Veritas emerged from the subway station, blinking against the faint glow of the restored streetlights. The city, once a familiar landscape, now felt alien beneath the cloak of his newfound doubt. The oppressive darkness within mirrored the disquiet churning in his gut.
The villain's words echoed in his mind, a chilling mantra: "Seek the hidden records, the whispers of the past." But where to begin? Veritas knew the city's official archives, meticulously maintained by the hero organization, wouldn't hold the truth he craved. Lies wouldn't be stored on well-lit shelves, readily accessible.
He needed to delve deeper, into the city's underbelly, where whispers of the past might still linger. The Black Market, a sprawling network of illegal trade, seemed the most likely place to start. Information, after all, was a valuable commodity, especially forbidden information.
The walk to the Black Market was a sensory assault. The air thrummed with a chaotic mix of shouting vendors, haggling customers, and the rhythmic clang of makeshift workshops hidden in crumbling buildings. Veritas navigated the throngs of people, his hand instinctively gripping the villain's insignia tucked in his pocket. It felt like a talisman, a connection to the truth he sought.
He finally reached his destination – a dimly lit tavern, its entrance obscured by a tattered awning. Inside, a motley crew of smugglers, scavengers, and fringe informants huddled over flickering lamps, their hushed conversations punctuated by the clinking of glasses.
Veritas felt a flicker of unease. He didn't belong in this den of secrets, yet here he was, a lone figure seeking answers in the shadows. He scanned the room, his gaze falling on a wizened old woman hunched over a steaming cup of something dubious-looking. Her weathered face was etched with a map of wrinkles, each line a story waiting to be told.
Taking a deep breath, Veritas approached her table. "Excuse me," he began, his voice barely a whisper above the tavern's din.
The woman looked up, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Lost, are we?" she rasped, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind.
Veritas hesitated. "I'm looking for information," he finally admitted. "Something… something hidden."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Information doesn't come cheap, boy."
Veritas reached into his pocket, pulling out a few scavenged credits, the only currency he possessed. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
The woman studied the credits, then him. "What kind of information?"
Veritas took another deep breath. "Anything about a memory wipeout, a century ago. Anything the official records wouldn't tell me."
The woman's gaze grew even sharper. A flicker of something akin to recognition crossed her features, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Memory wipeout, eh?" she scoffed. "Sounds like something out of a drunkard's dream."
Veritas' heart sank. Was he chasing a phantom, a story fabricated by a dying villain? He couldn't afford to give up yet.
"There has to be something," he pleaded. "Anything at all."
The woman drummed her bony fingers on the table, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and conspiratorial.
"There are rumors," she began, leaning closer. "Whispers of a forgotten library, buried beneath the hero organization's headquarters. A place untouched by their sanitizing touch, filled with the echoes of a forgotten past."
A spark of hope ignited in Veritas. "A library? Where?"
The woman's lips curved into a sly smile. "Knowledge like that doesn't come for free, boy. But I can point you in the right direction, if you're willing to help an old woman in need."
Veritas stared at her, torn between his thirst for truth and the inherent risk. This wasn't just about information anymore; he was becoming entangled in a dangerous game. But could he turn back now? The weight of the villain's words still pressed on him, a dark truth demanding to be unearthed.
"What do you need?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse.
The woman leaned even closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's a data chip I need retrieved from a heavily guarded warehouse on the outskirts. The hero organization wouldn't want its contents to see the light of day. If you bring it back, I'll tell you everything I know about the forgotten library, and how to access its secrets."
Veritas considered her words, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. He was venturing deeper into a world of shadows, but the promise of the truth was a powerful lure.