The problem with living in a place like City Z these days, more than the lack of reliable plumbing, heating, or medical services, was the way it wrung a person out. Day after day, week after week, year after year with no end in sight. At first when things had started to get bad ten years ago, people had rallied around the idea that if they only stuck together and kept the hope, that things would turn out okay. The city ran campaigns about "togetherness", Shelter No. 7 had opened, and there had been the unshakeable belief that all of this would be a bad memory someday.

Now; a decade down the line and the only people who actually believed that were the corporate drones and neophytes who lived in the city center, the only place left mostly untouched by the devastation of repeated monster attacks. The kind of people who would look you right in the damn face and say 'it's not that bad you're just overthinking it' and actually have the unmitigated gall to believe it. The city liked to brag that it still had a sizeable population, the news ran stories about relief efforts and new buildings being put up constantly, but that was nine tenths a lie and one tenth wishful thinking. Truthfully, things were only getting worse.

When Mizuko's childhood home had been destroyed she'd held out hope like anyone else, run to the shelter dragging Andrew behind her as the block went down in flames. Huddled under an emergency blanket with her friend (concussed and reeling) she'd feverishly read pamphlet after pamphlet; 'what to do after a monster attack', 'government aide and you', 'how to recover after the unrecoverable'. Back then she'd thought she could win any battle, climb any mountain, overcome any hurdle. Now she had no such illusions, no real hopes, only the stubborn determination to fight against fate until it dragged her to the grave kicking and screaming. The house she grew up in had been the first but it wasn't the last. She'd never made it more than two years in a place before it wasn't habitable anymore for some reason.

When she had first moved to the tent city springing up in the old warehouse district near the river after her last apartment had been demolished she had assured Andrew 'only for a little while' and she had believed it, when the concrete wall of a shattered overpass near the entrance of the small settlement had started to be covered in posters for missing people she had just been happy it wasn't anyone she loved, and when she had been forced to light a candle at its base for Andrew's younger sister she had finally given up the little bit of hope she had. The makeshift memorial hadn't broken her, but it had broken Andrew so thoroughly and completely that even now two years later he refused to say her name or acknowledge what had happened.

The memorial hadn't been anyone's plan. Like most of its kind had simply, sprung up. One poster had become two, two had become ten, and within a month the concrete slab had been overtaken. In time it had become a fixture of the slum, sometimes quiet with reflection sometimes buzzing with energy. Placed right next to the biggest 'road' in it was impossible to miss on even a bad day, towering up four meters

Every weekend the local minister led his congregation down and sat in silent reflection. Every few days a new candle or a new poster appeared. The smell of incense and cloves never seemed to leave the area, a thick perfume that clung to hair and clothing. The ghosts of the departed reaching out with wispy hands to leave any trace behind they could. It was a constant reminder that every day more people died, more went missing, and nothing and no one seemed to be stopping it.

If you listened to the optimists the Heroes were the way this was going to be solved. More than ever they flocked to the city to try and make a name for themselves fighting the ever-increasing number of monsters that reigned nearly unchecked in many of the city districts. But the heroes were a flashy solution for a much more sinister problem. For every person saved a home was found empty with no explanation its inhabitants simply vanished. For every alien invasion halted hundreds of thousands died in the collateral fallout. The city was a dead man walking, and anyone who lived in it who wasn't blind knew it.

Andrew's clinic was in an easily accessible area of the lower basin, nearer to the center hub than hers (much nearer). It wasn't a particularly long walk to her tent but it was one she was going to make quickly while the sun was still up and hopefully before the rain clouds in the distance finally rolled in and let go. When people had realized that the hard-packed dirt 'roads' in-between the buildings and larger tents in the basin area had a tendency to flood during heavy rains they had tried to install wooden "walkways" in the more highly trafficked areas; but even those were quickly overwhelmed. So she hustled quickly away from the clinic mind set on dinner almost immediately.

