Otto wasn’t going to school anymore.

It was an odd feeling. He had been going to school for…well, his entire conscious life. Even after his parents died, he went to school. He had some time off, of course; he needed to properly move in with his grandparents, be enrolled in the nearby school, and be given time to grieve, but fairly quickly he was thrust back into the New York public education system. Even on days where he wanted to do nothing more than curl up in bed and do nothing, his grandparents insisted he get on the bus.

At the time, he hated it. He felt like his parents had just died, why in the world was he being forced to go to math? In hindsight though, he understood why they did it. They didn’t want it to do more permanent damage than it had to, getting him back in school so quickly was their way of keeping him socialized, on par with everyone else his age. If he was still in school, that meant he could make friends. If he had homework to do every night, that meant his mind wasn’t constantly dwelling on his grief.

He still wasn’t sure if he supported their theory, but at least he understood now. There were some days where he, quite frankly, should not have been in school, but those were sparse compared to the times where once he got on the bus, he started to feel better.

This time, they supported him not going to school. Mainly because there wasn’t really much of a point. He would, once he was ferried off to Babylon, enroll in a school there and continue his education. The month wasn’t enough time to finish off the school year, and in the eyes of those schools, a partially completed year didn’t really matter. In all likelihood, he would be popped into a class with kids his age regardless of if he had graduated the previous grade or not. Besides, that was under the assumption that schools in Babylon would be the same as the ones here, which was almost certainly not the case.

That was the reason they said. The real reason, though, was that they wanted to spend time with him before he was gone.

“God.” Otto panted, hands on his knees. He wore a pair of dirty work gloves, jeans that were getting dirt smeared on the knees, and an ill-advised, deeply stained white t-shirt. He was in the garden with his grandfather, and had been digging holes for at least an hour.

“You know I’m not an Agreed yet, right?” He said to his grandfather, who despite getting there in age, wasn’t flagging one bit. Otto couldn’t even tell if he was sweating. “I’m not superhuman yet. Right now I’m just your grandson. Your weak, weak grandson.”

He saw a smile quirk at the corner of his grandfather’s face; he had been freer with those recently. He grunted and nodded at the shovel leaning against the greenhouse.

“Come on.” He said. Otto groaned and grabbed it, moving over to help.

They were digging and re-filling holes all over the backyard where his grandfather was planning on planting new vegetables, for some reason. It was autumn so they weren’t planting anything yet, but despite that, the wooden haft was in his hand anyway. His grandfather refused to elaborate, but he had managed to wheedle an explanation out of his grandmother, who said it was to break up the hard soil so the plants would grow better. Or something.

Otto felt like the soil should be sufficiently soft from how he grew stuff in the backyard every year, and that it would harden up again come winter, but apparently this was a tradition his grandfather refused to abandon, regardless of if it was scientifically necessary or not.

Then again, it didn’t feel very soft when he was digging in it.

Another hour later with a knot in his lower back and sweat streaming down his face, his grandmother popped out of the cellar with a pitcher of lemonade. He gave his grandfather a pleading look, who grunted and let him go.

“Thank you.” He said to his grandmother while he chugged down two ice cold glasses in quick succession. It was life-giving, and made his weary limbs feel a little bit better. Unfortunately, that meant he would be put back to work, and that he would feel even worse the next day. If he was strong enough to get out of bed, it was a miracle.

His grandmother walked over to his grandfather and started asking what was going where next year. He saw him pointing out spots for squash, cucumber, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, and spinach.

The tomatoes were Otto’s favorite. Fresh tomatoes were just different; a pasta sauce, a nice BLT, even just a little olive oil and salt…if his grandfather didn’t grow such tasty stuff, he would complain far, far more about the work. As it was, he kept it to a healthy medium.

“…won’t stop complaining.” He overheard his grandfather say. His grandmother just laughed and patted him on the arm, leaning into him while they looked at the garden.

Otto longed to sit down, preferable on the picnic table his grandmother had set the lemonade pitcher on, but if he did he knew he wouldn’t get up, no matter how much his grandfather groused and grumbled at him. Instead, he limped over, resigning himself to more work in the gulag.

He was saved by a distraction from the front. A car pulled into their driveway and parked; it was an older model, Otto could tell. It looked well kept, and the owner obviously had pride in its appearance. It was the kind of car that he wouldn’t be surprised if the driver could point out each part and cite what it was and where they got it. A custom fixer-upper job, a passion project that resulted in a rather pristine looking mustang.

