The Neo Heroes takeover of City Z was executed with terrifying efficiency.
Within an hour of the broadcast, black-armored troops had secured key intersections. Drone swarms patrolled the airspace. The local police were "relieved of duty" at gunpoint. It didn't look like a protection detail; it looked like an occupation.
In the Neo Heroes command ship hovering above the city, Webigaza stood next to McCoy.
"Sector 4 secure," she reported. "Civilians are compliant. Public approval ratings for the takeover are at 65%. Fear is effective marketing."
McCoy swirled his brandy. "And the Anomalies?"
"Saitama, Genos, and the unknown clone are contained within the residential ruins of Sector Ghost. We have established a perimeter."
"Do not engage," McCoy ordered. "If we attack Saitama, we lose the PR war. Let him stew. Let him realize that being strong means nothing if you don't control the system. Starve him out. Cut the power. Cut the water. Block the food deliveries."
He smiled cruelly. "Let's see how 'God-like' he feels when he runs out of toilet paper."
Back in the apartment, the toilet paper situation was indeed becoming critical, but that was the least of their worries.
Fubuki was coordinating a resistance network from Saitama's kitchen table. Her phones—all three of them—were buzzing constantly.
"Eyelashes, do not engage the drones! Go underground! Use the sewer tunnels!" She hung up and looked at the group. "They've blockaded the district. We're cut off."
"We can just leave," Saitama said, looking out the window at a Neo Hero drone that was scanning his balcony. "I can jump over the ships."
"And go where?" Fubuki asked. "They've declared martial law in five cities. If you leave, you're a fugitive. Your assets frozen. Your license revoked."
"Revoked?" Saitama paled. "But... I just got S-Class!"
"Focus, Sensei," Genos said. "This is a siege. They intend to demoralize us through resource deprivation."
Suddenly, a knock at the "door" (which was now a piece of plywood Shadow-san had painted black).
"Pizza delivery?" Saitama asked hopefully.
"No."
The voice from outside was strained. Weak.
Shadow-san moved instantly, a darker blur than the shadows themselves. He peered through a crack in the wood.
"It's a combatant," he whispered. "But he's unarmed. And injured."
Saitama pushed the plywood aside.
Forte stumbled in. He was still in his hospital gown, barefoot, clutching a heavy metal box. He looked like he had run a marathon through a minefield.
"You..." Forte gasped, collapsing onto the floor.
Genos scanned him. "Subject identified: Forte. Neo Hero defector. Multiple lacerations. Severe exhaustion. He is carrying... a jamming device."
Forte held up the box. "I blocked... their trackers... to get here." He coughed, looking up at Saitama. "They're recalling everyone. Implanting them. The updates... they rewrite your brain. I saw Axel... he isn't Axel anymore. He's just code."
Saitama crouched down. "You okay, rhythm guy?"
"I brought... this," Forte pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his gown pocket. "Blueprints. For the dropships. They have a weakness. A thermal exhaust port... main reactor..."
"Classic," Saitama nodded sagely. "Like the Death Star."
"Who?" Forte blinked. "No. It's a flaw in the cooling vent. If you hit it... the ship loses power. It doesn't explode. It just lands."
"Why bring this to us?" Fubuki asked, suspicious.
Forte looked at Saitama. "Because he broke my suit without killing me. In the Neo Heroes... weakness is a death sentence. Here... maybe it's not."
Fubuki looked at the map. Then at the hovering fortress outside. A plan formed. A dangerous, stupid, desperate plan.
"If we can ground the flagship," she murmured. "We can hijack their broadcast frequency. We can show the world what they're really doing. But we need someone to get close enough without triggering the sensors."
Everyone looked at Saitama.
"I'm too loud," Saitama said, remembering the void creature. "Apparently my 'existence' sets off alarms."
"Not you," Fubuki said. She turned her gaze to the corner of the room.
Shadow-san froze.
"Me?" he pointed a grey finger at himself. "I am a ghost. I don't fight anymore."
"You're the only one who can slip past their sensors," Fubuki pressed. "Your energy signature... it's negative. To their scanners, you register as empty space. You can walk right up to that exhaust port."
Shadow-san shook his head violently, his orange wig flopping. "No. I told you. I can't trust myself. What if I lose control? What if the darkness takes over?"
Saitama stood up. He walked over to his terrified clone.
"Hey," he said. "You like beef?"
"What?" Shadow-san blinked.
"The beef last night. It was good, right?"
"Yes..."
"Then fight for the beef," Saitama said simply. "These guys blockaded the city. That means no meat trucks. No sales. If you don't help us ground that ship, we're gonna be eating my old ramen packets for a month."
He put a hand on Shadow-san's shoulder. It was heavy. Reassuring.
"And if you lose control," Saitama added, "I'll just flick you again. Don't worry about it."
Shadow-san stared at him. In his world, leaders gave speeches about honor and sacrifice. Saitama gave speeches about grocery logistics and concussive cranial recalibration.
It was... liberating.
"Fine," Shadow-san whispered. He ripped off the orange wig. "For the beef."
Operation: Discount Dinner was a go.
Step 1: Distraction.
Saitama stood on the roof of his building. He waved his arms.
"HEY! TIN CANS! OVER HERE!"
The Neo Hero flagship turned its massive cannons toward him.
"Target acquired," a drone announced. "Deploying containment foam."
Step 2: Chaos.
Genos and Fubuki launched an assault on the drone swarm. Fubuki tore them from the sky with telekinesis, flinging them into each other. Genos sniped them with pinpoint laser blasts. It was a dazzling light show meant to draw every eye and sensor upward.
Step 3: Infiltration.