Mizuko paused at the bottom of one of the dirt ramps which lead to her terrace section turning to look out over the Shantytown she now called home. The sun was just starting to set and lights were winking on here and there, in several places' fires had been started for cooking and the shrieks and cries of children echoed from around the makeshift park in the center of it all. The 'town', such as it was, was a hodgepodge of ramshackle buildings made of re-purposed materials and the thick dark green canvas tents which were sometimes used to house "displaced" people when real homes couldn't be found. The settlement was built partially into the side of a large toppled office building that had met its end at the hands of a Demon Level disaster four years ago. At first people had just built or pitched in the shadow of the building- using it to weather the large storms that sometimes swept in but over time as the settlement grew, they had expanded out and then finally up. MaraMara, one of the local teachers, had a small Talent to manipulate earth and with help and time she had managed to slowly build the earthen terraces that connected the basin to the collapsed edifice allowing the small shanty town to expand into the building itself.

Those in most need, families with children or the elderly, were the ur-inhabitants of the more secure sections of the building; living inside of sideways conference rooms and offices. The larger work floors had been divested of their cubes and turned into community areas where they could. The rest pitched their tents down in the basin or on the terraces wherever they could. The result was hodgepodge, probably a fire hazard, and certainly much louder than most people wanted but it also worked. Well- worked in the sense that nothing had burned down (yet). The jury was still out on the relative safety of the place. People were often robbed, anything expensive and pawnable had the tendency to go missing, and fights weren't unheard of. Like anywhere else the shanty was a microcosm of humanity writ large, just with more canvas tents and less all-out war.

Mizuko had moved her tent from the bottom of the basin last year to the very edge of the highest terrace, perched on a thin sliver of earth at the end of the pathway the tent was pinned in by sheer drops on two sides and a slab of concrete on the other. It was drafty, the path to the front was prone to losing chunks anytime it rained, and frankly it kind of smelled like moldy books- but that was probably just the tent itself. They hadn't really ever intended on being permanent shelters and after a few years most of them were showing their age.

Closing her eyes, she let the noises and smells of her home wash over her. It wasn't a lot but it was what she had. Turning back, she began ascending the terrace at a slow walk, nodding companionably to the people she passed. Many of the men and women moving around her were dressed in work uniforms or office-ware with a smattering of more casually dressed adults, teenagers, and children throughout. Most of the people who lived here were gainfully employed- despite what the local politicians liked to say. What media attention the Shanty did get was almost entirely negative; with the police and city politicians being the most vehement and vocal opponents. If you believed them the place was filled to the gills with criminals and drug addicts just waiting to spill out into the more well-maintained areas of the city. In reality most of the people who lived here just couldn't afford anything else or had grown tired of pretending their lives were ever going to go back to normal.

Government shelters were overcrowded, cruel, and predatory. They often charged exorbitant fees to remain in them after the sixty-day period guaranteed by law. By comparison the shanty-town only asked people to be sanitary and not cause trouble at home. What you did outside stayed outside and you had best keep it that way or run afoul of any one of the many people around who were spoiling for a justified fight.

Taking a right at the last plateau- skipping over a few puddles and holes - Mizuko paused for a moment to untangle the knot holding the flaps to her tent closed. She'd had a lock for a while but once she'd lost the key three of four times and been forced to cut her way in and then repair the holes, she'd just given up on maintaining the illusion of safety it gave her. She'd just decided to keep a bat next to her bed, a motion sensor alarm pointed at the flaps that was synced to her phone, and pay a fat bribe to the retired old man who lived closest to keep an eye on her stuff while she was out.

The motion sensor was a bit of a stroke of genius and she knew a few people had co-opted the idea since she'd rigged it up. All you had to do was find and cannibalize a preexisting unit (easiest to scavenge from free standing retail stores) and lash it to the top of the center tent pole - sensor pointed outwards towards the flaps. Then anytime the flap was opened and the small beam of light interrupted the chime went off. Mizuko had a department store model that played a very off brand version of a classical Brahms tune. A few people had managed to modify the song the alarm played but she'd grown used to the wonky off tune bell tones and had no desire to usurp them.

