Cut Off Their Hands and Feet (2)

After confirming that Dragonian and his goons had entered the club, I hopped down from the rooftop and slipped inside. Who knew a simple mask could make such a difference? Without it, no one had a clue I was Steel Armor. The club guards gave me a quick glance but looked away just as fast. Probably running a vibe check. If I'd been some ugly bastard, they would've booted me out on the spot.

Not that I'm some pretty boy or twink—I'm a handsome hunk oozing raw masculinity. Hell, with world-topping superpowers and looks to match? Scary shit! Pfft-pfft-pfft!

The pounding bass hit my eardrums the second I stepped in. Boom-boom-boom! Yeah, that's what a club needs—beats that drill right into your skull.

Come to think of it, this is only my second time in a place like this. A stud like me, built like a god, and I've only hit up girl-central clubs twice, including tonight. And not even to hunt pussy—to hunt villains. Who's gonna call a straight-laced guy like me a slut?

Gonna fuck that succubus later. Succubus pussy is the best.

Great music! Great crowd! As expected from the top club in District 88's nightlife strip—the quality control was on point. Guys were all sharp, girls all hot and stacked. Especially the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ones in tiny outfits showing maximum skin... they made my heart—no, my dick—throb.

Gotta buy a club someday. Or build one from scratch. Top floor VIP room just for me, drag in the hotties, throw a full-on sex party. Sounds electric. Can't live on Korean food forever—gotta mix in Western, Chinese, Japanese, snacks too. Harem orgies ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with my girls are great, but fresh meat once in a while? Chef's kiss.

I climbed onto the stage and pressed up behind a girl dancing in a skirt so short her panties flashed with every move.

Hard-onnnn! My raging cock ground against her ass through our clothes. She was buzzed on the club vibe too—didn't pull away, just shook her hips harder, teasing my dick like a pro.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tight. Basically dry-humping at this point.

Where's Dragonian... Meanwhile, my eyes tracked him upstairs. He gripped the railing, eyed the dancing crowd below, then ducked into a room.

"Wanna get outta here?"

"Huh?"

The girl grinding on my dick turned and hit me with that line. Looking down, her half-exposed tits were right there. Nice! C-cups.

Wanna blow a load. That mole under her eye made her extra sexy. Even without it, that body was fire. My cock was throbbing—dying to unload. Any other night, straight to the hotel. But tonight? Dragonian plus other targets. No time.

"Sorry, busy night."

"What? Wait—hey!"

I ground hard against her ass one last time, like I was about to nut, then pulled back with a sigh. She reached for me, but I melted into the crowd.

Love ya, slut... Playtime over. Time for Steel Armor to shine.

I crouched low, scanning for eyes, then pulled the skull mask—Steel Armor's signature—from my pocket and slapped it on. Stood up.

Steel Armor descends.

Boom-boom-boom!

"Kyahaha!"

"Yo-hooo~!"

"..."

The partiers, lost in the groove, didn't notice. Fine by me.

Huuuh! Deep breath, knees bent. I launched toward Dragonian's room.

Thud!

"What the—?!"

"Who the fuck's that...?"

I vaulted 8 meters in one leap, cleared the railing, landed in the hall. Dragonian's slow-on-the-uptake goons gawked.

"Th-that guy's!"

One recognized me, eyes bulging.

"S-Steel Ar—"

"That's enough."

Crack!

Chopped his neck with my hand chop. Neck snapped. The rest finally drew guns—but no shots fired. One-punch one-kill. Black-suited thugs dropped like flies.

Bang!

"Freeze! FBI!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

Kicked the door open. Guys mid-sip, girls, and Dragonian with babes on both sides—all stared.

Silence hung.

"Uh... tag, you're it?"

"Kill him!"

"Kyaaaah!"

Were they seriously playing freeze tag? I said "tag," and his goons charged.

Every thug in the room: 4-5 level ability ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠users. Girls screamed, hit the deck—instinct screaming battlefield.

One secret: these weren't my hands. They were Mom's hands! Not "mami," real Mom hands!

Smack! Clean hits echoed. C/B-rank villains touched by Mom's hand relived childhood nostalgia and passed out cold. Mom's hand = knockout punch!

"Ladies out."

Trembling on the floor, they bolted. One girl's legs gave out—crawled on all fours.

