John entered the hospital where Blessing was admitted, his eyes scanning the sterile environment as he adjusted the strap of his jean jacket. His camouflage was essential—a jean jacket, nose mask, matching jeans, and sneakers—anything to avoid drawing attention. The last thing he wanted was for Blessing to face more trouble because of him.
He headed straight for the reception desk, where a nurse greeted him with a polite, professional smile.
"Good day, sir. How may I help you?" she asked.
"Um... Good day," John responded, his voice muffled by the mask. "I'm here for patient forty-nine, premium ward two." He handed her a card, which she took, her fingers brushing lightly over its surface as she examined it.
She scanned the card, her eyes narrowing slightly as she checked something on the screen. After a few keystrokes, she confirmed its authenticity, then printed a new card and made a quick phone call.
"Hello, visitor for patient forty-nine, premium ward two," she said, her voice calm and efficient. She hung up and handed the new card back to John. "Please have a seat," she gestured to a row of seats nearby. "A nurse will attend to you shortly."
John nodded, pocketing the card as he moved towards the seating area. His eyes swept over the other visitors seated there, all engrossed in their own thoughts. 'Mission accomplished,' he thought with a hint of satisfaction. His camouflage had done its job; the nurse hadn't recognized him. He settled into a chair and waited for the nurse who would take him to Blessing's ward.
Minutes later, a nurse appeared, a tablet in hand. "Visitor for patient forty-nine?" she called out.
John stood and approached her, handing over the card. She skimmed it quickly, nodding as she confirmed his identity. With a gesture, she beckoned him to follow her. They walked together down a long hallway towards an elevator. The hospital's white walls and polished floors reflected the soft overhead lighting, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. The elevator ride felt interminable, each second stretching as they ascended to one of the highest floors—premium wards always demanded patience.
In premium ward two, Blessing stirred from a restless sleep, a strange dream still lingering in her mind. A sudden, overwhelming urge to find Dumi gnawed at her, but the thought of calling John held her back. She sat up slowly, her gaze wandering around the room.
'Premium ward this time,' she thought, the opulence of her surroundings only adding to her frustration. 'What is he trying to achieve with all this?'
"I need to speak to him anyway," she muttered, leaning to her left in a futile attempt to reach for her phone.
"Ha... Weak legs..." she mused, sinking back against the pillows. The memory of that encounter with Dumi flashed before her eyes—how she'd tried to leap over an obstacle, only for Dumi to yank her down, her leg support device failing her in that critical moment. She glanced down at her legs, feeling the faintest twinge of helplessness.
"Don't blame you though..." she whispered.
The door creaked open, drawing her attention. John entered, his disguise fooling no one—at least, not her. The nurse accompanying him slipped out quietly, leaving the two alone.
John's eyes swept over the room before he spotted a chair and pulled it closer to Blessing's bed.
"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice soft as he sat down.
"Fine... Mostly," Blessing replied, her eyes flicking towards her legs. John sighed heavily.
"Well, thank the Father for that. How do you like the ward?"
"Premium ward, really?" she responded, her tone carrying a mix of sarcasm and disbelief.
"Hey, I had to get you the best. Your family's not around to take care of you," he paused, glancing around the room as if searching for something. "They can't know you're involved with Iron Hero."
"Alright..." Blessing murmured, her mind drifting back to the dream she'd had moments ago. "About Dumi... How are things going?"
"Well... Err..." John hesitated, his words stumbling. "She slipped out of my fingers again and, uh..." He trailed off, watching her reaction carefully before continuing. "The police are involved now."
Blessing's eyes widened in shock. She grabbed his shirt, her voice trembling with urgency. "You better get to her first, or they're going to kill her..."
"Calm down... The police said they have orders to bring her in alive."
Blessing's grip on his shirt loosened, but the tension in her face didn't fade. "I still don't trust them... Don't bother meeting Mr. Dere; he'll lie straight to your face. It's better if you visit the police first... Try to get them to inform you if they catch her?"
"Alright..." John sighed, standing up. "You're impossible to figure out sometimes, you know..."
Blessing adjusted her posture, preparing to sleep. "Mm-hmm."
