[h1][b][u][color=82ca9d]Bang Constantine[/color][/u][/b][/h1]
When an explosion erupted, it was then that Bang thought, [i]Someone's interrupting detention.[/i]

Bang sort of followed anyone he thought to be less of an ass to the detention room. He eventually ended up kneeling behind Sasuke Kojima, his expression remaining idle as he watched Sasuke twitch around like a freaky android.

[i][color=82ca9d]This man...[/color][/i] Bang thought. [i][color=82ca9d]I presume that he's good at this kind of stuff because he drinks milk.[/color]

[sub][color=82ca9d]Clever bastard.[/color][/sub][/i]

[hr]

[h1][b][u]Cain End'rana[/u][/b][/h1]

[hider=Skinhead Battle][i]Several days ago…[/i]
 
A variety of thoughts could arise from watching the world burn. Those who simply desired the destruction of something alive were psychopathically honest to their inner instincts, and those who thought the exact opposite were either honest in a different way or skilled at lying to themselves. Anyone did not mind watching others go through certain extents of pain, though the extents certainly varied between people.
 
Cain End’rana had lost the ability to enjoy his own destructive nature, for he had become far too busy to become well-acquainted with his own emotions.
 
Perhaps it was when he saw the man who tore the flesh of his own kind as a trophy that he stopped caring. His faith in humanity dwindled, and he viewed many of them as nothing more than piles of flesh. He himself no longer felt human; he just felt like a survivor, waiting for the end of his almost meaningless journey of seeking the obligatory destruction of an unknown entity.
 
What made him different from most scum was how he still had a smidgeon of hope in him.
 
With that said, the man had been walking down a street with his hood over his head. A beeping noise emitted from a small transmitter placed by his ear. Cain quickly pressed on the transmitter as he continued walking.
 
[b][i]”Cain,[/i][/b] the voice said. [b][i]”Clowns at your seven. There’s a fairly large group of them not too far from the abandoned perfume shop. They’re right now heading to the alley.”[/i][/b]
 
The dark-haired plasma user grumbled as he turned and started walking away from his initial direction.
 
There were many kinds of people. “Scum” was a kind that had no real reason to exist.
 
With dead silence, the dark-haired man arrived at the location his brother informed him of. Several people roamed around the streets under the moonlight. He in particular hated dealing with the people he was about to get rid of. Not only were they annoying, but their purpose was both humiliating and confusing to the face of mankind.
 
Anarchy.
 
It had been some time since he last faced the Clowns. They themselves had no names; they were anarchists who knew of no lines to never cross over. They strived in the worst path of greed. And in times of strife, they grew in numbers. There was no end to the amount of Clowns that pestered him. He’d think that he slew enough, only to have more of them return to bother him.
 
Stepping into the alley the clowns were last located at, Cain End’rana saw a closed trapdoor at the very corner of the dark area. Clowns did not usually loiter around the public for that long unless they were given some sort of mission. Who assigned them missions, he did not know. Not even the Yakuza, whom he saw negotiating with some of the Clowns, were able to properly convince them to do anything properly without risking some sort of price to pay. They were like cockroaches- except they were even worse than cockroaches.
 
The man took a deep breath before tearing open the trapdoor, knowing what was to come. If he succeeded, another hideout of the Clowns would remain empty for the time being.
 
Darkness enveloped his body as he traversed down what lay within the trapdoor. Having shut the door, light no longer aided him. Only the dim, red light from a small ball of plasma showed his way down a steep flight of stairs. Clown hideouts varied in terms of structures; some were located sky-high and had every Clown in a single large room, while some hideouts were deep underground. What Cain dreaded was the hideouts located underground, for not only did the Clowns have more of an advantage in the dark, but he also knew that the hideout would be large enough for them to drag out battles. It was both a tedious and frightening experience.
 
A straight five minutes of walking down stairs eventually led Cain down to the last step. A small lightbulb hanging at the center of the room revealed its contents.
 
A steel door lay open in front of him, resting silently in a cube-shaped room made of dirt-covered concrete. He found it strange that a splash of what appeared to be asphalt lay at the side of the room. The man daringly walked up to the steel door, kicking it open.
 
The next room made him hate Clowns even further.
 
It was a large, flat room with several lights dimly lighting the place up. He was unable to see the walls of the vast area, and several boxes lay scattered about. Some of them were filled with drugs, some of them were loaded with illegalized weapons.
 
Some of them had flaps of human flesh filling them completely.
 
