Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong

The unlucky grade C duo were unconscious after being struck the second time. Their caved in chest had not seen any improvements even after their regen abilities are doing their best to recover its former shape. Who'd have thought their enemy was sinister enough to actually sneak a final blow in?

The Hound smelled the two grunts laying around before typing a text in his phone that read: x3nd h3Lp. 2 guyz K0d.

The fuck is that text?

He pressed send and smelled those guys again. "What…" suddenly chills ran down his spine, as he saw the two suddenly spurting a fountain of blood and convulsing. This time, he forgot that he's supposed to use his sense of smell again before doing anything else, and put down one of the two into the pavement. Then he pressed his ears into the depressed area of his chest where the heart is supposed to be.

No heartbeat.

He tried it on the other one strewn helplessly in the car's broken windshield.

No heartbeat.

"Fuck!" He howled mournfully as the death of his two comrades were confirmed. He checked the eyes, and surely enough, it was all white. He checked the pulse in a desperate manner, but also to no avail. The Hound looked like a mournful alpha dog that lost a part of its harem. He sent a message to the same number again that read: "fk it rip 2 grade Cs… im s0rry i Cnt sv em,,, gunna g aftr d kiLLer."

Why do I have to deal with translating this guy's text messages?

On the receiving end of the message, the scent of smoked ham is overpowering the blockaded road where our main character first appeared. "Director, did that dog send you another of his cryptic texts?" Second in command Peter is struggling to hold his laughter in at the sight of his superior's bulging veins at the temple. The Director's face is now more hideous than it was before after seeing the second straight annoying text he can't understand.

"That Hound is so great a tracker but why can't he even send a text properly! How does he think we can understand this? I'm not a teenager!" He felt his scars itch as he growled, intensifying the already burning smell of smoked ham.

"Lemme have a look at it. You know I can understand his dumb texts." Peter rushed to his side and grabbed his phone like a girlfriend taking his boyfriend's cheating phone away.

"Can you please… just tell that idiot to send his texts to you? Looking at his texts make me a few decades older!" Director Hong just can't take anymore of Hound's bullshit.

"Yeah, yeah…" He took a look at his boss' phone and casually narrated what the Hound's meaning to say. "First text read, 'two guys knocked out, send help.' Easy enough."

"The next one, is a little more complicated. 'Fuck it, rest in peace for two grade C Supers… I'm sorry I can't save them. I'm gonna go after that killer.'" Peter ended with a smile that says 'I am really awesome.'

"Hmph. Of course I know what it meant. I just want to make sure you know too." Who'd know the big boss is a sore loser.

Why are these two idling around like idiots? No they aren't idling around like idiots, they're actually trying to trace whatever data they have. These two are bosses because they are really capable, believe me. Director Hong knew that Hound won't message him as long as he hasn't found his target. They flew en route to Fourth Street after the quick exchange. Especially now that they knew C-rankers were just sandbag dummies for him, they flew off even faster.

***

Our main character that is still unnamed up to this point, has already scampered away into a busy marketplace about a kilometer away from his tenement. He knows he's being tailed by the Alliance Number One Tracker, but he also knows that even the best trackers can only react, so he can be proactive in his attempts to escape.

'Heh, I'm gonna ask you out next time Lady Luck! Thanks for this!' This bastard smugly smiled as he took cover underneath a big street food stall. He's thanking his lucky stars for this sudden downpour that can wash away his already untraceable odorless scent. This can already be considered a big win for him against the Hound.

He popped into his mouth a few pieces of piping hot calamari dipped in spicy vinegar sauce, along with some kikiam. While munching on it, he scooted over to the side where the brother of the fried food stall owner is grilling and ordered several skewers of chicken intestines, pork ears, and chicken feet.

He doesn't even care about escape anymore! I don't get you! Just because it's already raining, and you're a few streets away doesn't mean you've escaped!

"Oh Brother Juan, your calamari is still as awesome as ever eh? I feel like I'm an enlightened sage that's about to ascend the heavens every time I eat these!" Of course, he's chewing while spewing this patronizing bullshit of his.

The things we do to get free food.

"Shut your trap! I know you just don't wanna pay again! Brother, what do we do with him!" Younger brother Juan dismissed his shameless advances, while passing the headache to his elder brother John.

"Do you want this guy to pester us with his dumb stories for hours? If you want, then go ahead, make him pay. I don't, so here you go, your favorite chicken feet, pork intestines, and ears." With eyes that are filled with boundless wisdom from all the bullshit our dumb MC must've put him through, John gave his brother a helpful advice.

"I'm really disappointed with you, John. We're friends here… I thought you loved those stories of my old adventures!" This guy actually had the gall to scold the guy that gave him free meals?

"Old adventures my ass! Look at you! I look more of a Superhuman than you! Your stories are like a snobby teenager's wet dreams!" John retorted with a mocking expression while flipping skewers of meat.

"See, young Juan, your brother has gone senile. He can't differentiate what's real and fantasy anymore." I have no words. This guy had already eaten six skewers of assorted chicken and pig parts from the guy he's mocking and yet he still won't stop. He grabbed a few more freshly cooked calamari on Juan's side and then put three skewers of chicken blood on John's grill like he owns the place.

"Lemme ask you bro, when have you last eaten?" Juan is about to explode since he's losing his profits so he finally asked the most important question.

"Yesterday." The one word answer left the two stunned.

"You really haven't changed, you bastard, still doing whatever the fuck you want." Older brother John smiled while shaking his head.

The rain continued to pour. The frying younger bro, and the grilling elder bro continued their day's work while their longtime friend steals food in the middle of them from time to time.

I guess this is a good time for some dumb backstory.

"Let me narrate my own backstory!" The good-for-nothing MC suddenly said a fourth wall breaking comment. The brothers suddenly turned to look at him with a curious glare like they're saying, 'who the fuck is that guy talking to!'