Slipping inside as the bells chimed above her, she tossed the bag of food onto her cot and her backpack next to her desk. Flipping the camping lantern, she kept hanging from the center pole on to give a little bit of light in the cramped interior she let the flap fall shut behind her. The tent itself was one of the standard olive green "refuge" tents given out by the city after major crises and she'd not really done much to change the size or layout. Some people had Frankensteined more than one tent together for more room or installed "windows" by cutting holes into the thick canvas and sewing in translucent plastic panels but Mizuko hadn't felt the need. As the light flickered on, she passed through to the back of the tent to open the rear flaps. Mindful not to lean too far out as she tied the strings off - lest she go tumbling down the sheer drop- she moved to let the last lingering light of the day in. In the distance above the nearby semi-ruined financial district some sort of bird wheeled lazily through the cloudless sky a bank of ominous grey clouds rolling in from the sea behind it.

After that it was quick work to stuff the meat she'd grabbed in one of her double stacked mini fridges (top for liquids, bottom for edibles) and get started on preparing her dinner. Her room didn't have anywhere near enough space for her to manage something grand but her desk/counter had a large enough top to set up a cutting board. A few diced vegetables a day or two riper than she'd like, chicken stock she'd begged of the Liderman's two rows down, a few cubes of meat, and some water ladled out of the basin at the foot of her bed and she had a small stew going in a pot on top of the hot plate (which was in turn on top of the mini-fridges, unsafe but efficient in a tent as small as this one).

She let the whole thing simmer as she cleaned and then settled in at her desk, the only other piece of furniture besides the cot. Other than these two fixed items the entirety of her life was carefully put away in blue plastic containers stacked up to the sloped ceiling. It rained so often and so heavily here that having anything out and unprotected that couldn't stand the damp was a gamble; and while the mini-fridges were expendable her books and clothing were not.

As the soup burbled and boiled (metaphorically not literally) she efficiently pulled her laptop out of her backpack and set up shop at the desk. It was the most valuable thing she owned, and it went everywhere with her. She couldn't risk her biggest source of income 'going missing' or her single form of non-literary entertainment. The computer wasn't old but it also wasn't new, the screen was scratched and a few pixels on the upper left corner were dead but it worked.

The internet connection out here was spotty at best and non-existent at least once or twice a week but it was still around which was frankly better than they could have hoped for. Sure, she spent most of her money on the wifi hotspot she was currently setting up but damn if she didn't care. Priorities. Computer now out and starting to boot up she figured she should probably get down to business, and business right now was finding out who Saitama was so she could accurately direct her current hate boner.

Opening a search engine, she banged out a few possible keywords: "Saitama" Hero City Z @chirrup.

Now some people might judge her for going straight to social media but hear her out. If no one else had anything Chirrup would, people's dogs had Chirrup accounts. Entire chirrup accounts only existed to re-chirrup pictures of Heros in action or try and spot them in everyday life. It was incredibly stalker-ish but, hey, in this case it might be useful. It would probably have been a little more advisable to start with a more general search and then start trolling websites like Chirrup but Mizuko had the feeling that if she did find any info on Baldy in a general web search it probably wasn't going to be all that in depth. Andrew, while not a font of hero information, was about as plugged in to the whole thing as most average citizens. If he hadn't known the name or description the guy had a pretty decent chance of being either 1) not a hero 2) Unpopular AF or 3) very new. In any of those cases the stan culture on Chirrup was 100% more likely to have information of value. It was also probably going to be like 90% thirst chirrups because well it was Chirrup and what semi-famous and/or heroic person didn't have a feed with a weirdly uncomfortable amount of random strangers saying 'step on me daddy' or 'RC if you think [x] would be good in bed :fire:eggplant:drool:.

Pressing enter with a quick keystroke she reached out to stir her food with her right hand and then under the desk with her left to grab a pack of chips from her 'not-so-secret secret bad for you food stash'. On the laptop screen the loading dial was still going, skipping lazily backwards and then forward. Face scrunching up in dissatisfaction she leaned back in her chair to wait. Legs up and under her butt, bag of chips snapped open. The ultimate internet surfing relaxation pose initiated.