"She tried to kill you, you know?" John added, his voice tinged with concern.
"Life gets complicated when you've seen what I've seen." Blessing turned onto her side, trying to get comfortable. John reached out, his fingers gently brushing through her hair, eliciting a small smile from her.
"You're lucky I'm too tired," she muttered, "or I'd have knocked your hands off."
John smirked, standing up to leave. "Stay safe, ma'am."
"Just go already," she replied, closing her eyes.
John left the room, mentally bracing himself for the elevator ride back down. 'Not again,' he groaned inwardly as he stepped inside, the doors closing with a soft whoosh. The descent felt no quicker than the ascent, but at last, he reached the ground floor. He checked out at the reception and exited the hospital, the cool air greeting him as he headed to his car.
He retrieved a backpack from the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder as he moved to a discreet corner. "Adeola, take the car home, please. I'll take a little detour to see our detective friend."
"Yes, boss."
John walked down the street, blending in with the crowd as his car drove off. He passed by an NPL party rally, the noise and energy of the crowd providing perfect cover. He weaved through the throng, slipping into a narrow alley between two buildings. His backpack unfurled, its fabric enveloping his body and forming his armor.
"Adeola, what are the DPP's approval ratings?" John asked as he raised his arms, allowing the suit to assemble rapidly.
"Seventy-seven point three four percent, sire," Adeola replied promptly.
John stifled a chuckle. "It's amazing they're still trying, considering the odds."
"Humans are complex beings, boss," Adeola mused. "When they want something, they'll fight against all odds to get it—like you, for example."
John's thoughts drifted to Blessing. 'Wait, why did I do that?' he wondered before shaking off the thought. "And is that a good thing?"
"Of course. It's what drives progress and growth..."
John barely listened as Adeola continued, his attention drawn to the bustling crowd below. His suit was fully operational now, the boosters ready to go.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Let's just get to the police station," he cut in, ending Adeola's mini-lecture as he launched into the sky, leaving the rally far behind.
Iron Hero landed with a soft thud in the center of the police station compound, the ground barely registering his impact. His suit hummed quietly as it adjusted to the new environment, his gaze sweeping over the area. As he approached the station's entrance, he could feel the eyes of every officer present on him. Some of them looked at him with awe, while others sent glares that practically burned through his armor.
"Looks like not everyone likes me," he muttered to himself.
Adeola, always tuned into his thoughts, responded, "Obviously. Not everyone likes a rival doing a job better than them. Every little case you solve before them robs them of a chance at promotion."
"That bad, huh," John smirked beneath his mask.
"And… most times they have to clean up your messes. You do tend to use less traditional methods in your brand of law enforcement."
"Well, maybe… but someone's gotta skip the red tape," John replied, his smirk widening.
Adeola projected a shrugging emoji onto his visor, just as one of the officers at the reception desk greeted him.
"Good day, sir. How may we help you?" the officer asked, maintaining a professional tone despite the imposing presence of Iron Hero.
"I'm here to speak with Detective Maiwake," Iron Hero said, standing straight. John wondered how they managed to keep their composure around him, especially given the reputation he'd built.
"I'm very sorry, sir," the officer began, clearly prepared to deny him access, "Detective Maiwake is not ready to accept visitors right now—"
The officer was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Don't worry, let him come." Detective Maiwake's voice cut through the tension.
Iron Hero and the officer turned to see Maiwake approaching, his expression unreadable.
"Iron Hero, follow me," Maiwake said, beckoning him with a nod. He turned back to the officer, adding, "Keep up the good work, and don't let anyone else through."
As Iron Hero followed Maiwake inside, he noticed the officer at the reception shaking his head and heaving a sigh before resuming his vigilant stance, eyes scanning for anyone else attempting to enter the station.
The two men walked in silence up the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. Iron Hero waited for Maiwake to speak, but when the detective remained silent, John finally broke the tension.
"You know you're the one who let her slip from our hands," he said, his voice edged with frustration.
"Well, you went ahead and fired bullets at her," Maiwake shot back without missing a beat.
