After nearly another week of patrolling, the Superheroes finally left Villain Territory. Frank had a handful of friends giving us real time updates on the situation, and it was good that at least one of us had other friends to rely on. These guys were my only real friends, Tóxica didn’t really know anyone else, and Reload mostly had enemies.

  There were already countless news articles calling the operation a massive success, claiming that the heroes had hunted down the masterminds behind the recent fighting. But, looking deeper into it, they only arrested a handful of henchmen and an absolute nobody of a villain called Sticker.

  It was late at night when I received the news of their departure, which meant that that would be the night we attacked. If we gave them time, then there was a chance they’d be able to build themselves up. Whether it was getting a cache of guns, hordes of new henchmen, or hiring more villains, we couldn’t let them build up their strength.

  So, I called everyone to the back of the truck, one last meeting under the cover of darkness. By the end of the night, we’d either be dead or standing over the corpses of Agony and his disciples.

  “Hey boss, what’s up?” Reload asked, joining us from guard duty in the front.

  “Frank just told me that the heroes have just pulled out of Villain Territory,” I explained. “That means it’s finally time for us to make our move.”

  Reload looked happier than I had ever seen him, his near psychotic joy appearing once again. The others also had an air of excitement underneath them. Though that could also be the excitement of finally leaving this food truck and district.

  “Alright, are we headed out now?” Frank asked.

  “Not yet, we can’t head into the fight of our lives like this. There’s a motel down the street, and I’m going to go rent us a room. Taking a shower that’s not from a bucket is just what I need. If any of you want to also shower and change, you can go after me. But until then, get yourself mentally ready for the fight.”

  I hopped out of the food truck, carrying a bag of clothes and bathing supplies, hearing them start arguing over who goes next. Almost every time I fought, my outfit would end up in ruins. So, unfortunately, I was down to one last set of clothes.

  The motel was as decrepit as you would expect, in even worse condition than the one we once called home. The ice cold water of their moldy shower helped wake me up, making it so that I wouldn’t dare relax for even a second.

  Since the night the Disciples attacked the motel, I barely had the time or ability to take care of my appearance, especially when it came to shaving. And after so much time, as I shaved off my coarse beard, it felt weird to see my bare face again. The person in the mirror barely looked like me, my face having changed more than I would’ve ever expected.

  My black hair had also grown shaggy, and even if I was in need of a haircut, there wasn’t much that I could do. I put on my last clean outfit, a simple gray suit that Frank had gotten, and walked out of the motel room. While it wasn’t the most practical for fighting, it gave me some confidence.

  The cold winter air wrapped around me as I walked back to the food truck. I looked up at the sky, watching the abandoned ships that I once prayed to floating through the air. I knew that the Dendra weren’t gods, they were nothing but aliens that had long since disappeared.

  But, it still comforted me to pray to them, probably since I was raised Dendrist. They were the ones that saved us from the war that nearly tore apart the plant, and their technology is the only reason we survived the appearance of the system. Whatever happened to them, I hoped that they survived.

  I prayed that we would all be alright, that this wouldn’t be a death trap. We’d spent so long preparing for this fight, all that was left was to win it. And as long as I had Reload, Frank, and Tóxica by my side, we could win this.

  When I got back to the food truck, Reload was the next one to go get ready. While he showered, the others read over the strategies and notes that I had left for them. Even Tóxica was preparing for the fight, occasionally asking Frank for help with certain words.

  I sat in the front of the food truck, keeping watch as the time passed. It was weird, knowing that everything would change soon. But despite the fact that there was so little time, there was somehow also far too much of it.

  Each second slowly passed by, making sure I was aware of what was happening. There was nothing else to do but prepare. I messaged Surge, and he was very unhappy that I was waking him up late at night.

  It was one in the morning, and he made it clear that there was no way in hell he could move out at that time. After some arguing, he agreed to attack at three. That gave us two more hours to prepare.

  I made sure to thank him for all his help, alongside sending every piece of information that I had. While he was a fan of Contract’s fighting arena, Tóxica was able to give information that none of the viewers would’ve known.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  It was two in the morning by the time we finally left the red-light district. I rode up front with Frank, calming myself with the sight of the city passing us by. While we drove, I lowered the window and lit a cigarette.

  “Want one?” I asked, holding the pack towards him.

  “No thanks, I’ve been thinking of quitting,” he answered.

  I took a long drag. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll join you one day.”

  Smoke was still the scent of home to me. It brought me back to the days of being a kid, fantasizing about the awesome powers that I would one day have. When I ended up getting powers, I nearly let myself be crushed by the disappointment.

