Talon's HP: 4
To Hit: 17 (crit)
Damage: 9x2=18-1=17 (death)

Talon moaned as he released another cum shot straight into the hero's mouth. It wasn't as big as his last one, but it felt just as good. His eyes fluttered gently as he prepared to accept his death.

But then she spoke, letting him know that she would be turning him in to the authorities. He intended to protest, but before he could say anything, a sound wave pulsed through his head, stopping him short. Everything went black, but he held on to a sliver of consciousness somehow. There was no way he would allow himself to be thrown in jail. He would rather kill this hero right now, or be killed by her. But he had no energy left to manifest his quirk.

He groaned, feeling around the ground for anything he could use as a weapon. His hand finally wrapped around something smooth and rounded. Probably a discarded glass bottle. He took a breath and threw a strike upward. The bottle slammed into something and shattered. When he opened his eye, he saw the tomboy clutching the side of her head, blood dripping down her face and hand.

“Sorry, hero,” he groaned as he rolled to his hands and knees. “I refuse to be captured.” He brandished the broken wine bottle in her face, its sharp edges glistening in the moonlight. “You should've made that final attack of yours fatal,” he said with a grim tone before plunging the broken glass into the side of her neck. He twisted the bottle, making sure to sever her jugular. Her eyes momentarily widened with shock and fear before going dull.

And then it was over. Talon's body collapsed right next to the fallen young hero. Her lips were parted in surprise, some of his cum dribbling out. He had done it. He had survived the encounter and rid the world of a false hero. The price he paid was substantial, but he decided that it was worth it.