"Pack of Marlboro Reds." He grumbled as he pulled a $10 bill from his wallet.

As soon as the gas station clerk handed Jason the pack of cigarettes, he tossed the bill on the counter. "Keep the change." He said as he opened the door and walked to his car.

"Ah. Fuck." He sighed as he stepped down into his car and smacked the top of the pack against his palm a couple times before opening it, removing a cigarette, and lighting it between his lips.

He was practically in the heart of Naraku's territory. This wouldn't be much of a big deal if he was a normal, law abiding citizen. But, he wasn't. It would have been one thing if he drove a mini-van or a four-door sedan. But he didn't. It was 3:14 in the morning. The only kinds of people out after one were cops and criminals. He sure as hell wasn't a cop. And he sure as hell wasn't in no daily driver. He practically had a target on him with the red and silver paw on his front fenders just behind his wheel wells. Coincidental enough. Someone might mistake it for some sports team? Not with two number 9s in the center of the paw and sure as hell not with "Hounds Forever" making a top rocker and "Forever Hounds" making the bottom.

He started his car with and backed out of the parking space. He turned around and faced out towards the road. Left would take him all the way back home. Right would take him to Vanity Estates. The main prowling ground for anything criminal in this part of town. Hell, it got so bad at night that the police wouldn't go there in a nothing less that full kevlar and an M4. He racked the slide on his .45. He turned right.

He crept to a stop at a 4-way. Just on the other side of the street standing on the sidewalk was just what he was looking for. A little trouble. There was a group of gang members all flying the colors of the Satan St. Demons. Seven of them. Every one of them were taller, fit, males. That gang was more of a melting pot, really. There were blacks, whites, Latinos, and everything in between thrown it. That group wasn't any different. He went straight and turned left into the parking lot of a liquor store and parked in the light, making sure his colors were exposed to the men that stood across the street.

He tucked his hand gun into his waistband and slipped a couple sets of brass knuckles into his front pockets. The stuff with the guns and those other goons that him and his buddy mowed down in that field was just business. Was it messy? Fuck yeah it was. Was it a message? No. That wasn't a message. This was going to be though. Here he was. By himself and deep into rival gang territory. Here he was about to beat to death a group of people. Why? Well. It would send a more meaningful message than a strongly-worded letter. For damn sure.

He lit a cigarette and climbed out of his car and leaned up against it. In the parking lot, you could clearly see the car and the flag on it. He smirked when he noticed the group of men beginning looking back and forth at each other and talking and pointing at him and the car.

"It's about time they fucking noticed me." He thought to himself.

When he was sure he had their attention, He threw up a couple gang signs and finished with a couple middle fingers. His grin widened when he saw them tying their bandannas around their faces and power-walking across the street towards him. He slipped the brass out from his pockets and waited.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Nigga?! You little fuckin' bitch, do you know who the fuck we are?" One of them shouted, inches away from Jason's face. The smell of cheap liquor rolled out of his mouth with every word.

The rest of the group surrounded him, each one gripping a knife or a bat or other blunt object. Standing a few paces behind them were a couple of girls. Most likely some hang-arounds looking for some thrills with the other side of the law. Each guy looked the same-just with a palette swap. They were all wearing just about the same shit though. Baggy pants that hung off their asses, over-sized tee-shirts, and shoes and gold chains, watches, and whatever the hell else.

And here Jason was. His boot-cut black jeans, steel-toe boots, and fitted black v-neck. His hair and light beard were unkept and wild as per usual. And here he was, surrounded on all sides by the enemy. Those poor bastards.

"Yeah. I know who you are." He grinned.

"You better wipe that shit eating grin offa your fuckin' mouth before I shatter your fuckin' skull!" The man shouted again.

Jason looked around and quickly analyzed his situation. The girls in the back were whispering back and forth between each other about how "he's gonna get stomped" and other things along those lines. He licked the inside of his cheek.

"C'mon guys! Seven on one? Hardly seems fair."

The man pulled a switch blade from his pocket and flicked it open and waved it in Jason's face.

"Well, These streets ain't fair. And you've come to the wrong one, nigga."

"No, no. I meant it's unfair for you guys." He laughed.

The men stared at him a moment before joining Jason in his laughter. After a moment, they settled down.

"No, but seriously," Jason wiped a tear from his eye. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you all now."

Jason threw a quick left jab at the guy standing in front of him, shattering his cheekbone, orbital, and breaking his nose. He followed up with a powerful right straight. He connected squarely with the center of the man's forehead and he fell back with blood leaking from his face and began twitching. The suddenness of Jason's two-hit combo caught them all off guard The girls stood in shock and disbelief.

Jason cracked his neck as a wide grin spread across his face. "Who's next?"

