Novels2Search

Part I

Johto region…

"In other news, authorities are still in the dark about the whereabouts of crime lord Falcone Xicato. Xicato, who was unmasked last year as the ringleader of the biggest arms dealing operation in the history of Johto, was last seen after he escaped the police when they attempted to arrest him at his residence in Goldenrod City. Two officers were injured in the ensuing confrontation. Shortly after this, his ex-wife and daughter were also allegedly abducted from their own homes and it is believed they could have been taken hostage…"

The aforementioned crime lord, a man in his forties with a hard face and black hair with a few gray streaks dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit, was hiding in an old hangar, as he awaited the private plane that would fly him out of town. Tired of the same news report every time, he turned off the TV. The last thing he needed right now was the reminder of how his major operations had been exposed and most of his assets were frozen, all because of a certain silly-costumed vigilante. His only choice now was escaping from Johto's borders, but he wouldn't leave without his most prized non-monetary treasures.

"It's almost time," he said checking his wristwatch. "Just a little more, honey, and we can leave this place."

"We're not going anywhere with you." A red-haired woman, tied along with her sixteen-year-old daughter to a column, glared at him in defiance. They had stopped struggling a while ago, once they realized it was futile to try and break free. "Don't you see we don't want to have anything to dowith you?"

"Is that how you thank me?" Falcone asked. "For everything I gave you? Everything you have now, your house, your car, your money, it's all thanks to me."

"You mean thanks to your dirty business," the daughter snapped. "Did you ever make an honest penny in your entire life?"

Falcone did not reply. He might have been the leader of a criminal empire, but something was for sure: he loved his wife and daughter, and it broke him completely when Veronica discovered what he did and immediately filed for divorce, as well as full custody of their daughter Victoria. Why couldn't they understand that everything he did was for them, so they would always be provided for?

"Sir, we've just gotten radio contact. The plane will be here in five minutes," said one of his bodyguards.

"Good. Get everything ready, we're leaving tonight. A permanent vacation at Pummelo Island is just what the family needs right now."

On the hangar's roof, a shadowy figure listened closely through a microphone in his gauntlet, connected to the earphones in his mask. Five minutes, he needed to act fast to prevent his escape.

There was one loose end in his investigation. He had frozen all of Falcone's assets when he exposed his arms dealing operations, except one thing: he had an account in Pummelo Island with his first savings, the only ones coming from legitimate business. Perhaps not enough to direct a dead criminal empire, but definitely enough to live well off out of the law's reach, and potentially opening the way for a return. He couldn't let him get away so he could rebuild his old empire from the ashes.

"You're not getting away, Falcone, let alone with two innocent women. Tonight you're facing justice one way or another."

Equipped with his battle suit's latest version, he could have easily renamed himself as "Gliscorman", due to the dark purple and red accents it showed. But for Adam Parker, the name Gligarman would always be his heroic identity.

The suit's changes were more than purely aesthetic: in his advanced age his reflexes and physical condition had gone past their prime, so to make up for it, it was reinforced against firearms, had several built-in concealed weapons, and was equipped with servomotors in the articulations to greatly boost his physical strength. He had replaced his old cape with a pair of retractable wings under the arms, that could easily double as an improvised parachute as needed.

The suit had definitely helped in taking down the guards watching the hangar's backdoor, so he could safely climb up to the roof and listen through the glass. That night the sky was clouded, so the moonlight wouldn't give him away. Several minutes ago he had activated a transponder to send a radio signal to the police department. All he had to do was prevent Falcone from leaving until his friends on the force came along.

"Gligar?" his trusty partner asked as he perched over his shoulder.

"Yes, Gligar. Distract them for a while to set up my grand entrance," Gligarman said as he pulled out of his belt a glass cutter.

Carefully, he cut out a piece of the window, just big enough for Gligar to pass. The flying scorpion snuck into the building through it and hid between the beams to wait for a bit. Meanwhile, our hero went towards the other side. While Gligar attacked from above, he would cut off their escape through the main entrance.

Back inside, Falcone's bodyguards were busy stacking up some boxes. They contained the last gift from their boss for their long faithful service, a reward for helping him escape the law's long arms.

"This is it. You guys won't have to work anymore for about four or five years. You can manage without me."

"We're gonna miss you, sir," the goon said as he accepted the last box. Shortly after they heard the plane's engines approaching. "Well, looks like your flight has arrived. Have a nice trip."

The man nodded, and gestured his other bodyguards to untie his ex-wife and daughter. Both women glared at him, but with those guns pointed at them, they couldn't try anything funny. Not like he was planning to hurt them, but they didn't need to know that. At least until they had left the Johto borders. Nobody would stop them, not even that guy…

"GLIGAR!"

A barrage of needles rained over Falcone and his henchmen, who quickly tried to take cover. Falcone himself pulled out a gun from inside his jacket, and much to his disgust, he saw an all too familiar Pokémon hovering over him. Wherever that Gligar went, Gligarman wasn't too far away.

"I should have guessed," he said dryly, and pulled the trigger.

The Gligar dodged the shot with a speedy descent and maneuvered using Double Team to confuse everyone in the room. The goons quickly grabbed their weapons to open fire, but with so many clones all over the place, it didn't take long for them to waste their ammo, and Falcone himself was brought down by a Quick Attack to his stomach. Several of the goons quickly grabbed some Pokéballs and threw them, unleashing several Raticate and Golbat to try and attack the elusive Gligar.

"Urgh…" Falcone groaned as he tried to get back on his feet, and saw the ongoing brawl as everyone tried to catch Gligar, but one by one the Pokémon fell in one swoop. "You! Bring the rest of the guys, now!"

The goon who got the order quickly ran for the entrance door. They had more men watching the perimeter just in case the cops or Gligarman arrived to cause trouble. They could overpower him with sheer numbers easily.

Or so he thought, before a winged figure fell on top of him just as he set foot outside, knocking him unconscious.

"Hold it right there, criminal scum!" he said as he rose to full height, outstretching his arms and raising his leg. "I'm afraid your flight has just been cancelled!"

The criminals glanced at him, torn between annoyance that he had come to meddle with their plans, and embarrassment that he still did that ridiculous pose. One of them took a look at his costume, noticing how different it looked from their previous encounters.

"Sembra che il tipo abbia aggiornato il suo ridicolo costume da Halloween," he muttered in his native language, causing the others to snicker a bit.

Gligarman was not amused. "È una tuta da combattimento, e non è ridicola, idioti."

