#138 The Returned Terrorist
Clunk!
"Prisoner 1027. Meal time."
"Oh! Food!"
As the meal slid through the small slot in the door, the man locked in the narrow solitary cell lit up with delight and grabbed the tray. It held rock-hard bread that could crack a skull if thrown, some murky soup whose ingredients were a mystery, and sour-tasting salad—that was it. But the man devoured it all, scraping the tray clean like it was a feast.
"Smack... I could eat more."
His jaw was buried in a thick beard that hung down to his collarbone from lack of shaving, but he even swept the stray drops of soup from it with his hand and licked them off. Dark City had several prisons, but the one this man was in was South Prison, the most infamous among criminals.
South Prison's notoriety stemmed from various reasons, but the biggest was that it was a facility dedicated solely to villains. Villains possessed superpowers, making them impossible to control with ordinary methods. So Dark City had poured massive budgets into turning South Prison into an impregnable fortress from which inmates couldn't escape until their sentence ended.
The latest unmanned surveillance system developed by Sanctuary Corp blanketed the entire facility. Step one foot out of your designated zone, and lasers would instantly drill holes through your body. Villains were always fitted with restraints around their necks, wrists, and ankles. These detected superpower usage and exploded automatically. Heroes stood guard in shifts, three sides were surrounded by ocean making escape all but impossible, and even if you miraculously plunged into the sea, it was monster territory. Ocean monsters weren't merciful enough to let intruders roam free.
Thanks to the enormous manpower and funding, not a single villain had ever successfully escaped South Prison.
"Ugh... Still hungry..."
The man, unsatisfied with the meager portions, began licking the tray clean. That's when he spotted the message etched where the soup had been.
"The time has come, comrade."
"Finally."
Wikaido Vinden, the man who spotted the message, grinned as he kept licking the tray until the words vanished.
*****
That night, one of the prison guards brought someone to Vinden's cell.
"Now's the time, comrade."
"Thank you, comrade. And good work, comrade."
"No problem. Please spread the word of God far and wide, comrade."
"Of course, comrade."
The man the guard brought looked identical to Vinden—wild, tangled hair and a bushy beard. From tonight, this man would take Vinden's place as prisoner 1027 and serve out the remaining sentence.
As the man entered the cell, Vinden followed the guard. Surveillance cameras lined the halls, but every one was dark. Seeing them all off, Vinden gazed at the guard ahead with eyes full of reverence.
'This man is the fruit of Project 203!'
The biggest challenge for a terrorist group was always manpower. Constant brainwashing was needed to ensure only the almighty god filled their minds. Cultivating fanatical devotees who followed only divine words was incredibly tough.
The easiest method was kidnapping kids before their sense of self fully formed, then brainwashing and training them into adulthood—but that took massive time and money. And even after all that effort, most died on their first mission or got nabbed by heroes. Years of investment wasted after one use.
Terror groups agonized over how to properly utilize talent and launched countless projects. One was the man before Vinden's eyes.
Project 203 involved infiltrating South Prison, the infamous villain lockup, with group members. Since captured operatives usually ended up there, they disguised members as guards to swap prisoners and recycle them—like now.
Of course, Project 203 was no easy feat. South Prison guards were former or active heroes. They had to truly infiltrate as heroes.
Ten years after Project 203 began, it finally bore fruit.
"First, wash up, shave your head bald, and clean-shave, comrade."
"Understood, comrade."
Vinden followed the guard to his room and used the prepared clippers and razor to shear off his hair and beard. The shaggy man vanished, replaced by a clean-cut one. Hair and beards made great disguises.
Click!
Click!
Click!
Once the haircut and shave were done, the guard unlocked the restraint around Vinden's neck and handed him fresh clothes.
"Follow me, comrade."
"Yes, comrade."
The guard led the reborn Vinden out of the prison. No one noticed the prisoner swap.
*****
I grabbed the cash, gold bars, jewels, and such from the vault and headed to the Hero Bank in District 7.
"Huh. So that's the Hero Association."
I marveled at the grand Hero Association building across from the Hero Bank.
"Most of 'em got their asses handed to them by me."
A massive screen on the building cycled through images of the Hero Association's boasted S-rank heroes. White Knight, Jenaraider, Tough Guy—I'd beaten them all. Worthless shits.
"Welcome... uh?"
The guard at the entrance greeted me, then froze in confusion.
"Hey, isn't that guy...?"
"Nah, can't be. Hero Association's right there..."
Others who'd spotted me started whispering.
"Hmm."
