Hercule’s Regular Day in Hell’s Kitchen

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Hercule Satan, now known as Hercule Lucifer, strode through the grimy streets of Hell's Kitchen with a confidence that seemed almost out of place in such a dangerous neighborhood. From the day Nero summoned him to this world, he had thrown himself into his training, determined to make a name for himself. The harshness of his new reality didn't faze him; if anything, it fueled his drive.

"Another night, another challenge," he muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As he walked, Hercule couldn't help but reminisce about the old days. Back in his world, he had been a showman, a martial artist with a flair for the dramatic. Here, he was becoming something more. The training had pushed him to new limits, and he felt stronger than ever. Yet, his brash and boastful personality remained intact, adding a certain charm to his otherwise intimidating presence.

A group of thugs loitered on the corner, eyeing him warily as he approached. Hercule's reputation was beginning to precede him, and he reveled in it.

"Hey, boys," he called out, his voice dripping with mock friendliness. "You gonna make my night interesting, or do I have to find someone else to play with?"

One of the thugs, a particularly large and scarred man, stepped forward. "You think you're tough, old man?"

Hercule's laughter echoed through the alley. "Tough? Kid, you have no idea."

The thug swung a fist, but Hercule was faster. He dodged easily, countering with a punch that sent the man sprawling. The rest of the group hesitated, unsure whether to attack or flee.

"Anyone else?" Hercule taunted, cracking his knuckles. "I've got all night."

They decided on the latter, scattering like leaves in the wind. Hercule watched them go, shaking his head. "Amateurs."

Continuing his patrol, Hercule's thoughts wandered to his new companions. He'd bonded with the others quickly, despite his initial reservations. They were a motley crew, each with their own strengths and quirks, but they worked well together. Nero, in particular, had earned Hercule's respect. The man was a natural leader, driven and strategic, a perfect counterbalance to Hercule's more impulsive nature.

As he turned another corner, Hercule spotted a commotion up ahead. A young woman was being harassed by a pair of thugs. Hercule's eyes narrowed, and he picked up his pace.

"Hey! Didn't your mothers teach you any manners?" he called out, his voice booming.

The thugs turned, their expressions shifting from surprise to anger. "Mind your own business, old man," one of them snarled.

Hercule's grin was feral. "Oh, but making your business my business is just so much fun."

With a few swift moves, he dispatched the thugs, leaving them groaning on the ground. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are you alright, miss?" Hercule asked, his tone gentler now.

She nodded, still in shock. "Thank you. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come along."

Hercule shrugged, offering her a reassuring smile. "All in a night's work. Just be careful around here, okay? It's not exactly the safest place."

As she hurried away, Hercule turned to the thugs on the ground and continued kicking them. "You deserve no mercy, but I'm on my way to charity anyway," he muttered. Grabbing the pair by the back of their necks, he dragged them towards a newly established clinic in the neighborhood.

The clinic, named "St. Sakura's Mercy", stood out amidst the grim surroundings of Hell's Kitchen. It had an unassuming exterior, but those who frequented it knew that it offered more than just basic medical care. The clinic had a reputation for providing free treatment to the needy while exacting steep fees from criminals.

Hercule approached the entrance, where Sokka, the appointed guard, sat casually, carving a piece of wood. He looked up as Hercule approached, his eyebrows rising at the sight of the two battered thugs.

"Bringing in some guests for treatment, Hercule?" Sokka asked, his tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Hercule grunted, throwing the thugs down at Sokka's feet. "More like donations. These two were causing trouble, thought I'd bring them to the saintess."

Sokka chuckled, his carving knife pausing mid-motion. "You know, Sakura's gonna have a field day with this. She loves getting her hands on the troublemakers."

Hercule smirked. "She can send them the bill. They can afford it."

As if on cue, Sakura emerged from the clinic, her pink hair tied back and a determined look in her green eyes. She surveyed the scene, her gaze moving from Hercule to the thugs on the ground.

"Another productive night, Hercule?" she asked, her voice calm yet edged with amusement.

"Always, Sakura," Hercule replied, crossing his arms. "Thought you'd appreciate the company."

Sakura shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know I don't discriminate. Everyone gets treated, even the scum of the earth." She knelt down, her hands began to assess the thugs' injuries.

Sokka watched, leaning back in his chair. "Charging these guys double for the trouble they cause was a good idea, no?"

Sakura glanced up, her expression thoughtful. "Their pockets are deep enough to support this place for months. And the irony of them funding the care for the people they torment? That's a bonus."

Hercule chuckled, his mood lightening. "Always knew you had a devious side, Sakura."

Sakura straightened, her hands now clean of them. "It's not devious, Hercule. It's practical. Now, get these two inside before they bleed out all over my doorstep."

Hercule nodded, grabbing the thugs by their collars and hauling them to their feet. "Alright, you heard the lady. Time for your check-up."

The thugs groaned but didn't resist, their earlier bravado completely drained. Hercule shoved them towards the clinic's entrance, where Sakura and Sokka waited.

"Make sure they remember this next time they think about causing trouble," Hercule said, his voice low and menacing.

Sokka grinned, his carving knife flashing in the dim light. "Oh, seems like they cannot afford anesthetics."

