A Most Unlikely Hero Volume 1 (Sample)

Prologue: Being a Hero is Hard Work

Strobe lights flashed, overwhelming Alex's visual perceptions. The repugnant odor from dozens of unwashed bodies invaded his olfactory senses, making him want to gag. Meanwhile, the booth that he sat in was covered in grime, which he could feel even through his cloak.

The dive that he found himself in was located in the lower part of Mars City, which, like most bars of the lower city, contained humanity's filth. Decadent slobs that didn't know the words "common decency" covered every nook and cranny. He didn't know what was worse: The shadiness of the people present, or how those people gawked at the half-naked women dancing around poles on a stage in the center of the room.

Glancing at one of those women out of the corner of his eye, Alex cringed with guilt. Every time he saw those women, dancing there half-naked, with their breasts jiggling around, he felt ashamed of himself. The problem, he concluded, was because the sight aroused him. He hated himself for feeling that way.

To get his mind off of the sight, Alex tapped a few buttons on his wristband. A holographic image appeared in the air. It was of a man with pale skin, red eyes, spiky hair, pointy ears, and a large scar running down the left side of his face. His name was Andre Killick. He was the leader of a gang that called themselves the Black Panthers.

Who names their gang after a mammalian animal from Earth? And aren't jaguars the ones that are supposed to be black?

Regardless of how dumb the name was, this man and his gang were not to be underestimated. A group that was as violent as they came, rumor had it that they were involved in all manner of illicit activities. This included drug smuggling, slave trading, and even assassination...

... Of course, these were all rumors that had been spread by the gang members themselves, who were, according to reports, boisterous and idiotic. Intelligence claimed that they were nothing but petty crooks who liked to vandalize other people's property.

Alex, as a cadet training to become a member of the Interstellar Police Force, had been dispatched to ascertain the location of this criminal. Andre's last sighting had been at this bar.

I can't believe they're making me do this. Everyone knows I'm no good at stakeouts.

That hadn't stopped them from giving him this assignment. He would've liked to have something else, like busting up a criminal organization or rescuing a bunch of hostages from a terrorist cell. It was too bad that cadets like him weren't given anything more dangerous than this.

I guess it can't be helped.

He turned off the hologram and looked up, searching the bar again-and doing his best to ignore the half-naked women. Was the man they sought still here? If Andre was smart, then he would've already left. Surely even a petty gang leader was intelligent enough to realize that the IPF wouldn't put up with his criminal activities forever.

Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, a figure emerged from the stairwell on the opposite side of the room. Pale skin. Spiky black hair. A scar running down his cheek. Pointy ears. Red eyes. He wore red leather pants and a jacket of the same color. It was Andre.

... This man is an idiot.

Putting a finger to his ear, Alex activated his headset. "This is Alexander S. Ryker, ID 22B614V, reporting. I've spotted the target."

"Roger that," a female voice said from the other end. "Remember, your job is only to watch him. Don't try to apprehend him on your own-and for the love of Mars, don't do something that'll blow your cover!"

"I know that," Alex groused. "I'm not new to this, Commander. I know how to do my job."

"Your track record says otherwise," came the dry response.