One Punch-Gamer: Chains of Fate

*Prologue II*: Goodbye, Average Days

May 27th, 2026. Kawagoe, Saitama. An alley somewhere in the center, 22:35...

Gasping for breath under the small bit of moonlight that filtered through the tall buildings surrounding the area, the man looked around with wide eyes, cursing his luck as he turned another corner and desperately looked at his phone, wondering why in Hell's name had the GPS stopped working.

This wasn't supposed to happen; it should have been an easy thing. Sure, he was no big-time criminal or anything, but the 'art' and 'thrill' of making small thefts was something he had specialized in since he was young. When he had come to Kawagoe, a seemingly boring and peaceful town, he had thought it would be no different from the usual.

Of course, he had 'heard' the rumors, seen them online and as some small gossip in neighboring prefectures, but really, what else would he do but thinking they were just silly Urban Legends? The mere thought that such outrageous tales were anything but over-exaggerated fiction was beyond ridiculous...

And yet, here he was now, cold sweat running down his face as the distant sound of a bicycle's chirpy bell haunted him like the howls of war dogs coming for his head. At the same time, the vague sensation that someone was running after him never left his terrified mind.

Vigilantes. Fucking kids wearing honest-to-God cheap 'superhero costumes', going around fighting crime. And worst of all, instead of having died or gotten caught or gravely injured at some point, like common sense dictated should have happened, they had been successful and were still doing so without anyone stopping them (Or at least managing so).

And now, as he saw with horror as a figure atop a bicycle rounded the alley's corner some 500 meters behind him, he was paying the price for his confidence.

However, that did not mean he had resigned himself to the fate so many other petty criminals had suffered in that city and its surroundings. After all, while he was no professional bank robber or yakuza, the man had been perfecting the 'art' of pick-pocketing for a long time and had more than enough tricks to give the so-called 'Bicycle Girl' a run for her money.

The most obvious being that, while he obviously couldn't outrun a bicycle, he was more than able to jump over a nearby metallic fence almost without effort, use several trashcans as platforms and quickly hang from the side of a small window, throwing himself forward to grab the lowest point of a fire escape.

It spoke in his favor that he didn't stop to taunt the teenage vigilante with his finely developed parkour skills and instead he just kept running up the metallic stairs, a small grin on his face as he patted the several wallets he had secured on his backpack, none even open as he had been doing it solely for the thrill (Though he would obviously keep everything that was inside once he got to his safe house).

A blur of white at the other side of the street, in the opposite building's fire escape, informed him that the 'Caped Sidekick' had also found himself unable to follow, and a quick glance effectively confirmed for him that the caped boy with the scarf obscuring his lower face had stopped and was now just staring at him with narrowed eyes.

The man barely resisted the need to snort and instead turned away, quickly going up another set of stairs, having now almost reached the roof. Unless the helper of the more famous vigilante had the power to jump the 7 meters that separated the buildings, he would be unable to follow him in time.

With those thoughts in his mind, the long-time thrill-seeking thief reached the rooftop...and his world exploded with pain as something slammed painfully on his face, dead center on his forehead.