"KANPAI!" The booming voice echoed into the streets from one of the many back alley dive bars among the seedy city streets. Moments later, a ruckus followed by guffawing laughter heralded the presence of the wandering ronin on the pitch black roadways. 

Voices trailed after him, and he chuckled, waving a hand at the entrance of the dive before stumbling a little, and turning to head out into the night. Muttering a song in his native tongue, the robed man stepped into the next alleyway, whistling a bit as he relieved himself in a back alley. A few shakes and tidying up and he was out onto one of the main thoroughfare. What time was it, now? He lazily dug for his phone, cursing under his breath as he realized it was fried. Away, it flew over his shoulder, clattering against the ground uselessly. 

Taking a deep breath of chilly air, he looked up at the moon, barely visible through the city skyline. 1am or so.

The Yakuza brawler in him was feeling frisky. Hnnnn, where could he find a good scuffle around here. The closest underground fighting ring was a good jaunt away. Too much work. Best to head to a seedier area and find some punks to tangle with. That had always been a safe bet in the past. Resting his wrist against the Saya of his blades, he wandered the streets looking for trouble. 

Would he find it, or would it find him?

“It's not unusual to be loved by anyone~~~~~
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone
But when I see you hanging about with anyone
It's not unusual to see me cry
Oh I wanna' die!
It's not unusual to go out at any time~
But when I see you out and about it's such a crime~
If you should ever want to be loved by anyone
It's not unusual
It happens every day!
No matter what you say
You find it happens all the time~~~~~
Love will never do what you want it to
Why can't this crazy love be—~”

The green man finished his set at the karaoke bar. His red-haired girlfriend, Kenzie, shot him a double thumbs up as he strolled back to the table with his cocky ‘yeah, I just did that’ walk.

As he sat down, she said: “That was only mildly awful, Ell. Good job!”

He eyed her, not without a hint of amusement. Darkly, he said “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Only cute?” She laughed.

“Fine. A knockout. Drop dead gorgeous. Stunning.” In her little black dress, she really was. Her hair was up in a messy swirl held together with chopsticks.

“You’re goddamn right,” she said. Channeling Heisenberg.

He wore a pair of nice blue jeans, a red sweater, and a black leather jacket over it. It was cold. Her big floofy coat was on the back of her chair behind her.

Elliott dropped his attention to the contents of the table, and took a drink of his Japanese beer. Kirin or something? He gave her time to herself, and her self satisfied look.

The night continued, as a heavyset man with short brown hair got up on stage and lit the night up with Sinatra’s What’s New, Pussycat?

“What's new, pussycat? Woah, woah!
What's new, pussycat? Woah, woah, woah
Pussycat, pussycat, I've got flowers~
And lots of hours to spend with you
So go and powder your cute little pussycat nose.”~~~~~~

—

The clock read around 1:00. It had been a good night. Good food, good drink, good fun. Elliott lead Kenzie back to her car.

She had a car. He had a motorcycle. It was cold enough, having a heater was preferable to windburn.

Just as he was shutting the drivers side door for her, he heard a boom in the not too far distance. A car alarm wailed through the night.

Elliott gave her a significant look. She sighed, but she was smiling.

”Okay,” Kenzie said. “Helmets in the trunk. Go get em, Tiger.”

The trunk popped open. Moments later, he’d slipped into his shin guards and donned the leather jacket from the trunk. The one with armor strike plates slipped into key locations. As he stepped away from her, he slipped on a simple black motorcycle helmet with a macabre maw painted on it. Looked like a ravenous mouth full of jagged teeth, with a lolling tongue coming out one side. A too-long tongue. The visor was tinted, so nobody could see his eyes. He finished by slipping off his shoes, and sliding his fingerless black gloves onto his hands.

They were parked out of the way of any sight lines, on the street. No cameras would catch the costume change.

He leaped onto the side of the nearest building and ran. Up. Up and over, towards the sound of the car alarm.

What the hell had caused that big boom?

What sort of trouble could someone get into in down town New York City at 1am? Oh, all sorts. Just not this second, apparently. Raijin's expression was beginning to sour.

That is... Until he heard a big boom. Intense eyes shot toward the sound as he turned toward it. Further down town. The car alarm accompanying made it easier to zero in on the exact direction. With nothing better to do, he headed that way.