Below the chaos, a shadow moved across the rooftops. Shadow-san didn't run; he flowed. He poured himself from one patch of darkness to another. The Neo Hero scanners swept over him, reading nothing but ambient temperature and background radiation.
He reached the landing gear of the flagship, which hovered just above the tallest skyscraper. He climbed the hull, his fingers sinking into the metal like it was mud.
He found the vent. It was small, shielded by a spinning fan blade.
Use the force, Shadow-san thought, remembering a movie he'd seen in a dead world's Blockbuster ruins. No. Use the void.
He extended his hand. His black energy didn't blast the fan; it corroded it. The metal rusted and crumbled into dust in seconds.
He was in.
He crawled through the ductwork, guided by Forte's map. He could feel the hum of the reactor ahead. It pulsed like a giant, artificial heart.
He dropped into the reactor room. Two guards stood watch.
They turned, raising rifles.
Shadow-san didn't punch them. He expanded his aura. The darkness flooded the room, snuffing out the lights. The guards screamed as they were enveloped in a cold so deep it numbed their bones. They dropped unconscious before they hit the floor.
Shadow-san stood before the reactor core. It was glowing blue, massive and intricate.
Destroy it, a voice in his head whispered. The voice of his dimension's despair. Blow it up. Watch them burn.
Shadow-san's hand trembled. The black energy surged, wanting to explode.
"No," he muttered. "Saitama said land it. Not crash it."
He focused. He recalled the taste of hot pot. The stupid wig. The hole in the wall.
He didn't unleash the blast. He carefully, surgically, crushed the cooling regulator pipe with his grip.
HISSSSSSSS.
Steam erupted. Alarms blared.
REACTOR OVERHEAT. EMERGENCY LANDING PROTOCOL INITIATED.
The ship groaned. The artificial gravity fluctuated.
Shadow-san smiled. "Bon appétit."
Outside, the flagship began to descend. Slowly, gracefully, it lowered itself onto the main plaza of City Z, crushing a decorative fountain and several park benches.
"It's down!" Fubuki yelled into her radio. "Boarding team, go!"
Zombieman, who had been waiting in the sewers (again), popped out of a manhole cover right next to the ship's loading ramp. He led a squad of Blizzard Group members, all armed with stun batons.
They stormed the ship.
The resistance was minimal. Most of the Neo Hero crew was confused, dealing with system failures. The S-Class heroes on board—Superalloy Darkshine and Metal Bat—who had been forcibly "recruited" but not yet chipped, saw their chance.
Metal Bat grabbed his bat. "About time! I was getting sick of these matching uniforms!" He smashed a control console. "Fighting Spirit!"
Within twenty minutes, the ship was secure. McCoy had locked himself in the bridge, but Zombieman simply picked the lock (by blowing it up with a hidden grenade).
In the bridge, Fubuki hijacked the broadcast system.
"People of the world," she said into the camera, looking fierce and composed. "This is Blizzard of Hell, acting liaison for the S-Class. The footage you saw of hero riots was fabricated. The Neo Heroes are compromising human minds."
She played the data from Forte's suit. She showed the schematics of the control chips.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Social media exploded. The stock market crashed (Neo Heroes stock specifically).
But amidst the victory, something was happening on the roof of the grounded ship.
Saitama landed there to check on Shadow-san.
Shadow-san was sitting on the edge of the hull, looking at his hands. They were fading. Turning transparent.
"Hey," Saitama said. "You did good. Beef for dinner?"
Shadow-san shook his head sadly. "I can't stay, Saitama."
He held up his hand. The world through it was visible.
"Closing the reactor leak... it burned through my stability anchor. My dimension is calling me back. The resonance is ending."
"Can't we fix it?" Saitama asked. "Dr. Kuseno has tape. Really strong tape."
Shadow-san laughed. A genuine laugh this time. "No. It's okay. I saw a world where we won. Where I won. That's enough."
He stood up. The black energy peeled off him, dissipating into the air. Underneath, his face looked less bruised. More peaceful.
"You know," Shadow-san said, looking at the city lights. "You're right. Being strong is boring. But having friends to be bored with... that's not bad."
He began to dissolve into mist.
"Hey, Saitama."
"Yeah?"
"Don't lose your hair over the rent. It's just money."
"I already lost the hair," Saitama pointed out.
"Right." Shadow-san grinned. "Goodbye, Original."
With a final flicker of shadow, he vanished. The cool evening breeze blew through the empty space where he had stood.
Saitama stood there for a moment, looking at the empty spot. He felt a twinge of something. Sadness? Maybe. It was like finishing a good manga series. You knew it had to end, but you kinda wished there were a few more chapters.
"Goodbye, Copy," he whispered.
Below, Fubuki looked up at the roof. She saw Saitama standing alone. She felt the shift in the air. The clone was gone.
She climbed up the ladder to the roof.
"He's gone?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," Saitama said. "Went home."
"He was a hero," Fubuki said. "In the end."
"I guess." Saitama scratched his head. "Hey, since we captured their ship... do you think they have a kitchen on board? I'm really hungry."
Fubuki stared at him, then burst out laughing. The tension of the siege, the fear of the takeover, it all washed away in the absurdity of his appetite.
"Yes," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Come on. Let's raid the Neo Hero pantry."
As they walked towards the hatch, a new notification popped up on the global hero registry.
NEW ENTRY
RANK UPDATE
CLASS S, RANK 17: THE FINAL FORTRESS (SAITAMA)
NOTE: UPGRADED DUE TO SUCCESSFUL NEUTRALIZATION OF NEO HERO FLEET.
Saitama stopped. "Rank 17? That's it? I beat a whole fleet!"
"Baby steps, Saitama," Fubuki grinned. "Baby steps."