Yokohama was a shitshow of a city to live in.
Sutoraika knew it. His mom knew it. Hell, even his dumbass cousin knew it, and that dumb son of a bitch barely knew how to dress himself properly. Anyone and anything with a brain knew that orange plaid was not something that normal people wore, and more to the point, anyone and anything with a brain had left Yokohama when All Might had died, the Symbol of Peace helping to level a few city of their blocks on his way out.
Or at least, that's what they wanted you to think.
See, where others see ruin and destitution, Sutoraika saw it for the opportunity it was.
He'd grown up in Yokohama. By now, he knew every shortcut, every back alleyway, every secret nook and hidden hideaway. He knew the best ways to get across town without being spotted by the cops, or anyone else who happened to be out to get him, and he'd spent his life putting those skills to good use.
Then the day came when the Chemical King came calling.
With his mysterious Quirk that had supposedly helped him take control of the docklands, and with them, the city's entire drug trade, the Chemical King was now the closest thing Yokohama had to a true ruler, hidden in the shadows, basically being able to print off as much money as he desired, whenever he desired it.
And when he came calling, Sutoraika decided that he wanted that sense of job satisfaction.
The Chemical Crew had come to him, offering him solid work to move their packages between suppliers, dropping off their product and collecting the cash, bringing it back to them. He was paid a tidy sum for keeping his mouth shut, and the Knights of the Chemical Crew kept him in constant work.
He delivered product, handed off cash and on occasion, took a few extra-curricular detours for whoever was offering him enough money to make it worth his while.
Like tonight.
The Chemical King had wanted him to work the night, and so, he'd sent his right hand - the Black Knight – to ask for his help, personally.
He'd grinned from ear-to-ear when he'd found out that little nugget of information. Finally, after almost four years of service, his loyalty was being paid off and he knew that this was it. This was going to be the job that would allow him to move up into the inner circle and become one of the Chemical Knights himself. He knew that he had the right mindset for his line of work, he hadn't just stumbled into it by accident, his Quirk was well-suited for the work that he did, and most of all, he was ready for more.
He wanted in.
Tonight, there was a shipment coming in. He didn't know what it was, and honestly, as long as he was being paid, he didn't care. What he did care about, was that the King had been warned.
The vigilante had been sniffing about.
There were a handful of names floating about the darker side of the city's underworld, but everyone knew that it was all about the same person.
The Bat.
Or whatever else they were calling it.
There were a couple of other names floating about: the Ghost, the Wraith, the Phantom. As far as he was concerned, they all meant the same thing, and each one sounded even dumber than the one before it.
Apparently, some freak had decided that 'enough was enough', and now they were taking a stand against what they considered to be the makings of crime and corruption. A few nights ago, one of the Knights had seen the freak sniffing about one of the King's warehouses. It had ran away once they'd caught him, tail tucked firmly between its legs, but not only was it one of the King's favourite warehouses for long term storage of his product, it also just so happened to be a warehouse that some idiot had tacked up the schedule on the wall.
Now, normally the Knights would just cut and run, and not worry overmuch about their losses. Losing product wasn't usually worth tangling with the cops, (unless they were already bought and paid for), but on this occasion, it wasn't the police that were the issue.
It was this freak.
An unlike the police force, they were alone.
And one freak could, (and would), get their face smashed in when they came up against him and his boys.
So, sensing the opportunity that he was being provided, the King had given him a call.
Sutoraika had reached out to some of his boys that he knew who could use the cash for a decent night's work, and they'd all responded. He'd slapped his favourite sweatband around his (naturally) hairless scalp, and it was with chains, bats (the swinging kind), knives and even a couple of guns, that him and over a dozen of his best guys had piled into the docks, and from there, they waited.
The moment that the Bat showed up and tried to put a stop to them, they'd put a stop to the Bat.
Permanently.
=== === === === ===
'Initializing quantum-encryption sequence… cryptographic layers aligned… data packets encapsulated… monitoring zero-point fluctuations for anomalies… external decryption attempts detected: zero. Integrity of communications at one hundred percent… secure channel established'.
She smiled to herself as the text flowed across the screen, her very own computer baby coming to life before her very eyes, "Computer", she said as the secure channel was established, pushing a button for voice control, "access the Operational Meta-Ability Communications System. Username: Oracle".
"Connection established. Passcode required".
"Mara".
"Passcode accepted. Voice print recognised. Welcome back, Oracle. You have a new personal message".
