My World My Justice Ch.17

So there's a lot to talk about with Futaba, and I'm eager to finally have a long normal conversation with someone else.

This feeling only intensifies when I learn Futaba isn't even from Earth-Bet - she basically admitted she's a seized companion who was dropped here. More topics to explore, probably without limitations, and I have plenty of questions about this world and the company.

Except for one small detail.

One detail I should have seen coming.

"Ohmigosh, you totally missed the perfect opportunity!" Futaba leans forward in her chair, eyes sparkling behind her thick glasses. "All Might's iconic 'Fear not for I am here!' would've been perfect! I mean, 'Justice has arrived!' works too, but c'mon - it doesn't have nearly the same impact. Total nerf in the cool factor department."

Futaba Sakura is an otaku or weeaboo - or whatever term fits this kind of person. That drastically reduces what we can actually talk about because she was also a shut-in. So even with the vast access and reach of the Company, she remained in her room.

I merely roll my eyes in response.

Besides, I like my heroic entrance. It gives me a flair of originality.

Wait…

Since when do I like my crippling justice-themed speech?

Fuck.

"Hey, hey!" Futaba spins in her chair, fingers flying across her keyboard. "I did some digging - you're practically a ghost online! Like, zero social media presence... Well, except for all those clips and pics people keep posting, but that doesn't count. Even a basic PHO account would've been something, you know?"

I quickly write my answer on my phone and send it.

'Not really interested in becoming terminally online, and I'd probably waste my time shitposting.'

"Pfft, normie excuse." Futaba pouts, but then her eyes light up with that dangerous gleam I'm starting to recognize. "But! Since I'm a net veteran and multitasking is my specialty... What if I handled all that for you? Oh! Oh! Even better - I could be like your hero manager! Please say yes, this would be so epic!"

I stare at her slowly.

'Why would I want a hero manager?'

She adjusts her glasses with a knowing smirk, clearly about to explain why should I pick her. "So get this - you've got contracts with Apex Entertainment and Heritage Media, right? All supervised by Brandish - aka Carol Dallon, super-lawyer extraordinaire and cape celebrity."

I nod. It's still weird to think about it. They haven’t called me for a photo session yet. I wonder what those guys are doing…

"Okay, but here's the real tea," Futaba leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice despite us being alone. "Those companies? They're part of this new media conglomerate called 'Doña Word' - I know, I know, super subtle naming there. Founded by Contessa herself, with Rebecca Costa-Brown as the big boss. It was all over the news feeds. Why would they do this? No clue - Contessa's basically running on 20 steps ahead brain-kind logic that we can't comprehend."

Contessa?

What is she planning now?

Then it hits me as I remember past events from days ago and the mystery message.

'How did Contessa even get my number? It isn't public and only you have my number.'

Futaba freezes mid-keyboard tap, slowly sinking into her chair as she turns away. Her fingers start doing that nervous dance they do when she's caught. "Uhhhh... funny story about that..."

I give her a flat look. That reaction can only mean one thing - she had something to do with Contessa getting my private number without triggering any of my defenses.

The nerdy girl pouts but eventually sighs in defeat. "Okay, so you probably have information defense and trace defense, right? But don't freak out! She didn't hack you specifically. See, these defenses only activate when somebody tries to harm or attack you. If they're looking to help or benefit you, they won't trigger. Which means Contessa wasn't planning anything bad! And technically she got it from me without really knowing - I'm good, but not THAT good without my powers so... sorry?" She finishes with a sheepish smile.

I sigh and rub my temples. That's... a decent explanation.

At least I know Cauldron is technically on my side.

"Don't worry, I changed all my security passwords again and added another layer to my systems. So it shouldn't happen again..." Her eyes gleam mischievously. "Unless you find a way to capture me so I get all the company defenses again!" She sticks out her tongue.

Well, that's true, but I genuinely don't know how to get a stamp on her. I'm barred from conventional bindings, and the dragon bite has turned into another form of love confession, so that's out of the question.

What to do?

"I love you!"

I blink and slowly turn to look at Futaba again.

Rather than looking embarrassed by her outburst, she's examining her body and checking under her shirt until she clicks her tongue in annoyance. "Didn't trigger the false positive. Damn."

