Ruckus In Town (Task)

Task.

It had been a good while since he left the pub on the other side of the city. He'd used his jets to cross waterways as need be, so traveling the city wasn't quite as hard as first thought. He continued his stroll down the various streets and alleyways of Water 7 until a rather interesting sight came upon him.

It as a group of Marines standing outside a shop in a circle. They appeared to be kicking something, and as much as he liked a good circle-kick, something felt off about the current situation. Approaching closer, he could make out things they were saying. "That's what you get for overcharging us!" and "You can't tell Marines what to do!" came to his attention first. He realized they were beating the shopkeeper for some reason.

While it wasn't really his job to intervene, bullying like this wasn't cool. He didn't appreciate that kind of behavior from anyone, and the fact they were Marines only made it worse. Being a pirate, he was used to the idea of fighting them already, but this guy was just a normal citizen. He should be able to run his shop without a bunch of government goons coming and kicking his face in like that. With no one else around, it looked like it would have to be him who stopped this assault.

He walked up behind one of the Marines casually, placing his fist to the back of his head. The man looked up, noticing something touching his neck, only to hear the words, "Jet Punch," uttered calmly from behind him before a painful strike to the brain stem sent him flying into a barrel. He stayed in an unconscious heap as the others took notice of the person ready to challenge them.

"You can't hit us! We're Marines!" No sooner had he finished saying that was he blown onto his ass by a jet of wind from their attacker's palm. It was clear now that they weren't going to make him stand down, so they'd have to teach him the same lesson as the bloodied store owner on the ground. The Marines on their feet began to charge the man, the one knocked over getting back up before following behind them. They were without weapons for the moment due to being on leave, but they were confident their overwhelming numbers would be enough to take down one guy, even if he did have some kind of strange power.

As they were assembling, Fisher inhaled as much as he could. Seconds before they would pile on top of him, he screamed as loud as he could, firing a wave of air from his mouth at the Marines. The wave knocked the first eight back completely, the one lagging behind missing the initial wave. Three of them were knocked into the canal and washed away by the fast moving waters, another smashing through the shop's window and falling unconscious. The others were knocked down, one conking his head on the ground hard enough to knock him out. He'd be unable to move now due to his his Shout's unsavory consequence of knocking the wind out of himself, but he was far from helpless.

Though too busy panting to say it, he lifted his foot and launched a Jet Kick of wind at the tardy Marine's crotch. Doubling over in pain, the man resigned himself to stay on the ground and cradle his bruised body. With only three of their people left in the span of a minute, the remaining Marines were afraid to move. After a full five seconds, one finally began a last charge, hollering into the air with his fists raised. Swinging the sword around to his side, Fisher pressed the guard with his thumb, removing it from its sheath just enough for the blade collar to show. As the military man approached, the pirate narrowed his eyes. In a flash, his sword was now drawn to the other side of his body, the Marine stopping dead in his tracks. A cut appeared from the man's lower abdomen on his left side to his upper right shoulder, a spray of blood gushing from the wound. He fell to the ground in pain. He wouldn't die, though. The wound was shallow.

Having seen enough, the last two Marines decided to cut their loses and run. They used all the speed they could muster to turn the corner and get as far away from the Jet Human as possible, leaving their friends behind to face whatever fate would become of them. He was a good person, though, having no desire to execute a bunch of people who no longer posed a threat to him or the recovering shopkeep. "Thank you, brave young man," he said. "Don't worry about the window. It's no problem." Still out of breath from the continued activity, he merely raised his sword to show his recognition, chopping it through the air to knock off the blood droplets clinging to the blade. He sheathed the long weapon again, returning it to his back before weekly walking off, still catching his breath. He'd have to figure out a way to better use that stupid skill without completely emptying his lungs.



Skills used: Jet Punch, Jet Kick, Jet Shout, Battojutsu.