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Quirky Row Chapter 57: Blood on the Dance Floor
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 16:02:02 +0000 UTCChapter 57: Blood on the Dance Floor
(Friday, April 20th, 2124)
“He’s definitely gonna try and kill you at the party this Sunday,” Johnny said.
“Yeah, no shit,” Playa replied as he looked between two different tuxedos. “Do you think they sell these in purple?”
“Probably, but seriously, buddy, it’s not safe.”
“You wanna come with me, then? Be my wingman slash bodyguard?” Playa offered, looking up at his friend.
“Hell yeah,” Johnny said, cracking his knuckles. “Maya will be there, too. I have some… questions to ask her.”
Playa winced but nodded. “Aight. Don’t be too violent. At least not until the ‘fireworks’ start.”
“I can wait,” Johnny growled, cracking his knuckles again.
“You’re gonna ruin your fingers if you keep doing that,” Playa warned. Johnny just scoffed.
Playa resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend before turning to a nearby clerk. “You have any of these tuxs in purple?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, eyeing Johnny Gat in a way that told Playa the clerk knew exactly who he was. “May I take your measurements?”
Playa nodded and was quickly examined with a tape measure. With his measurements taken down, the clerk brought out a purple suit that would fit him, and Playa flashed a stack of cash.
With the tuxedo bought, they left the store and decided to wander the mall a bit before heading back.
“This place recovered quickly,” I commented. It’d gotten pretty banged up during the elimination of the General, but was completely back to normal. No bullet holes, skid marks, or bloodstains anywhere!
“Is that Ryu?” Playa wondered, spotting a familiar face in the crowd. The Japanese man was staring at a memorabilia store, clearly looking uncertain about what to buy.
“Oh, how could you replace me with another Asian? Or am I not enough for you?” Johnny asked, fake-swooning, and Playa rolled his eyes before walking over.
“Hey, Ryu! Haven’t seen you in a while!” Playa said, calling out to his drinking buddy. The Japanese businessman looked over and nodded at him, but immediately did a doubletake when he spotted Johnny.
“Wait… are you… kuso, you’re Skunk, aren’t you!” Ryu said with a wince.
“Uh, yeah. Did you not know?” Playa asked, blinking in surprise.
“I thought it was just the alcohol and bar lighting making me see things,” he muttered, placing his head in his hands. “Oh, gods, Sakura will never let me hear the end of it!”
Johnny snorted at that, and Playa nodded sympathetically. He too knew what it was like to have coworkers hold stupid and silly stuff over your head for years.
After a moment Ryu sighed before straightening up. He looked around carefully and then turned to the two Saints.
“We need to talk,” Ryu said, and there was a note of worry in his voice.
“Uh-huh…” Playa said slowly. “Why does that sound like you’re breaking up with me?”
“Seriously,” Ryu urged, flashing a business card at the duo. Johnny whistled and Playa sighed when he saw the logo for the Masako PMC on the card.
“Fine, I know a place we can talk without being overheard,” Playa replied, leading them to a corner of the mall’s parking garage.
“There’s no cameras in this stairwell,” Playa explained. “And hardly anybody parks in this section because nobody wants to shop at the Leather Pit. Well, nobody without a very specific set of kinks, that is. Should be safe enough.”
“Good. Nice to meet you properly, Playa. I’m Ryu Midoriya, number cruncher for the Masako PMC. My boss has been wanting to get into contact with you for a while, Playa,” Ryu informed the duo. “He wanted to pass on a message that Dane Vogel is planning something at the party this weekend.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Johnny scoffed.
“He’s going to have us poison the guests of the event and blame it on the Saints,” Ryu stated grimly. “Then, he’ll use that as Casus Belli to attack and root out your gang. He’ll have the whole city on your asses.”
“Damn it,” Playa muttered. “That’s sick, even for Vogel.”
“The Board doesn’t like him. They’re pushing Vogel out of the way, trying to replace his followers with their own, and have already replaced him as head of the Renovation Project with somebody more pliable,” Ryu revealed.
“Shit,” Johnny uttered. “And a man as petty and vindictive as him will tear Ultor down rather than let somebody else have the reins.”
