Yellow Teeth was still on his knees, staring in shock at the ten armed gang members now lying unconscious on the floor. His brain was clearly struggling to process what had just happened, how two people had taken down ten armed men in under two minutes.
But shock gave way to desperate rage. He wasn't done yet. He still had forty more gang members outside, and he'd be damned if he was going to let this humiliation stand.
"CHARGE!" he screamed at the remaining crowd visible through the broken doorway. "THEY CAN'T BEAT ALL FIFTY OF YOU! GET IN HERE AND FUCK THEM UP!"
The remaining gang members hesitated for a moment, clearly having second thoughts after watching their advance team get demolished. But peer pressure and the promise of payback won out. They started hyping each other up, slapping shoulders, working themselves into aggressive energy.
"We got this!"
"There's only like ten of them!"
"Fifty versus ten, we got the numbers!"
They charged through the doorway in a wave of bodies, weapons raised, yelling battle cries that echoed through the hallway.
Tòumíng turned to Ghost Claw, adrenaline already pumping through his system. "Can I fight?"
Ghost Claw nodded. "Everyone fights. That's the rule when we're defending the base."
Svetlana's expression shifted to something predatory and excited, a grin spreading across her face.
Tòumíng stepped forward, his mind immediately going to his new Naked Gun title. Time to test it. He needed a good one-liner, something that would activate the buff.
He looked at the charging mob and said with as much confidence as he could muster: "A fifty versus ten? What is this, Tokyo Revengers?"
The M.I.N.E. system interface lit up in his vision:
NAKED GUN ACTIVATED - PARTIAL
One-liner quality: Moderate (anime reference, decent timing)
Strength upgraded by 60%
Speed doubled
Duration: 60 seconds
Not the full double-strength buff, but still significant.
Svetlana's eyes literally sparkled, her attention snapping to Tòumíng with sudden intense interest. "You? Scrawny twig boy? You vatch Japanese cartoon?"
Tòumíng nodded, feeling the buff coursing through his muscles, his perception of time already shifting as his enhanced speed kicked in.
Svetlana grinned and leaned close to Ghost Claw, whispering loudly enough for Tòumíng to hear: "I think I just made new bestie."
Ghost Claw's voice was flat. "Good for you."
The gang members crashed into the defenders like a wave.
Marco ran forward and jumped into the air mid-charge, his legs coming up in rapid succession. He hit a right kick that caught one attacker in the jaw, immediately transitioning into a left kick that caught another in the ribs, both strikes landing before gravity could bring him down.
Then, still airborne, he grabbed a third attacker's neck and used his momentum to twist into an airborne chokehold, bringing the man down with him as he landed. All three targets dropped within seconds.
Polo grinned and called out, "Show off!"
He grabbed two approaching gang members by their collars, pulled them toward each other with brutal force, and smashed their heads together with a sickening crack. Both went limp immediately.
But Polo wasn't done. He grabbed their legs—one in each hand, and started using the unconscious bodies as weapons, swinging them like heavy clubs to swat away five more attackers who got too close. Bodies collided with bodies in a grotesque display of improvised combat.
Tòumíng ran forward, his enhanced speed making the charging gang members seem to move in slow motion. "Leave some for me!"
He reached the first target,a heavyset guy with a metal pipe, and threw an uppercut. The technique was sloppy, halfassed, more instinct than training. But the 60% strength buff made up for poor form. His fist connected with the guy's chin and the man's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as he dropped to the floor unconscious.
Tòumíng grabbed another attacker's head with both hands and headbutted him with everything he had. The impact made stars explode in Tòumíng's vision, but the other guy got it worse,his nose exploded in a spray of blood and he collapsed in a heap.
Two down.
Tòumíng's eyes scanned the chaos and landed on a familiar face in the crowd, Donny, the nervous guy from the alley weeks ago, the one who'd tried to run before the fight even started.
Their eyes met. Tòumíng said one word: "Run."
Donny's self-preservation instincts, clearly honed from previous bad decisions, kicked in immediately. He turned and sprinted for the exit, pushing through his own allies to escape.