A middle aged white man emerged from the driver’s side door. He had thinning hair on top that was slicked back, revealing a blunt widow’s peak. He wore what Otto would call ‘business casual,’ a white dress shirt tucked into chino pants with a black belt and dark brown loafers. No tie. Strangely, he wore a long, tan trench coat despite the day’s heat. It wasn’t blistering out, but Otto and his family were comfortably wearing t-shirts. A pleasant breeze went by now and again, carrying the grassy, leaf-filled smells of an especially nice autumn day.

The man tucked his keys into a pant pocket and approached the side gate. Otto and his family eyed the man; at any moment, he expected one of his grandparents to call out in recognition, but they never did. That was odd; they knew everyone who came by, unless it was someone selling something, but he didn’t look like he was selling anything. There was no other reason for someone to come to his grandparent’s house specifically.

Otto got a sudden sinking feeling.

The man noticed he and his family and smiled. It was a politician’s smile; it looked too practiced, too manicured. Something about it was uncanny; the man was smiling, and he wanted you to know that it was genuine. He was a friendly, trustworthy guy. Just look at those pearly whites.

It had the opposite effect. Otto tensed, and he noticed his grandparents do the same beside him.

“Evening!” He called out, waving a hand, still smiling wide. Otto and his grandmother didn’t move, and only after a few beats did his grandfather raise a hand in greeting.

“Okay if I pop on through?” He asked, pointing at the side gate. His grandfather gave a slow nod.

The gate creaked as it let him through and he walked forward, taking time to look at the property, smiling and admiring it. He walked up and extended a hand to his grandfather, his eyes landing on Otto and his grandmother in equal measure. It may have been his imagination, but he swore the eyes lingered on him longer than they should have.

“Nice to meet you.” The man said. “Beautiful place you have here. That willow out front is just gorgeous – it come with the property?”

His grandfather nodded and shook his hand. “It did.”

The man put his hands on his hips and nodded, tapping one foot, taking up what Otto referred to as the ‘dad stance,’ but even that felt off. It was too rehearsed, unlike the natural evolution all men underwent upon becoming fathers.

“Nice garden, too. Beautiful home…carved out your very own little slice of Eden here, huh?” He asked with a chuckle.

His grandfather forced a smile. “I try.”

The man nodded and raised his hands, palms out.

“Listen, I’ll admit: I’m not just here for pleasantries.” He said. His eyes flickered to Otto. He looked back to his grandparents.

“My name is Agent Carter, and I work for the government.” He said. “I’m here on a quick errand, and I’ll be out of your hair. Sound good?”

His grandfather’s grip tightened on the shovel.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Agent Carter chuckled. “Not one to take someone at face value, huh? I respect that.” He reached into his pant pocket. As he did so, his jacket pulled back, revealing a pistol holstered on his side.

At the sight of it, Otto broke out into a sweat. His grandmother paled and grabbed onto her husband for support, and even he looked rattled. More than that, though, he looked angry. His eyes narrowed. Agent Carter didn’t seem to notice, pulling a badge from his pocket, flashing it confidently.

When he looked up, he noticed the change in attitude and his grin fell away.

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Carter?” His grandfather asked. His eyes were still stuck on where the gun was on his side, now covered by the jacket again.

Agent Carter looked down and up at his grandfather with alarm, and held up his hands.

“No, no! Absolutely not!” He said hurriedly. “That was an accident and a mistake. I apologize. Sincerely.” He said. Strangely, this time, Otto believed him. “I meant to leave it in the car – we’re all issued a firearm as part of doing fieldwork to protect ourselves. Standard procedure.”

His grandfather relaxed slightly at his words. They were the most believable thing the man had said so far. Still, someone with a gun arriving at your door on government business didn’t sit quite right.

“Do you want me to put it in the car?” Agent Carter asked, pointing a thumb back. “It’s no problem, really, I can-“

“It’s fine.” His grandfather said after examining the badge. “I believe you.” If the badge hadn’t done it, the gun had. “What’s your business?”

Agent Carter visibly relaxed and tucked the badge back in his pocket, taking care to avoid the gun, and smiled at them. His eyes found Otto, and he nodded at him before turning back to his grandfather.