“Precisely,” Ryu said. “Now, listen to me. Boss Masako doesn’t wanna do this. He hates targeting civilian targets, and he knows trying to mess with the Saints will lead to a bloodbath, but the contract supersedes everything. A merc without honor will never be trusted, after all, and he can’t break the contract unless Vogel does so first. So please! Do you have any dirt on that bastard that can help us?”
“What exactly would constitute a breach of contract?” Playa asked.
“I don’t have a copy, but I know that unless Vogel has been doing terrorism or broken the Geneva Convention we won’t be able to do anything,” Ryu said, running a hand through his green-tinted hair.
“Isn’t attacking civilians a huge breach of the Geneva Conventions?” Johnny asked with a frown.
“Nah, the poison won’t be lethal, just enough to give major stomach problems,” Ryu replied. “Though Vogel will be giving a few members of the Board something more serious. But since he’ll be doing that himself, it’s not against the contract.”
“Clever bastard,” Playa huffed. “What else?”
“Well, there is one thing,” Ryu muttered. “But it’s unlikely. After all, it’s not like the All for One clause can be invoked with that old monster dead.”
“Beg pardon?” Johnny asked, leaning in. “All for what, now?”
“Being Japanese, we aren’t exactly fond of the Demon King of the Underworld. Just knowing he comes from our country is a great shame,” Ryu said with a disgusted look. “So, our PMC put in a clause that said if our employer was working with or for All for One, it would be a breach. But All Might killed the ghoul almost five years ago so that clause is only really there anymore so we don’t have to work with any of his old minions.”
Playa and Johnny shared a look with each other before turning back to Ryu.
“Got bad news for ya, buddy,” Playa said. “But All for One is alive.”
Ryu blinked. Then he laughed. When neither of them joined him, he got silent fast.
“No… that’s impossible…” he uttered. “We saw the footage! He didn’t have a head!”
“Yeah, for a guy with so many Quirks, I doubt he didn’t have a regen Quirk,” Johnny commented.
“Do you have proof?” Ryu demanded.
“Some,” Playa nodded. “It’s not much, but we can give you want we have.”
He whipped out his phone and blasted a text to Shaundi, who replied with a winky face and a thumbs up. “The data is on the way. Can’t trust tech so it’ll be all physical. Hope you don’t mind taking a couple of files and folders back to your boss.”
“If it’s true… then you’ve done us a great service,” Ryu said, his expression haunted. “All for One… how could he still be alive?”
A few minutes of awkward silence later, Shaundi drove up in her whip, and tossed a manila envelope out the window as she passed by their hiding spot. She didn’t even slow down and just drove right off.
“Here,” Playa said, handing it over. Ryu opened it and began to leaf through the documents, face growing pale as he did so.
“This is… this is very bad,” he whispered. “I need to pass this on to the boss!”
“Don’t worry about the party,” Playa declared. “Do what you gotta do. We’re gonna spring the trap and take down some corrupt bastards in the process.”
“I wish you luck,” Ryu said, tucking the manila envelope under his arm. “Stay safe, Playa.”
“Sure thing. We’ll go drinking afterwards when this whole mess is done,” Playa replied. Ryu nodded in agreement before walking off to deliver the intel to his superior.
If all went well, then the Masako PMC would not be a problem. But if not…
‘Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to fight people with bigger guns,’ Playa thought to himself with a shake of the head.
“Come on, Johnny, let’s go get some ice cream. I need a treat to cheer me up.”
“I could go for a cone,” he agreed, and the duo walked off to find a place selling frozen fun.
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
(Sunday, April 22nd, 2124)
“I look rather snazzy, don’t you agree?” Playa asked, adjusting his collar in the back of the limo. He was using his reflection in the window as a mirror for last-minute preparation. Not that he needed it. He was a sexy beast in his own not-so-humble opinion.
“You look like the Pimp Master-General of Stilwater,” Johnny joked, and Playa grinned.
