Chapter Text
2007
Hub City University
Victor 'Vic' Sage saw smoke rising from one of the windows of the ground floor, and quickly rushed inside, passing the guard who cried out. "Hey wait a-"
Vic didn't even break stride, completely ignoring that guard, running in to the direction of the smoke, and kicked open the door of the place, seeing Professor Aristotle "Tot" Rodor throwing some papers into a fire, while Dr. Arby Twain threw in another paper, which made the fire flare up for a bit, the flames rising, the smoke of this fire going out of the window.
"Professor Tot", Vic said, causing Tot to look up at him. "What's going on?"
"We abandoned a project, Vic", Tot informed him, as he and Twain threw another page each into the fire, burning them into nothingness. "The Pseudoderm project."
"What's that about?" Vic asked, curious.
"It's an artificial skin, works like a bandage with the help of a bonding gas that works alongside it", Twain explained while walking off to get more papers. "The two of us, we developed it together."
"And you're burning it because…..does the skin become permanent and take the place of the original, affecting the person used on, and making them act erratically because they believe they're a new person now?"
Walking back to the fire, Twain looked at Tot in confusion over what Vic had just said, his expression clearly making it clear that he was thinking- 'What the hell did this guy even say?'
Tot sighed, taking off his glasses and running a hand across his face. "No Vic. It could be toxic, and it was especially found to be fatal when applied to open wounds. We tested it on an injured rat, it was gone." There was guilt on his face, even for a lab rat, while he put his glasses back on. "While it won't be harmful to normal skin, the risk is too much, especially when people get open wounds. So, we've decided to let go of this project."
"Lots of years of research wasted though", Twain sighed, Vic glancing at him with one raised eyebrow, detecting some hint of bitterness.
The flames rose before them, shining in Tot's eye. "Maybe it's for the best."
Vic just watched the flames rising, his expression unreadable, while the flames briefly formed a 'question mark' symbol in his eyes as they lashed.
A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.
Present Day, 2014
Vic Sage walked into the KBEL News headquarters, his bag slung over his shoulder, opening the revolving doors, passing by a woman, who greeted him. "Hey Vic."
"Hi, Maria."
He walked forth, another guy waving. "Vic."
"John."
While he greeted back, his voice seemed quite…..detached. And cold, even.
Very soon, he made his way into his office, cluttered with various papers, some even on the ground. He was sure the janitor had actually missed his office on purpose, considering the mess here. There were also many papers with writings, pictures, and newspaper clippings, all stapled onto the wall at various points, with some writings including 'What happened to the cat?' and 'Was the Particle Accelerator Explosion planned?' and so on.
Sitting at his desk, Vic went through various papers, before lifting out a half-written article- 'Are all the police bought?'
That was when Earle appeared at his door. "Vic, boss wants to see you."
Picking up the half-written article, Vic walked out of his office, into his boss' office.
"Vic, I thought I told you I needed that article by today, hmm?" Bear McCready asked him, sitting in a cross-legged position.
"Here, boss, half-ready", Vic said, putting it down at his desk. "Give me a little time, by end of day, this will be done and at your desk."
"Let me see!" Drinking some of his coffee, Bear leaned in, and took the article, skimming through it. Then, he put it back at the desk. "Scrap this, start over with something else."
"But bo-"
"Do you know what this is?" McCready asked, looking very annoyed.
"A smoking gun."
"Yes, when the police come after us, they'll have a lot of smoking guns once they're done", McCready argued. "All you're doing is making a volatile situation slip even harder, Vic. You don't even have any proof!"
"I do, actually."
"Like you did about the boyband thing?"
"Do you want to see the proof?" Vic challenged him.
"No, I want you to drop this. You've 3 more days, come up with something better, and I'll publish it", McCready told Vic in a tone that left no room for arguments.
Vic picked his article back up, and folded the paper, putting it into his pocket while glaring at McCready. "McCready, if I wanted to write clickbait, I'd be working for BuzzBreak. We expose the rot, or we're just part of it."
