Nemo returned to the West District's Protein District safehouse, feeling like he had been doing a triathlon since early this morning.
Whenever he had a brief moment, Nemo would shed his uniform to catch his breath. Expertly, he removed his weapons and, like a snake shedding its skin, peeled off his outerwear and boots. Then he entered the bathroom for a quick shower, emerging while clutching the inner parts of his uniform.
The thought of putting that pile of gear back on in two or three hours made Nemo's murderous intent toward the bookstore owner rise by another ten percent. Naturally, Nemo couldn’t just run straight from the harbor area to challenge the kingdom delegate in the West Ninth District. No matter how rushed the timing was, he still had to decide on the basic strategy. Meanwhile, Angie was waiting for him to share the details of Hako’s distress signal.
Angie made half a pot of apple-orange juice, added half fresh milk, and poured it into two glasses, handing one to Nemo. The mix actually tasted pretty good, and Angie knew that when a superhero returned in uniform, the best thing to do was feed them first.
As Nemo drank the juice and milk to replenish his strength, he shared everything he had learned with Angie.
"Huh? That perverted kidnapper lives right between your place and mine?" Angie couldn’t stand it. "I’m joining in! No objections allowed!"
"I was already going to ask Salamanda for help. Let me finish explaining." Nemo put down his glass, which still had one-fifth of the juice and milk left, and quickly clarified his plan to Angie.
"This operation will be split into two lines, with the primary goal being to rescue the hostages. The bookstore owner will let the Kingdom delegates handle their own business."
"Why not just catch that Polish old man and force him to reveal where the hostages are hidden?" Angie didn’t understand why Nemo was making things so complicated.
"Think about the lessons learned from the Belt and Road Initiative. Do you really think the Chinese will honestly pay that Polish old man at least ten living gemstones worth of rejuvenation surgery fees? Eyes, heart, lungs, stomach, kidneys—eight out of ten gemstones right there. These costs are way higher than the price of those powerless hostages."
"Moreover, living gemstones are not like China’s organ banks—cheap and diverse. They are extremely rare, difficult to preserve, and there’s a risk of transplant failure. To put it simply, the chance of a successful match is nearly zero. The Chinese must have invented some kind of outrageous method to splice the organs of superpowered people into ordinary bodies. It might seem fine at first, but over time, there will be big problems. And think about who can afford living gemstones—you and I both know what kind of people those are." Nemo dismissed it with a shrug. "As we Taiwanese say, ‘Eating raw isn’t enough, and you still want to dry it out?’"
"So, the chances of the Polish old man getting double-crossed are pretty high?" Angie finally understood what Nemo meant. She had just been unclear about the market and usage of living gemstones. Once organs were harvested, wouldn’t they need to be transplanted immediately? But how could there always be a super-rich client who just happened to be a perfect match for an expensive superpowered organ? Or did superpowered organs have an exceptionally long shelf life?
"I won’t say it’s a hundred percent, but at least ninety-five percent. The hostages will be in more danger from now on, because this isn’t a transaction; it’s a secondary kidnapping. I hope Salamanda will handle the assault mission and stop anyone from taking the hostages on their own—whether it’s the kidnappers or the Kingdom’s people. The hostages must be transferred back to their families through their own will, at a safe location." Nemo’s last sentence carried a pointed implication.
Perhaps there were people who were no longer willing to maintain close relationships with superpowered individuals, but had no place to escape. Nemo also wanted to use the influence of the Grimm Group to give these ordinary families a chance to leave.
"Does the Polish old man not know the risks of dealing with the Chinese?" Angie asked, propping her chin.
"An old, scheming bookstore owner who speaks multiple languages, he’s not so naïve as to be completely unprepared. Hako said there are more than one traitor. It’s easy to guess where they’ll show up."
"So, will there be a superpowered battle? Can you recommend that our allies wear red cloth bands so I can easily identify the enemies and step on those without the symbol?" Angie eagerly suggested.
"Good idea, I’ll include that detail in the second phase of the operation."
"YA!" The Taiwanese supermodel cheered, cracking her knuckles and letting out a mischievous laugh. "So, should I get ready to meet the Polish old man with you?"
"No, Salamanda is the secret weapon for this operation. You’ll need to break through the enemy’s blockade unexpectedly during the chaos, move the hostages onto a vehicle, and then escape with the driver. If we rescue all the hostages, we’ll have won! As for today, I’m only planning a feint to confirm the bookstore owner’s superpower type, forcing the Polish old man to reveal his public hideout and make him flee to another safehouse—especially one that might be holding Hako’s daughter." Nemo finished his juice-milk blend as he spoke.