______

"WOOOOOO! Yeah!" The voice of a young man yelled out as he Nitefort danced around in place before stepping back to view his handiwork. Look at that! This M stuff sure was neat! One pill, and he could make walls explode! It had been a bit louder than he'd thought, but he sure didn't mind that little side effect; not when it came along with opening up the side of the bank vault he'd been trying to break in to!

He cackled as he whooped a few more times, and headed into the open side of the bank to gather his loot.

"Ohhh man! The guys are gonna freak when they see this! What do I call myself... THE WALLENATOR! no- THE DEBARIERATER! No... The Nice-Aid Man! YEAHH! He'd always busting through walls!" You know, Nice-aid... The fun punch powder drink with 69 ingredients!

It wasn't long before the Nice-Aid Man, NYC's newest villain, walked out of the bank with a comically large money bag.

______

"Hmmmmmmm?" The humm of the questioning sound came from his mouth as he stepped to the mouth of an alley in order to see the silhouette of the younger man outside of the bank. Had he opened that wall up like that? Teeth gritted together with excitement. It had been a while since he'd encountered a worthy opponent. Could this be another?

He took a step toward the bank, and his newest prey.

Raijin took a step towards his nearest prey, aaaand—

Someone in a leather jacket, with visible green skin on his feet and parts of his hands blurred onto the scene. He leaped down from an upper level somewhere above the man, but to the casual observer, he almost flew.

If he’d had it his way, Cheshire would have flew in to kick the bank robber in the side and send him tumbling. But the robber was in the bank. So he landed outside the building, and ran towards the danger.

What kind of mutant blows up the side of a building? That car alarm was still crying. That meant it was probably something that sent out shockwaves. Sonic, maybe? Or a very big kinetic concussive blast. He would find out soon enough.

—

Soon enough was about two seconds later.

“Hey man,” he waved at the guy. The man looked strung out. He was about fifteen feet away. He spun and dropped the sack of money he was holding.

“Who dares challenge me, the might Nice-Aid man?” He bellowed.

Elliott stared at him, hands on hips. “Yeeeeah. Guys?” He glanced at the very visible security camera. “I’m not feeling the name. This nothing doesn’t deserve such a disaster of a name. So anyways, here’s Wonder Wall.”

“WHAT?!” Wonder wall screamed.

Cheshire threw a long black drubbing stick at the man’s head. Whoosh whoosh whoosh, it spun through the air.

Whomp!

It hit the guy square in the temple. He staggered back, clutching his head.

“Owie...” He moaned.

There was the sound of footsteps rushing by him as the smiling vigilante swept by to scoop up his club. He stopped, turned, and got ready to throw again.

In his mind, he'd mulled over countless scenarios, possibilities. A deadly touch? Perhaps short ranged projectiles that really packed a punch? Telekinetic waves?

All of the potential skillsets he could encounter in this foe had him ready to pounce imediately. Unfortunately, someone else pounced first, and pounce they very much did. Raijin's serious expression turned into a grin as someone fell from the sky, Or rather, flew?

Either way, he fell some distance and landed as if it weren't an issue, and followed the bank robber in confidently. Another hunter was on the scene. Raijin hurried further, fueled by his drive for a real challenge; after all, hunters made the best prey. He had to catch him while he was still inside, if he was a flier; he didn't want his newest prey escaping into the sky, after all.

----

The Nice-Aid Man, or rather Wonder Wall, wasn't very happy with getting a big ol stick thrown at his head. He would make the strange green man pay! He hurried toward the nearest wall to touch it and do... something?

He wasn't sure. He was less sure what he would do when he saw his arm fall from his elbow while he reached. What? Why was the room suddenly flipping around all funn-

By the time Cheshire turned to throw, Wonder Wall's head hit the ground. Raijin stepped back from his victim, taken apart with two clean swipes of his Katana, and turned to face the green man.

"Good, you are ready for combat. Fight with all your might, Midori No Akuma- San." The short sword slid from its sheath, and with a crackling, its tip lit up with electricity. Quickly, the sparking blade was used to draw out a well practiced sigil in the air, leaving it lingering there.

"One of us dies today."

What, the hell?

Elliott paused as his brain did a quick reboot. He’d lost it for a second, when he turned and saw the new corpse. He had went all Christopher Walken there, for a minute. Words, jerky, as he’d tried to go through the verbiage to explain what, why?

“How, do you do?” He said. Aw, hell. In for a penny, in for a pounding. He continued the Walken impression, but this time, out loud.