"I'm trying to make sure none of us rot six feet under the ground", McCready snarled, as Vic shrugged and walked off, back into his office, and shut the door, slamming the article on his desk angrily, making some papers fly here and there, while he sat down, and reached into his bag, searching through it.
"All of them, trying to press down on me."
A few seconds later, he took out a small packet, looking at the material inside. Opening the packet up, Vic poured the powder on his hand, and sniffed it with his nose, just as his phone beeped, and he took it out with his other hand, opening it up to see that it was a message from Myra Connelly- 'Hi Vic. We still up for coffee?'
Vic quickly sent her the auto-reply of 'yes', then sniffed what was in his hand again, his head leaning back against his chair as he grunted happily at what he was feeling from the effects of this powder. If no one wanted to listen to him, fine. He'd still do something to feel good at least.
A door opened, and out walked Tot, throwing some trash out into the dustbin, before picking up the newspaper that had been delivered to him, and looking around, he went back inside, shutting the door, walking through an old, dusty and cluttered lab, looking at various items inside, including a hat that he kept in the corner, then at a safe for a few seconds longer than he did at anything else that was in the room. After that, he lifted a cloth and used it to dust a corner, then sat down on his seat, relaxing a bit, looking ahead at some chemicals bubbling up in flasks, after which he opened the newspaper, noting the front page was about two mysterious deaths in police custody, which he was not surprised by.
He flipped through the pages, reading about a mugging, then a robbery, and another mugging!
On the third page, his eyebrow raised when he saw something interesting.
'Toxic skin graft causes death of a soldier.'
Tot tilted his head, running a hand through his hair. Why did this remind him of something?
Standing up, Tot put the newspaper down, and walked off to change.
Vic arrived at 'The Hub', wearing sunglasses now, and saw Myra Connelly waving to him from a seat, Vic waving back and walking to where she was, pulling out his chair and sitting down, before taking his sunglasses off. "Myra."
"Good to see you too, Vic." Myra held out her hand, that Vic shook. "Been three months now."
Vic nodded, looking to the TV in the café behind her, which showed Mayor Wesley Fermin speaking. "I am not resisting any investigation upon me."
"Is it true that you're supporting your fiancée's campaign for the next election?" One reporter asked.
"She is my fiancée, of course I'm supporting her! I think she has some very good ideas, that shall improve this city's infrastructure."
"Are there skeletons under her closet, like yours?" One more reporter asked him.
"She is not corrupt, and neither am I!" Wesley said in reply.
Vic scoffed, picking up the menu. "As if he is going to answer any of that truthfully."
Myra turned to Vic, looking offended. "Vic!"
"No, seriously, that guy?" Vic gestured with his head at Wesley on the TV. "I didn't take you for a fixer-upper type."
"He is not, Vic!" Myra argued to him, the waitress arriving.
"Latte." Vic's response was instant, the waitress noting it down.
"Cold coffee", Myra added, the waitress noting that down also before walking off, Myra turning back to glare at Vic.
"Do you have any proof?"
"It's written all over him. Besides, name one Mayor in this city in the last 50 years who was not corrupt."
"I want to be Mayor, if I get it, would I be corrupt too?" Myra inquired.
"Well, power does corrupt." Then he noticed the glare she was giving him. "But of course, change happens, I think. You can be the change this city needs." He shook his head. "But not with that guy's support on you."
"Do you really think he is corrupt, or are you just jealous?" Myra finally asked, Vic scoffing while rubbing his face.
"You really think its about that?" He asked her, sounding offended for once. "People, always blaming everything on negative emotions. Whoever wired us this way, he or she definitely watches us all like we're a TV show, for their entertainment."
Myra rolled her eyes at his conspiracy theory. "Look, Vic, I'm happy with Wesley, can't you just be happy for me?" As the waitress returned with their coffees and put them down, Myra added. "Can we not talk about him, and just be friends having coffee?"
