"Thanks for the assist. We'll take it from here."
Ryuuto flicked a few blades like it was habit—sharp, efficient—and the ropes that had strangled the special police snapped apart under his High-Speed movement. Nets tore free from the beams. Men who'd been dangling and helpless hit the floor, coughing and wide-eyed as they scrambled for their gear. He didn't waste sympathy. He used the Leaf Great Whirlwind in quick, precise arcs to blast open exits, pushing the terrified crowd toward the doors with forced calm and sharper speed.
"Damn it, it's them again! Nobody gets out alive!" Green Goblin shrieked from above, steering his glider like a man who'd been born to terrorize terminals. He dove. Shuriken flashed, and he twisted to avoid them—but then Gwen's webs whipped out, snaring his glider tight. The contraption wobbled like a drunk bird, nearly going down.
People ran. Those still coherent shoved past each other and fled; no one lingered to be dramatic. The terminal became a moving blur of bodies and rolling suitcases.
"Perfect." Ryuuto didn't smile. He always preferred action to applause. He had a job: keep people alive. The rest was headline material.
Green Goblin gnashed his teeth and fired a laser to cleave Gwen's bindings. He shot free with a manic grin. "I'll gut you two first!" he promised, and gunned after them.
Before he closed the distance, Ryuuto's fingers had already shaped seals—fast, practiced. Two jets of flame snapped out of his mouth: Fire Style: Fire Dragon Ball. The hot breath of it slammed into the Goblin's path; he flailed, hands up, a violent roar breaking from behind his mask.
"Boom!" Sparks bloomed, metal shuddered. For a second it looked like the Goblin would be toasted—then Deadpool popped into existence between the blaze and the green lunatic, taking the blast with a theatrically ruined mask.
Deadpool staggered, then the wounds knitting back like theater makeup. He grinned with that unhinged charm. "Missed a spot," he chirped to Ryuuto. "Why not split reality itself? Let's atomize everything—fun, right?"
Ryuuto managed a flat deadpan. "Not today, Wade. Not in an airport."
"Wade?" Green Goblin's voice bounced between rage and gleeful opportunity. He pivoted instantly, planting the seed of treachery. "Hey, pal—this kid's bad news. Team up with me and we can carve a masterpiece."
Deadpool cocked his head, considering with the dramatic seriousness of a man who heard something shiny. "Huh. Tempting. For the goddess of death's benefit, we might tango."
Ryuuto pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Magneto's manipulations or whatever had dragged Deadpool here again, and Wade was already chewing on the idea of grand alliances. Not ideal.
"Green Goblin, you're deluded if you think two of us is less than you," Ryuuto said, voice calm and lethal. "But fine—Gwen's got this. I'll let her have front-row revenge."
Gwen didn't wait for permission. She sprinted with the refusal of someone who'd seen enough victims. Her webbing moved like a living thing: swift, surgical. She wrapped a junked airport car in silk and flung it like a battering ram, aiming straight for Goblin's midair arc.
"You think that'll stop me?" he shrieked, ripping open a sack and hurling pumpkin grenades with wicked precision. Explosions burst like malevolent fireworks. The car shredded mid-flight and broke into flaming shrapnel. Gwen dove and weaved, dodging blasts with the practiced grace of a born acrobat.
Ryuuto kept low and moved through the ruin with economical steps. He didn't waste flashy displays—he conserved motion and intent like a gambler holding a winning hand. Deadpool bounced around in the chaos, knives glittering and voice never quiet enough for anyone's taste.
"This guy's sick," Ryuuto muttered as the terminal lit and thundered. "Saboteur, pyro, performance artist of doom."
Green Goblin hammered his laser volleys down, trying to pin Gwen, and cackled every time a grenade found empty space. But Gwen's agility bought time—time Ryuuto used to analyze, measure, and plan.
Shion pinged him in the middle of the noise:
[Ding! System Notice]
[Host: Ryuuto — Status: Combat Ready]
[Shion: Recommended: flank left — I'll feed micro-windowing. Don't embarrass me.]
Ryuuto smirked internally. Shion's tone was lazy, but the timing was immaculate. He shifted, ghosting left with micro-steps that ignored debris and pain thresholds. The world narrowed down to vectors, heat, and a single stubborn green target. Deadpool kept babbling about duel contracts and cosmic romance, but Ryuuto tuned it out. People mattered—not spectacle.
A chain of smaller explosions knocked a ceiling panel loose. Dust filled the air. The airport's alarm finally convulsed back to life, an angry mechanical wail overshadowed by human cries, but the evacuation had already been forced into motion.
Green Goblin, sensing momentum, dove for the kill—too confident by design, always wanting the climax. He strafed, shotgun-style volleys scything the corridor.
Ryuuto accelerated. For once he let the old stigma—Powerless Freak—be the lie that fueled him. He struck in a clean, brutal arc: a pressure point tap that sent Goblin's control hand spazzing; a seam in the glider exploited; the engine coughed. One well-placed kick and the glider yawed, losing altitude. Gwen's webs anchored it to a cargo crane. Not a kill, but control.
Green Goblin screamed and flailed as the machine twisted and sparked, finally grounded but still dangerously volatile. Deadpool applauded in a tone that was both sincere and theatrical.
Gwen landed beside Ryuuto, breathless but steady. "Clear the last exits. I'll secure him," she said.
Ryuuto glanced at the ruined terminal, at the people staggering to safety. He felt the old ember burn—smaller than rage, purer than revenge. He'd rewrite the "powerless" headline one rescue at a time.
"Good," he said. "Let's end the show."
The airport shell rang with hollow thuds, flickering lights, and the distant promise of reinforcements. But Green Goblin's grin hadn't faded. He was still wired with a dozen tricks left to play. The real confrontation—the one that would test whether Ryuuto's zero could become a legend—was still about to begin.