"Do it." His voice was ice-cold.
The greasy man shook his head frantically. "Bro, we need to run! There's too many of them—we can't win this!"
Nine men against thirty? Unless they were elite soldiers, that was suicide.
But what happened next left the greasy man completely dumbstruck.
The tattooed man clenched his fists, the blue dragon inked on his arm twisting to life. With a violent push of his legs, he launched himself straight into the crowd like a bullet.
Bare-handed, one man against thirty.
"Arrogant fool!" the leader bellowed. "Brothers, take him down!"
"Yes, sir!"
Dozens of burly men, muscles bulging and eyes wild, roared like beasts and charged.
In the blink of an eye, the tattooed man's lean frame disappeared into the mob.
His eyes glowed a fierce violet, his grin dark and twisted. A wave of chilling energy poured from his body as his fists flew in every direction, striking anyone who came near.
His power was monstrous, his movements unpredictable. The thirty-plus attackers couldn't get the upper hand—several were already sent flying through the air.
The greasy man's jaw dropped.
"When the hell did Big Brother get this strong?" he muttered, then snapped to his senses. "Come on, brothers! If he's fighting, we can't just stand here!"
"Yeah! Let's get 'em!" shouted the scarred man, eyes flashing.
The others roared in agreement, charging forward to join the brawl.
At that moment, the tattooed man slammed one fighter aside—only for another to grab him from behind.
"I've got him! Hit him, now!" the man shouted.
The tattooed man sneered, grabbed the man's arm, and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the asphalt. The man howled in agony.
Crack!
The tattooed man's knuckles popped as he swung another crushing punch into the man's chest.
Two more brutes lunged from behind, grabbing his arms and trying desperately to restrain him.
But with one violent twist, the tattooed man flung them both away like rag dolls. They smashed into a nearby car, setting off its alarm in a blaring chorus.
The pause gave the others time to regroup. More men surged from all sides, surrounding him again like a tidal wave of muscle.
Any ordinary person would've been overwhelmed long ago. But the tattooed man was anything but ordinary.
A dozen of them tackled him, locking onto his body, trying to pin him down and pummel him.
"Let me go!"
The tighter they held, the more feral he became.
He let out a guttural roar, exploding with raw power, throwing everyone around him to the ground. His clothes were torn to shreds, but he didn't care—he dove back into the fray like a wild beast.
Seeing their boss fight like a demon, his men's morale skyrocketed. Fueled by adrenaline, they threw themselves into the chaos, fists flying in a frenzy.
Inside his car, the middle-aged driver watched in shock, his mouth hanging open.
"What the... hell… is that thing?!"
BOOM!
A deafening crash echoed as the tattooed man grabbed a terrified brute like a child's toy and slammed him onto the roof of a car. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The tattooed man climbed onto the car roof, his violet eyes burning as he looked down on the trembling crowd.
"You can't beat me… heh," he said with a chilling grin.
The leader gritted his teeth, rage flooding his face.
"If you've got the guts, come down here! We'll smash that smug face of yours!" he shouted, pointing furiously.
He refused to believe this freak couldn't be taken down.
The tattooed man's muscles tensed, veins bulging. "Then I'll kill you," he said coldly.
He leapt from the car, diving straight at the leader.
"Stop him!" the leader shouted, stumbling backward. "Don't let him get close!"
He knew exactly what this monster could do. If the man got within arm's reach, it was over.
Only their sheer numbers had kept them standing this long.
More than twenty men surged forward, throwing out every technique they knew—turtle fist, mantis fist, karate, judo—swinging wildly at the tattooed man.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each impact sent a body flying. One after another, the men crashed into parked cars, collapsing in heaps like dumplings dropping into a boiling pot, unmoving.
"You're the only one left…" The tattooed man cracked his neck and gave the leader a twisted smile.
"Please… please don't kill me! We didn't know who we were dealing with! Big brother, I'm begging you, let us go!"
Sensing danger, the leader immediately dropped to his knees. A wise man knew when to bow his head.
"Too late," the tattooed man said in a low, hollow tone.
He raised his scarred fist and drove it toward the leader's face with terrifying force. If that punch connected, the man would be dead or maimed for life.
At the very last moment, the tattooed man froze—his entire body suddenly enveloped in a shimmering, transparent bubble of water.
The leader's eyes went wide. Without hesitation, he turned and bolted toward the SUVs, fleeing for his life from the monstrous figure.
Inside the watery prison, the tattooed man let out a guttural roar and slammed his palm against the bubble, sending violent ripples through it.
"Cuz! Wake up!" Gwen shouted as she cast her water magic, struggling to keep him restrained.
The tattooed man stopped, a flicker of clarity surfacing in his eyes.
He clutched his head in pain, writhing on the ground. "Ghostfreak… get out of my body!"
But within seconds, his eyes turned violet again, and his voice twisted with madness.
"You think I want to stay here? To me, you're nothing but a prison… a prison!"
As his words echoed, the tattooed man ripped apart the water bubble and lunged straight at Gwen.
"Ah!" Gwen gasped and stumbled back, but he caught her by the wrist.
"Look, Lucian! I'll make you watch as your sweet, innocent Gwen is killed by your own hands!"
A murderous glint flashed in the tattooed man's eyes as he reached for her throat.
Suddenly, a rope looped tightly around his neck from behind.
"Grandpa, quick! Tie up Cuz Lucian!" Ben yelled, straining every muscle as he pulled the rope tighter.
He couldn't let his out-of-control cousin hurt their nerdy cousin.
"Good work, Ben!"
Grandpa Max moved fast. In a few swift motions, he wrapped the tattooed man up like a cocoon and tossed him to the ground.
The tattooed man thrashed wildly, but the ropes held firm.
"Save your strength. That's reinforced nylon. Unless you've got superhuman power, you're not breaking out of that," Grandpa said confidently.
The tattooed man's expression twisted into something feral, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
"Cuz, come on, wake up! Snap out of it! This isn't cool!" Ben shouted, leaning close to his ear, calling out to Lucian again and again.
Earlier, Lucian had seen someone bullying the weak. He'd turned into Ghostfreak, intending to punish the thugs in secret without causing a scene. That was why he'd possessed one of the gang members' bodies.
But things had gone horribly wrong.
After Ben's relentless shouting, the tattooed man's breathing began to slow. Gradually, his eyes cleared.
Then, his body went limp. A pale, ghostly figure rose from within him and hovered in the air.
Looking down at his spectral hands, Ghostfreak rasped, "This… isn't good~"
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Suddenly, the Omnitrix on his chest started to flash. Ghostfreak's eyes narrowed, and he shot off toward the Rustbucket...