18. GUM GUM... PISTOL!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The trio moved fast, keeping low as they hurried toward cover, careful to stay out of the thickening smoke.

"Shit—what the hell is going on?" Rio coughed, his lungs burning from the whiff of gas he'd inhaled earlier.

"Poison gas, huh?" Rapper muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the chaos unfolding behind them. "The ones who sucked it up are going wild."

Rio's stomach dropped at that. The smoke had only irritated him, but… what if he lost control like the others?

"This has to be some kind of quirk booster," O'Clock said, eyes narrowing. "And it's spreading everywhere. We're not safe here either."

Rio clenched his fists. "Still, what the hell was that black gas earlier? How was it stealing quirks? I thought that wasn't even possible."

Quirks weren't plug-ins you could just pop in and out like a prosthetic. They were woven into a person's biology—extracting one would be like ripping out someone's skeleton while keeping them alive. The technology to do that shouldn't exist.

Before Rio could dwell on it, O'Clock burst into motion.

With a sudden dash, he closed the distance to the high school girl—the one who had been fighting earlier. She stood frozen, confusion clear on her face.

O'Clock scooped her up and vaulted over the cage, just in time—

A shadowy hand lunged from the black mist, reaching for her.

It swiped through empty air. A fraction of a second later, and her quirk would've been gone.

"I think we lost it," O'Clock said as he slipped back into cover.

"Why'd you run off like that, bub? And what's with grabbin' the chick?" Rapper grunted, arms crossed.

"Yeah, what's the big idea?!" the rabbit girl snapped, eyes narrowing.

Rio studied her carefully. She looked a lot like him. Same dark skin tone, same tiger mask—if not for the distinct bunny ears on her head, someone might mistake them for siblings.

"Huh? Who's the kid?" She squatted to his eye level, curiosity flickering across her face. "What are you doing out here, kid? It's dangerous."

"Way to go, Captain Obvious." Rio smirked. "Name's Tiger Thread. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand for a handshake.

Tiger Bunny raised a brow. "You're stealing my act now, huh?" Despite her words, her tone was light—teasing rather than offended.

O'Clock exhaled sharply, scanning their surroundings as the distant rumble of explosions shook the air.

"Rapper. Tiger Bunny," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "I feel like you two are on the level… so I'm gonna ask you to help me out."

"What about me?" Rio frowned, crossing his arms. He didn't like being left out. After nearly a year of training, you'd think O'Clock would have more trust in his capabilities.

"You stay right there, Tiger Thread," O'Clock said firmly. It seemed he'd already picked up on the alias. "It's too dangerous for you to be moving around when the situation is still unclear."

Rio scowled but relented. O'Clock was still pissed about earlier—probably best not to push him.

Tiger Bunny turned to O'Clock, arms folded. "And why the hell should I listen to some random dude I just met?"

Meanwhile, Rapper had his own priorities. "What about our death match?" he grumbled.

O'Clock exhaled sharply. "I'm actually the High-Speed Hero, O'Clock. And during a crisis, I have the authority to enlist civilian aid from people like you two."

Both of them stared at him in shock.

"YOU'RE A HERO?!" they shouted in unison.

O'Clock turned to Tiger Bunny. "Bunny, your uniform tells me you go to that hero school in Hiroshima. I'll straighten things out with your school so you don't get into any trouble."

A bead of sweat trickled down Tiger Bunny's face. The thought of her school finding out about this disaster seemed to terrify her.

"Erm… my school doesn't need to know a thing," she muttered. "How can I help?"

"Our mission is to escape the underground parking structure and make contact with the police up top," O'Clock briefed them, his sharp gaze sweeping the area.

"If you're too scared or if this is out of your comfort zone, stay here and hide while I call for backup." He was clearly instigating, but it worked—surprisingly well. The two were raring to go.

Rio scanned the chaos around them. Those who had inhaled the gas writhed in pain, while the staff remained disturbingly organized. They had gas masks on and avoided the densest parts of the gas. Those guys would be a problem.

As if reading his mind, O'Clock blitzed through the guards and returned almost instantly, tossing four gas masks to the trio. "Put them on," he ordered curtly.

The Rapper and Tiger Bunny strapped theirs on with ease, but Rio struggled with his.

Shit, why is this thing so stupidly oversized? A mask that big would leave gaps—it wasn't blocking anything.

O'Clock signaled for Rio to come closer. With a flick of his knife, he cut a section of the elastic headband. Then, pulling out a needle, he stitched it back together with practiced ease.

Rio slipped it on again. This time, it fit perfectly.

"So you're just casually carrying around a sewing kit? Didn't peg you for the type."

O'Clock didn't bother answering.

 "I also grabbed a gun while I was at it," O'Clock said, inspecting the barrel of the pistol. "It's just a prop for the matches, but it should do the job." He counted the remaining shots, mentally calculating how much use he could get out of it.

"Real men go empty-handed," Rapper scoffed, his disdain for weapons obvious.

"Alright, let's review the plan one last time." O'Clock shifted gears, refocusing the group. "The doors to the passages and emergency stairwells are locked, so our only way out is through the driveway. Based on the layout, the only obstacles there are a partition and some guards.That's thirty meters away—on the other side of the venue, I'm just gonna bulldoze my way across."

