Riley, having shown Nina merely the surface of the absurdities, recognized his need for strength.
—There he was, on the ground.
Sweating and breathing heavily, he'd just tapped to a rear naked choke, having gotten his back taken. His legs had been spread by his opponent's ankles as they hooked in, preventing him from moving much. And, through a technique he himself didn't fully understand, his hand (which had tried to prevent choking by covering his carotid artery) had been moved, and he was put in a proper strangle for the second time in his life.
Though,
If Nina was the one doing that to me… ah, what a strange thought.
Quickly discarding it, he got back up slowly, breathing heavily as he shook hands with his opponent, the roll starting once more.
Having learned the ultra-basics of BJJ in this first class, he worked his way into having his opponent on top of him. His opponent, ever-so-kind to the new-guy, let Riley continue to practice his defense.
Riley used his knee and his hips, pressing off the ground and knocking his opponent off balance, forcing them to place their hand down to avoid falling. He grabbed their hand, tucked in their elbow, and placed his foot over their ankle, giving another roll and ending up in their guard.
Wait, this is just like that area where Frank strangled me!
Remembering the sensation of being choked in a life-or-death fight, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Quickly readjusting, he looked this situation over from his own perspective, able to use a variety of abilities.
If I'm going to use this move, then…
Keeping his opponent's wrist to the ground, he moved his arm underneath their elbow, grabbing his own wrist. In an Americana, he kept his opponent's fist to the floor, moving their elbow up until his opponent tapped.
I could use [Hanging] or even [Crashing] to keep and move their wrist down to the ground, assuming it's a real deal.
Getting back up, sweating like crazy yet not too exhausted, Riley continued with his first day in BJJ.
…
Doing a bit of extracurricular activity, Riley researched more into Muay Thai. Particularly attracted to leg kicks, as it was a downwards movement which could be amplified by [Falling], he had decided it so.
My city's a good one. Not too much crime. But I can't fight against the despair of the world by sitting in a comfortable place, can I?
Getting up from the couch, causing Nina to turn her head, Riley was called for.
"Hey, where are you going? Your parents put me in charge of supervising you, y'know," she said with a soft smile, to which Riley seemed unamused.
"No way. I'm not going off to die, alright? Especially this time, since I'll be going up against weaklings."
"Weaklings? Who? Children?"
She got up, and Riley quietly chuckled, facing her head on with his hands in his pockets. "The mafia," he answered.
Ah, yes. Organized crime—well known for being very weak.
"Huh!?"
He waved his hand, turning around. "Aaanyways, I'm heading out towards some of the bigger cities. I'm pretty fast, though, so I should be back in time before mom and dad get home."
As he walked away, she ran and grabbed onto his sleeve. "Hold on, wait up. You know dang well I can't just let you run off alone, say some ominous stuff, and then sit still like everything's okay!"
"True, true. Then, wanna come with? Or maybe I can bring Joey along? Yeah, just the three of us; you at a hotel while I go fight the mafia, or gangs, or other criminals—yeah, sounds like a plan."
With lightheartedness she hadn't seen from him in years emanating from his voice and joyed smile, Nina did not have much in the way of counterarguments.
He knocked on Joey's bedroom door, opening it up. Seeing his younger brother on his tablet, he waved gently. "Yo, wanna go to Las Vegas?"
As expected, the little boy agreed.
Grabbing his white cape, his fluffy unicorn motorcycle helmet, and blue shirt, he had once more taken on the role of a "superhero," summoning [Crashing] and two of [Hanging] to lift the car up into the air.
It was an overwhelmingly spectacular feat. Riley himself had never actually attempted to see how much [Hanging] had improved, so he was quite surprised to see it able to lift up a car.
With his prison massacre, he'd been able to lengthen the noose, allowing it to wrap around; sharing the burden with another of equal strength, it was unlikely to fall.
And, of course, if it ever did, he could unsummon [Crashing], and fly to catch everyone himself.
…
"Sir, you have to be twenty-one to be able to book a hotel here."
His expression blank, his mouth slightly open, he stared at the woman dumbfounded. Slowly crossing his arms, he nodded his head.
"Oh… okay, I see."
Beginning to sweat, he looked back at Joey and Nina, having embarrassed himself greatly.
"Well then, um… guess we're just going out to eat."
Stepping out of the hotel with his family, Riley looked around at the city. It was a very beautiful one, with all of its colorful lights.