SAITAMA-CHAN3 @saitamaman

Are you ready for my newest video? :winkemoji:eggplantemoji:tonguemoji:peachemoji:

F3M3N1N3MYSTIQU3 @allihargroves

@saitamaman Daddy's newest vid co-stars Genny Hale!!?!??! .Mmmmm my two favorites :eggplant:peach:tongue: Sign me up

SomaSomaDoma @JakeP245

@alihargroves @saitamaman

[Video insert of a fully erect penis w/censor bar: wink emoji: Follow me on Paytreon for the full video! I hope to someday be as famous for f* as my hero is! : tongue emoji:fireemoji:100emoji:

The face journey she went through in the seconds to read the series of chirupps was probably oscar worthy. Confusions, surprise, shock, intrigue, amusement, and then disappointment. So, the only Saitama on Chirrup was a professional porn actor, and judging by the fact he had a lot of hair in- she clicked his profile picture and let out an astounded whistle- yea a whoooole lot of places he was not the guy she was looking for.

Keywords: Baldy, Bald, Shiny Dome, Chrome Dome, Cue Ball, Ghost Town, Triangle Q Grocery

Keying up the next search seems to go even slower than the first time 'round. Maybe there were even more porn stars named Saitama and it was struggling to find them all. Or the guy had lied about his name. All very logical and well thought out possibilities. While it processed, she set to finishing up her dinner, flipping the burner off and reluctantly standing, abandoning her half-eaten bag of chips next to her laptop. Her first stop was the closest stack of plastic storage boxes next to the mini-fridges. She'd thrown her clean Supperware in one of these things last week and its wasn't like she's was going to eat all this soup in one night so she was going to be a good adult(tm) and put the excess away to eat later (maybe lunch, it reheated well...).

By the time she'd gotten all that sorted (soup bowl front and center, legs back up in the chair, and chips cradled in her lap like a particularly precious child) the search was mercifully done. The universe must have felt bad for her because the first link is a hole in one. The chirrup is a blurry shot of Saitama from behind walking down a street next to, she narrows her eyes and leans in, some other guy with extensive mechanical work on all of his extremities. The geotag on the picture indicates it was taken near the Triangle Q, the store she and Saitama had so recently fought inside of (only- in the background of this picture it still existed), which along with the content of the hashtags must have been what caught the chirrup in her search.

The caption read "#CBSpotting on 16th & Hesse! Looks like he's out with #DemonCyborg again!? #IWantToBelieve #Baldyborg".

Okay so wow apparently Baldy kept up with one of the hottest most sought after heros of the last five years. Even she knew who Demon Cyborg was, you'd have to be living in an actual cave cut off from all human contact to not know about him. Not only was his face constantly all over the news but a year and a half ago no one had even known he existed and now he was an S class Hero. Stuff like that just didn't happen. Until it did. One of those once in a lifetime wonders. How did someone like Saitama know someone like Demon Cyborg, and know him well enough to, what? Just hang out and go shopping?

She clicks #Baldyborg and has to take a moment to lean back and just contemplate the universe.

Saitama knows one of the most popular, powerful, and sought-after hero's because (if Chirrup can be believed) they're dating. Her feed is filled with picture after picture of the two men together in situations both domestic (Shopping, Walking, Riding the Bus) and possibly-romantic (out to dinner at a Thai place, huddled together under an umbrella, laughing together in front of a movie-theater). It only takes her a few more links to find Demon Cyborg's Chirrup profile, slick and professional and she'd bet run by some PR corp. It's filled with links to merch and people @'ing him for what appears to be advice on engineering projects (endearing as all hell cause the kid is apparently nineteen and likes robots). It's a treasure trove of information about Demon Cyborg -real name Genos- but under the picture is what she is really looking for:

Professional Hero @HeroAssociation

Engineering Fan (@me your robotics questions)

He/Him

Merch Available @OniiPsyBorg

Disciple of Saitama

Disciple? What did that even mean? She imagined Baldy meditating under a mountain streams and blanched, no way the guy was any kind of guru. Gurus were nice, baldy was annoying and somehow both apathetic and pretentious at the same time. Not a good look on anyone. Saitama appears to have no Chirrup profile, or not one that can be linked back to him and other than the single line mentioning him in his bio Demon Cyborg's feed has no pictures or chirrups about Saitama. Although it is unclear if that is a conscious decision on the kids' part or his PR teams. Considering Saitama's bad attitude maybe the hypothetical PR team was keeping a tight lid on any possible relationship between them, for whatever unfathomable reason.