"Hey, I just wanted to scare her, that's all," John replied, though he knew it was a weak defense. Adeola projected a frowning emoji onto his visor, which John responded to with a mocking look, though he was careful to keep it out of Maiwake's sight.
Unaware of John's internal exchange, Maiwake continued, "I couldn't trust you. You see, I know you were at Damilare Avenue that night, and your partner got stabbed in the process. So, I figured you'd be pissed."
They passed office after office, the long walk becoming tiresome. Finally, Iron Hero couldn't take it anymore.
"Are we going to your office, or are we just taking a tour?"
"We're heading somewhere… just not my office," Maiwake replied, offering no further explanation.
Iron Hero sighed but kept pace as they continued walking. Finally, they stopped in front of what appeared to be a blank wall. Maiwake reached out, and with a subtle gesture, the wall slid open to reveal a prison cell.
"I've got some interesting information for you," Maiwake said, stepping aside to give Iron Hero a clear view. "Dumi is in our custody."
Iron Hero's eyes widened in disbelief. He stepped closer to the bars, peering inside to ensure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Sure enough, Dumi was there, sitting in the cell, her posture tense but resolute.
"How…?" Iron Hero started to ask, his grip tightening on the bars as he struggled to process what he was seeing.
Maiwake interrupted him. "I know, I know you want to know how we caught her, but I can't tell you."
"Why not?" Iron Hero demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Because we didn't catch her," Maiwake said with a wry smile. "She turned herself in. Just walked right into the station, took off her hood, and lifted her hands in surrender."
"And why does that piss you off?" Iron Hero asked, noting the detective's barely concealed annoyance.
Maiwake tried to brush it off. "No, I'm not pissed…"
"You are."
"Yeah, you got me," Maiwake admitted with a sigh. "I was supposed to get promoted for arresting her, you know? But now, since she just turned herself in, I can't lie about it. I've earned my titles fair and square, so I have to give her the credit. 'Too bad to be caught,' right?"
Iron Hero stared at Maiwake as he rambled, wondering how the detective could be so concerned about his career at a time like this. Noticing the look, Maiwake stopped short.
"Sorry you had to listen to me ramble," he said, pulling out a tablet. "Remember this?" He waved it slightly, and Iron Hero recognized it as the one with his prepared presentation from the other night. "Well, you can have it back. I'm sure Adrotech didn't inform you that I found it."
Iron Hero took the tablet, feeling a mix of irritation and gratitude. "Aww… no 'thank you'?" Maiwake teased with an annoying smile.
John gritted his teeth, whispering to Adeola, "Remind me to put a virus in our files next time, to prevent situations like this."
Adeola projected the text "Yes, Boss," followed by an angry emoji on his visor. As they spoke, Dumi noticed the cell door was open. She initially thought it was her time to go to court, but her expression quickly shifted when she saw Iron Hero and the detective. She frowned, then retreated to the back of the cell, squinting slightly as she stepped into the light.
Maiwake noticed the squinting and commented, "Don't worry about her squinting. My guys figured she's sensitive to light. Always turns the lights off—real weird one, isn't she? It's always the weird ones..."
Iron Hero interrupted him, "You questioned her yet?"
Maiwake looked surprised. "Huh, no. We've got to make sure she's stable first. Remember, she's got a kill count of over a hundred. That's enough to scare anyone."
"Just don't think a lollipop's gonna work this time," Iron Hero muttered. Maiwake shook his head in agreement.
"Well, I'm not the one questioning her, anyway. It's her government-appointed lawyer. Though I'll be overseeing the interrogation, and that still scares the hell out of me." The detective clicked a button, and the false wall slid back into place, hiding the cell from view.
"Thanks for the update, detective, but I've got somewhere else to be," Iron Hero said, turning to leave. He headed to the nearest window, leaped through it, and took off into the sky, leaving Maiwake shaking his head as he watched him go.
Dere sat comfortably in his sitting room, eyes fixed on the television as the news played in the background. He glanced toward the staircase, waiting patiently as his assistant descended. The young woman, with a light complexion and a touch of Asian features, was dressed in a sleek black corporate shirt and formal trousers. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she gave a respectful bow.
"Good day, Sire," she greeted.
