Opportune Time

Frizz shuffled behind a barrel, barely managing to hide in time. (If he got any closer, I would've been discovered.) He mused, taking several quiet breaths to calm himself.

"We're done patching up their wounds, sir; the bullets will have to be removed later.

The scarred man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, closing his eyes. (Fuck… More money to spend on.)

The big man added, "Several more will arrive soon; in the meantime, go outside and look for him. He couldn't have gotten far." The henchman nodded, ordering the others to go outside and track their recently escaped hostage.

Frizz grinned as he heard the orders given. (The two of them will be left alone then.) He paused as he darted his eyes to the several wounded men, clutching their wounds and groaning. (Well, I don't think they would be a threat.) He scoffed.

"How do you plan to explain this? Our bosses will be pissed if they know that one guy managed to escape from six of our armed people."

"Well, that 'one guy' has some fucking superpowers; I don't think that would be too hard to explain."

The big man snickered; he had more to say but kept his mouth shut for now. He wanted to see how his accomplice would handle the situation.

"This is my chance," Frizz whispered. "I don't hear their underlings anymore; they must have gone deeper into the woods or something."

In the dim part of the warehouse, the air slightly shimmered like water. (Those pistols of theirs are very problematic.) Frizz rubbed his chin as he tried to think of a plan. (My telekinetic shield will roughly take an hour to fully regenerate.)

Frizz restlessly scratched his unkempt hair. (I can no longer use telekinesis if I don't have my force field.) He mused, noting that the situation isn't really advantageous for him.

(Unlike before, my force field doesn't slowly regenerate over time.)

Then suddenly, Frizz's eyes sparked as an idea formed in his head. (That's right, I can throw things at them!) He excitedly thought as he looked around him, looking for something that he can properly throw. "This will do," he expressed as he slowly picked up a piece of wood.

However, Frizz's expressions slightly soured; aside from the piece of wood, there wasn't anything strong or durable enough to hurl. He glanced at the barrel in front of him. (I can throw this barrel,, but if I pick it up, they'll surely notice a big object suddenly floating.)

(This will have to do.) Frizz decided as he slowly poised himself in a proper throwing position, his right hand slowly cocking behind him. (One good hit in the head will do.)

Frizz darted his eyes between the two conversing kidnappers; he had a decent view of both of them, and he was confident that he could hit one. (Which one, though?) He paused, considering his target. He stared at the bigger man, the one that struck him with a brass knuckle. (That big, tall one beat me the most; however, I think he is just some senior muscle.) He then glared at the scarred man. (If I have to guess, he is some sort of vice leader or manager?)

Frizz exhaled; he made his choice, and that was to target the one who beat him the most and then interrogate the scarred man. He was in position and ready to throw the piece of wood in his hand; he took in a deep breath and roared as loud as he could.

"God gave me you! TO SHOW ME WHAT'S REAL!" Frizz roared the lyrics of a song, as he hurled the wood straight to the bigger man's head.

[System]

[Righteous Fury] is active!

*Crack!* A loud, sudden shout caught everyone's attention as a piece of wood burst into pieces as it hit its target. The scarred man cursed, "Shit!" as he took several steps back, his heart skipping a beat. The injured kidnappers snapped their heads at the source of the sound; however, all they could see was one of their leaders lying on the ground and their half-naked hostage.

"What the fuck!?" The scarred man cursed again as he pulled out his pistol—*Clang!* The sound of a barrel hitting a body resonated within the small warehouse; the scarred man dropped his pistol as he fell to the ground. From the dim area, Frizz instantly emerged and lunged at the six injured kidnappers while wielding a barrel, causing them to jolt in fear as they attempted to limp away.

"I'll hit you just enough to knock you all out!" Frizz declared to the injured kidnappers as they hobbled away with tears in their eyes. Adrenaline did little to suppress the stinging pain of their gunshot wounds.

Frizz aimed for their torsos, holding back significantly, not wanting to severely injure them. Just enough force to knock them down.. *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!* He struck each and every one of them before hurling the barrel aside and glared at the groaning men. "You people deserve this."