“Good, that’s what I was going for,” he replied. The leader of the 3rd Street Saints was wearing a dark purple tuxedo with a bright gold tie. A golden Fleur d’Lys pin representing the gang was attached to his left-hand breast pocket, and there were several gold and silver rings on his hands, some of which hid shrunken technological wonders.
It turned out that Julius had spent his life’s savings buying a few objects from the Artificer. These rings incorporated his shrinking Quirk the Artificer had replicated as well as a micro-portal hidden within a big amethyst that could fit quite a lot of stuff.
They were essentially Rings of Holding, and with a twist of the gemstone, Playa could summon all sorts of miniaturized goodies from inside. Every one of the Third Street Saints’ Inner Circle had been given one, and there were a couple other fancy gizmos and gadgets tucked away inside the jewelry.
These did not erase the sins of the former boss of the Saints, but it did help soothe old grudges. Playa doubted he’d ever forgive him for the coma, but at least in death Julius had redeemed himself.
“Ready for trouble?” he asked, looking over at his best friend as he tried to push aside the memories of his mentor.
“You know it,” Johnny smirked. Johnny had opted for a black tuxedo to wear, but went with a purple tie and shoes. He also had the golden pin and ring, Fleur d’Lys proudly displayed, and he’d swapped out his mirrored shades for ones with purple-tinted lenses.
He looked like a crime boss far better than Playa did, but as always, that was the point. Playa was the supervillain, and even when out of costume he had to play the part. Johnny was the muscle, the right-hand that struck whenever and wherever Playa desired.
The two of them decided to relax for a bit as they drove to the hotel where the big Ultor shareholder conference was being held. Playa took a chance to run his hand over the purple leather interior of the Hounfour he and his companion were being driven around in.
The Hounfour used to belong to the General, but had gotten some upgrades following its previous owner’s demise. A new paintjob was obvious, the green replaced with purple, and its wheels had been tricked out with gold rims.
The glass and body of the car was still bullet and blast resistant, but it had gotten a few extras, like special polarizing films on the windows that would prevent flashbangs or bright lights from blinding anyone and memory-steel alloy that would partially repair the vehicle if damaged.
Add in a couple of discreet modifications to the engine for extra speed and some smoke machines to spread smokescreens around, and the armored limo – affectionately renamed to the Saints-mobile by Mink and Shaundi – was a beast of the streets that was almost on par with a military vehicle.
“There it is,” Johnny said, sitting up as their destination came into view. Located within the heart of Saint’s Row, Supremacy Hotel (not to be confused with Supremacy Condos) loomed on the horizon, a behemoth of glass, metal, and cement. It was one of the many skyscrapers Ultor had slapped down in the city, and without a doubt was the best of them.
Over a thousand rooms of the highest quality with the finest services available, ranging from heated pools, king-sized beds, to 5-star continental breakfasts and meeting rooms lined in velvet… yeah, it had it all.
“Can’t believe they built over my apartment and replaced it with that gaudy thing,” Playa muttered, looking up at the place with an annoying expression.
“Hey, at least I got your stuff out before they bulldozed it,” Johnny commented. Playa just nodded.
“True, thanks for that,” the leader of the Saints replied. “Now, let’s look sharp. It’s time to dazzle some rich idiots.”
“We’re here, boss,” Mink, the chauffer for the night, said aloud as she pulled up front of the Ultor-run hotel.
The door to the armored limo automatically opened, allowing Johnny to leave first, acting like a bodyguard as he scanned the surroundings for enemies. After he gave the all-clear, Playa exited, smirking at the looks he received.
A lot of phones and cameras were out to get pics and footage of the event for the media, but as soon as they noticed he was here, all attention shifted his way, the thought ‘What are the Third Street Saints doing here?’ passing through the minds of every single person.
Without hesitation Playa strode forward, giving knowing nods at the heroes who were out of uniform as he walked up to the door guards.
“Invitation?” one of the muscular men requested, his voice doing a decent job at not wavering as he looked at the most powerful crime lord in the city.
“Here ya go,” Playa said, passing over the card he’d received in the mail a few days ago. Surprised, the guard scanned it, and blinked in disbelief when the scanner beeped and flashed a green light.