Dere feigned a frown. "Abeg, Oyin, skip all this formalities jare."
"Very sorry, Dad," she quickly corrected herself, then switched to Itsekiri. "Miguo Baba," she added, kneeling on the floor as she greeted him.
"Mm hmm, now I know say your mama dey train una well…" Dere responded, his smile broadening as he adjusted his agbada.
"How are Omadoye and your mama dem?" he inquired.
"They're fine, sir," Oyin replied as she relaxed, taking a seat next to her father.
"You hear wetin Dem dey talk for news? We don win all of them finish. That thing… Wetin Dem dey call am again, appraisal something something…"
"Approval ratings, Dad," Oyin gently corrected him.
"Ehn hen, how many we dey again?" Dere asked, curious.
She quickly checked her phone. "Umm… Seventy-seven point three per—"
Dere cut her off, a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. "Abeg, give me whole number jor, ah."
Oyin chuckled. "Seventy-seven percent."
Dere smiled, stretching his legs out on the sofa. "Technology... Dem don make this whole thing be like say na exam. No worries sha, we dey." He paused for a moment, as if something had just crossed his mind.
"Ehn hen, speaking of technology… How are things going with that John?"
"He's been very cooperative, si—Dad," she quickly corrected herself, earning a nod of approval from Dere.
"Okay… Schedule a meeting between us. We get some things we gat talk before elections dem," Dere instructed.
"Alright, Dad."
Just then, Dere's phone rang, and Oyin answered it.
"Hello, what's happening?" she asked, her tone casual. But as she listened, her expression shifted, though she tried to hide it. Her father noticed immediately.
"Wetin happen? No worry, put am for loudspeaker make I hear," Dere said, sensing the importance of the call.
Oyin switched the call to loudspeaker.
"Ahh Oga, good news oh! Dem don arrest the assassin oh, and e never finish—Dem say na Dumi oh!" The voice on the other end was almost jubilant.
"Ah, double blessing," Dere said with satisfaction. Oyin hung up and sat back down with her father, her earlier shock still lingering.
"What do you think, make we celebrate? Because she don dey our custody oh," Dere suggested, a pleased smile on his face.
Oyin forced a smile. "I suppose, Dad… Let me go get a few things. We'll prepare for the night." She stood, ready to leave.
"Don't worry, the maids will—"
"I want to do it… specially for you," she insisted.
Dere feigned a childish pout. Oyin laughed, then leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek.
"Ah Baba, you know I don't always get the chance to take care of you. Just give me this."
"Okay, okay," Dere relented, gesturing for her to go. But as she turned to leave, he called out again.
"How una dey say bye-bye again? Anhyeongi... Wetin again?"
"No, Dad, that's formal. You could just say 'Jal ga.'" She waved as she demonstrated, "Jal ga."
"Jal ga," Dere repeated, watching as Oyin left.
"These children ehn," Dere mused to himself, shaking his head as he reached for the remote to find something else to watch. He flipped through the channels until he landed on a gospel program. Blessing was on screen, addressing a large audience.
"Grace is…"
"See this one…" Dere muttered with a mocking expression. "Your turn dey come, I never ready for you, that's why." He continued grumbling as he changed the channel again.
Outside, Oyin hurriedly dialed a number on her phone.
"Is she in your custody?"
"Um, yes," came the reply.
"I'm coming right now," she said, her tone urgent as she hung up.
"This girl's not gonna kill me," she mused to herself, shaking her head as she slipped into her informal vehicle and drove off.
At the police station, Detective Maiwake stood at the entrance, hands buried in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the street ahead. He was waiting for the lawyer who was supposed to arrive earlier, but the minutes dragged on with no sign of the person.
He sighed, muttering under his breath, "Delayed."
Just then, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the boom gate at the entrance of the compound. Maiwake's eyes caught the plate number: 'KOR-YIN.' He watched as the officers at the gate approached the car, seemingly unsure of how to handle the situation. They exchanged a few words with the driver, but it was clear they were hesitant to let her in. He guessed her outfit was sending the wrong vibes—probably raising more questions than answers. Letting out another sigh, he decided to intervene.
