Chapter 1: Chaotic Culture I

“So you always came, after all! I expected you punks to run with your tails between your legs the moment you heard of us again.” the intruder exclaimed, proudly showcasing his glistening, white teeth.

09:01 P.M. By then, the Urban Center’s docks would have usually been deserted. That night, however, could be considered an exception.

“Yeah, right. We really don’t need to hear that from you, moron. Got any last words before we knock your heads off?”

The snort had come from a rather annoyed-looking young man in questionable attire, standing opposite from Dragon-King and his group of had-beens.

Grinning at him with glee, the tattoo-covered, musclebound man spoke once more.

“Come to think of it, where’s that little girl you kiddies are always followin’ around? Too scared to come out and play today? Some leader you have.”

“Not enough for her to bother with. We’ll be the ones kicking your behinds this time around.”

Dozens of individuals had gathered and currently stood around the waterfront, next to one of the many old warehouses that lined up throughout.

The Dragonhead members all looked fairly similar, closely mirroring their leader’s overall appearance, fit with worn-out jackboots, camouflage pants and modified leather jackets which would have just as well fit a biker gang. Most of them had shaved their heads entirely, a few of the Dragons including the leader had left out a thick, spiked strip of hair at center of their scalp.

“Don’t you underestimate us, kid. Me personally, I was thinking it was about time we took this city back. It ain’t been all that long since Seagate was our turf, you runts!”

“And when was that? Stone age? If I were you, I’d be walking away while I still can.”

His eyebrows widening, the Dragonheads’ leader laughed out loud, his voice resounding around the vicinity. At first glance, one could only really distinguish him from his companions due to the thick pair of glasses he wore over his dim, clouded eyes.

“I’ll at least commend you for spotting us so fast. That was impressive. But now, I’d say some discipline is in order.” the man remarked, signaling the rest of the Dragons.

They were no more than forty, but their numbers surely surpassed the small groups of ten or fifteen they usually moved around in, or at least so Aaron thought, surrounded by the darkness.

Facing both the Dragons and the far ocean, with their backs turned towards the old warehouse, were about twenty to thirty other young people, with simple, ragged street clothing as their only noticeable attire. They appeared even less organized than their intruders, at first glance. On their backs, indiscreet white-colored emblems could be seen, reminiscent of a slender, clawed hand. That alone gave them their bare sense of unity. Differing from the old-wrinkled Dragons, actual adults in that ghostly group were few and far between.

“We’ll see about that, then.”

In front of them stood Aaron, his back towering over the rest. He did not look much different from them otherwise, and as second-in-command, he was not even their actual leader, but rather a stand-in with less experience.

He wore what appeared to be some kind of ragged old soccer equipment, coupled with an open, black trenchcoat reaching down to his knees, the characteristic symbol painted onto its back.

Dragon-King couldn’t hold back a grin.

Without their scrawny leader, those mindless punks had no sense of direction, especially when facing a surprise attack like that. The Dragonheads had already won, he was sure of it.

Once again, the Dragons’ leader laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Listen up, kid. Y’all may think you’re kings of the hill and nobody can top you, but believe me, there’s a first time for everything. Underestimating us was your second mistake tonight! As for the first… Maybe you brats should’ve behaved and obeyed your curfew for once, huh?”

Snapping his fingers, Dragon-King waited for a few seconds. The gang members standing on both his sides soon moved away, replaced by others armed with rifles, shotguns, and various other firearms, as their allies aided them from behind with flashlights.

“Oh…? So this was your plan…”

“Today, the White Phantoms fall!!” he roared, followed by some of his subordinates.

The deafening sound of gunshots quickly filled the area, closely accompanied by the unbearable smell of gunpowder and blood.

One after another, the stunned teenagers fell and stumbled as countless holes opened up in their clothes and skin and inches and bits of them flew around, the disheveled gravel they stood on progressively turning into a sea of blood.

The Dragons kept firing until the last of their ammunition, but even in the face of raw pain, the Phantoms didn’t beg for anything. They silently gathered their strength, and rose once more.

The second-in-command himself, he hadn’t fallen down in the first place. He just stood there in bloodied rags, scowling at the Dragons. Many of them were the same as well. As for the others, they too had quickly rose up, once again.

