Frank and I spent hours walking across South Rain City, headed to the east side. I’d spent most of my life in Villain Territory, the forgotten part of the city, so I had no clue just how well maintained a city street could be until we reached Hero Territory.

  I always found it a bit funny that they called it Hero Territory, when what it really meant was that the rich people live there. Even the poor people of Hero Territory were better off than anyone living in Villain Territory.

  Before we headed out, Frank bought outfits for everyone while we prepared the rest of our plan. He was the only one who wasn’t in the Super Arena fight, so he was the least likely to be recognized while walking down the street.

  So, for the first time since I was a kid going to church, I was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. While Frank had gotten mostly casual outfits, he decided to buy us a pair of business casual clothes. Not a bad idea, though, since it would help us blend in with the normal people in Hero Territory.

  Our journey finally came to an end when the used car lot was finally in sight. Frank turned to me as he spotted it. “Are you sure this is going to work? What if they find it suspicious?”

  “They probably will, but that’s what money's for. Can’t waste time doubting someone when they’re paying in cash.”

  “What if they call the heroes on us?”

  That made me flinch. I was as comfortable as I could be with the idea of fighting fellow villains, but heroes were a different story. “They won’t. You just need to calm down and remember what you’re supposed to say.”

  When we reached the car lot, I looked through the pathetic selection while Frank nervously followed behind me. For a henchman, he was quick to lose his nerve. Probably the reason he was left to watch over someone without legs.

  Even for being in the good part of the city, this car lot still sucked. The cars were either too much or too shitty. I wasn’t one to be picky, I’d never even owned a car before, but there was no way I’d pay ten grand for a Honda Civic that was older than me.

  It wasn’t until we reached the end of the lot that I found a van that worked. It was within our budget, could hold all of us, and it looked like it could handle some abuse. If it wasn’t for the appearance, it would’ve been perfect.

  We walked into the small sales office, approaching the only salesman inside. He was more hair than man, the miniature fan at his desk desperately fighting to keep him cool. All three of us stared at each other until Frank remembered that he was supposed to be the one talking.

  “I’d like to buy the van,” Frank announced.

  The salesman responded, his voice heavy and gruff, “Which one?”

  “The ice cream truck,” he answered.

  The salesman let out a small grunt. “Are you looking to get into the business?”

  “Cut the crap, you gonna sell it to him or not?” I interrupted, already wanting to get through this.

  “Fine, it’s not my money. Sit down and we’ll get started on paperwork,” he started to open one of the drawers on his desk.

  “Actually, I’d like to pay in cash. I’m trying to get out of here as fast as possible,” said Frank.

  “Sticker price is six grand, before taxes and fees. And we will still need to work out your information.”

  “Nine grand,” I looked the salesman in the eyes, catching his confusion.

  “Are you trying to haggle upwards? That’s not how it works, buddy.”

  “No, I’m offering you nine grand to give us the keys and let us go without any hassle.” I opened the duffel bag and dumped the money onto his desk.

  The salesman looked around, making certain that there weren’t any other customers nearby. “My apologies, I hadn't realized you wanted the express package. I’ll go grab those keys for you.”

  He damn near skipped as he went to the back after grabbing the cash. Frank was visibly sweating, his shirt having become awfully damp in a matter of minutes. It hurt to spend most of our cash on one purchase, but if things went to plan, it would be worth it. I just hoped that Tóxica and Reload were doing their parts.

  After we got the keys, Frank and I headed back to our beautiful new ice cream truck. It was rusty, the stickers were sun bleached, and it looked like a pervert’s dream car. But it was exactly what we needed.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I brought Frank along for two reasons. If we couldn’t bribe our way through, I’d just have him buy the van legally. It would take a while, but he was the only option. My legal identity was a missing person, Reload had a dozen warrants out for gun trafficking, and Tóxica had nothing in terms of identity. Frank was the only one of us with a clean record.

  But the second reason was that none of us could drive except him. I wasn’t certain of everyone's reasons for being unable to drive, but Frank was the only one who had a license. Reload argued that he technically could drive, but that twitch in his eye as he said it made me hesitant to put him in the driver's seat of our only car.

  We made our way through the city streets, headed back towards the motel. The journey that had taken us hours before only took a few minutes in the truck. Frank had a death grip on the wheel, visibly nervous about his part in the plan.

