Yesterday had been an exception—it was his first day, and formalities made sense then. But he didn't need to report to the director every time.
That would be a waste of everyone's time. As for Kaina, if she wanted to see him, she knew exactly where and how to find him. Right now, his focus was on doing his job.
Despite being called the "archives room," the place looked nothing like a traditional library. Instead of shelves filled with books, it was a massive, open space lit by artificial overhead lights. Rows of desks stretched from wall to wall, each equipped with a computer and a printer—useful for those who preferred physical copies over staring at a screen for hours.
Mewtwo walked between the narrow aisles, searching for an unoccupied desk.
In his transformed state, navigating the space was awkward. The room wasn't designed for larger individuals—especially not those with tails or other non-human features.
It was a frustrating but common problem in society. For all its progress, the world still catered primarily to those with standard body types.
Mutation-type Quirks like his were often left out of design considerations, forcing people like him to adapt in uncomfortable ways.
With a quiet sigh, Mewtwo undid his transformation, letting his body return to its human form. It was the only way he could sit properly and use the equipment without knocking something over. Once settled, he logged into the system using the credentials the Bureau had given him the day before. He had been assigned a single investigation: the port activity case.
The details were straightforward, but suspicious. Just as the director had mentioned, there had been reports of movement at the city's port outside of official operating hours.
Nothing too intense, but enough to raise red flags. The port wasn't running at full capacity recently, so any off-schedule activity stood out. Unauthorized use of the space could mean smuggling, trafficking, or some other form of illegal operation.
Mewtwo scrolled through the files, analyzing timestamps, logs, and reports. What stood out wasn't just the activity itself—it was the lack of internal documentation. None of the port guards had reported anything unusual. One guard, in particular, had logged a completely uneventful night.
But that didn't line up with external evidence.
A photo had surfaced—an amateur shot taken from outside the port's perimeter. The image, sent anonymously to a hero forum, showed several shadowy figures moving cargo late at night—on the very same evening that the guard claimed nothing had happened. It wasn't high-quality, but it was enough to confirm some activity was going on.
Mewtwo leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. Either the guard had missed something... or he was deliberately hiding it.
"Not enough evidence. Just a few circumstantial hints—nothing solid enough for the police or a regular hero to step in," Raiden muttered, his eyes scanning the screen in front of him.
"Now I understand why they sent me to investigate. Still, this doesn't feel serious enough to involve a pro hero. They probably figured having an intern already working here was good enough."
He leaned back slightly, thoughtful.
The data suggested there had been unusual activity, but nothing that officially broke any laws—at least, not yet.
For now, all signs pointed to something happening after hours. He pulled up a list of the most prominent individuals and companies associated with the area. Most were mid-sized logistics and export businesses. The specific section of the port he needed to investigate was registered under a Japanese transport company based right here in the city.
Their operating hours officially ended at 6:00 p.m. Only under special circumstances—emergencies or urgent shipments—were they allowed to extend beyond that. Even then, working past 9:00 p.m. was strictly against protocol. Yet that's exactly when the reports flagged the suspicious activity.
Mewtwo narrowed his eyes. The conclusion was clear. He would need to return to the port later that night to carry out his investigation. No official entry could be made without concrete proof, but a quiet look around under the cover of darkness was another story.
"Should I do a bit of patrolling in the meantime?" he wondered aloud. "Might as well use it to train while I'm at it."
With nothing urgent scheduled before nightfall, he decided to take a short patrol route on his way to the port. He figured it'd be a good chance to ask a few questions to the workers and civilians near the area. His telepathy gave him an edge—he could ask something simple, even casual, and instantly tell if someone was hiding something.
A hesitation, a mental slip, a surface thought... it was often more revealing than a direct answer.
And if luck was on his side, maybe he'd run into a minor villain or two.
That would give him a chance to test some of the abilities he'd recently developed.
Raiden stood up from the desk and shifted into his combat form—Mewtwo. His physique expanded slightly, his tail unfurling with a subtle swish behind him. He grabbed his gear and secured it in place before stepping outside the Bureau building.
Once outside, he took to the skies with practiced ease, flying high above the rooftops toward the port.
The city spread out beneath him, a patchwork of lights and movement. He saw civilians going about their routines—no crimes, no disturbances. A few other heroes were already patrolling the streets below, maintaining order.
Seeing that everything seemed in check, Mewtwo accelerated through the air, a silent streak cutting across the evening sky. As he approached the industrial district, the city lights began to dim and the sounds shifted—less chatter, more mechanical hums, and the occasional echo of distant machinery.
He descended as he neared the port, slowing his flight until he was just floating above the concrete. Landing softly, he moved toward the entrance. The instant people saw him—clearly dressed as a hero—many of them paused what they were doing. Conversations quieted. A few whispered to each other, casting curious glances in his direction.
Suddenly, a guard approached Mewtwo as he stepped into the premises of the company.