“I see. Very funny, King. I didn’t expect that.” the boy muttered, occasionally interrupted by the blood that forced its way up his throat and a pair of knees that threatened to crumble any second, “But you’ll still have to do better than that.”

Not uttering a single word, a stupefied King tightly clenched his fist, his razor-sharp nails piercing his palm, as it added to the pool below his feet.

“Fuck these weapons! The hell were you thinkin’, boss?” came a voice from behind him.

“What the hell? How are they still standing!?”

“Mow ‘em down, dammit!”

“There’s no more ammo!”

“Boss, what do we do!?”

It shouldn’t matter, in the end. The guns had still fulfilled their purpose in slowing down those dwarfs and leaving them open for the next step in the plan. Yet, it still bothered him.

As he widened his eyes and grit his honed teeth, the leader of Dragonhead spat out his final statement:

“Oh, who cares!? Let’s make mincemeat out of them!!”

Uncoordinated, the burly outlaws threw aside the empty firearms and leapt forward, ferociously aiming for the fewer Phantoms' heads, who, despite their wounds, had still been ready for them, countering the other side’s offense just as viciously. Their eyes shone unnaturally, reflecting the full moon, while the edges of their teeth were now likened to saws as they tore each other apart like wild animals.

Both groups moved around as nimbly and eagerly as famished predators, yet just as often tripping over each other and even gritting their own allies. But one of them moved faster than the other.

The Phantoms tore through the Dragons (and each other) with fists, tusks, and whatever else they could get their hands on as their enemies tried reciprocating the treatment.

For each fallen Phantom, about three Dragons followed, and as their invading forces kept decreasing by the second, there was hardly any doubt what would be the outcome of that dispute.

Before any of them had the time to realize it, pure carnage surrounded those street-dwellers. The blood-covered footing rippled back and forth, as countless limbs and other body parts flew around and landed on top of it, lifelessly. Their source were, of course, the numerous limping, barely moving, unconscious or even half-dead members from both sides who saberes back and fourth and fell like flies, one after the other.

But they were still alive, all of them. Even after all that, not a single one of those savages had actually died in the onslaught.

Quickly and without even realizing it, Dragon-King started panicking. He needed to turn that situation around somehow, before the Dragons ended up with too many casualties.

Keeping an enhanced human alive was rather easy, requiring no special effort, but the actual healing process required for their bodies to function properly again would take too much time done naturally. That wasn’t something the Dragons could afford.

Signaling one of the subordinates to his right, he yelled:

“Paco! You blind!? Time to pass out the merchandise!”

“But boss, you said this was for the after -“

“Forget that and do what I tell you!!”

“But what about -“

“NOW!!”

The King's wingman did not look much different from his other colleagues, aside from the massive, sturdy-looking leather bag he carried around his shoulder, spanning more than half his height. Opening it at once, he revealed its contents.

Out of the bag came several large metal containers sharing a similar design.

Upon noticing the novelty, all Dragonhead members promptly started yelling with enthusiasm as the countless bottle-like objects were thrown around and each retrieved one unit as they were sent to them.

Thirstily savoring the scarlet aroma as it swiftly slipped down their throats, they quickly regained their strength and energy as if the previous six minutes had not even happened.

Again baring their canines, the leather-sporting gangsters promptly advanced toward their targets once more, their severe wounds entirely forgotten as if they could no longer feel them, and just as naturally, their leader followed suit.

With the Dragons viciously mowing through, it was now too late for the Phantoms to take another haema dose to even the odds, but madness, however, did not know limits. No matter how weak or inexperienced they seemed, they stood their ground. No matter how wounded, no matter how broken, the moment one fell, another got up.

And the fallen Dragons kept piling up, as the docks were steadily plunged into a literal bloodbath.

“What’re you waiting for!? Tear them apart!!” Dragon-King kept yelling, but it was no use.

He alternately tore off their arms or broke their backs in half, screams of agony were heard throughout as he picked up one Phantom after the other.

“Just die already, you scum!”

