Martial Arts Master

“Joseph?”

The name instantly brought him back to the afternoon when he “communicated” with that gem. The same viscous and fetid stream of blood that reeked of evil and cruelty.

Martial Artist Johnny Joseph was the one who crafted the gemstone using his own spirituality. The tainted spirituality within the stone seemed to have stemmed from his inner negativity, or an overtime result of his emotions going berserk.

Lou Cheng was excited at the find. He began investigating the reason behind Joseph being listed as a suspect.

“Bloodstains from a missing girl, Taylor, was once discovered in the woods near his mansion… His ex-wife proclaimed that he was a Satanist who kept cultist books such as “The Untainted Soul of a Maiden”… Another witness, boyfriend of the victim Sunny, testified that he had seen a shadow that possibly belonged to Joseph near the place where she’d vanished. However, there wasn’t enough supporting evidence since the security camera broke down…”

Reading down, Lou Cheng realised that none of the evidence could incriminate Joseph, or even hold enough water to instigate a proper investigation on him. He was, however, fairly certain that Joseph did it when he factored in the abnormalities of the sapphire.

…

Inside a plain-looking sedan parked at the corner the street, a young man wearing a baseball cap was hammering away at the keyboard.

“Captain, he’s looking up notorious criminals and their case files,” he muttered.

Smith paused. Taking the laptop from his subordinate’s hands, he slid his index finger across the screen, reviewing the contents Lou Cheng’s read.

What’s this, a feedback from the internet provider?

“What is he trying to do? Play superhero?” asked Baseball Cap.

Smith stayed silent.

“It’s probably the thing those Chinese martial artists love doing. In Chinese they call it ‘Qie’, ‘Cuo’.” (Sparring against someone)”

He pronounced it pretty badly. It was a word he picked up during his research the past few days. “It’s like how martial artists here challenge each other all the time.” he added.

“I think I get it. He’s looking for a way to issue challenges that wouldn’t get him deported,” said dude in baseball cap. “Captain, you have to give him a warning before things get out of hand.”

Smith nodded ever so slightly. Without another word, he passed the laptop back to his subordinate and pointed outside.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab some coffee. Coffee for you?”

“I’ll pass. Can I have a can of Coke instead?” said dude in baseball cap, beaming.

After getting out of the car, Smith found his way to a store, where he bought a steaming cup of black coffee. He then took a lift to the top floor and entered the rooftop, stationing himself on its edge. Silently, he looked down at the building opposite him.

Not a tall building— the Msasi Martial Arts Gym.

Before long, the rooftop door was pushed open. A middle-aged man with grey hair walked in with a bag of stuff in his hands. Cole. He looked tired and aloof.

“Smith…” Cole paused. Sighed. “You are here again…”

Smith upended the remaining cup of cold coffee. He gave a bitter smile.

“Hey, Uncle Cole. How’re things going?”

“Same shit. No luck awakening my Own Spirit. No luck becoming Joseph’s martial arts disciple either.” He took out a can of beer as he spoke, popped it open, and gulped. The pale yellow liquor streaked along his stubbled chin— a greyish mess he forgot to shave— and dripped onto the floor, splattering into smaller drops.

Smith moved his lips, but he couldn’t find any words. He crumpled the cup into a ball, then turned and left the rooftop.

He went to the supermarket, bought a can of coke, and when he handed it to his subordinate he asked him to go home and get some rest before his next shift. Then he reassigned the other members of the squad to other tasks.

…

After lengthy research, Lou Cheng laughed. A laugh of self-derision. He got too into it.

Sure, he was fairly certain that Martial Artist Johnny Joseph was indeed the “Butcher”— the criminal with 10 years of crime history. He had no scruples about paying him a “visit” to eliminate him. But, the problem is, without solid evidence, the aftermath could get really ugly. He was up against an experienced mighty one with a high social standing after all.

That being said, he could end up as the “criminal” if he wasn’t careful; in a foreign land with little resources at his disposal, even in the best of scenarios, he would no doubt be deported and banned from America for the rest of his life. That was the crux of his dilemma.

What if I ask the military? I’m sure they have eyes in America…

But what should I say?

In a split second, he had came up with the most likely scenario.

“I’m gonna have to take down Johnny Joseph. I need information.”

“Why? Who is this guy?”

“He’s a twisted psychopath of a criminal. He might endanger my wife.”

“Okay… Does he know your wife personally?”

“No.”

“He must be targeting your wife then?”

“No.”

“…Then why does it concern you?”

“Well, you know. There’s always that, um, slight possibility that he might endanger my wife. Better safe than sorry, that’s my motto.”

“… I’m sorry, but I’m not following.”

The simulation made Lou Cheng shake his head in self-derision. He put the thought of visiting the Butcher aside.

It seemed like Joseph only targeted young girls, so university students were out of his radar. Not to mention Ke was only one out of millions of female university students…

Certainly, the likes of him deserve to rot in hell, and my sense of justice is calling out to me, but sometimes you have to consider the reality.

He finished the last swig of his iced latte. Seeing that it was still early, he decided to spend an hour on self practice in the Msasi Martial Arts Gym.

My powers have internalized after becoming an Inhuman, so it wouldn’t decrease even if I trained less, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to slack off.