The dark-haired plasma user squinted his eyes at the multiple figures that lay hanging from the ceiling. He then realized that the figures were people hung upside down, their heads chopped off roughly. The handiwork of the decapitations showed that whoever did the job was inexperienced, prolonging the entire process of death. Dried blood lay splattered underneath each corpse that had its feet hung onto the ceiling.
 
Also, there was a welcome mat made of peeled skin at the entrance. Disgusted, the man grumbled as he kicked away the ominous gathering of empty human faces.
 
[i]Skinhead Clowns,[/i] he thought angrily.
 
Clowns were divided into multiple categories. There were three kinds of Clowns he faced often, and one kind of clown he never really met commonly. The first kind of common Clown he met was the Smiley Clowns. They were yellow or blue smiley masks depending on their relationship with other Clowns. Most often seen with weak close-range weapons and somewhat useful firearms, the Smiley Clowns were not the most skilled fighters, but they were certainly skilled at persuasion of the people they snatch up from the streets. They were only one of the reasons why the amount of Clowns remained so abundant.
 
The second kind of Clowns he faced were the Child Clowns. Child Clowns were not actually children, but grown men masked with pitch-white or pitch-black plastic baby face masks. Most of these men were pedophiles and usually delivered the worst deeds to the children they snatched. Fortunately enough, at one point, Cain became enraged when he witnessed one of them about to defile a small girl and slaughtered hundreds of these Clowns. Unfortunately for him, Child Clowns were constantly filled with members due to the Yellow Smiley Clowns. They were usually armed with diverse weapons, but were only strong in terms of quantity.
 
The third kind of Clowns he faced were the Parade Clowns. They were not as common as Child or Smiley Clowns, but they were actually efficient in public areas. Mostly seen in circuses or amusement parks, the Parade Clowns were dressed up with different kinds of outfits that made it hard to notice them at first. As soon as they found a chance to deliver their code of anarchy, however, they would snatch a woman or man and sell them to some sort of slave trade system. Cain did not know how these trade systems actually worked, but he knew that some of them were actually linked to the organizations he was hunting for. He had only destroyed two systems, one of them being a sex slave trade while the other being a trade system that drove helpless Espers into being used as entertainment for unknown individuals. Since they were quite hard to spot in the public, Cain usually had his brother actually follow him to detect possible Parade Clowns. Very rarely did he ever think about risking his brother in getting caught by one while his back was turned, however.
 
The final kind of Clowns he met were the Skinhead Clowns.
 
The Skinheads were basically able to do everything the three commonly seen Clowns were able to do. Not only were they clever, but they actually had power. They were able to outsmart many Anti-Skill officers by forging the most convincing of evidence, and some of them were even able to serve as witnesses with false testimonies to get Clowns suspected of crimes out of their troubled positions. They also had apparent knowledge on memorizing whoever dares to attack the Clowns, for at one point, Cain faced several Skinhead Clowns who had found a way to resist being thrown around by his Plasma Manipulation power. Only when he sliced through them with his End’rana Gauge did they surely die.
 
Skinheads’ most iconic form of identification were the masks of human flesh they wore. They wore layers of skins. The more pieces of flesh they covered themselves with, the more signs of experience they showed. However, not all skilled Skinheads wore multiple layers of skin, making it hard to know how experienced his opponents were. Some of them even placed layers of others’ teeth in front of their own, making them look like they had four sets of teeth.
 
He hated facing the Skinheads, not only because they were clever, but because they were one of the most threatening criminals to ever lurk within Academy City. Even if they were not as common as the other Clowns, they had a numerous amount of Skinheads from what he learned in his battles.
 
Taking several steps deeper into the room, Cain held his breath as he generated his End’rana Gauge.
 
No Clown showed up yet.
 
The transmitter attached to his ear had its connection cut off. His brother would not be able to help him.
 
His eyes darted around, his adrenaline slowly hastening its pace. Blood flowed furiously through his body, and he felt the urge to start convulsing. They were around. He knew.
 
The Clowns never made a sound until they attacked, after all.
 
Then, the inevitable happened.
 
Bursting out of a wall to his right, a large Humvee with ten chainsaws attached to its front zoomed straight towards Cain. The dark-haired plasma user felt his eyes widen as he leapt to his side, barely dodging the armed vehicle. Even though he dodged, however, he felt something powerful strike his back, causing him to land face-first.
 
Quickly standing up, Cain reached for his back, only to take out a bloody knife from his body. Three sources of laughter caused him to look up.
 