The snickers stopped, and Gligarman took a more serious stance. Once they reloaded their weapons they focused their gunfire on the costumed vigilante while they let their Pokémon out to try to deal with his Gligar, who easily brought them down with his Double Team decoys and a combo of Quick Attacks and Swift barrages.

Gligarman swung his hand to hurl a series of razor projectiles. Three of them got stuck in the goons' weapons and exploded, knocking them out of their hands and making them groan in pain. The vigilante seized the chance to jump on them, quickly taking them out with a few punches to their faces, while the others tried surrounding him and Falcone tried to make a run for it.

"Get him, you fools! It's only one guy in a silly costume!" he yelled.

As he knocked a couple of goons out cold, Gligarman internally wished they didn't mock his costumes. Sure, he did start with a rather bright and colorful one before shifting through several other designs, settling for the current darker one, but that was so kids wouldn't be afraid of him. He wanted to be seen as a symbol of hope, not of fear. Except maybe for criminals of course.

After dispatching the last one, he ran towards the two women, and pulled out another Gligarang to cut their ropes.

"Don't panic, I'll release you right away."

"Look out!" the daughter yelled as they looked behind him.

He turned around just in time to see one of Falcone's goons delivering a punch to his lower face, right where his mask didn't protect him. Before he could get back up, a heavy foot stomped hard on his left knee, causing him to yell as he actually felt a brief yet painful crack in it.

"Looks like you've gotten soft in your golden age," the goon said as he cracked his knuckles. "It's because of guys like you that guys like me have it so hard in life."

"Sorry about that," Gligarman replied, managing to get back up as he tried to put up with the pain in the knee. The guy lunged at him, but his fists only met the reinforced arms of his gauntlets, and a right hook to his face left him out cold. "Now, where's my dear friend Falcone?"

"He's getting away!" The woman pointed above.

Gligarman turned around to see Falcone was climbing up the ladder to the hangar's roof. It would be pointless anyway since the police would arrive at any second, but he felt he shouldn't let him out of his sight. Meanwhile, Gligar finished taking down the last Golbat of the group and came to perch on his trainer's shoulder again.

"Take them outside and make sure they remain safe. I'll deal with Falcone myself," he said.

"Gligar!" Gligar nodded, and he flew away with Victoria and Veronica running after him. Gligarman meanwhile pulled out his grapple gun and fired it upwards to follow the fleeing criminal.

Once outside, it quickly became clear that the police would arrive shortly: sirens wailed and red and blue lights could be seen in the distance. He saw Gligar guiding the fleeing women to the nearby road, but he couldn't get distracted now. His priority was apprehending Falcone himself and put an end to his career once and for all.

As soon as Falcone saw him he tried to shoot at him, but one well-aimed Gligarang was enough to knock the gun off the roof. In desperation, the former crime lord tried to lunge at the vigilante, throwing punch after punch, only for them to get either blocked or dodged and then Falcone got single one to his jaw that almost knocked him off the roof. Gligarman made sure to hold back enough: a fall like that could easily kill him.

Down below, the red and blue lights illuminated the scene, and the police officers left their cars as they began to round up Falcone's men. Above them, a helicopter descended and illuminated Falcone with its searchlight, briefly blinding him. The plane had managed to safely land on the strip, but another helicopter ensured that they wouldn't get it to take off again.

"Falcone Xicato! We have you completely surrounded!" the helicopter's pilot shouted through the speakers. "Surrender yourself now!"

"It's the end of the line, Falcone," said Gligarman. "Turn yourself in; don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Never!" the gangster replied. "There's no way I'm going behind bars!"

"You have no choice. You've lost everything, all you have left is facing justice for your crimes."

"You're only half-right on that," Falcone said. "I've lost almost everything. My wife, my daughter, my money, and my successful empire. All because of you."

The gangster paused to glance around. The only noises heard were the helicopter's blades and the police cars' sirens. He then glared at the costumed hero, who remained on guard in case he tried something funny.

"But there's one thing I'll never give up. My freedom." He stepped backwards, and much to Gligarman's horror, he opened his arms wide.

"Wait… you're not planning to-"

"I was hoping to get a flight to freedom tonight," Falcone said smiling evilly. "Guess I'll just have to take it the other way. I'd rather die than rot in jail."

"NO! DON'T DO THAT!" Gligarman yelled as he outstretched a hand. He had to stop him.

"Addio… Gligarman."

The vigilante tried to run as fast as he could to stop his foe, only for his injured knee to send out a discharge of pain all over his leg that forced him to stop and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Falcone was no longer in sight, and just a few seconds later, he heard the thud down below.

Shocked and speechless, the vigilante walked slowly to the roof's edge, and gathering up courage, he took a look. Falcone lied there, motionless, spread out on the asphalt, while the officers began to gather around to check out. He saw how one of them approached him cautiously to check the pulse, and shook his head to confirm it. He had done it. He had actually done it, and Gligarman had not been able to stop it.

A few minutes later, the goons had all been apprehended, and the police was cording the area around Falcone's corpse and the plane he was planning to use for his escape. Gligarman had taken a moment's rest, and his friend on the force kindly enough spared him a few minutes so he could bandage his injured knee.

"How does it feel?"

"I'll live. Thanks, Gio," he replied.

Her full name was Giordanna Jenny, but he would often call her just 'Gio' as a sign of their trust and friendship. The two had worked together for years, since the time she was just a detective up to when she rose as the city's police commissioner, and she was one of the few people who knew his secret identity.

"When I said I wanted Falcone to be taken down at any cost, I never meant it this way," she said with sadness. "Now he'll never face justice for his crimes."

"I'm sorry," Gligarman apologized. Gio gave him a puzzled look.

"Why? It's not your fault that he jumped off the roof to his death."

"I should have stopped him," said Gligarman. "If I had…"

"Hey," Gio interrupted him. "Don't go blaming yourself for anything. Plus, thanks to you and Gligar, his ex-wife and daughter are safe in our custody. That's enough reason for us to be happy. Go home and rest, we'll take over from here."

Gligarman sighed, but he figured there was nothing left to do. Fortunately he could still ride his Gligarcycle back home safely, and once Gligar perched back on his shoulder, he took to the road. One way or another, his duty was done.

Parker didn't bother going back to his bed that night. He spent the night in his hideout, bunker, or simply "Gligarcave", as he called it when he first discovered it.

