Doing business
Her crocodilian tail swayed behind her, its heavy scales scraping softly against the concrete floor. The air was thick with the stench of decay and waste, but it didn't bother her. She had long since become accustomed to it.
Urban legends about sewer gators circulated in whispers among city dwellers, tales meant to scare children and the gullible. It was almost as if she herself had become a part of that myth—a creature of the underground, lurking beneath the city streets.
The bag she carried on her back was large and heavy. She adjusted the straps, ensuring it remained secure as she navigated the twisting tunnels. Her eyes, sharp and accustomed to the darkness.
As she neared the exit, the distant roar of the sea grew louder, a constant, comforting sound. She could see the faint light filtering through the grate ahead, signaling her way out. Her heart quickened with anticipation.
She reached the grate and peered through the narrow slits. The moonlight glinted off the waves, casting a silver sheen over the water. She took a deep breath, savoring the salty tang of the sea breeze.
With practiced ease, she lifted the grate and slipped through, her lithe form moving effortlessly. The cool night air enveloped her, a stark contrast to the humid sewers. She paused for a moment, allowing herself to relish the feeling of open space.
Hiromi Hitomi, better known as Feral, stood at the edge of the coastline, her tall, athletic frame silhouetted against the night sky. Her dark blue hair, wild and long, whipped around her face as the sea breeze picked up.
The vast ocean lay before her, dark and foreboding, but she felt no fear. Instead, a fierce determination burned in her eyes. Sandatsu Owari, the leader of the Wild Hunt, had given her a mission, and she intended to see it through. He had made it almost too easy, wreaking havoc and toying with the pro heroes, ensuring her smooth exit from the city.
Without hesitation, she stepped into the surf, the cold water lapping at her feet and ankles. As she waded deeper, her body began to change, adapting to the new environment. She felt the changes ripple through her, her skin becoming more streamlined, her muscles more suited for swimming. Her tail elongated and flattened slightly, becoming a powerful rudder to guide her through the water.
With a final glance back at the city, she plunged into the sea, her movements swift and effortless. The water closed over her head, and she began to swim, her adapted body cutting through the waves with ease. She could feel her lungs expanding, drawing in oxygen from the water as gills formed along her neck. Her vision sharpened, allowing her to see clearly even in the murky depths.
The journey through the sea was long, but Feral's adapted body showed no signs of fatigue. She swam with powerful, steady strokes. The moonlight filtered down through the water, casting an eerie glow over the ocean floor. She was heading towards a specific target, a point in the sea that Sandatsu had marked as important.
After what felt like hours, she finally saw it—a shadowy shape looming in the distance. It was a ship, anchored far from the coastline, its lights dimmed to avoid detection.
With a final, deep breath, she climbed aboard, her movements swift and silent. Her eyes scanned the ship's deck, picking out the silhouettes of guards and the soft glow of electronic surveillance equipment. She crouched low, her body pressing against the cold steel of the ship's hull. Her fingers and toes had already adapted, growing sticky pads like those of a gecko, allowing her to climb with silent precision.
The ship was part of Gustave Gavial's operation, a man she knew by reputation as Gnash. He was a crocodilian mutant, much like her in many ways.
The human trafficking operation on this ship was one of many illicit activities that had taken advantage of the chaos Sandatsu Owari had unleashed on the city. With the heroes distracted and spread thin, villains like Gnash had found ample opportunity to further their own agendas.
Reaching the deck, she paused, her eyes narrowing as she took in the layout. Guards patrolled in pairs, their movements lazy and unhurried. They were confident, complacent.
Moving with the shadows, she slipped past the first pair of guards, her enhanced senses picking up the rhythmic thud of their footsteps and the low murmur of their conversation. She listened for a moment, gathering information. They were talking about the cargo—human lives, bound and gagged in the hold below.
She spotted a lone guard near the entrance to the lower decks, his back turned to her. In a swift, fluid motion, she was upon him, her scaled hand clamping over his mouth as her other hand twisted his neck with a sickening crack. She lowered his body gently to the ground, her eyes already scanning for her next target.