  But that was a time long gone. The boy who let himself lose before ever playing is someone I would never be again. I clawed my way through every challenge I faced, refusing to just give up and die. Now it was time for me to prove the change in myself.

  Belaqua street, home of the Disciple’s main building, the Tower of Agony, was dead. We were staking it out at a distance, looking from a few streets down the road. But the entire street had been cleared out, practically abandoned.

  There were no people walking around, and there wasn’t a single car parked on the street. The buildings were all pitch black, their lights turned off. Now, it wasn’t as if a bunch of stores would be busy in the middle of the night, but this was far too obvious of a setup.

  My phone buzzed, a text coming in from Surge.

  [Surge: We’re ready to go.]

  I thought for a second, wondering what the best move forward was. They were always going to have something prepared for when we came, so I couldn’t let a clear battlefield shake my resolve.

  [Me: Give them hell.]

  “Frank, we’re moving in. Try to keep quiet for now,” I told him, keeping an eye out for our surroundings.

  I sent messages through the system to Reload and Tóxica, making sure they wouldn’t do anything rash. The food truck was as silent as it could be, slowly creeping down the streets. Whatever Frank’s contacts had told him, none of them mentioned this happening.

  By the time we were halfway down Belaqua street, I was considering just getting out of the food truck with Reload. We could set up bombs around the base of their tower, demolishing the entire building while they were seemingly sleeping.

  But right before I messaged Reload, a spotlight turned on. Frank and I looked to the sky, attention caught by the one illuminated area in sight. There was Polymeniac, currently standing on the roof of a nearby building.

  I wasn’t going to be surprised by something like that, sometimes a villain just wanted to have an over the top introduction. What did surprise me were the four extra arms he sprouted, as he went behind a massive custom drum set.

  “One. Two. Three. Four!” Polymeniac shouted, his voice carried over through speakers surrounding us.

  He began demolishing with a six-armed drum solo of some heavy metal song, his arms working in near perfect unison. The music was so loud that the truck was shaking, and it was difficult to think of anything but the vibrations shooting through my skull.

  I ignored the messages from Reload and Tóxica, both of them confused as to what was happening. In the years that I knew Poly, he never once cared about making an elaborate entrance. He believed that it wasn’t important to impress a soon to be dead man.

  And if this wasn’t an entrance, then it had to be a distraction. I looked around, trying to ignore the blaring music that had Frank covering his ears. That was when I barely saw it, the glimpse of a metallic reflection from a nearby building.

  There were guns aimed at us from each direction, henchmen hidden in the nearby buildings. It felt impossible to tell how many there actually were, but just from the ones I could make out, it was more than we could handle. We were already surrounded and the fight hadn’t even started.

  I grabbed Frank’s face, turning him to me. “Drive!” I shouted, barely audible over the music.

  Despite that, he still understood my order. We began moving right as the volley of bullets began to rain down on us. I could hear them bouncing off the metal walls of the food truck, yet just as many were starting to breach the inside.

  The street was practically pitch black so that we wouldn’t spot the surrounding henchmen. So, I made a reckless decision born out of desperation. I messaged Tóxica and Reload, telling them to jump out the back of the food truck.

  I tried my best to shout directions at Frank, but I couldn’t even hear my own words. I just waved him goodbye and jumped out of the passenger seat, hoping that he could figure out what to do for himself.

  I stumbled, having to take a second to get myself back on my own two feet. I turned to see Reload and Tóxica standing in the middle of the street, a few feet away from me. The sound of gunfire continued to burst through the air.

  I saw the food truck speeding down the street, desperate to escape the crossfire of the nearby henchmen. With how dark the street was, that reflective metal truck was the only thing that stood out.

  Frank escaped Belaqua street, and I was happy that he got out of there. While we would need his help, this would’ve been a slaughter for someone without Super Resistance. I just hoped that the truck would work long enough for him to return.

  “We need to get cover, head into one of the buildings!” I shouted at Tóxica and Reload, doing my best to be heard.

  We started to run towards the entrance of a small office, but our path was quickly blocked off. In front of the door were a few henches, with more joining them as they realized where we were. But the real danger was Plaything’s toys, who were starting to crawl out of the alleyways.

  Before we could start fighting our way through the blockade, a new voice sounded through the speakers. His words had the weight of a middle schooler who turned into a thirty year old man, filled with social ineptitude and clamminess.

  “Where you going, children? You can’t miss [Playtime],” cackled Plaything.

  I turned to where Polymeniac was playing, seeing Plaything posing on the same rooftop. His hairy chest was on full display, framing his greasy potbelly underneath. He wore a mankini made out of bright pink fur, the shoulders coming together to form a hood with large fluffy rabbit ears.

  “God,” I said to myself. “I fucking hate this guy.”