Masked Duo (2)
The car carrying the man sped along without stopping and soon entered the 59th District.
"Where the fuck are these bastards headed?"
The 59th District was a full five districts north of the 80th. What the hell—why come all this way just to pull some shady shit?
Maybe they're gunning for me.
Did they really need to propose selling Steam together in a spot five districts away? More likely, this was all to take me down rather than just expand their market.
That thought crossed my mind.
"Memory Hunter. What do you think their plan is?"
"..."
"Memory Hunter?"
"..."
"You little shit."
I clicked my tongue at Memory Hunter, slumped over my shoulder like a corpse. Sure, I'd been driving steady and smooth, but come on—who the hell sleeps for almost an hour while I'm busting my ass out here? I nearly chucked him into a river, but I held back. With the patience of the goddamn ocean, I decided to cut him some slack. Weren't there back-to-back major incidents lately? The guy was probably swamped, barely getting any shut-eye. Nice guy like me has to endure.
Screech—!
The car pulled up in front of a club's back door. If they'd passed the 59th, I might've just rammed the damn thing. My reins-holder was busy snoozing, after all.
I watched the man head inside with his goons, then woke Memory Hunter—no, Rabbit Armor. When he's got that mask on, he's not the S-rank hero Memory Hunter. He's my partner, Rabbit Armor.
Hmm! Steel Rabbit. Sounds like a max-level bunny—super badass.
"Hey. Quit sleeping and wake up, Rabbit Armor?"
"Mmm... Rita..."
"Rita? Who's Rita? Girlfriend? Wife?"
Rabbit Armor kept mumbling "Rita" until he finally stirred awake.
"...What?"
"What? You crying?"
"Who the fuck said I was crying?"
Rabbit Armor's shove lacked any real force, and his voice was thick with... moisture. Not that I gave a shit, but seemed like he had his own secrets he couldn't spill to anyone.
"I get you're tired, but snap out of it. They stopped."
"Who said I was sleeping? You knocked me out."
"Knocked out? Oh, shit—"
Crossing five districts, his gut had bounced off my shoulder a bunch from the recoil. Guess that did him in.
"You're such a weakling."
"You little fuck... Sigh. I shouldn't even bother talking. Anyway, where are we?"
"59th District. These pricks are busy bees, huh? Five districts over to pull this crap. And now they've ducked into that club over there."
"I see. Any other escape routes besides here?"
"Hell if I know. Haven't been here long enough to scout. But smart rabbits dig three burrows, right? Probably more than just here and the front door."
"Ho ho."
Rabbit Armor eyed me like I'd said something profound. What? Mood just soured.
"You know stuff like that? Smarter than I thought."
"Fine. Before we fuck up those guys, I'll fuck you up first. Come at me, Rabbit Armor."
"...Rabbit Armor?"
"Yeah, Rabbit Armor. Like it? From today, you're the S-rank villain Rabbit Armor. The kind who drops every enemy in three seconds flat."
"You son of a—"
Hit with words after taking a hit, Rabbit Armor trembled in rage. Kekekeke! Wanna punch me? But you can't, right? 'Cause you're weaker than me...
Thwack—!
Rabbit Armor's fist nailed my cheek. Huh?
"...?"
"Let's go. Gotta check what those bastards are up to."
"Hey, wait. Did you just hit me?"
"Hurry up."
"No, hold on—you hit me! Hey!"
Ignoring me, Rabbit Armor slipped through the back door into the club. That fucker?
*****
We crept inside through the back door.
"Hey, hold up."
"What?"
"CCTV over there. What now?"
"No other way?"
"Nope. Dead end."
"Tch."
Rabbit Armor pondered, smacking his lips. Dodging CCTV's easy, really. Just ditch the obvious "I'm super suspicious" mask and stroll in. My face is unknown, and he could hug my shadow. My build's big enough to hide him.
But fuck that. I'd smash the place before unmasking. The mask is Steel Armor's identity!
"Can you wreck the CCTV before we move?"
He knew that too, so no "ditch the mask" suggestion.
"Easy. Flick a snap, and boom."
Snap? Finger Snap?
Yo~ Long time no see! Thanos bro, been a while!
"Do it."
"Roger."
I jammed fingers into the wall, yanked out a pebble, and chucked it at the CCTV. It spun straight into dead center.
100/100! Perfect shot!
"Done. Let's move."
"Yeah."
We smashed CCTVs one by one as we advanced. Soon, footsteps rushed our way.
"Busted. Now what?"
"Steel Armor?"
"Yeah?"
"Go knock 'em out. No killing."
"...Feels like I'm your minion. Nah, just imagining shit?"
"Didn't you say you'd go all out to help?"
"Mm! Right!"
Oh yeah, I'd promised full effort. Even said I'd handle all the heavy lifting. The nagging "orders" vibe melted away.