Reaching the hold, she found a group of guards standing around, talking and laughing. They were oblivious to the danger that now stalked them. Feral took a deep breath, savoring the moment before the attack. Then she leapt into the fray.
As she moved deeper into the ship, she could hear the muffled cries and whimpers of the captives below.
Feral moved through the cargo hold, her eyes scanning the deplorable conditions. Rows of metal crates lined the walls, each one holding a prisoner—mostly women, pale and malnourished, their eyes hollow from despair. Bags of dog food lay scattered around, a cruel mockery of sustenance.
As she passed one of the crates, a prisoner noticed her, eyes lighting up with a desperate hope.
"Please, help us!" the woman called out, her voice a raw whisper from days of screaming.
Feral ignored her, her gaze fixed ahead. The woman, driven by a surge of desperation, reached through the bars and grabbed onto Feral's tail. The grip was weak, but it was enough to momentarily halt Feral's advance.
"Please," the woman begged, tears streaming down her face.
With a snarl, Feral whipped her tail, slamming it down on the woman's hand. A sickening crunch echoed through the hold as bones shattered. The woman screamed in pain, her body convulsing in agony. Feral swiftly moved, her hand clamping over the woman's mouth to silence her.
"Shut up," Feral hissed, her voice a menacing growl. "Do they keep any records of the prisoners?"
The woman, her eyes wide with fear and pain, pointed weakly towards a binder at the end of the cargo hold area. Feral released her, the woman's body slumping to the ground, clutching her broken hand.
The villain strode to the indicated spot and snatched up the binder. She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the lists and numbers. It was just head counts, devoid of any useful information about the prisoners' quirks. She growled in frustration, tossing the binder aside.
It was then that she caught sight of a corner filled with stacks of documents. These weren't just any documents; they bore the official seals and marks of the Hero Public Safety Commission, the Quirk Registration Service, and the Police Department. Some were real, others cleverly forged, indistinguishable at a glance.
This changed things. Her initial plan had been to slip away quietly should she fail to find anything of use to the boss. She figured quietly looking for potentially useful quirks would've been enough. But finding these files gave her enough reason to decide going loud. That, and she was no Karma, stealth wasn't her thing. She just wanted an excuse to go wild.
She set her large bag down on the floor, the faint sound of metal clinking inside. Unzipping it, she revealed two massive chainsaw weapons, custom-made by Reaper himself. The sight of them sent a thrill through her, their serrated blades glinting menacingly in the dim light of the hold. They were like old friends, these chainsaws, reminiscent of the ones she used to wield.
Feral hefted one in each hand, feeling the familiar weight and balance. The engines roared to life with a deafening scream as she pulled the starter cords, the blades whirring and vibrating with lethal energy. The prisoners cowered further into their crates, eyes wide with terror at the sight and sound of the monstrous weapons.
The noise was tremendous, drawing the attention of more guards who rushed into the hold, weapons drawn.
Feral welcomed the challenge. With a maniacal laugh, she launched herself at them, her chainsaws slicing through flesh and bone with horrifying ease. Blood sprayed across the hold, painting the metal walls.
In the lavish living quarters of the ship, Gustave Gavial, also known as Gnash, lounged comfortably in an oversized leather chair, savoring a glass of fine wine. His quarters were a testament to his refined tastes and wealth, adorned with priceless artwork and antique furnishings. A vintage record player softly played classical music in the background.
He swirled the wine in his glass, inhaling its rich aroma before taking a sip. Business had been good; his operations were thriving under the chaos wrought by Sandatsu Owari's rampages. Human trafficking, forgery, black-market dealings—everything was going smoothly. He leaned back, contemplating his next move, when the faint sound of chainsaws reached his ears. He frowned, straining to hear over the music.
The sound grew louder, more distinct, and suddenly, his communicator crackled to life. "Boss, we're under attack! Someone's tearing through the cargo hold! It's—" The message was cut off by the unmistakable roar of a chainsaw, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.
Gnash's eyes narrowed, fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. He set his wine glass down with deliberate calmness, adjusting his posture. The noise grew nearer, the chainsaws slicing through metal and flesh. He could hear the chaos unfolding, the sounds of his men being slaughtered, the screams of the dying.
