Nightchase
Man, I need a new job.
Takumi Kimura sighed as he pulled his motorcycle to a stop under the bridge. The smell of stale urine and rotting garbage stung his nostrils, but he was used to it by now. Four months as an exchange student and the only friend he's made was a homeless guy.
But hey, at least I get to talk Japanese with someone.
He groaned and walked down the path. "Yo, Horikiri-san!" he called out, spotting the familiar hunched figure huddled against a graffiti-covered concrete pillar. Takumi pulled out the bento box. "Dinner time!"
The old man stirred, blinking blearily at Takumi. His ratty jacket hung off his frame, and his weathered face looked even more haggard than usual.
What does he do all day? He looks rough. Maybe I should've brought some sake instead of curry katsu...
"Ah, Takumi-kun," Horikiri croaked, putting on a weak smile. "Arigato."
Takumi plopped down next to the old man, handing over the container of tofu and rice curry, before pulling out his own dinner of rice balls and leftover pizza from lunch. As they ate, they both tilted their heads back, gazing up at the night sky peeking through the gaps in the overpass.
"Ne, Horikiri-san," Takumi began, fiddling with the strap of his delivery bag. "Is it true you used to be a hero?"
The old man paused mid-bite, a faraway look in his eyes. "Mukashi mukashi da na..."
Long, long ago, huh? Yeah, right.
Takumi couldn't help it. He chuckled audibly. He'd heard rumors from some of the PRT guys about Horikiri being some legendary cape, but looking at the disheveled hobo beside him, that was way too hard to believe.
Maybe he's got a relative high up in management or something. No way this weirdo was actually a hero.
Still, Horikiri was fun to talk to, and it soothed Takumi's homesick heart to know there was someone just as lonely as he was. But what was Horikiri's connection to the PRT? It's not like Takumi's allowed to research heroes, He spent his free time on deliveries, cartoons, and his inventions. The last two were his bread and butter. They fueled his dream to one day be a tinkertech hero.
"Hey, guess what?" Takumi grinned, excitedly. "I got an invitation to join the Wards! They said if I can prove myself, I'm in!"
Horikiri nodded sagely, shoveling more curry into his mouth.
"I've got this awesome invention I'm gonna unveil soon," Takumi continued, practically vibrating with energy. "They'll have to accept me after they see it in action! You wanna s-" Before Takumi could finish, Horikiri started choking, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Takumi's eyes widened in panic.
Oh crap, oh crap!
He leapt to his feet, wrapping his arms around the old man's waist and giving a sharp upward thrust. A chunk of chicken flew from Horikiri's mouth, landing with a wet splat on the ground. "Jeez.. Chew your food, old-timer," Takumi handed over his water bottle, watching as Horikiri gulped it down gratefully.
Yep, this guy's definitely not hero material. I'm gonna have to check on him more often to make sure no local gangs bother him.
"Arigatou, Takumi-kun," Horikiri wheezed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"No problem," Takumi shrugged, gathering his things. "Hey, I'll see ya tomorrow, same time? And you'll be looking at a Ward!"
As he swung his leg over his motorcycle, Takumi patted the gadget tucked safely in his backpack.
Just a few more deliveries tonight, then it's time to unleash the "Annoyatron 2000"!
[Three Hours Later]
The good news: The Annoyatron 2000 worked! I saved a couple of people today!
The bad news: It worked way too well!
Takumi's knuckles were white as he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle, weaving through the nighttime freeway.
This is not how I pictured my superhero debut!
Behind him, a motley crew of Brockton Bay's finest villains gave chase. Empire 88 skinheads, Lung's ABB thugs, and even members of Faultline's Crew were hot on his tail.
How did they all get trucks and motor bikes?! This isn't Mad Maxx!
Takumi reached into his bag, fumbling for one of his gadgets. His fingers closed around a small sphere, and he tossed it ahead of him without looking.
"Eat paint, losers!" he shouted, channeling his inner anime protagonist.
The Paint Bomb exploded in a riot of color, creating a cartoon pit on the ground that only Takumi could pass through. He heard curses and the screech of tires as his pursuers crashed into the opening.
If I can just make it to the Boardwalk... Maybe the PRT can save me! Almost there!
His hope was short-lived as a blast of fire scorched the air beside him. Takumi yelped, nearly losing control of his bike.
Oh shit, is that Lung?!
The enormous cape was already growing larger, scales glinting in the streetlights as he bounded from a truck, to a car, and then leaped across the freeway. Takumi fumbled for another gadget, his fingers closing around a small device. He pressed the button and tossed it behind him.
"Sonic Bomb, go!"
A piercing whistle filled the air, followed by a blast of white powder, and suddenly a flock of cartoonish yellow birds materialized, circling the heads of Lung and his men. Several villains swerved wildly. Two of them crashed into each other.
Yes! It's working! Wait- Where's the Big Guy?
He twisted his head to look back. A huge shadow fell on Takumi. Lung was there, still growing to a monstrous proportions. He was dwarfing the truck now. With a swipe of his massive clawed hand, the dragon-man crushed Takumi's motorcycle like a tin can. Takumi went flying, skidding across the asphalt, and coming to a stop against the freeway barrier. His motorcycle jacket was in tatters and a deep bloody bruise fell across his chest. As he hissed in pain, deep booming laughter emerged from the villain.
Slowly, Takumi scrambled to his feet, heart pounding as more men surrounded him.
"You're gonna pay for ruining our meeting, kid." Lung exhaled deeply.
What happened to starting at level one?! It had to be Lung of all people. This is at least level 10!
