Arc 3 - Chapter 6: So I Dub Thee...

‘That idiot…’

Stan and his group defended themselves from a group of agents, who wielded metal batons.

The freckled elf barely avoided their attacks, as their swings scraped the tips of his ears. Bulging his biceps, and especially his triceps, he sparred with agents who cultivated strength. Seeing that he was on equal strength with some of them, Stan had a special gadget on his left…

A black spray can, with the logo having a black and white—skull and bones.

‘He has to hone Luke’s gadgets with ease.’

Jumping back, he slid against the marble with steaming soles. And having the can at an angle, he pushed down his finger, and unleashed a mouthful of whatever substance that sprayed out.

Catching the muscular agent off guard, he was already lunging at him.

“What—”

Swinging his metal baton down, everything that he saw turned black. Too lost in the lost, he…

He yelled.

“AAAH!!”

Blinded by ice, it froze and bit into his pupils and irises. Permanently blinding the poor agent, the only thing that the agent was relying on was hearing. But how can he hear when he screamed without care?

With a simple blow, Stan pushed down his baton onto the back of his head.

As the agent plopped down, hard, he felt a gasp of air brush from his nose. Taking a step back, it looked like the hardest agent was down, leaving Stan to turn to see…

The rest of his friends, who clumped themselves together.

‘Can’t even aim the freaking cans right!’

Grinding his teeth back and forth, he pushed his feet to work, and ran towards the rest of his friends. Making his way toward Fred, he used the can spray like mosquito repellent. Looking like he didn’t want to injure the agents greatly, Fred had his palm grip the metal firmly.

All the while a couple of agents leaped back, as the air in front of them froze.

“You and your damn spray cans!”

“And it ain’t just that damn silver-haired freak! Those two degenerates have them as well!”

Gary and Diego couldn’t use their weapons, as pulling them out would result in their infinite demise. Knowing that they needed to be precise, they were going against top notch agents. Creating a small barrier of air ice, the two men knew that it was a matter of time … before those cans ran out.

“We have to push them back now!”

“Does it look like I already know that?! The only person who’s doing well is Stan!”

Fred took out a small fry agent, all with just the swing of his yo-yo. Pulling back his little toy, he grouped up with Gary and Diego, including Stan. The four of them all bundled like sardines.

Having no other choice, Fred felt his eyes quiver, before he thrust his right hand into his pocket.

“Get away!”

Being the second tallest in the group, his hand showcased a glass ball glimmering in sunlight. His yell all commanding, it pushed many of the agents to take a step back, and strain their boots against the marble floor.

Fred felt his hands shake the longer he held the ball, as by just putting pressure on it scared him. Having so much power at his fingertips, he cultivated an immense amount of sweat.

“Back away or else!”

And inside that glass ball, was a yellowish cloud of gas.

Their eyes peeled at the abhorrent chemicals, Fred had Stan and the others walking backward. Using Luke’s creation as their scapegoat, they all kept their eyes peeled at the numerous agents. Who all waited with lunging stances.

“Ah ah ah! Stay right there!”

Fred pointed at a random agent, who tried to bluff him to throw the glass ball. Having his arm already arched back, every muscle within his feet bulged the longer he tread. Even when they were making progress, Fred didn't lower his arm.

But then one of their bluffs turned true. From the right corner of his eye, Fred reacted with his arm.

Throwing the glass ball at the agent, he was a meter or two away from tackling Fred. Stopping him in his tracks, the gas didn’t stop there. Expanding and spreading outward, it grew to a radius of ten meters, leaving the agents no choice but to jump back.

“Shit! Fred!”

Being a meter away from Fred, he yanked Fred, while the gas hovered around his body. Barely feeling the effects, Fred instantly got assaulted by chemicals, as his eyes stung like a crimson inferno.

Having no momentum to run, Stan pulled him onto his back, as the three of them bolted through the front gate. Seeing that Benn and Jack laid on the floor, Luna was nowhere to be seen.

Which meant she went back inside.

“Shit we made it…”

David, who kept his eyes on Judge Golden, had his hands stuffed in his pockets. Keeping them there, he had with him many pieces of metal cuddling his fingers. But they were small, much smaller than any rifle bullet.

Tapping his foot, David had his head hunched forward, with his breath all too impatient.

“Going to make your first move?”

“Are you?”

“I know you could dodge my attacks. Hell. You could take us all down if you wanted to.”

“To enjoy a fight, one must not feast in gluttony. You told me that long ago, right?”

Golden took note of the gas covering the front wall, leaving him to take a step forward.

Bringing out his right hand, he had his knuckles low to his side. Aiming where his forehead was, it sparkled under the rays, along with his bald head. Not a single agent taking a defensive stance, it was like the winner was already decided.

But David still went full throttle.

‘Hope he kept those words true.’

With just his thumb, he flicked away a single piece of lead. Having the same power as a high-velocity BB gun, it somewhat boomed, but not in the loudness of a barrel.

Without shaking the stone walls—

—It pierced the ceiling.—

“Huh?”