"Hey, let her in; she's an acquaintance," he called out.
The security officers exchanged uncertain glances before looking back at Maiwake. He could tell they weren't thrilled about it, but they didn't have much of a choice. Rules were rules, and he was their superior. Reluctantly, they opened the boom gates, and the car rolled in.
Maiwake watched as she parked her car among the other vehicles at the precinct. She stepped out, dressed in a black hoodie and dark glasses, an outfit that made her stand out even more. He knew exactly who she was—this lady who seemed to stroll in whenever she pleased, like she owned the place. 'This lady's here again. She strolls in like some boss and funny part she doesn't even care about my feelings,' he thought, observing her as she approached the entrance. But as she walked past him, heading for the door, he reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Ah ah ah, stop right there, lady," he said.
She halted, turning to glare at him with a look that could cut through steel.
"Sheesh, that burns," he muttered.
"Hey, you know we've not been on good terms since that happened. So quit acting like we're friends," she snapped, shaking her arm free from his grip before continuing into the station. The officer at the reception desk noticed her, raising a hand to stop her, but froze when he saw Maiwake hurrying after her, trying to catch up.
"Hey, come on... You haven't called me for a while, and when you did, you didn't even say hi... Don't you care about my feelings?" Maiwake called out as he finally caught up to her. She remained silent, her pace unbroken. Undeterred, he continued.
"Besides, you don't know her cell."
Her steps faltered as the realization dawned on her. She stopped and turned to face him. Maiwake chuckled softly, sensing the shift in her demeanor.
"I know that you're pissed, but that girl is doomed for a death sentence if she stays here. That's her only chance at survival... And guess what, we get to make tons of cash for that," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of stress as he tried to reason with her.
She fixed him with a flat stare, forcing him to elaborate.
"Alright, alright..." He leaned in closer, whispering, "The secret cell."
"Did you really assert her that dangerous?" she asked, her tone edged with skepticism.
"Yep, that and she's weird... Just like you, flicking lights off and all."
"Oh, it's really her," she murmured, tension evident in her voice.
"That's even how I knew she's the one," Maiwake added, turning to head back to the entrance.
"Hey, you ain't escorting me?" she called after him.
"No."
"Hey, you said you loved me, and you're letting me visit what you technically classified as a feral monster... alone."
"Well, I would have on a normal day, but I've got to wait for her lawyer back at the entrance. And besides, I know you're more than capable," he replied, pulling out some snacks from his pocket and casually popping one into his mouth.
She sniffed, muttering under her breath, "Smug brat," before turning to head for Dumi's cell.
Detective Maiwake stood at the entrance, scanning the area as he waited. An older man approached the boom gate—Mr. Edema. The officers at the gate turned to Maiwake, who gave a slight nod, signaling them to allow the old man through. The officers exchanged a look, mockingly annoyed, but they complied, lifting the barrier. Mr. Edema nodded in acknowledgment before heading towards the main entrance of the building.
Maiwake greeted him with a respectful bow. "Very sorry, Mr. I warned," he said, his shoulders shrugging casually, hands still in his pockets. Mr. Edema offered no reply, his silence heavy as he continued inside, heading straight for the waiting area where he could ease his weary bones.
Earlier, he had been informed that his granddaughter was being held in a secret cell. They had told him he would only be able to see her when her lawyer arrived. The officer at the reception desk started to call out to Mr. Edema, but Maiwake cut him off.
"Let him be; he's also an acquaintance."
The officer shot a glare in Maiwake's direction, but the detective seemed either oblivious or simply unconcerned. He remained outside, still waiting.
Finally, the lawyer arrived. There was no need for Maiwake to instruct the gate officers this time; the lawyer presented his credentials. The officers scrutinized the documents, eventually nodding their approval as the automatic boom barrier lifted. Maiwake walked over to the parking lot as the sleek black sedan secured a spot among the other vehicles. Lawyer Milo Monroe stepped out, immaculate in his corporate attire. He retrieved his briefcase and court robe from the back seat just as Maiwake approached.
Maiwake extended his hand for a handshake, which the lawyer accepted. Noticing the court robe, Maiwake commented, "Don't worry, you can keep that; you won't be needing it."