Backtracking to the #Badlyborg tag she scrolled mechanically down the search feed. Most people were using the shipping tag #Baldyborg along with the #IWantToBelieve hashtag on pictures that had both Saitama and Genos in them. From their it isn't too hard to suss out Baldy's super name was-

"Caped...Baldy?!" she dropped her spoon with a clatter into the bow (mostly empty now) and started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Oh my god!" she groaned - grabbing herself round the middle squishing her chip bag against her chest, "Oh my god that's such a shitty hero name! No wonder," she snorted in glee, "no wonder he didn't use it!"

Oh, now this was perfect, now she just had to look him up and then she could get started on an epic Chirper chirrup storm. This was going to be emotionally satisfying on a level heretofore unseen, this was going to be frankly amazing. The amount of material available on the name alone, CAPED BALDY. Wow. He had to have pissed off someone in the HA.

The hero directory was publicly available and while the UI was awful and the search interface clunky it worked for what it was. It didn't take long for her to pull up Saitama's directory page and then she kind of had to take a pause to metaphorically ascend to troll heaven because not only was his name stupid he was also wearing some kind of kinky latex one-piece suit in the worlds least fashionable mustard yellow.

Scooting her empty soup bowl to the side she leaned forward with a positively feral grin on her face.

It was shitposting time.

--

Somewhere Underground – City Z

"Again?" the voice whined from behind him, "he really did it again!? Why was he even their man?! Who even shops at chain supermarkets anymore?!"

Anagawa turned and raised an eyebrow at his companion.

"Lots of people." he said sedately as he began the process of turning his many coils and loops around, segmented hide rasping quietly against the rough floor of their den. "I remember I used to shop at one." He remembered the little bodega with its red counter. They had sold his favorite brand of cigarettes, menthol lights. And they had one of those machines that turned hotdogs and taquitos over and over to keep them warm. Come to think of it he might be confusing a grocery store and a gas station, but in his defense, he couldn't remember most of his life pre-coiling. Monstering? Transforming?

"Yea well I for one!" The other monster said raking a hand through the tentacles on the top of his pseudo-head, "am sick and tired of this guy! Why isn't anyone doin' anything about him? Guy just keeps fucking us all over man! They won't even listen!"

"They have a plan I guess." Anagawa hazarded slowing to a halt- finally completely turned around. His body was mostly just...heavy now. Heavy and hard to move, especially when it had been so long since he ate well. His companion, Mie, was the hyperactive murderer to his creeping eldritch horror. It was why they worked so well as a team. Mie was angry and liked to kill - Anagawa was too hard for Mie to kill and to placid to really care when Mie made the attempts. It worked, sort of. Not that they were very popular with the Monster Association these days. They'd been banished to the farthest reach of the associations control and basically told 'sit still, keep killing, don't do anything remotely intelligent'. While this notion suited Anagawa just fine Mie, who didn't particularly like listening to anyone, had only been won over by the unchecked license to murder and the posse of monsters he was promised to coordinate said murders with. Mie spent all of his time planning to kill and Anagawa just sort of existed in the same place soaking up the terror Mie produced while occasionally writing long winded reports. Boring, but livable.

Things had been fine until Caped Baldy had shown up. One day they'd been having a merry old-time sicking newbie monsters on unsuspecting townsfolk (Mie) and sunbathing (Anagawa) when Baldy had shown up, stared vacantly, and then annihilated all six of the monsters under their banner with about as much effort as small sneeze. Mie had been livid and ever since he'd been scheming up increasingly over the top ways to murder the hero. Each and every one had failed spectacularly. The evil rolly-polly bugs, the oversized toilet who was also sentient, the twin snakes, the nightmare demon, and even the deranged office worker who could phase through walls.

Mie, furious, had recently hired another freelance monster to make a last-ditch attempt. The Monster Association had a strict no outside hires policy but Mie wasn't really in the mood to care. The monster, a huge behemoth with giant claws that could rend steel and a hide not even Mie could hope to pierce had been their last-ditch effort. If anyone could kill Baldy it would be that guy.