Riley fiddled with his pockets, finding—
Ah, crud. I'm broke.
Indeed, without a job, he didn't have any money. It was in times like these that he envied Nina rather than admired her, simply because her parents let her get an allowance.
Well, I suppose I can gamble my money up? Wait, but you've gotta be twenty-one to be able to gamble. And it's a whole different ball-park than just drinking… shit.
"Okay, let's just go on a walk!" Riley excitedly exclaimed, trying his best to keep up a happy spirit for Joey.
"You're just saying that because you're broke, huh?" Nina heartlessly commented, impaling him through the heart with her words.
"...Well, y'know. Nina, do you have money?"
To which, she smugly smirked, flashing her wallet.
"Indeed, I do! Though, let's be honest—out here, my money's probably just enough to get some french fries from McDonalds."
"Yeah…"
"Ooh, ooh!" Joey shouted, looking out at the pretty lights. "I wanna walk! I wanna see all of the cool lights, Wiley!"
The plan had been cemented, and so the three walked down the Las Vegas strip. Seeing all of the grand lights, the eiffel-tower-knockoff, the great pond and the people, the three did thoroughly enjoy themselves.
That was, until a man bumped into Nina. Walking away, he heard the girl he'd stolen from mumble a "Huh? My wallet, it's—"
But that was all that was allowed.
"Yo, sorry man," Riley weakly muttered, trying to catch up with the pickpocket. "Um, sorry to both, but uh…"
Indeed, he was sweating profusely. Not very good with social confrontation except for violence, Riley looked away.
"Um, can you show me your pockets? Uhh… like, my friend, she, um, did you steal her—"
"Fuck off."
The pickpocket walked away, scoffing and disappearing into a crowd of people. Riley held his chin, not wanting to use any overt supernatural forces. That's when he remembered the bloodlust which Kara had mentioned to him.
It can't be that bad, can it?
Activating his bloodlust, the manifestation of his crimes, his murders which he'd performed for Ghira's amusement, it was overwhelming.
In an instant, the pickpocket was overwhelmed. Drowning, submerged, choking, strangled, engulfed, buried, crushed, tortured, eviscerated and shown no mercy.
The smell of iron bars, rusted with blood. Flashes of mutilated corpses, broken necks, fire and gunshots.
The day of the 1,000-Man-Slaughter had overwhelmed his senses, freezing them in place. Riley himself was unaffected, watching the pickpocket collapse to his knees and vomit. Slowly, he took Nina's wallet back, handing it to her.
It had been just a flash, but it was enough to bombard his psyche, as Riley walked away with her, turning back with tensed brows, concerned for the man's psyche.
"What did you do to him?" Nina asked, and Riley gulped.
"Um, an ability I haven't used before… yeah, I hope he's okay. I mean, he has to be, it's only mental stuff. A-anyways, let's just get some food."
…
The prices of the Vegas Strip were too much for him, so they had to leave and go to a McDonalds far away. Nina ordered for herself and Joey, since Riley wasn't exactly hungry.
As she paid, he hugged her from behind. Her face turned a soft pink, her ears flaring up with heat as she whispered angrily.
"W-what are you doing?"
"The broke boyfriend hug."
"...But we're not dating."
"I know, I just figured it'd be funny," he added, letting go of her. "I'm trying to be a bit more extroverted, cause, y'know… being a hero and all. And, um… sorry. If it wasn't funny, I sincerely apologize."
"...Whatever, it's cool, I guess."
They waited for their food, and Riley promised her.
"One day, I'm gonna get super rich. Then, I'll pay you back for this. Promise."
"You better."
Riley looked up.
Well, I suppose I need money, don't I? And I did come here to fight the mafia… I mean, it's blood-money; I don't think it matters if I steal it from them.
The two got their food, and Riley watched her and Joey eat it. Meanwhile, he looked off into the distance, shrugging his shoulders.
"They're weaklings, after all. Alrighty then, I've gotta get to work. So I'll leave you two some stuff."
Firstly, there was [Hanging], which Riley summoned. He asked Nina to lift her shirt, so it wrapped around her waist and could be deployed at a moment's notice. Of course, since [Hanging] had a mind of its own, he could trust it.
Secondly, he gave her [Shooting], and tucked it away inside her pockets.
"Okay. Alrighty, you two have fun. Thanks for babysitting, Nina—I'll pay you back later."