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Having taken out about nine of them, he finally reached their second-in-command a few meters away, currently in a scuffle with three of his men. He relentlessly fought on, his trench coat ripped in half and an uncanny grimace over his features, as he spitefully snapped each of their necks after meeting some resistance.

Turning towards the newly arrived opponent, Aaron stared into his eyes, his features contorting in defiance while he readied his bloodied fists once more, telling him he could keep going all night long. It was a very poor lie. He seemed barely able to even stand up in the midst of all that chaos, and Dragon-King looked quite keen on savoring the moment.

As they exchanged blows, it didn’t take very long for the kid to slow down, each of his strikes progressively weaker and easier to avoid. The massive gang leader soon grew tired of it and thrust his closed fist right into his exhausted adversary’s face, sending him flying back a few meters.

The man let out yet another laugh.

The boy now lay on the crimson-dyed floor, as his adversary leisurely wondered what to do next. Several of his comrades had tried coming over to help, but the Dragons that remained where set on keeping them occupied.

“Let’s see, let’s see… Should I break your back too? Or maybe skin you alive…? Or maybe we should just light you on fire... Mmm… That wouldn’t work either.” he happily sung as his soles splattered on the pool below.

No matter how much he beat him up, he wouldn’t be able to kill him off without the proper means. How frustrating. The damn brat refused to pay attention, focused only on pushing his forearm against the floor. Clicking his tongue, Dragon-King pressed the heel of his boot against the young man’s wounded chest.

“I see. No matter what happens, your stubborn ass’ll just keep getting back up anyway? Well, it shouldn’t be that long ‘till your juice wears off, but… Well, just standing here and waiting would take too damn long!”

Still showing resistance, the boy weakly shook his left arm. He seemed to be trying to say something, but the answer to that taunt did not come out, replaced only with muddled, bloody coughing.

Dragon-King broke into another unrestrained cackle, echoing throughout the otherwise empty docks, and resumed his boast.

“Well, it’s just not worth the wait. I want to break your little friends’ spirit before that, so… I wonder, if I simply crushed your skull and tore your brains out, would that do the trick…? Let’s find out!”

Before any of the other Phantoms could reach them, the Dragon leader’s enormous hand covered the entirety of his drenched face, tightening his grip over his head. Saliva running through his knife-like tusks, he brought it closer to his wide open jaws, his mouth ready to close with half the whole thing inside.

“...!?”

In a sudden movement, Dragon-King let go of him and jumped a few feet back, barely avoiding a high-speed laceration aimed at his eyes.

It hadn't come from Aaron, however, who now lay weakly on the floor far ahead, his torn coast spread out on the gravei.

Directly in front of him now stood yet another Phantom, occupying the same space he had previously been on, and like so blocking his way to the fallen delinquent.

Like all the other brats, this one too was covered in baggy street clothing, though seemed, rather feeble in comparison to the others. Still, Dragon-King did not attack her right away like he had all the others.

Only briefly managing to detect her scent, he hadn’t even seen her arrive at all.

Under the hood that sat atop her head, few incongruous features could be faintly seen, large crimson eyes examining her surroundings in an empty, endless glare, only interrupted by the uneven locks of white hair that fell right in front of them, almost reaching her corpse-pale nose amidst the moon’s vague glow. There was a large, red-colored emblem on her back, similar in shape to the one the other Phantoms sported.

The battle all around them suddenly came to a halt, both gangs staring in silence at the new arrival. As he tried sitting with much difficulty, the Phantom’s second-in-command spoke wearily:

“We… We’re really sorry, boss! We should have waited for you to get here, but they came out of nowhere, they started attacking our territory! The second-shift guys haven’t even arrived yet!”

The head of the White Phantoms stayed silent, frowning as she looked around one more time.

“You took your sweet time to show up, oh great lady! We were all getting just a little bit too tired of counting bones, you know?”

She turned to him, empty stare prompting him to stumble back.

“I see…” she finally spoke, her voice echoing morosely through the silent dock. “From the look of this place, it seems you guys were getting pretty impatient. But, for what exactly? It’s not like you’re going to take anything from our territory. What are you even doing here again? Weren’t you all supposed to be holed up back in Central?”

If seen anywhere else, she’d look like some ordinary child. The same could be said about many of her subordinates, but it was especially true in her case.