Svetlana whistled, impressed, and leaned close to Ghost Claw again. "And he fights like headless barbarian? Scratch that, I think I have new lover."
Ghost Claw didn't look at her. "Keep it in your pants and actually fight. That's what we're here for."
Svetlana groaned but complied, her eyes locking onto a particularly large fighter, six-foot-three and built like he regularly bench-pressed cars.
She charged forward and punched him directly in the chest.
Not the face. Not the stomach. The sternum.
The impact was devastating. Tòumíng could actually see the man's chest visibly cave inward, his ribcage compressing from the force. He flew backward like he'd been hit by a truck, crashed into the wall behind him, and slumped to the floor motionless.
"SVETLANA!" Ghost Claw's voice cut through the chaos. "HOLD BACK! Don't kill anybody!"
Svetlana looked genuinely disappointed but nodded. "Fine. No more killing blows. Just maiming."
The blonde British kid with the popsicle, Tòumíng still didn't know his name, called out from near the entrance. "Oi, is a stab alright?"
Ghost Claw sighed deeply. "Yes, Ben. But do NOT kill anyone."
Ben, apparently that was his name, sighed and muttered, "Fine. I promise to only kill the non-hot ones."
He sauntered forward with exaggerated casualness, his eyes scanning the charging mob until they landed on a particularly tall gang member currently barreling toward him with a bat raised.
Ben immediately shifted his entire demeanor. He dropped into a helpless, terrified persona, his hands coming up in surrender, his eyes going wide with fake fear.
"Please don't hurt me!" His voice cracked perfectly, sounding genuinely scared. "I don't want any trouble!"
The tall gang member slowed, clearly confused by this sudden surrender. "You... you're giving up?"
"One hundred percent!" Ben nodded frantically. "I surrender! Completely! Totally! Just don't hurt me!"
The gang member grinned, clearly thinking he'd found an easy target. "I won't kill you if you lead me to where you keep the valuables. Money, equipment, whatever's worth taking."
Ben nodded eagerly. "Yes! Of course! I'll show you! Just please don't hurt me!"
He started walking toward one of the side doors, his movements dainty and careful, playing up the scared civilian act perfectly. The tall gang member followed, his guard lowering as he focused on the promised loot.
Ghost Claw called out, her voice carrying fake disappointment. "Ben! You're betraying us?! Really?!"
Ben gave a cheeky wink before opening the door. "This is where we hide the money. Lots of it. Please don't hurt me when you find it."
The gang member's grin widened. He stepped through the doorway eagerly, already imagining the score—
Ben closed the door behind them.
Nobody else dared follow. There was something about Ben's body language, about the way the door clicked shut, that screamed "terrible things are happening in there."
The sounds that followed confirmed it.
Screaming. Pure, undiluted agony. The kind of sounds that came from pain beyond description. Then stabbing sounds, rapid, wet, precise. Multiple impacts in quick succession.
Twenty seconds later, the door opened.
Ben emerged looking exactly as he had when he'd entered, his white t-shirt still pristine, his baggy pants unstained, his expression casual and bored. He was about to continue sucking on his blue popsicle when he noticed a small speck of blood on it.
He made a disgusted face and tossed the popsicle into a nearby trash can.
Lucy, who'd been watching from the sidelines with her arms crossed, cringed visibly.
"Why the fuck did we hire this psycho again?"
Ghost Claw didn't take her eyes off the fight.
"Because he's good at his job. Surveillance and security. Best we've ever had."
"He just stabbed a guy to death in twenty seconds and came out looking like he'd been shopping!"
"I said not to kill anyone!" Ghost Claw called toward Ben.
Ben waved dismissively. "He's not dead! Probably! Maybe! Fifty-fifty odds!"
Lucy shook her head in disbelief. "I expected a gay British guy to be fun to hang around with. You know, fashion advice, witty banter, good playlists. Not a complete fucking psychopath who stabs people while keeping his outfit clean."