“I-it’s real,” he stammered out, before standing aside. “Uh, my apologies, sir. Come on in.”
“Thank you,” I replied, giving him a nod as Johnny and I strode inside past the metal detectors. They didn’t go off, but we still got patted down by some more nervous looking guards who were extremely surprised when they didn’t find a single gun, knife, or brass knuckle on either man’s person.
With that minor annoyance handled, the duo entered the hotel and made their way to the conference room. Ultor had rented out the entire building for the evening, including the place where the investor’s meeting would be held. There were a lot of people in fancy clothes wandering around eating food in the reception hall next to it, and a lot of waiters serving alcohol.
Naturally, Playa and Johnny’s arrival caused a stir amongst the rich and snobbish. Fear was a dominant emotion, but anger wasn’t far behind.
“You!” a late-middle-aged woman in a red dress snarled and she stomped over to them. “You have a lot of nerve being here!”
“Who’s this bitch?” Playa asked Johnny, pretending like he didn’t already know.
“Something-something Shawn. Mother of the dumb slut who hung out with Maero,” Johnny said, playing along.
“Ah, Jessica’s mother, then,” Playa said slowly, glancing towards a man who was making his way hurried towards the confrontation. “And that goose-steeping goon must be her husband, and Jessica’s dad.”
“You-!” she started, but was cut off when her husband clamped a hand on her shoulder.
“What are a pair of criminals doing here?” Mr. Shawn demanded as he finally got to her side.
“I’m a shareholder. This is a shareholder’s meeting,” Playa replied breezily.
“You? A penniless pauper? How can a common criminal even manage to understand the stock market?”
“I bought some stock before Ultor made it big. Coma kinda made it hard to cash in on it until now, though,” Playa replied, using the excuse Dane Vogel had come up with to explain why Playa now owned one percent of the company.
The receipts for the sale had even been backdated, so unless somebody dug really, really deep, they’d never know the truth.
“I can’t believe they let a man like you come here!” Mrs. Shawn scowled.
“And I can’t believe they let a couple of Nazis like you two in here,” Playa drawled. “But here you are.”
“You killed my daughter!” Mrs. Shawn shrieked. Whispers filled the area as people gossiped about the juicy drama.
“And I’d do it again,” Playa retorted coldly, shutting her – and everyone nearby – up. “Scum who do things like what the Brotherhood did do not deserve to live. Same with the Sons of Samedi and the Ronin. So you – and everyone who ever supported those gangs – had better watch your backs. Because someday? You’ll all pay.”
Mrs. Shawn trembled in rage and fear and her husband was no better, but Playa didn’t care about a pair of monsters who’d helped their spoiled brat murder and sell women. They were evil, and Playa knew quite a few people here today were just as guilty.
For now, though, they weren’t the target. So they got to live a little bit longer.
Playa and Johnny weren’t approached again after that, although a few of the heroes had formed a protective detail around them. Ostensibly to keep an eye on the pair of Saints, but in truth it was to keep idiots like the Shawns from getting too close and angering the gangsters.
Didn’t stop Johnny from glaring at anybody who was gossiping too loudly and making disparaging comments.
Thankfully, the event was soon to start, and everyone made their way into the conference room where a bunch of tables had been set up in front of a stage.
Dane Vogel and a bunch of executives were sitting on the stage which had a long table and a podium on it, and the former was standing while waiting for the stockholders and investors to find their spots at the tables.
However, one person was missing from the executive table: Eric Gryphon, the head of Research and Development, and if the annoyed expression on Vogel’s face was any clue, this had not been planned.
‘Did he catch wind of the plan? Or was he so caught up in work he lost track of time?’ Playa wondered as he searched for his seat.
Name cards had been set up to show where the different guests were supposed to go, but somebody clearly hadn’t known what they were doing as Playa and Johnny were put at a five-person table with the Shawns and Maya Brown, aka Silver Swan.
Before the awkwardness and tension could rise, Vogel stood up and went to the podium, tapping the microphone as a video screen flickered to life behind him.