Before he could react further, the door to his quarters shuddered violently. The metal groaned and screeched as it was savagely cut from the other side.
With a final, deafening roar, the door was kicked in, flying across the room and crashing into an ornate table, shattering it. Feral stood in the doorway, chainsaws still revving, her wild dark blue hair whipping around her face. Her eyes gleamed with bloodlust, a predatory grin stretching across her face.
Gnash's fury mounted as wine splashed onto his favorite shirt, staining the pristine white fabric with deep red. That was the last straw.
Gnash rose slowly from his chair. "You," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Feral laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Oh, I know exactly what I've done. Beating you into submission. And I’m not done yet."
Gnash's fury was palpable, his crocodilian features twisting in rage. "You’ve made a grave mistake, girl. Do you think you can waltz in here and disrupt my operations without consequences?"
Feral shrugged, lifting one chainsaw to rest on her shoulder. "The boss told me to do things however I see fit. You just happened to be the unlucky bastard that has to deal with me. Now, even if I can do things however I want, I'm still suppossed to be doing business. So it's up to you. We can do this the hard way, or the even harder way."
"You're a fool," Gnash hissed, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You think you can take me down? I’ll tear you apart!"
Feral grinned, her teeth sharp and glistening. "Pleasure doing business with you!"
He lunged forward, his powerful jaws snapping shut around one of Feral's arms. His sharp teeth sank deep into her flesh, eliciting a growl of pain from her. Without a moment's hesitation, Gnash initiated the death roll, spinning with incredible speed and force. The room seemed to blur as he twisted and turned, the sheer power of the maneuver almost ripping Feral's arm from its socket.
Feral's body was flung around like a rag doll, the pain searing through her arm. She tried to counter, swinging her chainsaw with her free hand, but Gnash's roll was too fast, too disorienting. Just as she felt her arm might tear off completely, Gnash released his grip, only to bite down on her torso. His powerful jaws clamped around her midsection, and with a mighty heave, he lifted her off the ground, using his immense neck strength to slam her into the floor.
The impact was thunderous, the floorboards cracking beneath Feral's body. She gasped, the air forced from her lungs, but the fight wasn't over. Gnash let go, and in the split second before Feral could retaliate, he grabbed a wine bottle from the nearby table, shattering it against her face. The glass splintered, some shards cutting into her eyes, momentarily blinding her.
Feral roared in pain, her vision clouded by blood and shards of glass. She swung her chainsaws wildly, her other adaptations kicking in to compensate for her impaired vision. Her heightened sense of smell and hearing guided her movements as she lashed out.
Gnash tried to sidestep her attacks, but Feral was relentless. Despite the pain and the blinding, one swipe managed to catch Gnash across the chest, tearing through scales and drawing a spray of blood. He hissed, retaliating with a powerful swipe of his claws, raking them across Feral's already injured arm.
Feral staggered back, but her bloodlust only grew. The more she fought, the stronger she became, her quirk pushing her body to its limits and beyond. With a guttural growl, she lunged forward, her chainsaws roaring. Gnash met her charge head-on, his jaws snapping and claws slashing.
Their battle was brutal, each trading blows that would have incapacitated a lesser opponent. Feral's chainsaws whirred and bit into flesh, while Gnash's powerful jaws and claws found their mark time and again. The room around them was in shambles, furniture splintered and walls stained with blood.
Feral continued to evolve, her skin hardening to resist Gnash's bites, her muscles bulging with increased strength. She used her tail like a whip, striking out at Gnash's legs and throwing him off balance. He retaliated with another powerful bite, aiming for her neck this time, but Feral twisted just in time, his teeth grazing her shoulder instead.
With a roar, Feral brought both chainsaws down in a savage double strike. Gnash managed to block one with his arm, but the other sliced into his side, eliciting a roar of pain and fury.
Both combatants were bloodied and battered. "You're fucking insane," Gnash admitted, his voice a low growl. "coming into my territory... Starting shit like this..."
Feral grinned, blood staining her sharp teeth. "Let's see whose territory it is when I'm done with you."
With a guttural growl, she spat a stream of venom at Gnash's face. The toxic liquid sizzled as it made contact, and Gnash roared in agony, stumbling back and clawing at his eyes. The venom burned, leaving him almost blind, and the playing field was leveled.