"Well, it is what I was invited for, I think, so friends having coffee it is", Vic commented, lifting up his mug, as did Myra.
"You do support my campaign though, right?"
"I hate politicians in this city. Corrupt scum, putting us all down, most of all me, the guy who knows the truth." Myra winced a bit. "But, you're not like the rest. Only politician I support." Leaning back, he added. "But don't expect me to write any articles of endorsement."
Myra looked mock-offended. "I am so hurt, Vic."
Vic just chuckled.
Tot sat in a restaurant, looking up to see Twain arrive, dressed up nicely. Twain sat down in front of Tot, both of them shaking hands.
"Tot, been a while. Last time was-"
"At the University", Tot finished, Twain nodding at that, while Tot looked Twain up and down. "You look good."
"You don't." There was a smirk on Twain's face when he made that reply, Tot looking down at himself, knowing just how unkempt he was, especially compared to Twain, but this was not the reason that he was here. "Why'd you call me?"
"You remember our Pseudoderm experiment, right?" Tot inquired, and Twain nodded once more.
"How can I forget? Research after research, and then we threw it all away."
"Did we, Twain?" Tot inquired, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"What are you talking about?" Twain asked back in response, seeming to be confused by this.
Tot put the paper down right in front of Twain, open at the page where he'd read the news about the death in Afghanistan.
"This is what I'm talking about, Twain!"
Twain looked down at the newspaper, seeing the headline about some soldier in Afghanistan dying due to some toxic skin graft.
"Reminds you of something?" Tot inquired, tilting his head. "I remember Pseudoderm did the exact same thing when it was applied on someone with open wounds."
"I don't know anything about this, Tot!" Twain snapped. "I didn't even know about this death until you showed me the paper."
"You and I were the only ones who knew about this", Tot pointed out. "And I've not been selling any skin grafts anywhere."
"And you think I did it?" Twain asked, seeming hurt, though Tot was unmoved. "But wait, I wasn't the only one who knew, right?"
Tot leaned back. "You mean-"
"That friend of yours, the journalism intern-"
"Vic Sage."
"Right, Vic Sage!"
"He is an actual full-on journalist now, at KBEL News. Appears on the TV too."
"Weird, didn't see him", Twain commented. "Then again, I don't watch the news, so I wouldn't know."
"Right."
"Well, he knew about this as well, since he walked in on us when we were burning our research", Twain reminded Tot. "Maybe he grabbed some of it and snuck out with it."
"Then waited until now to sell it?" Tot asked, seeming puzzled by that, because of Vic wanted to make a profit off of the Pseudoderm, he'd have done it back then instead of seven years later.
"And you think I would sell it seven years later instead of just back then?" Twain asked instead, not really answering any questions, only asking more in return, something that Tot could see all too well.
Folding his arms, Tot leaned back. "Well-"
"Look, it was good to see you, Tot, but I don't have much time to remember failed experiments." Twain stood up and walked off. "See you around." Tot just watched him leave, then looked back at the newspaper headline, not buying Twain's act one bit.
Later
Vic returned to his apartment, and shut the door, before dropping his bag, looking at the wall, which had even more photos and newspaper clippings attached here and there on a board via a lot of tape, one page stuck there saying- 'Are Springwood, Haddonfield and Camp Crystal Lake standing on ley lines?'
A few seconds later, a boxing bag was set up, hanging from the ceiling, and Vic was in a tank top, wearing boxing gloves. He cracked his knuckles and neck, then began to throw punch after punch after punch at the bag, shaking and then moving it with each blow that he gave it. It didn't move too far, but did move by a decent distance, showing Vic's striking strength was just fine.
Then, he threw some kicks at the bag also, alongside his punches, the bag shaking here and there with each blow of his, until, about one and a half hours later, Vic was finally tired, and he took off his gloves, putting them to the side, before putting the bag down, and he sat on the ground, panting due to the effort of the exercise.
