In a traditional Japanese-style house in New York, high walls, a garden with a pond, and a bonsai, everything seemed out of place in the city. To the unsuspecting eye, it looked like the home of an eccentric Japanese millionaire who had moved to the Big Apple.
Today, there was no one left to deceive, the neighborhood had been completely evacuated. In front of the large gate, at the entrance, two groups had gathered, on one side, ninjas, on the other, shadow soldiers. Similar, yet distinct.
At the front of the ninja group, an Asian man watched his rivals with a smile that suggested he was enjoying the situation.
"The Chaste, I knew you would come," he said.
Facing him, Stick replied,
"Today will be the day we pay for the founder's grudge."
Without further words, both sides charged into battle.
The ninjas moved with lethal agility, surprise attacks, precise strikes that annihilated instantly, they vanished into the shadows, making them difficult to counter for anyone. But The Chaste was no ordinary group. They had spent centuries fighting The Hand, their techniques were designed to neutralize this kind of threat. The fight remained evenly matched.
In the center, Murakami watched with amusement. An arrow flew toward his face, he stopped it with one hand.
"Shift," he laughed, "your tricks are outdated."
Stick advanced with his two sticks ready to strike. Murakami released the arrow, opened his arms, and stopped both sticks, without changing stance, he extended a leg and hit Stick, pushing him backward.
Stone, a member of The Chaste and an expert in hand-to-hand combat, attacked from behind. Murakami easily dodged, using Stone's own momentum to push him into Stick, causing both to collide. Seeing the numerical disadvantage, Murakami ran inside the house to a dojang, a training hall, stopped, not fleeing but seeking an advantageous position, as if challenging them, and assumed a fighting stance, signaling them to come.
Three arrows were shot simultaneously, he dodged them, and exactly where he moved, Stick waited with his sticks. Murakami caught one with his hand and released it with a movement that destabilized the elder, he took the opportunity to strike him in the chest. He turned to face Stone in close combat, Stone was stronger, but Murakami's martial skill prevailed, and after exchanging a few blows, he easily knocked him out.
"The heavy hitter is out, now let's see what you've got," Murakami mocked. Without the strong man, facing the remaining two would be easier.
Stick attacked again, but Murakami kept him at bay while dodging Shift's arrows. The elder began to show fatigue, he wiped the blood from his mouth. Then Shift shot toward the lights, plunging the room into total darkness.
"You think darkness will help you?" Murakami taunted.
After all, he had at least basic night vision, not a power, just the result of centuries of training and battle.
But those milliseconds his eyes took to adjust were enough for something to strike him from behind. Murakami had anticipated Stick and Shift's positions, he assumed Stone had returned, but the blow was different and far stronger.
"You're not Stone," he managed to say, as he didn't have time to see his attacker, Stick reached him and, taking advantage of the opening, hit him in the head, stunning him. Another punch sent him meters back, leaving him on the floor.
The distance gave him time to recover. Multiple arrows fell from the ceiling, forcing him to do a roll to dodge, he rolled toward Stick and executed a sweep that knocked him down. His new opponent attacked with brute force, but Murakami adjusted his style and, despite the physical difference, began to take the lead. All while dodging arrows constantly.
At one point, several arrows were shot simultaneously, and his attacker threw a punch. Murakami caught the arm, used it as a shield, and with a move, broke the opponent's arm. But the supposedly broken arm rose again and delivered a blow that fractured his nose.
"Metal?" Murakami murmured, noticing the hardness of the impact. He recognized the new attacker.
He decided to retreat and regroup, but the arrow rain continued.
Frustrated, he mocked Shift, "Your arrows are outdated, why don't you use a weapon, at least that would stand a chance."
"Let's see if a weapon can do this," the archer replied, surprising Murakami, who recognized Shift's voice, but this was not his voice. Murakami sensed something was wrong, looking around, he noticed the arrows surrounded him. He hadn't realized due to the low visibility. Now, in the middle of the arena, the arrows began to spark with electricity and connected, forming an electric grid on the floor that would have fried anyone who remained still.
For the next ten minutes, Murakami fought simultaneously against Stick and Bucky while dodging the electricity grid and the unknown archer's arrows. His martial instincts kept him alive, he adapted, regained control, and the fight balanced again. Bucky, exhausted, fell, Murakami knocked him away with a strike and, just then, spotted the mysterious archer. He recognized him, Hawkeye. The archer aimed directly at his head, but Murakami dodged, and Stick behind caught the arrow with one of his sticks.
Murakami saw Clint's position and lunged diagonally toward him, heading for a corner of the room. He felt something behind him and dodged, Stick's stick. Clint caught the stick, Murakami ignored it until he noticed something strange, the stick was the same one he had used to catch the arrow earlier. He looked at the floor, there were no arrows in that corner.
Although he realized something was wrong, it was too late. Clint pressed a button on the arrow he held, and an electric flash flowed forward. As if signaling, the rest of the scattered arrows in the room channeled their energy to that same tip, forming a thick line of electricity aimed at the arrow in Barton's hand. Murakami was in the center, his organs were literally fried by the discharge. He remained standing for a few moments, powered by the same current cooking him, until the energy ceased, leaving him inert on the floor.
Clint approached the body and sighed,
"It was harder than I expected."
Stick, breathing heavily from fatigue and injuries, replied,
"We've spent years trying to catch him, this time, we owe everything to you and Mr. Bucky Barnes, Mr. Clint Barton."
"Alright," Clint answered, "I have experience with this kind of people, if you surprise them, defeating them is relatively easy."
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+15 chapters in advance on Patreon.
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(just delete the hyphen)
80 power stones = 1 extra chapter (cumulative)