The Z-City Hero Association branch practically vibrated with excitement after discovering they'd struck gold. Jordan and Bang returned to the locker room to change, then found themselves being escorted to a reception room where Lanny served tea with barely contained enthusiasm.
The Hero Association was still in its early days. No written exams yet. Physical testing alone determined your fate.
Lanny leaned forward, hands folded on the low table. "Currently, we only have three tiers: A, B, and C-Class. Your ranking depends on four factors, each worth twenty-five percent." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Monster elimination record, combat ability, community contribution, and public popularity. We recalculate weekly, so rankings stay fluid."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "So being strong doesn't automatically make you A-Class?"
"Exactly." Lanny's smile turned businesslike. "You two joined mid-cycle, which gives you an advantage in initial placement. Strong abilities help. But after that?" She shrugged. "Hero work, public relations, fan support. You'll compete with everyone else for position."
Bang waved a dismissive hand. "Rankings don't interest this old man. I'm not here to steal jobs from youngsters."
"Same here," Jordan added. "Though if you run into something weird you can't handle, give me a call."
Lanny's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. She'd hoped for more competitive fire. Still, she recovered quickly, adjusting her burgundy glasses. "We've already sent this morning's test results to headquarters. The association needs to deliberate on your exact rankings. Expect notification within three days."
"So we're done?" Bang rubbed his lower back with theatrical pain, then rolled his shoulders like his joints might give out any second. "This old body needs rest. Almost lunchtime too. How about we find somewhere for a drink?"
Jordan studied the old man's performance. Bang moved like a grandmaster when testing equipment, but now he was all aches and creaks. Who was he trying to fool?
"How about my place?" Jordan offered. "I'll cook something. You can try my 'vintage 1982 beer'"
Bang's eyes lit up. "You cook? This old man would be delighted to sample your skills." He paused. "Though what in the world is '1982 beer'?"
"Just a tired joke."
They were already standing, heading for the door before Lanny could interject.
Professional to the core, she hurried after them, heels clicking on polished floors. She caught them at the entrance, pressing business cards into their hands.
"Contact me anytime. Day or night."
She watched the mismatched pair disappear around the corner, one elderly and dignified, the other young and casual, then exhaled slowly.
The moment she turned back toward the building, her warm smile vanished. Cool professionalism settled over her features like a mask. Several male staff members straightened under her icy gaze as she strode past, already mentally organizing the paperwork for Jordan and Bang's rankings.
No time to waste.
On the way back, Jordan detoured into a convenience store.
Bang watched him navigate the aisles with practiced efficiency, selecting ingredients and fresh fruit. "Not many young people these days cook for themselves. You've got range, Jordan."
"My job's not too demanding." Jordan grabbed a bottle of soy sauce. "Plus I've got some convenient tricks." He gestured vaguely at himself. "Office workers barely have time to breathe, much less cook."
Outside, Jordan pressed the shopping bags against his chest. They dissolved into cards and vanished.
Bang's eye twitched. "I have to say, your power is ridiculously convenient."
"I agree completely."
They were chatting amicably when two figures burst from a nearby alley.
"Stop! Don't run!"
Jordan's enhanced senses caught everything instantly. The pursuer was a black-haired man, roughly 1.75 meters tall, wearing a faded blue tracksuit that had seen better days.
His target had a humanoid shape and wore a green coat, but its blue skin and the strange aura radiating from it screamed "not human."
Bang's sharp senses had noticed too. "Jordan, those two just now..."
Their eyes met. Consensus reached.
"Follow them!" they said in unison.
"You think you can escape?"
The cold voice came from above. The blue-skinned frog creature looked up, sweat beading on its forehead, and jabbed an accusing finger at the silhouette backlit by sunlight. "Persistent pest! Who are you?!"
Saitama stood on the rooftop railing of a four-story building, face obscured by the glare. "Me?" His tone was matter-of-fact. "I'm someone who became a hero out of interest."
Sunlight streamed down behind him. His shadowed figure looked imposing. Dramatic, even.
Then he bent his knees and jumped.
Several months of brutal training had transformed his body. He still struggled with his self-imposed regimen, but he'd grown noticeably stronger.
Four stories? Nothing.
The air tore. Saitama landed perfectly.
Then felt a distinct chill around his lower body.
He glanced down. His already heavily-patched sweatpants had caught on something during the fall. The entire back section hung in tatters, revealing pink boxer shorts that looked more like fabric scraps.
No wonder it felt breezy.
Saitama's hand shot to cover his rear. His cool hero entrance transformed into something considerably less dignified.
On the higher rooftop, two witnesses covered their faces simultaneously.
Jordan had been ready to introduce Saitama to Bang. Now? Not so much.
"Jordan, do you know that guy down there?"
"Don't ask me. I've never seen him before in my life."
"Hahaha!" The frog-man, who'd been terrified moments ago, burst into mocking laughter. "You call yourself a hero looking like that?! You chased me three whole blocks and I thought you were somebody... huh... eh?"
The laughter died in his throat. Saitama's expression had gone serious. Their eyes met.
Terror flooded through the creature.
"Ahhh! Help! Mercy! Please!"
The beating was swift and brutal. Stolen CDs scattered across the pavement, now covered in strange green bodily fluids.
"Well, even if we recovered them, nobody could use these now."
Saitama stood over the unconscious frog-man, shaking slime off his hands with visible disgust. "What a waste."
His frown deepened. Without warning, his gaze snapped upward to a specific point. "Who's there?"
"Well done, young man." Bang's voice carried down from the rooftop, warm with approval. "Would you be interested in learning martial arts?"
Jordan leaned over the edge, grinning. "We meet again, Saitama. You looked really cool when you jumped down. The landing though?" He shook his head. "Kind of pathetic."