Chapter 55: 51. Like an 80s Action Hero

"So, they've sent you," Frank said, "ghosts of my past."

A lithe, tactically dressed teenager squared up halfway through the busted front door. In his hands was a submachine gun aimed at Frank. A moment of hesitation told the [Fighter] everything he needed about the enemy set upon the Luckrun's household. They were his old colleagues and rivals, teenage agents Frank had competed against for the very spot he now held.

"Don't waste your lives," Frank said, his katana held low at his side. Tiny embers faded in and out of view around the discolored blade. "You won't win. I won't allow it."

"He told me," the former rival said, slowly squeezing the trigger, "I can be a Champion when I kill you."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Don't listen. It's another mind game of his. Just like the rest."

"You don't deserve the magic anymore!" The teen agent-turned-assassin pulled the trigger and sprayed. "You're broken! And broken agents are–ack!"

Frank's 30 Agility had him angle right off the centerline, bullets buzzing over his armless shoulder. He thrust through the assassin's neck in a blur of movement.

No Skill. All skill.

"I'm sorry." Frank sliced the katana out of the assassin's neck before the blade cauterized the wound.

The first assassin fell. More came rushing to replace him. The house became a storm of gun blasts and war cries.

Frank's ghosts crashed through the front windows. They kicked down the kitchen backdoor. They rushed him rather than Miss Luckrun in her bedroom, which was fortunate. Frank didn't mind being their real target.

It was almost like old times.

They were all contenders. Faceless competition from all around the world. Each one hungered to be the one to rise above the rest. Frank's spot mattered the most regardless of how easily the other Champions received their spots. It validated their existence. It gave reason to their pain.

It brought them to the edge of his blade again and again.

A girl with a semi-auto shotgun fired a slug that nearly took his head. Instincts and years of weapon familiarization led Frank to use [Power Parry]. He deflected the next slug into the chest of an assassin with an Uzi. Then Frank used his Agility around the small living room and kitchen to throw off the shotgun girl's aim. Panicking, she shot two more of her colleagues before Frank cut her down.

Frank had a brief look outside and didn't like what he saw. The backyard was swarming with teen assassins rushing in like a tide. He narrowly spotted a sniper three rooftops away and dodged the bullet that would've taken out his eye. Frank went back inside and returned to his defensive battle, his concerns growing as he kept thinking of Miss Luckrun's safety and the lack of MPC support.

For an untraceable amount of time, Frank became violence incarnate.

He kicked the helmet off another rival he had defeated in ocean swimming three years ago. He flicked his sword and batted the midair helmet across the room.

It hit a girl Frank had narrowly defeated in archery once upon a time, her teeth disappearing under the bullet-torn sofa. She dropped the pinless fragmentation grenade she had primed. It fell next to other teenage assassins rushing into the house with suicidal and mindless zealotry.

Frank skewered the ocean swimmer on his sword and used him as a still-living cover. One roaring blast later, Frank shouldered his shredded meat shield off of the sword.

The sofa was gone. The decorations honoring the Luckruns' Caribbean heritage were scattered all over the house. The fridge was outside on the back porch, dented nearly in half after Frank kicked it into a gaggle of assassins. His 40 Strength had made it feel like a simple thing to do.

Bodies and limbs littered the floor. There might've been a few assassins Frank hadn't gotten around to ending their miseries yet. None of this speak of the chaos outside. Civilians panicked in their homes and called for the authorities to intervene.

But they wouldn't.

Powers above the populace's understanding would have the cops and paramedics delayed. The civvies could do nothing but watch in terror as constant waves of unfearing attackers churned up their eccentric neighbor's house.

Loud gunshots and shouts of violence sounded from Jhara's bedroom.

Frank punched an assassin out of his way toward the bedroom hallway. Another assassin tried to knife him in the back, only to get smashed away by an elbow before Frank cut off another assassin's gun arm. More kept streaming after him like ants, pissing Frank off.

Couldn't they see this was pointless?

Didn't they understand they were throwing their lives away for the amusement of an old sicko?

Why must they keep fighting and fighting as if any one of them deserved his spot?

"YoAnna, dammit!" Frank roared, unable to keep down the anger inside.

It bloomed in his chest, roiling with heat and smoke that needed to be released. His Dragon Affinity, his [Dragon Boon], and a perk of [Dragon's Pride] rose from inside. They rode his anger like a hellish stallion riding out of the hottest depths of hell.

Frank stopped in front of Jay's door. His mouth fell open, spewing toxic black smoke and crackling orange embers. His eyes glowed a fierce red-orange as he turned his baleful glare on the rushing assassins.

He was going to burn them for their insolence. Their stupidity. Their disgusting weakness. And–

The telltale sound of a rocket shrieking through the air froze Frank on the spot. He endured a few weak gunshots as he tried to trace where the rocket would land. He stumbled upon the damning realization too late.

The rocket struck Jay's room, exploding years of care and boyish love packed into one place. The bedroom door flew off the hinges and smashed to pieces against Frank's body.

It didn't hurt much.