Gnash, blinded but not defeated, lunged forward in a desperate tackle. The two villains crashed through the remains of the living quarters, tearing through walls and smashing furniture, until they burst out onto the deck of the ship. The cool night air hit them, mingling with the scent of blood and sweat.
Feral moved to lift her chainsaw for another strike, but Gnash, driven by sheer desperation, bit down on the weapon. The metal and teeth of the chainsaw bit into his mouth, breaking his teeth and tearing his gums, but his bite was strong enough to cause the chainsaw to sputter and malfunction. Sparks flew as the chainsaw ground to a halt, leaving Gnash with a mouthful of blood and broken teeth.
He spat out shards of metal and bone, his breath ragged. Before he could strike Feral again, his body seized up. The venom had finally kicked in fully, its paralytic effects coursing through his veins. His muscles locked, and he collapsed to the deck, twitching and gasping for breath.
Feral, despite her own injuries, stood over him, her bloodlust far from sated. Her eyes burned with feral intensity as she watched her opponent fall. She could go on fighting; her quirk ensured that her strength and resilience only grew the more she battled.
The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. A couple more groups of armed guards, alerted by the chaos, had arrived on the deck. They aimed their weapons at her, opening fire in a desperate attempt to bring down the S-rank threat.
Bullets whizzed past her, some striking her scales and others embedding in her flesh. Feral roared in pain and fury, her eyes flicking to the guards with murderous intent. Gnash, despite his condition, realized his only chance was to escape. He could use this to buy some time, hoping to weaken her enough to slip away.
Feral's adaptations kicked in once more, her body responding to the threat. Her skin hardened further, deflecting some of the bullets, while her muscles tensed, ready to unleash another brutal assault. She glanced down at Gnash, who seemed barely conscious, his body wracked with pain from the venom.
With a final glance at the downed Gnash, Feral turned her attention to the guards. She moved with lightning speed, her tail whipping out to disarm them, her claws slicing through flesh and bone. The deck became a scene of carnage as she tore through the guards, her chainsaw swinging wildly, albeit less effective without its full power.
Gnash, using what little strength he had left, crawled away from the deck. He knew he couldn't defeat Feral, not in his current state. Hell, not in any straight fight, but he could at least live to fight another day.
Feral, having dispatched the guards, turned back to find Gnash gone. She snarled, her eyes scanning the deck for any sign of him.
Gnash staggered into a secluded section of the cargo hold, his breath labored and his body wracked with pain. His vision was blurred, but he knew where to find her. In the dimly lit corner, a woman sat huddled in a makeshift cell. Unlike the others, her conditions were slightly better, a sign of her importance. Her eyes were glazed over, the effects of the drugs he had administered making her sluggish and unresponsive.
"Come on," Gnash growled, his voice barely more than a whisper as he knelt beside her. "I need you to do your job. Teleport me out of here."
The woman blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused. Gnash shook her roughly, trying to snap her out of the drug-induced haze. Seconds felt like hours as he struggled to get her to react, his desperation growing with each passing moment.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. Gnash looked up to see Feral standing there, drenched in blood.
"Planning to run away and leave your stuff behind?" she taunted.
Gnash grinned, though it was a grim and painful expression. "Why would I leave my things..."
Before Feral could react, Gnash grabbed the woman and tossed her at her. The moment they made contact, Feral felt a disorienting pull. The world around her twisted and warped.
"...When I can just send you away?!"
And then she was falling. She hit the water with a splash, the cold sea enveloping her. She struggled to orient herself, realizing she was now quite a distance away from the ship, which was already starting to move.
Feral's eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. There was no way she could catch up to the ship by swimming. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pill, black with a blue streak running through it. She examined it for any signs of damage, relief flooding her when she saw it was intact. Without hesitation, she swallowed the pill.
As the pill dissolved in her system, Feral felt a familiar sensation, like a connection being established.
"Hey, boss..." she muttered, her voice carried away by the wind.
