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“Did you hear? Another heart was stolen by the Phantom Thief!”
“Kyaaa! It’s just so romantic, isn’t it? Did they catch a photo of him this time?”
“No, but someone near the station saw a flash of him run by! The description is just like all the others.”
“He sounds so hot!”
Goro rubs his temples, trying to work out the headache growing from the chittering of high school gossip on the morning commuter train. That Phantom Thief… some vigilante punk who showed up a few months ago, doing away with criminals in some mysterious way the police still haven’t figured out. Goro’s been on the case for just a couple weeks now, and since then, two criminals have been left at the police station, dazed and all but begging to confess to their crimes, each with a calling card pinned to their chest. It’s frustrating because no one has figured out his methods, how he learns their crimes, how he makes them so happy to confess. The calling cards say he steals their hearts, but they’re written with such flowery nonsense that it’s probably just a terrible metaphor. And they don’t act coerced – they act like they’ve seen the wrathful face of God and are throwing themselves at His mercy. It’s an infuriating puzzle, and one Goro particularly wants to solve because the Phantom Thief is undoing all his work.
Every time he goes on a mission to corrupt the masses for his master, the accursed Phantom Thief appears and somehow, not only reverses his own spell, but turns would-be villains into penitents. He must have power similar to Goro’s, although that’s obviously not something he can mention to the police, with whom he is undercover.
All he can do is continue this game of cat-and-mouse: playing the polite, goodie-two-shoes detective by day, transforming into Black Mask by night and using his Call of Chaos on his designated targets.
Except, this night, his master has sent him after a yakuza boss, with the intention of sowing chaos and disorder among the people, opening the demand for him to sweep into power and take over Tokyo (and the world!), with Goro finally finding a place of love and respect within his new world. All in a day’s work, right? When he casts his Call of Chaos on the man, it twists him and his crime den into a cartoonish hellscape of his inner heart, just as expected. Except this time, the boss (now with an extra set of limbs, all four arms carrying even more ridiculous weapon than the last) swings on Goro before he can make his getaway. The massive force of a club crushing against his helmet almost sends him through a concrete wall – which is now distorted to be a circus tent for some reason and probably the reason he doesn’t die from the impact – and he slides to the floor, dazed.
Get up, he screams at himself. YOU made this Shadow! Don’t let it destroy you!
But he’s slow, disoriented. When he finally regains his feet, the Shadow Mobster (he looks like a ringleader, complete with top hat and red coat – is that really how he sees himself?) is already swinging a metal folding chair down towards him like it’s Wrestlemania. Goro doesn’t even like wrestling.
Then a hook buries itself in the ground between Goro and the beast, interrupting its attack.
Swearing, Goro dives between the canvas of the tent, hoping the instant of distraction will be enough to get away. He also wills himself back into his street clothes, the transformation washing off him like evaporating water. He hopes whoever interfered didn’t see his other form.
Now, he could just run. He could pull aside the tent fabric and return to the street like nothing had happened. After all, the distortions he causes aren’t visible to normal people. Only those with the power of Cognitive Psience can perceive them or the Shadows. Which means… whoever that was…
No way. It can’t be. He has to see. Holding his breath, he peeks behind the yellow and red striped canvas. Sure enough, a young man stands where the hook had buried itself, like he’d ziplined down the cable from somewhere high above. The man wears a long black coat, red gloves he’s waving in some intricate gesticulation as he spouts off some heroic nonsense that Goro’s not listening to, finally ending by striking a pose where he’s pulling down hard on a red glove, like that means anything. He catches the edges of a white mask over his eyes, below a mop of frizzy black hair.
It’s the Phantom Thief!
Cursing, Goro can’t escape now. This is the perfect opportunity to learn more about his foe, and perhaps even stop him once and for all!
The Thief and the Shadow tussle for a bit – the Thief prefers a knife as opposed to Goro’s long serraded sword – and indeed, he can use magic just like Goro can, although his is very different, more varied. He hates him instantly, his smooth fighting style, the ease of his skill, how good he looks in that suit.
Scratch that last one.