Seeing his bag, Vic reached into it, taking out another packet. He was about to pull out the powder, when suddenly, his phone rang, making him drop it.
Turning to his phone, Vic saw that it was Tot, which made him narrow his eyes.
Reaching to the phone, Vic accepted the call and put it to his ear. "What's up, Tot?"
"There's something I need to talk to you about, Victor. Meet me at my lab."
Well, this was serious, Vic mused as he cut the call and put the phone down.
Tot had just called him 'Victor', which meant something was up.
Vic looked at the packet with the powder that he'd dropped, and with a shaking hand, he reached out to it, staring at it for a few seconds. Then, he released a deep breath that he did not realize he'd been holding, and grasped the bag, pulling it towards him, putting the packet back inside, for now at least.
After that, he got up, and moved away to change, so he could meet Tot.
Later
Vic walked into his cab, and closed the door, the driver driving away, while Vic looked out the window, his eyes narrowing on seeing a cop shoving a civilian into a corner.
"Where's the money?" The cop asked, the man crying.
"Please, just one more-" He was cut off when the cop took out his gun and pistol-whipped the guy hard, making his head bleed while he fell down, crying more.
"Clearly, you're not taking the consequences seriously."
Vic leaned back in the backseat of the cab, sighing as he ran a hand across his face, wondering if this city was gonna go anywhere anytime soon.
There was a knock on the door of Tot's lab, and he walked to it, opening it up to reveal Vic.
"Hey Tot." Vic's voice was solemn.
"Come in, Vic." Vic walked in, Tot closing the door and locking it up, Vic seeing just how cluttered the place was, as Tot used his cloth to wipe a seat, and pulled it out for Vic, while taking his own seat also.
"Doesn't look as good as your old place", Vic commented.
"I'm not at the university anymore", Tot pointed out.
"It's just a pattern", Vic commented to Tot. "Life has a way of pushing down on the good guys, and punching up the bad ones. Especially in this city. Someone might be responsible. I'll try to find out."
"Vic, do you remember when you walked in on me and Twain burning some research in the university seven years ago?" Tot inquired, and Vic looked up, his eyes lighting up as he remembered that very scene vividly in his head.
"I remember, yes. What about it?"
"I think not all of the Pseudoderm was destroyed." Tot put the paper in Vic's lap, Vic now reading the headline about the soldier in Afghanistan.
"Remember the effects that we'd described?"
"It is fatal if applied on open skin", Vic remembered. "And a soldier- he'd have open skin."
"Exactly."
"I know you're not selling it, so is it Twain?" Vic asked, coming to the logical and most likely conclusion even before Tot could share his suspicions with the journalist.
"It has to be Twain. I asked him earlier, he got way too defensive to be innocent", Tot agreed with Vic, taking a seat in front of the man. "Now, because of his actions, a man has died. And if he continues with this, even more people could die because of this carelessness."
Vic commented with a thoughtful look. "If that stuff's still out there, people are gonna die."
Sharing another look with Tot, Vic immediately got up, putting the newspaper down. "I'm going into look into it."
"Are you going to ask Twain about it?" Tot inquired, as Vic turned around and walked away.
"Liars don't admit. What I need is to make sure everyone knows about it, whether Twain wants them to or not."
With that, Vic reached the door, and opened it up, sharing one more look with Tot. "I'll see you when I get more." With that, he shut the door while Tot sighed, then rubbed his head.
Vic stood on a rooftop, adjacent to Twain's own apartment, using binoculars to look ahead at the man's place.
This city is rotten, from top to bottom. The Mayor only cares about his power, and the police are all free to let crime go on as long as it benefits them. Hub City is…worse than Gotham and Starling. And it is up to people like us to try and make a difference…even as the higher-ups push down upon us to stifle our voices.
Vic watched through the transparent window, seeing via binoculars that Twain had opened his door. Now, he was talking to a man, and discreetly slipped a packet to him, the two shaking hands, before Twain closed the door quickly.