Should've ditched the mask? Nah, with nothing to hide, I'd strolled in bold as Steel Armor. People eyed me suspiciously.
"Do I need a number ticket?"
"Y-yes... uh, yes."
Beep!
I took a seat with my ticket and waited. Folks sighed in relief.
"See? Told ya."
"Yeah, real Steel Armor wouldn't just waltz past the guard."
Soon they ignored me. I flipped through a magazine to kill time. Damn, weekend crowds.
Tap tap!
"Huh?"
Something poked my arm. A snot-nosed kid stared up at me, bubble dangling from his nose.
"Mister! Mister!"
"What?"
"Are you a bad guy, mister?"
"Me? Why would I be?"
"There."
He pointed to the wall plastered with villain wanted posters—including mine.
"Hah! Yeah, I'm Steel Armor! Rawr!"
"Hee hee hee!"
I spread my arms playfully, and the kid burst out laughing.
"See? Just cosplay."
"Yeah, Steel Armor wouldn't hit a bank."
People who'd been watching chuckled and murmured.
"Ma'am, mind if I play with him a bit?"
"Oh? Sure."
"C'mere, kiddo."
My number was far off, so I figured I'd entertain the brat to pass time.
"What's your name, kiddo?"
"Alex! But I'm not a kiddo!"
"Oh yeah? Not a kiddo means you're a grown-up?"
"Yeah! I'm Mommy's bodyguard!"
"Whoa, you know 'bodyguard'? Alex ain't no kiddo—he's a grown-up. Cool!"
"Hee hee hee!"
Alex beamed at the praise. I pulled tissues from my pocket and wiped the snot bubble.
"Grown-ups don't walk around with this. Kids tease ya. There, snort!"
"Hnnng!"
"..."
The tissue was soaked. What kinda snot volume...? This kid for real an adult?
"Alex, if you're a grown-up, you listen to Mommy good, right?"
"Yeah! I listen to Mommy!"
"Really? Hey ma'am, does Alex listen well?"
The smiling woman watching us turned stern.
"Nope. Told him no candy at night, but he sneaks it and rots his teeth. Then cries he won't go to the dentist."
"No way?! For real, Alex?!"
"Th-that's..."
"No kidding! Sneaking candy, bawling at the dentist—Alex, you're no grown-up, you're a kiddo!"
Dentists scare me too. That whirring in your mouth—terrifying.
"No! I'm a grown-up!"
"Okay, so what should grown-up Alex do from now on?"
"Umm... no night candy, go to dentist..."
"Right! And obey Mommy. Study hard too. Promise me?"
"Yeah!"
"Whoa, promise made! Alex, you're a real man. Awesome!"
"Hee hee hee!"
Alex grinned wide. While playing, his mom's turn came. I kept him company till she finished.
"Thanks for watching Alex. C'mon, Alex."
"Yeah! Bye, mister~"
"Bye, Alex. Be good~"
I waved as he grabbed her hand and left. Cute kid.
"When's my turn?"
Damn, still a ways off.
*****
Thirty more minutes, and finally my turn.
"I'd like to store this."
I handed the bag of cash, gold, and jewels to the teller.
"Store it? May I have your name?"
"Steel Armor."
"Pardon?"
"Steel Armor."
"...?"
"...?"
The teller stared blankly. I stared back blankly. What? Can't understand Korean?
"S-so your name is... 'Steel Armor'...?"
"Yes."
"Uh... one moment?"
She searched the computer, then said,
"Um... no registration under Steel Armor?"
"Figured."
"Pardon?"
"Joking. Try Fabre Nobre?"
Fabre Nobre. I'd told Jungbo to snag an identity from a Hero Bank client to hide mine—he brought Fabre Nobre's.
"Haha... got it."
My joke bombed; she looked awkward as she typed it in. Her face was like an employee's forced clap at the boss's lame dad joke—kinda depressing.
"Mind if I change it to Steel Armor? Planning to legally soon."
"...Sorry, can't change without official name change. Come back after?"
"Tch."
No dice.
"Confirmed. Items to store... oh my."
Her eyes bulged opening the bag. Liquidated, it'd be at least five million dollars. Gold alone was fifty kilos.
"Th-this way, sir?"
"Ahem. Yes. Lead on."
Noticing her changed gaze, I cleared my throat and strutted after her.
She led to the VIP room.
"Wait here a moment?"
"Sure. Oh, any cocoa?"
"Cocoa? Ah, yes."
Bank cocoa hits different. Makes you gassy as hell.
*****
"..."
"..."
As Steel Armor followed the teller into the VIP room, a group of men entered the Hero Bank.