One Punch Man: Attitude Adjustment

Chapter 1: New Job, New Name

What defines a hero? A questions asked by many that has probably been answered in just as many ways. Some believe it is a trait that belongs to only a special breed, others think it resides in those with grand ideas and the ability to see them through. To some, it is simply defined by strength and whether or not that so-called hero is powerful enough to get rid of anything that might be considered a threat.

A similar question in this conversation revolves around motives. What makes a hero decide to put their lives on the line for the sake of others? Is it because they feel they have no choice or a moral code that compels them to do so? Does selflessness define every heroic act or are some merely done to take in the praise and rewards from an adoring crowd?

In this case, a hero is made out of pure chance. A random meeting with a special person lead a man who thought he had nowhere left to go down a new path in life. He worked hard to achieve this new goal, leaving old habits behind and training his body more than ever before. He was already strong, stronger than most in fact. But this man knew that if he was really going to follow the words left by the one who drove him to become a Hero, he could not afford to hold anything back.

After 101 days, the Hero test is taken. Never being an academic, his written test scores are mediocre but his physical test results more than make up for it. He grins while wiping the sweat off his forehead as he looks down at the paper with his official class C ranking.

The work was...annoying at first. He couldn't stand the weekly quota Class C Heroes had to keep up with to stay employed and other, more attention hungry members of the association just made him sigh and shake his head. But despite these nitpicks, he managed to rise up in rank rather quickly thanks to an advantage most in his new line of work didn't have.

For most of his life, he knew how criminals of all types think. This made catching thieves, finding drug dealers and all sorts of other crimes easy to solve since he had first hand knowledge about how they would tend to play out.

Months go by again, and his hard work managed to get him up to Class C rank 11. As he walked through the crowded T-City street with his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket he wondered thought about getting into Class B by next year. He tries to take his mind off work by enjoying a double stacked, extra cheesy burger but only gets to enjoy a few bites before the sound of nearby screams interrupted his meal.

Dozens of people were quickly running in one direction, which made it easier to find what exactly they were all running from. As he got closer, black smoke rose from what looked like a ruined building and at least one turned over car. When he finally arrived on the scene, there was no need to guess what was causing all the trouble.

"Hahaha! That's it you weaklings, run!" The monster shouted with a hearty laugh and a deep, booming voice. "Try to escape before I crush you all!"

It stood almost eight feet tall with clawed and three-toed feet, a massive frame wrapped in brown scaly skin. A triceratops shaped head with two long horns protruding from the forehead and a smaller spike set just above his nose. The only clothing that was on were a tattered pair of green trousers with the lower half of the pant legs hanging on by threads. This made his hulking physique even easier to see, which made all but one person run away in fear.

"Oh...now what do we have here?" The monster said as he looked down the street to see a lone figure standing in the otherwise empty street. "And just who might you be? Come to die by the hand of the mighty Triceraman?" He asked while clenching his fists.

"Nope...just here to do my job." The man said casually as he took off his leather jacket and tossed it onto the hood of a nearby parked car. "And you're my new client." He said with a gravely voice as he brushed back the loose hair on his face, taking off a black bandanna from his neck to tie around and cover the top of his head.

Now intrigued, Triceraman looked this human up and down to study him. The man looked like he was about six and a half feet tall, with a broad and muscular body that showed he wasn't weak but the gray in his short mane of hair along with his scruffy beard also showed this wasn't a person in their prime. His skin was somewhat tanned, with a noticeable amount of hair covering his arms. Seeing him approach wearing nothing more than boots, blue jeans and a gray T-Shirt made Triceraman believe he must be dealing with nothing more than a local tough guy who wants to gain fame and fortune from slaying a beast.

"I saw men like you before...back when I was a pathetic human." Triceraman said with a wicked grin. "I was a paleontologist, one who loved dinosaurs more than anyone else in his field. I always dreamed of what it would be like to have their size and incredible strength, and how good it would feel using them to destroy all the people who kept me down in life!." He bellowed with rage, thinking about all the people he couldn't wait to kill. "But look at me now, I've become my dream and nothing in this world is going to stop me. That includes an over zealous fool like you!"