Riley got up from his seat and went off, putting on his motorcycle helmet and wrapping his white blanket around his neck. Then summoning [Hanging] and flying inside of a casino through a window on the upper floors. He snuck inside and walked around, eventually finding a backroom where he entered inside.
From what Riley could see, it was an underground gambling ring, away from the main area.
Smelling cigarettes and alcohol, he wanted to plug his nose.
There was a man with a gun trained on his forehead by many people in suits. The victim was handing over a suitcase, presumably filled with money, dressed in a good suit with combed over hair and glasses. Though,
"Who the fuck are you?!"
The armed men turned their guns at the teenager wearing the ridiculous outfit.
"Ah. Right, this seems suspicious. Y'all affiliated with the mafia in any way, shape, or for—
A storm of bullets from their handguns assailed him. Well, even then, "assailed" was a bad word for it. More-so, it bothered him.
Just as people hated needles, Riley hated handgun bullets. Not enough to even make it to the bone, it still broke skin and caused him pain bad enough to really annoy him. Particularly, one of the bullets shot through his helmet's visor, hitting him in the eyebrow.
Riley bent over, grunting in pain as the bullet rolled out of his helmet alongside glass, the black screen obscuring his right eye having been broken.
"Oww… seriously, you guys are starting to piss me off."
Standing up, Riley had [Hanging] disarm them quickly, before approaching the man who was held at gunpoint. He held the victim's hand and led him away.
"What the fuck?" The men whispered under their breaths, as Riley kept his hands in his pockets. The bullets, still lodged in his skin, were quickly forced out, dropping to the floor as the wound quickly healed.
"Hey—you could have killed this guy," Riley reminded them, patting the man in glasses on his shoulder. "What were you doing with him?"
"You piece of shit… what even are you?"
"...I have no need to answer your questions. Talk."
In the blink of an eye, Riley appeared before one of the men, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him against a table. The others began to run out of the room, disarmed before [Hanging] forcibly tied them all together.
Meanwhile, Riley used an Americana on the man, slowly driving his elbow up whilst his wrist remained pinned to the table.
"A-agh, shit, shit! You—fuck, stop!!"
"Then talk. What was all this about?"
"Pff, we're just here to collect money—protection fees, shit!"
"Oh, alrighty."
Riley let go immediately. He put his hands back in his pockets and turned towards the man in glasses. "Is he telling the truth?"
"...Yeah, that's right," he responded, and Riley nodded his head. Heaving a sigh, Riley groaned and walked over to him, asking—
"Fuck! Let us go, or we'll kill you!"
"Get us out of here, you stupid piece of shit!"
"Seriously, we'll—"
Riley grabbed one of their heads and shook him around a bit.
"Stop! Screaming! When! I'm! Talking!"
Complaining, he stopped, noticing the urge once more overtaking him. He grabbed his shirt, trying to hold himself back as he talked to the man in glasses.
"Do you know their boss?" Riley asked, recovering his voice from yelling so much. "I'm reeaally about to do something bad if I don't leave here ASAP. So, please, who's their boss?"
"E-er, Steve Harrington—he's a popular figure around here. Spends most of his nights at Viela's Bar, it's not too far from here. Tall guy, broad shoulders and blond. He's pretty stand-out."
Grasping the information, Riley gently shook the man's hand. "Thanks for the info, big dog. I'll see if I can work out a way for you to be protected without needing to pay fees."
Riley headed towards the exit, when a comment was spoken.
"You fucker. You really think you can hurt our boss and get away with it? We'll kill you and your entire family when we find out who you are," one of the men spat.
Riley stopped. Dead in his tracks, he went utterly still. Stiffness in his muscles.
Turning his head, the Failed Star looked down upon the man. With a soft frown, Riley said, "...Someone who can say that kind of thing so easily… either he has a family he doesn't care about, or he doesn't have one at all."
The man's eyes widened, as he squirmed harder, trying to escape the rope.
Riley unsummoned [Hanging] around them all, letting them move around freely. The man who had spoken, someone with slicked back hair, climbed to his feet, balling up his fists.
Looking up at him, Riley's right eye was plainly visible. To which, the man looked into it, finding a pained expression.
" —Do you think you'd actually be able to figure out who I am before I kill you?"
Overwhelmed by his weak flesh, Riley obeyed.