“Thank you, one and all, for attending this year’s Ultor stockholder’s gathering. I see a lot of new faces and plenty of old ones, but regardless of when you joined the Ultor family, on behalf of the company… well done on making the right choice,” Vogel said, beginning the meeting.
“Ninety years ago, Ultor’s founder, Richard Philips, had an idea. A dream!” Dane Vogel began as a photograph of a middle-aged man appeared on the screen. “It was a simple but worthy one: make clothes for people with unusual body shapes. Quirks were still new, and the world still reeling from the latest step in evolution humanity had been hit with. This of course included people with Heteromorphic Quirks. Imagine how hard it was all those years ago when there were no jeans with holes for tails, shirts that could accommodate wings, or socks for digitigrade feet!”
Vogel waved a hand. “Richard Philips faced many difficulties, but with grit, gumption, and plenty of zeal he began selling customized clothing to the people of Stilwater out of his garage. Over time his business grew as more and more people were born with Quirks that necessitated specialty clothing. Then, seventy-four years ago, the economic crash of the 2050’s hit, leaving plenty of room for Ultor – then Philips Quality Clothes – to grow!”
The Ultor executive smiled as polite applause filled the air. “Yes, it was an opportunity the aging businessman made good use of, turning his independent business into the multi-million-dollar corporation it became known as. But that wasn’t all! Five years ago, Stilwater was struck with an opportunity, and Ultor’s executives took it, following in Richard Philips’ entrepreneurial footsteps! In just a few years Ultor has grown into an international corporation dealing in everything under the sun! It isn’t just clothing, but technology, pharmaceuticals, and, of course, real estate!”
The big screen which had been showing clips from the past changed, showing images of Shivington.
“Shivington. A blight on our fair city’s good name,” Vogel said, smiling his fake smile as plenty of people murmured agreements with him. “Fear not dear investors, as just like Ultor turned Saint’s Row into a shining beacon of society, so too do we intend to give the same makeover to the other less fortunate districts, starting to Shivington.”
He then stepped aside. “Please give a round of applause for the man who will be in charge of Project Haven… the great-grandson of Richard Philips himself, Kyle Ultor!”
Louder applause rang out as a man around Playa and Vogel’s age stepped up to the podium, smiling and waving at the shareholders and media presence.
“I don’t like him,” Johnny immediately declared, and Playa nodded.
Kyle Ultor had a smarmy look to him, and was without a doubt a nepo-baby with his slicked back blue and gold-streaked hair and expensive black suit.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud and honored to be here today, and will do my best to live up to the board’s expectations of me…”
He went into a long-winded speech about how amazing he was and how well he’d be able to accomplish his plans, all while servers carrying trays of alcohol wandered around the reception hall, passing out crystal flute glasses filled with expensive wine.
Once everyone had a glass, Kyle grabbed one for himself and raised it with a smirk. “And with that, let us toast to our future success! Cheers!”
He then proved he was also probably an alcoholic alongside a narcissist by drinking the contents of the glass in a single gulp. True, there wasn’t all that much wine to begin with, but fancy stuff was meant to be savored. Everyone knew that.
‘Even I know that, and I’m as far from fancy as you can get,’ Playa mused. He didn’t drink from his own glass, though. Neither did Johnny. Both of them knew what was about to happen, anyways.
It started a minute after Kyle had drained his glass. He coughed. Then choked. A moment later he collapsed, bloody foam on his lips. The board members leapt to their feet only to crash back down a moment later as seizures struck them.
Screams rang out, and soon people were staggering around as they also began to experience similar symptoms, though they were a bit weakener than what had hit Kyle. Dane Vogel was one of them, writhing on the ground, but there was no fear in his eyes, merely a cold, calculating gleam that shone through the pain.
Why? Because Dane Vogel had settled on using a fast-acting poison to eliminate Kyle and the Ultor Board of Executives, but since Kyle had consumed his dose of poison so quickly it was hitting him sooner than the rest of the party.
Everyone else had been fed a weaker toxin. Dane wanted the people who’d tried to oust him from the corporation dead, but not everyone else, who were investors and customers.
An assassination attempt would lower profits and stock prices, but Dane would be alive and in a position to reap all the benefits, eventually bouncing back after usurping control of the whole company. It was why he’d drank some poisoned wine as well: to throw off suspicions.