Twain hopes, with this deal, to become one of the elite, so he too can escape the consequences of his actions. But he doesn't know, that he has me on his case.
Vic then looked down with his binoculars, seeing a car standing there.
Quickly, he ran towards the building's elevator, and used it to get down, then ran out, seeing the man that Twain had just spoken to, walking out of the other building himself, then getting into a black car, which he used to drive away.
Vic turned to see a cab arriving, and held out his hand, stopping the cabbie, after which he opened the backdoor and took his seat while closing it. "Follow that black car, please."
The cabbie looked weirded out, but drove forth anyways, before asking Vic. "Haven't I seen you before?"
"Don't think so", Vic shrugged, not telling the guy that he was a news reporter for KBEL News after all.
He looked down at the setting sun, wondering how this day in the city would end for him.
The cab stopped near a warehouse at the docks, Vic paying the cabbie, before getting out, hearing the tires screech as the cabbie drove off, while Vic walked closer to the place, seeing two people pass by, so he spun and hid behind a crate, now hearing their footsteps moving away, which made him sigh in relief.
He popped his head out, seeing the two were far off now, and noted the door was locked, but the windows were not.
Seeing no one around in the vicinity, he quickly made his way towards the window as fast as he could without running, considering that would be heard, and expose him. When he got closer, Vic rolled and got underneath the window, before grasping it, and got up a little, looking inside to see what was going on.
The courier of Twain had just taken out a packet, which he handed over to another man, who went off with it to a corner, Vic quickly taking out his phone and taking a picture, making sure his phone was on silent. He saw some more chemicals bubbling up here and there in the place, clearly a lab of sorts, with people working here and there.
He took more pictures, getting back down when someone turned to his direction, and he heard footsteps close-by from inside, so he stayed down until the guy was past, and he knelt up again, taking a few more pictures.
"Where's the next sale?" He heard one guy asking, so he turned the recorder of his phone on.
Another one was about to reply. "Well, we did Afghanistan, guy said Pak-"
Vic was suddenly grabbed from behind by the collar, making him drop his phone as he gasped, because of which it couldn't detect the sounds from inside the warehouse properly, missing the crucial detail. Vic used his arm to cover his face as he was turned around by one guard. "What the hell are you-"
Vic quickly decked him in the solar plexus, making him gasp, while the other guard tried to punch but Vic grabbed him and threw him to the ground, punching him hard thrice, breaking his nose, after which he rolled away and grabbed his phone, though the first guard recovered and grabbed his foot, trying to drag him back, injuring his face.
"INTRUDER!"
Vic lashed out with his other foot, kicking the guy's face and throwing him off, after which he got up while pocketing his phone, seeing the door open, and he turned around and rushed off, running zig-zag, avoiding the shots fired at him, though one grazed his coat, making him wince, even as he managed to run off, the gunshots still being heard by him until he was a far distance away.
"Who the hell was that?" The courier from earlier asked while walking out.
"No idea, but he could have something."
The courier glared at the guards. "You two had one job." They groaned on the ground, bleeding and in pain, while he took out his phone. "I'm calling the boss."
Tot heard a knock on his door, and quickly walked to it, opening it up to see Vic panting, his coat having a hole on its shoulder.
"What the hell happened, Vic?" Tot asked, closing the door, as Vic staggered inside, taking his seat.
"Two guards almost got me", Vic confessed sadly. "Took a few pictures, but got interrupted before I could record what they were talking about. Had to hide my face while running away."
"If they saw your face, you're a dead man", Tot pointed out grimly, walking to a table, pouring some coffee for Vic and himself. "I'm not sure how we're gonna handle a second time, since the danger isn't going to go away. They'd be even more careful now."
"Which means I have to be as well", Vic noted, Tot walking to him with two cups of coffee, Vic taking one as he sipped, and Tot sipped from the other. "I know a way that can be done."
