Chương 124: Chapter 117: The Free Food Ticket

The Schnee-sponsored luxury penthouse bathed in the sterile, unbothered sunlight of the Atlas afternoon. The expansive living room was impeccably clean, smelling faintly of citrus polish. Standing in the center of the room, wearing a casual, slightly wrinkled short-sleeved white shirt and red shorts, was Saitama. He held a microfiber cloth in one hand and a half-eaten banana in the other. He took a lazy bite of the fruit, his dotted eyes completely glazed over with a profound, soul-crushing boredom.

He had already spent days walking through the Diamond District. He had seen the glittering boutiques, the high-end Dust-weavers, and the pristine, multi-tiered supermarkets. But everything in Atlas was ridiculously overpriced, the sales were nonexistent, and the citizens walked around with an air of suffocating stiffness. On the massive flat-screen television mounted to the wall, the Mantle Daily news broadcast droned on.

Footage of freezing riots and burning trash cans looped endlessly, followed by a live interview of Robyn Hill fiercely defending the citizens of the lower city. Saitama let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. He swallowed his banana, completely tuning out the geopolitical crisis.

"Man, politics are so boring. It's the same thing in every universe." Saitama didn't care. He actively ignored the politics, focusing instead on wiping a non-existent smudge from the glass coffee table. Sitting on the plush velvet sofa, entirely ignoring the news broadcast as well, was Neopolitan. She was wearing a pink long-sleeved shirt, lazily scrolling through the local Atlas and Mantle public networks on her Scroll. Her heterochromic eyes suddenly paused.

Displayed on her screen was a bright, colorful, highly enthusiastic digital flyer for Robyn Hill's Election Night Rally in the lower city. Bold, flashing letters read: Victory Block Party! Free Entry, Live Music, and All-You-Can-Eat Premium Catering for All Citizens! Neo leaned forward, her interest piqued. She zoomed in on the flyer's digital menu. There, listed prominently among the catered desserts, was her absolute favorite: a towering, three-flavored Neapolitan ice cream cake.

It explicitly noted that the desserts were free, but limited in quantity. Neo's mind immediately began to turn. She had been incredibly curious about Mantle since they arrived. She couldn't help but compare it to the sprawling, criminal underground of Mistral Below, where she and Roman had thrived. Mantle was chaotic, angry, and currently rioting. A massive, crowded block party in the middle of a chaotic slum meant distracted people. Distracted people meant vulnerable pockets.

She could get free cake and score a tremendous amount of stolen jewelry in a single evening. With a smug, eager smirk, Neo hopped off the sofa and strutted over to Saitama. She shoved the glowing screen of her Scroll directly into his face.

"Hey, watch it!" Saitama complained comically, leaning back and squinting at the bright light.

"What is it now? If you want me to buy you another overpriced scarf, the answer is absolutely no." Neo rolled her eyes. She tapped a delicate, gloved finger aggressively against the words,'Free All-You-Can-Eat.' Saitama stopped wiping the table. He looked at the words. He looked at the flyer for the political rally.

"A block party? Mantle?" Saitama mumbled, his expression remaining completely flat.

"I don't care about elections. Politics are just rich people yelling at each other in suits. What is kind of city is Mantle anyway?" Neo frowned, waving the Scroll again.

"Besides, t The kid with the cane and his group were incredibly strict about this," Saitama sighed, tossing his banana peel into a nearby trash can.

"They said we are absolutely restricted from leaving this city. If we go down there, they said it could cause a... uh... something something geopolitic, or whatever. We can't go." Neo let out a huff of sheer exasperation. She swiped her finger across the screen, zooming in on the catering menu, and shoved it back under his nose, tapping furiously on one specific line of text. Saitama squinted. His dotted eyes read the words: Limited Solitas Smoked Beef Brisket.

The microfiber cloth slipped from Saitama's hand, landing softly on the glass table. The ambient lighting in the penthouse seemed to darken. The comedic, rounded features of Saitama's face instantly shifted, his jawline sharpening into heavily shaded, hyper-detailed lines of absolute, terrifying intensity. A fierce, unyielding aura of pure, predatory determination radiated from his body.