Yeah, a love confession is a little more complex than that, woman. Magical words alone aren't enough.

But I can appreciate the initiative.

Let's ignore that for now so I can think again.

Come to think of it, I'm quite disconnected from what's happening outside my vicinity. I don't even know what goes on in the city since I can't be everywhere at once. Oracle/Futaba is my only informant for city activities, along with the company's randomly generated missions.

Wait a minute…

'In all these years, have you identified other people that shouldn't be on Earth-Bet?'

She quickly reads the message and starts tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Oh! I made a list, but only of the ones I'm absolutely positive don't belong in this weird mix-mash world of ours."

Futaba spins back to her computer, her fingers dancing across multiple keyboards as windows of information pop up on her screens. "Check these out - my 'definitely not from around here' collection. Been building this database for months!"

I move beside her, recognizing several faces right away. There's Bane, looking the same as I saw him back in the Bank heist. The entire Commando team stands out - Captain Command with his distinctive armor, that mysterious ninja guy, the mummy, and Baby Head. Also, a lizard guy and other faces are vaguely familiar but cannot pinpoint their names. There is also the face of the girl with the big shield who is a member of the Wards.

"Oh, you noticed Commando's team!" Futaba perks up, her eyes lighting up behind her glasses. She types rapidly, bringing up more detailed profiles. "I couldn't dig up much concrete info. But I totally remember them from some retro games I used to play. The similarities are way too specific to be coincidence."

She leans back in her chair, getting more animated as she talks. "Having them on our side is huge - they're like, top-tier fighters. And with Baby Head's genius? The stuff they're developing is insane. Commando might become the next Hero." She pushes her glasses up, entering full analysis mode. "There's this theory going around that his laser sword could damage Leviathan and Behemoth. But here's the weird part - they're never able to test it because the Endbringers always show up super far from them. Like, by the time they reach the city, the Endbringer's already gone. Every. Single. Time."

I nod in agreement, that's too many coincidences to ignore.

My attention catches on to another photo - a ridiculous-looking cape in a toilet-themed costume. Futaba follows my gaze and snickers. "Oh yeah, the Toiletnator! A relatively new cape who showed up about a year ago. Total joke villain, which is pretty weird for Earth-Bet's usual doom and gloom. He expresses his ultra-evil ways by cleaning public bathrooms and taking away all paper rolls so he can replace them with ultra-soft four-ply ones." She shakes her head. "The PRT keeps him around as Ward training since he doesn’t hurt people, although lately, he has been winning against the ward."

She quickly changes tabs to show Vista and Gallant trapped in a toilet paper ball.

After returning to the original tab she scrolls down, revealing more photos. "See these guys? The Decency Patrol? They're like the Fashion Police's bizarre opposite. They go around forcing 'proper attire' on everyone with their tinkertech. They did their thing here a few days ago and now they are heading to New York."

Then she moves to what looks like a discount vampire in a dated costume. "And this guy - Count Spankulot. Supposedly a Case 53, but I have my doubts. His power is spanking anyone naughty. Like, what even? But, he does have all those unique vampire powers." She lets out an exasperated sigh. "The PRT had him captured and contained but the Undersiders let him loose either by accident or because they're idiots. Knowing them..." She rolls her eyes. "I'm betting on the latter."

Futaba clicks to another image showing an enormous elderly woman with a stern grandmotherly appearance. "And here we have Gramma Stuffum - technically a biotinker villain, or maybe rogue? Normally the PRT would be screaming bloody murder and demanding Birdcage time if not a kill order, but get this..." She leans forward, clearly enjoying the story. "The EU and like half the African nations basically told the PRT to shove it because she only makes super disgusting but ridiculously healthy and nutritious food. She's cranking out meals in such massive quantities every day that she's single-handedly keeping starvation at bay across Africa and that benefits the European Union a lot so they protect her like crazy."

She switches to another picture showing the grandmother in a flowery apron standing behind a massive public table loaded with gross-looking dishes, serving food to very eager crowds.

Liver, pig hooves, oysters. Mashed vegetables. Sausages.