"What?" Tot inquired, putting his cup down after taking another sip.
"Pseudoderm was a breakthrough", Vic hypothesized. "Even with its fatal effect on open wounds, which you couldn't find a way to fix, something like that can't be thrown into the trash. You were always a bit of an optimist, Tot. I know you'd have kept some of it. Not used it, or even thought of selling it, but kept it in the hope that one day, you could improve it, and remove that side-effect." He looked at Tot directly in the eyes. "Am I right on that?"
Tot just stared at him for a few seconds, then took off his glasses while rubbing his face. "Sometimes I wonder how you don't have the answer to if God is real or not."
"I might", Vic shrugged, as Tot walked towards a safe, and kneeling, turned it, until he got the right code, then opened it up, taking out a small packet of what was clearly Pseudoderm.
"Not much, but it will cover your face", Tot said, looking reluctant. "But if you've an open wound-"
"I don't", Vic cut him off while getting up and taking the packet from him. "I'm not an idiot, Tot. I wouldn't wear this if I did. If I get one, I'll wear a bandage first, then this over it." Seeing Tot's look, he added. "Looking fabulous isn't really a concern of mine when I want to get to such stories without being seen."
'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays
Sage stood in front of the mirror, staring at his face, Tot in the corner, arms folded.
"I made some modifications."
Vic put the Pseudoderm mask on, the features on his face slowly disappearing.
"It doesn't just hide your face."
Vic continued to watch, seeing that there was no face on him now.
It was just a blank. People would question what kind of thing he was if they believed in the supernatural.
"There's a bonding gas. It changes your hair color."
And it did, Vic's hair slowly changing their shade to red.
"Your clothes also."
Vic looked down in the mirror, seeing his coat turn purple now.
"Pretty much, who you are would be a question to everyone."
Behind his faceless mask, Vic smirked, then walked to the corner, picking up the hat that Tot had kept here, putting it on.
"With the Pseudoderm, the hat will stick to your head as long as you've that mask on", Tot informed Vic, who just nodded on hearing that, satisfied with this disguise.
"This time, I'll get my answers."
"Good luck", Tot said, watching Vic walk off.
"How could you let this happen?" Twain angrily yelled at the courier. "We need to find this man, quickly!" Groaning, he added. "And get all the evidence away from this place, then burn it down!" Everyone continued to stare at him, including the courier. "NOW!" All of them immediately got to work.
The two guards were patrolling again, the one with the broken nose having a bandage on his nose, both sharing a look.
"Think we're fired?" The one who'd been kicked by Vic inquired.
"Come on, we tried our best! Look at me!" He pointed at his nose. "They shouldn't blame us, when all of them shot at him and he still esca-"
Suddenly, he was pushed into the other guard, both falling down to the ground, and as they looked up, a boot smashed on their faces each.
Inside, Twain watched, seeing the courier and another man about to pour some oil on the ground, while three others were removing chemicals, and two were loading crates.
"We've 15 minutes! Do it fast!"
That was when the lights shut off.
"Who turned off the lights?"
"Wasn't me?"
"Check it out, you idiots!"
A flashlight was turned on by one of the men loading the crates, and he looked it to search around for the switchboard, turning around, before his light fell on a face.
Or lack thereof.
He screamed in horror just as his own face was grabbed, and then he got punched twice, before going silent.
"FIND IT!"
The lights suddenly came on, the other guy at the crates having blindly found the switchboard, which was when he was suddenly grabbed by the back of his head, and it got slammed into the switchboard, breaking it and turning off the lights again, this time permanently.
The remaining five took out their guns, firing blindly, Twain crying out. "Show your face and face us, you coward!"
Looking at the courier and the other guy, Twain noted they'd dropped the oil already. "Torch it."
The courier took out a lighter to do as asked, lighting it up, when suddenly, his wrist was grabbed, and the 'no-face' appeared in his own face, unnerving him.