The place had come to serve a myriad of purposes: it was his base of operations, private workshop for his new projects, training place, or simply where he went whenever he needed time for himself. It was also a place of history: there were quite a few trophies of his past adventures (or 'souvenirs' as he called them in his early days), and several of his old gadgets and costumes. He especially remembered his first one fondly, even if some made fun of him wearing those blue trunks on the outside.

Decades ago, he had been just a humble toymaker who wanted to promote his merchandise, and so he created his Gligarman costumed persona as a publicity stunt. And then one day, he stopped a purse-snatcher from getting away, and the kids who happened to see him innocently asked him if he was a superhero. Somehow those words got to him and thus the real Gligarman was born. It did wonders for his business too: in less than ten years his little store had grown into the biggest toy factory in the Johto region. But nothing could compare to the thrill and satisfaction he felt for fighting crime and protecting the innocent. That seemed to be his real call.

Sadly, as he glanced at the case holding his latest costume, memories of what he considered his greatest failure came back to his mind. That fateful night, where he made a vow to himself, one that he was unable to keep when he let Falcone commit suicide.

"Gligar?" his partner asked him as he perched on his shoulder again.

"I'm fine. It's just… I wonder if I'm getting too old for this," he said.

"Gar."

No matter what his old friend Gio had said. That night so many years ago, that woman, criminal as she was, died because he was too shocked to act. In his defense though, anyone would've been unsettled by the sight of a bunch of children gleefully killing their own mother in such a gruesome manner. He saw it in their eyes: they had just been waiting for that moment, and jumped on the chance to get rid of her.

Since then, he promised himself he would never let anyone, not even a criminal, die on his watch ever again. He was determined to bring Falcone to justice so he could stand trial for his crimes. But Falcone was dead, because he was too old, too slow to reach him and stop him from killing himself.

"No… I can't do this anymore," he said, as he placed a hand on the glass that separated him from his costume.

Even without the knee injury, and with his newest battle suit, he wouldn't be able to fight at his best. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing someone else die because of him, regardless of whether it was a criminal, or worse, an innocent. He wasn't fit for crimefighting anymore. Perhaps it was time to take to his other call, of being a toymaker, and a family man.

Parker walked upstairs, still slightly limping as he went up, and stopped right next to the switch. He reminisced of his adventures one last time, glancing at his old trophies. The flying hat with a razor trim that almost cut his head once, the giant coin he was once strapped to and launched through the air, the giant mechanical Tyrantrum (that he still had no idea how he ended up fitting in that place), all of them fond memories. It saddened that he didn't have anyone to pass onto his heroic legacy, but he had to accept reality. His days as Gligarman had come to an end.

"It's over."

And so, he turned off the lights of the Gligarcave never to turn them back on, and shut the doors never to open them again.

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Many years after…

Old habits die hard, and in Parker's case the crimefighting itch was one that refused to go away completely. Even though he wasn't fit to fight criminals directly anymore, he was still able to support the police through his extensive intelligence network, providing them with valuable information whenever they needed a hand.

Even when there were no cases to solve, Parker enjoyed playing detective just to kill time. After his retirement, his influence had expanded quite a bit in Johto and beyond. Over the past years he was surprised to see an uprising of other costumed heroes, such as the Blaziken Mask in Kalos, or the Mighty Accelguard in Unova, who continued his crimefighting tradition. However, in response to the recent crime wave in Johto a very particular opposition arose. A trio of heroes who were much more than costumes and expensive toys.

"Again with that, Dad?" He heard his daughter's voice. Latoya brought him breakfast on a tray, and he had been so focused on his computer he took a while to notice.

"One should kill time somehow, don't you think?" Parker asked, while his daughter placed the tray on the table.

"Sometimes I just don't get you. What's your obsession with these masked vigilantes?"

"They're more than masked vigilantes, dear. These guys are real heroes, like I used to be."

Latoya was practically the spitting image of her mother when they first met. They shared almost everything: the same red-purple hair slightly curled upwards on the sides, the same eyes, and even the same height at that age. But there was one glaring difference: Latoya was a bit more skeptical and cynical about some things.

"They're bloodliners. To be honest, I find it hard to believe they'd use their abilities unless they had some ulterior motive. I mean, who knows what else they're capable of?"

"Well, you might change your opinion when you see who they are under their masks."

Parker turned back his attention to the computer, and opened a folder with three specific files. Each one had a particular label: Decid-Arrow, Flashstrika and Flamestorm, collectively known as the Night Watchers, the names the common folk had given the vigilante trio in the past few years, and they seemed to have gladly embraced them. Parker opened the first file and it displayed a full profile. On top of everything there was the photo of a familiar face for both of them: a man with blond hair, green eyes and a slight trim beard. Latoya began reading out loud.

"Oliver Hawke, age thirty two, CEO of Hawke Industries since his father's passing. So you're telling me he's one of them?"

"See for yourself," her father replied. "Oliver's father and I were good friends until he died, so I know the kid pretty well. And look at this."

He played a video showing Decid-Arrow, dressed in his full suit with the Decidueye mask and the dark green hooded cloak, deploying himself to pull out a retractable bow from his left gauntlet, and then firing a Spirit Shackle arrow.

"Oliver was the archery club's captain back in his school days, so it wouldn't be too hard to deduce where he got that aim and superb mastery of the bow and arrow."

Latoya didn't say anything, so she instead continued reading the profile, showing Oliver's life résumé and some of the videos of him appearing under his costumed persona. He showcased other abilities such as disappearing through the floor and the walls, or other attacks like Leaf Tornado. Eight years before, Oliver had been lost and presumed dead at sea when his private yatch sank, but he returned to civilization safe and sound, just in time to assume leadership of his family's company when his father passed away a few months later.

"Next," Latoya requested. Her father clicked on the file labeled as Flashstrika. The screen showed a guy with auburn hair, a few years younger than Oliver and with a rather jovial demeanor, highlighted by his amber-colored eyes. "Bartholomew J. West, age twenty seven. Until a few years ago he was a rescuer from Nimbasa City's fire department, until an incident during a thunderstorm when he was struck by a lightning bolt. Somehow he survived both the lightning and the fall, but he was in a coma for nine months, until he mysteriously vanished from the hospital one day."

"And here's the interesting part," said Parker, as he showed several short clips of the speedster wearing the black suit with white lightning streaks all over. "Eye witnesses have said that the day he disappeared there was a power outage, and some of them claim to have seen a lightning moving through the darkness at great speed. Seems familiar to you?"