Yeah, the presentation is horrible, but I've eaten some of those dishes before. They're pretty good, I would call it an acquired taste to some of them.

"It's wild how one person created this solid international alliance," Futaba continues, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Some African warlords were dumb enough to try kidnapping or killing her with villains' backup, and oh man - the response was brutal. Every EU and African hero group plus actual military forces mobilized to wipe them out. Like, total extermination." She adjusts her glasses with a smirk. "I'm pretty sure even the Slaughterhouse Nine wouldn't mess with Gramma. They might be sadistic monsters who love spreading misery and death, but they're not stupid enough to have the entire Eastern Hemisphere hunting them down."

It's good to hear that things are looking up in some places.

'Do you know where all these displaced capes are now?' I write.

"Nope!" Futaba replies, then suddenly her eyes widen and she slaps her forehead. "Oh crap, right! We need to prepare for them! After the Leviathan attack, they'll all converge on this city too. Lots of people are gonna die."

"My justice will protect this city!"

I blink in surprise at my own words. Damn it.

"Wow, you couldn't resist, could you?" Futaba snickers.

I huff and look away. It slipped out. I didn't mean to say that.

"Anyway, moving on to another group I'm pretty sure isn't original to Earth Bet - the Knights of the Round Table." Futaba pulls up a new window with a European flag emblem. "I only remember the Suits and the Meisters being the hero teams over there. And if the name didn't make it obvious, the Knights are essentially the EU's equivalent to the Protectorate. I only know one member because he's super public about it - Paladin from Spain. That's it."

She displays a photo of an enormous man, maybe even taller than me, clad in pristine white plate armor with intricate golden ornaments. He's carrying a lance and shield, flexing dramatically with a rose clenched between his teeth.

"No idea why the other members aren't public, but there's gotta be a good reason."

Then she scrolls to show a guy in what looks like a bargain-bin costume - a red onesie, yellow trousers, and puffy insect antennae on his head. I vaguely remember this character from some old comedy show.

Futaba stops and turns away from the screen to look at me, her expression suddenly serious. "Would you believe me if I told you he's a symbol of hope in this world? Well, at least for South and Central America."

I gesture for her to continue, genuinely curious. This sounds like it could be an interesting story.

"Every country is pretty much on its own here unless an Endbringer is involved, so don't be surprised if you've never heard about this." She pulls her knees up to her chest, getting comfortable. "Latin America was essentially dominated by cartels, villains, and various criminal organizations. They practically owned the governments after exterminating most of the hero population."

I don't miss her use of past tense.

"That was until 2002, when Behemoth attacked Bogotá, Colombia. That's when he suddenly appeared - El Chapulín. He helped drive off Behemoth. Not alone, mind you, but he was a major player in the victory." Her eyes shine with admiration. "Since then, no Endbringer has attacked South or Central America. Of course, the PRT and the Triumvirate tried to recruit him, but he rejected all offers, saying something like 'There are people that need help.' Then he went on to fight all the cartels and villains, giving the remaining heroes a real fighting chance and slowly recovering the continent. It's been almost a decade, but now all that remains of the cartels and villain scene are practically under Snowflame's banner."

That's impressive. He really deserves the title Futaba gave him.

"It's not a crime-free utopia with economic booms and all that," she continues, "but it's a much better place than it used to be. So kudos to that guy. I'm glad he's here."

Quite the story. Unexpected but welcome.

I feel a surge of optimism. Maybe the situation isn't as bleak for Earth-Bet as I originally imagined. This mix-mash of capes the company caused has actually produced many positive outcomes.

I can't help but smile a little at the thought.

It's still a fucked-up world, but there could be many potential allies to deal with the fucked-up things that are coming.

Some groundwork has already been laid.

Then Futaba suddenly snaps her fingers, eyes widening. "Oh! I totally forgot to show you this!" She frantically switches tabs, and the screens fill with a barrage of posts, messages, and social media content all from Empire 88 and various supremacist groups.

Where the hell did all this come from?

"Since you don't have any social presence on the internet, it makes total sense why you never saw all these posts." she explains, gesturing at the monitors. "This racist garbage was literally everywhere for a month. They were using your image without permission for their agenda."

