LOCATION || Belltown, Seattle, WA — Piers (between 3 and 4am)
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They thought me to be weak. They came into my gym - my save haven for those who cannot defend themselves, asking for a fraction (as they called it) of my earnings. A protection fee, but everyone knew what it was. Deep down in our souls, we all knew they are thugs.
For hours, under the veil of darkness and the half moon that was out with the other half hidden by clouds, the streets of the Belltown neighborhood of Seattle were filled with filth, the scum that attacked innocents. They attacked and robbed and assaulted anyone who came down the wrong corner. An old man on his way home from the late shift he was pulling at a mini-mart, a woman who was out for a walk after seemingly having a fight with her husband, and the boy who was no older than fifteen staying out late because there was a party by the pier.
They all were attacked by the same bunch of thugs. The same thugs that were causing havoc within Belltown. The same group of five that tried to shake down Johan Merkal for money under the guise of protection.For weeks they operated in this section of Seattle But tonight would be when they came face to face with the only justice that ever got things done in Belltown. Tonight they come face to face with the Blue Crusader.
“Johnny, this isn’t the shipment we talked about. It was supposed to be 90% pure, this is only 87% purity.”
A group of five men, all wearing variations of jeans, dark shirt, and leather jackets that were varying shades of browns and blacks, stood in front of three crates, the contents of which were unknown, but it was clear it was something illegal. They were all of Italian or Greek ethnicity, each having their own distinctive hairstyle. One had spiked hair, one with oiled hair and pulled black, another had a ponytail, while another had long hair but left it down. The last one, which the Crusader assumed was the leader, had short hair. It was a buzzcut and a scar on his left cheek that ran from the middle of the nose to the ear.
“What do you want me to do, Sal? Our guy got it wrong.”
“Our guy got it wrong? Sal looked at Johnny and slapped him with a crisp backhand. In the cold that would sting more and Johnny was sent to the ground. The force of that slap was enough to floor him.
“Sal what the hell!?” One of the goons said out of the sudden shock.
“We have enough problems. We need to make more money. That idiot from the dojo or whatever the hell it was, that money was going to help us. I don’t care how much he claimed he didn’t have. You don’t have a place named ‘Become Mighty’ if you weren’t loaded.”
The Crusader felt his temper boil. A storm brewing inside his blue eyes as he watched them from the top of a building, crouched and looking at all five of them. He observed them. The Crusader wore dark colored pants that appeared black but was a shade of blue that blended into the darkness. Over his dark-colored shirt was a blue cloak with a hood that hid his face from view. It was the perfect cover.
As he watched them go back and forth about whatever was in the crate, deep inside The Crusader, that storm started to explode out. Patience was never a skill that he mastered and he punched the roof of the building he was on with his steel gauntlets. The sound echoed through the empty, quiet pier and the five men, startled by the sudden noise, jumped and all went into panic mode.
“What was that?” Johnny asked, looking around.
“Probably just some kid being stupid,” one of the men asnwered. The one with the ponytail. He was lax. He would be first.
“Tito, you’re stupid. That wasn’t some kid. Look at what time it is. That was something else. That was--”
“Boo.” The Crusader was behind Johnny and before he had time to react, he grabbed Johnny’s jacket, yanking it to him and with his free hand, which on both hands he wore steel gauntlets, he punched Johnny int he back of the head, sending him forward. The other four scattered, leaving the unconscious body of that worried Johnny to crash into the crate.
In his hooded outfit, he glared at all four men…well, three. Sal wasn’t phased in the slightest, but the other three stood, their legs shaking. ALmost like how all of those they attacked trembled whenever this gang of thugs terrorized Belltown.
“What’s wrong? Ever seen a hooded figure before?” He laughed as he lunged for Ponytail Goon. He was frozen but that didn’t mean the Crusader was. A hard knee made contact with the goon’s stomach and he grabbed his wrist, flipping him over his bod, slamming him hard into the ground back first.
“What are you standing for? Get him!” Sal ordered the other two as he grabbed a piece of the broken wooden crate. The other two did the same thign.
With a smirk, Thor raised up his fists. As a brawl kicked off, Thor held his own. Dodging swing after swing, blocking when he could, and hitting one and two of the goons with solid left and right hooks, but eventually their number advantage showed. Sal had gotten a cheapshot into Thor as part of the makeshift weapon had found its way into his right shoulder, Thor had to react accordingly, but more importantly, he had to end it quickly.
And then he was on the ground and they were kicking him and swinging those wooden 2x4’s over and over and over across Thor’s back. All the while he was channeling lightning into his left fist. In time’s past, as in before the fall, whenever he was in Midgard, there were limiters put on his powers, but it never had taken him this long. Thirty seconds was all he needed to charge it fully, but thirty seconds was too long. He had to make due with the ten seconds.
A third of the power but it’ll have to be enough, he thought, hoping for the best as he exploded up into a vertical base.
His glowing fist raised high as the electrically-charged hand of his not only broke through the broken pieces of wooden crate that Sal and his two goons were holding and using to hit Thor repeatedly, but there was a shockwave from the connection and it sent all three of them flying in the opposite direction. Sal and one of his goons crashed into a building nearby and the other found himself slamming back first into a metal guard rail.
The God of Thunder let out a victorious yell, looking around him. All five of those thugs were down for the count. They probably had several broken or bruised bones and maybe had double the amount of minor injuries, but what was most important, what Thor had accomplished, they would no longer be a problem in his neighborhood.
“Job is almost done, but one more thing.” Thor endured the pain in his shoulder and walked to Sal, who was struggling to stand up. Kneeling down, he yanked at Sal’s shirt. Sal had a bunch of cuts along his face and was only able to look out of one eye. “I will only tell you this one time: stay out of Belltown. If I ever see you here or hear of you harassing anyone, asking for protection fees, or anything like that, what happened tonight is only a small taste of what’s to come.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Thor smiled, though didn’t allow the thug named Sal see his face.
“Your worst nightmare.” As he said that, Thor punched Sal unconscious.
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Later in the day…
It wasn’t often that Thor felt sore all over his body. Typically, when he pulled the night shift as The Blue Crusader (the trendy nickname the media gave him), he was careful enough to where he didn’t injure himself too badly. As a weakened god, he could heal faster and endure immense amounts of physical pain, but taking a sharp piece of wood directly into the shoulder, no matter how much divine essence one had left in him since the fall, it was still going to hurt.
And boy did it ever. He didn’t see a doctor or go to an under-the-radar night nurse-type because he didn’t need to. The wound itself wasn’t deep, but to be safe, Thor cleaned it amd wrapped it up enough with some goss. It was sore and it hurt to move it too much, but it was the best he could do under such a short time. He had some painkillers left over from his last visit with a certain doctor. They might have been somewhat expired, but they were all he had.
And then when the time came to go to that luncheon that the Queen of the Greek Pantheon arranged came, though he was reluctant, Thor manned up. He showered, got
dressed, and hopped into his pickup. The drive to the Olympic Club wasn’t a long distance, but when Thor made it to the club, he found himself an isolated seat. He was sore and didn’t feel like socializing if he could help it. He recognized a lot of the deities around and knew a few of them on a friendly basis and some not so much.
So his preferred spot was a table in the back. That’s where he planned on staying until it was physically required that he be someplace else.
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