BANK ACCOUNT OF [LOW]

TOTAL AMOUNT: +782 591.36 SIGS

RECENT TRANSFERS:

+1574 SIGS FROM SAFE LOVE

-70 SIGS FROM RIDE & DINE

-212.99 SIGS FROM GIZMOS & ATMOS

+400 SIGS FROM IRON CLAW

I lean back against my creaky wooden chair, staring up at the moist, white roof. My room isn't what one would call 'homely', but having a room at all is pretty much a luxury around here. All you can find here is a bed, a closet, a desk with my very slow but still functional computer – and most importantly – privacy.

Privacy is not that important as far as basic needs go, but it is restrictive. If you want to sell important data to third parties or research suspicious things on the internet, then anyone looking over your shoulder can make you regret whatever you were doing.

I didn’t even have to pay for this room, I only had to work here for two years. I thought I would get access to better quarters after ten years of service, but unfortunately that requires a promotion – and I’m not putting that kind of target on my back.

I look back at my bank account, I nearly have eight hundred thousand sigs.

How long will it take to gather the remaining two hundred thousand? Two years? Three years? Three years sounds about right. I'm almost there, I just need to keep going for three more years, and I'll finally be able to get out of this country.

I wonder what life will be like out there, not having to worry about super heroes punching your jaw straight out of your skull, being able to get a normal job with a normal pay, not having to risk your life every single day…

The problem with immigration is that if you show up in a country with no credentials and no way to properly fit in, you'll end up way more miserable than wherever you came from. But with one million sigs? I can hire the right people to make a fake ID, hide my criminal background and find a cozy place to live in with plenty of jobs for me, maybe even go to college – is it too late for college?

I’m sure some people would call me ‘over prepared’, but I know my place. People without super powers, money or luck need to lay low and play it as safe as possible, and even then something might screw you over at any moment. That’s why you have to be cautious and take into account every possible eventuality –nothing can surprise you this way.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The speaker in my room suddenly blares out, “FELLOW COMPATRIOTS! I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT MISSION FOR ALL OF YOU!” I can’t help but groan at the microphone quality, you’d think Iron Claw could invest into some better audio equipment if he’s going to yell at us every day like this. “WE WILL ATTACK THE W.S. FACTORY AT NOON, IT WILL BE DANGEROUS WORK, BUT I BELIEVE IN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. DO NOT FORGET TO STAMP THE PARTICIPATION FORM BEFORE AND AFTER THE MISSION.”

I sigh, and type “Winged Snake inc” in the search bar. I stretch as the all too familiar loading icon takes away my ability to use the computer for a few minutes; once my web browser is finally done wasting my time, I read the description of each search result intently. Opening every single web page would take too long, so I need to be careful about what website I decide to click on. After a Iittle bit of scrolling, I reach the end of the first page of web result – opening the second page would take at least another minute, so I settle for the most trustworthy sounding website I can see instead.

There’s all the standard, publicly available info; winged snake is a research company that is well known for fixing many genetic disorders, and they are also led by a man trying to do some kind of ethnic cleansing – not the regular kind where you kill people of a certain race; he just wants to turn everyone into bird hybrids because of some nutty religious belief he has. He is yet to do anything actually dangerous, so he’s not officially a super villain.

It’s a pretty important company, so any info I get on the mission is bound to sell for a lot, and since we’re here to destroy the factory, I might even be able to steal a few valuable things here. The issue is that I don’t believe for a second a bunch of henchmen would be able to destroy a factory that belongs to such a powerful company; this means we’ll be used as a distraction for whatever iron claw’s real plan is.

I couldn’t care less what that plan may be, but if it affects my chance of survival, I’d like to be made aware of it.

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud knocking at my door. I delete my search history before groggily leaving my chair, I swear if it’s that elite again-

“Hi!” A young man in a shining gray uniform waves at me.

I slam the door to his face.

He knocks again, I wait for him to stop – but he doesn’t. I’d file a complaint if anyone around here actually did anything about them.

I begrudgingly reopen the door, and he waves at me – again.

“Hi!” He smiles with a positivity that does not belong to this place.

“You said that already, what do you want?” I cross my arms, not trying to hide my annoyance one bit. I have no need to be nice to someone who is probably going to bite the bullet in the next month.

“Is it true that you’ve worked here for ten years?”

I groan. It’s not really a secret, but it’s one of those things that I don’t like people knowing about. He probably asked around for the most experienced henchman and my name inevitably came up – even then, it would make more sense to ask a superior for advice.

“I’m familiar with this line of work, yes.”

“I wanted to ask you-” He pulls out a notepad and a pen from his uniform. “-do you have any tips when it comes to working as a henchman? I want to give my best for Iron Claw!”

“Ho, you’re one of those.” I massage my temples, mentally prepare myself for the conversation that will follow. “If you want to make Iron Claw proud, be suicidal; If you want to survive, be a coward.”

He dutifully notes what I say. “What do you mean by...'suicidal'?”

“You and I, we’re cannon fodder, but neither of us are paid on productivity. You want to get a promotion? Here’s my advice: whenever you get hit, play dead – then run away when everyone’s back is turned.”

“But...aren’t we supposed to fight until the end? What if a superhero needs to get hit one more time by one of us, and it doesn’t happen because we’re playing dead?”

“If you’re capable of leaving a dent on a superhero, then go for it. But if you fight until you’re knocked out cold, what do you think will happen when the good guys inevitable win?”

“We’ll...be put in prison?”

I snap my fingers. “Correct – and that’s if you’re lucky. If you’re against other super villains, then you might have some messed up experiments done on you or have a few organs harvested. Point is, this isn’t a city that rewards courage. You want to change the world? You want to make Iron Claw proud? Then henchman’s not the job for you.”

“H...ha… O-okay...” He says in a dejected tone. “I-it’s been...enlightening. T-Thank you for your time.” He bows and takes his leave. I gladly shut the door and go back to my computer, it's still loading the next page.

I can’t wait to leave this place.