Manipulated images of me to promote their rallies and ideology. There are screenshots from PHO threads, forum posts, and even printed flyers. The reach was concerning some even coming from Europe. They've been using me as some kind of poster boy for their cause.

But then I remembered something.

'But it all changed when I saved Uber and Leet,' I type out.

"Yep! Everything completely flipped when you helped those idiots and beat the living shit out of one of their famous capes," Futaba nods enthusiastically. "Then you went all public and loud about supporting all people without discrimination, like this."

She pulls up a photo that I immediately recognize. It's me surrounded by a diverse group of children, making ridiculous poses for the cameras and also playing with them. I'm lifting two kids, one on each arm while striking a dramatic stance. All the while other kids are all laughing and mimicking my poses.

"These kinds of photos went super viral," Futaba continues, scrolling through positive reactions. "Complete PR disaster for Empire 88. They tried to claim it was photoshopped, but then more pictures and videos came out. The Nazi forums had complete meltdowns! It was amazing to watch."

She turns in her chair, resting her chin on her hands as she gives me a teasing grin. "Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't snagged any woman by now. Strong, handsome, good with children? And I'm pretty sure you're wealthy too, right? Tell me about it - you're like the ultimate hubby catch!" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Besides, only one woman has shown very direct and obvious interest in me, and that whole situation was pure cringe.

Futaba notices my expression and laughs before she grabs an energy drink. "Oh man, that bad, huh? There's definitely a story there. You have to tell me about it sometime!" She spins back to her screens, mercifully changing the subject. "But seriously, beating up Nazis did wonders for your public image. You literally beat the allegations."

"Anyway, after all that, they quickly backpedaled and tried to erase these posts." Futaba continues, showing screenshots of deleted content and user accounts. "Look at this - they even tried to hack into servers to remove archived versions. Amateurs." She smirks, clearly taking professional offense at their attempts.

I fully understand why they'd go to such lengths. The massive blow to their reputation after being caught in such a lie would be devastating for a group that relies on projecting strength and racial superiority.

"And now with your recent victory over more than half their roster of capes - and not just a hard-earned victory but a complete one-sided massacre - they're pretty much fucked." She grins widely, spinning in her chair with glee. "Kaiser's probably having a meltdown right now trying to figure out how to spin this."

I can't help but like hearing that. The idea of those assholes in crisis brings a certain air of satisfaction.

"Since you now have a media conglomerate supporting you, news of your deeds has gone international and is all over the nation." She pulls up headlines from various news outlets, all featuring my latest fight. "So congrats! You single-handedly did what the PRT couldn't ever hope to achieve for decades - shake the foundations of the Empire 88 gang."

I look at her in confusion.

"Well, think about it," Futaba explains, gesturing at me with her energy drink. "You're basically the epitome of the Aryan ideal they worship. Tall, handsome, well-defined features, extremely strong, blonde and blue eyes? Every box is checked on their list. As they would put it, the 'Übermensch.'" She makes air quotes around the term.

"So what happens to everyone when their so-called Übermensch is doing the exact opposite of what they preach? When the perfect blonde, blue-eyed specimen is out there protecting minorities and beating up white supremacists?"

Shakes their belief. 

That notification when I completed the mission makes a lot more sense now.

"Mhm," she nods enthusiastically before she takes a sip of her drink. "And they can't exactly publicly denounce you or try anything because that would contradict themselves hard, and many would instantly notice. So their young, impressionable audience would start to see reason and stop altogether, or at least develop skepticism - which alone hurts the Empire and their base of support. They're caught in a PR nightmare of their own making."

She suddenly jumps in her seat, remembering something. "Oh! Speaking of Empire members," she says, quickly changing tabs again. "These two are not from here. Maybe three if we count the dumb kid."

The screen displays three capes: 'Earthshard, Magik, and Mustard.'

Two blondes which I already faced and the third a lanky teenager with a gas mask.

"Earthshard is Terra, and she's also a Case 53 captured by the Gesellschaft, along with Magik. They were trained and brainwashed by them, so if possible, try to help them even if it means beating them real good." Her voice grows softer, more serious. "They're genuinely good people and could do a lot of good. Especially Magik, she not only can fight an Endbringer but her portals would be invaluable to getting people into and out of the fight."

