It was another day of patrolling for Lester Rigby at the Big Hart Mall—the second largest mall of Recalm City. Dressed in his superhero costume, consisting of a blue jacket and a blue domino mask, Lester casually scanned the crowds. There were young people, old people, families, and groups of friends, all going somewhere among the stores, restaurants, and other types of businesses. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. But still, maybe today there would be some real action. Not just something like escorting a homeless person off the premise kind of action. No, real action. Superhero action. Like a fight with a real villain. But nothing too dangerous. Maybe a fight with some lesser villain like Baby Rat. Something where he could, after some hard-fought battle, emerge victorious—preferably with no major injuries and no collateral damage that he would be held responsible for.

  "Lester," a voice disturbed his thoughts. "Reality to Lester."

  Lester turned to look at the one talking. It was his crime-fighting partner Mark, whose superhero name was Sonic Eagle, but he went by Mark even in costume. The guy was a somewhat short and chubby fellow with big ears. He wore a yellow helmet and yellow overalls. Also, Mark had a genuine superpower. He had sonic vision, which let him see in the dark and also see through thin walls. The ability didn't have, according to Mark, a good resolution though, but he was still ranked as an E-rank super, which was better than his own ranking.

  "Totally focused," Lester said.

  "Sure," Mark said. "Only twenty more minutes left."

  Lester checked his phone. There was a timer there on his Valor and Justice App, and it had just dipped below twenty minutes. Twenty more minutes and his four-hour mall patrol would be at an end, and he would, when the app timer hit zero, get twenty dollars. A price for keeping the mall safe. Though, the money could be a bit better. But, if you really thought about it, twenty dollars for four hours of work was really the best an F-ranked super like him could make.

  "I think we need to find another source of income," Lester heard Flynn whisper, making sure no one was hearing. His second teammate Flynn was walking beside them in his judo outfit with a red karate headband holding his long hair. The guy didn't have any superpowers, but he was still registered as a superhero at F-rank.

  "Yep," Lester said, agreeing with his friend on the money problem. The problem was most definitely the app. The Valor and Justice app, when it was first introduced three years ago, had worked somewhat well, but it had quite quickly gotten really crowded, and the rates they were paid dropped every year. The truth of it was that there were too many heroes and too few jobs. This mall patrol job was basically the best they could get. Sure there were some nightclub bouncer jobs that paid better and sometimes would accept F-rank superheroes, but those could get really rough and dirty.

  "By the way guys," Flynn started, and as he said that, his walk became a bit more casual and a wry smile crept across his face. "I might have a job."

  "From the App?" Mark asked.

  "No, from another source."

  "A legal source?" Lester asked.

  "As far as I know. And it pays well. Two hundred for a couple of hours of work—for each," Flynn said.

  The two others eyed the guy suspiciously. Then Mark said, "So, what exactly is it about?"

  Flynn shrugged. "We're supposed to go to this place, and from there we're going to be taken to some other place to do some work. It's in the middle of the night, but I know the guy who gave this offer, and he's legit."

  "Yeah, I'm out," Mark said.

  "It does sound like a trap," Lester added, "We might end up as game for some rich dude's people hunting escapade."

  "Or maybe we might get dissected and sold as parts on the black market," Mark said.

  "Hey guys, it's just a job." Flynn let out a small laugh. "Not everything is about hero/villain stuff. For example, when have we ever fought a real villain. And I'm not counting the times when we just stood back, and let other superheroes do the fighting. And also, that guy who stole the sandwich doesn't count even though he had that silly name and had that rat thing attached to his back."

  Lester knew his friend had a point. Also, Lester really did need some extra money. At this rate, he would either have to sell some of his collectibles, or he would have to start working two shifts as a mall hero, which wasn't something he could mentally handle. But still, there were things that sounded too good to be true, and then there were things that just sounded totally bad. And this mystery job was definitely of the latter.

  "I'm still out," Lester said.