He hadn't.

So here they were several hours later; Mie incensed and Anagawa wanting a snack.

"How many reports have ya sent 'bout him?" Mie demanded.

"Seven." Anagawa rubbed a claw down his belly and wished he had a taquito.

"And have they done anything?!" Mie was in a fine fury now.

"Told us to leave him alone?" That had been in the first reply and every single reply thereafter. The MA obviously knew Baldy existed and just weren't doing much about him at the moment. Anagawa assumed they had better more interesting people on their 'to kill' list. A guy who slummed it in Ghost Town and was a nuisance to the monsters they only let in on a technicality was, presumably, not really high up on their list of concerns. The last he had heard was that they were still focusing on the S class hero's, something about killing people's hope? He didn't really understand to be honest.

Mie was still pacing – Anagawa wondered if after a few years of that kind of thing if Mie would leave a groove in the dirt. Mie was a habitual pacer, he had said once that he saw it in a movie and the main character looked cool so now he was going to do it too. Anagawa wasn't sure how pacing was cool but also, he didn't care, it took too much effort. He titled his massive head and lost himself momentarily in a daydream about a competitive reality TV show based around pacing (how would you judge it? Do you get points for style? What about pairs pacing?) when Mie lurched to a stop. Anagawa, startled by this sudden change in momentum, stopped thinking at all and stared instead. Processing multiple things at the same time was not one of his best attributes.

Whirling around Mie slammed a closed fist savagely into his open palm.

"I got an idea!" he crowed, "oh this one is so good!"

Oh, now this was dangerous, Mie with a good idea was like gasoline on fire.

"What ab-?"

"Never mind your opinion Anagawa this one is AMAZING."

"Is it-?"

"Do you remember the girl?!" Mie interrupted eyes gleaming in the low light of the den.

"The -girl?"

"Yea yea!" Mie plowed on, "The pretty one with the long hair and the backpack!"

Anagawa considered that statement raising a finger to his lips and thinking back to the video which Mie had insisted they watch on repeat for the last few hours. Come to think of it Anagawa did remember a pretty dark-haired girl who'd-

"She hugged him?" Anagawa said triumphant to have remembered such a small detail.

"Yea, yea yes! And he saved her life! Without even flinching in the face of danger! They were so passionate! She stuck to his side the moment she saw him! She must be his girlfriend! Only girlfriends argue like that!" Mie seemed positively glowing with this pronouncement.

Anagawa thought maybe he should remind Mie that Caped Baldy was probably dating Demon Cyborg if the office watercooler gossip could be trusted and that they had no idea what the girl and Caped Baldy had been talking about. The drone they had used was a knockoff brand from Teibo and cost less than a good chalupa meal. It wasn't even equipped to pick up audio much less broadcast in high enough fidelity to read a relationship into the fight.

"Uh I don't-"

"So, what we're going to do!", Mie pronounced back to his pacing again but looking gleeful this time, "Is we're gonna get to him through her!" He turned and threw his arms out as if the presentation of this plan was a fun surprise. He waited a beat staring expectantly at Anagawa who after a moment brought his claws together in a quiet tap tap tap of applause. Mie pleased by this brilliant plan swept into a bow and then curtsey.

"I know I know. I'm amazing."

"Well uh," Anagawa said, "I still don't know if this is a good plan we don't really know if they, uh, like each other."

"Fool! Simpleton!" Uh oh Mie was winding up. "You unmitigated nincompoop!" Oh, yea there was the flash of the blade he'd been waiting for. "My plan is UNSTOPPABLE! FENDISH! AWE INSPIRING!!!"

"Yea." Anagawa said as Mie launched himself into a feverish attack on one of his coils. It didn't even pinch and it made Mie feel better so Anagawa just let him wear himself out as he ranted. "Yea sure thing Mie, it's uh...a great plan. Uh but just... what is the plan? Shouldn't we talk about it."

Mie's eyes flashed.

"Gonna' do some kidnappin' and torture Anagawa! Old school style!"

"Oh sure." Anagawa supplied, "Whatever you say Mie."