As Hercule turned to leave, Sakura called after him. "Hercule, thanks for the delivery. And try not to break too many bones next time. It makes my job harder."

He waved a hand dismissively. "No promises, Sakura. But I'll try to keep it civil. For you."

Walking away, Hercule noticed a shadow jumping from building to building. The agility and speed of the figure caught his eye. With a grin, he called out into the night, "Hey! You looking for trouble, or just a rooftop marathon?" The shadowy figure paused, crouching on the edge of a nearby building.

Nami's voice echoed back, playful and teasing, "Just getting my nightly cardio. What's it to you, grandpa?"

Hercule chuckled, adjusting his stance to face her better. "Grandpa? Do I look that old to you, little thief?" He crossed his arms, the streetlights casting a dramatic shadow.

Nami leaped down gracefully, landing a few feet away from him. "Old enough to be out of breath just watching me." She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Bold words for someone who just joined the party," Hercule retorted, his voice filled with amusement. "What are you doing in this part of town anyway?"

"Scouting," Nami replied, her tone shifting to a more serious note. "Heard there might be some action around here. Thought I'd see it for myself."

Hercule raised an eyebrow. "Action? You mean like the kind that leaves bruises and broken bones?"

Nami shrugged. "Depends on who's causing the trouble. You planning on sticking around, or just passing through?"

"Stick around? Sweetheart, this is my turf now," Hercule said, a confident smile spreading across his face. "And if there's trouble, I'm the one who'll be ending it."

Nami rolled her eyes. "Alright, tough guy. Just try not to get in my way."

Hercule laughed, the sound echoing off the buildings. "I'll try, but no promises. Just don't slow me down."

As they stood there, a sudden crash echoed from an alleyway nearby. Both turned their heads sharply, instincts kicking in.

"Sounds like our kind of fun," Nami said, her eyes narrowing.

"Let's see who gets there first," Hercule challenged, already moving.

Nami smirked, taking off after him. "You're on, old man!"

The two raced towards the sound, their footsteps a synchronized rhythm on the pavement. Hercule's powerful strides matched Nami's nimble agility, each pushing to outpace the other.

They skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley, where a group of thugs were roughing up a lone figure. The thugs looked up, startled by the sudden arrival.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Hercule called out, his voice carrying an edge of menace. "More gringo with no manners? My job never gets boring thanks to you."

One of the thugs sneered, stepping forward. "Eh, playing hero, old man? Walk away if you know what's good for you."

Nami watched from the shadows, her face obscured by her hood. Her mission was to steal, not fight with thugs. Although she teased Hercule, she knew Nero wouldn't want him jeopardizing her quest.

Hercule stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Mind my business? Your business just became my entertainment for the night." He grinned, the streetlights casting a menacing shadow.

The thug sneered, "Talking big with one foot in the grave?"

"Grave?" Hercule laughed heartily. "I've got more fight in me than you'll ever have, kid."

From her vantage point, Nami rolled her eyes. "You boys really need to work on your insults," she whispered to herself, adjusting her grip on her cloak

Hercule didn't waste any more time. He darted forward, his fist connecting with the thug's jaw with a sickening thud. The other thugs hesitated, glancing at each other before charging in. Hercule moved with surprising agility, taking them down with a series of well-placed strikes.

"You sure you don't want a hand?" Nami's voice carried a hint of amusement.

"Keep doing what you do best, sweetheart," Hercule called back, dodging a poorly aimed punch. "I've got this under control."

Nami smirked, her eyes scanning the alley for any signs of trouble. She spotted a hidden door, slightly ajar. "Interesting," she murmured, slipping through it silently.

Inside, the room was dimly lit and cluttered with stolen goods. Nami's eyes gleamed as she began picking through the loot. "Jackpot," she whispered, pocketing a few valuable items.

Outside, Hercule finished dispatching the last thug, brushing off his hands. "You boys really need to find a new line of work," he said, watching them groan on the ground.

Nami reappeared, her movements as silent as a cat's. "Finished already? And here I thought I'd have to save you."

Hercule smirked, "You're welcome to try anytime, kitty cat. Find anything good?"

"Just a few trinkets," she replied, her eyes twinkling. "Think the Boss will like them."

"He'll appreciate anything that adds to our coffers," Hercule said, his tone turning serious. "Let's take them to the clinic before more of them show up."

As they made their way through the dark streets, Nami couldn't resist one last jab. "You know, for an old man, you didn't do too bad back there."

Hercule chuckled, "Stick around, kid. You might learn a thing or two about real fighting."

"Real fighting, huh?" Nami teased. "I'll keep that in mind next time you're huffing and puffing after a little scuffle."

Hercule's laughter echoed through the night, a rare sound in Hell's Kitchen. "Just wait until the next one, little thief. I'll show you how it's really done."

They went their separate ways then. Nami had already targeted a rich man with lots of shady business. It was time to go big. Shaking his head, Hercule continued his walk.

As Nami slinked into the shadows, her mind was already calculating the best approach for her next heist. She couldn't help but smirk, imagining the look on her target's face when he discovered his precious valuables missing. "Another day, another treasure," she whispered to herself, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Meanwhile, Hercule's stride carried a distinct swagger as he patrolled the darkened streets. "Another long night." 

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