Masked Duo (1)
They had no superpowers. They weren't superpowered.
"Then how the hell did they rip people apart?"
"Huh?"
Titan Pipe stared at me with a baffled look from the side, but he wasn't important right now. No superpowers—how the fuck was that possible? My head was spinning.
"...Titan Pipe."
"Yes, Boss."
"Keep those fuckers alive no matter what. Don't lay a finger on them. If they say they're hungry, feed 'em."
"Keep 'em alive?"
"Yeah. If even one of those bastards kicks the bucket, you're dead too. From now on, you're in the same boat as them. Got it?"
"...Understood."
Titan Pipe shot me a shit-eating grimace. From his perspective, he probably wanted to off those three pains in the ass who'd been hassling him. But those guys absolutely could not die.
"And clean up the factory before dawn."
"Huh? This factory?"
"Yeah. Make it look like nothing ever happened. If there's even a hint of anything off, you're dead by my hand. Off to America, you go. Got it?"
"Y-yes..."
After barking orders at Titan Pipe, I hopped into my car. It was well soundproofed from the occasional car sex romps with Yuna or Elis. I dialed Memory Hunter.
"Memory Hunter."
"Steam users. What the fuck are those guys?"
"Don't play dumb—answer straight. Those fuckers have no superpowers, so how'd they pull off that kind of monstrous strength?"
"A few of my underlings popped Steam and went apeshit in my turf. Caught 'em, but... these bastards don't have superpowers? Yet they tore people apart barehanded like they were goddamn polar bears. I'm curious as fuck how that's possible."
"'Cause I'm dying of curiosity here. So spill it. If you do, I'll go all-in helping you nab the Steam maker."
"Heroes can't break the law during investigations. I'll handle that shit. Point me at a suspicious building, I'll storm it and tear it apart. Anyone giving you grief? I'll fuck 'em up. And I've got plenty of underlings—I'll lend 'em out. Deal?"
Memory Hunter went quiet, probably mulling it over. I didn't pull my usual hang-up prank this time—just waited for him to think. A beat later, he spoke up.
"Cool. Head to District 80 now."
As expected, Memory Hunter took the bait. The guy's an anti-hero through and through—radical as fuck, famous for walking the razor's edge between legal and illegal in his investigations. With my help, he wouldn't need to tiptoe anymore. He didn't give a damn about cat colors, just like me.
While waiting for Memory Hunter, the sun rose, brightening the dark world bit by bit. Time had flown by. Soon enough, word came that he'd hit District 80, and I brought him in.
"So this is your drug factory."
Memory Hunter eyed the place before stepping out of the car. He smirked like he'd caught me red-handed with my weakness, so I shrugged and shot back with a grin.
"Think this is the only one? I've got 'em in every district I run. Officially, it's a cement plant. Unless you wanna turn into cement yourself, stay the fuck away."
"....."
Memory Hunter glared daggers. I flashed him a toothy smile and handed over a mask with a cute bunny character on it.
"You weren't planning on going in barefaced, right? My guys might just shoot you on sight."
"...Fuck."
He snarled a curse and yanked the mask on. Damn, he looked like a total cute middle-aged dude now.
"Cute Hunter."
"I'll kill you!"
"Kekekekeke!"
And just like that, Memory Hunter and I became the masked duo.
*****
"Tch. Another bust."
Memory Hunter clucked his tongue after reading the bald triplets' memories and heading back to the car. But it wasn't a total wash.
"Distributor's coming tomorrow—or tonight, technically?"
"Yeah. That's why my guys are busting their asses cleaning the factory right now."
I crossed my arms and nodded. When the guy who'd suggested selling Steam together showed up, I'd neck-slice him first thing. Daring to feed this shit to my underlings? You're fucked. I'd interrogate the bastard hard and reel in the whole chain above him.
Reading my mind, Memory Hunter shook his head.
"Catching that guy won't help."
"What? Why?"
"You think we haven't nabbed distributors? We've grilled a few who peddled Steam, investigated every one. But it dead-ends there. No bodies higher up."
"Still, someone supplied him with Steam, right?"
"They communicate via burner phones that can't be traced. Drop the goods in buildings, mailboxes, subways—distributors pick 'em up. Locations change every time. Those guys are just pawns."
The Hero Association had way more intel than me, as expected.
"Huh. Well..."
I mulled over his info, brainstorming. If they're pawns, how do I hook the big fish? Brain, do your thing!
A moment later, an idea hit.
"Then we don't catch the guy."
"What?"
