Chapter Fifteen: Justice

Head injuries were the bane of psychics everywhere. All ESP powers originated from the mind after all, and when the brain was damaged in some way things tended to go a bit off kilter. It was something Tatsumaki knew intimately after years of hard work and death defying battles, of having to fight even after dealing with a splitting headache moments prior.

Villains and monsters had a tendency to aim for her head when they realized how powerful she was. How out of their league they were. And she, the Tornado of Terror, refused to fall to some second rate monster or villain just because of a simple head injury. So before every battle she always made sure to layer the best of her protections around her head. After all, only an idiot would leave such a weak point exposed.

She, the second strongest being in the entire world, could have successfully taken a nuclear strike to her head without flinching. Hell, it wouldn't have even ruffled the hair on her head.

Which is why she didn't even bother dodging when the bald idiot threw a punch at her face. That and it was going a bit too fast for her to properly dodge – though that was probably because of the lack of sleep she's been having lately. Obviously! All the time she spent staying up late doing the Association's work for them really must have tired her out because she could barely see the punch coming at all.

She only had a bare few seconds to realize what was happening, but that didn't matter. The bald idiot would only end up breaking his hand off of her –

Silver Fang ducked out of the way as the Tornado of Terror's body went flying back, slamming into a building and causing it to topple over her. She did not get up.

He only had a fraction of a second to realize what had happened before a red gloved fist filled his vision.

Then all he could see was his own death, coming straight towards him. And he was completely helpless to stop it.

In what seemed like his final moments he found himself thinking back to the past, to the long life he had lived. To the student he had failed, and the empty dojo he so often found himself coming back to. To his family, his beloved brother, and all the wonderful students he met along the way.

He had so many regrets, so many things he wished he had done differently. And yet at the same time, as his eyes closed and he accepted the death that was coming for him, he smiled.

A life well spent.

Bullets were not gonna cut it this time.

Zombieman reattached what little remained of his arm and grimaced. It was gonna take a while to grow it back. Wasn't often that his limbs got vaporized, and even less often by a simple punch.

He eyed the ax in his hand and threw it at the bald villain. It bounced off his shiny head with absolutely no impact.

Then suddenly all he could see was red as his body was splattered across the pavement.

He would have sighed if he currently had any lungs. It was gonna take a while to get himself back together.

And by the time he did... it might already be too late for the others.

The one known as Drive Knight clutched the shattered remains of his prized weapon.

It has taken him years to develop it, to hone it perfection. Years of blood, sweat, and tears. All rendered completely worthless with a simple strike.

He was so absorbed by the destruction of his art that he barely felt the final blow that rendered his vision completely dark.

Superalloy Darkshine always knew baldness would be the death of him.

But he never would have thought that it would have been someone else's baldness. To think there were two men out there who trained so hard as to render themselves completely bald! In any other circumstance Superalloy would have loved to trade training tips.

It was such a shame that the man before him was a villain. It could have –

Ohshitthatwastoofast –!

Pig God wondered if it was finally time for him to die.

Long had he pondered the date, the time, the method in which he would die during his final act of heroism.

A part of him was scared. Scared of what would happen to him when he finally left this mortal coil. Another part, bigger and more all consuming, feared for the people. For what would happen to those under his watch were he to leave his post for good.

But he knew he wouldn't have any worries. There were heroes before him and there would be heroes afterward. The world would keep on turning while his life – and his death – would mean little in the grand scheme of things. Humanity would continue on, as it always had in the past. He meant nothing.

The thought calmed him, as death approached. Pig God had no family and little he would call true friends. There would be no one to be hurt by his inevitable demise. It would be as if he had never existed in the first place.

He could feel it, the mighty winds that split apart the very heavens above. Soon he would be ripped apart, his mind and body ceasing to exist. In these precious, priceless moments, he only had a few seconds to act.

And so act he did.

Child Emperor watched in disgust from his remote terminal as Pig God ate the decayed bodies of his coworkers. Moments later his robotic decoy Dogman was destroyed by the bald villain/monster/whatever the hell he was.

He could actually feel the shock waves of the blow despite being a good half a mile away. The fact that the Associations HQ was still standing – if looking ready to collapse at any moment could be considered standing – only emphasized how good Metal Knight was when it came to building fortresses.

Judging by the robot parts littered across the landscape though, he still needed to work on his robotics.

Just then the remote drone that he built to survey the situation was destroyed by the shock wave of that man/monster/ who even knew anymore's punch.

He sighed and closed his laptop. It – and by extension he – was pretty much useless at this point, considering how completely and utterly fucked they all were.

Reflexively the child hero found himself wincing as the words, "I will clean your mouth out with soap young man!" echoed in his head. His mother was willing to tolerate a lot about him, but curing was something she instantly got mad at him for. And Child Emperor hated the taste of soap.

But still, he felt that his mother would forgive him for his language just this once if she were able to see what he just saw.

He, Metal Knight, and King might actually be the only living members of the S-Class. Everyone else was dead, rendered into ludicrous gibs by a single man/being who had – true to his word – beaten them in less than five minutes. Less than a minute in fact, if his timer was correct.

The strongest members of the human race, all defeated at the same time by a bald man/being in an obnoxious yellow cape. If that didn't spell how fucked they all were, then he didn't know what did.

He ran a hand through his hair, forcing past the hysteria that was threatening to overwhelm his brain. This wasn't as bad as it seemed. He and Metal Knight were still alive while King was out there – somewhere. Doing something.

Whatever it was, it had better be damn important to have caused him to miss out on the possible God level threat on their goddamn doorstep.

Several cities away, a professional gamer was having the time of his life playing a magical girl based RPG game. He pre-ordered it several months ago and after what seemed like decades of agonizing waiting, it finally arrived.

What a good day, he thought as he plugged in the controller and put on his headphones, utterly ignoring his ringing cellphone or the horrified screams that were coming from below him.

Maybe they could negotiate? The man/being had to have wanted something from the Heroes Association, right? Maybe if he waited for him to calm down, they could strike up a deal...

Or maybe he was trying to build a reputation for himself as one of the most ruthless and powerful killers in the world. Because if that was his intent, then he really succeeded.

Child Emperor shook his head and opened up his laptop. No, it was impossible to negotiate with something as destructive as the creature outside. They needed to figure out a way to kill it before it could –

Just then one of his remote drones came back online. The images on the screen were blurry and filled with static, and yet he could easily make out a lone figure running – no riding towards the caped being that single handedly destroyed the Heroes Association.

Were they – were they on a bike?

It had taken Saitama some time to yank the unconscious forms of those weirdos from the stomach of the really fat weirdo. He could honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was the most disgusting thing he had ever done. Ever.

That – coupled with fishing out that sassy green-haired child from a collapsed building as well as gathering all those wiggling, growing zombie body parts into a single pile – pretty much drained what little remained of his anger. Now he just felt tired, kinda like how he usually felt back when he was an ordinary saleryman.

For the first time in his life, he didn't care about a sale. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and forget that this nightmare of a day had ever happened.

After putting all of the unconscious and – in the case of that zombie guy – dismembered bodies into a pile, he set out to do just that.

As least until he heard the words, "Justice Crash!" followed by the sensation of a bike being thrown at his back.

Saitama's eyes must have looked as dead as he felt when he turned around to see some guy wearing biker gear and goggles, standing in front of him looking ready to fight. He was panting heavily even as he brought his fists up, looking as though he would collapse at any minute.

"The Cyclist for Justice, Mumen Rider is here!"