CHAPTER 017: Unexpected guest...

Back in the lobby, The ventriloquist painted his puppet's nails.

"Gee, I bet that former rock resident flunked out by now. What do you think, Wicked Witch?"

The doll's mouth opened, and a scream only he could hear echoed forth. He giggled, but his fun was soon interrupted by blaring siren rising from the middle of his desk.

"Ugh, why does an S-class have to show up when I am on duty? I thought I did a good deed for the day!"

He tapped the alarm, shutting it off, and immediately made a series of calls to different departments. Like a kicked hornet's nest, employees poured out from back doors everywhere; the janitors cleaned, men in black trucks cleared the road, and hot secretaries lugged a gigantic red carpet to the entrance.

A black 1970's Caprice turned onto the road and, seeing the road blocks, its driver nearly crashed. Surprisingly, the vehicle wasn't shot at, instead everyone just worked faster. The car sped to the entrance, its driver practically falling out the second it parked.

"Oh my god, no! I am just coming to check mail! Please, don't make a big deal out of it!"

His outfit was a garish mix of colors and fabrics: tweed flat cap, wool overcoat, cashmere vest, velvet slacks, even square toe dress shoes! Thankfully, the salt and pepper haired man was at least in great shape; if not, people would fear being around such a disaster.

"But we got fireworks and everything, mr. the John..."

"What? Why? You don't want me to make a speech or something crazy, right?"

"The manager will dock our pay if the cameras don't show us doing a proper greeting, sir."

"Oh, really... I guess maybe just a little wouldn't hurt. Could we skip the fireworks, though?"

Seeing their sad faces, however, the poorly dressed hero immediately relented.

"Okay, just one or two."

"Yay! We welcome you, S-class hero 'The John'!"

He handed his keys to a nearby valet, entering the building with defeat in his eyes. His sidekick, giggling in a monotone tone, followed him.

Due to the heels on her costume, she was actually a smidge taller than her mentor. Though, compared to the outfit itself, this is barely noteworthy.

It consisted of a black leather catsuit, thigh high black heel boots, and a domino mask. Thankfully, her sporty figure and cold demeanor prevented it from looking completely outrageous.

"Dmitri, could we take the extra fireworks back to the secret lair?"

"Please don't say my secret identity," the John said with a sigh.

"Oh, sorry Dmitri. Why not use the S-class entrances, if you hate this so much?"

"Because its much easier for big wigs to 'accidentally' run into me if I go through those."

"Why not buy one of those private terminals, then? You have the money, Dmitri."

"I said don't... Nevermind, we'll talk about that later. I could never get through the manual on those things, let alone use them."

"So that's why butler Sergei always sits in front of the computer..."

The two reached the mail room, so she stopped grilling her mentor to open the door for him. A small group of people, led by Drill Sergeant Drill-bit, was also there. They were over by the wall terminals, and their heated discussion still was audible despite those being across the room.

"What do you mean I can't join the freshman 15 with this!?!"

The John, hearing this, turned to his sidekick and asked,

"Oh yeah, how's goes your training for that?"

"Very well, but the lack of sparring partners is a concern."

"Hrmm... Might as well throw my weight around, I guess."

5 MINUTES EARLIER....

Logan entered the area for people who passed, only to find them all goofing on their phone. The feral child was not here, presumably having someone else to do this for him. Logan took a seat with the other new heroes, taking a flip phone from his pocket.

"Oh god, what is that?"

"I think it's a phone."

"No, that can't be! Where's the screen?"

"Is it that little thing?"

"How can you play floppy bird on a screen so small?"

"I can't play floppy bird on this," Logan commented, hearing everything. The other new heroes, who at this point were crowding around his phone, gasped in shock.

"You poor thing," a voice in the crowd said with genuine empathy. Finally, Their proctor exited training room 12; Logan wanted to kiss him for such a timely intervention, but decided to settle for not blackmailing him.

Little did he know, Drill-bit would probably initiate the former if he knew the man's decision on the latter.

"Firstly, I'd like to congratulate everyone here. As of right now, you are all provisional license holders! We are going to a terminal room now to register your hero names."

They arrived at the terminal room, its clutter surprising many of the new heroes. The ceiling was filled with clear plastic tubes; they snaked across it, terminating in a series of lockers on the other side of the room. The terminals they'd be using, meanwhile, were crammed into a corner. It's clear their inclusion was an afterthought, as their power cords were out in the open for anyone to trip over.

Logan, halfway through entering his pick, suddenly had a dangerous thought.

"I wonder how much this place knows about us?"

"Don't do it, disciple. We just got out, why turn ourselves right back in?"

"Relax, I think our proctor will be eager to answer..."

He turned from his terminal to face Drill-bit, causing the latter's knees to grow weak.

"Excuse me, Drill sergeant. I wonder if you could do me a big favor?"

"Oh god, he knew! I'm ruined," the proctor thought while cursing his fate.

"I needed help with my hero name, I'd really appreciate your advice..."

"Oh, just that? I mean, of course! Normally, I'd charge for this; consider it a congratulations for you passing the exam."

"Thank you so much, Drill sergeant!"

One of the other new heroes then raised a hand.

"Proctor, I could use help too."

"Scram!"

He yelled at the kid without a second thought, before returning his attention to Logan.

"So, did you have any ideas? It's good to have several, as your first choice might be taken."

"Oh, I didn't think of that..."

"Yup; in fact, my first choice wasn't the name I go by. I originally wanted to go with 'dino wrangler,' but seeing dino wranglers 1 through 37 already taken, I changed it."

"I have a few actually, Drill sergeant. My favorite is 'horny hare'!"

"... I don't think that'll work. The system has a clear PG-13 filter when it comes to accepting new hero names."

"Really? Would 'Randy Rabbit' work better?"

"It's creative, sure, but has the same problem..."

"Hrm, well there was another... No, it's too silly!"

"Just tell me, it might actually be good."

"Well my mother always said that, if I worked hard enough, I could run across the stars... So I was thinking something like star runner... or maybe star child?"

He watched the proctor's face closely, and the results didn't disappoint.

"Umm you know what, let's go with one of those rabbit themed names. After all, your costume already has the rabbit motif. Going with a name like that means you'll have to change costumes and everything; simply too much hassle, if you ask me."

The growing flop sweat on his brow, however, proved other reasons existed.

"Thanks, I appreciate your assistance... I really owe you one, now."

The wink he gave the proctor, however, suggested anything but that.

"Oh by the way, can we use these to submit our entrances to the freshman 15?"

"What? No, of course not."

"So I need to go somewhere else...."

"No, I mean with your license, you can't enter."

"WHAT! What do you mean I can't enter with this!?!"

Despite Logan's rude outburst, the proctor didn't retaliate.

"The freshman 15 is for new heroes; your provisional license is considered 'sidekick' level. You still need to pass a 3 month mentorship program, just like driving."

"Does that mean the feral child won't enter, either?"

"No, his handlers took care of all this paperwork ahead of time for him."

"Umm, I think I might be able to help here," a voice from across the room called.

"Who are you?"

They asked the intruder upon their argument the same question, but it was Drill-bit who corrected himself.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't realize it was you," he said, looking ready to beg for his life at this point. Logan, however, was more confused than anything.

"S-class hero 'the John'? Why are you here?"

"Uhh, I'm checking my mail..."

"Can't you afford to just build a mail room at your house? Why mix with us riff raff?"

"Ha ha, It's fine, it's fine. Put away the gun, Drill-bit. Can we talk about a proposition of mine... In private... For a second?"

"Of course," the proctor responded, his head screaming all the while.

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire! Just who did I piss off today to get such bad luck?"