Check and Coco, Hero Rescue Operation (3)
"Welcome? You call this a welcome?"
I'll just kill ya outright. Check snarls, baring her teeth viciously.
As if he'd heard every word, No. 13's voice crackles hastily from the speaker beyond.
[...Just kidding, kidding. As expected of a hero—you're incredible. I never dreamed you'd wipe them all out in under ten minutes.]
[I wanted to test how useful my subordinate's ability would be against real heroes. Needed some guinea pigs.]
That's his excuse? Check's eyes bulge even wider, her glare turning downright feral.
[...Cut me some slack. I never imagined someone with that kinda power could take down the 7th Squad's vice-captain. Think of it as a little harmless fun.]
"And now I'm comin' for ya to snap your damn neck—hope you'll see that as harmless fun too, huh?"
[Sorry. I really am.]
A sigh-laced voice drifts from the speaker.
[Anyway, Check, you're here for Club, right? I swear on my life, there's nothing else prepared. Just grab her and go. Doesn't look like you're in the mood for chit-chat anyway.]
"If you really wanted to talk, you wouldn't have pulled that stupid stunt."
[Eh, even if I hadn't, we weren't gonna have a nice conversation from the start. Right, Check?]
"...You know it."
She'd never had any intention of seriously talking with some two-bit villain. The second she laid eyes on him, she'd rip his throat out.
[Here's the location. I'll say it once, so listen up.]
No. 13 gives the spot where Club is being held. Looks like she's not on this first floor, but somewhere upstairs. And No. 13 himself doesn't seem to be here either.
"Huh, spilling it pretty quick. Thought you'd make me work for it more."
[The 7th Squad vice-captain scares me plenty, but getting on that Rahe captain's bad side? No thanks. So I'll stay out of your way—just take her and scram.]
With that, the speaker cuts out in a burst of static.
Without hesitation, Check heads off in the direction No. 13 described over the speaker.
No. 13 watches her from hidden cameras scattered throughout the factory, ones she can't see. But he misses her fiddling with her comms device, up to who-knows-what.
Thud... thud...
Check marches onward through the factory once more. She bounds up the stairs without a second thought, striding boldly down crumbling corridors. Unlike Coco, who's dodging cameras and traps with caution, this is reckless bravery bordering on suicide. Her steps scream confidence—like no trap or collapsing hallway could touch her.
Watching her, did No. 13 realize any tricks were pointless? Or was he telling the truth—no more traps set?
She'd passed at least three prime spots for an ambush, but nothing happened. Her gait might look reckless at a glance, but Check's veteran instincts had her on guard at every danger point. The anticlimax leaves her almost disappointed.
Well, cheap tricks don't work on the 7th Squad vice-captain anyway. If he'd figured that much out now, maybe that villain wasn't a total lost cause.
-Head to the third floor and take the right corridor. The room at the end of that hallway.
'Third floor. Right corridor, all the way to the end.'
She reaches the room he mentioned and throws open the door.
Beyond is a small, empty space littered with shattered glass and wooden debris.
No sign of Club. Instead, an unexpected figure stands there.
"Check?"
"Spade?"
Standing in the middle of the cluttered room is Spade—another from the 7th Squad, and the only other junior besides the kidnapped Club.
To confirm neither was a fake, Check and Spade exchange code phrases. They even reveal their mana colors for double verification.
Villains use all sorts of abilities too, including ones specialized in disguise or transformation. But the Spade in front of her doesn't seem like some costumed fake.
She nails the code phrase response, and her mana glows the signature red.
Spade confirms Check is real the same way.
"Spade, weren't you on patrol? Supposed to sit this op out entirely."
"Yes, that's right."
Spade explains hesitantly, detailing what happened. While on patrol, an anonymous message hit her—an terrorism warning with hostages, luring her here.
"So you came here without reportin' it?"
"...The message said contacting base would mean the hostages' deaths. Just in case."
"You idiot."
It screamed suspicious. No clue who sent it or if hostages even existed—and she waltzes into a sketchy building like this?