Triceraman suddenly rushed towards the man with his head hanging down so his horns were sticking straight ahead. He had used these horns to pierce through the side of cars and sturdy concrete walls with ease, so he knew that impaling a mere human wasn't going to be a problem. That's what made it all the more shocking when the man he charged stood his ground and grabbed the horns just as Triceraman was about to collide with him. Two trails of split concrete were dug in for ten feet of road from the mans heels digging in as the monster pushed him back. Using all of his might, he stopped the bi-pedal dinosaur in his tracks and kept a firm grip on the horns with the veins in his arms and neck bulging out from the strain.

"Is that all you got?" The man asked through gritted teeth.

"W-What?!" Tricerman said as he tried to pull his head back, but couldn't no matter how hard he tried.

Leaving no time for the monster to break free, the man quickly moved from holding the horns to getting his arm over the frill on Triceraman's head so it could fully wrap around his neck in a headlock. The other hand took hold of the monsters waist to make it easier for the man to lift the monsters whole body off the ground before he quickly leaned back and slammed Triceraman's head all the way into the pavement with a pro-wrestling style DDT that left a small crater in the middle of the street.

The sudden impact hit the monster hard, almost to the point of concussion. After some moments of pained confusion from not being able to see, Triceraman realized it was because his head was completely planted into the ground. With a mix of rage of embarrassment he pulled his head out of the street hard enough to also pull up a spray of gray dust and small rubble.

"That's it!" Triceraman said, his head still looking down at the hole it was just in. "You're de...!"

After looking up, the monster saw no one. He looked to the left and saw the same thing but when he looked to the right he had just enough time to see the soles of the mans boots. With a running start he had thanks to the time it took the monster to get back up, he was able to land a powerful drop kick directly into Triceraman's face. It sent his large body flying down the road and crashing into the window of a luckily empty flower shop. Most of the floor was covered by the monsters unconscious body, blood trickling from his mouth along with his clearly bent and broken nose.

After hearing one last, loud crash in the distance people nearby realize the noise died down completely. After a couple minuets, the few braver civilians poked their heads out to see what was going on. After they did, these civilians would be quick to tell others that were hiding what happened and that created a crowd who began to form around the monsters unconscious body. As more showed up, they were pointed towards the single man who was responsible for this.

"Is he a Hero?" One of the onlookers whispered to a friend beside her.

"I think so, but I don't recognize him." The friend replied as they watched. "And he doesn't really...look like one"

Once a monster is defeated or a major crisis is dealt with, many heroes would take time to address the crowd to say that was no longer a need to be worried. Others just used the moment to brag about what a good job they did to grateful and adoring fans, hoping it will help raise their rank in the association. This man did neither of those things, he didn't even face the crowd. He was likely too busy keeping his foot pressed down on Tricerman's neck while he checked to make sure the monster wasn't going to get up again any time soon.

"Well, if this doesn't get me another rank up I don't know what will." He said after feeling certain that the monster really was unconscious. He used his hand to brush the dust off his shirt and pants as he turned around to finally notice how many people have gathered. "Oh...great." He mumbled under his breath sarcastically.

"Th-thank for saving our lives!" A man said nervously, which started a wave of gratitude that quickly took over the rest of the people there.

As he listened to all the compliments and thank yous coming from everyone around him, the man just approached the crowd to politely ask them to part so he could walk down the street. He had no intention to stay, and would have just walked away if a man who looked like a college student didn't put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Hey, hold on man." The young man said. "Aren't you gonna tell us your Hero name so we know who rescued us?"

"I don't have one." The older man said after a soft sigh and turning his head to look over his shoulder. "Just call me Randal."

With that said, Randal walked away from the crowd with nothing more to say. He went back to where the fight first started so he could take his jacket off the car hood where it was left. As he heard police sirens in the distance getting closer he slipped the jacket back on. Reaching into a hidden pocket, he pulls out a sliver flask with the initials R.D. labeled in real gold on the front of it. He takes off the cap and tilts his head back, taking a big swig of whiskey as he waited for the police to arrive. Once they did, he would report what happened with members of the previous crowd speaking as witnesses. Some stuck around, hoping to get a picture or an autograph but they would leave disappointed.