But it robbed him of his aim when his Dragon Affinity came out in a breath of near-molten fire. The extraordinary affinity power streamed along the wall instead of directly on the assassins. The splashing flames, burst of caustic smoke, and fanning heat still did the trick.

"N-no more! I don't care anymore!" one agent-turned-assassin screamed as he tried to smack the fire off his arm.

All it took was one coward to start it off. Then a girl ran away screaming in fear. Two cowards became half a dozen.

Herd mentality took over.

Something about Frank enduring the results of a rocket attack and breathing fire was too much for even the most brainwashed child soldier. 

The nice part about the breath move was the mana cost economy. It didn't take too much from Frank as a Skillless power.

But it wasn't something he'd like to use often. The Dragon Affinity had this nasty thing of overriding his personality. Or enhancing what was already there, especially when combined with his new Title.

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"Let's hope this wasn't all for naught," Frank muttered as he left behind Jay's destroyed room. He found Miss Luckrun's door open.

Inside, seven bodies lay in various states of death. Some had been freshly killed. Some were dead dead.

Frank froze.

He looked at the huge gaping gun blast wounds carried by some corpses. He noticed the nasty cuts on others. Then he looked up at Miss Luckrun sitting on her desk, a bloody machete in one hand and a smoking sawn-off shotgun in the other.

"Lemme guess," she said with a big grin, "this wasn't part of my profile."

"No," Frank said.

"A girl has to have her secrets," she admitted, sliding off her desk.

She looked at her old writing laptop wistfully. "Everything we've built for years will be lost. My son's home. Our slice of the American dream. Lost."

"I'm sorry, Miss Luckrun," Frank said as the fire fanned out and grew into a greater problem. He might've sealed the deal on this place.

She nodded with a gentle reflection. "It was bound to happen, I suppose. Come now. Let's get me out of here."

She dropped her weapons, putting herself in his complete care. Her tank top, a pair of jeans, and sneakers were all she had to her name once she left this place behind.

There was her son, of course, but Jay would fall into the same state as his mom.

Homeless.

Frank grimaced.

"It's not your job to care about my losses, child," she said. "Do what you can, and no more."

"You're right, Miss Luckrun."

Frank sheathed his sword at his hip. He grabbed a beach towel from her closet. A quick trip to the restroom had the towel soaked in water. Then he wrapped the wet towel around her and picked her up like a child on his hip.

"If these are my last moments, I might die happy," she cooed.

"This won't be," Frank grunted. "So, wipe the drool off your face."

"Whoops!"

Frank dashed through the fire and into Jay's room. To his surprise, another wave of teen assassins risked the fire to find Frank and Jhara. To their surprise, their targets appeared from the flames.

Frank jumped over them and kicked the head of another assassin with a primed grenade. 

Outside, Frank and Jhara faced more assassins waiting firmly on the street and sidewalks. The fleeing assassins from before lay in a corpse pile in front of the house. A bunch of gun barrels raised. The grenade blew up the assassins Frank had jumped over to get out here.

He went back inside, took the flame-lit hallway, and turned for the backdoor. It took all of his Agility to move fast enough to keep Jhara safe and protect himself. He wasn't impervious to fire, heat, and stupid smoke inhalation–which was a real killer. He was merely Resilient.

There were fewer assassins in the backyard.

"Hold tight!" Frank warned. He got a partial faceful of Miss Luckrun's chest, leaving him with one eye to see.

With one arm carrying his charge, and the other missing, Frank pushed himself to do the impossible. He was barely successful.

He kicked aside attackers and stayed a split second ahead of their gun-toting aim. He led them into friendly fire situations while progressing through the Luckrun's giant backyard. Then someone made things harder for him than they needed to and arced in grenades from a launcher. They bombed the yard around Frank and Jhara.

He had to throw her ahead and take frag damage in her place.

"Keep going," Frank said. "I'll hold them off and–"

"Heck, no! That's terrible," Jhara said, staggering to her feet. "That's priming the story for them to take me!"

A rocket flew at Frank's back.

"Run now!" he roared, spewing embers and smoke as he [Power Parried] the rocket.

It hit the lawn with a thumping blast. Fences fell. Smoldering sod rained.

The ground rumbled as Frank gave Jhara his back and moved to meet the next oncoming rush of fools.

Fools he had once been amid not so long ago. One he would've become if he hadn't stayed focused and planned to stay on YoAnna's side regardless of the godling's potential threat to national security. Even if that meant he had to be her critic when she did stupid shit. Her, Jay, and all the others, too.

So, Frank was more than ready to fight his demons by tooth, nail, and flame.

But the ground was still rumbling even after the explosion had settled down for some reason. Frank figured the combined number of assassins set stampeding at him was the reason for the constant rumblings.

The truth appeared when half of the Luckruns' house collapsed into a suddenly forming sinkhole and took a dozen assassins with it. As the sinking widened quickly like a ground-chugging monster, more were to fall and suffer a horrid end.

Frank had forgotten the part about Luckruns' having a possible sinkhole issue. He cussed out Jay's name as if he was the blame and tried to use [Cavalry Charge] to escape.

The ground collapsed from under his feet too fast.

Fantastic.

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