Saitama grabbed Neo by the shoulders, looking her dead in the eye with a gaze that had terrified warlords and cosmic entities alike.

"This is a secret mission," Saitama declared, his voice dropping into a low, deadly serious register.

"We get in, we secure the limited beef before they run out, and we extract back to this penthouse before the kids even know we're gone. It's just one night. Nobody will ever know." Neo stared at his dramatically intense face. She slowly reached up, gently removing his hands from her shoulders. A wicked, deeply satisfied smirk stretched across her lips, and she offered a sharp, confirming nod. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

An hour later, the biting, sub-zero winds of the Solitas atmosphere howled across the sprawling expanse of the Atlas Military Transit Hub. This massive, fortified platform served as the primary connecting bridge between the floating city of Atlas and the sprawling crater of Mantle below. The area was a hive of chaotic, high-stakes military activity.

Heavily armed soldiers marched in tight formations, loading massive crates of riot-control gear, tear gas, and hard-light barriers into the cargo bays of waiting Manta airships. At the primary security checkpoint leading to the loading docks, two Atlesian guards stood rigidly, their assault rifles held at the ready as they scanned the ID badges of the passing logistics operators.

"Move it along, engineering! Keep the line tight! We need these supplies airborne in five minutes!" one of the guards barked over the roaring turbine engines. Two logistics operators, wearing heavy gray Atlesian mechanic jumpsuits and carrying clipboards, walked briskly past the checkpoint.

"Clear. Next!" the guard shouted, waving them through without a second glance. However, the guards were entirely unaware of the magical anomaly that had just bypassed their perimeter. Through the lens of Neopolitan's Overactive Imagination Semblance, the world perceived two mundane mechanics. But beneath the localized, flawless camouflage she was projecting, the reality was utterly absurd.

Walking onto the highly restricted military tarmac was Saitama, fully dressed in his sharp black suit, pristine white trench coat, and Roman Torchwick's bowler hat. Walking casually beside him was Neo, wrapped in her warm black trench coat and white scarf, her pink-and-white parasol Hush resting easily over her shoulder. Saitama looked around at the bustling soldiers, the massive crates of weaponry, and the blaring sirens.

He was completely, blissfully oblivious to the fact that Neo was utilizing her illusion Semblance to cloak them.

"Man, this bus station is really intense," Saitama whispered loudly, leaning down toward Neo as they walked past a squad of heavily armed AK-200 androids.

"Why is everyone dressed in armor just to go down to the party? Do you think they're worried about running out of brisket too?" Neo's left eye twitched violently. She desperately shushed him, waving her hands frantically and pointing toward the open cargo bay of a waiting Manta airship.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Saitama mumbled, adjusting his bowler hat.

"I'm just saying, I'm glad I wore my hat. It really helps me blend in with the locals." Neo let out a silent, agonizing sigh of sheer exasperation. She grabbed the sleeve of his trench coat, dragging the invincible, oblivious anomaly up the metal ramp and into the dark, cavernous cargo hold of the airship. They seamlessly slipped behind a towering stack of metal supply crates just as the heavy ramp hissed shut, sealing them inside.

The airship's engines roared, and the vessel lifted off the tarmac, initiating its descent toward Mantle. Saitama casually took a seat on a crate marked'HIGH EXPLOSIVE DUST - HANDLE WITH CARE'. He crossed his legs, leaning back with a dull, unimpressed expression.

"This is the worst bus ride ever," Saitama complained comically, tapping his red rubber boot against the metal floorboards.

"There aren't even any hand straps. If I spill my sauce on my suit because of turbulence, I'm going to be really annoyed." Neo simply smirked, settling comfortably onto a crate across from him, entirely thrilled by the success of her infiltration.

By the time evening cast its long, dark shadows over the Kingdom of Atlas, the grand, pristine hallways of the upper-tier residential spire were quiet. The silence, however, was abruptly shattered by the energetic, echoing voices of a large group of teenagers. Weiss, Yang, Blake, Oscar, and Ciel Soleil were walking down the plush, carpeted corridor leading to the Schnee-sponsored penthouse. Following closely beside them were Flynt Coal and Neon Katt, the vibrant members of Team FNKI.

