The lumpy hotel bed was far more inviting after a long, trying day. Becca put his head in her lap and brushed a comb through his hair. It was an odd sensation at first, but after a while he began to find it soothing.
One good thing about his transformation was that he didn’t work up much of a sweat anymore, even during heavy physical exertion, so there was no great need to go for a shower straight away.
Jacob didn’t want to talk about how his day had gone—it was too embarrassing to admit to Becca that he had lost three out of four times—but she wormed it out of him with a thousand questions.
“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that, bro,” she said once he finished his account of the day. “It still sounds like you did pretty good. And you even leveled up! That’s big!”
“I know. It went okay, considering. Still doesn’t make it feel any better, though.”
“I got you. Wanna honk my honkers to feel better?” She hefted her chest in her hands, more comedically than suggestively, tongue between her teeth.
“Not if you’re gonna refer to it like that,” Jacob said with a sigh.
But he gave in and squeezed her breasts for a while. And it did make him feel better. Even though they were small.
Some time later, everyone but Sonny got together in Mr. Beau’s room to watch old movies on the hotel TV and eat vending machine snacks while they waited for the third day invitations to come in. Jacob tried not to let the nerves get to him. He had done well. He had, hadn’t he?
Bob got his invitation, but Jacob was still left waiting. No one said anything to that effect, but there was a clear chance that he wouldn’t get one. That would set him back a full quarter year, at least. He’d have to go back to fighting underground matches for pocket change. Maybe fights between Users paid better, he didn’t rightly know.
He jerked up when his interface pinged with a message. He scanned through it quickly. An invitation. He’d got through.
That was a relief. Considering that the last day pretty much only consisted of a closing interview and the final evaluation, it was likely that making it that far meant he would at least be given some kind of offer.
Jacob gave Bob a fist-bump, and was finally able to start paying attention to whatever pulpy action flick Mr. Beau had stuck on.
Becca gave Bob a new sticker in celebration, this one right on his forehead. A unicorn horn. She put one on Jacob’s cheek while he wasn’t paying attention and kissed him there. He grumbled about it, but let it stay. It’d make her sad if he took it off.
“Do I not get a kiss?” Bob asked, pointing to his forehead.
“Ask Mr. Beau,” Jacob said.
Bob looked questioningly towards the one-armed barkeep. Mr. Beau sighed, licked the palm of his hand, and smacked the robot upside the head.
Bob accepted that as a sign of affection and clapped his hands with joy.
*****
Jacob was on complete autopilot for the duration of the last day. He phoned his way through the final interview, saying more or less all the same things he had told the instructors on the first day, all to get to his final evaluation faster.
Eighteen applicants remained—everyone else had been sent home. It was no surprise to see who was there. Johnny, Priscilla, Haden, Giselle, and some others whose names he hadn’t bothered to memorize. Aaron was gone, and so was poor Hugo, who had been on his team for the second day. They’d just have to try again in a few months.
Johnny, Priscilla, and Haden got As. Everyone else got Bs or Cs.
Finally, second-to-last, it was time for Jacob’s evaluation. All the instructors were there, seated on chairs behind a long table like he was in front of a jury. Starman was the one who spoke. He wore simple civilian clothes, and looked diminished without his armor.
“Jacob Sorenson, we won’t waste much of your time,” he said. “The data we've gathered on you has been sent to the higher-ups along with our recommendations, and we’ve been approved to place you at a preliminary A-Rank. Of course, you’ll receive your crest and official certification once you complete the Hero Basics course, but unless you majorly mess up, that’s what you can expect.”
Jacob did his best not to look surprised. “I… see. Can I ask what led you to that decision?” He had not at all expected such a high rank.
“You don’t look happy. Let me assure you that A is a very good rank to start with, the best that any applicant can reasonably expect.” Starman had evidently mistaken his neutral expression for displeasure. “As for why we placed you that highly, we believe you have a well-rounded skill set that will allow for timely disaster response and either solo or group work. Your enhanced toughness and high tolerance will give you good sustain and allow you to serve as a reliable front-liner, while you also have the Finesse needed to reposition and be where you’re needed. Your conditional regeneration will allow you to be deployed often, and allows you to fight hard without needing to factor your own safety into account. Anyone else want to say anything?”
Think Tank cleared his two throats. “Let us be clear—yours is a low A. Your preliminary position in A-Rank is 378 out of 401. It is also important to note that it is just as easy to slip down the ranks as it is to rise through them. We’ve given you a big role to fill. Mess up once or twice and you’ll be down to B. With your independent status, consider yourself under extra scrutiny.”
“I understand,” Jacob replied.
“That being said, I agree with Starman’s assessment. Your skill set is basic, yes, but it’s solid, and a solid front-liner, especially one capable of acting without backup, will always be in high demand. Sort out your public persona and you might even rise to some moderate level of fame.”
“Thank you.”
“I was especially impressed with what I saw during the team battles,” said Red X. “You held your own against three opponents for some time, and even dislocated your own shoulder to keep yourself in the fight. You showed a lot of heart there. Well done.”
“Thank you. Again.”