My goals never ended with becoming an Inhuman!

Okay, maybe that was my goal in the past, but that is not the point here…

He grabbed his phone and left the cafe. Just as he was about be on his way, a sedan slowly pulled up beside him.

“Nice to meet you, Lou,” the driver greeted with a smile.

Who’s this? Dumbfounded, Lou Cheng looked over. The youthful and cheery face before him seemed familiar.

Though to him most foreigners looked similar…

“You asked me for directions yesterday,” reminded Smith.

“Oh, it’s you,” remembered Lou Cheng. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

In that moment, his hair shot up and made him look like a monster that was ready to strike. His spontaneous reaction made Smith shudder. He came pretty close to abandoning his car and making a run for it.

He inhaled deeply, keeping his smile on as he fished out his identification.

“Smith, Department of Homeland Security. I was tasked to monitor your activities in Connecticut,” he explained.

To be clear, he wasn’t breaking any protocols. In similar cases dealing with Chinese Martial Artists, he was allowed to communicate with the target— let them know that they were being closely watched. It was an effective preventive measure to reduce cases of violence.

The surveillance, however, wouldn’t go down after communicating with the target, in order to detect and deny any threats in time.

This was actually how experienced agents usually handled such cases, but being green and intrepid, Smith chose to watch from the shadows.

Lou Cheng was stunned for a moment, but felt more assured when he saw his silhouette in the footage being played on the computer screen.

“Can I verify your identification number?” he requested.

Smith twitched his mouth, as if he was mouthing the words “can we have some basic trust here”.

“Sure,” he assented in a low voice, maintaining his expression.

Lou Cheng googled the method to verify an identification and passed him with a nod.

“Mr Smith, what’s your business with me?”

Based on what he heard before and his own deductions, he already knew that Martial Artists of his league would be monitored once they entered America. That was what kept them in control and prevented them from going around looking for fights. He felt relieved now that he finally met the head of the special service monitoring him.

“We’ll talk in the car, Lou,” said Smith. He lifted the laptop and gestured at the front passenger seat.

Emboldened by his skills and having done nothing wrong, Lou Cheng immediately pulled the car door open and hopped in, fastening his own seatbelt while he was at it.

The insignificant action stunned Smith and filled him with wonder.

Does this monster even need a seatbelt?

But he didn’t let it show. He started up the car and drove towards another district.

“So, I noticed that you were looking up on the infamous criminals of Connecticut, Lou. I can only assume that you wish to Qie Cuo with them.”

Ah, so that’s the reason behind all this. It all made sense to Lou Cheng now.

“I merely did it on a whim. I swear I won’t do anything, I’m just your average law-abiding citizen.”

Smith ignored him and went on.

“Actually, we have got more evidence on Joseph than what we disclosed. The problem is, the evidence wouldn’t connect, and with his status and connections— many among which are politicians, lawyers and experienced martial artists— we couldn’t obtain a search warrant…”

“According to the Geruga Sect, Sunny was a girl with exceptional spirituality. After she went missing, her father “felt” the remnants of her cries and screams near Joseph’s mansion, which led us to believe that the crime was committed inside the mansion. The evidence is buried in there somewhere. If they allowed us to comb the area, we could have easily uncovered the evidence and put Joseph behind bars!”

“But no one listened. For five years we tried. Some superheroes who attempted to infiltrate the place got caught and sent to to jail… In recent years, Joseph always made his students guard his mansion whenever he left home, and also installed all kinds of high-tech surveillance and alarm systems. The superheroes and detectives have rarely stuck their nose inside again.”

Lou Cheng listened pensively, then nodded slowly .

“So, you want me to pay a ‘visit’ to Joseph, challenge him, then knock him out cold for you to search the place for evidence,” he concluded.

“That’s about it,” rasped Smith.

“And how do I know you wouldn’t turn on me? Or throw me under the bus when the deed is done? Also, why does this concern the Department of Homeland Security?” questioned Lou Cheng. He wasn’t gullible enough to readily buy into a stranger’s story.

Of course, things will go smoothly if you find the evidence, but what if you can’t?

They might very well be using him as a disposable pawn.

Smith tilted his head and looked at Lou Cheng. Pain and sorrow leaked out from his deeply-sunken eyes.

“I will take care of the alarm system. If we can’t find any evidence, as long as you have a disguise on and don’t injure Joseph too badly, I can cover the whole thing up as a ‘regular assault case committed by an unidentified superhero’. Suspects: none,” he assured.

He inhaled.

“When you went through those articles, I believe you saw the picture of Sunny and her boyfriend. The man from those interviews.”

It all came to Lou Cheng at once— the image of the blonde girl’s boyfriend fit perfectly with the head of the agent before him.

Deducing from the time it happened, that must be the reason behind Smith joining the forces…

The wariness within Lou Cheng shed away. He began to believe what Smith was saying.

Smith looked into the distance.

“Look, I know this must be a tough decision for you. Smith is also a danger grade monster like you, so there’s a chance you might not win, not to mention you have to defeat him without badly injuring him…”

Before he could finish, he caught a glimpse of Lou Cheng with his head hung low, calm and collected as he studied a video— a footage of Joseph’s fight from the year before.