"Since you've arranged it this way, I won't cause any trouble for you. Actually, last time, I was just two transformations away from metabolizing the sea giant's original blood. Remember how we went to the beach during the typhoon to monitor the sea giant's corpse? I thought that the strong winds and rain might help wash away the kaiju 's blood toxin effects faster. You suggested that the sea giant's body should always be rinsed with seawater, and the water quality and marine life in New York's Upper Bay have returned to normal, so getting drenched in rain and soaking in water—it's like the perfect purification ritual!" Angie still used the Taiwanese habit of saying "typhoon" instead of "hurricane." After all, she always spoke in her hometown dialect when chatting with Nemo; forcing herself to use American-style Chinese would feel awkward.
"In the end, we both got scolded terribly." Nemo grimaced.
"I was scolded by the head of Salamanda’s special treatment team. Did Matthew dare to scold you?"
"He totally would! You think the world's richest man isn't a sharp-tongued bastard? He keeps nagging me about why I don’t use the U.S. military’s emergency lines or the research team’s secret communication channels to check in. As if I hadn’t thought of that myself! I didn’t use them because there was no danger—I didn’t want to expose my location. And didn’t we make it back to headquarters safely on our own?" Nemo grew irritated as he spoke. Taiwanese motorcyclists are practically storm-born, capable of creating sonic booms while riding through flooded streets during typhoons. And he was a superpowered individual—at the very least, it had to be a Category 4 storm before it was even worth mentioning!
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Even the giant lizard was resting steadily, squinting its eyes like it was enjoying a spa with water pressure. Nemo repeatedly checked if Angie needed to retreat, but the giant lizard refused.
"By the way, you also lied to me that you had fully recovered and could join me on the field to monitor the sea giant's corpse. Angie, that wasn’t cool."
"But the purification ritual actually worked! Like the saying goes... break it before you can rebuild it! After breaking through my limits, I woke up feeling full of energy! You even sent me back to my safehouse!" Angie enjoyed living with Nemo, but Nemo didn’t think staying with a beautiful woman was all that fun. He’d rather clear the living room and have Angie practice transformation and silent communication; it was basically extra training.
Nemo lay on the couch, his eyes half-closed, seizing the rare and precious moments of rest while deducing the bookstore owner's superpower type. No gangs had resisted, and the kidnappers had successfully abducted the relatives of superpowered individuals—victims who should have been on high alert, yet were still taken away. The connection between these kidnappings and the Chinese, along with a transplantation technology even more mysterious than living gemstones…
As for the bookstore owner’s superpower, Nemo had two vastly different guesses. If the tactical choice was wrong, it could lead to big trouble. He pulled out a coin and repeatedly flipped it, knowing that without experiencing the enemy’s superpower attack firsthand, it would be difficult to enter the second stage of his plan.
The biggest question was: would Nemo still have a chance to fight back when the time came?
"Matthew, do you happen to have a less busy assistant who could help me investigate a kidnapped little girl’s whereabouts and all the clues since 6 PM the day before yesterday? I’m about to head to a bookstore and don’t have time to use the computer, plus tech-based investigations aren’t my strong suit." Nemo called Matthew from Angie’s safehouse, needing to do two safety reports for his partner in one day while also enduring his female friend’s constant nagging—such hard work.
"Why don’t you just ask me to help you with the investigation?" The rich, magnetic tone of the world's richest man stretched the words, whether intentional or not.
"Hako’s trouble is the mission you recommended to me. You started it, and the hostage rescue part is beyond my ability. I’m requesting appropriate intelligence assistance; you should focus on more important matters."
"You know how I feel about this. It's not just an internal conflict within an underground organization—someone is daring to engage in human trafficking on my turf, even involving underage children," Matthew said.
Here, Nemo could tell from Matthew’s tone that his "turf" didn’t refer to Lone Star City, but to the entire United States.
"Human trafficking has always been rampant. The previous incidents with parasitic bloodsucker larvae and the ongoing hyena phenomena are similar—living people becoming experimental materials, women and children from backward countries being smuggled into the U.S. in cargo containers." Nemo stated the ugly reality in a flat tone.
"So when I find out about such crimes, I don’t ignore them, do I?" Matthew gently countered.
"Do whatever you want, I just need information on the hostages. The most important thing is getting them back safely. Unless there's no other choice, I want to respect the families' wishes and avoid involving the police. After all, this is a sensitive issue concerning the bloodline of superpowered individuals, and the police can't be trusted. Some families might even try to silence them afterward," Nemo stated his position.
