Silhouette

James had a lot of things to think about on the way home. He didn't bother changing back into a more appropriate or effective form for transport, sticking to having a humanoid silhouette with a couple of tentacles to drag the bodies of his latest kills behind him. He knew there was no denying he was no longer human, especially after his fight with the two monsters that would have easily crushed him had he met either one of them before... This.

But knowing he wasn't human anymore and accepting to live with it was not the same as embracing it. He still had attachments to his old body, a perfectly reasonable and understandable behavior considering the fact he had still been human a few... Days? Weeks? He wasn't sure, staying underground for so long had completely ruined his perception of time, but he could tell the change was still recent. He hoped.

So far he had always been keeping himself busy one way or another, trying to figure out how everything worked, exploring the tunnels, taking care of a small litter of rats, chatting online with strangers, training for combat despite never doing anything like that in his life, stealing from gangs... A big part of it had been legitimately necessary, even vital at some points, but at the same time, he couldn't deny it had helped set back the inevitable moment he would need to ponder about a few less... Pleasant thoughts.

He remembered dying, so he had probably been reincarnated, but how? And why? Was it some cosmic fluke? Had some force decided he would be a good fit for some kind of plan? Was he a dark lord's scheme to create a diversion and enable them to fulfill their evil scheme? In fact, was he sure those memories of his death were real and not implanted there to convince him going back to his world was impossible? Was going back to his world impossible? Was it truly his world? What if he was just an artificial shell that had been gifted the memories of a dead man to speed up its education? What was this body he now inhabited, where had it come from? Did anything matter?

Hey, meeting people! That was nice. No existential dread in that line of thought.

Encountering actual human beings this early on had been unexpected and considering James hadn't had the time to properly plan out what to say and do it had gone surprisingly well. Larry and Barry had been friendly enough when they weren't terrorized by James' acting, wording, or their own past traumas. Their little deal benefited everyone, they got money to clean off their debts and have fun while he got a couple of agents on the surface, people who would buy things he needed and give him the latest info only available in the streets. All in all, it had been a pretty good thing.

But I'm seriously worried about this world's average IQ. Is it lower overall, is the average guy dumber to compensate for every mad genius out there, or am I just unlucky and ended up reincarnating in one of the worst parts of the world? Judging by the whole slums thing and the disturbingly high number of apex predators in sewers still being actively used, it's got to be the last one. At least I hope so, for this world's inhabitants' safety.

James shuddered at the thought, if a city with monsters in its sewers and slums was the average - or worse, the upper-end of things - then this world might very well be doomed.

This would fit in with the whole Heroes and Villains theme, the world would constantly be on the verge of destruction and would only still be holding together thanks to a little group of determined, hard-working, and stupidly lucky people. Balance would still exist but instead of a majority of neutrality with some good and bad here and there, it would be extremely good against overall bad. It works, but at what cost?

James stopped advancing and took the time to take in a deep breath before slapping himself with a tentacle.

No. Bad James. You're being pessimistic again. I'm probably in a bad area or a bad era. Maybe the average person is stronger to compensate and these monsters were just stronger than normal. Yeah, that's probably it. Everything is stronger overall and those were just really bad pests. Yes, it must be that.

Having finished easing his concerns, James resumed his walk home. Ignoring all of the implications and existential dread linked to this ordeal, his two new employees offered a brand new world of possibilities. He would be able to buy actual furniture, including stuff for the ratlings, get a TV to catch the news - and maybe watch the local entertainment, for research purposes of course - and even... Even...

When he thought about it, luxuries were really the only thing he needed. He didn't pay taxes, didn't need to eat or drink and the ratlings could handle their alimentation on their own. The lack of light didn't bother any of them and installing plumbing was ironically impossible to do down in the sewers, at least not without a professional's help - and the chances of a plumber being willing to install an illegal system in the sewers just because a shadow man paid him seemed low.

No, surely he'd find a way to use his money and have a list of things to buy. Living with the bare minimum may have impacted what he considered truly useful but the little things were still there. Plus, if there's one thing he knew about money, it was that as soon as you had it there suddenly were a lot of things to spend it on, whether you wanted to or not.

But, as invested in his stray thoughts as he was, James still took care to pay attention to his surroundings - which is why he sensed something was wrong. Following the Titaroach and the Matoador's deaths silence had spread, their respective minions scattering and fleeing for their lives, no longer emboldened by their rulers. James was sure this silence would have lasted a while and ended with the feasting of scavengers.

And yet, it wasn't them who were the first to act.

The pitty-patter of dozens of little feet echoed in the tunnels, sounds that may have gone unnoticed had they not been this numerous, always moving to stay hidden while sticking to him. He had yet to see his little stalkers but he had spent enough time in this world to recognize to which animal these stealthy steps belonged.

Hence, it was with no surprise that James took in the sight of dozens of rats standing in his ways.

Why did I think killing two apex predators would resolve all of my problems? Of course, something else would be up immediately after. Of. Course.

Larry and Barry looked around as they climbed back up from an abandoned manhole in an old and dark one-way alley, the difference between the two's heights large enough for the both of them to stick their heads out at the same time despite there only being one ladder.

They scrutinized each and every point of the alley, paying close attention to any minuscule detail that might have changed since they went down. Every crack in the grey pavement - actually more cracks and holes leading to black stone than actual pavement at this point - was at the same place, the piles of useless junks and rotting trash laying against the wall opposite from the alley's entrance, leading directly to another dark alley. The entrance hadn't changed as well, still small and too tight for a person to walk through from the front, and only a small trickle of light made its way in between the impromptu platforms that had been built out of wood, metal scraps, and cloth between all of the surrounding buildings.