At once, he was swarmed. He ducked, dodged, bobbed, and weaved every swing. He grabbed one of the guys and threw him into a couple of the others, making a gap large enough for him to hop through. One of the gang members swung on him with a decent sized pipe. Jason ducked under the head-level swing and stomped on the side of his knee, snapping it with a wet crunch. He grabbed the arm of the guy and flipped him, bouncing his head off of the pavement. He stomped on the mans shoulder, fell into a kneeling position, and snapped his elbow over his knee. The guy screamed the whole way down. Jason pulled the man up, gripped the top of the guy's head in his right and the bottom in his left, and torqued it. He dropped the body.

Jason turned to face the rest of the gang members and caught a right hook to the jaw from one guy and a slash near his collar bone from another.
He rode the force of the punch and redirected it; spinning in a 360 and connecting a powerful kick to the back of the man's head. He fell to the ground with a smashed skull- just like the first guy; and just like the first one, blood poured from his nose, mouth, and eyes and he twitched uncontrollably. He carried his momentum and kept the spin going and smashed his knuckles onto those of the guy that slashed him. The force being channeled from his body, into his brass knuckles, and onto the closed-and-packed fist of another male created a satisfying fountain of gore. He smacked his temple with his other fist and he dropped.

Two more of them rushed in. One went low for Jason's legs, the other jumped up and aimed a kick for his head. He caught the head of one of the guys behind his knee. The other one- he smashed a fist into his femur, shattering it. He fell to the ground screaming in pain and Jason swung wildly at the head of the man between his thigh and calf. He stopped after the seventh strike and finished the other male with a powerful windmill kick to the base of the skull.

That left only one guy. He was undeniably the largest of the group in both height and mass. He towered at least a full foot over Jason's 6'1 height and looked like someone cut up a bull and packed him with the meat. Why he didn't jump in, Jason didn't know. He didn't care. He was kinda glad he didn't. If he grabbed hold of him, there was no way he was getting out of it. He isn't Superman after all. He's just good at killing things. Really good.

Jason looked the man up and down. "So, you're all that's left here, huh?"

The man said nothing. He just grabbed his sledgehammer and began swinging at Jason. He ducked the swing and delivered two strong blows to both sides of the mans chest. The larger man booted him back and knocked him to the ground. He rolled out of the way of a downward swing. He missed and shattered the ground where Jason's head once was. Jason took the opportunity to kick at the giant's knee. It didn't snap but it caused the man enough pain to stumble and shout. He slammed a fist into the same knee. He stood behind the larger man and slammed his fists into the guy's back until being blindsided by a huge fist to the temple. He wasn't knocked out but he was on his ass and dazed. The guy picked him up by his neck, slammed his head into the ground once, and picked him up again. He slammed his forehead onto Jason's and held him at arm's length.

The left side of Jason's forehead was split as was his lip and he had some road-rash on his cheek. Blood leaked from his wounds and trailed down to the hand of the man holding him up.

"Fuck you, too." He wheezed and jammed a switchblade into the forearm of the larger male.

He shouted in surprise and pain and threw Jason through the liquor store window, knocking over a few shelves. He growled as he pulled the blade from his arm and threw it down in disgust. He grabbed his sledgehammer and climbed in through the broken window.

"How's it feel knowing that you're about to die?" He laughed as he prepped the hammer on his shoulder.

"I have no idea." Jason spat out a mouthful of blood and sat himself up against one of the fallen shelves.

Jason pulled his .45 from the back of his waistband and fired two rounds into both of the man's kneecaps and one into his gut. The hollow point rounds ripped through his body and he dropped to his knees. He screamed in agony and clutched his abdomen.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jason rose to his full height and dusted off any glass he had on his body. He kicked the larger man under the chin, planting him on his back. He pressed his boot firmly against his chest and aimed his .45 squarely at the man's head. "Any last words?"

"Go to Hell."

Jason squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out and a round ripped through the head of the colossal man. The bullet tore out the back and left a puddle of blood, bone, and brain on the tile.

"Sorry. Didn't catch that."

He climbed out of the window and walked back to his car. He opened his door and noticed the females that walked up with the group of men he had slaughtered. He glanced out at his handiwork and then back to the women. There were only three of them. He fired four shots. He had three bullets. He had a thing about killing women and children. He didn't like it. But he didn't like leaving witnesses either. That they were.

"We're calling the fucking cops!"

Jason turned back to them...he cocked the hammer.

_
Hey guys. I'm sorry I'm not around much. I rarely find the time to do anything here anymore but I try. So. Here's another chapter for you guys. I know it's all Jason and pretty dark but this'll set up the rest of things to come. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

-Fury