Frizz turned to see the scarred man reaching for his pistol. "Shit!" he exclaimed, charging forward and stomping the man's hand, and the gun beneath. "AHH!" The scarred man screamed in pain.

"Let's talk, shall we?" Frizz growled, picking the scarred man up by his collar.

"We have a lot to—" Frizz was cut off, a sharp pain stabbing his stomach. He looked down, a small pocket knife embedded in him. The scarred man grinned, twisting the blade deeper.

"AHH!" "GOD!" Frizz screamed in pain as he threw the scarred man against the wall, sounding a loud thud and groan, and then clutched his bleeding stomach.

"Oh fuck." Frizz pressed against the stab wound, trying to stem the bleeding. He gasped, collapsing to the floor. After registering what had happened, he quickly took off his shoes, smearing blood on them, and then tied his long socks together.

Frizz always wore long socks, preferring to slightly cover his leg hairs. He tightly knotted the connected socks around his stomach, placing the knot directly on the wound. "Oh crap, oh god," he groaned, the sight of the blood disturbing him more than the pain.

Frizz's iron peak perk suppressed some of the pain. Instead of a stinging, burning-like sensation, it felt like several needles pierced his stomach. He took several deep breaths trying to calm himself as he slowly darted his eyes to the cause of his wound. 

The scarred man groaned, rolling over and trying to get up, clothes covered in grime. However, Frizz managed to stand up first, briefly staggering as the pain spiked for a moment.

The big man he'd knocked out earlier was also waking up. Limping to him, Frizz pulled the holstered pistol from the man's belt. (A Glock, huh?) Frizz muttered, then struck the big man on the head with the gun, knocking him out again. He turned to the scarred man, his main target, who was barely on his feet.

Frizz aimed the Glock pistol at him, making the scarred man to put his hands up. "You and I are going to have a big talk," he threatened.

Three minutes later...

Frizz looked down on his stomach; it wasn't bleeding anymore. However, he noticed that the bleeding stopped mainly because of his perks and less so about the improvised sock tourniquet. He slowly removed his bloodied left hand and rubbed his fingers together; the blood had dried up.

"What's your name?" Frizz asked his bound and restricted hostage on the chair. 

The hostage, the scarred man, just glared and kept his mouth shut. Frizz didn't like the lack of answer, so he aimed the pistol at him. "Answer the damned question."

"Joseph," the scarred man replied as he seethed.

"What the hell do you want with—" 

"They're going to kill you." The scarred man, Joseph, replied as he cut him off. "First it was just you. However, you turned it into a war the moment you started fighting back."

"Of course, I am going to fight back; you and your people tried to kill me."

"Because you attacked us first!" Joseph angrily added.

"I stole what, twelve thousand or so pesos and a damned gun," Frizz angrily replied, mentally noting that the punishment was too severe for his crimes.

Joseph raised a brow, unable to reply for a few seconds and then recovered. "You still fucking stole from us and fucking attacked us!" Joseph replied with furrowed brows; he was angry. "How do you think the world fucking works?" He ranted while Frizz pressed the pistol's barrel on his head.

Joseph's expression did not change, retaining that furious glare. "You steal from us and we fucking forget it?" Joseph shouted.

"You attack us and then we just leave you alone?" Joseph scoffed in disbelief amidst his rage.

"If someone comes into your fucking house, robs you, and beats you senseless, are you supposed to just move on?" "Huh!?" Joseph asked, Frizz slightly faltering in his aim.

"No, you call the police, you call the neighborhood watch, you tell your friends, and you try to track them. And if they're caught…" Joseph paused for emphasis. "You make them pay."

Joseph glared at Frizz. "Jail time, post their faces and name on social media, and if you're lucky, the policeman might sympathize and even let you punch them once." He stopped to regain his breath.

"That's what we are aiming for: retribution," Joseph stated, emphasizing the word retribution. He hated the man in front of him and his audacity to question their actions when he had attacked first.