He’s got enough data for now, all he has to do is sneak away and…
“There you are!” A guttural voice cries out, and suddenly Goro’s knocked to the ground. Out of his transformation, he is fleshy and weak and the fall knocks the breath from him. The Shadow stomps towards him, raising a massive bell of all things, ready to crush him.
“Hey, I’m your enemy, here!” The Phantom Thief then leaps onto the Shadow’s back, straddling its shoulders. A high, tinny, childlike voice calls out from somewhere out of sight.
“Remember, Joker, you have to weaken it before you steal its heart!”
The Thief, now with the wholly unnecessary secondary moniker Joker, nods his acknowledgment. Then he pulls out a gun and shoots the Shadow right through the top of its head.
Somehow, amazingly, it doesn’t die, just howls in pain, staggering, almost throwing Joker off its shoulder.
“Now, Joker! Do it!”
Joker flips off the monster, landing in front of it, Goro squints and notices a strange, bright light shimmering in front of its chest. Joker reaches his hands through that glowing light, and when he pulls his hand back out, there’s an audible cracking sound, and Goro has to squint his eyes against the flash of white surrounding him. When his vision clears, he looks around, and the building is just a building. The gang member, who Goro had just a few minutes ago twisted in accordance to his master’s commands, now lies on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Joker pulls a card from his breast pocket and pins it to his lapel.
“Another job well done, Joker!” A small cat bounds into Goro’s eyeline, leaping into Joker’s arms.
“Thanks for your support as always, Mona,” Joker says, scratching behind his ears. Of all the strange things Goro has seen even in just the last few minutes, the talking cat startles him enough that he makes a noise. Joker’s eyes immediately find him in his hiding place, which is no longer a hiding place now that the circus tent has vanished. Joker straightens as their eyes lock. Goro’s jaw tightens. If he saw Goro’s transformed self earlier…
But there’s no sign of hostility behind Joker’s white domino mask, just a wide, smug smile. “Don’t be afraid,” he says with the confidence and bravado of a man who just shot a seven foot tall, four-armed monster in the head. “I’m the hero of justice, The Phantom Thief!”
Goro nearly rolls his eyes at the way he’s talking, like he’s seen one too many episodes of Featherman, But he has a job – two jobs, technically, which nicely complement each other.
“I’m aware,” Goro answers slowly, taking a few cautious steps forward. He’s not sure what kind of powers Joker has, what hidden talents he didn’t flash during that fight, and he doesn’t need them turned on him, “hero of justice” or no. “I’m Akechi Goro, a detective with the Tokyo Police Department.”
Joker’s grin grows even wider, if possible. “Oh? Aren’t you young to be a detective?”
He’s twenty-four, thank you very much, Joker doesn’t look much older than him. “Aren’t you young to be a Phantom Thief?”
That makes Joker laugh, the cat bristling in his arms. Goro raises an eyebrow at the creature, trying to stall so he can take another step closer. “Your cat doesn’t seem to like me much.”
The cat hisses. A decent display of ferocity, if Goro hadn’t just seen the thing talk. “He’s suspicious of all my friends at first.”
“Oh, we’re friends now?”
“Of course. We’re on the same side, after all, Detective.”
Intriguing. And so very, very wrong. “I’m afraid not, Thief.” Goro chides. Another step closer. He sees the long and wicked-looking knife hanging from Joker’s belt, and he knows he knows how to use it. In this form, Goro us unarmed, vulnerable. He hopes that plays to his advantage. “You’ve been causing us quite the headache. Maybe we can continue our conversation… some place a bit more private?” Joker’s eyes narrow to slits, and Goro realizes how that might have just sounded. “Would you mind coming down to the station with me?”
“As much as I would love to go on a date with you, Detective,” (Goro’s face burns and he forgets himself, taking one step back), “I’m afraid I have to decline. Ask me again next time, and make it more romantic.” Then, quick as lightening, Joker invades Goro’s personal space, planting a kiss upon his cheek, then fires his grappling hook over his shoulder and flies off into the distance, disappearing through an open window. Goro touches the burning mark on the side of his face, and can’t think of a thing to say.