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Mixtape Ghost N
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Khan's vision spun. He spat blood from his mouth. The muscles along his back twanged and groaned. Lessons, he thought, as the faces of the entourage sparked with orange light. No, never very good at that either.
He ran a hand through his hair, taking a long, calming breath. Benny didn't like him getting into fights. Post-fight, lying bruised, drunk, and half-unconscious on the sidewalk, he usually wasn't a fan of them either. Another calming breath. Then, clenching his legs, another powerful, united pulse of his three hearts rocked Khan's body, and he shot forward like a cannonball, a wide, angry tackle aimed straight at the tall woman in the center of the group.
Yet, Ricochet leapt into the air, igniting her leg as she performed a side kick straight into Khan as he lunged towards Ivory.
The heel of her foot slammed into him at rocket-speed, and they went spinning sideways like an out of control helicopter, hanging in midair for a moment before crashing and sliding across the asphalt. It was the pointy figure with the mohawk who'd held him down earlier—she managed to land somewhat gracefully, but Khan, who'd fallen like a sack of marbles, grabbed her leg as he landed and yanked in blind anger.
Ricochet grunted as she was yanked to the floor. Babbling in some gibberish language, she ignited her leg, forcing Khan to cease contact.
The blast of heat forced him back, and he scrambled away, pulling himself upright. He could barely orient himself, the pounding rain made everything turn into shadowy streaks. There might've been a crowd watching, somewhere nearby, or maybe the streets were empty, or full of ghosts. You can't have a religion without a flood, some part of him thought mildly, as the rest of him swung thoughtless punches at what he thought to be the hooded entourage.
All five Pioneers ganged up on Khan, throwing random blows at him, or in Powersaw's case, viciously poking him. Ivory watched their assault, as the Frog man tried desperately to fight them all off. Ivory held up a single hand, forcing them all to stop and grab his different limbs, pinning them to the ground. Commando and Ricochet had grabbed his arms. Tortuga had pinned both of his legs down. Haunt held a poisoned claw right up against Khan's neck, daring him to budge. The center showman, Powersaw, stepped forward. One of his four blade-hands had begun rapidly spinning like a powersaw, with complementary ear-piercing screeching. Powersaw squatted down over Khan, holding his saw above his chest, yet not directy over. Ivory "stared" straight into Khan... Even though she had no eyes, much less a face. She said the simple command to the punk once more.
"Apologize".
He could barely hear her over the whine of the saw and the whistle of the wind, but it wasn't hard to get the gist of what she'd asked. Every time he gasped for cold, soaking breath, Khan felt something sharp dig up against his neck, just barely keeping from breaking the skin. Chest heaving, lungs straining. The sound that came in from all directions seemed to slowly flatten out Khan's anger, which melted out into the dirty Tokyo streets like watered down cheese. He looked up at her, the tall, silvery woman, then let his head fall back down onto the asphalt, with the air of someone falling into bed after a long day of work. What was he even angry about, earlier? Oh right. He was going to miss the press conference. Schmoozing with fighters and celebrities, a shining little ray of light full of promise and salvation.
Then, the calm that replaced his anger was, itself, replaced by a kind of cold panic. "Hey," he raised his head again, "I really have to be somewhere, somewhere really, important. Really, really important. I'm already late, so..."
"Then apologize".
Powersaw's saw lowered down slightly. Each of the Pioneers increased the pressure on holding his limbs, and Haunt marginally lowered her claw.
"If your actions have the potential to inconvenience, or even harm yourself, then you must learn how to apologize properly." Ivory scolded calmly.
"Jesus! What is with you? Just let me up, hey, hand to god I'll even sign something before I leave. That's like fifteen dollars on eBay, easy. I guess what I'm saying is I'll give you fifteen dollars to let me go. But I can't actually give you cash cash, I'm out, last night got really wild, but, uh—fuck, can you just—"
Just out of reach. If only he could get to the party, dance like a puppet on Benny's strings, oil the wheels of his new film with gossip and small talk with all the requisite celebrities. Everything he ever wanted, A second life with a better, happier Khan, just out of reach. How did life always find a way to sabotage him?
"What is so difficult about this? I do not want anything signed. I do not want monetary value. All. I want. Is an apology. Two, simple words. "I'm Sorry", and then I will let you be on your way to whatever trifling meeting you must attend to. Yet I, who is currently on an important assignment, cannot let you go, in good faith, without you learning the proper method to apologizing." Ivory's voice went from calm lecture, to that of a disapproving mother.
