The other Warriors formed a loose circle around the fighting pair as Jiro slowly made his way to his feet. His legs screamed in protest, bruises already flowering across their pink flesh, but he ignored the pain and set his teeth. This is it he thinks. If I don't take him out now, I'm dead.

Without warning, Guardian XIII lunged at him. Jiro barely had enough time to bring his weapon up to defend himself. The bat hit the flat of the blade and bounced away harmlessly.

Then a fiery pain danced across Jiro's eyes. It felt like his skull had been caved in. It seems, while he was busy watching the bat, Guardian XIII's other hand had snaked around his defenses, unseen, to crack him in the side of the head. Jiro gingerly felt the side of his head and his hand came a way red with blood. Brass knuckles... dammit! he thought.

Guardian XIII eyed the wobbling Misfit sternly. “Just a boy.” he spat. “The Misfits are nothing but a bunch of kids. Street punks playing hooky.

“Misfits will run this city one day!” Jiro shouted angrily.

“That may be, but you certainly won't be around to see that day if you keep running into fights out-manned and unarmed. Get out of here, kid, before you really get hurt.” He replied, turning his back on Jiro. The Misfit's dazed eyes lit up at this miraculous opportunity

This is it!

Raising the katana high above his head and screaming furiously, he lunged at the retreating Warrior. Guardian XIII turned and caught Jiro's eye just as they crashed together. Blood flashed across Jiro's vision, and he smiled triumphantly. Then fell to the ground dead, Guardian XIII's belt knife protruding from his chest.

The onlooking Warriors whooped and cheered at their leader's victory. TrollHunter jogged over to the fallen Misfit and sat on his chest, slapping the lifeless Jiro across the face and laughing. Then, without pause, Guardian XIII punched him in the face, sending him sprawling across pavement, and gently picked Jiro up and wept over his dead little brother.