I nod, making a mental note. Then I point to the other teen on screen with the gas mask.

Futaba shrugs dismissively. "Just a small-time villain, barely worth mentioning. All I know is that he's a mini-Krieg in the making and his schtick is gassing if you catch my drift." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Toxic power for a toxic ideology. No redemption story there, I think."

She stretches her arms above her head and claps her hands together, yawning slightly. "Okay, that was a lot of exposition for now! My brain's getting fried from all this info-dumping."

Right. Exposition.

I was so caught up that I forgot her quirky attitude.

Futaba spins her chair to face me, pulling her knees up to her chest as her expression suddenly turns serious. "So what's your current plan anyway? I mean, besides beating up more bad guys, which is always a good life choice."

'Help Taylor,' I type simply.

"Oh right, that mission," she nods, taking a long sip from her energy drink. "Yeah, we can work out something, but for this to be ideal, you'll have to spend another week with Taylor training her and everything. So keep doing what you're doing, and I'll keep digging up more information!" She gives me a thumbs up. 

There's a moment of silence as we both consider the situation. Futaba fidgets with a strand of her hair, clearly thinking through something.

"Oh crap, I totally forgot to mention this." she continues, her eyes widening. "We should now focus on the ABB and the Merchants. The Empire will be too occupied with their collective mental breakdown to be a major threat for a while. They're like, running around like headless chickens right now."

'Wouldn't it be better to attack them at their worst?' 

I questioned her strategy. It seems like a basic tactic to finish an opponent when they're down.

Oracle rubs her chin thoughtfully but shakes her head, her expression becoming more analytical. "While that would be the soundest tactical decision on paper, it would be really bad in practice. The ABB would immediately take the chance to attack and seize control of Empire territory, or the Teeth or other gangs would swoop in to fill the power vacuum instead." She makes an exploding gesture with her hands. "City-wide gang war. And some of these groups could end up being worse than the Empire. So while they're slowly crumbling, we should extend that process and use the time to focus on shaking up the other gangs. So we would give the PRT time to swoop in and retake control of the city."

I hate these politics.

'I'm absolutely sure I can beat Lung.' 

"Mission too?" When I nod, she raises an eyebrow and adjusts her glasses.

'But I need to beat him alone and at his strongest form.'

"That might be problematic," she says, leaning back in her chair and spinning once. "Everyone would want to join in on a Lung fight, either for quick glory or hoping to end the conflict quickly and avoid casualties. It would be like announcing free pizza at a college dorm." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "But I think I could manage it, at least with the independents. Most of them pretty much trust my info - being right 99% of the time has its perks - so I can feed them wrong information while you kidnap Lung and beat him up."

I gesture questioningly about the PRT.

"They normally don't act proactively," she says with a dismissive wave and an eye roll. "Too busy with their red tape. But maybe if we somehow get the message to Director Costa Brown or, better yet, Contessa, they would help by having everyone stand down.”

That should work then.

'Can you do it then?' I write quickly.

"Yeah, I just said I can," she replies, pushing her glasses up with a smirk. "But I'll need a lot of preparation, especially for the contingency plan. Because as soon as you take out Lung, that gang will implode on itself - we're talking full nuclear meltdown. A massive all-out brawl will break out between their capes, all hoping to become the new big baddie. Oni Lee would be without a leash and he would turn everything into a bloodbath."

I nod, already imagining the chaos that would follow. Taking out Lung means dealing with the aftermath too - something the PRT often does way too much and decides to not act based on that. It's not just about removing the big dragon guy; it's about what happens in the power vacuum afterward.

Futaba starts typing rapidly, bringing up maps of ABB territory. "We'll need to plan this operation down to the minute. I'll start prepping fake intelligence drops for the independents and some careful misinformation for the PRT. Maybe even loop in New Wave on a completely different wild goose chase." Her fingers fly across the keyboard as she mutters to herself. "This is gonna be so epic... Operation Dragon Slayer is a go!"

However, she suddenly stops typing, spinning her chair slowly to face me. Her eyes grow comically large behind her glasses as she clasps her hands together in an exaggerated pleading gesture.