Everyone took a moment to process the plan, weighing its risks.

"Sounds simple enough," Rapper said with a shrug. The real danger was on O'Clock—compared to him, the risk for the rest of them wasn't nearly as high. That was something Rio figured they could all get behind.

"Yeah, so why do you need our help anyway?"

"There's something I'm worried about," O'Clock admitted. "That's why I need you two to go in first and get their attention."

"Huh. So you want us to act as bait?" Tiger Bunny pointed out.

"Bingo. If things get too dangerous, I'll give the signal. That's when you back off and protect yourselves. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one thing," Rapper said, raising a hand. "All those wackos going nuts out there—y'mind if I punch 'em?"

"Yeah, can I kick 'em?" Tiger Bunny echoed.

"What do ya mean by kick?" Rapper scoffed. "I already had a problem with ya bein' a chick and still wantin' to be a hero. What's society comin' to nowadays? You don't even got the most important thing for a hero."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Tiger Bunny crossed her arms as she gazed at him condescendingly.

"Punch power! If you wanna strike from the soul, a clenched fist is all you need. Hoppin' around and kickin' people? That's for little girls."

"I am a girl. Got a problem with that?" Tiger Bunny shot back, crossing her arms. "And I do have the most important thing for a hero. Kick power! A kick's five times stronger than a punch. One good shot to the noggin, and anyone's goin' down." She smirked.

"Geez, should I say elbow power to complete the trio?" Rio quipped.

"Beat it, kid!" they both snapped in unison.

O'Clock sighed. "Go easy on them. Most of them are innocent civilians—dosed without consent." He had no patience for their philosophical debate.

"Like I keep tellin' ya, holdin' back is no way to—"

"Go easy? Sure, sure!" Tiger Bunny cut Rapper off, then quite literally sprang into action. She vaulted over four meters into the air, twisting mid-flight before crashing down into the drugged-up audience with a powerful kick.

Rapper just grunted before bellowing, "ORA ORA ORA!!!" as he sent rampaging individuals flying left and right.

"You sure you don't need my help?" Rio asked, feeling useless just standing there while the other two took the spotlight.

"Just stay put and don't do anything stupid," O'Clock said, cocking his gun, ready to provide cover fire.

Rio watched with growing boredom as the trio systematically dismantled the fight club's defenses—taking down both staff and rioters with ease.

 He noticed that O'Clock seemed more focused on disabling the security cameras, his movements precise and methodical. The moment the last camera went dark, Rio observed something strange—the thick mist that had been flooding the area started to drift aimlessly, no longer creeping with purpose. The mist user isn't even here. That meant whoever was controlling it had lost their influence over the venue.

Rio was about to sigh in relief when movement at the entrance caught his eye. A hooded man slipped in, passing effortlessly between the guards. An enemy? Rio tensed. Something about this guy was off. He moved differently—calm, measured, dangerous. This wasn't some mindless brawler caught up in the chaos.

The man's stance shifted, shoulders squared, knees bent—jiu-jitsu.

Rapper immediately zeroed in on him. "Lookin' for some action? You some kinda martial artist? My kinda guy!"

Grinning, Rapper charged in like a long-lost lover reunited after a life-and-death separation.

The hooded man remained composed, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, waiting. As Rapper barreled forward, he unleashed a flurry of wild punches—heavy, fast, relentless. But the hooded man barely seemed fazed. He weaved effortlessly through the blows, moving with an almost inhuman grace, like a master ballerina in the middle of a perfect routine.

Then he countered.

His fist swung out—not in a standard jiu-jitsu strike, but in a wide, unnatural arc.

Stretching.

His arm extended impossibly far, like a whip uncoiling, and his knuckles smashed into Rapper's cheek with brutal force.

Rapper went tumbling across the floor, skidding to a stop.

Rio's stomach dropped.

What the hell was that? Rapper, for his part, was impressive—he didn't get knocked out cold from the impact. But as he sat on the floor in a daze, he spat out a tooth.

"What the hell are you, and what'd you do to my pal?!" Tiger Bunny swooped in. She leaped high into the air, flipping mid-flight to build momentum. The force behind her descending kick was enough to shatter bones on impact.

The hooded man reacted instantly. His knee shot forward, transitioning into a whip-like kick—his leg stretching over a meter to meet Tiger Bunny mid-air. The blow struck hard, sending her careening through the air like a kicked soccer ball. She crashed down in a heap—right on top of Rapper.

The hooded man wasted no time. He swung his arm backward, then lashed out with a punch that shot forward like a bullet.

"That arm—it stretches?!" Tiger Bunny gasped in disbelief.

In the nick of time, O'Clock appeared in front of them. He moved with precision, pulling out a knife and deflecting the attacker's outstretched arm, diverting what would've been a devastating blow.

The hooded man studied the fresh gash on his arm, watching it close up rapidly. Then, he turned his gaze to O'Clock, staring at him for an uncomfortably long moment, his eyes blazing with an unreadable emotion.

"Y-you… you are O'Clock!"