Obviously he referred to the electric trail he left in his wake whenever he ran. The fact the description matched the incident of his vanishing from the hospital couldn't be just coincidence. Once again, the pieces all fell into place.

"Let's check the last one," said Latoya, prompting her father to open the third file, labeled as Flamestorm. This time it showed on screen a man in-between the other two in age, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, and in the videos he appeared as a guy with a red and yellow costume shooting fire from the skies. "Ronald Storm, age twenty nine, formerly a structural engineer. He was presumed dead in the Johto thermoelectric plant that exploded eight years ago, when he single-handedly contained the blast long enough for the workers to escape safely, but nobody knows how he did it, or how he made it out of there, for that matter."

"The answer is in this photo," said Parker. The photo in question was from the incident, taken by a bystander who happened to be in the zone when the explosion occurred. Parker zoomed into the upper right corner, where they could see, almost imperceptible with the normal zoom, a very small fire strand flying away out of the plant and towards the night sky.

"Let me guess, that little fireball over there is him escaping the blast?"

"Can you think of something else?" her father asked.

Indeed, the videos showed the vigilante known as Flamestorm was able to shoot fire from any part of his body, and he was most commonly seen shooting fire streams from his hands and feet like makeshift rocket boosters to propel himself into the air. That would definitely explain how he got away from the plant's explosion that night. The fact that both his civilian and hero names included "Storm" was just a plus.

The three had a few things in common: they were all involved in incidents that pulled them out from public view for several years, until they reappeared almost at the same time. And shortly after that, the Night Watchers (called that since they mostly operated at night) began their activities. Plus, the latter two, Bartholomew and Ronald, were employed by Hawke Industries, apparently at Oliver's request when they found themselves unable to return to their former jobs.

"Well, this is interesting and all, but I don't know what you're planning to do with all this info." Latoya crossed her arms. "What's the point in investigating them and finding out their secret identities?"

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"I'm not sure," Parker admitted. "Call it a hunch. Somehow I get the feeling something big is about to happen, and that they'll all be involved."

Times had changed, and they would continue to change. The biggest change was of course the birth of so many bloodliners, humans with powers and abilities like those of Pokémon. Back in his time, forty years ago men like him and Samuel Oak had been able to make the world enter a new era, and it seemed they were approaching another turning point for change. Would it be a new age of heroes, or perhaps a rising of criminals like never before? That was his concern, the question he wanted an answer for.

"You'll have time to think it over later. Remember, we have a party to attend," Latoya said. "Do you want me to pick your suit?"

"No, it's fine," Parker replied as he took a sip from his coffee. "I'll do it later myself."

Of course, he couldn't forget about that night's event. Politician Kellen Roberts was hosting a charity event, and he was to be a major sponsor for his campaign in the upcoming senator elections.

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That evening…

Attending charity events was nothing new for the Parkers, though over the years it had become difficult to hang out with the high society snobs. In fact, many of them only took part in those events to keep up their images and reputations, not because they actually cared for helping the needy.

Of course, the exception proved the rule. One of the reasons why Parker supported Roberts' politics was his position of helping the lower classes to progress more, but more than giving away benefits, it sought to get them into the workforce and use their talents so they could help themselves, thus contributing to the general economy.

That night though, he wasn't particularly interested in that. His main goal was to approach the son of his late old friend and talk to him from hero to hero, so to speak, though that wouldn't be easy with so many people around. He needed to talk to him where they couldn't be overheard or interrupted. Latoya offered to walk around the party to search for him, and in the meantime, he was staying by the table enjoying a drink.

"Good evening, Mr. Parker. I'm glad you could make it."

Surprise, the host himself had come to greet him. Kellen Edward Roberts was a man in his forties, though at first glance anybody would believe he was at least a decade younger. He had dark brown hair and wore thick square-framed glasses. That night he was wearing a black tuxedo with a white bowtie, and a fleur-de-lis.

"Good evening, Mr. Roberts," said Parker as he shook his hand. "Or should I call you, future senator Roberts?"

"It's still a bit too soon for that," Roberts replied with a smile. "I hope you and your daughter are enjoying the party. Speaking of, where is she?"

"Looking for someone else among the guests. Someone we're hoping to talk to tonight," said Parker, not going into deeper detail about it. "By the way, how's the campaign going?"

"We've had some issues, but we've managed to get a lot of support. Of course, not everyone is happy about it." Roberts grimaced slightly at the last part.

"Let me guess: it's Swietenia again?"

Roberts nodded. "Then again, the guy has always been rather unpleasant with things he disagrees with. It's bad enough that our region has its reputation just because of a few guys like him, and let's not talk about us who come from Azalea Town. I mean, not all of us are a bunch of Slowpoke-worshipping fanatics, are we?"

Parker nodded. Azalea Town had earned some infamy due to several nasty incidents involving bystanders who accidentally tripped, stepped on or otherwise touched Slowpoke tails. They usually ended with said bystanders chased out until they ran past the town's limits, or if they were caught, beaten up, badly. There was one time they went overboard and beat up a man so badly that he was sent to the hospital with polytraumatism in the head, and sadly he died a few hours after afterwards. All because his daughter accidentally stepped on a Slowpoke tail trying to save a baby carriage from being rolled over by traffic.

After that incident, Parker collaborated with Roberts in a project to relocate the Slowpoke wandering around the Azalea streets to a reserve area where they could live without being bothered by humans and prevent more incidents like that one. The measure had been successful, though there were other problems arising, and Swietenia and many of his followers didn't help.

"I've heard he's been trying to pass anti-bloodliner laws," Parker said to break the silence. "What do you think about it?"

"Swietenia is a guy who is afraid of what he doesn't understand, and rather than trying to see things from the other side, he prefers to nip anything he doesn't agree with in the bud. Like bloodliners, vigilantes, and especially bloodliner vigilantes."

Parker nodded. "He's more prone to judge people for what they could do rather than what they have done. What's your own stance about them, though?"

"You should know." Roberts smiled. "I was aboard the train that day, when those Team Rocket agents attempted to derail it. I owe them my life; if it wasn't for them we wouldn't be talking right now. And it's not just me; they have saved many other lives during all these years. It wouldn't be grateful of me to pass laws against them when they do a service to the community."

Despite having so many enemies for his more liberal stances, the truth was that the Azalea Town politician was more open-minded about trying to find new possibilities and see every perspective, never judging people on biased assumptions or criteria. That alone had earned him a lot of approval during the past few months, and it would continue to grow.