Gnash slumped into a chair in a makeshift infirmary on the ship, a medic hurriedly tending to his injuries. The venom still coursed through his system, leaving his vision blurry and his muscles weak. The pain was intense, but it only fueled his rage. He clenched his fists, the movement sending jolts of agony through his battered body.
The room was dimly lit, the hum of the ship's engines a constant backdrop. Gnash's mind raced as he planned his next move. His operations had taken a significant hit, his property damaged, his business disrupted. But he wasn't a man to act purely on emotion. Even in his pain and anger, he remained coldly analytical, assessing the situation.
But before they could take any further action, a jagged portal tore open in the air in front of them. Feral emerged from it, landing with a thud.
Gnash stared at her, his eyes narrowing. They either had another teleporter or their boss was more involved in this that he had initially thought. Either way, He had no way to fight back now, with only barely enough ment to keep the ship going.
Feral's lips curled into a smile. "My boss wants to make a deal."
Gnash's eyes flashed with disbelief and anger. "A deal? You think I'd believe anything you say after what you've done?"
Feral shrugged, her casual demeanor only enraging Gnash further. "Believe it or not, that's your choice. But if you don't want to hear him out, we can just kill you and take over your stuff ourselves."
Gnash studied her, his mind working rapidly. He didn't trust her, not for a second. But he knew he was in no position to dismiss her offer outright. He was cornered, and he needed to buy time, to find a way out of this mess.
Hiromi Hitomi trudged through the outskirts of the city, her body aching but already mending thanks to her quirk's slow regeneration. The pain from her wounds was still there, but the bloodlust had decreased, making her adaptations less extreme an leaving her feeling worn, but satisfied.
She approached the new hideout, a large, inconspicuous warehouse on the fringes of the urban sprawl. The building was weathered, blending seamlessly with the surrounding industrial landscape. The exterior gave no hint of the activities inside, just an old, dilapidated structure forgotten by time.
Inside, the warehouse was divided into sections. The largest area remained open, filled with crates, equipment, and various supplies for their operations. In one corner, a section was cordoned off, converted into a living space. The makeshift home was simple but functional: a kitchen area, a communal table, and a few well-worn couches facing a large television. The lighting was dim, the atmosphere utilitarian yet oddly comforting for those who called it home.
Beneath the warehouse, a hidden passage led down into the sewers, connecting their hideout to Drekus's underground domain. It was a perfect setup for quick escapes and secretive comings and goings.
As Feral pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped inside, she called out, "I'm home."
From the couch, Karma looked up. The television flickered with some old action movie, the volume low. "Welcome back!" Karma's voice was warm, genuine affection in her tone.
"Yo, little sis," Feral replied, her own lips curving into a smile despite the fatigue. She dropped her bag on the floor, wincing slightly at the movement. "How's it going?"
Karma shrugged, her chameleon tail flicking lazily. "Same old, same old. Just keeping an eye on things while you were out." She paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "You look like you got into quite a scrap."
Feral nodded, lowering herself carefully onto the couch opposite Karma.
"Big Sis Feral!" Drekus boomed, his voice echoing through the warehouse. He approached with a broad grin, holding a spatula in one hand. "You come just in time. Drekus making tortillas. Tortilla Thursday!"
Feral couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "It's Friday."
Drekus waved off her correction with a dismissive hand. "What matter is attitude. Drekus got enough Thursday attitude to share. You see, tortilla taste better with Thursday spirit." He nodded sagely, as if imparting great wisdom.
As they continued their meal, Karma looked around the hideout with a smile. "You've got yourselves quite the place here."
Feral nodded. "Yeah, it's comfy. We stand out a lot, especially me, so we can't just go anywhere. The boss made sure we had everything we needed here."
Karma leaned back, crossing her legs. "Must be nice having a leader with a bajillion quirks. You guys can get anything you want."
Drekus, still wearing his sunglasses despite the indoor, nighttime setting, chimed in from the kitchen. "Boss good to us. We ask, he get. Anything."
Feral smirked. "It has its perks."
Drekus reappeared, carrying a large plate piled high with steaming tortillas. He placed it on the table with a flourish. "Tortilla Thursday ready! Enjoy, Big Sis Feral and Karma."