  ***

  As he was walking home through the city, Lester was troubled by thoughts about his powers. Even though he had gone to the machine at the city's superpower evaluation center, which was run by the Guild of Valor and Justice, and even though the machine had said that he had some sort of power or powers, he hadn't found out, yet, what they were. The people at the evaluations center said that he had a ninety percent chance of finding out in the first year. And it had been four years since. Four years of not knowing what one's powers were. He'd tried everything. He'd tried testing for lists and lists of possible powers and had tried all kinds of meditation techniques, and still, here he was, walking home powerless.

  Lester kicked an empty beer can from the sidewalk, sending it bouncing ahead. He saw the can clonk and continue on rolling to a stop at a chain-link fence. Maybe his power had something to do with kicking beer cans. That would be something. His name would then probably be Can-Kick-a-Can-Guy. That might be preferable to not knowing what power or powers he had. Or maybe he should just name himself Mr. Mystery Powers. Maybe play it up a bit, claim he had some kind of a strange probability power or something. Though, the Guild of Valor and Justice wouldn't most likely accept this without concrete proof, and he would still remain an F-rank superhero doing F-rank jobs for pennies. But still, if he didn't find out his powers before the end of the year, and it was September already, he would certainly go with the Mr. Mystery route.

  After a while of walking, the neighborhood changed, becoming more rundown. Lester saw graffiti and litter everywhere. This was, of course, the poorer side of the city, the side where he lived. There was only one positive thing about the neighborhood. It was the low rent. Hopefully, someday, he would be able to move to a nicer area.

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  A cry from an alleyway alerted him, and he glanced there. A group of thugs were beating on a man, who by the sickly looks and the skull face tattoo, was a drug addict and likely also a dealer. He most likely owed the gang some money. One of the thugs was standing in the alleyway, making it clear to everyone that he had a gun under his jacket. This was definitely not a job for him, Lester Rigdy. There were at least four people with guns, and all he had was his pepper spray. Maybe when he figured out his powers, he would do something about stuff like this, but not now. If he now stopped to help the poor druggie, he would most likely die.

  Lester continued on, pulling his hood further, hiding his face. His hoodie made him feel safer here. His superhero clothes were in his backpack. Those he definitely could not wear in this neighborhood. If he did, he would most likely get killed. Some gangstas here would see a lone hero as a challenge they couldn't resist. Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe the thought that he, as a lone hero, would have some hidden power, and all the bullets would just bounce off of him. That would be a big gamble. He had never tested if he had some kind of a self resurrection power.

  ***

  It was already dark, and after an almost hour of walking—because he couldn't afford public transportation—Lester finally came to the house he lived in. It was a three-story rundown apartment building, which rested near the edge of the city, next to where the electric fences, land mines, and automatic guns kept the wildlife away. This was, Lester knew, partly the reason his rent was cheap. He'd woken up several times to cannon fire. And there was a definite difference in the sound of an auto-cannon versus a small caliber pistol. The cannon woke you up with ears ringing.

  After he'd climbed to the second level via a metal outside staircase and was about to open his door, his neighbor's door opened, and the old guy living there popped his head out. The guy said, "You have a real problem there."

  Lester stopped, trying to understand the guy. Sometimes the old man said stuff that made no sense, and then afterward he figured it out, and it ended up being important.

  "And I mean like an angry problem for sure," his neighbor continued.

  "Okay," Lester said.

  "They come through the ventilation system or the sewers. They always get in. If they get you. Well, that is another thing entirely." Then the old man retreated and shut his door, leaving Lester there standing in front of his door and trying to piece the words together. It could have just been crazy talk, or it could have been something to do with the building maintenance. Anyway, he was tired now, and he would figure it out later.

  Lester put his key in and turned, clicking the door open. As he opened the door, a hissing scream came out from inside and something scratching came running. This caused Lester to immediately slam the door back shut. His heart pounded fast as he thought what it was. Probably just some animal. Maybe a cat or something. That had probably been what his neighbor had meant.

  After a while of standing outside thinking, Lester decided to try to catch a glance of what the thing was. Because his window was situated a bit away from the platform outside his door, which provided access to his place, Lester had to lean over a railing to look in. There wasn't anything there that he could see, but the angle of his vision to his apartment wasn't the best.