"Mr. Roberts." One of the event's employees came to them. "We've got the podium ready for your speech, sir."

"Thank you. Well, I must take my leave. Pleasure in talking to you, Mr. Parker."

"The pleasure was all mine, sir."

While Roberts left with the employee, Parker went for another drink as he glanced around the hall. A few minutes later, Latoya finally returned.

"Did you find him?"

"Yeah but… I think he's got his hands full right now," she said as she pointed over her shoulder.

Parker looked behind his daughter. Indeed, Oliver Hawke was there, wearing his elegant suit and surrounded by a quartet of attractive women with whom he exchanged drinks and words, and they laughed at his jokes.

The retired superhero couldn't help but chuckle. Another common tendency of masked heroes was to project two different images when in and out of costume to protect their identities. In his case, back in his day he was an affable yet professional toymaker by day, and by night as Gligarman, he would let loose his sense of humor a little more, as a way to provoke the criminals and humiliate them once he got them. Oliver, on the other hand, preferred to take a "millionaire playboy by day, and intimidating vigilante by night" approach.

"Well, I guess that means it'll be better to talk to him after the event ends. Thanks sweetie," Parker said.

Father and daughter remained silent for quite a while, until the speakers announced the host was about to deliver his speech. Everyone began gathering in front of the podium in the center of the hall, and the aspiring senator got in position, before clearing his throat and addressing the crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It is a pleasure to see so many of you tonight. I would like to take the chance to give my thanks to those who have offered their support for my senator campaign."

Roberts sent a look to where the Parkers were, who smiled and nodded back, prompting him to continue his speech.

"But today I won't talk about politics. As you all know, the goal of this event is to gather funds for the new extension for the Goldenrod Trainer Academy. Having been a Pokémon trainer myself in my youth, I want to support the new generation so they have a bigger chance to chase their dreams…"

Parker and the rest of the crowd continued to listen to Roberts' speech with a lot of interest. If there was something else that defined him, it was his affinity for Pokémon. He had been an exceptional trainer, having a rather famous team in Johto for winning several League Conferences, both in his home region and abroad. Even though they were retired, they were still living legends for many, and a source of inspiration for the new emerging generation of young trainers.

Nevertheless, Parker knew from experience that even during quiet moments he couldn't let his guard down, and while he still had his attention on the host, his eyes and ears were alert for any movement or activity that could be considered out of the norm.

For example, when one of the attendants removed his glasses, apparently to clean them, and suddenly placed them in a position to reflect the light from the lamp hanging above.

Instinctively, Parker's eyes gave a quick glance across the room. The place was rather ample and there was little-to-no place to hide from sight… save for the balconies in the upper floor. So it didn't come as much of a surprise when he spotted in one of them a small glint, one way too familiar for his taste.

The glint of a firearm about to be fired.

"WATCH OUT ABOVE!" he yelled pointing above and interrupting the speech.

Everybody's attention went to that place, barely with a second's notice before the projectile was fired, right towards Roberts. The bullet hit him straight on the chest and everyone began screaming in horror as they saw him fall next to his podium. The security staff quickly moved and pulled out their guns, but the sniper had vanished from the balcony as the people around went into a frenzy of panic, most of them trying to run for the nearest exit, and the few who stayed tried to use their phones to call the police.

Parker and his daughter stayed back trying to help evacuate those who were left paralyzed by fear, though the father managed to catch on that Oliver took advantage of the chaos to vanish from the scene when he thought nobody was watching. And by "vanish", it meant "vanish by phasing through a wall". Fortunately nobody else saw it, so Parker took the chance to approach Roberts to check on him.

"Mr. Roberts!" he called out, while the security staff tried to keep him away.

"Ugh… it's fine… I'm fine…" Roberts started moving, rubbing himself on the place where he had been shot, ripping open his suit to reveal a concealed bulletproof vest underneath. "This is gonna hurt tomorrow."

"What a relief," Parker asked. "That sniper… how the hell did he get in here?"

"That's irrelevant," the bodyguard said. "What matters now is that this area isn't safe, sir, we need to get you out of here."

As the bodyguard helped Roberts get back on his feet, Parker glanced around once again. Mysteriously, the guy who had made the gesture with his glasses has all but vanished. Somehow he felt that had been a signal for the sniper, a call to take his shot, so it was all planned.

And his suspicions grew even more when instead of leaving through the front door, the bodyguard led Roberts to the back exit. At first glance it seemed like a sensible choice: a route to get away from sight, but also a place where an ambush could be set up.

Moved by a spark of his instinct, Parker immediately ran after them.

"Dad! Where're you going?! Dad!" Latoya cried out, but he didn't listen. He had to go and do something, whatever it was. The itch to play hero had returned; he couldn't stay put.

After running through a few hallways, he managed to catch up to Roberts and his bodyguards, following at safe distance to avoid being spotted. However, he stopped abruptly after hearing a couple more of shots, and an exchange of blows. When he dared take a peek, he saw Roberts' bodyguards lying on the ground, with only him and the perpetrator still standing.

Said perpetrator was wearing an armored suit, made of black leather with a few protective plates on the chest, shoulders, gloves and boots. He carried a sniper rifle hanging from his back, and a utility belt that carried holders for a couple of knives and handguns. His face was concealed by a helmet-mask with red goggles that resembled those of a skier. Roberts was motionless, but from what he could hear, he was trying to show defiance to his attacker.

"Very smart, Mr. Roberts. If it wasn't because aiming for the head isn't as easy as people believe. I didn't expect you'd be wearing a protective vest."

"I see they weren't exaggerating when saying that I should be wearing it," Roberts replied. "Who are you, and why are you targeting me?"

"Just a professional," the sniper replied. "Don't take it personally, this is just a job."

Parker saw how the guy drew a handgun from his belt, and almost gave in to the urge to jump him to protect Roberts, but someone else beat him to it: a dark green caped shadow phased through the ceiling and landed behind the aggressor. Without a word he grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to the other side of the corridor.

Parker took the moment to leave his hiding place, seeing the Ghost Archer himself, Decid-Arrow, face-to-face for the first time, and a Roberts who was still in shock for what happened and still hadn't fully assimilated it.

"I'll take it from here, go!" Decid-Arrow yelled.

"Come with me, Mr. Roberts!" Parker yelled to snap the politician out of it, and they both ran in the opposite direction, though Parker still glanced one last time to see the caped vigilante engaging the sniper in a fistfight.