She blinked, "Ah, please repeat?"
"Passcode accepted. Voice print recognised. Welcome back, Oracle. You have a new personal message".
"Yeah… that's what I thought you said", she pushed her glasses up her nose using the middle finger of her right hand, "alright then", her hands reached out for her computer's built-in keyboard and motion controls, her curiosity piquing, "let's see what you've got for me".
It wasn't that Oracle never received any messages - she did - after all, she'd designed OMAC to serve as a messaging service, but ever since she'd gone from handling simple requests to working as a full-fledged information broker for the underground, she'd set herself up with a requests system so that people could send her their locations and whatever other information or assistance they were after, and she'd do everything she could to help co-ordinate resources to get everyone what they needed.
After that, the number of personal messages had slowly trickled down in number, until she was only receiving a scant handful of them per year, and over the last year, ever since she'd began moving her base of operations to Japan, she'd noticed that that number had dwindled to all-but zero.
With two more taps and a swipe of her hand, she brought up the message that had been sent to her. She read through the words, and then did it a second time, just to make sure that she understood the information it contained.
With another few clicks, she brought up the video feed being sent from Izuku's cowl and seeing that he didn't seem to be in the middle of anything that was demanding much of his attention, seemingly just driving around on one of his routine patrols, she switched on their communications system.
"Hey… I've just received some new intel for you".
"Go ahead".
"There's a new user on the OMAC System. Normally, that's nothing special, but they've sent me a personal message. It was an intel drop, and they've asked me to find a way to get it to 'that new Japanese vigilante in Yokohama'. They're claiming that there's going to be a new shipment coming into our docks tonight; it's meant to be enough chemicals to make so much Trigger that it could start a national pandemic".
"Is the threat credible?"
"There is a new shipment coming in", she confirmed, "and it is marked down as containing various chemicals needed for research and teaching purposes, and not only does that include all of those chemicals needed to make a stable base for normal Trigger, but the right chemicals to make it for Ideo-Trigger too".
"Not inherently dangerous by itself, but…"
"But if I wanted to hide my new ability to make all the Trigger I'd ever want, sending it into Japan as part of a research shipment would be a good way make sure it gets past customs. We should start trying to keep track of stuff like that".
"I'll check it out".
Her hands flew back to her keyboard, "Copy that. Sending you what I have on the docks… now".
"Received", she watched through his lenses, as he glanced over the remote computer monitor built into his dashboard, before he span Heracles around, immediately changing the direction he was heading in, "what do we know whoever the intel came from?"
"Not much, well, not yet at least. I'm looking into them, but so far, I've got nothing to give you. They were given access on the back of another vigilante, one we don't use much, and this was their first action. Looks like they set it up on a burner phone and then tossed it. No way to trace it".
"We've said that it could be useful to build up our own network of informants, now that we're permanently here. This person could be a good first link in that chain. If they pop up again, reach out to them. See if they're interested".
"I was thinking the same", she agreed, "but for now, all we've got to go on is their username and a single message".
"And by what handle is our new mysterious benefactor calling themselves?"
"According to their database entry, they're calling themselves… Stendhal".
=== === === === ===
As the few remaining dregs of daylight gave way to the darkness of the night sky, the Yokohama Vigilante found himself perched atop a loading crane, as he silently observed the docklands spread out before him.
His eyes, trained to take in the information of his surroundings at all times, picked out the many different routes that could be taken between the maze that was the piles of metal containers, including where the routes intercepted each other; where they linked up towards the small group of office buildings; and also form where they could reach the adjacent roads, which would allow them to start sending their poison out to anywhere in Japan that they so desired.
That shouldn't have been possible, of course. The docks should have been guarded by the port authorities, as well as any private security that the involved companies would have hired to protect their shipments. The dock itself, as well as the outside area and the surrounding roads should have had a police presence, all of whom should have been ready to make sure that nothing went wrong.
Instead, what was happening, was enough to make him feel the blood boiling within his very veins.
A full half hour before the ship was scheduled to arrive and be unloaded, a small fleet of unmarked white vans pulled up to the main entrance. Using the visor of his cowl, his focused on the main entrance, zooming and enhancing the images in front of him, until he could make out the licence plates on the vans, and count the men inside.
Tapping the side of his cowl, at his left temple, he took a few still photographs of the plates and made a note to follow up on them later.