With the report complete and his job done, Randal walked for a while before arriving at the cheap apartment/basement that he called home. Four days worth of dishes were sitting in the sink, the couch had a dozen duct tape patches all over it and the apartment lacked anything resembling decorations exact for a handful of old, worn out rock concert posters hung on the walls in frames. After a quick shower, he watched the news to see what other heroes might have gotten up to that day before heading to bed. As he went to sleep, Randal wondered if he would eventually get a message about increasing rank by a few numbers. He had no idea that what he did was already being discussed.

Late into the night, members of the associations executive members were meeting to discuss recent hero activity. For the most part, there was nothing too unusual to report. Nothing except for another handful of monster bodies found with no clear story about who or what it was that killed them. The only other report that stuck out involved a single hero operating in City T.

"Are we certain this was a Tiger level threat?" Asked a woman with short, black hair and a blue tattoo under right eye.

"Our scientists are still examining the monster that called itself "Triceraman", but initial studies have shown the same expected strength and muscle density found in many similar Tiger class creatures." Replied a man with brown hair, silver round rimmed glasses and a green tie.

"If that's true, this guy could prove useful in Class B." A with shaggy black hair and a short, stubbly beard commented.

"The test scores from the application show that he's strong, and his age could mean that he has years of experience to offer..." A rather tall man with a metal, prosthetic eye said in a matter of fact way as he took the file in front of him and gave it away to be passed around the room. "But from I see, we may have to be concerned about him."

"Hmm...you do have a point." The Bearded Worker said as he looked over the file while it was in his hands.

The information on the he file had all the basic information given to the association by their heroes.

Name: Randal (A.K.A Randy) Hogan

Age: 52

Sex: Male

Blood Type: O-

Place of residence: T-City

Height: 6'5

Weight: 283 Pounds.

Below this personnel data were the physical and mental scores Randal achieved during his exam, along with a few eye-witness reports about his ability in the field. None of this stuck out to the committee as much as the underlined special notice put at the very bottom of the page.

"Subject has confessed to multiple criminal acts in their past and involvement in more than one formally active criminal enterprise." The short-haired woman said as she read the report, using a tone that showed just how unimpressed she was. "Is this really the type of person we want in Class B? How was even aloud into the program with a rap sheet like this?"

"Actually, I had a hand in making that decision." The Bespectacled Worker replied with his left hand raised.. "I was one of the three committee members that met to discuss his...special case."

"And what made you decide to give the old man a chance?" The short haired woman asked, raising the eyebrow just above her tattoo.

"Did he give a big speech about wanting to reform?" The man with the metal eye asked, still not entirely convinced either.

"No, nothing like that. To me at least, he seemed quite genuine about what he had to say. All the information given to us about his past was confirmed by police and various other sources. Besides that, when we asked why he wanted to change his ways and become a hero he simply said he wanted to prove a certain person right when they said he could do better." The Bespectacled Worker said.

"Was that someone a wife or a family member of some sort?" The Bearded Worker asked, his curiosity peaked.

"He wouldn't say, but It seemed like he had to swallow his pride just to admit that much." The Bespectacled Worker said with a soft smile, thinking back to the day he saw a man change the Worker's initial opinions in just one conversation. "That's why I am in favor of promoting him to Class C Rank 1 with the option for promotion. I believe he could become a great asset and example for the association if we allow him the opportunity."

There was a brief period of silence in the meeting room as the other committee members took their time think about their own decision. On one hand, a person of Randal's strength could be a much needed addition to an already stretched thin roster of heroes fighting on an almost constant basis. But on the other, if this mans not so clean past were to surface again while part of the association it could prove to be a serious problem. A problem that they were well aware already happened once before...

"I will second the proposal for promotion." The Bearded Worker said formally to everyone before looking at the Bespectacled Worker. "You've been proven right before, so I'll trust you this time."

"Thank you very much." The Bespectacled Worker said politely, nodding his head to his work colleague.

"I'll support the decision as well." The man with the metal eye said after looking at the file one more time and then tossing it on the table in the middle of the four of them. "With monster attacks starting to rise, another Class B would be a welcomed addition." He said in a very matter of fact way again.

"Hmm...fine then, I'll make it unanimous." The short-haired woman said without much enthusiasm. "But if this ends up being a mistake, it will be you who pays for it." She said sternly to the Bespectacled Worker."