—And he looked up at his own result.—

He had no recollection of shooting the ceiling, nor having his head arched in any direction. Lowering his eyes, he then pushed them onto Golden, who yawned with little care in the world.

Feeling his face grow pale, David glanced at Hope, who was in front of him rather than in back of him. Somewhat furrowed by the sudden arrangement, she blinked four times before settling her eyes on David.

“We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Immediately taking note of his warning, Hope followed David toward the front gate. With the gas still lingering, David continued his run until Hope tugged his wrist.

“B-But what about Luke?”

“He should be dealing with—”

Turning his eyes toward another battle, it was preferred that it was off screen. Not because it was important, but because it was an embarrassment for …

David stood frozen, while Hope held her breath.

‘How in the…’

“Luke!”

He laid on the ground, as his legs and arms sprawled with no twitching nerves.

Having a boot pressed on his back, his throat convulsed in blood, and gulped whatever liquid that marinated his vocals. Breathing through wheezes, he slightly glanced up at Hope’s yell.

“Leave him alone!”

Her eyes sharpened, as he saw the agent toy with him like a slave. Pulling out her pistol, she aimed the barrel steady.

And in response, every agent around Briggs took out their pistols. Having their barrels doubled down, the only thing that stopped was the raising of Briggs' hand. Signaling them to hold their fire, he had his darkened eyes stationed on her.

“Out of all the men in the world, and you pick this piece of shit? Do you know the crimes he committed?”

“Get off him, now.”

Briggs glanced down at Luke, and noticed his wheezes worsening by the second. Analyzing how his body was molded since birth, he tallied his light brown hair, his side bang, his build … it all matched.

Which pushed his boot even further into his back.

“Gah!”

Water rolled from the corners of his eyes, as his knife-like boot only crackled his already battered back. As Briggs continued to torment him, he settled his no-colored irises onto hers.

“You can’t save anyone, not even him.”

She pulled the trigger.

As if he had known where she would shoot, he moved his head to the right. Barely grazing his left ear, he continued to sulk his hands in his pockets, leaving Hope to shrivel like a prune.

“And your ability to shoot proves it.”

He saw a blur of black.

Raising his hands out of his pockets, he used his arms to enact like shields. Taking in a random punch, all of its strength was absorbed into his bones, leaving him to slide back several feet. The gust of wind blowing away his fedora, his tuxedo wrinkled from the blow of—

“Get off of him!”

Clouded with rage, Luna crouched down as she pressured the floor beneath her. Soaring an ultimatum of strength within her calves, the marble itself cracked, with bits of it littering against her boots.

And thrusting herself forward, she had her right arm pulled back. His body still recovering from the single punch, he shook his head once to clear away any disorientation.

‘She’s strong…’

Being in the biggest game of cat and mouse, he moved like a feather in a wind storm. Avoiding her fists, some of them barely grazed the skin of his tuxedo. But even so, Briggs knew that she was indulged in anger.

Seeing her fighting style, seeing the way she honed her knuckles, it was all without technique. Like a barbarian trying to slam their anger on something, Luna honed him down like a mole. And for just a fraction of a second, she thrusted yet another punch … but with an open window.

‘But she’s too damn angry.’

A simple crack cradled her ears.

Hearing it ricochet her soul, and even her heart, she arched her head all the way up. Seeing the ceiling in front of her, her vision then blurred in a state of abysmal insanity. Not knowing what was happening, it was like she ate through her feet, or smelled through her ears.

As the sudden burst of air pushed her to fly.

‘H-Huh…’

She landed a meter away from the gas cloud of mustard. Without rolling into it, blood splattered onto the floor.

Both Hope and David saw Brigg’s stunt, as the agent lowered his foot to the ground. Returning his eyes onto the two of them, he noticed that one man stared at him with darkened eyes.

“She’s a sinner, same as him. I value both women and men as equals in strength. Why judge me when—”

Briggs jumped back.

Narrowly avoiding a single blow, the force of it forced open the vacuum of air. Rumbling everything, from the floor to even the walls, it was like he awakened the building to life.

Leaving Briggs to immediately pale his face in sweat.

‘Got to tread carefully.’

David zipped through the air again, this time appearing in back of him.

Barely able to avoid his punches, every set of hardened knuckles was a means to dodge. Every attack feeling like a blur, Briggs knew that a single punch would knock him out. Despite Briggs being weaker than the cowboy, at least he could keep up with him. But barely.

Meanwhile, Hope pushed her pistol into her hip, and began her sprint toward Luke. Tapping her boots against the floor, every step she drew pushed her eyes to quake. Once she reached him, she knelt down, and immediately cusped his armpits with her hands.

And began dragging him toward the front gate.

‘I’ll get you out … but please keep breathing…’

Closing her eyes, she felt every bicep within her arms strain with soreness. For every second that passed, it was like her calves and thighs were forged in fire. But even when her strength was dim, she continued to drag him with all her strength.

Until she stopped in her tracks.

“Huh…”

As soon as David threw another punch, it was blocked.

