"I need you to do something for me." Mr. Fisk sat low in his chair and spoke into the speaker of his telephone, smoking his cigar and puffing small circles of smoke. He raised an eyebrow as the television across from him showed the decimation of Northside. "We are so close to...owning this city. I haven't seen a Bat in the sky since a month or two ago," he bragged but kept it under a mask of humility, inhaling more of the bitter fumes and letting out a small cough. "But some of these remaining...vigilantes are causing trouble. We need to nip this in the bud. We need you to end the trail." There was a long pause before the woman on the other line parted her lips to speak. "Do not worry Mr. Fisk. My part is done. All we must do now is wait...wait for them to spring the trap." Her voice was soft and nearly playful as she let out a small chuckle, the phone hanging up almost right after. Fisk let out a sigh and leaned back against the body of the chair. He hated working with lunatics. They were too complicated, whereas normal men were simple. Easy to learn. Easy to control. However, he often found that the insanity also brought a level of skill that made them invaluable to him. They had the power to break his enemy piece by piece, and he would never live without that power. So he sat in his chair, looking out his long windows as the north side of New Gotham sank to the ground, hiding itself in a beautiful, powerful cloud of ash and broken brick. "The work that maniacs can do..." he said quietly to himself, shaking his head. Whoever that was, they had an endgame, and Fisk shivered (slightly, of course) at how this might end.
***
Moon Knight pushed the door open slowly, looking past it to confirm that no one was waiting, not that it mattered. It was a long, narrow staircase that led downwards, to the main building. Spector walked forward, then made his way down, hearing a slight *creak* every time his foot touched a wooden stair. His gaze narrowed as he heard screams, accompanied by the occasional crack of a whip. The sounds were muffled by the door below, as well as the concrete walls, but he knew everything about what was happening here. There was no doubt in his mind that they were laughing, letting their passion for suffering drown out any remote idea of a "good heart" or "kindness." For these men, there was no such thing. With every crack of the whip on bare skin, they'd only want more. It only made Spector angry. In that moment, his only desire was for them to lose every drop of blood they drew from someone else. He longed for them to understand every level of pain they would ever think of inflicting. He clenched his fist and let out a vicious scream as he kicked the door off the hinges, letting it crash to the ground two stories below. He stood on the balcony, overlooking the cowards below with a rage filled glance. Their grins slowly faded away as the gang members turned their heads to see Spector, his white suit standing out in the dimly lit expansive space. They moved away from the naked woman, her arms chained to the back wall. She hung her head as the sweat mixed with blood dropped from her body to the stone floor. The Moon Knight was there for vengeance.
All the men reached for their guns from the holsters, their hands shaking as they took aim on the white figure. Spector turned to his left and took to a sprint as a line of bullets followed his trail. His cape dashed behind him as he glanced down to his targets. Six men, armed with their pistols (as discussed earlier) and a female hostage up against the wall. Most men would do their planning beforehand, taking time to lay out every detail of their precise attack. That...was boring. The trail of gunfire slowly gained on Spector, coming right behind the arc of his neck. He took three moon discs between his fingers and flicked his wrist, releasing them to cut through the air. They swirled through the room, curving in their path. They pierced into the gun-hands of every thug below, three screaming and the rest breathing heavy, attempting to manage their pain (Wish them luck). A second was all that he needed. Spector turned, planting his right hand on the balcony railing. He swung his legs over and let go of the rusted bar, dropping onto the ground level. He brought a punch to the forehead of the largest man as he landed, knocking him down. He rolled and dropped three pellets as he came up, filling the space with a thick gray smoke. The other gang-men looked around in panic and confusion as they slowly lost their vision. The Moon Knight cracked his knuckles and grinned under his white mask. This was when the fun began.
What followed was simply a blur. Spector released his fury, his fists slamming into jaws and ribs, covered by the screen of smoke. Bullets shot wildly in the air and the sound of the gunfire echoed through the room, almost as loud as the sound of bone snapping under Spector's rage-filled filled blow. He whipped his leg around, hitting a gang-man with a roundhouse kick to the side of his face. Out the corner of his eye, he saw another, coming in fast for a blow. He had enough time to counter, or dodge or block. However, he took the blow, rolling his head with the punch as a satisfactory look came on the man's face. Spector turned to him, cracked his neck from side to side, an brought an uppercut to his gut, lifting him off the ground a little. The man fell to his knees. The smoke completely cleared and the Moon Knight stood over the six unconscious bodies, groaning and turning on the stone floor.
"How does it feel to be broken?" He asked in the open space, pausing, as if he was waiting for an answer. He grinned a bit and continued on his way. He stepped over bodies and stood in front of the woman, seeing the red, narrow scars and purple lumps of bruises paint her soft, yellowed skin. He kneeled down to her level, cutting the steel chains with a moon-disc. "You're safe now," he said, freeing her right wrist and moving to her left. "There's a shelter on 45th and 10th. Take the main road. It's got lights..." Cut the left chain and the woman massaged her wrist. She parted her lips to speak as she struggled to stand. "N-no..." She said, her jaw still a tad unhinged from the men's treatment. "I-I must f-igh-t...too m-much at sta-ke..." Spector's eyes widened and he gave a confused look under his mask. "...Who the hell're you?"
"I-I am Tats-u Yamash-iro...and I need my sword..."
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