An FBI agent met Asher and Gold Boxer at the small terminal after they disembarked the plane. Leading them into a large, black SUV, they departed the airport while the agent briefed the pair on their accommodations.
"The Nepalese Mafia, eh? Yeah, you don't want to mess with those guys," he asked towards the backseat as he drove. "You two will be staying at two prefabricated farm houses by an abandoned cornfield. Chickpea Junction has a permanent population of about 13 people. Your nearest neighbors are over 6 miles away."
"Sounds good, I feel safer already," Asher smiled.
"Now because you have a registered superhero with you, the nearest law enforcement agent will be about 20 minutes away," the agent continued. "But I'm sure the Gold Boxer will be more than a match for anyone coming after you. Otherwise, we will routinely patrol the area with drones. My name is Agent Perkins, and if you need anything else, call me at this number."
Handing a business card back to the paramedic, the black-suited man continued along the road in silence. After about an hour of driving, after swerving down a dusty, country road, the SUV eventually began to pass several farm houses, before hitting a sign reading "Chickpea Junction". Driving down yet another bumpy trail, they eventually arrived at a pair of quaint, wooden cottages that seemed to have sprouted out of the ground adjacent to an old, arid cornfield.
"There we are, home sweet home," Agent Perkins whistled as his two passengers got out of the car. "Your facilities are equipped with running water, electricity, and have been stocked with a wide assortment of food and beverages. Supplies will be dropped off once a week, but if by chance you need anything else or want to request changes to your diet, then both houses are equipped with a LAN line that connect directly to an agent's phone. Most likely mine. We are in an connection deadzone, so cellphones likely will not function anyway. Now, any questions?"
"Can we bring girls over?" Gold Boxer laughed, playfully elbowing Asher. "Nah, I'm just kidding. Thank you, sir, I'll keep a watchful eye on this one. No one comes close."
"Alright, then I'll leave you to it," the agent nodded. "We have you scheduled here for 4 weeks, but if anything changes, I'll be calling that LAN line so be aware."
With that, Perkins got back behind the wheel, reversed, and turned back down the road. Whistling, Gold Boxer put his hands on his hips and approached one of the cottages.
"Dibs on this one," the hero snickered as he carried his bag into the small, wood/stone structure. "Let's get settled in, rest up if you need to, and I mean hey, I'm down to hang out whenever if you want some company."
"Yeah, yeah that would be nice," Asher nodded as he carried his own bag into the neighboring cottage. "Did you bring stuff to do while you're here?"
"I'll probably just work out a bunch, but I also brought about 12 sappy romance novels," the hero replied as he rubbed his chin. "I mean some call them 'erotica', but hey, that's my tastes. What about you, you going to be sitting there bored?"
"Hardly, I brought my Ps2 and my copy of Crossword Quest," the young man grinned. "And if I get bored of that, I'll just draw. I haven't had time to break out the old sketchbook for a while."
"Cool, well holler if you need anything. Especially if you're in danger," Gold Boxer explained as he opened the door of the small cottage and walked inside. "Good night."
"Night," Asher replied as he opened the door of the second building and slid inside.
The quickly-setting sun dropping the whole clearing into darkness, Asher switched on the light as soon as he walked in. The cottage was very quaint looking, having all the fixings of a studio apartment. A small kitchen area, a living room area, and then a twin sized bed in the corner. Truly a small but comfortable-looking farm house. The property was surrounded by woodland, and apart from the cornfield, the surrounding foliage gave it a very closed-in feeling. For Asher, however, it was reassuring.
Setting his bag on the table, the young man went through the kitchen and found some boxed mac and cheese, one of his favorite struggle meals. Heating some water up on the stove, Asher indeed felt more secure. His troubles in Graveport felt worlds away already, though it wasn't long before his mind was on Priya. He wouldn't be sleeping next to her warm body that night—but at least he wouldn't have to worry about a certain superheroine invading his privacy either.
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Back in Graveport, Clive Rand arrived at the abandoned warehouse that Passion Princess had called him to. It was still surreal for the veteran cop to be working with a heroine of that caliber, but the partnership was integral to his plan. While Asher was miles away in hiding, the detective intended on leading Passion Princess on a wild goose chase searching for the supposed villain that led to her "lover" needing to run away in the first place. So far, he was somewhat fearful at her endless determination.
"Hello? Passion Princess?" Clive called into the darkened warehouse as he stepped inside, before switching on his phone's flashlight and nearly jumping at the blood splatters across the walls.
"I'm in here, Detective," the heroine replied.
Following the sound of her voice, Clive rounded a corner and found an office area at the back of the warehouse. Heading into an illuminated room, he gasped at spotting a bloody, bruised man with three heads protruding from a trio of snake-like necks, slumped over in the corner. The blue-costumed hero was hovering over him, her red gloves splashed with maroon blood.
"Holy cow…is that Hydrafuse?" the detective asked as he leaned in close to the trembling mutant. "We've been looking for him forever."
"P-please, help me," one of the man's three heads begged, each one topped by a bowl cut of blonde hair, and his bare, muscular chest ripe with bruising and bleeding while his camo-colored green pants were torn up.
"He was running an illicit storage center of sorts in here," Passion Princess explained with her hands on her hips. "All kinds of crime and drug cartels seem to have stashes somewhere in this building. Dream Syndicate, Farrow Bros, the Nepalese and Eritrean mafias. I figured maybe he was the one threatening my sweet Asher, so I was trying to beat the truth out of him. He's damn lucky I didn't put much strength into my hits either, otherwise he'd be looking like his friends out in the warehouse."
"Okay but Passion Princess, interrogating criminals like this is going to be bad for your public image," Rand argued with a grimace. "Christ, it looks like you were straight up torturing the guy. I'll book him, but you should probably get out of here."
"But do you think he's the one threatening my boyfriend?" the heroine asked, now hovering over the detective as she stared at him through hollow blue eyes. "I'm really, really starting to miss my Asher. Please, if this scumbag tells you anything, let me know."
"W-we'll be in touch," Rand nodded as Passion Princess blasted through the ceiling, leaving the disheveled cop to deal with the cleanup.
"What the fuck was that?" Hydrafuse groaned as he tried to move, before wincing in pain as a cracking sound could be heard from his ribcage. "I thought that bitch was going to kill me. That's not how heroes normally act."
"And unless you want to die, I suggest you keep your mouth shut about what she did to you," the detective warned as he backed out of the office. "I'll cuff you when I get back, I just want to check out this warehouse of yours."
Walking down the hall, Rand entered the warehouse floor and switched on the large set of industrial lights. He nearly had a heart attack in reaction to the carnage.
The bodies of numerous gunmen were strewn about the many storage bins and wrapped pallets—completely torn apart. Some were still bleeding with large gaping holes in their chests, while others lay in the middle of bloody splatters as if they'd been thrown into the concrete floor at super speed. Others yet were simply ripped in half."
"W-what the hell…" the veteran cop stammered, in awe of what presumably Passion Princess had done. While in great control of her superpowers, the heroine did have a 20% kill rate for the criminals that she took down, although it was always in self-defense. What Clive saw in that warehouse, however, looked more like a massacre, an indication that the lovesick superhero was getting more and more irate at not being able to find the one she was pining for.