The Crow-Izuku Midoriya (Izumomo ver)

III: Revenge

The 9mm bullet spun slowly upwards through the air before descending down into the dark cave of Grape's mouth.

"Heh, that's good", said the smart looking man sitting on his left, his voice matching his face. Kira looked on in further admiration as Grape, downed his whiskey shot in one fell swoop before letting out a yelp as it went down. "Whoo! See if you can top that, man. Can ya?"

The man he was talking to, none other than F-Bird, slowly placed his bullet on his tongue, showing off with a comical eye-roll before taking it fully into his mouth. "Here's to Devil's Night, my new favorite holiday", he toasted, downing his own shot and following it up with the ashes of his put-out cigarette on his tongue.

"God, are you outta your muthafuckin' mind, man!?" Judas Priest asked, horrified and impressed at the same time, smoke billowing from his clenched teeth. Kirishima gave his friend F-Bird an admiring look – they'd been friends before the gang formed, Kirishima treating F-Bird like a big brother – before he raised his own shot and promptly had it smacked back down to the table by Judas Priest. Then Judas Priest threw down his own gunpowder medicine and alcohol without even taking the time to let things settle in between. "Pussies drink last, man", he chuckled to Kirishima.

But Kirishima wasn't in a laughing mood, and he bolted to his feet, turning his hand to stone and leveling it at the man's head. "Fuck you, Judas Priest!"

"Hey..." Judas Priest let the exclamation linger as he slowly rose to his feet, drawing one of his bayonets and holding it against the homely man's throat. "That shit ain't even tough, man."

"This one is", Grape cut in, aiming his sticky ball at Tin-Tin's cheek.

Bolting up straight, F-Bird held Kirishima's hand downwards while aiming his own at each of them in turn, "Which of you Motor City motherfuckers wants to bet me this one isn't!?" He held the readied fire at them a second longer before..."Hey! Fire it up! Fire it up!" The rest of the gang joined in their own chanting ritual, thrusting their arms with their words as Grape's girlfriend, a buxom blond-haired beauty named Mitsuki, came over with some more shots after slapping F-bird in the back of his head.

"Here's your shooters", she said in a soft, voice while setting the serving tray down. "no quirks, huh guys?" They'd been thrown out of worse places for less, but they did as she asked, greeting Mitsuki with a general air of politeness. As much as they could manage, anyway, with Judas Priest running the tip of his tongue against Mitsuki's exposed shoulder as she shared a deep kiss with Grape.

"Hey, come on, man. None of that right now", F-Bird said as he nudged Judas Priest's shoulder. "We can have fun on our own anyway – don't you have some more scum-bags to carve down?"

Judas Priest straightened up to look at F-Bird, a glint in his eyes and a dark smile below that. "I can always find some. But I got some quick scratch to make first, chief", he said darkly as he departed from the club, leaving Grape and Mitsuki to do what they would, F-Bird and Kirishima heading into the bigger part of the building where a rock concert was gong down.

It was down a long stretch of road, but it was the only pawnshop that Judas Priest actually trusted with what he picked up from the gang's nights of fun. It also helped Dio's Pawn Shop in both of their favors – he sold Dio his stuff, Dio gave him just enough money to count as good, and he stayed protected by the gang and their boss. It didn't stop him from being a rough smart-ass with all of them, though.

Judas Priest pulled the door open with all the politeness of a rhino, the bell clanging around the walls stacked with disused musical instruments, cans of gasoline, and the front shelf that contained various used guns and knives. All he wanted was the shit he had off of his hands and he back on the street, ready to cut someone down.