‘And it would have worked if we hadn’t known about it beforehand. Thank God the Masako spilled the beans about Vogel’s plan,’ Playa thought to himself as he dropped his tainted wine to the floor, the sound of glass shattering becoming lost in the hubbub.
Johnny threw his glass, beaning a screaming man in the face. “Let’s get this party started!” he shouted gleefully.
And then the Saints burst in, guns blazing. Followed immediately by the Masako. To everyone it may have seemed like the Saints were attacking and the Masako were protecting them, but it was all a coordinated game of make-believe. The Saints and Masako were using dud rounds and tranqs while doing their best to miss and not actually hit anyone. Nobody save the people involved knew it was all a sham. Not even Vogel.
‘Vogel wants to blame the Saints for murdering the Board? Then we’ll fucking own it,’ Playa thought to himself as he summoned his gun to his hands. The Quirk-enhanced weapon appeared in a flash and he turned towards Mrs. Shawn, shooting her in the chest before she could react.
“Oh, no, she got killed in the cross-fire,” Playa drawled unconvincingly before shooting the racist bitch in the head for good measure. Always double-tap!
‘Plus, this way nobody can get their hands on her brain to make a superpowered clone-soldier version,’ he thought to himself, reminded of how Nomu-Lin had been created.
He then glanced over at Johnny who was busy breaking the neck of her husband. “Finished?”
“Yeah,” Johnny Gat replied as he dropped the now dead man with contacts in the Thule Society to the floor. Playa also shot him in the head. Again, just to be safe.
“Who else on our list is still alive?” Playa wondered as he looked around at the unfolding chaos within the hall.
“Dane, obviously,” Johnny replied. “He’s being evacuated by the Masako, though.”
“Hmm. I see,” Playa hummed. The Masako still had to play their role for now, but it wouldn’t be longer before the trap would close around Vogel.
“YOU!”
“Ah, there’s another person on the list,” Johnny chuckled darkly, turning to the other person at the table.
Maya had rushed off to try and confront the Saints and stop the violence using her Quirk, but she’d stopped when she’d heard the gunshot. Now she was glaring at Playa and Johnny, who were returning the look.
“What have you done?” she demanded.
“Shut it,” Johnny spat, and Maya recoiled, taken aback by the pure vitriol in his voice.
“Johnny… I won’t be able to protect you,” she said, trying a different tactic, her own voice suffused with calming notes thanks to her Quirk.
“Like you weren’t able to protect Aisha?” Johnny shot back, and she frowned.
“That was a tragedy, Johnny, but you’ve already taken your revenge…”
“Why was your personal number in Jyunichi’s phone?” Johnny demanded, and she paused, starting to realize what was going on.
“Every hero has contacts amongst the criminal elements. That’s just common sense,” Silver Swan tried to argue, but Johnny shook his head.
“Why did you do it, Maya? Why did you reveal our location to the Ronin?” he asked.
“We know all about your other activities as well, Maya,” Playa spoke up, causing her to turn to him. “Silencing Ultor whistleblowers… killing people who stumbled across information they shouldn’t… covering up dirty deeds committed by the city and other heroes… you’ve dirtied your hands quite a bit. Honestly, the list of crimes is higher than Monorail’s, and you’ve been a hero for less time than he’d ever been.”
“Aisha just wanted to live in peace and quiet. That’s why I helped her fake her death and get a house nobody would ever think to look for her at,” Johnny said. “The only person we trusted with this knowledge before Playa came back was you, Maya. So how did Jyunichi know where she was living? Or that I was living with her?”
“You delusional. Mad with grief!” Maya shouted.
“You’re damn right I’m mad! I loved her! And it was your actions that got Aisha killed! And I have the strangest feeling that was the whole point,” Johnny snarled.
Maya clenched her hands into fists. “Fine!” she hissed. “You’re right! I didn’t care about what would happen when I told Jyunichi about your love nest hidey hole! Collateral damage was just fine with me!”
