Outnumbered, and Outgunned?(Geist)

"Hup. Hup. Hup."
CLANG.
THUD.
CRASH.

Victor rolled across a parked car and glanced behind him. There, about 30 feet back, were several Yakuza, still trailing him. He'd been running for about an hour, and they hadn't given up yet. Normally, he'd stop and fight, but in the middle of L.A., that was asking for trouble. So he was trying to either lose them, or lead them into a secluded space. So far, he hadn't been able to do either.

With a grunt, Victor turned back the way he had been running, and took off again. His eyes kept darting around, looking for something, anything... THERE! With a grin, the cyborg-assassin turned and ran towards a Dumpster set against a wall, under a fire escape. He took two steps, leapt into the air, landed on the Dumpster, and then sprang up, grabbing the ladder. He pulled himself up and began to climb, glancing down to see the Yakuza following him. He nodded to himself, and, once he was up the ladder, began to make his way up the stairs. He stopped near the top long enough to wrap a piece of steel cable around the bottom of one of the stair supports, and then darted up the rest of the way, to the roof of the building. He took three long steps away from the fire escape, and then turned to face it, raising his hands in a defensive posture.

He waited a few moments, and grinned at the sudden grunt, crash, and thud. Obviously, they hadn't seen the trip wire. The three came onto the rooftop, grim faced and pulling knives and collapsable batons from their clothing. All three of them faced Victor, and one of them pointed at him, before opening his mouth.

"Anata wa watashitachi no nochi ni kite wa ikenai, bugai-sha. Ima, watashitachi wa anata o koroshite, karasu ga tabe saseru tame ni anata o koko ni nokoshite oku tsumoridesu."

Victor chuckled softly and faced him.

"Hora, watashi no nochi ni anata ga tatta 3-ri ijō no anata to issho ni kite itara, watashi wa motto kandō surudeshou. Matawa, anata ga sorera no chīsana naifu to baton yori motto itai nanika o motte itanaraba. Anata no tsugi no jinseide wa, anatahadare to taiketsu shi, nani o tēburu ni motte iku ka ni tsuite motto kashikoku narudeshou," he replied. As he finished, he heard movement behind him. He turned, slightly, and let his head move as well. There, behind him. Six more Yakuza thugs. These ones had come through the door to the rooftop. And they had swords. Katanas. The assassin sighed softly, letting his head hang for a moment. Nine of them. All of them trained, too, if he was correct. Not an impossible fight, but not an easy one. Letting his head come back up, he nodded slightly, and faced the speaker again.

"Daijōbu sorede anata wa bakkuappu shita. Watashi wa mada anatagata zen'in kara tawagoto o uchi makasu tsumoridesu. Soshite watashi ga owatta toki, anata wa ken'in-ryoku de shibaraku sugosu koto ni narudeshou."

At his words, the Yakuza thugs let out shouts, and rushed him.

Victor has a storied relationship with the Yakuza. He remembered when they tried to come through to the states when he was young and the son of one of their more prominent members took an interest in him. It was a different time for sure, when his father approved of his choices but he didn’t like the guy from the word go. Was always the kind of person that talked about tradition and the boring things likely expected from a relationship. He dumped him not too long after that, which only managed to draw further ire onto himself but didn’t keep his ever charismatic father from closing a deal with them. If they were allies of his family, any operations they had in the states deserved to be smashed into as many bits as he could make.

He was supposed to be stopping what he assumed was a bog standard crime thing. As he had begun to call all things which involved crimes connected to his families ever growing criminal grasp. Drugs, human trafficking and even a little arms dealing were all on the table so he just grew to assume the worst for the situation. So he dressed for the job, in the same dark suit clinging to his features and podded with just enough armor to keep him from getting killed by some stray bullet. The skull shaped paint on the mask was just extra, something to add a little fear factor because it was good enough for the vigilantes in the comics.

Imagine his surprise when he moved into position to deal with the criminals that there is already a fire fight and those suited Yakuza shooting at someone else. Like someone was stealing his thunder which was way uncool on so many levels. ”Guess I wasn’t the only one targeting them,,” He muttered under his breath almost disappointed before switching to a tinge of excitement. That meant he didn’t have to deal with going through some methodical take out plan.  Honestly that shit just tired him out in the end and he assumed there was someone that could counter his own abilities someday because of how big the damn world was.

The fight had moved to a rooftop almost in fashion of Tarintino, katanas at the ready and one man againt...eight? No looked more like nine. He huffed, jumping from the roof and feeling the transition to smoke, hitting the ground and rapidly changing before rushing forward to where he saw the fight would start. Taking advantage of years of both parkour and working out to propel himself forward. Scaling a wall was much harder when the number of hand and footholds were lacking, though he managed without much of a ruckus compared to his targets. With fingers allowing him to hang from the edge of the roof, he took in a deep breath and pulled himself up.

His weight lessened once he came the cloud of smoke, rapidly slithering towards one of the men in the back, reforming and unsnapping the collapsing staff attached to his lower back. Quickly putting it together and bringing it across the back of one of their heads before taking a few steady jumps backwards with eyes all too focused. Contact lenses making them look artificial in hue and prepared for the response from anyone.

Victor met the three original Yakuza thugs mid-charge, his two knives coming out of hidden sheathes to meet their knives. He used his forearms to block the batons, and managed to kick one of the thugs in the stomach, before he dove to the side.