I left Rabbit Armor behind and stepped forward alone. Men with axes, knives, pistols spotted me.
"There he is!"
"Kill him!"
"Steel Armor again? Fucking sick of this guy!"
"Steel Armor?"
What's that? Nautilus? Drop anchor?
"Thought they'd run, but they're charging? Not scared of me?"
Sure, this was far from my turf, but I'm an S-rank villain. Yet no fear in their eyes. Whatever.
I smashed fists into the frontrunners, one by one. One punch, one drop—no need for feet or fancy moves. Just swing steadily.
Eight grown-ass men down in under ten seconds.
"Hey, done. Let's go."
"S-rank lives up to the name."
Rabbit Armor, who'd watched it all, nodded in admiration. Damn right—I'm clean and efficient! Gush more! Praise me harder!
"Hey, they called me 'Steel Armor' again."
"Steel Armor? What's that?"
"Right?"
We both tilted heads. What the hell's "Steel Armor"?
(For the record, I learned later it meant "Steel Armor showed up again." How was I supposed to know? Turns out, once I got famous, copycats with similar builds grabbed identical masks and impersonated me everywhere. Even hit this club a few times. Fans crop up anywhere, good or bad.)
"Hey, stairs."
Pressing on, we hit stairs. Up or down?
"You go down. I'll take up."
"Huh? Split up?"
I knew how frail Rabbit Armor was—couldn't help worrying. Lose him here, and I'd forfeit my S-rank straw in the Hero Association. Can't have that!
"Just stick together? You're the weakling."
"You're the freakishly strong one. If I died to shit like this, I'd be long gone. You take bottom."
"Fine. Don't die. Hit trouble? Fire 'bang-bang-bang! Bang-bang!' That rhythm. I'll come running."
"What kinda weird-ass rhythm is that?"
"Weird? Sigh... Whatever. You're dead to the Red Devils now."
Know the 2002 World Cup? Shout "Da~ehan Minguk!" to Koreans, and boom—clap-clap-clap! Clap-clap! But call it weird? Red Devils would bury you.
Anyway, I headed down, Rabbit Armor up.
"Huh? Who're you? How'd you get in?"
"Walked, dumbass. How else?"
"Gurk?!"
I flattened every basement goon in sight. Ransacked rooms—no real clues. Still, swept up booze and drums into inventory, just in case. Infinite storage rocks.
Right as I turned to head back—
Bang-bang-bang—! Bang-bang—!
"Knew it."
Grinning at the familiar beat, I clapped heading up.
Da~ehan Minguk! Clap-clap-clap—! Clap-clap—!
Barkeep! One shot of national pride, please!
*****
Up top was chaos. Some goons had bullets in their foreheads, dead.
"Who's the villain here?"
Me, the villain, sticks to no-kill. But this "hero" doesn't? Reasonable doubt if he's even a hero.
"...Oh right. He's Rabbit Armor now."
Yeah—he wasn't Memory Hunter. He was villain partner Rabbit Armor. I stick to no-kill 'cause I serve Batman vibes, but regular villains? Murder's passive skill. They drop bodies like nothing. Scary fucks.
Anyway, villain Rabbit Armor went full villain, drilling headshots.
Guy might actually be a real villain.
Why'd ace-shooter Rabbit Armor call for help?
"Grrr! Kill!"
"Kyaoooong!"
"Woooaaargh!"
Steam junkies mimicking animal howls. Rabbit Armor crushes normals for XP, but these superhuman freaks? Helpless.
Hm... target bolted?
Our masked duo's mark was MIA.
"Fuck! Where's that goddamn bastard?!"
"That goddamn bastard's here."
"Then block these fuckers quick! Can't hold much longer!"
"Sigh... Said I'd go all out, but you're working me like a dog. Should've just come up bold. Basement was small fry."
"Quit bitching! You're getting revenge for that punch earlier!"
"...Nah?"
How'd he know? Detective-level instincts.
"Alright, beastie buddies? Quit bullying the weak, petty, nasty old perv who loves tormenting folks. Play with the quiet, cool, fucking awesome dog king instead? Uncle turns bad beasts into good pets—the animal world's alchemist."
Even wild beasts warm up quick if you prove harmless. Taming's all about trust.
"Our friend's got a real dog face, huh? Super cool. Total dog."
I praised the guy charging like a pup greeting its owner post-work. For real—that dude looked like a straight-up dog.
"Oh, forgot to intro. Uncle's friend to dogs, dog king—Steel Hyoowook..."
"Grrrrah!"
"..."
Dog-face bit my arm.
"You shiba-shit fuck!"
"Yelp?!"
Cracked his skull hard. Bitch, I'm talking—don't bite!
"Ignore my pure love again, and I go from Steel Hyoowook to Steel Nakamura, you suba-shiba-bitch-fuck! Thanks for the welcome, fucker!"
I stroked his head with all my dog-loving heart.