“Why?” This time, Johnny’s voice was filled with pain from this betrayal, and it took all of Playa’s power not to point the gun at her head and pull the trigger.
“Because that Quirkless nobody dared to be better than me!” Maya snarled. “Nothing I did was ever good enough, but Aisha was perfect and could do no wrong! Even when I became a hero they never gave a damn! My parents, my teachers, my friends… I was always second fiddle despite being better! I had a Quirk! I had a damn future! All she had was a nice voice and a better ass!”
She cackled madly, as years of repressed emotions came pouring out. “That was why I went to the Vice Kings and came up with a little scheme! I would pretend to be kidnapped, and they would use this as leverage over Aisha! She’d be trapped under their thumb forever!”
“So you’re the reason Aisha was trapped in a predatory contract with the Vice Kings?” Playa asked in disgust.
“Yes! And you ruined everything!” Maya snarled. “You blew up the studio, faked her death, and destroyed her contract!”
“That’s just sad and pathetic,” Johnny sighed. “You let your jealousy blind you and orchestrated your own sister’s death… what a piece of shit you are, Silver Swan.”
“So what?” the heroine scoffed. “I’m the Number 1 heroine of Stilwater. Nobody will ever know the truth. Not after I take you two down. How sad it is that you both resisted arrest, and I had to use lethal force.”
“You think anybody will believe that?” Playa asked, and Maya just rolled her eyes.
“The mouth-breathing knuckle draggers of the city will believe whatever I want them to believe. I’m Silver Swan!”
“Hm. So you are. A real shame about that, too. Still, it’s good to know what you really think of them. Anyways… did you get all of that?” Playa asked, glancing at Johnny, who tapped the side of his sunglasses.
“Sure did,” he replied with a cruel grin. “Livestreamed the whole thing.”
The Number 1 heroine of Stilwater frowned, confused, before her eyes widened as she realized there was a tiny camera and microphone built into Johnny’s shades.
“No…” Maya uttered in horror.
“Alongside uploading the proof we found of all the evil shit you’ve done over the last five years, we made sure the whole world would know what was happening tonight,” Playa declared. “Everyone knows the truth now, Maya. Your hero career is over. Give up.”
“No… NO!” she screamed, and the room filled with an all-consuming rage that drove everyone into a mad frenzy. Saints attacked Saints, Masako turned their weapons onto each other, and the investors madly attacked anything that moved.
“Ah, shit,” Playa grunted as he struggled to control his anger. Swan Song was a powerful Quirk, and it was only the knowledge such a mental attack was coming that kept him safe.
Even so, it pressed against his thoughts and filled his mind with unrelenting anger and the desire to lash out at everyone and everything.
‘Break a chair over the back of Johnny’s head!’ the intrusive thoughts demanded. ‘Knock those dumb glasses of his face! Why does he even wear them inside?!’
Playa shook his head. While his sub-conscious raised some good points about wearing sunglasses indoors, it was a bad idea to listen and he forced it down with some effort.
Johnny, however, didn’t seem to be suffering at all. If anything, the fact he was just standing there, his arms folded over his chest with a placid expression on his face, was quite terrifying, and Maya stepped back nervously at the lack of reaction.
“Why… why aren’t you going berserk?!” she hissed, fear coloring her words. “You’re just as Quirkless as Aisha, how are you able to resist my Swan Song?!”
“It’s simple, really. I was already blindingly furious with you. Your Quirk just pushed me over the edge and around the bend. I’ve come full circle, Maya. I’ve hit Anger Nirvana, so to speak,” Johnny replied, his voice eerily calm. He then raised his hand a sword materialized in front of him, grabbing it.
The sword was a katana, and not just any katana, but the very same one used by Jyunichi to decapitate his wife. It had been retrieved from the burning wreck of the restaurant that had become the Ronin lieutenant’s grave, somehow still in one piece.
And then, several million dollars later to repair and upgrade it with Quirks courtesy of the Artificer, it was impossibly sharp and capable of teleporting into Johnny’s hands with but a thought, just like Playa’s own Peacemaker.
With measured steps Johnny approached the trembling heroine and swung at her neck, aiming to decapitate her in an instant.