"Before we go full mission-mode... can you bring me some games and comics from your place? Pretty please?" She blinks rapidly, giving me an attempt at the puppy-dog eyes I've ever seen. "I've been stuck in here for soooo long, and a girl needs her entertainment! I promise I'll be extra productive if I can recharge my geek and gamer batteries!"

Well, at least I have a thinker on my side. Even if she comes with her own unique set of maintenance requirements.

I can't help but smile a little as I nod. Somehow, having this quirky nerdy girl as an ally makes the impossible task ahead much easier.

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Bonus Scene: The Shadows has a new master

-Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker-

It was great when she had the chance to get away from the PRT's watchful eye for a moment. Of course, she would use that short time to its fullest extent, and that meant cleaning the streets from junkies or skinheads. But there was one thing she had to take care of as soon as possible.

She had heard the rumors. That somebody was lurking at night, in HER territory. And most importantly, this person was stealing her prey. A vigilante of sorts, because whoever this person was, they were targeting criminals—unpowered and small-time weaklings that belonged to her.

‘Someone thinks they can just walk into my hunting grounds?’

She wouldn't let that slide. She could respect predators in this world because they were strong, but even then, there had to be an understanding between them, some respect. They couldn't just waltz into each other's territory and steal what was rightfully theirs for the taking.

"When I find this wannabe hero," she muttered through gritted teeth, "they'll learn what happens to prey that overreaches."

So, moving on rumors, she went to where the vigilante was last heard of, her crossbow loaded and ready. Whoever this person was, he or she would soon learn the difference between playing at being a predator and actually being one.

She reached an alley where some strange noises echoed between the brick walls. Sophia moved silently, transitioning to her shadow state just enough to dampen her footsteps as she approached. 

What she found made her freeze in disbelief.

A lanky guy dressed in what had to be the stupidest vampire costume she'd ever seen—complete with a ridiculous cape and prominent cowlick—was laughing maniacally while delivering an exaggerated, loud spanking to a struggling skinhead who was desperately trying to escape, but failing miserably as the "vampire" held him down with surprising strength.

Sophia stood there, momentarily stunned into silence. 

What the actual fuck am I looking at? 

This was the vigilante stealing her prey? This absolute joke of a human being?

Her shock quickly transformed into rage. This wasn't just someone encroaching on her territory—this was an insult. This clown was making a mockery of what it meant to be a predator, to deliver real justice.

The freak suddenly stopped and released the skinhead, who scrambled to his feet with surprising speed. The loser ran away sobbing, hands clutching his reddened ass, his tough-guy facade completely shattered.

"There, all paid off!" the vampire shouted after him, slowly rising to his full height. Then, without warning, he vanished in a dramatic puff of smoke.

"What the—" Sophia spun around, crossbow at the ready. Mover ability? Teleportation? Her instincts screamed danger, but a part of her was still struggling to take this ridiculous cape seriously.

Then she felt it—an unnatural cold creeping down her spine. She snapped her head back to find the vampire looming over her, impossibly tall, his fangs bared and arms extended like some B-movie monster.

"Those who steal the power of the darkness and combine it with naughty weapons! And hunt the weak for sport, bully the defenseless, and do not pay their library fines shall incur the stingy wrath of COUNT SPANKULOT!" Count Spankulot's voice boomed, echoing through the alley. 

Sophia immediately activated her power, intending to phase into her shadow state and slip away. 

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Instead of the familiar sensation, she felt resistance. The shadows around her seemed to thicken, wrapping around her limbs like restraints. She struggled, trying to push harder into her phase state, but it simply refused.

"What the fuck?" she snarled, genuine alarm rising in her voice as she fought against the unnatural hold. This wasn't possible. 

She looked up at Count Spankulot, who threw his head back in theatrical laughter, his cape billowing dramatically despite the absence of wind.

"HO HO HO HO! The shadows respond to the master of the night, not to naughty children who abuse their gifts!" Count Spankulot declared, wiggling his fingers as the shadows tightened around Sophia. "And now, vile scoundrel, your heinie belongs to me!"

“W-wait! Ouch! Stop it! Ow!

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AN: Sophia deserved a good spanking.