"What the-"
Vic headbutted him hard, knocking him out, only for the lighter to fall from his grip before Vic could take it, and it fell to the ground, causing fire to light up, Vic now visible to the remaining people.
Twain's eyes widened in horror on seeing the man's blank face, then, he narrowed them in realization. "Wait, you have the-"
The other four men just started firing at Vic, who rolled away to avoid, and got underneath a table, then on its other side, and even as they fired at him, he kicked the table, shattering the flasks and spilling the chemicals, some of those splashing at two of the men's shoes, burning through and getting to their feet, making them scream in pain.
The other two backed off wisely, while firing in Vic's direction, but he ran around, avoiding all, and disappeared into the darkness, where the light of the flames did not reach. The two looked here and there, trying to find him, when one's head was smashed from behind by a chemical flask, the chemical burning the back of his head as he cried out in pain and fell down, his head burnt, and as the other turned, Vic grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into a wall, grasping his wrist also, hitting it on the wall as he dropped his gun.
The man then decked Vic's 'no-face', making him fall to the floor, and smashed his foot on Vic's chest thrice, Vic gasping.
"You're a dead man, you hear me?!" The man snarled, grabbing Vic's collar. "I'm gonna-" Vic grasped his wrist and decked his face, staggering him, and grabbing his throat, started pushing up, until he was standing up, though the man still struggled, only for Vic to smash the back of his head on the wall, making him cry out in pain before he fell down, concussed.
Then, Vic turned around, seeing Twain aiming a gun at him with shaking hands.
"Stay back!" He backed off, even as Vic walked at him. "I said STAY BACK!" Vic didn't, causing Twain to shoot, but Vic rolled away to avoid it, and he hid behind a crate, hearing the clicking of the gun when the bullets ran out after Twain continued to fire in his direction. Before Twain could begin to reload, Vic rolled out and got up, grabbing him by the collar.
"You have the Pseudoderm!" Twain gasped, before Vic threw him down, then reached into his pocket. "Who the hell are you?"
"Good question", Vic noted. "I've a better one- why are you selling Pseudoderm?"
"It was a breakthrough! And that idiot Tot decided it should be torched for ONE FLAW!" Twain screamed at Vic, the fire now spreading.
"That flaw caused a death", Vic snarled at him. "And you were going to cause more, as long as you got your money, didn't you?"
"So what? You need money to survive in a city like this one!" Twain simply said. "All this city does is crush us otherwise!"
Vic kneeled down to his level. "It does. But it is up to us to not become crushers like everyone else." Vic shook his head. "You became one. And now you're torching this place so that-"
"To remove evidence", Twain shrugged. "You can't prove I did it! You-"
"Can't I?" Vic suddenly grabbed Twain's hand, and reaching out, grabbed a chemical flask, then poured it on the hand, causing Twain to scream and cry out in pain.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Bet the guy who died felt just like this in his last moments, but much worse", Vic sneered, then grabbed Twain by the back of the collar, dragging him out of the warehouse, which burnt behind them, and as they reached out, he threw Twain on the ground.
"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Twain asked, still holding his hand, only to hear sirens.
"Nope, called them. They suck", Vic said, pointing to the direction of the siren-lights. "But they'll take care of you. Besides, you got to explain why you were here at this time anyways."
Sneering, Twain asked Vic angrily, "You think you're some hero? The world doesn't care about your little crusade."
"No, it doesn't." Vic shook his head. "But I do."
With that, he walked off, Twain lifting his head to see the 'no-face' man disappear into the dark of the night, while police cars stopped nearby, some cops getting out with guns raised, walking near the fallen Twain, to detain him.
Vic, having a slight bruise on his face, put the phone in front of Tot, both listening to the recording.
"It was a breakthrough! And that idiot Tot decided it should be torched for ONE FLAW!"
"That flaw caused a death. And you were going to cause more, as long as you got your money, didn't you?"
"So what? You need money to survive in a city like this one! All this city does is crush us otherwise!"