"S-stay back!" Takumi stammered, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I'm not a normal kid. I'm a Ward! I'm the hero, Roadrunner! AND - I-I'm not afraid to use this!" He reached into his pack, pulling out... a pencil box. It was just an ordinary school supply, not even one of his inventions.
Oh god, I'm so dead.
Lung loomed over him, flames flickering around his scaled form. "And what does that do, huh?" The gathered villains laughed, closing in on the cornered teen.Takumi gulped, his mind racing. "It's a powerful bomb that'll take you all out! I call it Pandora's Box! It's the source of all evil in this world. And if I open it! You'll have no hope left!" What the hell am I even saying?? Are they buying this?
Some of the villains looked uncertain, but one snickered. "He's lying. Let's gut him!"
As they rushed forward, Takumi squeezed his eyes shut. This is it..
The world around him faded away, replaced by the thunderous pounding of his own heart. Each second stretched into forever, each of his heartbeats echoed in his ears, drowning out the approaching footsteps of the villains.
Thump-thump
Is this what dying feels like?
Thump-thump
I never even got to make a friend in America.
Thump-thump
Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad.
But just as Takumi thought Lung's meaty fists was about to crush him, a deafening boom shook the freeway. The sound of his heartbeat was overwhelmed by a storm of noises - the whoosh of displaced air, the crack of breaking bones, startled cries of the terror. Did I just hear a wilhelm scream? The ground shook. Takumi felt himself lifted off his feet by a powerful shockwave. He tumbled through the air, his eyes still squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable impact. But instead of pain, he heard... whirling? It was a strange, almost musical sound, punctuated by grunts of exertion and the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the ground.
After what felt like an eternity, silence fell.
Takumi cautiously opened one eye, then the other. He staggered to his feet. His mouth hung open at what he saw.
What the heck happened?
Lung lay unconscious on the ground, steam rising from his rapidly shrinking form. Most of the other thugs were scattered across the freeway, either knocked out cold or groaning in pain. Those still capable of movement were fleeing in terror, stumbling over each other in their haste to escape.
"That kid's a goddamn monster!" one of them yelled as they ran. Takumi blinked, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Had he done this? But how? He looked down at the pencil box still clutched in his hand. This is definitely not one of his tinkertechs. He looked down on the ground next to where Lung was, before he was dragged away by his men. There was something there.
Wait. Is that a bento box?
In the distance, police sirens wailed.
Sirens wailed. Takumi's heart pounded as he surveyed the chaos—unconscious villains scattered across the street, his bike a twisted wreck nearby. What had he done?
A police cruiser screeched to a halt. An officer leapt out, gun drawn, more cars and officers joined him.
"Freeze!" he shouted. Takumi raised his hands slowly. "Whoa! Hey wait I-I'm not—" A whoosh of air caught his attention.. A sleek, bronze figure landed between them with a resounding clang. Takumi instantly recognized Scribe, the Protectorate hero.
"Excelsior, friends! Please stand down, officer," Scribe's synthesized voice commanded. "This is... a person of interest. Roadrunner here is a Wards candidate. A very promising cape."
The cop lowered his weapon, confusion evident. "This kid. You did all this...?"
Scribe's optics whirred, focusing on Takumi. "Indeed. Quite the scene, wouldn't you say?" Scribe's robotic voice rang out, "I detect no other capes in the area. Of course, Roadrunner did it. Do you see anyone else around?"
Takumi opened his mouth, but no words came out. It's not like he could explain it if he wanted to. "Yeah- sorry about the mess."
The cop whistled. "Don't worry, kid. You saved us a lot of trouble, we've been trying to bust up those gangs for a while. Glad you're on our side."
Scribe nodded, his robotic eyes scanned Takumi. "I believe since you're already one of the Wards candidate. I'll mark this as a sufficient achievement for your initiation. Welcome to the Wards, Roadrunner!"
Takumi could only stare, dumbfounded. Then reality sunk in and he stared at Scribe like he had two-heads.
I'm... a Ward? I did it! But wait! The Annoyatron 2000 worked but... I didn't fight those guys.
He couldn't just lie to get in. Guilt mixed inside him and his conscience won over his greed.
"Actually.. Sir! I was uhmm.. it wasn't m-," he stammered forward but was interrupted.
"Hmm? Rest now, young hero. You've earned it. We will discuss your welcome ceremony soon," Scribe's robotic voice was clear. The metal features of the robot's face shoot him an oddly knowing smile.
Does he know? But why is he still playing along?
"Yes, sir," Takumi nodded numbly, collapsing into what remained of his bike.
The next morning, Takumi woke with a start. He was relieving what happened last night over and over again in his head. He pinched himself, half-expecting to wake up. But the Ward badge on his nightstand confirmed it - somehow, impossibly, it had all been real. With a grin , Takumi leapt out of bed. He had someone he needed to tell.
Hopping on his newly repaired motorcycle (courtesy of the PRT), Takumi sped towards the bridge.
"Yatta!" he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "I did it, Horikiri-san! I'm a Ward!"
He skidded to a stop, practically leaping off his bike. He reached deep into his pocket and pointed his new badge at Horikiri-san. In his other hand, he clutched a steaming container of omurice with special chili and garlic white sauce - a celebratory breakfast for his favorite hobo.
"Ohayo, Takumi-kun," Horikiri-san yawned widely.
"You won't believe what happened last night!" Takumi gushed, settling down next to Horikiri. "I took on Lung and a bunch of other villains, and somehow I beat them all! It was amazing! Let me tell ya over, breakfast!"