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“It’s come to my – and the United States government’s – attention that your grandson has been selected by the Donor.” He said. He turned back to Otto and flashed a grin.

“Congratulations, young man. I’m sure you’re thrilled.”

Otto’s frown deepened. That, of everything that happened so far, seemed to confuse the agent the most.

“How do you know that?” His grandfather asked, his eyes narrowing. Otto wanted to know the same thing. The only people aware of his selection were his grandparents, Tobe, Kim, and Angel. His grandparents wouldn’t have told anyone, Tobe and Kim could have but Otto found it very unlikely, and while Angel seemed likely at first glance…he didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, it sounded like she didn’t care much for the data compiling the governments of Earth were taking part in with the Agreed, and she’d said his visit would be confidential.

Agent Carter’s smile turned thinner than before.

“I can’t tell you that. Top secret, I’m afraid.”

Hastily, Otto pulled up the Donor screen of the contract. He relaxed when he read the number at the bottom, though it made him look at the Agent with confusion, and a bit of wariness.

“I still have twenty days left until I’m required to register.” He said defensively. His grandfather looked at him and back at the Agent and it was like every muscle in his body tensed at once when he sensed Otto’s fear. If the Agent tried to take him, Otto had a feeling his grandfather would die stopping him.

Agent Carter looked like this wasn’t how he planned this interaction to go. He held up his hands and spoke calmly and slowly.

“I understand. I’m not pushing you to register sooner than you are required; I’m just here to – inquire – that you are planning on registering. Right?” he asked. Otto nodded slowly in return.

He let out a breath. “Good. That’s good.” He sounded genuinely relieved. “That’s all I’m here for. Most Agreed tend to register as soon as possible, and when one doesn’t, it’s unclear if they’re simply taking more time with their family before going to Babylon like you, or if they’ve decided to…not register at all.”

Otto heard the implication in his words: supervillains.

Most people were tripping over themselves in excitement that they registered in the first couple days, but it had been over a week since Otto was chosen. Maybe not most people, but a sizable enough portion of Agreed who didn’t register immediately ended up not registering at all, and a significant enough number of those ended up becoming villains that it was apparently worth it for the US government to send out agents to ‘check in’ on up-and-coming Agreed.

He wondered if he was only being checked up on because he was an A rank. Surely they couldn’t spare an agent for every D rank Agreed that popped up across the country, they had to triage somehow.

Then again, maybe he had just already developed an overinflated sense of self worth from his rank. That was possible too.

“Well, I’m planning on registering.” Otto eventually said. “Problem solved. Good?”

Agent carter nodded and pulled a pen and pad out of his jacket pocket. He crossed something off and tucked it back away.

“Peachy. I thank you for your patience and assistance in working this out, and again, I am truly sorry about the…mishap earlier.” He said with a slight wince.

He turned to Otto. “Good luck. I’ll keep my eye on you.” He said with a friendly smile, tapping beside an eye before turning and walking back to his car. He drove off, leaving the three of them in silence.

His parting words rang in Otto’s mind. He might have meant it in a friendly, “I can’t wait to see what you end up doing with your powers” sort of way, but after tracking him down to his home and revealing the government knew he was an Agreed…it had a different connotation.

Otto’s grandfather grunted and grabbed both of the shovels, carrying them to the greenhouse. His grandmother released a sigh of relief and rubbed Otto’s back. He leaned into the touch.

“If I knew a government agent showing up with a gun was all it took to get me out of gardening duty, I’d have become an Agreed way sooner.” Otto said.

His grandmother chuckled and smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

“Hush.” She said with a smile. “If he hears you, you’re gonna be digging holes ‘till morning.”

She grabbed him by the arm. “Come on. Maybe we’ll order food tonight.”

* * *

They did, in fact, order food that night.

It was Italian. A local restaurant named Paulie’s that advertised itself as a pizza place because they weren’t quite a sit-down, but they were more than Domino’s. Their pizza was better, that was for sure. It was his grandfather’s favorite spot to order from, and his grandmother had made the executive decision to order that night after the dour mood. His grandfather grumbled, but when his eyes locked on the baked spinach ricotta penne he ordered, Otto could tell he was happier for it.

He ended up getting a steak sub, and after, he invited Kim and Tobe to hang out and watch a movie. His grandparents were in the living room, and occasionally they could hear his grandfather yell something at the TV while the Red Socks did something he didn’t like.