While they were eating, curious about the latest news, Feral asked, "So, how did that meeting you organized between the boss and Midas go?"
Karma grinned, remembering the scene. "It went pretty well. Sandatsu brought Midas Majestic's eye and arm. Can't go wrong with a gift like that when it comes to Midas."
Drekus looked impressed. "Big gift. Midas must be happy."
Karma nodded. "Oh, he was. It seems like the Wild Hunt and the Night Parade are on pretty friendly terms now!"
The Wild Hunt had grown in power rapidly, expanding their reach and influence with a ferocity that rivaled any established villain group. Yet, their meteoric rise left them in a precarious position. They had not yet woven themselves into the intricate networks of the criminal underworld nor staked out a well-defined territory. Despite their power, Sandatsu had chosen a different approach, opting to play nice. With the resources at their disposal, it was a feasible strategy.
"You look like you got into quite a scrap." said Karma.
"Ran into some trouble on a ship."
Karma grinned, her playful nature showing. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure."
Feral sighed, recounting the details of her encounter with Gnash and the chaotic battle on the ship. She had gone looking for useful quirks to bring back to the boss, hoping to find them among the human trafficking operation. Instead, she ended up hijacking the entire operation for the Wild Hunt after beating Gnash into submission.
After eating, the atmosphere had shifted to something almost domestic. The warehouse, with its living space sectioned off, felt like a bizarrely cozy home. The harsh concrete walls were softened by the presence of plush couches, a large TV, and game consoles strewn about. The place had all the amenities one could ask for, a testament to the boss's generosity.
Karma had helped patch up Feral, the remnants of their earlier conversation about the Wild Hunt's future now replaced by light-hearted banter. They sat in the living area, a controller in each hand, eyes glued to the TV screen as they played a competitive racing game.
"Come on, Big Sis! Are you really letting Drekus win?" Karma teased, her green hair falling into her face as she leaned forward.
"Ha! Drekus best at this game!" Drekus grunted, his blue-skinned fingers mashing buttons with surprising dexterity for his bulky form.
"I already told you I don't know how to play, I've never touched a video game in my life!" Feral clutched the controller, her brow furrowed in frustration. "Why is my car going backwards?! This game is rigged!"
Karma smirked as she crossed the finish line first. "And remember, losers have to obey the winners!"
Feral didn't have time to retort before Karma claimed victory. "What? Wait, that's not fair!"
Karma leaped to her feet. "Drekus, grab her!"
Feral's eyes widened. "Oh no, not again!"
Despite her protests, Drekus gently but firmly grabbed Feral, his immense strength making it easy despite her struggles. "Drekus got you, Big Sis."
Karma gleefully pulled out more clothes from her bag. "Time for a fashion show!"
Feral tried to wriggle free, but between her injuries and the sheer absurdity of the situation, she was at their mercy. After hanging out with them, there was no way she could feel any bloodlust. "You villains..."
Karma laughed, holding up a particularly frilly dress. "Duh, right back at you."
As they tried various cute outfits on her, Feral felt a mix of mortification and helplessness. "I can't believe you're doing this to me. Once I'm all healed I'm going to kill you..."
Drekus, holding up a mirror, grinned. "Big Sis look pretty."
Karma took a step back to admire their handiwork. "Yeah, fierce and fabulous!"
Karma and Drekus didn’t let up. They brought out outfit after outfit, each one more ridiculous than the last. Karma held up a bright white sundress. "How about this one?"
Feral groaned. "You’re kidding, right?"
Karma’s grin widened. "Nope! Come on, Big Sis, it’ll look great on you."
Drekus nodded enthusiastically.
Feral rolled her eyes but allowed them to slip the sundress over her head. She stood there, feeling utterly ridiculous.
Karma took a step back and snapped a photo with her phone. "This one’s a keeper. Maybe we’ll make it your new profile picture."
Feral glared at her. "You wouldn’t dare."
Karma laughed. "Try me."
As they finally let her off the hook, Feral sank into the couch, dressed in an assortment of mismatched, colorful clothes. She glanced at Karma and Drekus, who were still laughing. Feral’s expression softened as she looked at her found family.
She muttered to herself, almost too quietly to hear, "I really am home."