"Let him go. He'll contact them again eventually for more goods. We get the pickup spot ahead of time, ambush it."
"Won't work. They drop the stuff then tip off the distributor."
Another "no dice" from Memory Hunter. But I wasn't pissed. It just meant the Association had trial-and-errored the shit out of this trying to snag the boss.
"Can't approach as people... Then go in as the goods. Hero Association analyzed Steam, right? What's the status?"
"Results aren't back yet."
"What the fuck, Hero Association?! So goddamn incompetent! Can't catch the crooks, can't even analyze it! How the hell are you supposed to keep Dark City safe from villains?!"
"What?! You think we want to let 'em slip?! What are we supposed to do about manpower shortages?!"
Memory Hunter vented why the Hero Association was short-staffed. Recent major incidents had piled up, and the Hero Bank heist by that terrorist group had cracked public trust big time.
"...Gotcha. Can't be helped. Calm down. Why snap at me? You got anger issues or what?"
Most of those incidents? Either me or tied to me. Kinda felt bad.
"Haa... Shouldn't have said that."
Memory Hunter sighed, turning to stare out the window. I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Anyway, I'll take a personal crack at Steam."
"You? How?"
"Hey, looks can be deceiving—I'm the goddamn godfather slinging drugs across ten-plus districts. Liquid form or not, I know this scene inside out. One poke and I'll figure it."
"...First psycho hero I meet who straight-up calls himself a drug lord."
"That's my charm."
"Shut up."
*****
After splitting with Memory Hunter, I showed Ji-na the Steam while she prepped for work.
"This the hot new drug going around?"
"Yep."
"Ugh...! But why's it this color? Looks like green juice. Totally gross."
Mint choco's worse, but... ahem!
"Anyway, why this?"
"Sanctuary Corp's got a chem division, right? Wanted them to analyze it."
"This? Why?"
"Well..."
I explained the night's chaos, and her eyes went saucer-wide.
"This gives you superpowers?"
"Yeah. Oh, but it's not actually superpowers."
"What? What the hell does that mean? It creates superpowers but isn't superpowers?"
"Yep. Sounds weird even explaining it, but yeah. They gain freak strength outta nowhere, speed up too—but no superpowers."
"What the actual fuck."
"Right?"
"So, analyze it and then what?"
"Gotta be some key ingredient, yeah? Whoever made it bought it—or something laced with it—from suppliers. Track those."
The Hero Association was investigating Steam too, but short-staffed, no analysis yet. Sanctuary Corp? Different story. Elite corp poaching Dark City's top talent, backed by tech and cash. Their researchers would crack it quick.
Come to think of it, there was that doc at Sanctuary I tried turning villain once... Who was it again?
When Steel Armor first debuted, I'd targeted some Sanctuary researcher to flip. Plan tanked thanks to that cheeky Ice Queen. Never followed up, forgot the name. Probably fine.
"Anyway, hit me up on this."
"Got it."
"And Ji-na? One more favor."
"What?"
"Suck my dick. While you're at it, my balls too."
"....."
Ji-na decked me.
*****
Night fell, and I hunkered down near the drug factory with bunny-masked Memory Hunter.
"Fuckin' when's this asshole showing?"
"Quiet."
"Bored as shit."
"Stakes are a waiting game. Patience."
"Tch."
I clucked my tongue at super-serious Memory Hunter and eyed the factory. Even Dark City native Titan Pipe didn't wanna go to America—cleaned like his life depended on it. Factory looked pristine, like no massacre happened.
We waited. Past 1 a.m., a longcoat dude with an 007 bag approached the factory.
"Yo, that's him."
"I see him."
The guy smoothly chatted up the bald guards, who soon led him inside.
"Your call—investigation's your wheelhouse. Rush him or wait?"
"...Hold."
"Roger."
We waited till he emerged—bagless, empty-handed.
Told 'em no dealing Steam or die for real—no traitors, thank fuck.
Pre-stakeout, I'd threatened death on any Steam peddlers. They listened.
"Let's move."
"Yeah."
The masked duo tailed him stealthily. He hit the street, hopped into a waiting car.
"Shit! Get the car quick!"
"No time! Hop on!"
"Wha—?! Gah! What the fuck?!"
Before the car peeled out, I slung Memory Hunter over my shoulder and rooftop-leaped after it. Every bound, his gut slammed my shoulder.
"Gack! Urk! Hack! S-stomach...! Easy on the ride!"
"Shut it! Didn't you say stakes are patience?!"
"Goddam—urk!"
I ignored his groans and booked it.