A flash of steel. Hana's blade rises up to meet it before she processes what it is. Her blade goes flying into the sky, and Hana grasps her sword with both hands and drives it forth at the sudden burst of fire, a sacred sword to match the ape's fury.

"Keep on laughin', ya filthy animal!"

The edges of her kimono set alight. Hana balks at the heat. Her eyes dart upward, at the airborne blade come falling down to meet the monkey king from the heavens -- an aerial ace to skewer him from on high!

Speak and you will make it so.

And so the Dog is attacked, thrown across the forest floor. Hana's blades shoot from her sides and she grasps each in her hand, feeling the caress of the cloths wrapped around her wrists seeped in grudges.

"Was tired of bein' quiet anyway! Yo, Monkey King!"

Hana raises her blade to the heavens, gesturing to the canopy above. The moonlight soaks into the blade, distracting the ape while her second melts to shadow beneath her. It only takes a moment, but as the Infernape stops to gawk, her blade emerges behind him and strikes -- a shadow sneak while he's not looking.

Hana watches, intrigued as Aurelie sets everything in order. The intricacies are beyond her. Everything has its purpose, she's sure, but she'd thought smithing was just smashing things with a hammer. But no, of course it's an art. This'll be like watching some painter start from a blank canvas...

When Aurelie pauses just as she's about to begin, Hana laughs.

"Nerves got the better of ya? Sure, sure... lemme see..."

She snatches up the scroll, looking over the characters and trying to recall the words the madame had taught her long ago. At first she grasps awkwardly, but soon enough, it all comes back.

"Well, it's a bit rusty, but... looks like... and then..."

The slurping of noodles. The gulping of beer. The pounding of mugs on the table, and shouts to the waiter for more.

"Nothin' beats this atmosphere but the sound of swords, ain't that right?"

She downs her mug in one prolific chug, slamming it down and shouting over the din.

Across the table is the man. She'd seen him during the battle, briefly, but her attention was elsewhere during the battle itself. Now, though, she gives him a look as intense as she gave Montgomery James after she cut his bullet in half.

"You think you can out-drink me, big guy? C'mon, let's order another round, on me!"

Violence begets violence.

They'd made enemies of half the region at this point. There was no doubt that people wanted Fox dead. Foolish to wager otherwise. All of them would get their turn, racking up karma like their sins were poker chips. Admin Fox just had the most to lose.

But Hana was all-in.

She smiles as she eyes the townsfolk slowly filing out of the alleyway's dark, hidden corners. In their eyes was the hatred of those who'd lost everything, those who wanted nothing more than the suffering of the one who'd taken everything from them.

"This ain't gonna end like you think it'll end," she announces to the crowd, both hands drawing her doublades in one swift motion.

The moment she does, chaos explodes around them.

The old man nearest Hana suddenly clutches his throat, voiceless in response to her announcement, red trickling from between his fingers. The bug pokemon's wings are severed, and it goes tumbling into the gutter. The psychic fae begins preparing a mental technique, but Hana lunges forward with all the momentum of her ghostly swords and she kicks it square in the chest, knocking the wind out of it-- buying her just enough time to cut the pokemon's throat with a well-aimed strike.

But all around them, the crowd presses further. A middle-aged woman commands her azumarill to smash them with an Aqua Tail. A kid orders his father's Shiftry to summon a razor wind, fans sending up a gale that cuts deep into Hana's thigh. She buckles to one knee, still ready to fight. A group of men with improvised weapons lumber from a nearby broken doorway, ready to fight themselves.

"Fox--!"

Hana grimaces in pain, the only thing she can do to warn him as her sword wraps a cursed cloth around her wound...

"The sheriff was riding in on an invading force."

The simple answer first. Hana's hand rests on her blades, clattering together in anger at her hip. The motion stills them somewhat.

"League were out for blood, and wild dogs need to be put down."

She pauses, looks the man dead in his eyes. There's no deception hidden there when she elaborates on that matter-of-fact statement.

"Tell me, who represents the ideals of the League? Your Top Champ, right?

"Well, bitch is a killer. And I don't just mean she's got blood on her hands, we all fuckin' do. I mean the cunt's a cold-hearted, cold-blooded murderer. Say what you will about Rocket, but samurai have a code of honor. Your opponent is defenseless, they yield, you don't cut 'em down just 'cause you can with your fancy avatar powers.

"... And if she's the best of you lot, what's that make you?"

"Clayton, huh?"

She'll remember that. She's always up for a challenge.

"Well, alright!"

Hana places her hands on her hips, resisting the urge to jokingly quip, 'that was easy!'. The underboss's sense of humor was... drier than most, and she had to be careful.

"SPECTRA's resources'll be a great help, puttin' Navidson in the ground, I'm sure. You'll have his head yet, I promise."

She winks to reassure him.

But she neglects spilling the details. That Navy had a wolf with him, that he was doing some crazy shit with it in the midst of Regice's attack, and blew the giant apart. That kinda power only belonged to an avatar, but...

Tell Quinn, and SPECTRA would take it over.

... No, Navy was hers to kill.