Check could get flak for barging into an unvetted site too, but she'd planned for contingencies and cleanup. Not like Spade, rushing in on some random patrol ping without a thought.
"Smells like that guy's handiwork... No. 13. No idea what he's scheming."
"Uh, so is Club here too?"
"If he's plannin' to bury the whole 7th Squad here, maybe."
He could've blown the building without waiting for Spade. So what was his game? Why lure her here? Was she even in the building? Or was it all a lie, and she's elsewhere?
No way to know. With Coco scouting the basement, they'd have to wait for her report.
"...Oh, and Spade."
Check turns to leave, then pauses abruptly.
Spade responds to the sudden call, puzzled.
Without looking back, Check continues.
"Tone down that kill aura you're leakin' everywhere, ya fool."
Shing—clang!
A knife hurtles at Check's back. Without turning, she conjures a staff in an instant and casually bats it away.
"Tch...!"
Spade clicks her tongue and retreats. The knife in her hand shatters from that single clash.
Check's staff whirls in a smooth circle with a whoosh. In the cramped space, the long pole moves like flowing water, never snagging.
"Gonna tell me what's goin' through your head?"
"......."
No answer from Spade. She tosses the hilt-only knife and draws telescopic batons from her belt—one in each hand—aiming them at Check. She's raring for a fight.
Check has a ton of questions. Things to verify. Above all, she wants to wring out whatever connection Spade has with that damn villain.
But she shelves the chit-chat. This isn't the time.
Check doesn't waste words in standoffs like this, weapons drawn and killing intent clashing. A hundred words can't beat the thrill of battle.
Villain or hero interests? Irrelevant to her.
Awakeners chosen by constellations all carry unique mental compulsions, dubbed 'complexes'. Club's is 'need for recognition', Spade's 'self-sacrifice'. Each has their own.
Check's is 'battle lust'. She craves the scent of violence, thrives in the fray. Even against allies—or a far weaker junior.
Fight? Perfect. No need for reasons or causes. Just one unforgivable sin:
'If you're gonna die easy, I'll kill ya for real.'
'If you're bare your fangs at me, do it right.'
Check grins ferociously, teeth bared, unleashing a wave of battle intent that crushes Spade's killing aura. She charges straight at her.
In the abandoned factory's tight confines, Check and Spade—the two heroes—clash.
"It's started, huh."
Same building, some basement room. In the empty underground space, No. 13 sits on a rickety pipe chair, watching the scene on a tablet.
Slumped and bound in a chair beside him is Club.
The tablet shows split-screen views of various areas. Thanks to Dorothy's cameras planted everywhere, he can monitor most spots directly.
He's zeroed in on Check and Spade's fight.
This wasn't the original plan. Ideally, he'd hit them with brainwashing keywords before they even entered, turn them into puppets on the spot... toy with them a bit, brainwash lightly, and send them back with Club.
But Dorothy's visit two nights ago changed his mind. She'd grabbed his collar, berating him.
It broadened his narrow view. Don't just clear immediate obstacles—think ahead, she'd said, or so he interpreted.
So he overhauled the plan. Since he was trapping heroes anyway, why not test Advisor puppets against top-tier ones first?
'Advisor's ability normally summons two or three puppets from shadows to control freely.'
'But with my buffs, she can pull way more.'
That's how they held the department store despite short numbers. Only about twenty puppets then, but now? Several times that—tested the limit at just shy of 100.
But Check's recent scrap showed more numbers meant sloppier control. Useless against skilled heroes.
'Advisor's power isn't combat-suited anyway. Arm the puppets all you want— she's still puppeteering.'
Valuable data: Don't use Advisor directly in fights.
Good, good. Next data collection: Spade.
She's buffed to the max with No. 13's help. How far can enhanced Spade push against a league-above vice-captain? What cards does she hold?
Creeeak—
"......?"
A faint presence. Like a door opening. But when No. 13 looks up, nothing's changed. Door's shut, room holds only him and bound Club.
Mistake, he thinks, refocusing on the tablet.