Tot looked up at Vic, grinning a bit, as Vic then pressed buttons on the phone, sending the recording to Tot.
"Think you can modify my voice a bit more, and leak it onto the Internet?"
"Child's play, Vic, child's play." Tot lifted up his own phone that had received the recording and walked off to do as asked, before walking back, holding out his hand.
"What?" Vic asked, confused. "I'm not holding anything." He narrowed his eyes. "Unless, you can somehow see atoms in that direction and want to hold them."
Tot tilted his head in confusion, then said. "The mask."
Vic looked thoughtful, Tot asking. "What's the matter?"
"I liked using it", Vic confessed. "Helped me take down Twain, and his men. They didn't even see my face. And after the truth is out, no one is going to listen to him anyways. They won't put two and two together, about this mask being Pseudoderm."
"So you're trying to say that-"
"Gonna use it for some more cases", Vic said with a shrug.
"Just for more sto-"
"You didn't mind when it was your story", Vic pointed out.
"I just wanted to stop the misuse of this invention", Tot replied to that.
Vic smirked. "And I want the corrupt elite to stop misusing this city's resources. That's the real fight, Tot, not a few stories."
With that, he turned around and walked off, Tot watching after him with some concern and hesitation, before walking to this phone to do as asked.
KBEL News
McCready saw an article slammed down on his desk, then looked up to see Vic, noting he'd a slight bruise.
"You look bad."
"Looked worse." Vic shrugged, before McCready started reading the news article, and narrowed his eyes.
"Your proof is-"
"Its all over the Internet already, guy's own words." Vic held out his phone, and revealed an audio clip of the recording on the Internet. "I was looking into him even before this. So I got more details. Want the city to hear?"
McCready just stared at Vic.
Later
Sitting in front of the camera, Vic began to speak. "The recording that has taken this city by storm- respected scientist and Professor Arby Twain was found selling a material he and Professor Aristotle Rodor made but discarded seven years ago, to countries with less resources. Professor Aristotle was reached out for comment, and he revealed it was an artificial skin, working alongside a bonding gas. But it was fatal when applied on open wounds, which is why it was discarded. However, it has been brought to light that Professor Twain did not discard the research, or his part of the material."
An image of Twain appeared behind him. "And it caused the death of a soldier in Afghanistan. Now though, he has been arrested. Question is, what more secrets are the respected in this city hiding? And who is this 'no-face' man he and his men claim took down their operation? More tonight."
Later
Vic sat in his apartment, taking out some powder, and sniffing it again, before his phone beeped, and he saw it was Myra.
"Your story was good. Maybe this city does have hope, because of you of all people."
Vic just put the phone away, and continued sniffing.
'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays
At nighttime, Vic, now wearing the Pseudoderm mask again, stood on a rooftop, looking down across the entire city.
Hub City has the highest amount of corruption out of all cities in America.
The cop from earlier was pistol-whipping the civilian again.
"You're out of time now!" The cop snarled.
But it is up to the people, to rebel. Clearly, they're all on a leash, given fear or money, or both. Both makes sense.
The cop raised his pistol again.
I don't fear these people. Why be scared when they can't see your face, and you can see theirs?
As the cop brought the pistol down, his hand was suddenly grasped, and he turned to see Vic in his mask standing there.
And I don't want money. All I want…is answers to my questions!
Vic shoved the cop into the wall, and slammed his hand on it thrice, disarming him, before the cop kneed his gut, winding him, and punched him down, lifting up his baton while the civilian he was harassing ran off.
"That was a mistake, you 'no-face' bastard. Who the hell are you?"
As he brought it down, Vic suddenly kicked his gut with both feet, staggering him back, and standing up, grasped his face, and the hand holding the baton.
"Good question, as I always say."
With that, he slammed the guy's head on the wall, making him drop the baton, while he slid down, holding his head in pain, and pinning him down, Vic continued to punch his face, which bled.
Ending credits play.