"Oh... just had to be prepared for anything," the lawyer replied, returning the robe to his car before joining Maiwake as they headed toward the station's entrance.
As they walked, Maiwake began, "Well, your client has a murder count of over a hundred..." He paused for effect, watching the lawyer's face for any sign of tension. "Of which about twenty percent of them are politicians... Big ones."
"Hmm, so we're working with a feral monster this time," the lawyer remarked.
"Well... not really, though," Maiwake replied.
They reached the entrance just as the lady in dark glasses and a hoodie from earlier strutted out of the building. She casually fist-bumped Maiwake's shoulder as she passed. He turned, about to greet her, but she was already too far away, and he wasn't inclined to shout. He entered the building, with the lawyer following close behind. As Maiwake headed up the stairs, the lawyer moved to follow, ignoring the officer at the reception desk. The officer tried to stop him but was once again cut off.
"No worries, he's with me," Maiwake said.
"Wha..." the officer began, but Maiwake and the lawyer were already ascending the stairs, passing several offices until they reached one where they saw Dumi talking to Mr. Edema.
"I'm sorry, gramps..." Dumi's voice trembled as she fought back tears while Mr. Edema wept silently.
The lawyer looked taken aback. "Unexpected, huh?"
"So this is the one that has those charges?" the lawyer asked.
"You sure bet," Maiwake confirmed.
The lawyer's gaze shifted to a corner of the room where a few officers lay piled on top of each other, groaning in pain.
"And what happened to those?" the lawyer asked, a mix of dread and curiosity in his voice.
Maiwake stifled a laugh. "Probably tried to rough her up, but got their share."
"Now this is one kind of feral monster," the lawyer remarked.
They watched as Mr. Edema stood up, wiping the tears from his eyes as he made his way to the exit. He passed them without a word.
"Hmmm, talk about a pissed oldie," Maiwake muttered as they entered the room.
"Hey, you can't blame him, though. His grandkid just got arrested for about a hundred mur—"
"Actually, a hundred and fifty-two," Dumi corrected the lawyer.
"Oh... sorry for the error, ma'am," the lawyer apologized.
"What's the apology for?" Maiwake asked.
"She's my client, so I have to respect her or at least get my facts right," the lawyer replied.
"In fact, both of you are weird," Maiwake sighed, turning towards Dumi. "Let's get this started already. Oritsedumi Edema, this is Barr. Milo Monroe, and he's your government-appointed lawyer. He's here for questioning, so feel free to pour out all your crimes because he won't be able to defend crimes he wasn't informed about. Seeing we're all set..."
He paused, eyeing the groaning officers on the floor. "Alright, boys, move your asses out."
They slowly got up, one of them helping a colleague who was already knocked out, and shuffled out of the room. Maiwake shook his head in disappointment, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.
"Don't know why I was asked to supervise this whole thing, like I'll be of use when she goes feral."
Dumi sat quietly as the lawyer slid into the seat her grandfather had just vacated.
"Good day, child. I want you to know that I want to help you and make sure you get out of this unscathed or at most get you the least amount of punishment possible. And I think it would be very helpful if you cooperate with me on this case."
Dumi's response was blunt. "Look, let's just skip all this and meet at the court. I'm charged with over a hundred and fifty murder cases, and twenty-eight of them are political figures. I've accepted my fate, so don't bother trying to pacify me."
"Girl's damn straight to the point, this one," Maiwake remarked.
The lawyer ignored Maiwake's comment. "I get that you've given up, but I haven't. In your mind, you feel like you're at the end of the road, but just because you did it doesn't mean you're guilty."
Maiwake chuckled. "Gotta tell the judge that one."
The lawyer shot a glare at Maiwake.
"Hey, don't look at me that way. It's not like it's my fault she's blunt... Right now, I'm just praying she doesn't go feral," he said, adjusting his cap and leaning back against the wall.
The lawyer shook his head and turned back to Dumi. "Well, you could at least tell me who hired you... your contract..."
"I wasn't hired... I killed at my own volition," Dumi cut him off.