Smack!

"What a juicy ass!"

"Hngaaah~!"

Her wiggling butt was too tempting mid-escape. Spanked it. She crawled off sobbing.

Now, just me and today's target: Dragonian.

"Hoo... the big boss graces us."

Despite downed goons, he sipped casually. Poured two glasses—one for him, one for me.

"Sit."

"Hmph."

What game is this? Sat on the table anyway. He chugged; I matched.

"Dunno how you found this place... but I'm the target, right?"

"You know it."

"Got the balls?"

"What? Balls?"

I snorted. Countless S-ranks fallen to me. Confidence? Overflowing.

"Nah, no confidence."

"What?"

"No confidence I'd lose to you."

"Heh. True S-rank villain grit."

He refilled. Kept talking.

"Killing me changes nothing. You'll lose to the boss eventually."

"No confidence there either. Zero faith I'd lose to Jet Stream."

"Join the boss instead?"

"What?"

He downed his full glass, eyed me.

"You and boss team up? We rule all Dark City. No petty turf games with dumbass villains, no kowtowing to Hero Association."

"Me and Jet Stream ally? Others'll band against us."

"Ally? As if. Prideful fucks."

"Like who... right, Demon Baron. Shadow Killer's dog too."

Demon Baron: one of Dark City's 17 S-rank villains, bordering Shadow Killer's turf—rival. Small skirmishes forever. Everyone thought enemies. Bullshit facade. They were tight; Demon Baron his subordinate.

"True. But your grit, boss's strategy and forces? Unbeatable."

"..."

Dragonian pitched hard, trying to recruit me to Jet Stream. Enemy turning ally? Ballsy dude.

Waste to kill. Solution? Bug-ify him.

I can't kill Dragonian right now though.

"Our power dynamic's flipped."

"Hm?"

"It's not me under Jet Stream—your under me. That's the natural order."

"...Cocky bastard."

"Not cocky. It's a fact."

"Fine then."

He slammed the whiskey bottle, then stood. Closed his eyes—then opened them to reveal reptile-like slit iris.

Crack! His body swelled. Lizard scales sprouted over his pale skin.

"Normally I'd wait for his full transform. It was tradition. But I'm busy tonight—I got others to smash. Sorry, Dragonian."

Before he finished his transformation, Gravity Dominator yanked him. Then I activated Steel Skin.

"Iron fist!"

"Guh?!"

Iron Fist doubles my punch power. Bare skin vs. steel? Their worlds apart. I was able to smash his half-lizard head in.

But his durability went up from the transformation—he countered me fast.

Repulsion. Fucker flew back. His fist whooshed the air.

Attraction. Then yanked him again. My fist buried in his gut.

Thud!

"Grraaaah!"

His swelling body shredded most of his clothes. But I could still grab his ragged collar, spin him around, and slam him on the table. I mounted him to take the advantage.

"Fuckin' gross!"

On a dude?! Shameful tears! Wahhh! Proof in my eyes!

I pounded his face, how about a quiz to pass the time?

"Quiz time! What's the scariest food ever?"

"Gack! Grk! Graaa!"

He took the beating like a champ, he even roared a counter. True A-rank villain material! Untreated, he'd hurt bad vs. Jet Stream later.

"Answer...!"

"Dieee!"

"Indian rice!"

I clenched my fists high.

"Indiiiiaaaaan~"

"Guhk!"

"Rice!"

I hammered alternating blows. With level 10 Body Enhancer power. His face was mangled fast.

Veering off his head, now Indian rice to his broad chest.

Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!

"Cough! Gack!"

His chest caved. Puking blood, he seems to be near death.

"Nap, wake up—it's done."

"K-Kill me..."

Crack! Headshot KO. Then Indian rice to his arms, shoulders, legs, spine—I shattered his bones sequentialy.

Even Dragonian needs ages to heal that.

"Let's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go."

"Yeah."

I summoned clone (Mark Two), handed Dragonian to him, then headed out.

Boom-boom-boom!

"Having fun, huh."

"Tch."

The crowd danced oblivious to upstairs carnage.

"Oh right. Almost forgot."

Turned back upstairs—goons left.

"These guys... hmm."

Experience up 8%.

"Just 75% more to level up."

Nice haul.