Chapter Two

Pushing past a group of teens, my feet rushed beneath me. Wind swooshed past my face and tousled my hair. My strides were long and quick—nearing that of a sprint.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't be going this fast, as I liked to pace myself during the 10k runs. This was an exception.

A quarter of a block away was a man of average stature. His hair was hidden beneath a dirty gray hoodie and his face covered by a plastic ghost mask. Despite his heavy frame, his speed was nearly the same as my own.

He glanced over his shoulder and flinched at the sight of me. "What the hell man! Sure, I tried to pickpocket you, but you didn't have any cash! What's your deal?"

The criminal spoke the truth, having attempted to rob me earlier today. Since it was my morning run, I didn't have my wallet on me, so I didn't lose anything. But the same couldn't be said for all the people around me.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" I shouted back with indignation. My path was set and it was my duty as a hero for fun to help citizens in need.

I could hear him panting, overexerting himself to carry the amount of goods he stole. His backpack was full to the brim and even as we ran, he would sneak his hands into the pockets of bystanders.

"Uhg! Fuck this-" Letting out a cry, the pickpocket began emptying his pockets of the heaviest objects. Things like jewelry, phones, and watches.

Gasping, I ducked underneath a haphazardly thrown neckless that exploded into a thousand pieces behind me.

With each item that left his person, the criminal grew slightly faster. I came to the realization that if I didn't push myself in turn, I would be left in the dust.

To reach my limit; to then go further beyond it. The criminal was fast- too fast.

He should've been an Olympic champion, not a pickpocket! What a waste of talent!

Swallowing my rage, I put the energy to the more productive act of catching up. My steps became longer and my arms swung faster. I refocused my breathing for maximum oxygen intake.

My legs screamed for me to stop, but I ignored it. My lungs cried for reprieve, but I didn't listen. My throat croaked in exhaustion, but I forged on!

With one last effort, I pressed into the ground and lunged. I soared, feeling weightless, as though I could fly.

I crashed into the man, knocking us both to the ground. Knees were skinned and palms scraped, but in the end, the criminal was apprehended.

"Uhhg…" The criminal beneath me must've had the air knocked out of him, judging by the wheezing sounds.

Standing up, I took the backpack off the guy and tied the ends of his sleeves into a knot. Satisfaction spread through my body as I smiled.

A citizen to my right whispered to his friend. "Hey, isn't that the cape, 'Pick-Pocketeer'?"

"Oh, the D-class villain? I heard he's a minor striker/mover. How'd he get caught by some dude?"

Looking down at the man, I reappraised him. Oh, so he's a parahuman. I guess that explains it.

"I also heard he has the highest bounty of all the D-class. That guy struck gold."

I pretended to not hear that tidbit. It wasn't like I was doing this for the money. Or that I even considered chasing this criminal because I heard he had a big bounty on his head. Or that rent was coming up and it'd been a month since I last paid. No siree.

Grabbing the parahuman by the scruff of his neck, I made my way to the police station with money (not) on my mind.

"So you chased down the criminal?"

"Yes."

"The criminal, who is a known mover with record speeds topping at forty miles per hour. Fifteen miles per hour faster than the current unpowered human record?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

The officer in front of me rested his face in his palms and groaned. "This is so out of my jurisdiction." We were in some sort of office. Or maybe an interrogation room. I wasn't entirely sure.

After bringing the criminal and his stolen items, the police were quick to restrain the man. Unfortunately, they had to verify a bunch of stuff regarding the reward.

At first, it was simple paperwork like my name, age, social security number (which I didn't know) and my identification. Then they started asking really odd questions about my home life, daily activities, any major stressful events in recent history, and so on.

The door to the room creaked open and another officer spoke. "Uh, sir. The PRT along with the hero arrived for the criminal."

The officer in front of me perked up at the mention of 'hero'. "Do me a favor and take me to the hero. And Mr. Saitama? Please wait here a moment, it won't be long."

"Okay." I leaned back into the chair to get comfortable.

After the first ten minutes, I grew bored and resumed my training regime. I worked through the squats and was on my 78th pushup when the hero finally arrived.