And that was that. After a few closing statements and platitudes about his bright future as a hero, Jacob was bid to leave. Bob went in after him, the only one left. While he waited for the robot, Jacob caught up with Johnny, who was having a smoke outside Warehouse 4. The young man was leaned against a wall and looked up at the sun through the green tree canopy.
“Looks like we’re twins,” Jacob said, showing off the official interface message that confirmed his evaluation as an A-Rank.
“Whaddya know.” Johnny chuckled and took a drag off his cigarette. “I'm not surprised. I had a feeling about you, Jakey.”
“Flattering. Look, I have something to run by you. I’m starting an independent hero business, a hero-for-hire thing. We could use a back-liner like you.”
Johnny puffed thoughtfully for a while, then shook his head. “Nah. Sorry, Jakey, but I’m not interested. I’m not in the hero gig for quick cash—already got plenty of that. I’m gonna get famous, and you don’t do that by going mercenary. So I’m pretty sure I’m good where I’m at.”
There was no use arguing the matter. “Fair enough. Shoot me a message if you change your mind. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again someday, on the job or off.”
Johnny grinned so big his eyes became slits. There was something slightly sinister about it. “Oh, I’m sure we will, Jakey. I’ve got a feeling.”
They exchanged contact IDs, and Johnny ambled off along the Guild HQ campus with seemingly no destination in mind. Jacob watched him go, and part of him was relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with the cocksure bastard anymore, regardless of how useful his Blessing was.
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Bob came out shortly after that. He’d gotten a B-Rank.
They were all set.
*****
Jacob and Bob were still on the train heading back towards the hotel when they both got a message from Jennifer Fenway, the Guild rep.
The message congratulated them briefly on passing their aptitude tests and went on to explain that Hero for Hire had been approved for business and officially logged as a Heroes’ Guild affiliate. Fenway would act as their Guild liaison moving forward, and she asked them to return to Arcadia promptly, as she already had a job lined up for them. She would share more details when they could meet in person.
Well, that was quick, Jacob thought.
Not that he was complaining.
They ordered two takeout pizzas to the hotel as a victory treat once they got back. On Mr. Beau’s dime, of course. After that they immediately set out on the return road trip. Every time they stopped at a gas station, Sonny got out to throw up in the bathroom. Jacob was glad that he wasn’t one of the poor workers that had to clean that up.
They got back to the Sleeping Cat near midnight, and everyone except the robot went straight to bed. They were awoken at the ass-crack of dawn. Fenway had already come for a visit.
They gathered in what had become the bar and inn’s impromptu conference room, and Fenway immediately took charge of the proceedings, pacing back and forth in front of the table the others were seated around, her high heels producing a sharp click click with each step.
“I know I already said it once, but congratulations,” she said. “I mean it. Even for you, Mr. Farraday, despite anything I might have said to you in the past.”
Sonny jerked up from his drunken half-slumber at the mention of his name with an incredulous look on his face. “Hmm?”
“Yes, considering we share a somewhat checkered history.”
Sonny didn’t look any less confused.
“You do remember me, don’t you?”
“Uhh…” Sonny looked around at the others, as though they could bail him out.
Fenway stopped walking, and her mask of uptight professionalism dropped a hair. “Jesus, Tom. You actually forgot about me?”
“Uh, no, well…”
“We dated for six months! You got me my job at the Guild! Christ, Tom, I knew you were an asshole, but not like this. This is a brand new low, even for you. Did the booze finally rot your brain all the way through? And to think I was trying to be an adult about all this.”
Sonny tried to blubber out a response, but no part of it made any sense. He staggered to his feet and hurried out of the room, shoving past the Guild rep. A sour reek of alcohol wafted through the room in his wake, and the air instantly became more breathable after he slammed the door shut behind him.
Once he was gone, Fenway took a sharp intake of breath and gathered herself, the neutral mask settling over her features once more. “Sorry about that. I hope you can forget what you just heard. It was a personal matter, and will not affect your work moving forward.”
Jacob and Becca glanced at each other and made faces.
“Moving on,” Fenway said, clearing her throat. “Given the current hero shortage, the Guild has seen fit to approve provisional licenses for your active Users until you complete the course work and are officially certified. That means you’ll be able to start taking on jobs straight away, and as it happens I believe I have a suitable one.”
“All right, we’re all ears,” Jacob said with a nod.
“Good.” Fenway brought up her System interface and enlarged it until it covered most of the back wall. “During the urgek invasion, several high-risk prisoners escaped from the Sidewinder. Most of them have already been recaptured, but a small number are still at large.” She swiped her fingers to bring up mugshots of a pair of twisted, bestial faces. “These two gentlemen are brothers going by the names Hyena and Snapjaw. They’re villains responsible for nine civilian deaths, several hundred thousand in property damage, and several high-profile robberies.
“They were always blunt instruments, fairly unsubtle in their methods, but it appears they’ve wisened up after their stint in prison. They’ve been laying low, and the Guild hasn’t had the manpower to seriously attempt to track them down. Meaning it now falls to you, should you choose to accept the assignment. The Danger Rating is Gale, so appropriate for your current skill level.”