Grabbing a hold of his hand, the fingers of the said person didn’t quiver or shake. Ceasing away the frustration he honed, it was all swept into his heart, as he took in the man in front of him.

A man who wore red cardinal robes.

“Always having a little frustration in ya, huh?”

Briggs took a step back, as he composed his breathing. Knowing that Golden had himself dealing with David, the agent looked toward the front gate, and saw …

He quickly took out his revolver, and began his walk toward the two.

Glancing behind, David knew that he couldn’t pull his own hand back. Having it stuck in between Golden’s fingers, not a single muscle twitched in his arms or legs.

“And for some reason, you always seem to struggle with it. Even during the skirmishes, you had that little heart pumping out hatred for the simplest of things. Especially towards our enemies. Like you always say…”

Having the grip of his revolver within his palm, the noise he emitted from his shoes wreaked with nothingness. No decibel, no ounce of sound, nothing whistled against Hope’s ears.

Cradling Luke with her arms, she had her body near Luna. Barely able to see, she saw Briggs slowly extend the barrel at Luke.

“‘For every beast-human killed, there is one less mouth to feed.’ That’s a pretty popular motto don’t you think? Ever wondered which group took those words to heart?”

—“People grow Golden.”—

Silence fell for everyone.

Another voice joining the mix, it was soft, charismatic, a tone that made Golden freeze.

Turning their heads toward the center of the room, stood a man wearing an oversized hoodie. Having baggy sweatpants, with hands in his pockets, his aura alone pushed Golden, Briggs, and every agent to widen their eyes at the sight.

“And sometimes, people change for the better. Not every man is born perfect, or is perfect, but a man who grows is a danger to the devil.”

Briggs lowered his revolver to his thigh, and kept it there with static-filled fingers. At the same time, Golden pointed his finger with trembling nervousness. Gathering every agent’s whim, he spoke with trembling words.

“F-Fire!”

Every agent opened fire at the poor man. All barrels growing hot, it allowed time to slow down for all who shot. Especially for that singular man.

Grazing his clothes, some of the linings of fabric chuckled against the fastening of lead. Continuing to have his palms firm in his pockets, gunsmoke soon swirled all around them.

Until all of their bullets stopped; leaving silence.

“W-What…”

He continued to stand, even amidst their attack.

Pulling both of his hands out from his pants, he let his left hover near his side. With his right, he had his palm facing them, but specifically at Golden. Using his voice, he commanded all.

—“Atomarer drucken.”—

Everyone was pushed back.

Like a massive tsunami wave, a gust of wind swept through the entirety of the courthouse. Even with strained shoes, or straightened bodies, everyone flew or tumbled down with little to no restraint. Slamming onto the marbled floor, or even the stone walls, even allies weren’t safe from the wave of air.

As they were all safely swept toward the front gate. Blasting the abhorrent gas into nothingness, anyone who couldn’t make it toward the front gate, perfectly reached their destination.

Feeling his shoulder blades scraping against the marble, David tilted his head up. Using his recovering vision, he peered deep at the man who helped him, and felt his mouth slightly twitch.

‘Can it be … no, it can’t …’

David shook his head, before getting up sluggishly from the floor. Turning his attention away from the courthouse, David and everyone else waiting for him soon began their sprint.

Stan carried Fred on his back, and Gary and Diego did the same for Miles and Jack. Despite looking weak, Gary kept his legs from buckling under Miles’ weight, while Diego had a much harder time keeping afloat. With David carrying Luna in his arms, and Benn on his back, he burdened the most weight on himself.

Last but not least, Hope strained all of her gums, as she hunched her back forward. Having Luke settle on her, every step was a stomp she bestowed.

All of them were running towards two sets of automobiles. One was the brown van they rode in, and the other… was a Chrysler. Having three people already inside, with a bowl-cut haired man being the driver, it was clear how David saved the group just in time.

“Get in! We must head to the Dark Angels building at once!” Yelled Boris.

The rest of the Dark Angels ran into the van, with Diego dumping Jack into the driver seat. Although he couldn’t run, he could at least drive. Letting the headrest cushion his head, and the seat softening his back, he could’ve slept right there.

Until he heard a couple of gunshots from the courthouse.

Hope dumped Luke into the passenger seat, while everyone else barged into the back seats. Not caring who sat who, some of them laid on the floor, while others sprawled onto the metallic seats.

“Buckle your butts!”

As the back doors closed, Jack thrusted his right foot on the gas. Escaping with whatever they had, he narrowed his eyes forward, and ignored the many gunshots that followed.

Hearing the tires burn rubber, smoke trailed from the rear. Seeing it all from his left side mirror, he even saw the government buildings fading in the distance.

“Attention all units! Attention all units!”

Crashing through the front gate, it was like cardboard to the bumper. Feeling the impact upon his fingers, he continued to push the pedal to its fullest the more he drove. Even when his eyes felt like anvils, taking a break was the last thing they needed.

“The Dark Angels have gone rogue! I repeat!”

Once they were in the city limits, it would be a free for all. Because after all …

—“The Dark Angels have gone rogue!”—

They were dubbed thee unforgiven.