There they were in all of their horrible glory. A man who wore a shirt made of tattooed skins stood up from the driver’s seat as he laughed with his arms raised. His comrades giggled and snickered and playfully punched at each other’s shoulders. Hanging right above the Humvee’s tires were fingernails that acted as bone decorations, and the carlights were ironically covered with skinned eyes.
 
“[b]WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HAHA![/b]” The Skinhead who wore the tattooed-skin shirt laughed as he pointed at Cain. “Well, well; welcome, welcome, Small Pachamama. What might you be doing here, you ol’ fool?”
 
Cain gritted his teeth as he raised his End’rana Gauge by his side. The Clowns were far peskier to deal with than the organization’s men. At least the enemies from the organization had some form of class.
 
“Aw; he’s pussying out. Lil’ fuckballs got no courage!” The Skinhead exclaimed, causing an eruption of laughter to echo from the walls around Cain. The plasma fugitive’s head darted around, knowing that there were probably far more Clowns waiting in the darkness around him. The dim lights were the only things preventing him from wasting his powers as a bright source of light instead of focusing on combatting the Skinheads.
 
Eying Cain up-and-down, the Skinhead who stood on his Humvee sighed as a look of bliss entered his face.
 
“Oh yeah, man,” the man said as he slowly sat back on his Humvee. “You’re the one who took out Guilte Elliot. My brother from another bitch. I don’t really care about that, though…”
 
Revving up the Humvee once more, the man laughed maniacally in unison with his comrades as he screeched. Sending the vehicle straight towards Cain as one of his comrades took out a nail-covered baseball bat, the man roared,
 
“LIBERZES! LET’S PARTY ROCK. FUCKING. HARRRRRRRRRRRRRD!!! AW, HEEHEHE YEYEEAHYAHHAHAHAHA!!!!! WOOOOOOOOO!!!!


"D̦̭̫̙̯͇̉͒I̩̝ͧͨͤͧ̎̌E͉̬̥͓̤͍̣ͥ̇̃E͙͚̖̬̾̅̆̊͡Ẹ̯͉̫̪̖̊͐̓̊͢ͅÈͧ̏̽̐̍ͤ͘E̙̓̐EͩͨE̻̜̖ͥ̾̍̎̌̀E̵̖̰̱̣̗͚ͬͦ̈́̊̏ͯ̚!̷̻͇!͍̯͍̪͎̲̉͝!͙̯̹͔̞͈͑̑ͭ!̞̜͉̠͎̌͛̄!̢̫ͫ̈́!͙̘͙̻͎̻͍͆ͯ̎͝”

 
Cain clenched his blade as he ran up towards the vehicle. Leaping up in the air, the man swung his blade at the Skinhead carrying the spiky baseball bat, causing the entire torso of the man to fly into the air and hit one of the corpses hung on the ceiling. As he landed, Cain twisted his body and raised a hand, launching a tendril of plasma at the man who accompanied the driver.
 
The tendril pierced through the man’s skull. When Cain pulled away the tendril, a fair chunk of the head’s contents spilled over his comrade, who moaned at the scent of blood.
 
Right then, a group of Clowns burst out of the shadows with deadly weapons in their hands. Some carried chainsaws, some carried broomsticks with electrified machetes; some carried miniguns and some carried lofty amounts of Japanese torture devices. It was a painting of chaos.
 
A painting of anarchy.
 
Forming a powerful barrier of plasma in front of him, Cain deflected streaks of bullets that flew towards him. He then proceeded to fire small beams of plasma at the miniguns wielders one-by-one. As each gunner fell, however, another Clown would simply replace the gunner by dropping whatever he carried and picking the minigun up. The plasma wielder was soon forced to cause an eruption of plasma to spread throughout the room, causing the minigun wielders to drop their weapons out of the pressure.
 
With the armed gunners disarmed for a short amount of time. Cain ran over to a group of Skinheads and diced through them. He tore through several torsos, several pairs of arms, and a small portion of heads. The man was soon forced to sidestep away from a Skinhead who swung down a triple-concrete-saw-lance on where he once stood. Raising the End’rana Gauge, Cain chopped off the man’s hands before picking up the concrete saw weapon.
 
The man lifted the heavy object and threw it at two Skinhead gunners who stood close to each other, causing their stomachs to pour out crimson contents furiously. He soon diced through another Clown who attempted to vertically slice him in half with a chainsaw.
 
