wide, missing Veteran Child by a mile.
“Ha! Loser!” the DJ sneered, but thanks to his attention being on Skunk at the moment, he completely missed it when a stray shot from somewhere in the churning melee clipped him in the right leg.
He collapsed with a surprised yelp of pain, and Skunk took the chance to run over to him and stomp onto his other leg. There was a crack as bone broke, and Veteran Child let out a shriek as he was immediately crippled.
Throughout the club, the fight was winding down as the Sons were overwhelmed by the Saints. Johnny’s viciousness was quite impressive and had been decisive in helping end the violence, and there was a bunch of destruction and debris all over the dance floor.
“Hate to break it to you, but this is the end of the road,” Skunk said with a smirk as he loomed over Veteran Child.
“Ugh, just kill me!” Shaundi groaned upon hearing the pun.
“Y-you won’t get away with this!” the DJ said weakly, after trying and failing to crawl away. “The General is on his way here!”
“Then I guess we’d better leave,” Skunk said, and then calmly put two rounds through the back of Veteran Child’s head.
As the Sons lieutenant thumped lifelessly onto the ground, he looked over at Shaundi. “You alright? Not hurt or anything?”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Please get me down.”
He obliged, walking up to the crucifix and undoing the straps holding her in place. Shaundi dropped down with a groan of relief, massaging her wrists.
“Damn, thanks for the save, man,” she said slowly, before looking at Veteran Child’s body with a conflicted expression. “Ugh, I wanted to be the one who did him in.”
“No lost love for your old boyfriend?” Johnny asked as he walked over, shotgun slung over his shoulders.
“Not a bit,” she replied. “He was rude, crude, and a complete waste of space. Won’t miss him at all.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear that,” Johnny said.
“It’s fine,” Shaundi replied, then sighed. “I’ve got terrible luck with men.”
“That sucks,” Skunk grunted.
“We done here?” Defender asked as he came over, wiping off blood that’d gotten all over his riot shield.
“There’s a ton of dangerous guns and drugs lying around that I don’t want to leave in the Sons’ hands,” Skunk said after looking around. “Grab what’s still usable.”
He then frowned. “Be sure to gather up everyone who got hurt and take them to the hospital. As for the dead…”
Skunk sighed morosely. “Make sure their families are notified. And pass on our condolences and some money.”
“Thankfully, our casualties were rather light,” Defender informed him. “Only two dead and six wounded, who should recover if we get them help ASAP.”
“Two deaths is still too many,” Skunk growled. “Now, move out before the General and any reinforcements show up.”
The Saints who were still on their feet did so, gathering up their downed companions and all the loot they could carry. They called for their cars, who came to pick them up. It was a hard won victory, and Skunk and Shaundi both sank into their seats, exhausted.
“Thank you,” Shaundi whispered one more time as the car they were in drove off.
Skunk just nodded. He didn’t want to lose any more friends.
Yet, he also feared that the Sons of Samedi would retaliate with greater fervor after this.
‘I’ll just have to keep fighting to protect everyone,’ he thought to himself.
111 &&&&& 111
In the distance, a green limousine drove away from the Barrio. Inside, the General was looking at a laptop that, moments before, had been broadcasting what should have been the execution of a Saint. Instead, it had become a humiliating defeat for the Sons of Samedi.
“Well, at least we don’t have to bother with killing the little tone-deaf bastard,” Mr. Sunshine grunted out, breaking the silence.
“That is a small consolation and you know it, friend,” the leader of the Sons huffed in response.
“What do we do about it, then?” the second-in-command inquired.
“We ramp up production,” the General decided after thinking it over. “Consolidate our drug labs, pool what resources we have left. Then, we make a stockpile. The Saints will try and muscle in on our turf, of that I have no doubt. We will outlast them. We may have to bring in product from outside the city to keep up, which will cut into our bottom line for a bit, but it is necessary.”
“Anything else?” Mr. Sunshine asked.
“We will make sure the Saints cannot sell their own drugs in Stilwater,” the General declared. “Give word to our dealers and agents. Any Saint selling drugs is free game. Anything on them can be kept as spoils of war. And any civilian who buys from a Saint is also a target. Make it impossible for the Saints to do anything without loses of some kind.”
“That will bring the heroes down upon us like flies to a carcass,” Mr. Sunshine pointed out.
“Then we kill them, too,” the General said blandly. “They will either learn to leave us alone, or we bribe them to look the other way. As is the way of the city.”
Mr. Sunshine nodded in understanding. It was indeed how things worked in Stilwater. The strong used the weak. It was natural.
The Saints could have their little victory. The Sons of Samedi would bide their time and have their revenge, sooner or later.