  Something slammed onto the window from inside, making Lester almost fall over the railing and down onto the street one floor down. Then it screamed again, with a sound between a firetruck and a strangled cat. And as Lester saw the thing in his window, it was indeed some kind of a cat with mangy fur with patches missing here and there. And the thing that was most notable about it was the extra head. A smaller cat head attached to the side of the thing's neck was screaming, constantly letting out a high-pitched meow that went up and down. It was definitely not a normal cat.

  Lester retreated and sat down behind his door. This was happening, he told himself. A monster had invaded his home, and if he opened the door, it would tear his eyes out. He should call a superhero. Superheroes did the extermination. No, it would cost too much. And also, what was he even thinking; he himself was, even if his rank was only F, a real superhero. And one small mutant cat would not stop him. This was it. He was going to fight. He would have his first fight against a real monster. And he would drive that monster out of his home.

  Lester took out his pepper spray, and all the while, his hand was shaking. Then he proceeded to open the door again. He fumbled with his key a couple of times but managed to get it in. After the click of the lock, Lester slightly opened the door, making only a crack of around a couple of centimeters. He said, "Here kitty kitty."

  The wailing hairball came skittering toward, and Lester stayed there, holding the door firmly. After a few seconds, it reached the door, and it noticed the small crack and started scratching it, trying to open it further, but this was the moment Lester had been waiting for. He pressed down on the pepper spray, spraying its contents through the narrow gap, hitting both faces of the mutant cat, making the thing back away. But now the cat's screams intensified. As the noise of the screams and the thing running around his house and breaking stuff carried to his ears, Lester started to have doubts. It kinda seemed like he'd just made the thing angrier. Maybe he should have thought up a better plan. Maybe he should have left an opening for the thing to escape. Maybe if he'd just silently opened the door and waited for it to go away. Yep, that might have worked better.

  Lester closed the door and sat back down leaning against it as the noise of the screaming and wrecking of his home carried outside. He sighed, thinking he should call a superhero now. This was definitely not a job for an F-rank super or even an E-rank. Also, most superheroes under C-rank wouldn't want to even risk coming to this somewhat dangerous neighborhood. All in all, a C-rank or higher superhero would cost something over a thousand, and he didn't have that kind of money, and he was already behind on rent. And after this thing, he would likely lose his security deposit. Maybe he should just open the door and let the cat out. After, of course, when it had stopped its pandemonium.

  Suddenly, Lester's window exploded into shards of glass as the cat launched through it out into the air. The thing fell down one floor, landing on its feet. From there, it started running away, screaming as it disappeared into the night.

  After a while and after recovering a bit, Lester got up and went inside. There he surveyed the damage. The damage to his one-room apartment wasn't that bad. His sofa had tens of new scratches, but the thing was already in bad shape, so he could just put a new sheet on top of it, and it would be okay. What was worse was the poop in his bed, and it was not the normal kind of poop. It was half liquid, and there were bones in it. He would have to throw the bed sheets and the mattress. In addition to those, there were a lot of broken cups and plates. The kitchen part of the room had taken a lot of damage. The cat thing had somehow been able to tear open the trash cabinet, emptying the bin and throwing its contents all around. And the bathroom was the most disgusting thing. It was like the toilet had exploded out. and there was gunk from the sewers all around. This was very likely—also corroborated by the fur evidence—where the thing had gotten in. It said something about the state of the plumbing down here that a mutant cat could crawl out from one's toilet.

  After he'd cleaned, taken all the trash away, and sealed the broken window with a tarp, Lester sat down on his scratched sofa. He felt really tired. The additional problem was that his rent was due, and he didn't have the money yet. He'd, in the past, gotten some extra time from his landlord, but now it might be different. His landlord might not be happy about what had happened here. Sure none of it was his fault—he was certain. But still, it was quite likely he would be blamed and thrown out. Or at best, he would have to live here now with that tarp on the window while the temperature at night got cold. In any case, he would most likely have to move. But he didn't really have any money, and he would definitely be losing the security deposit.

  Lester sighed. He took out his phone and dialed his friend Flynn. After his friend answered, Lester just skipped all small talk and said, "I'll take that job you were talking about."