"I understand your thoughts. Be careful when browsing the bookstore, okay, Nemo?"
One thing about the world's richest man that made him hard to dislike was how his greetings always felt natural and sincere. His strong social skills were certainly a factor, but more than that, Matthew was acutely aware of how much he possessed and never minded sharing a little goodwill—both tangible and intangible. He despised the broken window effect, or perhaps he simply understood too well both his family and himself, having shattered quite a few windows along the way.
Excessive entanglement of contradictions can push someone to surpass their comfortable status quo and make sacrifices or take risks that don't align with their identity. Nemo himself was no exception, and he could also empathize with Matthew's situation to some extent.
As Matthew would put it, he would rather scatter a bag of seeds than trample a wildflower. There's no grand reason for it, he simply enjoys doing it. Although the terrifying part about Matthew Grimm is that he wouldn't hesitate to scatter a bag of machine gun bullets or even a warehouse full of missiles.
"I've always been careful, thank you for your concern, Matthew." Whenever the world's richest man spoke seriously, Nemo would respond with a friendly smile and a polite tone.
Nemo put on his superhero costume again, carefully and cautiously. As he watched his reflection in the mirror slowly transform into someone else, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of monster was hiding beneath the kind and gentle facade of the bookstore owner.
※※※
The bookstore closed and turned off the lights after dark, which was a normal occurrence in Lone Star City. The deep fear of bloodsucking mosquitoes caused many businesses to close at night, but more stores, struggling with the economic downturn, extended their operating hours.
The bookstore owner, who relied on "regular customers" and wasn't financially struggling, certainly wasn't one of the latter.
Nemo didn’t need to test the door to know it was locked. If the bookstore owner was home, he would leave a light on in the shopfront, though he might be in the basement or attic sorting books. Ever since learning about the Kingdom delegate’s status in this district, Nemo and Tolya would sometimes deliberately pass by the bookstore while out shopping or taking a walk, casually chatting as they looked at the new books displayed in the window. The Polish old man would even kindly open the door, inviting them in to enjoy the air conditioning and browse.
The bookstore owner certainly knew Nemo. Even with the most modest statistics, it was still widely known in the West District about the little chef battling bandits and his mysterious friendship with the world's richest man. Locals even took the initiative to promote Nemo’s glorious deeds to new residents and immigrants. Of course, this newly opened bookstore, less than a month in business, couldn’t escape the fate of being marketed with those stories.
Nemo was very familiar with the layout of the bookstore’s first floor. He had even bought a copy of The History of Table Etiquette and complained to the bookstore owner about how a rich bodyguard had to know everything, perhaps because Nemo used to be a chef and occasionally had to cook breakfast or arrange plates for his impulsive employer. The bookstore owner sympathetically gave him a 20% discount.
The hardcover book he chose had a particularly smooth cover, and when checking out, the bookstore owner's fingerprints were solidly imprinted on the receipt. The book was then placed in a ziplock bag and sent to Matthew’s desk, along with the invoice for company reimbursement.
Before Hako sought help from the KS man, Nemo had already been sensitive to the fact that ｔhe Kingdom's delegate lived nearby. He decided to have Matthew investigate the person's true identity and criminal record.
Cases of superpowered individuals reaching such an old age were rare, even in the gossip discussions on the Meteor Shower Watchers Forum. How could a frail body and deteriorating organs sustain the energy consumption of superpowers? And how had he earned the favor of the Kingdom’s higher-ups, to be assigned to the frontlines of Lone Star City to claim a share of the spoils?
Matthew also found this "suspected" case of an elderly superpowered individual quite interesting—they still had no concrete evidence or eyewitness accounts of the bookstore owner using any abilities. However, having a Kingdom delegate living so close to Nemo’s rented place was far from appropriate.
As a result, no related criminal fingerprint records were found in either the United States or Canada. After investigating the Polish elderly man’s personal information on his business license application, it was found that he had been living in the United States for nearly forty years, unmarried, which fit the bookstore owner’s reclusive image.
Pressing the gang leaders in the W9 district who obediently pay protection fees should yield some answers to a certain extent. The problem is, Nemo doesn’t want to stir up trouble just yet. Is the Polish old man just a puppet? Are there other superpowered individuals involved?
Boss Liu and Sunny Jie lived here, and Nemo and Tolya had just managed to establish their status as new immigrants in W9 District. Unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace. Eventually, they would have to get used to coexisting with superpowered individuals, just as people had learned to coexist with the gangs.
Now, the necessary reason had appeared.