Dear Heroes, I really am a Villain-Chapter 82: Caught a Rat

— Night – The Fringe —

Within the VIP room of the most luxurious club in the Fringe, Euphoria Club, a lanky man with an arrogant smile, like he owned the world! Sat on a couch surrounded by food and expensive wine.

Beautiful women catered to him. His clothes were discarded, and several women in skimpy outfits clung to him as they made love. With a lustful grin, the man touched and groped here and there, feeling like the king of the world. The women obeyed his every command as he paid them like there was no tomorrow.

That man was Doc, the one who had run away from the expedition, leaving Maximilian and the others to die.

Doc had just been paid that morning. As the expedition’s sole survivor, he received a whopping five million dollars for doing nothing more than driving and avoiding danger. This was the most profitable job he’d ever taken. He owed it all to those fools... especially Honiahaka.

That guy was the biggest fool of all, staying in place waiting for the client. If he had just returned to the APC, Doc wouldn’t have had the chance to escape with the money!

And then there was that idiot Radio. She suddenly told him she had some business to attend to, then walked off alone into a mutant-infested zone. By now, they must’ve all become mutant food!

Doc congratulated himself on his brilliance. Escaping at just the right time had saved his life. If he had waited around, he might’ve been a corpse too. He felt a bit guilty... but the weight of five million dollars instantly made all that guilt vanish.

In his mind, this was proof that money really could wash away guilt. No wonder so many crooks existed in the world.

That said, the five million wasn’t all for him. He had to spend one million to bribe an officer at the Expedition Center to fake the inspection report, since he was the sole survivor and couldn’t afford for the inspection to actually happen.

Otherwise, the money would be withheld because he had escaped early and didn’t wait the required three days as stated in the contract. Without that bribe, he wouldn’t have gotten the money at all!

He planned to use two million to start a business in the city. Smuggling ring? Drug dealing? Maybe even an underground clinic, he did have some medical knowledge.

But serious plans could wait.

Right now, it was time to enjoy life.

"C’mon! Aaahhh, get lively, girls! I’ll give another 100,000 to whoever makes me cum!" Doc shouted with a lustful groan, moaning in euphoria as he indulged in the carnal pleasures the women provided.

Buzz....

Suddenly, the lights went out. All the disco and multicolored lighting that fueled the lustful atmosphere vanished in an instant.

The women in his embrace screamed at the unexpected blackout. This club had never experienced an electricity problem since it was first built.

"What? What happened?" Doc muttered, glancing around in confusion, his eyes straining to adjust to the sudden darkness.

"The lights outside are still on! What happened to the lights in this room?" one of the women asked in confusion. Normally, a blackout would affect the entire establishment.

Then came the sound of footsteps outside the room, the loud, deliberate steps that stopped right in front of the door.

Bam!

The door swung open, and the lights came back on; this time, it was not the disco lights that set the lustful mood but harsh, normal neon lighting.

A group of muscular men in Hawaiian shirts entered, led by a man wearing shades and a black leather jacket over his own floral shirt. It was Ricardo and his gang.

"Party’s over, girls. Get out. This is between us and this rat!" Ricardo said, shooting a disdainful glare at Doc.

Confused but experienced enough in this line of work to sense trouble, the women quickly gathered their clothes and slipped out of the room without a word.

Ricardo sniffed the air, then made a disgusted face like he’d just inhaled a mix of cat piss and fishy tuna stench.

"Bag this rat!" Ricardo ordered one of his brothers.

Without hesitation, one of them cracked his knuckles with a dangerous smirk, then delivered a powerful punch to Doc’s chin. Doc dropped unconscious instantly. The man then shoved Doc’s limp body into a large travel bag.

Ricardo and his crew exited the VIP room with the bulky bag in tow. They made their way toward the club’s back entrance, where the owner met them.

"Thanks for your cooperation. Here’s a little something for your trouble," Ricardo said, handing the owner a thick stack of bills with $100,000 in cash.