Right, left, right left; Cain zoomed around as quickly as his body could with a barrier of Red Mana to defend himself from the gunners who recovered. As he avoided the bullets and slowly got rid of the minigun wielders, however, he was barely able to see one of the Skinheads blasting a naked woman’s corpse at his face with a modified leafblower.
 
[i]Oh SHIT-[/i]
 
The End’rana found himself colliding against the corpse so hard, the corpse itself was blasted into large chunks as its remains flew past his body. Tumbling on the ground, the man made sure to keep his defense up as bullets threatened to tear through him. The Skinhead who blew the corpse at him prepared another corpse for the leafblower to fire.
 
They were using human bodies like cannon balls.
 
Picking himself up, Cain finally saw the end of the minigun wielders’ assault when their ammunition ran out. Almost right after their weapons began to click, the End’rana formed Red Mana around his feet and began to dash towards the now vulnerable gunners. He, however, was interrupted when the leafblower Skinhead suddenly predicted his path and blasted him with yet another corpse. Cain felt his body fly straight into a wall, crushing the corpse with his back.
 
One of the Skinheads laughed as he blindly swung the triple-concrete-saw-lance that had been thrown earlier at Cain. Raising his blade, Cain held the three saws from tearing through him with the End’rana Gauge before kicking the man’s stomach. He then sliced the man in vertical halves before zooming past the corpses with Red Mana formed around his feet, knocking over the remains that had yet to fall on its knees.
 
With swift brutality, Cain drove the End’rana Gauge into the leafblower Skinhead’s mouth, carrying the man all the way to the other side of the underground hideout. With the sword driven into the wall, Cain gathered a fair portion of plasma around his sword, causing the thing to erupt with red energy. The dark-haired Esper disregarded the fact that he was nearly covered in pure red.
 
Five more Skinheads left. Much to his annoyance, the leafblower that had been used against him apparently fractured one of his ribs. He still managed to heal a fair portion of his ribs by slaughtering more of the Clowns.
 
The End’rana Gauge in hand, Cain turned and saw two of the Skinheads charging towards him with five power drills attached to each broom. In their attempt to skewer him, however, the End’rana simply ducked before jumping up, letting his hands grab onto the fleshy chins of the Skinheads as he moved up in the air. He soon plummeted towards the ground, smashing the Skinheads’ heads against the ground. With the mens’ heads messily flattened in the dim hideout, Cain glared at the three remaining Skinheads, each who carried chainsaws.
 
He had no intentions on playing games with the diabolical Clowns. As soon as he charged towards the men, they charged towards him from the darkness. They separated from each other as soon as he approached them, allowing them to surround Cain with their weapons in hand. One of the men was the driver of the Humvee, which now lay crashed against a wall.
 
Cain formed a spherical barrier around himself as all three of the Skinheads attacked simultaneously, each of them attempting to chop apart a limb of their choice. Manipulating the barrier into the form of a shortsword carried in one of his free hands, Cain used the makeshift weapon and the End’rana Gauge to slice apart two of the men. He quickly turned to deflect the remaining Clown’s weapon, only to notice that Clown was right behind him.
 
Cain stepped away from the Clown as the chainsaw tore across his chest. With a large scar spread across his chest, Cain backed away from the Clown who once introduced Cain to a possible demise, who now only knew how to speak with laughter.
 
He decided to shut the man up for good.
 
Right when the Clown swung his weapon at Cain, the dark-haired Esper dashed towards the Clown, letting his shoulder collide against the Skinhead’s chest. Tearing away the chainsaw from the Skinhead’s grasp, Cain twisted his body around, his eyes filled with bloodlust and anger.
 
He soon drove the chainsaw into the man’s stomach, slowly pulling the weapon upwards as blood and organs spewed out like sashimi slices. The Skinhead laughed harder and harder as his end came closer, and he even managed to raise a fist in an attempt to punch Cain as the saw approached his neck.
 
Pulling the saw upwards, Cain finished the last of the Skinheads in the underground hideout. He did not bother with cleaning up the hideout, for it usually ended up containing even more Skinheads after a fair amount of time of being disregarded.
 
The man dropped the chainsaw as he took heavy breaths. He no longer had people to kill… meaning that he needed to get a first-aid kit as soon as possible. He also needed to leave the city before he was detected with blood all over him.

There was nothing left to see in the hideout.
 
Cain End’rana cursed under his breath as he hastily left one of the many Skinhead hideouts.[/hider]