Had the man called him mr green demon in Japanese? How overblown affected can one get? Says the man in the costume. Least he wasn’t head to ass in a red jumpsuit, or painted with spiderwebs on his skivvies. And he didn’t having a sparking katana. He pocketed his sticks.

Again, he repeated the question. what, the hell?

“Do you, see this guy?” He asked the security camera. “He, straight up butchered that guy. You all saw that, right? It—“

On the word it, his focus snapped away from the camera to land on a gold brick that had just been sitting there. On top of a pallet of other gold bricks. Long pink tongues shot forth from the slits in the palms of his fingerless black gloves. Slits cut for just such a situation. The two tongues lanced out in unison to wrap around the brick. Once, twice. His voice deepened as he picked it up, and huuuurlred it.

”—was NOT ME!!” He finished, in a shout.

The brick sailed towards Senor katana, and as it did, Elliott sprang backwards, to plant both feet on the bank vault’s back wall. Then, he did a quick about-face, and skittered up and over, to the ceiling. He channeled Curly of the three stooges, as he ran across the ceiling, going “Nyuk nyuk nyuk!” The dangling hand-tongues slurped up into his hand mouths like floppy twin noodles as he went.

Right as he reached the place on the ceiling directly above the man, he halted. Fumbled with something in his pockets.

“Take! THIS! Ichiban Gijutsu, school of the undefeated of Texas!! Gribble-Sensei no pocketo SANDO!! Sha sha sha sha!”

He dumped a little baggie of sand on static samurais head, then ran like hell towards the exit.

He was still on the ceiling. The helmet was smiling. He was not.

Raijin had no idea who Christopher Walken was. He stared quietly as the man turned toward a bnearby security camera and started talking as if he had an audience.

No one was going to see those tapes. For now, though, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fight in front of him. The Ronin placed the tip of his sword on the shield crest, and readied himself. His weight shifted to the balls of his feet as the green demon hurried to go pick up a random brick of gold. With his hand tongues. There was a lot to unpack here.

This place had a pallet of gold bricks in it? Jesus, that had to be some sort of shady business. Was this a Mob-run bank? The average bank didn't have bars of gold laying around, for sure.

Also. Hand Tongues. He wanted to cut them. They looked so cuttable. The Gold bar was sent sailing his way, and considering a gold bar weighed around 25 pounds, it was quite a feat to fling it his way. Also, easy enough to sidestep by a skilled martial opponent such as himself. "Akuma-San! You will have to strike with more conviction if you want to make it out of this... alive!"

Midori no Akuma was already moving up the wall, displaying another of his skills. Amazing. He was going to run up the wall and fling himself down at him! Yes! He bared his teeth in excitement as his opponent made his way above, shifting his golden crest above his head to prepare for the incoming attack!

Which was sand. His excited expression shifted to confusion to anger as the sand particles gathered on the solid barrier of magic. "Trickery!"

He notices the man's goal as soon as he started making his way toward the destroyed wall. "KSUH!" He curse as he darted forward, albeit a little slower than the rather fast green man. He would resort to flinging his wakizashi with the barrier still at its tip, in the way of the exit. Once the crest stopped in place, the blade clattered to the floor.

"Find your death with pride!" He was down one sword, but that didn't bother him too much. Both hands gripped the katana as he began to draw out another barrier.

Annoying, oh so annoying~

This man kept getting in his way. He tried to dump sand in his face, he shielded against it, tried to escape, and the exit was blocked. Had a damned sword which made any thought of getting close laughable at worst, and suicide at best. Plus, he’d killed someone and they were in a bank vault. The police were on their way. He had to be reasonable here, and he really did not want a fight.

The guy had thrown a mid-length sword, which Elliott evaded with a quick side hop . And the crackling energy shield hung in place in the blasted entryway.

Crazy sword man still had a sword, and was doing something funky. So, Elliott plopped to the ground and started throwing things at him.

There was plenty of debris, from the blast earlier. He had ammunition to spare. He threw about three small chunks in quick succession, then turned and lobbed a medium-sized hunk at the barrier in the doorway. One hit, and it was dispelled with a quick burst of electricity.

He was not going to touch those...

As he ran away from the swordsman, into the doorway, he contemplated scooping up the wakizashi and holding onto it for safekeeping. But it was entirely possible the psychopath had booby trapped his blade. Instead, Cheshire hauled back his foot and kicked the handle of the sword to send it spinning 100 feet into the distance. Then, out the blasted hole, he went.