Silver Swan was powerful and had earned her rank, however. Even without her support gear she was a fighter, leaping aside with instincts honed through five years of living in the most dangerous city in the United States.
“You dodged,” Johnny said, voice still uncomfortably calm and bland.
“Bastard! You were trying to kill me just now!” Maya shouted.
“Of course I did. Your actions ended up getting Aisha’s head removed. It’s only fair you join her in the underworld the same way,” Johnny replied in a monotone.
Without waiting another moment, Johnny shot forward, sword whistling as it carved through the air. Maya dodged every strike, but it was a close thing. The only reason she hadn’t been killed yet was due to Johnny’s lack of familiarity with sword fighting. But if there was one thing he was good at, it was killing, and the Saint was rapidly improving with each failed attempt to kill her.
“You! You! Stop this!” Maya screamed as she frantically dodged. “I am Silver Swan! I am a hero! I’M BETTER THAN YOU!”
“No. You’re just a petulant brat who can’t stand not being the center of attention,” Johnny replied archly. Maya snarled and grabbed things off of tables to throw at him as she retreated, but the insanely sharp sword cut through them all without issue.
“If anger won’t work, then let’s try something else!” Maya sneered, and suddenly the white-hot rage clouding Playa’s mind was replaced by hope-crushing sorrow.
Unfortunately for Maya, the fact was that this misery could not measure up to the pain Playa had felt when losing Lin, and was able to throw it off easier compared to the anger she’d started the fight with.
The same could be said for Johnny losing Aisha. While the Saints, Masako, and investors collapsed to the ground like puppets with cut strings, unable to stand under the barrage of sorrow assailing them, Johnny did not miss a step and he continued to advance.
“Impossible!” Maya screamed.
“Anger… sorrow… these are nothing compared to the pain I’ve already felt,” Johnny said, his tone chastising.
“STOP!” she howled fearfully, and blasted the room with waves of mind-numbing terror next.
Again, Playa and Johnny shook them off, having stared death in the eye numerous times already. This paltry fear was not enough to make them cower.
Peace and tranquility was the next emotional manipulation Maya attempted, but that was no good, either. Johnny’s desire for vengeance was too powerful to be stopped. The only way he could rest and find peace was through Maya’s death.
In the end, Maya wasn’t wearing armor, but a silk dress and high heels. She wasn’t able to get in close to brawl or wrestle the blade out of Johnny’s hands, and her Quirk was not a combat focused one. With her Quirk to manipulate emotions unable to upset Johnny’s rhythm, she was utterly helpless.
She dodged twice more, but the third attempt failed as Johnny had baited her, feinting left when he was really going right. Maya’s eyes widened in horror as the blade screamed through the air, and her vision flipped several times as her head went flying.
The emotions she’d been broadcasting throughout the room ended, but everyone simply lay there, unable to move. Only Playa and Johnny remained standing after having their emotions shaken so badly.
“Damn good thing we made sure not to bring live ammo,” Playa muttered as he looked over the crumpled heaps of gangsters, mercenaries, and civilians. Despite that precaution, there were a lot of injuries from the berserker fury Maya had forced everyone into earlier.
He whipped out a phone and quickly texted the other Saints on standby to get medics on the scene.
“Vogel escaped,” Johnny declared as he walked around the room, occasionally stopping to check on some of the people littering the floor. And, every so often, he hacked off a head belonging to those who’d been put onto the Saints’ kill list.
Murderers, rapists, thieves, liars and other monsters who’d used their wealth to defile Stilwater and its citizens died by his blade. Not everyone on the kill list was here, but a good three-fourths were.
“Yeah. Some of the Masako got him out before Maya started attacking with her Quirk,” Playa commented. “We better ditch this place before the heroes show up.”
“Time to make sure Vogel pays,” Johnny said as he finished up, and Playa nodded.
The two then hurried out, running back to the limo even as sirens blared through the crisp night air.
“Where to, boss?” Mink asked as she started the engine.
“The Philips building,” Playa replied as he began to put his villain costume on. “It’s time to finish this.”
One way or another, everything would end tonight.