"Excuse me…" A hero clad in red stepped into the room. He paused when he saw my current position.

Grunting, I stood up. "Sorry about that. Just trying to get in the daily exercise."

Closing the door behind him, the hero simply smiled. "No worries. Now, you must be Mr. Saitama, the one who brought in the villain?"

"Yeah, that's me." I nodded along.

"I'm Velocity." He brought his hand out to shake, which I met in kind. I made sure to regulate my grip since Velocity had no brute powers, if I recalled correctly. "Congratulations and thank you on behalf of the Protectorate and PRT for catching the Pick-Pocketeer. While he's listed as a D-class threat, that doesn't make him any less harmful to those he affects."

Velocity checked his wrist, only to chuckle at the absence of a watch. "Sorry to keep this short, but heroing is busy work. We'd love to talk more about this event, so if you have the opportunity, give the Protectorate a visit."

Pulling out a business card, he handed it to me. "And if you're interested in professional hero work, you know who to call." With a good natured salute, the hero left the room.

Well, he wasn't so bad. I glanced down at the card. Professional hero work, huh. Shame I can't look into that, not being a parahuman and all.

I stood there for a second longer. Wait, where did he pull the business card from?!

oOoOo

It was a clear and sunny day outside. Birds were singing and children were laughing.

So why was it that I was tied to a chair in a dingy warehouse?

"So you fell for it. The oldest trick in the book." From the shadows stepped out the most stereotypical gangster I'd ever seen.

He was a short man with pale skin. A large trench coat covered his three piece suit. Looking behind him revealed even more mobsters of equal cliché.

"You're telling me, boss. Who even falls for the free pizza van?" A long faced blonde man commented.

The mob boss hummed in agreement. "Only one person could ever fall for that trick. Isn't that right… Mike Bobaguard?"

Who?

"It took some time to orchestrate this. You're a slippery man, Mr. Bobaguard, but we knew you couldn't resist the chance to get the best pizza in the bay." The mobster walked forward to look down on me. "You've caused us a lot of trouble, terrorizing Pacino's Pizza Parlor, which also happens to be a front for our illegal enterprise. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"So you're gonna tell us who hired you and what their aim is. Was it Coil, or maybe the conniving Typhoon Family from Boston? If we like what we hear, you might get out… somewhat intact." The gangsters pulled out an assortment of knives and guns. Weapons in hand, the group posed like they were ready for a photoshoot.

There was a moment of silence as the group waited for me to speak. Then, my stomach growled. Sighing, I stood up, ripping the rope with ease. The mobsters jumped back in surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but if there's no free pizza, then I'm outta here."

Turning around, I started making my way to the nearest exit when I heard the clicking of hammers. "T-take one more step and we'll turn you into swiss cheese."

Glancing over my shoulder, I honed in on the mobster's eyes. "Is that a challenge?"

He smirked in response, a bead of sweat running down his chin. "It's a promise."

This… this was a very unique opportunity. Never before had I fought opponents armed with guns. Could I even reach them? Could I withstand the pain of being shot? Could I go beyond and simply dodge the bullets?

My blood pumped and I knew this was a do or die situation. Bringing my fists together, I cracked my knuckles.

"Then you better be ready to break that promise-!" The building rumbled, cutting off my sick one liner. Before the mobsters could react, the ceiling tore open and six figures descended in flashy fashion.

The gang brought their weapons to bare when the blonde man let out a shout. "Shit! It's New Wave!"

Bullets flew and lasers pierced. A cacophony of noise reverberated in the warehouse and the building shook further. A scrawny man with sunglasses dived behind cover. "Why are they here?! Did someone leak our plans?!"

While that was going on, I slowly continued back to the door crouching low. I ignored the stray bullets as I pulled at the emergency exit. Closing the door, I heard one last shout from the mob boss. "Damn you Bobaguard! I'll get you- even if it's the last thing I do! Or my name isn't Don Pacino!"

What a drama queen. I dine and dash one time and these guys throw a hissy fit. I even paid for the meal the next day! People have no respect.