"I understand." The Bespectacled Worker replied. "To me, the risk seems worth the potential investment. With that said, the only thing left to decide will be what to call him."

With the vote passed, the meeting was adjourned and the hours passed on into the day. With his quota met for the next week, Randal decided to spend his first day off with a walk down to the beach to stroll through the shoreline. After that he got lunch and a drink at a diner he had been to hundreds of times. He grabbed a newspaper on his way home to see if his fight with monster yesterday to made the new and it did, on page 12. The front page was just that pretty boy Amai Mask promoting some new rom-com movie he was staring in. Every time Randal saw this guy on a poster, movies or the news the same thought popped into his head.

"Why have mask in your name if you're not even going to wear one?" Randal thought as he kept walking home.

Before heading back to his apartment, he stopped to at the complex entrance to check his mail. Besides a couple of bills, he noticed a letter from the Hero Association and was quick to open it. After skimming through what the letter said, Randal couldn't help but grin. The letter stated he was officially ranked Class C Rank 1 and he knew exactly what that meant. Now knowing this, Randal only had one thing to say.

"Bout time."

His promotion meeting was shorter than most, Randal made it as clear as can be that he wanted to move up in rank and finally get rid of the weekly hero quota. The committee members brought up Randal's past, and just like before he didn't bother denying anything.. Though he wasn't part of the group approving his promotion, the Bespectacled Worker who spoke in Randal's was watching everything from a hidden window in the room next door.

"Well then Mr. Hogan, everything seems to be in order. You are now officially Class B Rank 102." The short-haired woman, who sitting in the middle of the table for the promotion hearing said. "Not only that, but we also put your new official hero name into our system. It will be what the general media calls you and will appear in the next edition of our official hero guidebook." She said just before handing Randal a piece of paper from the desk.

For most of the meeting, the Bespectacled Worker watched with a content smile. Even though Mr. Hogan seemed a bit rough around the edges, he was still showing at least a bit of respect to the committee members he was speaking to. Everything seemed to be going just fine until Randal opened the letter and read what he his new hero name was. His expression quickly changed and so did the Bespectacled Worker's, his feeling of content was now one of mild concern.

"Are you...freaking kidding me?!" Randal said, not hiding how angry he was. "You want me to run around, fighting monsters and risking my life while everybody calls me Savage Senior?!" He asked while crumpling the paper in his hand.

"It was a name chosen by the committee. We believe it provides a simple, easy description of your look and overall skill set." The short-haired woman replied with cold indifference.

"My look? Just how old do you corporate clowns think I am?" Randal said, even more upset than he was already. "I am fifty-two, when the hell did that become old enough to be considered a goddamn senior citizen?!"

"If you really don't like it, you can file an official request for a hero name change and the committee will discuss at a later date. But with more important matters often coming up, I can't promise it will be changed any time soon." The short-haired woman said with a rigid stare, making it clear just how little she cared about Randal's complaining.

Randal was about to speak, but knew if he said what else was on his mind it could be enough to get him removed by security. Instead, he just dropped the crumpled ball of paper on the floor and walked towards the exit. As he watched this, the Bespectacled Worker wiped a bead of worried sweat from his forehead. It wasn't exactly what he hoped for, but the new Class B hero he invested in could have looked much worse.

With his mood ruined, Randal first stop after leaving the promotion meeting was the nearest bar. He was sitting at the counter, three bottles down in the last half an hour before the young, blonde-haired woman working behind the bar decided to say something.

"Trouble at work honey?" She asked after handing Randal another beer, she had worked behind a bar long enough to know when someone came in to drink away their problems. "Or is it a domestic issue?"

"Work." Randal said with a sigh before sliding a bill across the counter. "Just got promoted."

"Oh my...how terrible." The bartender said with obvious sarcasm and a confused look on her face. "What kind of work is it?"

"I'm...a Hero." Randal said after taking a moment to decide if he actually wanted to answer that question.

"No way!" The bartender said after a quick gasp of excitement. "You're with the Hero Association?! That's incredible, and I never would have guessed since you don't look...um...well..."

"Heroic?" Randal asked with an irked tone before taking an extra long swig of beer just to portray the type of bitter old drunk this woman probably thought he was.