Each van was a transit-style van, with a driver and guard. There were seven of them arriving, for a total of fourteen men with them. More could have been piled into the backs, but given that they were here for transporting goods, he doubted it, and based on the way they moved, he didn't think any of them seemed to be weighted at the back.
Still, Izuku wasn't going to take that as a guarantee. They could be leaving men behind to help clean up when their business was concluded.
But what truly angered and enraged him, was the sight of the port authority officials welcoming them into the docks, with a series of smiles. These men were tasked with the protection of the city; to keep them safe from those who would import that which would do the city harm, yet they waved the men through, not even bothering with the pretence of asking for their identification, or any type of paperwork, and even if that hadn't been enough to raise his suspicions, the sight of their poorly concealed weapons tucked into their trousers would have been.
These men were criminals.
Every single one of them.
Gritting his teeth in anger, he swung his vision around to look out at the roads, where another car was driving up. This time, it was a plain grey sedan, instead of a van, but it was obviously expected, given how it casually drove through the entrance, not bothering to stop, until it reached the staging area alongside everyone else. A man stepped out, dressed in a cheap suit, hat and coat, with a handgun holstered at his shoulder.
Reaching up, he took a few more photographs, this time of the newcomer's face and car.
If he wasn't a cop of some sort, Izuku would swallow that damn hat whole.
The passenger of the first van meandered over, shaking his hand, before handing him a brown paper bag, and Izuku didn't need to be a genius to know that it was filled with cash.
He took another photograph.
When this was all over, he was going to make sure that the cop and port officials saw justice was well, but for the moment, the shipment was the priority and Izuku still had some time yet before the ship would be ready, and he was determined to be patient. He wouldn't make his move, until he had laid sight on the chemicals with his own eyes.
For now, the Yokohama Vigilante waited.
=== === === === ===
The ship was called the 'STELLAR ENVOY', which was emblazoned alongside the ship's bow in tall black, block lettering, which he felt was a misnomer given that, as far as he knew, at least, it couldn't fly.
Izuku wouldn't have been able to tell it apart from any other ship in the port, had he not been waiting at the exact dock for it to come in. He couldn't make out the exact colours in the dark, but it wasn't hard to imagine the shades of grey that it was most likely comprised of.
He took more images as it docked, making sure to get the name of the ship and its dock number, as connections were made, and as he watched, they began off-loading the containers.
One-by-one, they rolled a series of barrels down the ship's gangplank, until there was enough to fill each of the seven vans that had arrived.
He took a few more photographs and waited for them to stop before focusing on the barrels themselves. Slowly, he focused on the chemical labels along their sides, slowly zooming his vision in and taking careful note of what exactly was being delivered.
He reached up, tapping the side of his cowl.
"Are you seeing this?"
"Epinephrine, modafinil, piracetam, corticosteroids and anabolic steroids", he could practically hear the gears in her head turning, her brilliant mind already working at a speed of one hundred miles a minute, "each one a requirement to make Trigger".
"That's not all", he murmured, as he focused on the final set of chemicals being deposited.
"Is that-"
"Psilocybin", he confirmed, "the final chemical added when your goal is turning Trigger into Ideo-Trigger".
"You need to shut this down", she told him, "if this amount of Trigger makes it onto the streets-"
"Negative, we-"
"You can't seriously be letting this stuff go!"
"If we take it out here, they'll just move the drop point for next time. No, we tag and tail the vans and pick everything up from there".
"And how do we pick it up?"
"We just need to stop them. KPPD will do the rest for us".
"You do realise that there was literally a cop meeting them before the offload began, don't you?"
"Send an anonymous message to the Inspector General's Office with the photographs I took earlier and post a copy online. Tag the KPPD in it. Let's make sure that they get seen".
"Understood, I can also-"
"How disappointing".
On instinct, he moved forward, rolling off of his perch atop the crane, grabbing it with one hand, hanging for a brief moment, before he pulled himself back up, returning to his perch, as behind him, off in the growing distance, the knife that had been aimed at his head fell to the floor.
Looking completely at ease on the arm of the crane behind him, Izuku easily recognised the man from his careful study of Japan's most dangerous criminals.
He wore metal boots, gloves, kneepads and even a headband, each of which was covered in short metal spikes, under which he could make out solid black bodysuit and a mas of bandages that covered his arms and torso, including the visible part of his neck. He didn't need to see the blood red ragged scarf and small armoury of blades that were the serial killer's signature.
"Who is that?!"