  “You don’t need to be so stressed, Frank. If things go right, we’ll be out of there in a few minutes.”

  “But what if things go wrong?” he asked. “Or even worse, what about the innocent people we could hurt? You’re the boss, and I respect that, but it’s not easy to be relaxed about this.”

  “I get where you’re coming from, but now is not the time to be worried about morals. We’re villains, the scourge of society. Our team is capable, and we’ll get it done before anything goes wrong. And trust me, we won’t be killing anyone innocent.”

  We pulled into the motel parking lot, and we headed for the second floor. But as we walked up the stairs, I held a hand out so Frank would stop walking. I didn't notice him from the parking lot, but there was an asshole currently pounding on my door. An asshole who was wearing a yellow puffer jacket.

  The Surge Gang member knocked on my door with a heavy fist, his other hand gripping the gun on his waist. I doubted he was here for a peaceful confrontation. If he was knocking on room seven, then that meant the front desk employee told him where to find me.

  “Stay here,” I whispered to Frank.

  I stalked up the stairs, until the creaking drew the attention of the Surge Gang henchman. He had flowing locks of black hair, with a wispy mustache framing his lips. There was a tattoo on his forehead, two lightning bolts that formed a V.

  I extended my hand out. “Hey man, what can I do for you?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m the owner of this motel. How come you’re banging on that door? If you’re looking for your mom, pretty sure that guy still has her for the next hour.”

  “The fuck did you just say to me?” He pulled the gun out of his waistband, finger on the trigger.

  I used [Take], sending the gun flying out of his hand. “I said, are you looking for your mom? Because that’s the only explanation you can give that lets you walk out of here.”

  He seemed confused, and very pissed off. “I don’t know what’s happening, but yo-”

  “Wrong answer.” I grabbed the barrel of the gun, and I smashed the handle against his jaw.

  The henchman fell to the ground, blood and teeth flying out of his mouth. He put a hand to his cheek as he spit blood onto himself. Before he could recover, I lifted him by the collar of his stupid puffer jacket.

  I pulled him so our faces were mere inches apart. “Vance, right? This is my motel. If I see you or any other Surge shitheads crawling around here, I’ll put you in the fucking ground. Do you understand me?”

  He didn’t respond fast enough, so I pistol whipped him again. I heard the violent crack of bone with that hit. He coughed up another spurt of blood. “I-I understand.”

  “Good, now get the hell out of here.”

  I dragged him to the stairs, where Frank was anxiously watching from. I shot Frank a look, and he moved out of the way. With the path clear, I threw Vance down the stairs. He violently tumbled against the metal steps until he landed on the bottom with a sickening crunch. It wasn’t long after that he began to crawl, until he managed to stand up and hobble away.

  “Fucking Jehovah’s witnesses,” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood as Frank walked up.

  “They’re really dedicated in this part of the country,” Frank forced a small chuckle.

  “Go to the meeting room, there should be some guns lying around for us. Pack them into one of the bags and bring them down to the van. Don’t forget the empty bags too, we’re gonna need them.” I walked past him and headed down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to check in on the front desk, let them know that things are handled and we won’t be going anywhere.”

  I noticed a small pool of blood near the bottom of the staircase, left behind after Vance’s unfortunate slip. I put his gun into my waistband, happy to have a memento. Having an endless supply of weapons made it less special, but it was nice to have a trophy.

  When I threw open the door to the office, the clerk nearly jumped out of her skin. It was the same girl from yesterday. She had a black eye that was quickly going down, a recent injury considering how fast Throm worked on ordinaries.

  “So, did you send him to try and kill me?” I asked.

  She looked terrified. “No, I swear I didn’t mean to! I tried calling you, but he saw what I was doing. He thought I was calling the cops, and he beat me until I admitted what I was doing. That’s when he went to your room.”

  Knowing she was beaten up over me made me feel a bit bad. “Alright, I’ll let it slide this time. And don’t worry about him anymore, I made sure he won’t try something like that again.” I took out my phone, handing it to the clerk. “If he does come back though, and no one on the second floor is here, just text me that there’s trouble. I won’t let him get away with harassing this place a second time.”

  She wrote down my number. “Okay. My dad knows about you, by the way... He wasn’t happy, but if you scared away Vance, then he should be okay with the deal.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t give a shit about what he’s okay with.” I snatched my phone back, walking out of the building. In the parking lot I saw Frank, waiting by our ice cream truck.