DemonKingAkuma

My name is [REDACTED]. 

I was just a normal, job-seeking guy who had just finished his undergraduate study and was hopeful of becoming a useful member of society. However, the job market in this current economy was quite harsh, and competition was at an all-time high. Thus... I remained unemployed for almost half a year.

As usual, I was on a job hunting spree, hoping to finally find or land a job that would hire the poor me. 

However, fate had other plans for me... and I died, getting run over by a large truck.

I thought I was dead, but... I soon woke up inside a test tube, surrounded by white-coated scientists in a dimly lit laboratory. I was confused, as I realized that my body, from head to toe, was covered with some sort of dark material that fit my skin quite tightly, as if I was wearing a skin-tight suit from a superhero comic. But... I wasn’t a superhero.

“Good morning, Subject... No... Grunt No. 703.”

I was just one of the supervillain's Grunts.

Reincarnated as a Grunt No. 703

Here I was... facing hordes of senior veteran grunts like a lone survivor against an army of zombies... (which, technically and unironically, I was more of a zombie than they were, given that I had actually died once and got revived).

Sweat dripped down my brow as I dodged and countered their relentless assault. How long could I stall them? They showed no signs of slowing down; if anything, their attacks grew fiercer with each passing moment... or was I starting to get tired?

These veteran grunts from the Arena Ring racketing group surged forward, their collective roar deafening to my ears. I ducked under a wild swing, pivoting to land a solid punch on another grunt's jaw. The impact sent him sprawling, but I knew he'd be back on his feet soon. Another lunged at me, and I twisted away, narrowly avoiding his fist.

The Disciplinary Squadron has Arrived!