After one particularly loud outburst, Tobe glanced up. They hadn’t started the movie yet, and were currently just sitting around talking. Kim was laying on the floor, Tobe was slumped way down in his computer chair, and Otto was sitting on his bed. The TV was a somewhat recent development; a couple years ago his grandfather had mounted it on the wall without telling him, leading to a pleasant surprise when he got home.

“Wow, they must be really shitting the bed.” Tobe said after one particularly loud outburst.

Otto glanced up from his bed. “They’re probably doing pretty good tonight. He’s usually way louder.” He typed something into his phone. “Yeah. They’re up six right now.”

Tobe’s head rocked back. “That’s what he sounds like when they’re up?”

Otto laughed and Kim rolled over, reaching for a soft red ball that had gotten lost under his dresser. He spoke while examining it.

“Maybe you can become some kind of exotic boxer once you register.” He said. “Like, “fish-man, boxing champion!”

Tobe thought for a moment and nodded. “I could see that. I can hear the commercial now; it would for sure be on some shitty channel that nobody watches, but you would bring viewers. Then, they’d be so afraid to do new things that might lose viewership they’ll end up running re-runs of you flailing around in the water fighting dolphins twenty years from now for people who forget to cancel their cable subscription.”

Otto glared at Tobe, and glared even more at Kim.

“Do you really have to bring up my registration every time you speak?” He asked. Kim shrugged.

“Oh yeah, let’s just ignore that our friend is getting teleported away in less than a month to become a space-time galactic fish kaiju. That’s way more normal.” Kim said while he stared at the ceiling, tossing the ball in the air and catching it.

Otto failed at suppressing a smile and shook his head.

“I doubt I will become any of those things you just listed.”

I hope at least. He thought. Kim’s theory was unfortunately possible; there was plenty of precedent for Agreed with animal related names to have powers that turned them into their namesake. Some guy from Taiwan was able to turn into some kind of terrifying alien dinosaur with like five mouths and giant claws. Otto turning into a massive fish was disturbingly likely. A dangerous, bad-ass fish probably, but a fish nonetheless.

“Besides,” he said after a moment, “I don’t think that would be good for a number of reasons. Despite what you guys seem to think, I’m no boxing master. There’s a reason I quit.”

Tobe waved at Kim to toss him the ball. “You were good enough to kick Brett’s ass.” He threw the ball back.

“Yeah,” Kim caught the ball and threw it, “I thought you were pretty good. You weren’t Anderson Silva but you were getting there.”

“Anderson Silva was MMA, not boxing.” Otto said. “I wasn’t bad at it, it’s just…” he shifted uncomfortably. Kim and Tobe paused in throwing the ball to look at him.

“…I didn’t really like punching people.” He admitted.

It was true. They took more pleasure in him having beaten Brett in a fight than he did. The experience wasn’t very pleasant. It’s not like it was a long, even fight: Brett was a bit taller than him, but when Otto’s fist crunched against his nose, that didn’t really matter.

It didn’t make him feel very good afterwards. In the moment he was too full of adrenaline to think straight - his limbs were actively shaking when he was sat down in the principal’s office - but when he crashed, he felt like shit. He couldn’t get the feeling of his fist connecting with someone’s face out of his mind, and the image of Brett crying with blood running from his wrongly-pointed nose was right there with it. He might have been an asshole, but he wasn’t a unique asshole. He was the same brand of asshole a lot of kids were in school, desperate for attention and to fit in and make their friends laugh. He went further than others, but Otto still didn’t think he deserved that.

Tobe and Kim both blinked.

“You didn’t like punching people?” Tobe asked.

Kim followed right after. “Why the hell were you boxing, then? I don’t know if you’re aware, but that’s the whole sport.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out.” He said flatly. He shrugged. “I sparred a few times and honestly, getting punched in the face was a lot easier than punching someone else. It just…never really felt right. I didn’t want to hurt them, even if that was the point. Or if they were so much better than me that I could never touch them unless they let me.”

A thought dawned on Tobe’s face. He caught the ball and pointed to Otto.

“So after you actually punched Brett for real, you quit boxing after!” he said, and then frowned. “That’s a shame. He could do with getting punched a few more times.”

