I used to be one of those heroes with morality. I used to let those bastards keep their lives, too. I used to be one of the perfect exemplars for the younger heroes, but those were the old days I used to value but now felt ashamed of. I felt like I was forty-something now, but I had been too busy to track my actual age.

The gangster begged and begged as my fists slowly tore his face. Well, not exactly, because the guy eventually replaced begging with groaning. He was more than willing to tell me where his boss was when I started punching, but I had another hostage right in the opposite corner. That one got his mouth filled with my socks and taped. By the way, I never washed my socks.

"Crack!"

I had to admit. Human necks were way too fragile for me, even with my superpowers weakened. Thinking of the good side, at least I could still fight some gangs with my pathetic remnant. I walked to the room's opposite corner as the man with a broken neck fell to the ground. The trembling man immediately spitted the socks out as I tore the tape.

"Rex Street! Number 31! Number 31, Rex Street! Please don't……."

I reloaded his mouth with my right knee before he could let out his plea. I heard some "crack" when my knee went into his mouth. Perhaps, that was his fallen teeth. He fell to the floor after I got my knee out and strolled toward the door. He was trying to say something with his dislocated jaw, but I couldn't understand a word.

"I'll leave you here starving to death. Enjoy," I answered him before closing the underground cold room. Outside the cold room was my bedroom, originally the cute basement of a family restaurant, but the restaurant was abandoned after the Italian couple was killed. I later bought it at an overhigh price so that the daughter could afford college.

I picked up the backpack right next to the stairs. As my first step landed on the stairs, I looked back at the heavy door. That man with a broken jaw kept smashing the door's glass window with his forehead. Tying his arms was definitely the right choice. With a sigh and disappointment on my face, I walked back and opened the door.

"Thank you so much. I…….”

I smashed his head on the steel door before he could finish his sentence. I did it just right that I broke his skull without a drop of blood. I wished I was a crueler man, but I understood pain too well to overcharge others with it. With no further hesitation, I left the Italian restaurant and sat in my silver van. Just to check the backseats, I took a look a the rear-view mirror.

An unfamiliar face was shown in the mirror. The face was square and muscular, with golden hair and black eyes. Sparse beard stubble around the mouth and bloodshot eyes made the whole face look as sloppy as hell.

I took a few seconds to stare at the face and eventually turned on the car. I desperately wanted to hide this face under my mask, my true face. I couldn't. The police would recognize the mask and arrest me. The arresting part wasn't a big problem, but I didn't feel like taking good men's life away.

My van was driven much slower than the average speed of cars that passed by. I looked out from the window. Although the view of City Pelle was neither attractive nor romantic, these moments of leering at this city were the only moments I could relax.

Unfortunately, things turned out that I could not yet relax. A bolt of lightning just crashed on the car in front of mine. Well, what fell wasn't exactly a bolt of lightning. It was a man in a stupid blue bodysuit and a purple down tank top. Did I mention that his sleeves were green?

I thought he was shouting something, but my eyes were dragged toward the vehicle under his feet. The top of the car was sunken, and the windows were fragmented. The blood and bone pieces of the driver spilled out from the broken window when the men fell on the vehicle. I stared at the blood on the car door and let out a long sigh. I moved my eyes back to him. He was now pointing fingers all around the static car throng.

I would probably pull off his mistletoe mustache if I were still the hero I used to be, but now, it was no more my problem. Fuck. His eyes started to stare at my vehicle. He must have been enraged because my car was the only one with a one-way window film. Well, there wasn't really a lot of car around this time, 13:00. That could be another reason.

The weirdo stepped down the car in front and walked to the side of my van. A cloud of scarlet translucent fume twined on my wrists like two thick twines. I was grateful that his attention was taken by someone coming from the back. He quickly raised his arms and aimed his palms at that someone. A blue spark popped out as a white motorcycle smashed right into him. I stretched my head a bit to see his body fly a few meters out and lie on the road. The one riding the motor was a superhero I used to tutor. She was only 19 at the time, and I was 23. If anyone asked me about that time, I would tell him it was a precious memory.

The hero was wearing a metal helmet with two pointy antennae. The front part of the helmet had three silver pieces that covered her mouth, nose, and forehead. The pieces were in an obtuse V shape, except the forehead piece, which was acute and extended its two ends into the two antennae. There wasn't a piece to protect the eyes. Not only that, the gap between the forehead piece and the nose piece was explicitly made wide for the hero to see through. The back of the helmet was just some plain rounded black materials that covered the back of her head.

The chest plate also had an obtuse V structure, but the chest plate's V was pointing at a higher angle than vertically at the ground. Her chest plate also had two antennae pointing at the back. Those antennae were kind of her hero signature. She needed those on every suit of hers. The rest of the armor was more of a traditional medieval style, and the gaps between armors were filled with the same kind of black material used on her head. What was worth mentioning was that she had no armor covering her belly but those flexible black materials. Also, she had neither armpit armors nor joint armors. I once asked her why. She told me that too much armor would affect her performance. Considering she was an acrobat, those did make sense.

She immediately checked the car with the dead driver after handcuffing that weirdo on the ground. She acted very professionally and deftly. Some passersby were even taking photos and videos. I'd say she deserved it. The next step would be to calm the drivers and passengers around her and then redirect the traffic. What I didn't expect was that she just came straight to my van. That did make sense.

She knocked on my window politely with one of her hands at her back. Did I mention that was her signature move? Well, now I did.

"Yes, ma'am?" I lowered the window and spoke normally with nothing abnormal. Perhaps she was waiting for a scared face, but I experienced too much to even have an expression.

"Oh, sir." she paused ad hesitated. I didn't see her face when she hesitated, partly because I wasn't looking at her and partly because she had her helmet on.

"Do you have any personal relationship with that man?"

I approved it was a nice guess based on the fact the killer came to me specifically, and I showed no fear. "Guess he hates window films," I answered without much seriousness but with a numb expression instead.

"If I have the honor to know where you are going?" she asked with a bit of hesitation in the first few words. Even someone who had no idea about the law could tell she wasn't asking what she should ask.

I was seriously afraid that she already knew who I was. I just wish she wouldn't get in my way. I hoped she wouldn't.

"The Clown Street, for the new movie," I lied only partially. That was the key to lying, giving half fake news and half correct information.