In simple terms, she didn’t look like she belonged in that place. Be it her voice, her ghastly face, or unguarded demeanor, not a single part of her seemed to fit that wasteland of scum.

Yet, there she was, without a scratch no matter what happened, no matter what she did or where she went. It was unsettling, in a sense.

Hearing her, he widened his lips, his bloodthirst visible once more.

“Oh, come on! We just came to pay you all a little visit, so why the sorry look?”

“And then what? You have no business being here. You're washed out, and completely useless to us. The Dragons are not welcome.” she inquired, stepping forward, “You’ve already lost. It’s the third time this month and we’re getting tired of you. BesidesI thought we had an agreement. Seagate City belongs to us.”

“What!? That’s not what we-“

“All of it, yes. And we don’t have time for your excuses. This is our exclusive territory now, and around here, we do as we please. Not you.”

“You little…!”

“Give it up. Right now, you are an intruder on Phantom grounds, and we have no need to humor you. This is never going to work for you or your friends, and you know it. The Dragonheads are far past their prime already.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP ALREADY!! Who do you think you’re talking to!? Scum like you aren't worth a damn! You aren’t worth a damn!!!”

“And so what? The White Phantoms have no need to prove anything to trash. We’ll hand your rears back to you as many times as we have until you get the message.”

Clenching his fist, the he let out a single growl, and from the position she stood in, the girl in the hood surveyed the man’s bulky legs, which now trembled just as violently as his fists. His expression darkened, and exhaling with slight struggle, he made his statement:

“Well, who cares!? It’s up to you whether you wanna leave our turf whole or in pieces!!”

He retrieved yet another opaque container from one of his men and swallowed its contents, staring mockingly at the pale girl in front.

“What’s it going to be, then?” he said, lowering his tone. “Your buddies don’t seem to be in such a great shape today, huh?”

“Most of them can still stand up, at the very least. Your guys, on the other hand…” she grinned, the red glow of her eyes disturbingly wide amidst the darkness.

Looking behind him, Dragon-King’s face contorted once again. She wasn’t quite sure if it was due to surprise or disdain, but still kept her feet down nonetheless. The Phantoms had the advantage now.

Most of the Dragons were lying on the floor, with either half their limbs missing, internal organs gauged open, or their whole faces ripped off.

“Y’know, I just got a pretty good idea!” she said.

Without looking back to her Phantoms, she waved her hand high in the air, and joining her fingers together, snapped three times without pause.

Promptly obeying, the thugs retreated further to the shadows, the members still able to walk having to either carry or help the unconscious and disabled ones move away with them, leaving the girl on her own.

She then turned back to face the remaining Dragons still capable of moving… now only five in total.

After a few silent seconds, four of those remaining five started limping away as well, leaving be only the two gang leaders.

“Seems they got the message.”

“What? What’re you morons doin’!? Get back here!!” yelled Dragon-King in confusion.

“Even your cheap goons manage to have more integrity than you do. That saddens me, it does.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Let’s just settle it one-on-one. Whoever wins gets to keep Seagate, yes?”

The Dragons leader broke into a deafening cackle.

“You gotta be kiddin’…”

"Give it your best shot, if you can handle one of these kids by yourself.” she finished, with a cruel grin.

“That does it…” he snarled.

Screaming in a rage, he pressed his feet on the brittle floor and leapt forward, deranged as a bull in a fighting arena, hurling behind several pieces of gravel.

Leaning to her left, she moved aside as his hand failed her head by several inches.

He had excessive confidence in his individual fighting experience, and tended to become careless when only two people were involved. She found it pitiful, but recognized it came quite handy.

Judging by the two gang’s previous altercations, the man certainly did not look cut out to lead a team of that scale, yet he undoubtedly exceled in melee combat by himself, so there was no doubt that making his predicament more advantageous like that would have sounded appealing.

That was why, as long as she didn't take his idiocy for granted, she was certain one could make short work of the cool with the right methods.

Following his right hand, his left appeared even faster, aiming his claws at her torso. Knocking it aside took almost all of her strength, leaving her open to further attack. And so he swung his right leg and kicked her sideways, knocking the girl back several meters.

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