For the lack of a better alternative, Parker led Roberts through a fire exit, always on alert in case there was someone ready to ambush them again. Fortunately, they were able to reach the parking lot safely, and without wasting a minute they headed for Parker's car, where Latoya was waiting for them on the driver's seat. She seemed a bit angry, but was clearly more out of worry than anything else.

"Where the hell were you, Dad?!" she shouted as she opened the door.

"I'll tell you later, step on the gas and let's go!" her father replied. "To the Police Station, now!"

The girl still had a few things to say, but she complied, and started the car to get them all out of there. By that moment, the parking lot had been cleared off for the most part, and they were able to get out rather quickly.

As they drove away from the party hall, Parker glanced at the building. Had Decid-Arrow not arrived when he did, Roberts would probably be dead now. He had been there, but there was nothing he could have done. He wasn't Gligarman anymore after all, and in any case, what could he have done with that sniper who was clearly a walking armory?

Within the safety of the Police Station, the first thing Roberts asked for was some cold water to calm his nerves, and something to call home, since his cellphone had been pierced by the bullet the sniper had fired at him. Parker lent him his own cellphone, and he had been using it for the past half an hour to talk to his wife; hearing her voice seemingly put him at ease after such an ordeal.

"Whatever happens, keep an eye out. I'll be back as soon as I can, so don't stay up and wait for me, okay? I love you, goodnight honey."

"Is everything okay?" Parker asked.

"Yeah, thank Arceus." Roberts nodded. "Apparently the security staff spotted some fellows in black strolling around the block, but they didn't move in. I told her to stay in the safe chamber just in case, though."

"I can't believe this," said Latoya. "Who was that guy?"

"A contract assassin, most likely," Parker replied. "He said something about it 'being a job', didn't he?"

Roberts nodded. "Should I feel flattered? It's the first time someone sends a hitman against me."

"Mr. Roberts, this is no joking matter," Latoya chided him.

"Sorry. It's just… I don't even know what to think about this." The politician exhaled.

"Mr. Roberts," the stationed Jenny called him, "we're ready to take your testimony. We'll also need your vest and cellphone as evidence."

"Sure," he said before turning to the Parkers. "I'll be back when I'm done with that, alright?"

Father and daughter nodded, and the politician left for questioning. For the time being, there was nothing left to do but wait until they were called as well. Latoya gripped her coat and gave a heavy sigh.

"So… guys in black going around the Roberts' residence, and the same night he's targeted by a killer. Coincidence?"

"I don't think so." Parker shook his head. "For all we know, they could have been waiting to ambush him, just in case the attempt at the party failed."

"So much for taking a night off to relax, huh?"

Parker just gave her a glance, and then looked at the interrogation room's door. With all that had happened that night it'd be a while before they could go home. The police had plenty of questions for Roberts, and they sure enough would have their fair share for Parker as well.

Something was going on in their city, he could feel it. His old superhero sixth sense was clicking in for something big. And he didn't like that feeling; it never bode well.

----------------------------------------

A couple nights later…

"In tonight's news, the charity event host by Azalea politician Kellen Roberts was ruined due to what clearly was an assassination attempt. Roberts has refused to give any declarations for the time being, although there are rumors that it could be one of his political rivals trying to get him out of his run in the future senator elections to be held in six months as announced."

"I'm not going to point fingers to anyone," Roberts declared. "Regardless of who might have hired that assassin, or the reasons why, I can assure you they'll be brought to justice. That'll be all."

"Despite what happened, Roberts has announced the event will continue tonight as scheduled, with increased security and a bigger police presence. Security has also been increased at his residence since eyewitnesses report to have seen men in black strolling around the area suspiciously. The authorities are-"

Parker turned off the TV. He didn't need to see the rest of the report: after all he had been there firsthand to see it all. And after that eventful night, he had been unable to shut his eyes.

He had many reasons to feel at unease. For starters, with that guy's attack he was unable to properly approach Oliver about his secret, and even though there weren't any casualties, many in the security staff were hurt and ended up hospitalized. Furthermore, he doubted that the perpetrator would give up that easily, since he had been reported to have vanished from the scene shortly after the masked vigilante confronted him.

And there he was, in front of his computer and completely helpless to do anything about it. He hated feeling that powerless. He could have gone to the continued charity event, but he seriously wasn't in the mood for parties.

The feeling was fortunately short-lived, since as if answering his prayers, a video call signal went off in his monitor. He clicked the icon, and the screen showed none other than his long-time friend in the police force.

"Hey Gio, good to see you," he greeted her with a smile.

"Same here. I wish we could talk in better circumstances, but considering what happened the other night…"

"I know. If there's anything I can do to help, you have but to ask."

"Thank you," the elderly Jenny replied. "To be honest, I have a favor to ask of you. The forensics guys have been investigating the scene, and they found something that intrigues me."

"What is it?" Parker asked with interest.

"After checking the bullet we found in Roberts' Kevlar vest, we discovered it was laced with a strange alkaloid. Its composition doesn't match with our available database, and I thought..."

"Say no more," Parker interrupted her. "Do you have the analysis?"

"I'm sending you my copy of the results as we speak," Gio replied. "What intrigues me the most is that we didn't find it in any other bullet fired that night: only in that one."

The file took about fifteen seconds to fully transfer, and Parker set the cursor on it to display the alkaloid.

And his face paled in shock.

"This is…"

"Do you recognize it?"

"It's the personal signature of the international killer known as 'The Pride Sniper'," said Parker in a low voice.

"Wait a minute... isn't that the contract assassin most wanted by Interpol?" asked Gio, clearly alarmed at such thoughts.

"Indeed." Parker nodded. "He uses it specifically for the bullets destined to his targets. That way, even with a non-fatal wound, it guarantees the victim will die of poisoning in a few hours. Traces were found in all of his confirmed victims, since that's how he claims credit for those killings."

"I can't believe this; somebody actually hired him of all people to off Roberts?"

Parker grimaced: he could list at least ten people who'd want Roberts' head. Most of his programs had implemented measures to abandon traditions that were (to his judgment) too old-fashioned, useless and absurd. While the changes had been for the better in the long run, in short terms they usually caused a lot of stir, especially among his opponents.

The retired superhero couldn't point fingers, but he had a pretty good idea of who was the most likely to be at the top of that list.

"What are we going to do? That killer always ensures to tie all loose ends to prevent his clients from being found out, and he's never failed to kill a target, from what I've heard."

"Well, we'll have to be sure this becomes his first failure," Parker said. "Seems like my hunch turned out to be true. Something big is about to happen, and Roberts will be in the center of all."