"Huh... then is there any reason, or do you have any feuds with any of the political figures you could bring to light? Like maybe oppression? 'Cause I heard you were sensitive to light, and seeing that the room is dim-lit convinces me. So what's your aggravating cause?" the lawyer asked.
"What does it matter if I speak up? The big dudes will just shove my statements in a corner, and you'd all just go sucking up to that Dere dude in the end. Just so you know, this country hasn't seen hell yet. The real hell arrives when that crook gets to sit in that office. Hopefully, I'd be dead by then... All I can worry about now is how poor gramps is going to cope with all that is to come."
She paused, rubbing her chin with her cuffed hands. "Well, he speaks of this guy who created the universe and cares for everyone in it... Hope the guy cares for him when I'm gone, though, 'cause he's gonna need it."
"I don't think we're going anywhere with this," Maiwake said, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he pushed himself off the wall. The lawyer leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
Outside the building, Iron Hero landed in the yard, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. He carried a food flask as he walked toward the entrance. He noticed a sleek salon car with the plate number 'KOR-YIN.'
"Now that's one weird plate number," he remarked, glancing at a new message from Blessing:
'Be sure to give her dark glasses too... to protect her eyes.'
He sighed, and entered the building, striding past the reception desk without a glance at the officer in charge.
"Hey, hey, heeey..." the officer called out, but Iron Hero kept walking.
"Oh, come on, what's with it today?" the officer muttered, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
In a crowded slum area of the city, Mr. Edema navigated the bustling street, passing by a few shops as he carefully made his way through the chaotic environment. The air was thick with the scent of street food, and the clamor of vendors hawking their wares filled the narrow lanes. Yet, amid the noise and activity, Mr. Edema noticed a shadow of unease creeping up behind him.
A group of rough-looking men—likely local thugs—began tailing him, their eyes locked on his small, worn bag. As he continued walking, the thugs quickened their pace, eventually closing in on him.
"Hey there, old man..." one of the thugs called out, his voice laced with menace.
Mr. Edema paused, his eyes darting around the street, hoping someone might intervene. But the people around him carried on with their business, completely ignoring the situation as though he were invisible.
"I don't have any... money," Mr. Edema replied, his voice trembling as he glanced nervously at the thugs.
The thug who had spoken smirked, but before he could respond, Mr. Edema's expression hardened. His frustration with the place reached a boiling point, and he let out a low growl. "Arg... To hell with this place."
In one swift motion, Mr. Edema dropped the small bag he'd been clutching and straightened up, shedding the weak, hunched posture he'd been feigning. The thugs recoiled in surprise as they saw the drastic change in the old man's demeanor.
Without warning, Mr. Edema swung his fist, landing a powerful punch squarely on one thug's face. The blow sent the thug crashing to the ground with a hard thud, his nose bleeding from the impact. Another thug lunged at Mr. Edema, attempting to strike him, but Mr. Edema effortlessly caught the punch mid-air and twisted the thug's arm. A loud groan of pain escaped the thug's lips as Mr. Edema followed up with a swift kick to his side, sending him sprawling onto the street.
The remaining thugs hesitated, their earlier bravado evaporating in the face of this unexpected resistance. A few bystanders who had ignored the situation earlier now stopped to watch, intrigued by the turn of events.
"Oh, you no longer wish to fight?" Mr. Edema taunted, a wry smile playing on his lips as he watched the other thugs back away, fear evident in their eyes. Seeing them retreat, he scoffed, "Nonsense."
Panic seized the thugs as they realized they were outmatched, and they turned tail, bolting down the street in a frantic attempt to escape. Mr. Edema chuckled to himself as one of the fleeing thugs stumbled and fell, scrambling to get back on his feet as fast as possible.
Satisfied, Mr. Edema retrieved his bag from the ground and calmly walked toward a narrow alley between two dilapidated buildings. As he entered the shadows, his form began to shift and morph, his appearance changing with each step. By the time he reached the other side of the alley, the frail old man was gone, replaced by a familiar figure—Chase. Light-skinned, dressed in slightly disheveled clothing, and wearing his signature hat, Chase grinned to himself as he adjusted the brim.