Otto rolled his eyes. “He didn’t deserve that. He definitely doesn’t deserve more. He was an asshole, but people change. Especially from who they were as literal, actual children.”

Kim thought for a moment.

“Nah, he sucks.” He said. Tobe nodded furiously in agreement. “Dude’s a dickhead. You just don’t see it anymore cause he’s scared of you.”

He turned towards him slowly. “What?”

Kim raised his eyebrows. “Are you joking right now?”

“Nope, he’s not. You can see it on his face. This is his ‘I’m actually stupid right now’ face, not his ‘I’m pretending to be an idiot for the bit’ one. I can tell the difference.”

Before Otto could defend himself, Kim kept going.

“Brett is still an asshole. A big one. You just don’t see it anymore because every time he sees you, he tucks his tail between his legs while muttering to his friends about what a bitch you are.”

Otto shook his head. He didn’t believe it.

“No chance. He’s taller and stronger than me. If we fought again, he would kick my ass. I don’t even box anymore!”

“He’s right.” Tobe said, nodding to Kim. “Brett doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t wanna push the issue. You broke his nose; even if you didn’t like it, he definitely hated it even more.”

Otto looked at both of them. He couldn’t detect a hint of lying or joking in their tones or faces.

“Really?” he asked. He still couldn’t believe it.

Both of them nodded. “He hates you dude. Almost as much as his dad, who’s pissed you ever laid a finger on his precious boy.”

He sunk back into his bed. “Damn.” He said. He looked back at them.

“Is it weird that I don’t care?” he asked.

It felt…small. He was a future Agreed now, going to get shipped off to Babylon in a couple weeks, and apparently some guy he punched one time when he was in middle school hates him still, along with his dad.

“I always thought you didn’t care anyway. I had no idea it was because you’re stupid.” Kim said.

“Yeah, I thought you were confident enough in your boxing if he ever tried anything again to ignore him. I also didn’t think you were just dumb.” Tobe piped up in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” Otto said. “It means a lot.”

“Anyway,” Kim said, changing the subject, “What do you think your class will do?”

Otto groaned and threw his head back. “This again?”

“Oh come on, you must have given it some thought.” He said.

“Fine.” Otto grumbled. He had thought about it, at length, though out of fear and dread more than the excitement Tobe and especially Kim seemed to share.

“It’s probably something to do with water.” He said. He had read up on leviathans in general since getting the class name, and that was really the defining characteristic. “Maybe something to do with being…big?” he said. That was the other thing they all shared; a leviathan was a big water thing. After that, they differed.

“That’s it?” Kim asked with some annoyance. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“It’s vague!” Otto said in his defense. “I have literally one word to work off of! Does it mean the biblical leviathan? Am I going to get struck down by God when I register? I hope not.” He said.

“Is it connected to mythology at all, or is it just a way to say ‘big and wet?’”

Tobe opened his mouth to speak-

“My mom is dead, Tobe.”

Tobe closed his mouth.

“Hm. Fair.” Kim said. “It’s not much to work on, I’ll admit. Angel didn’t say anything about it when we left?” he said. There was a note of longing in his voice when he spoke, making the other two roll their eyes.

“No, your future girlfriend said she didn’t know anything about the class. She said she’d never heard of it.” Otto hadn’t even been aware there were repeat classes. He was under the impression that every class was unique, but he hadn’t paid all that much attention in the first place. Maybe only one of a class could be alive at each time? Or one per contract?

Kim brightened at his words. “Future girlfriend? You really mean it?”

“He doesn’t.” Tobe interjected. “I’ve heard the Donor gives you a class suited to your interests and capabilities. Maybe there’s something about Leviathan that matches you, or maybe the name is just a red herring picked cause it sounds cool.”

Otto raised his eyebrows. “Wait, really? I thought it was random.”

“It is.” Tobe said. Otto’s expression fell. “It made you feel better for a second though, didn’t it?”

Kim bounced the red ball off Tobe’s face, who scowled and rubbed at where it landed.

“Hey. This is his life we’re talking about.” He said seriously. “Don’t make jokes like that. They’re just cruel.”

Tobe muttered an apology, sufficiently chastised.

“Thanks, Kim.” He said, a little surprised at his friend speaking up like that.

“No problem.” He said. After a beat he shared a glance with Tobe.

“…Your face was pretty funny, though.”