He remained silent for a bit before continuing. The toymaker involuntarily looked at the old secret entrance to his hideout, the one he had closed for so long, and then turned back to his old friend from the force.

"Gio, I'll have to ask you to keep this a secret. It if comes to light, that killer could resort to much more dangerous methods to get his target, and he'll care little about collateral damage. And even if we do catch him, it won't do any good if we don't find out who hired him."

"Parker… I know that look in your eyes, are you thinking about…?"

Parker didn't reply. He'd been hearing that calling for a while, but didn't pay much attention to it until now. As a matter of fact, his main motivation to approach the son of his late friend had to do with it, but now… if this was much bigger than he thought, the new generation of costumed heroes could benefit from his experience and expertise.

"Do you trust me?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a fact.

"I trust your judgment, but keep me informed about what you do," the elderly policewoman replied. "You know I hate being locked out of the loop."

"Don't worry. If we want to catch that guy, I have the feeling we'll need all the help that we can get. Talk to you later."

And so he ended the call, and walked up to the old entrance. Latoya wouldn't be back for a while, so he figured she wouldn't notice if he went for a little walk at night.

If he couldn't approach Oliver during the party, there was another way to do so. And the sooner he did, the better.

----------------------------------------

Much later...

Latoya had offered to attend Roberts' event for the two of them, so she wouldn't be home that night. Good thing, that way she wouldn't see he was planning to swap his tuxedo for his old exosuit before he took to the streets once again.

Roof-hopping was no longer as easy as it used to be, and he needed to rely more on his gliding wings and grappling gun to get across the city. That said, he did feel a wave of nostalgia of his first nights on patrol, when he was a rookie hero trying to learn how to swing between buildings, imitating the "Amazing Spinarak-Man" comics. Those were good times.

Parker quickly shook off those thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand. In the past few years, while organized crime lords were less in numbers, those who managed to get a slice of the turf were more dangerous than in his time, and the small time crooks would occasionally take advantage of the night's darkness to do some 'late night shopping' every once in a while.

That night, there didn't seem to be any around the zone.

"Gligar!" His partner came over flying and perched on his arm, shaking his head.

"Nothing going on in this district? Well, I guess we'll have to hit the next…"

And when he was about to shoot his grappling hook, glasses breaking and an alarm going off got his attention. Focusing his mask's visor, he zoomed in the direction and saw a convenience store had just been rammed by a car, whose occupants were starting to come out all covered in ski masks.

"I suppose catching a few thieves tonight won't do any harm." He pulled out a couple of Gligarangs, ready to go down and give them a lesson.

However, before he could jump off the roof, a purple flash flew across the scene, straight to the assailants when they were about to get their booty into the car's trunk. The crook carrying the cash register was hit by the arrow and fell to the ground, so Gligarman glanced in the direction it came from, spotting the masked silhouette on another rooftop as he prepared another shot.

The driver quickly stepped on the gas and started the car, even while the other two crooks tried to call out for him, and wisely decided to hightail out of there before Decid-Arrow would get him. That'd make things easier for him: Parker didn't doubt the archer could handle those guys easily, but by giving him a little assist, he'd get the perfect chance to talk to him face to face.

"You go ahead, I'll catch up," Gligarman requested.

Gligar nodded and took off, flying after the getaway car. The veteran superhero quickly made use of his grappling gun aiming to the next building, and swung down to intercept.

The vehicle fled through a narrow alley and scrapped against one of the walls, but it kept moving forward, hitting every trash can in its way, and driving away the stray Pokémon trying to get food out of them to avoid getting hit.

The ride came to an end when Gligar got on the windshield, and the driver panicked and lost control. When he hit the brakes, the vehicle rolled over and flew through the alley, forcing Gligar to fly away and watch how it crashed a couple times until it fell upside down.

A few seconds later, the driver came out with difficulty through the broken windshield, with a few bruises and scratches but none the worse for wear, it seemed.

"Ugh…" he muttered as he tried to get back up, and a caped figure landed behind him and grabbed him by the collar. "Hey, let go! Let go of me or I-"

A gentle smack on the back of the neck silenced his screaming and flailing around, and he was left hanging by Gligarman's hand. A couple minutes later, Decid-Arrow made his entrance phasing through the walls, and he stopped upon seeing them. While Parker couldn't see it through the mask, he had the feeling the archer vigilante was probably surprised to see him.

"I hope you don't mind," said Gligarman as he pointed at the criminal. "I was in the neighborhood, and I thought you could use a little help."

"Appreciate it," the archer replied with gratitude. "Weren't you retired?"

"Things have changed." He placed the criminal on the ground and pulled out a set of cuffs to leave him ready for the police. Once he was done, he turned back to Decid-Arrow. "We need to talk."

A few minutes later, the cops had cordoned the area around the store and were taking the crooks in. In the meantime, the two caped vigilantes had retreated to a clear rooftop, away from prying eyes and ears.

"I think it's better if I cut straight to the point," Gligarman said. "For starters, I know who you are… Oliver."

Decid-Arrow flinched slightly at the name. Obviously, the last thing he wanted would be someone knowing who hid beneath the mask, so Gligarman tried to ease his worries by smiling and lifting his own mask, as well as deactivating his voice modulator, as a gesture of trust.

"I wanted to talk to you about this during the party, but we both know how that went down," he continued. "Rest easy, your secret is safe with me."

"How did you find out?" the archer asked, lowering his hood and removing his own mask to reveal the face of Oliver Hawke underneath. "I did my best to wipe any trace that could link me to the Night Watchers."

"And you did well, I admit it," Parker said. "But I started in the crimefighting business long before you were born, and I know the steps to cover the trail. Plus, this is much easier for us billionaires with expensive toys, isn't it?"

"I guess you're right," Oliver said, as they both donned their masks again. "Well, what did you want to talk about? I don't think you'd get into that costume after so long just for a party."

"Indeed. With how things have gotten lately, I can't help but feel something big is about to break out, and the events of the other night just confirmed my suspicions."

Decid-Arrow tilted his head slightly, so Gligarman took a deep breath before explaining. This would probably take a while.

"A friend of mine in the police force asked me to check off the records one of the bullets they retrieved yesterday at the place. Long story short, the clue leads to an infamous international hit man. Tell me, are you familiar with the assassin known as the Pride Sniper?"

"Not much. Only that they say he's the most effective and merciless, and he never fails to kill his targets. Was that the guy I fought last night?"

