CHAPTER 78: [78] CAMERAS ARE ROLLING (SMILE)

Xavier moved through the parking garage like a shadow, his new sunglasses darkening the already dim space. The concrete structure amplified voices, letting him track his targets well before he spotted them. Three rows down, the six men from outside the theater huddled around a black sports car, voices bouncing off the concrete pillars.

"Fucking hunter bitches," one complained, still cradling his wrist. "That blonde one nearly broke my arm."

"You should sue," another suggested, leaning against the car. "These academy broads think they can do whatever they want."

"Did you see that silver-haired one though?" A third guy whistled, his Metro University sweatshirt stretched tight across his chest. "Worth the risk, man. I bet she—"

"I bet she what?" Xavier interrupted, stepping into view at the end of the row.

Six heads snapped in his direction. The one with the injured wrist straightened up, wincing.

"It’s that guy from outside," he muttered to his friends. "The one with all the girls."

Xavier removed his sunglasses, tucking them into his pocket. "You left the conversation so quickly. I thought we should finish it."

The apparent leader of the group—taller than the others with carefully styled brown hair—stepped forward. "Look man, we don’t want trouble."

"That’s funny," Xavier said, walking closer, "because trouble is exactly what you were looking for when you put your hands on my friend."

He stopped about ten feet away, noting the security camera mounted on a nearby pillar. Its red light blinked steadily.

"Your friend overreacted," the injured one said. "We were just being friendly."

"Friendly." Xavier nodded as if considering this. "Is that what you call it? Because from where I was standing, it looked like six grown men harassing women outside a movie theater."

The leader crossed his arms. "We were just talking to them."

"And when they told you to leave them alone?"

"They didn’t have to break Ryan’s wrist!"

Xavier looked at the injured one—Ryan, apparently—and smiled without warmth. "You’re lucky that’s all she broke."

Ryan’s face reddened. "You think you’re hot shit because you’ve got those girls wrapped around your finger? What are you, their pimp?"

The others laughed, but there was nervousness behind it.

Xavier’s smile didn’t change. "No, I’m just someone who respects women enough not to grab them in public. But I guess that concept is too advanced for guys who need to travel in packs to talk to girls."

"Fuck you," one of them spat.

"Is that the best you can do?" Xavier asked, glancing at the camera again. "No wonder you can’t get dates without assaulting someone. Your conversation skills are about as developed as your facial hair."

He gestured toward the patchy beard on one of them.

"What’s that supposed to be, by the way? Did you glue your pubes to your face, or is that a medical condition?"

The patchy-bearded one touched his face self-consciously before his expression hardened.

"You got a death wish or something?"

Xavier laughed. "I’ve seen more threatening teddy bears."

He turned to address all of them. "Let me explain something simple. Those women you harassed? They’re hunters. They train every day to fight monsters that would make you piss yourselves. And you thought, what? That they’d be impressed by your grabby hands and discount cologne?"

"You don’t know who you’re messing with," the leader warned, stepping closer.

"I know exactly who I’m messing with," Xavier replied. "Six guys who couldn’t get a date if their lives depended on it. Six guys who think they’re entitled to touch women without permission. Six guys who are about to make a very poor decision."

The leader’s face twisted. "You think those hunter bitches are special? They probably put out for any guy on campus. Especially that silver-haired one. Bet she’s—"

Xavier’s vision narrowed, a roaring in his ears nearly drowning out the rest of the sentence. His hands curled into fists at his sides. The pink meter in his peripheral vision flickered to life, hovering at zero.

Don’t kill them. There are cameras. Make them throw the first punch.

"You know what?" Xavier said, his voice deadly calm. "I get it now. You’re mad because even if you had a millennia, you wouldn’t be able to touch any of those women the way I do. Must be frustrating, being so fucking pathetic."

The leader lunged forward, swinging wildly. Xavier stepped aside, the fist missing his face by inches.

Perfect Dodge: +10

The meter ticked up.

"That all you got?" Xavier taunted. "My grandmother hits faster, and she’s been dead for twenty years."

Two more of them came at him simultaneously. Xavier ducked under one punch and blocked another.

One of them got to grab his shirt to sell the self defense. Xavier twisted, breaking the grip and countering with a palm strike to the sternum that sent the guy stumbling backward into a car.

Counter Strike: +15

The meter climbed higher. 30/250.

"Come on," Xavier said. "Six against one, and you still can’t land a hit? No wonder you have to harass women. It’s the only way you can feel like men."

Xavier kept himself positioned so the camera could capture everything. He dodged most of their attacks, letting a few glancing blows land to sell the self-defense angle. Each dodge, counter, and combination added to his meter.

50/250. 65/250. 80/250.

One of them pulled a knife. The blade glinted under the fluorescent lights.

"Now we’re talking," Xavier grinned, beckoning with his fingers. "Come show me what you can do with that toy."

The knife-wielder charged. Xavier sidestepped, caught the extended arm, and twisted. The knife clattered to the ground as the man howled in pain.

Counter Strike: +15

95/250.

Xavier kicked the knife under a car, then turned to face the remaining attackers. The leader and three others still stood, though they looked considerably less confident now.

"What’s wrong?" Xavier asked. "It’s four on one. Don’t tell me you’re scared?"

They rushed him together. Xavier met them head-on.

Basic Combo: +5

Counter Strike: +15

Perfect Dodge: +10

The meter climbed steadily. 125/250. 140/250. 155/250.

Xavier caught one punch and used the momentum to throw its owner into another attacker. Both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Counter Strike: +15

170/250.

The leader landed a hit to Xavier’s ribs.

140/250

"There you go," he said. "Finally managed to hit me. Want a gold star?"

He retaliated with a precise strike to the solar plexus. The leader doubled over, gasping for breath.

Counter Strike: +15

155/250.

The last one standing backed away, hands raised.

"Wait, wait! We’re done, okay? We’re done!"

Xavier straightened, breathing only slightly elevated. "Are you sure? Because your friends were very interested in what they’d do to my silver-haired friend. I’m curious what you’d try to do to me."

"Nothing! We were just talking shit, man. We didn’t mean it."

"Didn’t mean it," Xavier repeated. "So when you grabbed her, that was what? A misunderstanding?"

"It was stupid, okay?"

Xavier looked around at the groaning men on the ground. The leader was still hunched over, trying to catch his breath. Ryan cradled both arms now instead of just one.

"Here’s what’s going to happen," Xavier said, stepping closer to the last man standing. "You’re going to take your friends and leave. You’re going to forget about suing anyone for your injuries, because I have a feeling the security footage will show exactly who started this fight and pulled out a deadly weapon."

He nodded toward the camera.

"And if I ever see any of you near my friends again, what happened today will seem like a gentle massage compared to what I’ll do to you. Are we clear?"

The man nodded frantically.

"Say it," Xavier demanded.

"We’re clear! We’ll leave you alone!"

Xavier’s meter glowed steadily at 145/250. He’d almost reached Fever Mode, but these losers hadn’t been worth the effort. Still, the exercise had been satisfying.

"Help your friends up and get out of here," he said, stepping back to give them room.

As they gathered themselves, Xavier checked his watch. Eight minutes had passed.

Damn, guess I missed the previews.

He pulled out his sunglasses and put them back on, watching as the six men limped toward their cars.

None of them looked back.