"Stain".
The man grinned, unaffected by the growl that had spat out his voice, "The Vigilante of Yokohama", his abnormally long tongue flicked out, dampening what remained of his lips, "the man with the Bat Quirk. I've heard about you… your weakness… your inability to do that which is necessary", he made a 'tutting' noise with his mouth, "so much promise, so much disappointment".
"The Hero Killer: Stain. Real name: Unknown. Quirk: Unknown", he rattled off the facts as he knew them, and he could hear Oracle's fingers flying over her keyboard as she brought up all of the information she could find, adding the information he was giving her to her stockpile, "but based on the number of knives recovered from your crime scenes, and the Quirk of your protégé, presumably something based around your victim's blood. Where's the Bloodletter? Where's Carmine?"
"This night is mine. My night to see you. To judge your worth. Toga must wait her turn".
"Accessing local security cameras. If she's in front of one, I'll find her".
"One hundred and ninety-seven Pro Heroes confirmed as kills. Over another forty kills for criminals and cops attributed to you. A further two hundred and thirty-nine confirmed cases of serious injuries to other criminals, cops and sidekicks. Given an S-Ranking by the HPSC, not because of your ability to become an international threat, but because of the sheer size of your body count. You're the most prolific serial killer in history".
"Bah", he spat off the side, "words by corrupt officials and false heroes. I do the work of the true. I purge the fake heroes from society. I remove all those who place self-interest in front of their calling as heroes. You should be thanking me, working with me. We're the same, you and I, determined to see this country flourish".
"We're not the same", he spat, "you're scum who kills for fun. Don't try and dress it up as something noble".
"No, no, no, NO", he shook his head, flinging it from side-to-side, "I thought you were like me. I thought you could be made to see, but no… I along carry out the legacy of the one true hero, of All Might-"
"All Might was a true hero", he agreed, stopping himself from nodding along in agreement, "but you're not-"
"BAH", Stain spat off to the side, "none of my victims have been worthy of being spoken of in the same breath".
"That's not for you to decide", his hands formed into fists, preparing himself for what was coming, "but I know that All Might would be ashamed to see this done in his name".
Stain shook his head again, short shakes, as if psyching himself up for what was about to occur, "I can see it now", he told him, reaching up, behind the back of his head, he pulled his mask of bandages over his face, "I had hoped that what I saw at the jewellers was a singular instance-"
"Jewellers? The break-in a few nights ago?"
"-but is obvious, even now, that you are not prepared to do what is necessary".
"Murder is NEVER necessary".
"Disappointing", Stain murmured to himself, shaking his head, as he reached up once again, and drew one of his swords, "disappointing… a waste of potential".
"Leave", he warned, "or I'll make you my problem to deal with".
"So be it", Stain snarled, as he launched himself forwards.
"Hruh", he blocked the sword on his forearm, the blade sharp enough to cut into his armour, but not beyond it, but in their precarious position, Izuku realised that he had left himself vulnerable to an attack, and Stain tackled him straight off the crane.
Together, they fell into the night.
=== === === === ===
Author's Notes:
Sutoraika (ストライカー) is named after Alfred Stryker. Who was he? The very first villain that the Bat-Man, (and yes, originally, his named was hyphenated, much like the later Spider-Man), defeated in his very first appearance, way back in Detective Comics issue #27, which was released in May 1939.
Alfred Pennyworth didn't exist yet either, and I've always found the use of the name here to be amusing.
The Chemical King, mentioned near the beginning, but not physically appearing, was also in that very same issue, (though he was mentioned by name only), with a police officer rushing into Commissioner Gordon's meeting with Bruce Wayne, to report his death. When I read that name, I thought that would make a great name for a villain, so maybe we'll see him, his Knights and his Chemical Crew pop up again, somewhere down the line.
It felt fitting to find a way to use the names, as our Batman takes on his first real villain.
The ship that appears is named the Stellar Envoy, and I'm sure that the Star Wars aficionados will already be aware that this was the original registered name of the Corellian light freighter that Lando Calrissian would one day rename as the Millenium Falcon.
For those unaware, the Inspector General's Office in Japan holds the same purpose for policing that Internal Affairs does in western media.
Some of eagle-eyed among you may have noticed that the various nicknames people have assigned to the Vigilante of Yokohama reference other vigilante characters in Batman and other comic book media: the (Grey) Ghost, Wraith (Spider-Man) and the Phantom (Stranger).