"That's right. I'm guessing you'll agree he wasn't your average thug. That guy is a professional."

"No kidding. Lucky for me that I wear a fire-resistant cape, or those fire grenades could have left a mark on me."

"With all that has been going on lately, I think your team and I could help each other in this," said Gligarman. "Do you think we could all meet up sometime? That way I can tell you all what I know at once."

Before Decid-Arrow could answer, a beep went off near the archer's ear, and he pressed to activate the communication signal.

"Decid-Arrow here, what's up?" he asked. Gligarman waited until he got his response. "Roger that, I'm on my way now. Out."

"Is there a problem?" Gligarman asked.

"Looks like there was an attack at Roberts' estate, but my friends have everything under control. If you want to come along, you can tell us everything you need. Plus, I think they'll be thrilled to meet you in person. You were… quite the inspiration for us, you know?"

Gligarman smiled, he felt flattered to know the new generation of heroes had been inspired by him. Without further words, he grabbed his grappling gun and gestured clearly for "let's go". Decid-Arrow pressed a button on his right gauntlet, pulling out a retractable mini-bow gun on his forearm. They both shot their hooks and cables to the nearest building, swinging as they made their way to the other end of the city.

A formidable team was about to gather very soon.

----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, at the city's outskirts…

If you wanted something done, you'd have to do it yourself, or so the saying went. The question was, how were you supposed to do something yourself, when your obstacles included a pair of freaks with superpowers?

Her client had hired her to steal the Pokémon belonging to the politician Kellen Roberts; worth millions on their own, since they had quite the history as Pokémon League Conference winners. What they wanted them for was irrelevant; all that mattered was the paycheck she had been offered for them. An easy job for a hefty sum, or so it seemed at first.

"I should have asked for at least three more digits to the payment. If only I had known I'd have to go up against those freaks…"

Having been out of Johto to avoid getting into Team Rocket's turf she had missed out on many of the news, as she could see right now in her monitor. Her plan was simple enough: raiding the politician's estate while he was out hosting an event. The security staff was no match for her men, but when those two showed up, everything went downhill.

At first glance they were just a pair of guys in silly costumes: the first one with a red and yellow suit, with gloves and boots sporting a flame design, and his hair literally on fire; while the second wore a black suit with white lightning streaks all over, and gave off electric sparks all over his body. The burning man flew through the air shooting fire streams and explosive spheres, while the other ran around with literal lightning speed, leaving an electric trail in his wake. Despite there being only two of them, they were able to defeat her henchmen in a matter of seconds, leaving them all set for the police to take them away. Of course, she knew they wouldn't talk, and should they feel the temptation… she had an insurance.

"Ma'am, we've got an incoming call on the restricted channel," her communications officer suddenly said.

"This better be important," said J. "Bring it up to visual."

The communications officer began pushing some keys, and a few seconds later the communications channel was open. The main monitor in front of J turned on, showing a man seemingly in his forties, with dark brown hair and wearing a pair of dark shades very similar to J's own. He had a rather enigmatic smile.

"Greetings, Pokémon Hunter J. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Spare me your flattery. Tell me who you are and what do you want by contacting me."

"In order, I'm a professional of the underworld, just like you. As for what I want, I'm contacting you with a proposal than can benefit both of us."

"Explain yourself," the hunter coldly replied. She had no time for small talk. "And you haven't answered my first question, who are you?"

"I have many names, but my pseudonym of choice at work is simply the Pride Sniper." He removed his shades, revealing a pair of red eyes. "You might have heard of me."

J didn't answer, but indeed, she had heard about him. Nobody knew his real name, but it was said that he was one of the best, if not the best, contract assassin in the criminal underworld. Just like her, he worked for money, but he kept a degree of trust with his contractors, always keeping his end of the deal and ensuring his clients would never get implicated in his killings.

"I'm aware of your recent attempt to steal the Pokémon collection belonging to politician Kellen Roberts, correct?" the guy continued. "Well, that means our jobs are connected. You see, he's my current target, and you perhaps know I always fulfill my contracts."

"And how does that concern me exactly?" J asked. "You said you had a business proposal."

"Isn't it obvious? From what I learned, you had some trouble with the local vigilantes, just like me. With them interfering it could be hard to achieve our goals. So my proposal is, we form a temporary alliance. I could provide you with technology that would help get those vigilantes out of your way. Plus, with Roberts out of the picture, stealing his Pokémon would be much easier for you."

"Tempting," the hunter admitted. "But why did you come to me? A professional like you should be able to handle something like this on his own."

"I could, yes, but it wouldn't be the most efficient way," the Pride Sniper declared. "Together we can cover more ground, and help each other divide our foes' attention. Don't get me wrong: this is just a simple job, and I wouldn't ask for more than you can do. The equipment to fight against a bloodliner is on me, of course."

"I take it you've had your share of run-ins with those freaks?" J replied, a little less tense now she had heard the offer.

"Once or twice," he replied. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

J half-smirked. She wasn't exactly fond of working with 'colleagues', but given the circumstances, she'd have to make an exception. That said, for an assassin who had a reputation of maximum efficiency and coldness, he turned out to be quite polite and convincing with his offer. A man worthy of her respect, and one she wouldn't like to cross.

"I'd rather seal the deal in person, if you don't mind," the hunter finally said.

"As you wish. Right now, I'm at outskirts north of the city. You'll find me easily if you know where to look. Until then."

And then he cut off communications. J's face once again became tense. It was weird to run into another professional of the underworld in the middle of a job, and even weirder to collaborate with him. While she had her reservations, the truth was that the Pride Sniper, for all his reputation as a cold and merciless professional hit man, was also known for greatly valuing trust and always staying true to his word. That was probably where the "Pride" in his name came from.

Tough choice. On the one hand, she would appreciate the help in getting one or two of those vigilantes off her back to get her job done. On the other hand, she would have to trust him, and she couldn't trust anybody who wasn't under her command. That meant being vulnerable to potential betrayals.

Weighing her options, she decided that the risk might be worth it, from a utilitarian viewpoint. All she had to do was to make sure not to give the Pride Sniper a reason to come after her. Rumors in the underworld said that things always went badly for everyone who double-crossed him, but as long as you kept your end of the deal, you were safe from his wrath.

"Start the engines. It's time to regroup and plan a new course of action."

The airship's engines roared to life, and it began flying towards the meeting point. She'd better make these negotiations to be worth it.

To be continued…

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