“What’s the pay?” Jacob asked.
“Ten thousand flora, and a 3 000 bonus if you capture them within three days.”
“Dead or alive?”
“Dead or alive.”
“Okay, good. I’m in. You, Bob?”
Bob shook his head. “I don’t think so. I believe we have a rat infestation in the building. I need to take care of it.”
“Figures. Well, suit yourself.”
“I would also like to inform you that hero work falls under a lower tax bracket, meaning you will only be taxed 20% for any hero work you do,” Fenway chimed in.
Jacob did some quick math in his head. As agreed, Mr. Beau would take a 10% cut on all jobs, meaning 30% off the top. If he managed to score the bonus, that meant he’d walk away with 9 100 flora.
Not too shabby, considering he had about 50 in his account at the moment. Enough to pay all the overdue bills with plenty left over.
“Okay, fair enough. Give me some more details on these jokers.”
Fenway swiped to another screen on her interface, showing a detailed biography for each villain. “Hyena is 32 years old, Snapjaw is 30. No living family members. There is a list of known associates, which I’ll send you along with their bios once this is done. They Snapped at the same time, supposedly, and they both have Symbiosis Blessings that increase their strength, size, and toughness.”
“I gathered the Symbiosis part,” Jacob said. Based on the mugshots, one of them was furry and sharp-toothed, while the other had leathery reptilian skin and a sharp beak. It wasn’t hard to guess who was Hyena and who was Snapjaw.
“They’ve been observed working well as a team. It’s advisable to either separate them or confuse them somehow. They’re not too bright, so all sorts of trickery and deception should prove effective. Just don’t underestimate them. They both stand over 2,5 meters and weigh over 200 kilos. Their raw strength is something to be feared. They’ve survived for years as villains, which is rare in their line of work.”
“Got it. I’ll be careful.”
“I’ll be available for consultation throughout the duration of your assignment, but don’t expect any backup. We’re stretched too thin as it is, and you’re an independent, meaning you’ll likely be deprioritized for rescue ops.”
“That’s fine.”
“Don’t forget about me!” Becca chirped in a sing-song voice as she spun in her office chair. “I’ll be in your ear the whole time, promise.”
“How reassuring.”
Fenway slid a hero crest across the table. Jacob took it and looked it over. It had ‘TRAINEE’ stamped across it. He almost refused to wear something that lame, but managed to keep it to himself.
He was too excited about his first job to be in a bad mood.
As soon as the meeting ended, his Hidden System updated with a new notification.
[ASSIGNMENT ACCEPTED: BEAK AND CLAW]
[OBJECTIVE 1: CAPTURE HYENA, DEAD OR ALIVE]
Optional: Complete in less than 72 hours
[OBJECTIVE 2: CAPTURE SNAPJAW, DEAD OR ALIVE]
Optional: Complete in less than 72 hours
[REWARDS: 10 000fl]
[OPTIONAL REWARDS: 3 000fl]
*****
Before Jacob could go anywhere, Becca dragged him down into the storage room in the basement of the Sleeping Cat. Bob had long since cleared away the urgek corpse that had once lain there, and not a trace remained of its sticky blue blood.
“Okay, what are we doing here?” Jacob asked as Becca flicked on the lights and ran off to fetch something. “If this is a prelude to something sexual, I’d like to remind you that I have a job to do.”
A rat scurried away along one of the walls.
“Nothing like that, you pervert!” Becca called from the back of the room. She came out with a bulky garment in her arms, and held it up to show a large, black trench coat.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Jacob asked.
“Your costume! Well, the beginning of one, anyway.”
“A trench coat? You don’t think that gives off a little too much, I don’t know, basement dweller?”
“Of course not! You’ll look cool in it. I’m thinking you can wear this and go shirtless underneath. Really sell the zombie look. And you can call yourself Zombie-Lad, or Zombie-Boy, or…”
“Lad? Boy? What’s wrong with Zombieman?”
“I think that one’s taken.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.”
“Hold on, I’ve got other ones. Change into that while I get my notes.” She threw the trench coat at Jacob and ran out of the room. He reluctantly did as he was asked, suppressing more than one sigh. He went and looked at himself in the mirror—to no surprise, he looked like either a male stripper or a flasher. He also noticed that his hair had gone more white. He’d end up an old man soon.
Becca was back inside two minutes, panting with her hands on her knees and a stack of notebooks tucked under one arm. “Okay… so…”
She went through more than two dozen names, most of which were unusable. The Pale Man. The Gray Ghoul. The Grim Wanderer. Gallowman. Mister Dead. Gravedigger. Graveman. Sepulcher. The Hanged Man. Those were some of the less atrocious ones.
“I dunno,” Jacob said. “It’s not like I’ll be announcing myself from the rooftops or anything. And it’s not like I have a secret identity to protect, either. Can’t I decide later?”
Becca pouted. “I guess… but that’s less fun.”
“I’ll pick a name soon.”
“Will you pick one of mine?”
“If it’ll make you happy, sure.”
“Pinky promise?”
They pinky promised.