Since the event at the Don Reale estate, Ricardo’s gang had turned their fortunes around. Now, nearly everyone in the Fringe knew them as the most reliable and effective gang when it came to collecting protection fees. They took the word "protection" in its truest sense, often helping establishments deal with troublemakers or unwanted incidents.

For example, if some corporate big shot trashed a place, Ricardo’s gang would show up, beat the offender to a pulp, and demand compensation several times more than the damages.

Over the past few days, this specialty had elevated the gang’s reputation. Many businesses, especially the more questionable ones, were eager to pay Ricardo’s crew for real protection.

Ricardo’s gang also never demanded extra fees, always collected on time, and never deliberately harmed the establishments they protected. This earned them even more respect and recognition.

In many ways, Ricardo’s gang had become like a violent, underground insurance company, except they ensured justice was served with their fists.

As for those who couldn’t afford to pay? Well, they’d be asked to settle the debt with their bodies, whether that meant a kidney or something else. One way or another, those who caused trouble always found a way to pay it back.

"Thank you, Mr. Navarro," the owner said with a smile as he accepted the pocket money.

"Also, we’ll exempt your establishment from paying this month’s fee. Enjoy the profits, Pete," Ricardo said with a smile, patting the owner on the shoulder.

"Oh! Thanks again, Mr. Navarro," the owner repeated his gratitude.

Ricardo’s men carried the travel bag to the car trunk, and Ricardo got into the car and drove off into the distance.

— The Fringe – Half an hour later —

Doc woke up in a dark room filled with servers and data storage stacks piled on top of each other. The low hum of an air conditioner echoed in the background. The only illumination came from blinking server lights and the soft glow of monitors, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Two people were present.

The first was a muscular man wearing a jacket over a red Hawaiian shirt.

The second... was a beautiful woman with black hair tied in a ponytail and a black metallic bionic right arm. She was Switch, one of the mercenaries who had been on the expedition with him.

She was typing something on the keyboard, and the monitors displayed long streams of code.

"Hello, Doc. You’re finally awake," Switch said coldly, turning to face him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Ah! Switch! I’m sorry—I thought you were dead. It’s good to see you!" Doc immediately faked his friendliness. Now that his life was in the hands of this crazy woman and the mysterious man in the Hawaiian shirt, he didn’t dare show any anger or contempt.

"Ohhh~ I see. You’re happy to see me?" Switch replied with a grin—then suddenly, her bionic arm slapped him across the face.

Pow!

The impact shattered several of Doc’s teeth, which he spat out onto the floor along with a stream of blood.

"F*ck—"

Pow!

Another punch landed, this time on his other cheek.

"This is my f*cking house! You’re dirtying it with your rat blood! Do you want to die!?" Ricardo roared in fury.

"I... I’m sorry!" Doc stammered, immediately apologizing.

"Where’s the money?" Switch asked coldly, her eyes fixed on Doc.

"What? What money? Do you mean the payout from the last expedition?" Doc feigned ignorance.

"Doc, do I look like a three-year-old to you? I know you already took the money from the last expedition. Transfer it back. That money doesn’t belong to you. I’m giving it back to Max," Switch said firmly.

"Max? Oh! That guy’s name... Isn’t he dead yet?"

Pow!

"Ugh! Aaargh—cough!"

Ricardo’s punch landed square in his stomach, causing Doc to vomit up everything he had eaten at the club.

"That was my boss’s brother... Be careful what you say about him," Ricardo warned, glaring at Doc with contempt.

"Ah... hahaha. So that sheep was one of the gang!? Hahaha..." Doc laughed weakly, looking at Ricardo and Switch with defiance.

At first, he thought paying them off might make this whole thing go away. But the moment he realized it was gang money they were after, he knew he had no hope of surviving this. So... if he was going to die anyway, then he’d make sure they didn’t get what they wanted.

"Go ahead... kill me, then! And you can forget about your money. I have a pain inhibitor implant in my brain. As long as I activate it, your torture means nothing to me... Hahahaha!" Doc laughed loudly, reveling in his own defiance.