"I'm not sorry, at all, about anything," Khan hissed. And now, panic became anger again. He twisted his left hand into a hex sign, and with a crackle of dark sorcery the blood that had splattered everywhere in the struggle suddenly crackled and erupted from where it stained the bodies of his attackers. Enough of the hooded figures let go in the rush of violent magic and black smoke that Khan was able to wiggle free, and for a second he felt a vicious triumph at their pain and his momentary success. It didn't last long, however, as he locked eyes with the collapsed metal figure with the mohawk, lying in the rain. She had attacked him twice before and, as a reward for blood lost, taken the brunt of the damage.
"Shit," Khan dropped to her side, his anger apparently blown away by the weather. "Shit, sorry, are you alright?"
Tortuga rammed his shoulder into Khan, shoving him to the ground. Alongside him stood Powersaw, Commando and Haunt. Ivory walked in front of them, staring down at the yet-again fallen Khan.
"I believe my lesson is beginning to have progress, wouldn't you agree? You apologized to an individual, who is merely compelled to follow my orders". Ivory's face glew orange, along with the four remaining Symbiotes. Ricochets did, but she stood up, and sprinted behind Ivory.
"Now let's hear it for me".
Tortuga started marching directly towards Khan... At a pace that would make a snail look like The Flash, stomping along the ground the whole way. Haunt became invisible, likely moving into a strategic position, leaving only Powersaw and Commando to rush Khan. As they approached, Powersaw jabbed all six of his knives straight towards Khan, while Commando lunged forward, dishing out three blows to the ruffian.
Khan took all six knives to the torso, the impact knocking him back on his butt and just out of the way of the other hooded figure's blows. He let gravity take him and knock him on his butt, and from a seated position on the curb he slumped back to lie face up on the ground.
"No," he said again, vaguely in the direction of the pale metal woman. "Hit me some more if you want. I'm cool with that. But I'm not giving you anything."
Commando stepped in front of the fallen Khan. He threw a fist straight into his cheek. Then another. And another. Soon enough, he threw twenty punches straight at him.
Each punch landed one after the other, over and over, and it seemed like they would never stop. His body went bloody, and pain went running up and down his muscles, but no bruises seemed to form, and Khan appeared to otherwise shrug off the attacks. Eventually, the hooded figure stepped away and ended his assault. Keeping a sort of half-eye contact with the woman at the heart of the entourage, Khan said, "I think it's worth mentioning I'm pretty drunk right now. If that makes any of this more understandable."
"Then perhaps I shall continue your "lesson" until your body fully recognizes the threats at-- What is--"
Suddenly, the rain that was a harmless drizzle became an overwhelming downpour, accompanied by a wind powerful enough to slightly move Haunt along the street, who quickly planted his claws into the pavement in an attempt to hold still. Ivory held the skirt of her dress downwards, even though there was nothing to see. The communicator in Ivory's ear buzzed
"Ivory. The hell are you doing? Stop bugging this punk, and get to the stadium!"
Ivory glanced at Khan.
"We will resume tomorrow. Class has been dismissed."
Commando stood behind Tortuga, and bent over onto his arms. Ivory stepped onto his back, and climbed up Tortuga's shoulder. All of the Pioneers started running in the direction of the arena, leaving Khan beaten and bruised in the gutter. He struggled for a moment, disoriented from the sudden surge of rain, so much so that he barely noticed the woman and her entourage had hurried off. "What the—"
Then, from his pocket, his phone started buzzing. Picking up, Khan practically had to shout, "Benny? What the hell?" He could barely hear her on the other end; behind Benny's voice, a monstrous roaring fought to drown her out
"Dipshit, where the fuck are you?"
"In a gutter! Kind of bleeding! Not doing that great! Where are you, what's going on?"
"I got out early, tried to meet you at the stadium, but now there's a god damn hurricane—"
"A hurricane?"
"The stadium is getting ripped to shreds! Buildings are coming down! Where did you say you were?"
"In a gutter!"
"In a—You're not at the stadium?"
"Not yet," he shouted, scrambling to his feet.
"'Not yet'—?"
But he had already hung up. Slopping through the drowning streets, Khan took off in a sprint. His phone was waterproof, but with the scream of the storm blurring his vision he could barely see the screen. Fumbling his way through the apps, he finally made his way to the Map program. Eyes to the phone, he hurried towards the stadium, unaware he was moving close on the heels of his earlier antagonizers.
