The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend
"Bring me Don Quixote. I have urgent business with him!"
"....."
I gave the order to Don Quixote's underlings. The man standing before me twitched his eyebrows but kept his emotions in check. Instead, the squinty-eyed bastards who didn't recognize me lost their shit.
"That fucker...!"
"Hey, hold it. He's a superpowered guy. S-rank, no less."
"Grr...! If only I had superpowers...!"
Well, well? What a clown. I stepped right up to the idiot who'd spouted that nonsense, and he panicked like he'd never expected me to get in his face.
"You lowly cur, how dare you wag your tongue at me?"
"Uh, uh-uh..."
"What was that? Think your superpowers could kill me?"
"I didn't say I could kill you..."
"Huh? Fie! Behold this ill-mannered wretch! Am I your friend, now? Shall I give you a taste of my fist to knock some sense into that skull?"
"....."
I shoved my fist in his face, and the startled punk stumbled back, glancing around desperately for help. But—
"....."
"....."
"Y-You traitorous bastards...!"
—the others averted their eyes, dodging his gaze. Abandoned by his own crew in an instant, the guy ground his teeth.
"Fie! Your flapping gums are the root of all evil—blaming others for your own faults! No helping it! As a guardian of Confucian virtues, I'll beat that rotten habit out of you today!"
"Eek?!"
I grabbed him by the collar to slap some manners into him when—
"That's enough, isn't it? Didn't you say you had business with me?"
"Hm?"
A man in utterly anachronistic garb came clomping down the stairs. Gaudy, puffed-up clothes straight out of a medieval banquet hall, topped with a massive blue hat whose feather bobbed with every step.
"What brings the infamous villain to my doorstep?"
The man rested a hand on the fencing sword at his hip as he stood before me. He was on the short side, maybe 170cm, but despite his small frame, the moment I laid eyes on him, my gut twisted. It was the same queasy feeling I'd gotten from Dragonian and Giga Elephant.
"Don Quixote?"
"Aye. 'Tis I, Don Quixote."
This was the A-rank villain with 9-level superpowers, Don Quixote.
"I've come with a most excellent proposal for thee."
"An excellent proposal?"
He was the leader of the anti-Jet Stream alliance, to boot—
"Aye. A fine proposal indeed."
—and the perfect piece for my Plan B.
*****
We moved to a more private spot for our confidential chat. Well, "moved" just meant his office, but whatever.
"Liquor?"
"I'll take sungnyung."
"Sungnyung? What's that?"
"No? Then makgeolli will do."
"Makgeolli? And what's that?"
"Ach, how can a place like this lack the basics? Tsk tsk. Just bring the liquor."
"....."
Don Quixote glared at me like I was a pain in the ass, then fetched a bottle of cognac and two glasses. He poured me one.
"Fie! No toast? Thou refusest even that?"
"... Why the hell would I toast with you, someone I just met today? Ha, fine. What're we toasting to, then?"
Don Quixote let out a hollow chuckle, his face saying let's see how far you'll push this as he played along with my bullshit. The guy had patience for days. And it wasn't just because I was an S-rank villain and he was A-rank, bending to raw power. If it were, he'd have knelt to Jet Stream instead of rebelling. But Don Quixote had raised his sword—no white flag—in alliance with villains of similar rank and plight, defying Jet Stream head-on.
"Hm... Our one commonality? Naught but this, I wager."
"Commonality?"
"To the downfall of Jet Stream."
"....."
He offered his glass for a toast, but Don Quixote didn't clink. Instead, he glared, peering into my soul like he was trying to read my mind.
Go ahead, Don Quixote—read my mind!
Ah~ I wanna round up the girls for a harem sex party!
Read away!
"What meanest thou by such words?"
As expected, Don Quixote couldn't crack my thoughts. He drained his glass without clinking, the rude bastard. I matched him, downing mine.
"Just what I said. Jet Stream's done for. Soon as tonight, late as tomorrow."
"Jet Stream falls tonight or tomorrow? Ha! Hyped as the Supernova, and you're just a lunatic."
He dismissed my words as mad ravings. Infuriating, but fair from his view. It'd been two years since he'd forged the anti-Jet Stream alliance. They'd clashed endlessly, but never toppled him. Despite throwing everything at him, Jet Stream's empire stood firm. So yeah, "falls in two days" sounded like bullshit.
"Haven't heard the news?"
"What?"
"Last night, seven of Jet Stream's lieutenants bit the dust."
