Meanwhile… far from Caspian, who was busy instructing his disciples, a showdown brewed in Q-City.
Walking one of the manifold sidewalks of the vast megalopolis was a man with dark, pinkish-red hair. He wore a tight, black long-sleeved shirt, loose white martial arts pants, a yellow sash at his waist, and tai chi slippers on his feet; though one would struggle to tell through the dirt, rips, and dried blood.
Garou hadn't intended to wear this outfit forever, but for reasons he couldn't explain, after surviving enough beatings, the clothes had become a genuine part of his body. It was unnatural. Inhuman. And he took great pleasure in that fact.
He believed this transformation solidified during the journey to Q-City. Arrival should've come sooner, but as departed from S-City, a hero squad ambushed him: Death Gatling, Stinger, Chain'n'Toad, Smile Man, Gun Gun, Shooter, Wild Horn, and Glasses. He actually owed them some thanks. Though they had left him injured and poisoned, they helped him adapt to several new combat styles he had never encountered before.
I'm getting closer.
Closer to his destination; where an S-Class hero lied in wait, unaware they would soon become his prey beneath the falling dusk.
¤ ¤ ¤
There was a third contender in the impending Q-City showdown.
From the narrow crack of a building, a pair of yellow eyes burned with hatred; fixated on Watchdog Plaza.
Nyan hadn't been in the city long, but it felt like destiny had brought him here. Right to the domain of his most hated hero. And oh, how he relished the thought of toying with Watchdog Man. The S-Class hero would stand no chance, especially wearing that detestable costume.
His patient surveillance had paid off. He'd watched Watchdog Man fend off wave after wave of invading monsters. Strangely, they all funneled straight into the Plaza. Whatever the reason, it worked to Nyan's advantage now, here at the literal end of the day.
As the last of the pedestrians cleared out, a bout of motion to the right snagged his attention; someone was approaching.
He didn't like what he saw.
The figure moved with quiet intent, but there was something primal beneath the surface. This human reminded him… of a canine!
Nyan's indignation boiled over. His course of action snapped into focus: he would slide beneath this human's attire and make them suffer.
He sprang from the crack in the wall and appeared at the human's side in an instant. There was no time to react. With supernatural dexterity and elasticity, he struck, aiming to slide between fabric and flesh.
Not possible!
He bounced off. No opening. No gap between skin and clothing. That couldn't be.
"What?!" the man shouted, leaping back and shifting into a martial artist's stance.
This wouldn't be a game after all. If he couldn't play with his prey, he'd kill them quickly.
"'Feline Retributi—'"
Nyan didn't get the chance to finish; white blurred in his peripheral vision, followed by a sudden, heavy force which sent him flying.
¤ ¤ ¤
Inside the Cafe & Restaurant Togus, the murmur of conversation and the clink of cutlery resonated. Caspian sat across from Fubuki at a corner booth. Between them lay a plate of half-eaten fries, still steaming; flanked by their drinks.
Fubuki leaned in, chin resting on her knuckles, elbow anchored to the table. Her eyes homed in on his with a piercing stillness as a sly curve played at the edge of her glossy light-pink lips.
I wonder what that smirk means… thought Caspian.
"If we succeed, reaching B-Class Rank 5 or higher wouldn't be a dream for you.
But for that cause, you'll need my support… You probably didn't even do your homework about how he looks, am I right?
Can't be helped then. I'll give you the information you need."
Fubuki's head tilted, followed by a smug smile. "Felt you like you were right in the show… are you listening?"
HSS
He replied by pushing the plate of fries closer to her.
"Hmm, there's surely no dine-and-dasher to save you today." She reached for a fry and consumed it in several small and cute bites.
A comfortable and unhurried silence ensued. Then—
"Moving on," Fubuki said as she brushed a finger along the rim of her glass, "I'm curious about your plans for the future… would you share them with me?"
Caspian sank back into the booth's cushion. "In terms of what I have planned, I do have an offer for you."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"I'm putting together an alliance of sorts. And I want your Blizzard Group at the forefront. More specifically, you. As the Overseer. There would be no restrictions, no changes other than the alliance's name behind yours. You would also have unlimited funding."
"Unlimited funding?" She echoed in a higher pitch before she reined it back in. "Are you by chance trying to buy my favor?"
"No. I admit the timing looks bad, but all affiliated individuals and groups will operate without a budget cap or restrictions."
"Without restrictions, won't this spiral out of hand? And how do you plan to fund this 'alliance'?"
"That's what makes it entertaining. As Overseer, preventing things from spiraling out of control falls under your duties — or not, if you'd rather let turmoil rule. Your choice. Concerning funding…" He scanned the cafe. "…I can explain, but that conversation's better saved for somewhere more private."
Did he care if others heard how he obtained his funding? Not at all. But a private discussion with her appealed to him far more.
She fell silent but broke the quiet after a gentle exhale. "What you're offering, if genuine, is too good to pass up. So obviously, I'll join the… wait, you still haven't told me the name."
"The Carbonated Alliance."
"…"
Fubuki kept her expression neutral as she slid out of the booth. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom."
Caspian, unfortunately, didn't use 'Sense' on her. Had he done so, he might have averted the impending crime about to engulf the establishment.