10. Dark Hero, Nocturne
10. Dark Hero, Nocturne
Choked and struggling in mid-air, I realized once again, with painful clarity, the identity of this pitch-black entity gripping my collar.
Dark Hero Nocturne.
Her origin, now a classic, was famous enough that even non-comic fans knew it.
Her real name was Alice Dorothy.
She was the sole heir to the Dorothy Family, one of the top three conglomerates in the United States.
Raised with an abundance of love from her family, one day she went to volunteer at a charity foundation run by her family, following her parents.
On the way home after spending the whole day volunteering at a facility for healing drug addicts, a drug-addicted prostitute pointed a gun at her parents with trembling hands.
The prostitute held out her hand, asking for money to buy drugs, but instead of giving her money, her parents gestured for her to go to the drug rehabilitation facility in the back alley—and the prostitute just pulled the trigger.
Her parents died instantly on the spot, and the young girl, who sat in the pool of her parents' blood and witnessed that entire horrific scene with her own two eyes, became a vengeful spirit blinded by revenge from that day on.
As she grew up, she struggled with all her might to drive out all kinds of disgusting scum—homeless people, drug addicts, criminals, prostitutes—from the city where her family had lived, using both legal and violent methods. She lived receiving infinite support from the establishment and infinite hatred from the poor—until, at one moment, she realized something.
That it was her own family, her own parents, and herself who were creating the darkness of the city.
From that day on, Alice transformed into a philanthropist, working hard to drive out poverty by day, and wandering through the darkness to punish criminals by night.
As the sole heir to a massive conglomerate, she poured all of her immense wealth into developing all sorts of cutting-edge equipment and perfected fighting skills that far transcended human limits.
And she began to hunt villains, prowling the streets at night.
The problem was her hunting method.
Nocturne had a no-kill policy, so she didn't kill people directly.
But that method of "not killing" was far more terrifying than death.
She would beat villains until they were half-dead, no, almost on the verge of death, and then cut off one of their limbs or break their spines, leaving them with permanent disabilities.
As if that weren't enough, she would permanently brand her symbol onto the faces of the unconscious criminals using a heated special alloy.
Criminals who had to live the rest of their lives as cripples with burn scars on their faces would later beg the police or other heroes, shedding tears of blood, to just kill them instead.
Because of that ruthless and cruel violence, she was a figure so extreme that even Mama Butcherer would click her tongue, calling Nocturne a truly cold-blooded, crazy bitch.
'In fact, the drug-addicted prostitute who shot her parents in the alley that night was none other than Cheshire herself, who had traveled back in time from the distant future to create her own enemy, Nocturne.'
I knew the terrible truth that Cheshire had caused a time paradox, completing the cycle of eternal hatred and madness.
But at this point, with my neck being choked, who cares about that kind of comic book lore?
"Cough, cough......! W-wait a minute!"
I shouted, desperately scratching at her solid gauntlets while hanging in mid-air.
The cold, skull-like glow of her goggles, flashing from behind her mask, was staring at me as if to pierce right through me.
It felt like a red-hot branding iron was about to pop out from her waist and be stamped onto my forehead at any moment.
"It's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding! Cough! I'm just a local laundry shop owner!"
"Don't lie. I saw that lunatic walk out of your shop earlier today with my own eyes."
A cold, sharp voice that sounded like it had a mechanical filter hit my ears.
"Besides, right after she made contact with you, she appeared in a new suit made of special bulletproof material she never wore before. Because of that, my trap didn't work. If you aren't the exclusive gear maker who provided that equipment to Cheshire, then what are you?"
"No! I'm just a guy who makes clothes for anyone, hero or villain, as long as they pay!"
At my desperate scream, the force of Nocturne's grip loosened slightly.
I didn't miss that opening and poured out excuses, veins popping in my neck.
"She threatened to kill me, what was I supposed to do? Plus, it's not just Cheshire! I made Spark's bulletproof suit, and that pitch-black tactical vest Mama Butcherer wears is my work too! Please, believe me!"
As the names of other heroes and specific information about their new costumes spilled from my mouth, the sharp, flashing glow of Nocturne's eyes wavered slightly.
Like a vigilante from a conglomerate with excellent intelligence capabilities, she seemed to already be aware of the fact that the equipment of the recent back-alley heroes had noticeably upgraded.
A moment of silence passed.
She stared intently at my face in the darkness, weighing something, and then she loosened the grip of the hand holding my collar.
Thud.
I tumbled ungracefully onto the cold asphalt floor.
"Cough! Cough, huff......!"
A dry, emotionless voice fell over my head as I clutched my throat and coughed, trembling like an aspen tree.
"......My apologies."
She seemed convinced that I wasn't Cheshire's exclusive collaborator, but just a neutral civilian technician who made equipment for money.
With the sound of her cape fluttering, she turned her body into the darkness.
I barely managed to calm my trembling legs and prepared to push myself up from the floor.
A sense of relief washed over me that I had finally escaped this terrible misunderstanding and saved my life.
However, Nocturne's footsteps, which were about to leave the alley, suddenly stopped dead.
'What. Why again.'
I held my breath and hunched my body.
She turned around completely and walked back toward me, looking down at me as I sat on the ground.
"You. Do you know who I am?"
"......Of course I know who Nocturne is."
At the sudden question, I reflexively swallowed dry saliva.
How could I not know?
She was the worst nightmare of the city's criminals and one of the top 3 most famous superheroes in the world; there was no way I wouldn't know her.
"Hmm."
Having confirmed my answer, Nocturne seemed to show a hint of satisfaction from behind her goggles.
She crossed her arms and said in a confident tone.
"Good. Then make me a new uniform too."
"......Excuse me?"
I let out a stupid sound, wondering if I had heard wrong, but she didn't care about my reaction and started rattling off her requirements.
"My physique is 175cm, 34-28-35. The existing Kevlar bulletproof vest is decent for impact absorption, but the joint mobility is lacking. Make it with a material that provides perfect stab and bullet resistance while being flexible enough to handle the movements of martial arts. There's no need to make a separate helmet for the face, this is enough. Oh, and."
She pointed to the cape that dropped loosely behind her back.
"On the back, attach a tattered black cape that looks like a ghost, with ends torn into multiple strips."
"......Personally, I think capes are unnecessary for hero costumes."
"I know it's not practical, but it's a symbol. A symbol of justice, of fear. Understand?"
"......Understood. Since it's layered, if I add bulletproofing to those parts, it should be able to stop large-caliber rounds."
"Good. Make it exactly like that. How long? A month?"
"......Two days is enough."
"Hmm, so you really are a superpowered individual."
"H-how did you know—"
"I was only suspicious, but thanks for confirming it yourself. You're weak against psychological warfare after all."
What kind of situation is this?
A dark hero who was trying to choke me to death just a moment ago is ordering her own combat suit as soon as the misunderstanding is cleared up.
As I stood there with my mouth half-open, stunned, Nocturne turned away and muttered to herself very quietly.
"Because I can't be dressed worse than that crazy bitch."
With that mutter, her silhouette soared beyond the distant night sky along with a grappling hook fired toward the heavens.
I sat on the cold alley floor, blankly looking up at her receding trajectory.