"... What?"
"And among 'em? Dragonian and Giga Elephant, the trio with Prime Knight."
"Bullshit!"
"Your dog bite you or something?"
"What?"
"Keep calling my words bullshit, and I might turn into a real dog and rip your throat out. Appreciate that I'm being polite right now."
"....."
I laced my words with killing intent, and Don Quixote shut his trap. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mirroring his turmoil.
"Don't think it's a lie. Few calls, and you'll confirm it yourself. No way you haven't planted a single mole in Jet Stream's crew over two years."
"....."
Don Quixote, still glaring, snatched the receiver and dialed. A brief exchange, then he bellowed.
"You fucking dog! Why the hell tell me now? What? That's your idea of a report?! Hang up, you fuck!"
He slammed the phone down, frustration boiling over as he filled his glass to the brim. One shot. Half the bottle gone before he calmed, flushed face turning to me.
"So? What do you want?"
"Tonight, I'll lead my crew against Jet Stream. Join me—with your friends."
"Me? Why should I?"
"Your lifelong grudge right there—gonna sit it out? Or play fisherman while Jet Stream and I slug it out?"
"Eh, latter ain't bad."
Regaining his composure, he answered leisurely. He'd clocked that I needed him.
"Do as thou wilt, then."
"What?"
"But."
I swiped his cognac, poured my glass, and slammed it back. Then locked eyes again—killing intent dialed up.
"Thou shalt not die easy. I hate anyone dipping into my feast. Jet Stream played nice with the surroundings. Not me. After him? You're next."
"Won't be easy."
"No. But won't take long. Cockroaches are tenacious pests. Kill one, more crawl out soon enough."
"....."
"But cockroaches are just that. Keep smashing every one you see, and eventually, they vanish. They'll learn hiding's their only shot."
"You bastard..."
"Hero Association won't interfere. Why would they, when I'm exterminating roaches for 'em?"
"... When do you strike Jet Stream?"
My warning broke him.
"Tonight."
I grinned, refilling our glasses.
"A toast?"
"....."
I offered mine; he clinked silently.
"To Jet Stream's downfall."
"To Jet Stream's downfall."
All the cards were in place. Now, just play the table against Jet Stream.
*****
As I told Don Quixote, I despise anyone poaching my spread. I'd smash their spoon and shatter the pot. Yet here I was, extending a hand to him and his alliance: "Let's kill Jet Stream together."
No choice.
"Fuckin' worthless shits."
"Sorry, boss..."
I (Mark) clicked my tongue at the baldies bowing before me. Behind their soot-blackened faces loomed a burning drug factory. Not just this one—77th and 80th districts' plants were torched too.
76, 77, 80. Three factories gone. Workers and guards dead or wounded.
Perp? Obvious.
"Jet Stream, you dead motherfucker. You're fucked."
While I was offing his lieutenants last night, his goons infiltrated my turf and lit the places up. Tens of millions in damages.
"I'll collect—with interest."
Tenfold, minimum.
"Guy's got solid minions, alright."
Seven lieutenants down, but Jet Stream still had twelve A-rank villains. Wait, Succubus was mine now—eleven. Still, eleven left.
Me? Ji-na and Karinbia as mercs were my only A-ranks. Rest B-grade, clones included.
"No helping it. Yuna, it's your master."
-Yes, Master! I love you, muah muah muah!
"Cute as ever. Let's try 24-hour sex marathon on your day off."
-Eek! Love it, Master! Ahh... Can't wait!
"Anyway, called to ask something."
-Yes! Ask anything! You can even grope my boobs!
"Gonna grope 'em regardless. Heard there's folks opposing Jet Stream—know anything?"
-Opposing Jet Stream... Ah! Don Quixote?
"Dunno the name."
-Probably. Only crew defying him.
"Cool. Spill their intel?"
-Yes! Gimme... one hour!
Exactly one hour later, Yuna briefed me on Don Quixote and his alliance. Six A-rank villains, led by him, locked in a bloody two-year war with Jet Stream.
"Six A-ranks... Solid."
With them, odds were good. Odds meaning my losses, of course. My win was a given.
"Sucks losing turf, but it'll come back later."
Jet Stream held 24 districts. Even if I took 'em all, lack of minions meant others would snatch 'em quick. I was strong, but only five bodies.
Better grab what I could hold firm, let others take scraps, and extend a hand. That was Plan B.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?
Of course—
"They'll never be my friends."
-Unless they're women. No man qualifies.