The man was tall and solidly built, his athletic physique immediately noticeable—he looked stronger than some pro heroes.
His blonde hair was cut short and styled into uneven spikes, and he wore black tinted glasses that gave him a stern appearance. A scar ran down the left side of his face, cutting through otherwise sharp features.
It was clear to Mewtwo, even before speaking, that this man wasn't an average security guard. He was trained, and strong.
The kind of person who looked like he could hold his own in a fight—and probably had, more than once.
"Sir, this is a restricted area—even for heroes," the guard said firmly, stepping in front of him. "I'll have to ask you to leave the perimeter."
Mewtwo didn't respond aloud. Instead, he silently established a mental link, careful not to alert the man. Reading thoughts was one of his most reliable tools—subtle, effective, and nearly impossible to detect.
"I understand," Mewtwo replied calmly. "But I just have a few questions. I'm not here to interrupt anyone or cause trouble. I'd like to speak with the manager in charge—it's regarding a few routine reports. That's all."
It wasn't a lie. He didn't have enough cause to force his way in, but requesting a conversation was well within his rights. And if someone inside had nothing to hide, they shouldn't object.
The guard hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes behind those dark glasses.
"I see… in that case, I'll need your name so I can notify the manager," he said.
"Mewtwo, Hero-in-training." As he spoke, his license floated to his side, held aloft by a faint psychic glow.
The guard glanced at it.
The license was official—deep violet with silver accents, the standard for a hero license. Everything was in order.
The guard, now with no official reason to turn him away, gave a curt nod and returned to his post. He picked up a walkie-talkie and began speaking softly into it.
But Mewtwo wasn't listening with his ears.
He heard the guard's thoughts as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud:
"Fucking heroes. If it weren't for all these people around, I'd silence him myself. Why do they always show up where they're not needed?"
The words weren't direct evidence, but they were far from innocent. Mewtwo didn't need more to raise his internal alarms. That kind of hostility, especially the way it was phrased, wasn't normal for a civilian.
And the word silence—that wasn't just frustration. That was a threat.
He didn't act. Not yet. But now, he was watching the man closely.
Something was definitely off. The guard might not be the only one involved, but he was clearly connected to whatever was going on behind those walls. And Mewtwo planned to find out exactly what.
After finishing the call, the guard signaled Mewtwo to follow.
As they walked through the facility, Mewtwo took the opportunity to quietly observe his surroundings, scanning for anything that might seem out of place.
What struck him as odd wasn't the setting itself, but the people. Most of the workers barely noticed him—or didn't care that a hero had entered the building. Only a few seemed uncomfortable or bothered by his presence. That, in itself, was strange.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination—a massive warehouse. The size of it was impressive.
Inside, towering shelves lined the walls, and stacks of industrial containers filled the space.
Mewtwo floated a few inches off the ground as he entered.
The place was bustling with activity. Workers moved with efficiency, transporting packages of all kinds—everything from electronics of various brands to crates filled with toys.
Some employees were loading boxes onto trucks, others were organizing items on shelves or operating heavy machinery to move containers outside.
The guard led him toward the back of the warehouse, where a set of stairs rose to a small structure of glass-paneled offices overlooking the work floor. Clearly, this was where the managerial operations were handled. Once they reached the top, the guard opened the door to one of the offices, gestured Mewtwo inside, and then left without a word.
Inside, the manager stood with his back to the door, hands behind his back as he observed the workers below. Mewtwo moved into the room silently, studying the man's posture.
The manager turned around with a practiced smile and extended a hand.
"Louis Riddley. Pleasure to meet you," he said warmly. "I'm the manager of this facility. Goto let us know you were coming. Is there a problem, sir?"
"Pleasure's mine, Mr. Riddley. I'm Mewtwo," he responded, taking the man's hand. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Some reports came in about suspicious activity at the port during late-night hours. I've been assigned to follow up and ensure everything's in order. Just routine—making sure the port's is okay."
While shaking hands, Mewtwo quietly extended his telepathic abilities, skimming the surface of Riddley's thoughts. The manager's expression remained calm and friendly, but his mind was a different story.
"Oh, the heroes think someone's misusing our facility?" Louis replied, keeping his tone even. "Well, truth is we've fallen a bit behind schedule. We've had to bring in extra workers on night shifts. But everything's by the book. Give me a moment—I'll show you the documentation."
He turned to his desk, opening a drawer as if retrieving files, but his thoughts betrayed his true state:
Why are they here? Who tipped them off? Who has enough time to report a transport company just for working late? Hopefully, the paperwork is enough to cover this. If I show him something solid, he'll leave. It's just routine, after all…
But something else flickered in the man's mind—another voice, another layer of thought. Mewtwo caught the fragments clearly. It wasn't just nervousness. He was tryng to hide something here.
Mewtwo's conclusion was swift and certain. Riddley was involved. And whatever was happening here, it wasn't just a delay in their work.
He would have to return—late at night..