Rule 1: Never let them surround you, he thought to himself, as he was fully expecting the other 6 thugs to rush him from behind. He heard nothing, though, and risked a glance at them, only to see that they had turned to face a newcomer. Well, 5 of them had. One of them was lying, collapsed, with the new guy standing over him, a staff in hand.

"Stop standing around, and kill him!" called the lead thug. He turned his head to glance at the assassin. "Is this one yours, sneak? Well, it shows you have brains, at least, to have back-up waiting. But it won't help."

"He's not mine. I thought he might be yours, until I saw that he gave that one guy a good one," replied Victor, grinning slightly. He flexed his fingers around the knives, and brought them up in an X before him. "Glad he's here, though. Means I don't have to worry too much about getting jumped from behind," he continued. The Yakuza thug stared at him, hate fixing his face, before he pointed at both Victor, and the new guy.

"Kill them both! Neither of them makes it off this roof alive," he shouted, before rushing towards the assassin, his knife low, his baton high. His two friends did likewise, while the other five rushed the new guy, swords poised to strike. Victor grunted and turned to face his three opponents. The new guy was going to have to handle himself for the next 3 to 8 seconds.

The next several seconds passed by in a flash, as the three thugs rushed Victor again. His k-bar met the knife of the thug on the left, turning it aside and past him, causing the man to stumble. The karembit met the knife on the right, and pushed it down, towards the roof of the building. The third thug was a bit harder to deal with, as Victor only had the two hands. But he made it work, by lifting a foot, and kicking the man in the face. The thug grunted and fell backwards, blood gushing from his nose. Victor took the time to turn at the waist and bring his left elbow down and across the temple of the man to his right, dropping him to the ground with a sickening crunch.

Pushing off the man, Victor turned back to the left, this time bringing his right knee up and into the stomach of the man on his left, dropping him, gasping for air. Turning back to the middle thug, Victor brought his k-bar around just in time to lock guards with the thugs knife, and, with a twist of his wrist, sent the knife spinning away. As he did, he brought his other fist up and punched the thug square between the eyes. The man dropped, and Victor backed away from the three, letting his knives slide back into the sleeves of his coat and into their hidden sheathes there. He turned and darted towards the new comer and his 5 dance partners.

Well they were talking in English again, which meant he knew what was being said about the situation. Fingers gripped his batons, knuckles taut to the point of turning paler and preparing for what might seem like an assault on multiple angles from multiple armed men. He had trained through this scenario multiple times when his family was actually bothering with him. A disappointing example of humanity expected to be able to keep up with these giants that he called siblings. Even without thinking he did react to the blades which flashed through the air in slow motion for him. Well, maybe not slow but they weren’t something he couldn’t seen.

Instead of waiting he made his own moves. Stepping forward with the blades slipping through wisps of smoke instead of what was expected to be flesh. He allowed the power to flow through him and become the cloud of smoke which rushed past the men trying to gate him and quickly trying to reform. As swiftly as possible. As maneuver he had practiced by himself over and over until he was sure he could pull it off within a matter of less than a second. Dizzying for sure but nothing by any means impossible. It even surprised them to an extent, leaving him a small window to strike before they could react.

Which was where his weapons came into play. Materializing from the same smoke he had taken the form of only less than a moment ago, the batons struck out with lightning quickness. One of them taking the blunt weapon hard across the face and the other managing to bring their sword up at the last moment. Flesh and metal both letting out their own sounds when the impacts rang out. Without even wasting time and allowing the others to react properly he released a flurry of blows the best way his limbs could allow him, pushing a few back and allowing him to take a few steps back to create a little distance. So long as the man he seemed to be helping could take care of himself, then he should be able to do the same .

“The bastard can turn into smoke,” One of them cursed and he took that into account. Now they might actually start fighting smart and considering his power wasn’t the most…powerful of them that meant fighting smart as well. Now of all times he could have gone for some smoke pellets or whatever, though at the time his self proclaimed Oracle decided against something so themed. Would make him look silver aged he said as if that made him sound smart by any metric. Instead he took note of the four remaining that weren’t clutching a bleeding nose, and internally cursed his friend.

Without thinking he reacted when one of them took a step forward, rolling out what looked to be caltrops from his bag and reaching forward with another quick motion to pull a man onto them, yelling in pain from the sudden jabbing in their foot. This was followed by him taking a few more steps back, turning his brief attention towards the other conflict and making some distance from his own foes. They were after all the most immediate problem.

Victor darted forward, lowering his shoulder as he did. He caught one of the 5 remaining thugs square in the back, and brought him to the ground with a sickening crunch. The assassin rolled as he did, and came up on his feet. Using his momentum, he dashed between the Yakuza thugs and slid to a stop next to the smoke-guy. He turned and brought his hands up in a defensive posture.

"Hi. Thanks for showing up when you did. I thought I'd have to handle all these ass-holes myself," he stated, flashing a grin. His knives flashed into his hands again, and he lowered himself into a crouch. "When this is done, I'll buy you a drink," he finished, as he brought one knife up, to catch a sword and send it sliding away. His other knife darted out and back. The tip came back red, and one of the thugs backed away for a moment.

Victor stared at the thugs, daring them to come at him.