What goes around comes around (IzukuxJiro)

Karma's Debt

"You are not a true hero. Die." Stain says, raising his katana over the brother of Ingenium as Native cries out in either fear or rage. 

"You can't really talk, motherfucker." My sharp voice cuts through the din as I slam my bat into the man's gut, slamming him into the brick wall of the alleyway. My metal bat, covered in welded-on bolt heads and nuts, which is more than heavy enough to break bones, especially with my strength, now rests on my shoulder, as I tap my foot. 

Stain gets to his feet, and looks me over as the hero-in-training and the pro do the same. I'm dressed for combat, as I tend to be. Black, long-sleeved shirt. Black combat pants and boots. Black combat gloves. All of it fit perfectly to 5'7" frame, which is packed with toned muscles.  Graphene armor I stole from a hero agency. Strong enough to stop a .50 Beowulf. On my chest plate, a large red symbol. Two interlocked rings with the kanji カルマon it in the center. Karma. My name. On my right hip, FN-57, chambered in 5.7. A rifle round in a pistol cartridge. On my left, a combat knife, with a 8 inch, Damascus steel blade. 

"Karma....what are you doing here? Protecting the heroes?" Stain asks, getting to his feet, albeit shakily. He tightens his grip on his sword as he looks at me. 

"You know why. You know my stance on attacking children. No matter how old he is, he is still a child." I reply, keeping my eyes on Stain as he begins to circle me. 

"He's a hero in training. Why should you care how old he is?" Stain snarls, and I sigh

"You attack people at random, and with little reason Stain. Ingenium, despite some of his flaws, was a true hero. You're too blinded by your ideology to see that just because people aren't All Might, they aren't false heroes. You need to see that." I say, moving my bat to a more defensive position, gripping aluminum chunk of metal with both hands. 

"Well then. It seems we are at an impasse. Too bad. I liked you. Die." Stain says, charging me, and swinging his katana at me. But I've seen him fight enough times to know it's a feint. Smacking the blade away with a gloved hand, I slam my bat into his other arm, which was swinging a knife at me. I hear the bone shatter, and he drops the blade, snarling in pain. Not giving up, he swings his sword again, but this time I block with with my bat, rip my pistol out of it's holster, and shoot his foot three times, blood flying in the air. As he hisses in pain, I headbutt him in the place where his nose should be, making him stumble. 

Swinging my bat again, it connects with his katana arm, and another nasty crack echoes through the air. Stain howls in pain as he drops his sword, stumbling away from me as I drag my bat on the ground, the sound of metal scraping against asphalt tearing into the air. 

"Chizome Agakuro. AKA Stain. AKA Stendhal." I say, my voice calm and collected, yet carrying a razor's edge all the same. 

"No....no. Don't do that." Stain says, his voice fearful. Within good reason. 

"You have committed crimes against the citizens of Japan, and humanity as a whole. You have failed yourself, and it's time to collect on your debt. Goodbye, Stain." I say, then slam my bat into his skull, knocking him unconscious in a single blow. Blood leaks from a cut in his skull. If he dies, so be it. Not like I care. 

"You....you just killed him!" The brother of Ingenium shouts, as I look down at his, his blue hair stark in the dim light of the alleyway. 

"He's not dead yet. He may be soon, but that's not my issue." I reply, holstering my pistol, and picking up Stain's chipped katana. Walking over to the unconscious serial killer, I remove the saya, or the scabbard of the katana, from his back, and strap it to my own, then sheath the blade. I'm gonna have it repaired, in all honesty.