He took a step—with his left foot. Raising his right leg, bending it, and throwing it out as a kick. His right hand was used to chop the air behind him, allowing the body mechanics to deliver the strongest kick possible.
[Falling], too, was deployed. The downwards movement of the leg kick was sped up, accelerated, and finally—
—It sounded like a gunshot. Riley's shin tore through flesh and bone, ripping the man's leg off at the knee.
Blood sprayed, and the man screamed in pain, collapsing to the floor. Riley used [Hanging], wrapping the rope around his neck to prevent that before turning over to the rest of the gang members.
I know it's wrong. I know it's wrong, and I'm sorry.
Having already given in once, Riley determined that the rest of the men would die as well. He turned towards the man in glasses, giving him a small wave.
"Sorry about the mess. But don't worry—it'll be cleaned up on its own automatically. And when you get asked about what happened tonight, just tell them that the other members squealed their bosses location when I tortured them. I'll make sure to let people know that I was the one who killed their boss."
Quietly exiting the room, he allowed [Hanging] to run rampant on its own. The youth calmly left the room, a sorrow placed upon his heart from disregarding his moral compass to satiate the desires of the flesh.
…
"Hey, no one under twenty-one is allowed ins—"
A gun was drawn and pressed against the bouncer's forehead. "Yeah, I get it. I'm here for more than just drinks."
Walking further inside, he found the man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with golden hair. Riley walked over calmly, to which the man didn't even look at him, continuing to drink with women as his guards approached Riley, patting him down, to which they found nothing.
"'Scuse me sir, you wouldn't happen to be Steve Harrington, would you?"
The man turned towards Riley finally, and rolled his eyes. "I am. What do you want?"
"Just wanna know—you got any ties to the mafia? I'm reeaally trying to keep this place safe, and I'd say I don't—"
"Shut up. If you want money, or you're looking for a loan to gamble back the money you lost—ask someone else. One of my lesser men can handle that; I'm not interested in hearing any sob stories."
"I see."
Riley remained still, looking at the fancy drinks Steve had.
"Mind if I get a drink with you?" Riley asked, and Steve once more sighed, before some of the women surrounding him laughed at Riley's comical appearance. To which, Steve scooted over, allowing the youth to sit next to him.
Riley took the seat, giving a small "Thank~you~" before grabbing a glass himself. He held it in his hands, looking like a dunce for a few seconds as he tried to figure out how to drink with a motorcycle helmet on.
"Hm… yes, troubling indeed."
This got a laugh out of Steve. "Y'know, you're funny. I like that. So, what's with the dress-up? Or is this your attempt at getting my attention?"
"Pffft! Wow, you have quite the ego, mister," Riley laughed. He continued to laugh until it became awkward, at which point he began to slap the table, before instantly stopping. "No, no, I'm not looking for your attention. In fact, I'm trying to hide my identity."
"Oh? And why's that?"
Without giving any cues, Steve pressed a handgun against Riley's underarm, aimed directly at his heart. It was hidden from security cameras and from the lovely ladies who sat facing them.
"...Well, it's because I'm here to kill you, mister."
Unaffected, Riley turned his head, his right eye peeking through a broken visor, glaring at the man. "I'm here to kill you, and put a stop to your extortion."
"...Pfft."
Laughing. Steve had given an earnest chuckle, as he swapped hands holding the gun, wrapping his free arm around Riley and pulling him closer.
"C'mon," Steve lightheartedly exclaimed, "you can't be serious! Even if I were to die, there's no way extortion would stop. This is a big city—it's ingrained into everything. One person's death won't fix anything at all."
"..."
Riley was silent. Indeed, he was not dumb enough to misunderstand Steve. He was telling the truth, despite being such a horrible person.
"That's true. But, even still… —Do you have a family, Steve?"
"I do."
"A wife?"
"I do."
"Are they in your will?"
"They are."
"And you're chatting up women much younger?"
"I am."
"Got it."
Unceremoniously, Riley summoned [Bleeding] and beheaded him instantly. The walls, tables, drinks, and roof were all painted in blood. Riley grabbed a drink, walking away as Steve's guards shot him repeatedly in the back. Continuing to lumber on, he sighed in annoyance at himself, tossing the glass to the floor, spilling the concoction of blood and alcohol.
Even if he knew it was wrong, he still went and killed people anyways. What a horrible person he must be, then.
I'm not in the mood for a drink.