They had originally planned to hit the neon-lit clubs of Atlas's entertainment district to celebrate their return from a grueling perimeter deployment. But the moment Neon Katt heard that the bald, egg-faced hero was currently residing in a luxury penthouse, she had absolutely lost her mind. Neon Katt was literally rollerblading down the expensive hallway, her rainbow-colored hair bouncing and her feline tail swishing with hyperactive delight.

"Oh my gosh, I am so completely hyped right now!" Neon cheered, doing a flawless spin on her skates.

"I can't believe we actually get to hang out with the cue-ball! In a Schnee penthouse, no less! This is way better than going to the neon clubs!"

"Keep your voice down, Neon," Flynt Coal chuckled smoothly, adjusting the brim of his fedora as he walked with cool, rhythmic swagger.

"But yeah, when we heard the Hero of Vale was crashing up here, we had to come pay our respects. The clubs will always be there. A guy who can catch bullets with his bare hands? That's a rare gig."

"We're really glad you guys could make it," Yang grinned, casually bumping her fists together.

"Honestly, having some extra company is exactly what we need tonight. It's gonna be fun."

"I just hope he does not mind the sudden intrusion," Oscar noted, laughing incredibly awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck, intimidated by Team FNKI's overwhelming confidence.

"He'll be fine," Blake offered a small, reassuring smile.

"He complains, but he genuinely doesn't mind having people around." Weiss marched at the front of the pack, her posture rigid as she shot a highly stern, aristocratic glare over her shoulder at the rollerblading Faunus.

"I must warn you all, this penthouse is the property of the Schnee Dust Company," Weiss stated strictly.

"Please, refrain from breaking any of the furniture, testing the structural integrity of the walls, or spilling anything on the imported rugs."

"Relax, Ice Queen! We're total professionals!" Neon giggled, nearly knocking over a priceless Ming vase on a hallway pedestal before Flynt smoothly caught it. Ciel Soleil checked her oversized pocket watch, her face a mask of absolute, unyielding discipline.

"It is currently nineteen-hundred hours and twelve minutes. According to his established behavioral parameters, Mr. Saitama should be concluding his evening meal and entering a state of lethargic digestion. The timing for observation is optimal."

"It's just a shame Ruby and Team JNPR couldn't be here," Yang sighed softly, a fleeting look of concern crossing her lilac eyes.

"They're still down in Mantle, guarding that boring victory party for Robyn Hill."

"They are fulfilling their duties as Huntsmen," Ciel replied clinically.

"We are fulfilling our duty of monitoring the anomaly." The group finally arrived in front of the towering, heavy mahogany double doors of the penthouse suite. Yang stepped forward and pressed the glowing, crystal doorbell. A melodic, elegant chime echoed from inside the suite. The teenagers stood in the quiet hallway, waiting for the heavy footsteps of the bald hero, or the silent opening of the door by the illusionist. Ten seconds passed. Nothing happened.

"Maybe he's in the bathroom?" Flynt suggested, leaning casually against the wall. Yang pressed the bell again, holding it down for a solid three seconds. Still, absolute silence. Not even the faint sound of the television playing from within.

"That is highly irregular," Ciel frowned, her brow furrowing.

"He rarely leaves the premises after sunset unless provoked by a localized retail discount."

"Stand back," Weiss sighed, reaching into the hidden pocket of her blue-and-white armored dress.

"Fortunately, Winter provided me with a master spare keycard for emergencies." Weiss swiped the sleek black card against the electronic lock. The heavy mechanism clicked, flashing a welcoming green light. Weiss pushed the heavy mahogany doors open, stepping into the grand foyer.

"Saitama? Neo? We brought friends!" Yang called out cheerfully, stepping in behind her. The teenagers piled into the massive, opulent living room. The grand crystal chandelier was off. The television was dark. The kitchen was completely spotless, and the master and guest bedroom doors were wide open, revealing empty beds. The luxury penthouse was completely, utterly deserted.

The boisterous energy of Team FNKI and the relaxed anticipation of Team RWBY evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, creeping sense of profound confusion and dread. Oscar Pine stepped further into the silent living room, his hazel eyes scanning the empty space. He looked at the untouched sofa, and then back at the bewildered faces of his friends.

"Where did they go?"