Fighting Chance Vol 2 #16

Getting hurt was something he had gotten used to these past eight months. He’d come to know all sorts of pain; falling, stabbing, punching, kicking, shooting, and everything in between had all left a little hidden mark inside him.

The healing might have wiped it from his skin, but his soul kept the score.

Zain had even thought he’d built up a tolerance to it all; that he could tough his way through any pain and keep his focus, keep his cool, and just push through.

The second something inside him snapped, he knew he was right.

“NAH!”

The stabbing, twisting pain in his side didn’t go away. Zain didn’t need it to. The pain was all he knew, it was what he was used to.

Every single cut and bruise on his body burned like fire as the whole world snapped into place and he knew what he had to do, what he was going to do.

The red he’d seen before blew open as everything went past weak points in his eyes. No, this  was all meat maps and bone bricks; blood pumping hot, veins pulsing under skin and black cloth. He saw how easy it would be to just... break it all.

He looked at the ninja... the one who twisted the blade.

Zain grinned at him with a mouth full of iron and red, teeth feeling too big in his face.

"...A'ight."

He roared.

The sound more body than voice, Zain twisted his hips to the side and rushed forward. It took only a split second to get free from the knife, free from the wall. A split second where skin parted; blood spilling hot and wet as his hoodie ripped where fabric tried to act like it was tougher than him. 

Pain clenched in his chest but something burned harder in his gut as he used it to keep pushing forward, more than just ki giving him the energy to fight back.

Five bloody fingers grabbed the ninja's wrist, the one holding the steel. “Hi.”

The ninja tried to pull back, his eyes wide behind the mask as Zain squeezed.

Bones gave way like dry sticks as the ninja screamed, a high, thin sound that only made the smile on his face bigger.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

Before the Hand fighter could even think about pulling away, Zain crashed his forehead into the ninja’s mask. He felt material for a split second, then skull, then something soft and wet as everything in his way exploded in a spray of red and bone.

Another blade whooshed by his ear, but Zain was already moving inside the swing as he brought his knee up and smashed it where muscle met joint.

SNAP.

The leg folded wrong, and Zain caught the bounce as he screamed back in the other ninja’s face, and shoved.

The body pinwheeled into rebar, but he didn’t care. Zain whirled around, broken chain wrapped tight around his fist, links warm from too much blood to know whose it was. He threw the weight with a hook, metal-wrapped fist heavy and hard. 

Rib cage met metal and bone bowed out as another ninja gasped hard and loud, a crater where his chest used to be. The ninja went flying, no scream on a dead man’s lips, but his friend to the right made one for him as Zain grabbed his arm and twisted it back, hard, way further than it was meant to.

Another black mask rushed his way, sword up but feet wrong. 

Bad move, bruh.

Zain palmed the broken-wrist ninja, the man yelping for a second before a hard grip around his neck shut that down. With another scream, the boy hurled the ninja right into his friend with the sword and sent them both flying. Two bodies met plywood, the whole stack splintering apart and slamming down on them both.

Feet scraped behind as his feet slid on gravel, grip wrong and stance raw enough that Collie and Stick would have called him a dumbass, but it didn’t matter. Every move came from the same place; raw rage wired into his tendons. He rolled his shoulder and hit a face with the bottom-three knuckles; barely a punch but it worked anyway.

Pop!

Jaw went right. Teeth went left. “IF I’M DYING, WE DYING!”

Three shapes rushed him from the side, red in his eyes picking out every part of them they left open and free. He spun to meet the first, angry and raw, chain fist cutting an arc as he caught another mask in the jaw.

A ragged breath, loud and low as the laugh that came with it, spilled out of him as bone cracked even louder in the killing field of a construction site.

With a scream, the second swung low.

Zain roared back as he blocked the hit with his knee and stomped out a foot, snapping at number three with a chain that returned slick with blood on the end. The air went thick with dust and copper, screams bouncing off cement as they came back shorter.

One hand crushed a throat, the cartilage giving way the same moment his other snapped an arm, bone popping loud enough to hear over the screaming. 

"WHO'S NEXT?! C'MON!” He was winning.

It was working.

“I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU! YOU HEAR ME? ALL O-!”

Light cut through everything; an ugly red line shimmering as it moved.

