Villain Retirement

Chapter 1190: Trying But Failing

"I know who you are, Detective."

"Dete…how did you know?"

Hank was about to tell a whole different story to Riley, but from how he was looking at him, it was clear that Riley definitely knew what he was. And Riley stared at him, perhaps for a few seconds, before he decided to move.

"It would be better if you do not start asking questions, Hank," he said before mounting the RV, "Live however you want to—this world is a big place, you do not need to be involved in the only thing you should not."

"Wait. Please, wait!" Hank quickly moved to block the RV, "What… does that even mean? And how did you know I was a detective?!"

"Bart told me, Hank."

"Bart…?"

"The bartender. His name is Bart," Riley shrugged as he started the RV. The loud rumble it created caused Hank to slightly back away. "He told everyone this morning that you were a detective."

"But… I didn't tell him I was a detective."

"Bart is very intuitive, Hank. Now, I would appreciate it if you would please move," Riley sighed, "I am following a strict regimen. The crops behind me need to be put in their proper storage, or their texture and taste would change."

"Wait—wait! I just need to ask some questions about some missing people!" Hank raised both his palms, his tone slightly getting frustrated, "I've asked around, and the people of this town all just say the same thing. And since you and your wife are the newest residents here, I thought you could offer some fresh insight."

Riley stared Hank in the eyes for a few intense seconds, causing the detective to gulp. But before he could say anything else, Riley told him to hop on the RV.

"Let us talk in the house, Hank." He said, "My wife is the one who knows everything that is happening in this town. She should be back in an hour or so. Meanwhile, perhaps you can help me unload all of this and put it in the storage?"

"Y-yeah. Sure!" Hank rolled his lips, chuckling as he hopped on the back of the RV. He already wanted to ask some questions, but the rumbling of the exhaust and the wind blowing on their faces didn't allow for that.

And so, the only thing he could do was enjoy the scenic view of the countryside. It was slightly dry, but it was better than the busy streets caged by buildings that even covered the sky.

"I think I know why you choose to live here," he whispered. But of course, Riley didn't answer him.

It took several minutes, but they finally arrived at Riley's place, and Hank immediately hopped off to help Riley unload the crates.

"Where do these go?" He asked.

"On the shed."

"Shed?" Hank looked around the property, and aside from their house, which already looked incredibly old, there were really only two other structures in the area—one was a barn that looked even more weathered than the house, and the last one was… well, something that looked like it didn't belong there.

It was a shed, but not a shed one would expect from an old farm like this. It was even bigger than the house, and looked like a garage one would find in the good parts of a big city.

"I'm assuming you had that built when you came into town?"

"Yes." Riley said as he passed him while carrying two crates on his shoulders, "It is state-of-the-art, Hank."

"...And you're selling your crops for… what?" Hank blinked a couple of times as he followed Riley to the shed, with the door even sliding open for them automatically. And as soon as they got inside, he immediately felt the temperature shift—the door behind him closed back down, and he couldn't see anything at first, but when it turned back on, he finally saw what state-of-the-art meant.

The inside of the shed looked even more out of place in the rural town.

"Whatever you're selling your crops for, they're not enough. I mean… what is this?"

"It is my shed, Hank," Riley shrugged as he motioned for Hank to follow him deeper into the shed, "Each of the shelves you see regulates different temperatures. The humidity, the light, the ventilation—everything is controlled."

"...I'm also assuming you didn't get the money for this from selling vegetables?"

"Is that part of your investigation, Hank?"

"N-no," Hank chuckled as he placed the crate he was holding on the shelf Riley pointed to him, "As I said, I'm here to find… people."

"You came to this town to find someone?" Riley asked as he started removing the crops and storing them in the shelves.

"Yes, and no," Hank sighed, "The thing is, the missing people all took this county road. This is actually the fourth town I've visited, and I still have more to go."

"Oh? I was not aware of any travellers missing, Hank. Nothing has been posted by the local police. Can you put the contents of that crate into that freezer?"

"That's because they went missing far from here," Hank sighed as he carried the crate he was holding to one of the freezers next to the wall, "104 people have gone missing in the past two years, all solo backpackers, and no one knows where they are."

"Two years? That is about the time we chose to live here, Hank."

"That is also the same time that weird-looking steampunk spaceship made contact with us."

"Oh? Do you think it has something to do with the disappearances?"

"If it does, then that is way above my paycheck. Megawoman also hasn't made a statement about the alien—what was its name, Evans?"

"I believe so, Hank."

"Huh. Well, anyway—and I'm not saying this to be morbid, but you and your wife would have probably also been on the missing person list if you didn't choose to stay here," Hank opened up the freezer, only to see it was already full, "Oh, this one's full."

"Try the next one."

"Have you ever met any travellers while living here?" Hank asked as he opened the other freezer, "I have some photos of the missing people. I can show it to you and your wife later, maybe you would recognize some of them."

"Okay. Do you have a photo of her, too, Hank?"

"Huh? What do you—" Hank focused his attention on where Riley was looking, only to see a body in the freezer in front of him,

"Oh… Fuck!"