The small puddle of greenish water or whatever chemical someone had spilled was still there, the various spider webs they had broken when coming in were already getting fixed, the small arachnids not even pausing in their work from the noise Larry and Barry had made when coming up, the only thing slowing their craftsmanship being the occasional intimidation fight when two spiders got too close to one another.

This was good news. It meant nothing had scared them away while they were gone.

"All clear?"

"All clear."

James might have been surprised at how professional the two ruffians he had taken for bumbling idiots were as they finally left the sewers and closed the manhole behind them, but ultimately this behavior had a simple explanation: life in the slums was hard. At least, when you weren't in one of the main hubs.

"Any funny smell?"

"Uhm, only vanilla and strawberry. Definitely Sweet Pete."

Barry nodded. The baker-turned-Vigilante liked to patrol in this area of the slums, walking along on the platforms between the rooftops, as useless as he was. The man wasn't weak by any means but his sugary powers were pretty useless compared to the kind of things that the real Villains and their goons could do. A guy wearing a red jacket and beating people up with a crowbar was one thing, a Draskian cyborg able to melt down Mecha Man's creations was another.

"Good. No chocolate?"

"None."

Sweet Pete might have been a Vigilante but he wasn't the only sugar or pastry-based Super around. Napolitan Bonappétit may sound like a silly Villain - and honestly, he was - but it wasn't as funny when you were suddenly being gunned down by an army of ice cream soldiers, and even though their bullets were only chocolate chips they were just as effective as real ones, maybe even more so.

"Oh, could we go visit him? He's always so nice, we could finally buy one of his treats for real!"

"First we'll go to the bank and clean our debts. Then we buy essential stuff. If there's enough left to live for a week or two, then we can consider treats."

"Oooh, shoot!"

Barry rolled his eyes. Five hundred Xerins was a lot of money. As in, enough to clear off most of their debts, or at least all of the really important ones. They'd finally be able to buy stuff from old Kurg's place again, to travel along the Angels' paths and get proper gadgets from Meinkreft. Oh, how many nights had he dreamt of that sweet, sweet metal detector? They'd also be able to finally fix their place. Invest in some actual locks, get some gas and electricity in...

"By the Nine, that thing is a godsend."

"He really was nice, wasn't he? What do you think he'll ask us to buy?"

Larry's remark pulled Barry out of his reverie. The money they had gotten today hadn't just popped up in his hands, after all, someone had given it to him. Something that almost killed them. Something that he had promised to work for.

"It... was really something else. I don't think I've seen something like that before."

"Me neither. He didn't even have a smell."

"Wait, he didn't? How could you tell? I thought the water down there blocked you?"

Well, to be more accurate, Larry had subconsciously shut off his sense of smell to avoid being overloaded by the smells down in the sewers, his feeble mind being too weak to handle most of the stuff down there.

"On the way out. When we were in the disaffected parts."

Places were the sewers had stopped running, even in the slums. Places that weren't infested with creepy crawlies or contaminated by a constant flow of sewage.

"No smell? That's a first."

And it terrorized Barry. Even that one time they had been stalked by a vampiric fly there had been a scent, something that allowed Larry to notice the danger and give the two enough of a warning to run away.

Yes, there were more and more reasons for them to never return and break off their promise to the weird thing they had encountered. And yet...

"Guess we'll see what it wants next time we come."

The thing was offering them way too much money to just shrug it off. As much as he disliked it Barry knew obeying that weird monster's orders was the best course of action to follow.

At least they'd be getting money out of the situation. He really hoped they hadn't terminated their bank account, even if it wasn't in the Black Bank's usual practices to do so. Hell, there were rumors they still kept the vaults of some of the original clients of the place, most of them having died at least a couple centuries ago. Finally having money to put in it just slightly stressed him. At least it'd be safe there, no one was stupid enough to attack the Black Bank. Even the big Three and the Angels respected the place's neutrality policy, and no one had tried to steal from it in ages - there always were a couple of guys desperate enough to try, but the last real attempt had taken place when he was still a kid.

"By the way, do you think it's him?"

Barry had to make a double-take, that question appearing out of nowhere. At least he was somewhat used to this kind of thing after living with Larry for so long.

"Who?"

"You know, Nat-"

In a blink of an eye Barry had put his hand over Larry's mouth.

"Are you mad?! Don't. Say. His. Name."

Larry quickly nodded, at least as well as he could with a hand gripped tight over his mouth. Seeing that Larry understood his message Barry released him.

"Why do you even think it's him? It doesn't make any sense"

"Well, he wants to stay secret, he doesn't know much about what's around here and he had money."

"Larry, any Villain or Vigilante worth their salt wants to stay hidden at first, the guy you're thinking about was strong enough not to care about stealth at all, he knew more about this city than everyone else put together and money doesn't mean anything! For all we know he could just have stolen it!"

"Things change in thirty years. He probably had tons of caches. And maybe he's weak now, after coming back from where he was trapped?"

"It's a load of ballooney. The guy's dead and that's it, end of the story. Our new boss is a completely different guy."

"Uhm... If you say so..."

Barry released a sigh, as much as he loved his brother there were times where he was just too much, even without his own anger issues. Like that stupid theory. How could that thing in the sewers be the same as Zalcien's most powerful Super? Plus, how and why would he even come back after thirty years of nothing?

No, Natrashka was dead and that was it.