Zain’s left arm came up because his left always did first; a bad habit. He hit with his right, so why not block with his left, right?

Nothing blocked this time.

The glowing blade...

It didn't stop.

It cut.

Through everything.

Bone. Muscle. Ki. All of it.

The...

It him like a bucket of ice water, cold and sudden as it shocked his system and pulled him out of the red for a split second.

Zain blinked as he looked down where the sword stuck; vibration buzzing in the stump above his elbow; his hoodie smoking in the same spot where fabric met heat.

Just... above the elbow.

...He...

He laughed.

It came out wet and sloppy, more red spilling from his teeth.

He... held the blade. In his arm.

He looked at the ninja.

The ninja's eyes... wide. 

"My... turn," Zain gurgled.

Ki wrapped his fist in a blue-white bite buzzing in his ears.

He hit him.

One punch.

The head pulped in his path, fist blowing through it like an over-ripe pumpkin. 

Just...

...hissing.

...dripping.

He was... standing.

Breathing.

Huh... huh... huh...

He was... standing. In... parts.

Oh…

He looked down.

Oh, God.

The... the smell. Copper. Iron.

He... he...

He looked... at his left arm.

The glowing blade was still inside him; no, through him. The thing came out right past the part of his arm that wasn’t there anymore, blood painting the glowing blade a deeper red. His left arm hung by threads.

Literally, hoodie fibers stretched, stained with blood and bits of meat, as the sword slid, slid, and slid out of the rest of his meat to clatter to the ground. ...Nah.

Nah, that... that ain't...

He... looked...

Over there.

On the gravel, next to a rusted piece of rebar.

...That was...

That was... his hand.

His forearm.

It was just... on the ground.

Ten feet away.

...

He...

He looked back.

At the... stump.

The sword...

The...

He...

His knees quit under him, Zain hitting the floor as his body gave way, all the heat inside him burning away to embers. Hands — hand — hit the gravel, pebbles cutting into his palm and mixing with the blood. Rebar scratched his wrist as he pulled himself forward because forward existed and everything else could shut up. F-fuck… Blood came out with his pulse; he could feel the timing; a rude squirt with every thump of his heart; warm then cold as air stole heat.

He could feel it... gushing.

Thump-squirt. Thump-squirt.

He was... dying.

And more ninja… they were... still coming.

Surrounding him.

The broken-wrist one limped ahead, red blade back between his teeth, mask torn and eyes wild.

This is it. This is how I go out.

Expendable.

Zain snorted, another laugh half-manic and half-tired spilling out of him as he pushed himself to sit up and grin again, a grin he actually kinda felt. “Y’all… y-y’all out of your fucking ninja minds’ if you think I’m g-gonna beg?”

It didn’t matter whether or not he was gonna beg, anyway.

Something didn’t even give him the chance as the ground jumped, concrete cracking as something slammed into it with the force of a speeding car. 

The circle broke apart on reflex, a dozen more ninja jumping back as someone stood up in the middle of all of them.

White. That’s all Zain could see.

A man in white, eyes glowing even brighter than the rest of him as he stood there with his arms up and ready for a fight.

…huh?

A second look didn’t make it any less confusing.

Bandages hugged the body, wrapping around and over until it formed what looked like some kind of suit, all blank, all white, all clean; a white cloak flaring behind them and a white hood up over his head.

The leader hissed something, spitting the blade out.

The ninja charged the new guy.

The new guy... moved.

He was... gone.

He was brutal.

He hit like a truck.

One ninja exploded backward, caving in the side of the construction trailer, metal screaming as he hit the thing so hard it crumpled.

The second one barely even got the chance to turn around to see his friend, before his neck spun the wrong way. He never even saw what hit him, no sound leaving his twisted throat, before he slumped to the ground. 

All of them rushed the man in white, their numbers working for them for a split second until he moved again. White blurred through them, each impact louder, heavier, human meat giving way to superhuman power. Elbows dropped like anvils, knees like sledgehammers; bones breaking in time with heartbeats.

Zain watched through a haze, gray creeping in at the edges as his breath came in bursts of fog.

He's... he's so fast. Stronger. Way, way stronger.

He looked at the white figure ... the moon right behind him… as he jumped back into the fight.

"...who the f-fuck?"