Chapter 40 : Store
Four more days passed without a single useful lead.
At this point even M.M. had started wondering whether Popclaw’s information was actually reliable or whether they’d wasted nearly a week watching an ordinary noodle shop for nothing.
Every day looked identical — customers entering, workers moving supplies, delivery vans stopping outside, nothing happening.
Butcher wasn’t with them today either. He’d gone to contact an old associate about bringing down Vought and the Seven, which left Frenchie, M.M., Hughie, and Mark handling surveillance again.
Mark was completely bored.
Ever since publicly beating A-Train, Vought had clearly started taking him seriously. News coverage on "The Devil" had slowed heavily, and despite internet discussions still running, his popularity growth had practically stalled.
After more than a week, his points sat at a hundred and fifty thousand, which annoyed him more than he expected.
Sitting inside the coffee shop across from the noodle restaurant, Mark rested his chin on one hand and quietly activated future vision behind the black glasses. Since the Six Eyes merged with the ability, the skill had become considerably stronger.
Originally he only caught short flashes — now he could observe multiple branching futures simultaneously, most of them unstable past the two-minute mark, but within that window the volume of information he could process was absurd.
He watched dozens of possible outcomes overlap in front of him.
Then one possibility sharpened and held.
A man entered the noodle shop empty-handed. Two minutes later the same man walked out carrying a black sports bag.
The vision dissolved immediately.
Mark stood up from his chair. "Well," he said, "there’s our cue."
Frenchie and M.M. both looked through the café window toward the noodle shop. Nothing looked unusual. No bag, no suspicious movement, nothing.
M.M. frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Mark adjusted his glasses. "Just wait two minutes."
Almost exactly two minutes later, the noodle shop door opened and a man walked out with a black sports bag, moving down the sidewalk at an easy pace.
M.M. straightened immediately. Frenchie’s eyes narrowed — the timing matched perfectly.
Both of them turned toward Mark.
He looked back for a second before sighing. "Stop staring at me and follow him."
The three of them followed the man through several crowded streets while trying not to make the tail obvious.
The guy walked casually with headphones on and zero awareness of his surroundings like somebody who genuinely believed nobody in the world cared about him enough to follow him.
Or maybe he simply didn’t care.
After several turns through busy sidewalks and traffic crossings, the man eventually entered a large general store packed with customers.
Mark looked toward the building and immediately recognized it from the future fragments he had already seen earlier.
’Kimiko,’ he thought quietly.
So this was where things finally started moving properly.
The three entered separately while keeping visual contact with the man carrying the black sports bag.
He casually walked through several aisles before reaching a staff-only door near the back storage section. After unlocking it with a key, he stepped inside and locked the door behind him.
Frenchie stared toward the entrance.
"Well," he muttered, "that is definitely hiding something."
Mother’s Milk casually scanned the area while trying not to attract attention.
"Looks like we found the real distribution point."
Meanwhile Mark wandered toward the refrigerated drinks section looking completely uninterested in stealth or investigation.
A female employee eventually approached Mother’s Milk and Frenchie after noticing them standing around too long.
"Can I help you gentlemen?"
Without hesitation, M.M. grabbed the nearest item from the shelf and held it up naturally.
"This one," he said calmly. "Can I get it in another colour?"
The employee looked down at the item.
Then slowly looked back at him.
Mother’s Milk was holding a pack of women’s sanitary pads.
The employee stared at him with visible confusion.
Frenchie immediately turned his face away trying very hard not to laugh.
The female employee kept staring at Mother’s Milk for another second before forcing out an awkward professional smile.
"I... think the pink version is in aisle seven," she said carefully.
Then she walked away much faster than before while very clearly deciding she wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever conversation this was.
Mother’s Milk watched her leave and immediately realized how this looked.
"Oh, come on."
Frenchie finally lost the fight against his own amusement and started laughing quietly beside him.
"Yes, yes," he said while grinning. "Tell me, mon ami, do you truly require a different colour?"
M.M. gave him an irritated look.
"I grabbed the first thing I saw."
Frenchie nodded dramatically.
"Of course. A tragic accident involving feminine hygiene products."
Mother’s Milk looked ready to throw something at him.
From several feet away, Mark cracked open a cold drink from the refrigerator section and watched the locked staff door through the glass reflection. "Can you two focus," he said, not turning around.
"The drug trafficking operation is slightly more important than M.M.’s secret lifestyle." He paused.
"Although — genuine curiosity — do you actually use them?"
Frenchie lost it completely.
*****
A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.
👉 /Mark841
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