"Oh no, not that at all!" She said frantically, worried she about to make a Hero and one of the only customers she had all day walk out. "I'm sorry, but most of the heroes I've seen have some kind of flashy costume to go with their name. What do people call you?

To Randal, that was the worst question he could have been asked at that moment. It didn't just make him think of people constantly calling him that ridiculous name, but also what might come next. He might have to wear a costume, then they might make him pose for one of their TV segments and after that it might not be long before they want him to walk around with a giant Hero Association logo on his back.

"Savage Senior..." Randal said, sounding just as depressed as his head laying on the bar counter made him look.

"Oh, I don't think I've heard of you." The young woman said, wiping the bar counter to pretend to be busy while she waited for the best time to ask what she really wanted to know. "So...have you ever met Amai Mask? I'm a huge fan." She said while smiling from ear to ear, her cheeks bright red as she thought about how handsome Amai Mask was.

Randal didn't answer the question, he just picked up the bottle and finished his drink. After that, he left enough money on the counter for a decent tip before making his way out the door. It was not long before Randal found a park and a bench to have sit on. As soon as his back hit the wood on the bench, a thought he'd been having for a while decided to slip out again.

"What am I even doing?" Randal thought as he was resting on the bench, his elbows resting on top of it while his head leaned back to look up at the storm clouds starting to roll in. "Construction, security, transportation...any one of them would have been enough. But no, I had to go the extra mile like always and try my luck at being a Hero."

As Randal kept watching the clouds slowly pass by he wondered if he should just walk back to that promotion committee and quit. The more he weighed out the options, the less clear it was about what to do next. Getting rid of dirt bags and literal monsters felt like a worthwhile to do, but the thought of being caught up in a hero popularity contest put a bad taste in his mouth. In the past, Randal had done work that put his life in danger before with little worries about himself. But this was different, this was a job where regular people were the ones at risk. If he wasn't able to beat the monster, or stop the bad guys, or run into that burning building just in time...

"Umm...excuse me." A small voice said while tugging on Randal's pant leg.

This was enough to pull Randal out of his thoughts, he looked down to see a boy no older than six or seven standing beside him. The boy wore a black hoodie with a small thunderbolt symbol of the left side of the chest and "Lightning Max" written on the back in bright yellow. He also had a newspaper in his hands, turned to page 12.

"Is that you mister?" The shy boy asked while pointing at the photo of Randal standing next to an unconscious monster.

"Yup...that's me kid." Randal replied, trying to sound enthusiastic without much success. "Did you want a picture or an auto...huh?"

Randal was cut off when he felt something being put on his lap, he checked to see what it was and was pleasantly surprised to find a chocolate bar sitting on his knee.

"Thank you for stopping that monster, it almost hurt my mom." The boy said cheerful smile. "Bye." He said while waving his right hand, he almost ran back to his parents who were watching from close by but stopped half way when he remembered something. "Hey mister, what's your Hero name?"

For a moment, Randal felt the aggravation coming back but then he looked at the chocolate bar again and relaxed with a deep breath.

"It's Savage Senior, Class B Rank 102." Randal replied with a slight hint of a smirk, he tried to make it sound official but that was never a demeanor he could pull off very well.

"Whoa...Class B." The kid said with wide eyes, wondering how strong Randal must be since he was in the same rank as really cool heroes like Wild Horn and Gun Gun. "Well, bye Mr. Savage." He said after hearing his parents calling for him.

Randal picked up the chocolate bar and slowly took it out of the wrapping while he focused on the kid running back to his parents. He could see just how excited the boy was as he talked to them. The parents looked over and Randal and gave thankful waves and nods. Randal waved back to them all, saying a quick goodbye before the mother took the little boys hand and the family started making their way home.

"I'll admit, Mr. Savage doesn't sound half bad." Randal thought to himself as he enjoyed the first bite of the chocolate bar.

Now that he was out of his annoyed frame of mind and had something to satisfy his sweet tooth, Randal decided to take a moment to think over other things about his promotion. Things like what to do with the extra pay, whether or not he should try working with other Heroes and just how long could he avoid working without a quota before the association sent him a formal complaint. Who knows, if Randal kept this up he might finally run into the man who convinced him to become a hero in the first place.