Credit where credit is due: the Hero Agency had some top notch break rooms. I was sitting on a cushioned bench with my mask off, alternating between eating my sandwich and icing my shiner. I had gotten jumped by a low-ranking hero named Titan after I registered with the Agency. At first, I was terrified that my ruse had been discovered already, but that notion was discarded when Titan told me to, "Stay in my lane."

As I wiped the avocado bits off of my chin, two rookie heroes walked into the room mid-conversation and started helping themselves to the fruit bowl. The pair were jabbering happily about sponsorships, endorsements, and the like, prompting me to put my headphones on to block them out. This couldn't have been the Hero Agency, I thought to myself. This was like a fusion of reality TV and emergency services.

My isolation was interrupted by a note getting set on my lap. I looked up to survey the room, but there was nobody else around. I read the words on the note: "Room 0561". With nothing better to do, I tossed my lunch and made my way to the room in question.

The room was a storage unit on the same floor, thankfully. I stepped inside the room and saw about twenty-five or so heroes sitting on the various crates that filled the room. As I shut the door behind me and hesitantly approached, I said to them, "I got your message."

One of them got off of their makeshift seats and pressed a finger to my black eye. Instantly, I felt the pain subside. Once she pulled back, I sighed and said, "Thank you."

The woman nodded. "Don't mention it. I'm Anesthetic. I've got a proposition for you."

"Gonna go out on a limb and assume this is related to your little knitting circle here?"

Anesthetic chuckled. "Not much of a knitting circle. See that guy over there?" Anesthetic pointed towards a man dressed like an old school punk rock fanboy. "That's Powerchord. Hero Agency Insurance refused to cover the destruction of his guitar shop even after working for the Agency for three years. The weirdo next to him is Gnasher." A person wearing a full face dog mask waved energetically. "The Agency denied their request for an investigation into a kidnapping ring, despite the fact it was recorded in their own goddamn files that they got their powers from an altercation with said ring."

I looked over Anesthetic's shoulder at a woman in emerald body armor slumped against a crate like she was unconscious after a bender. "What about her?"

Anesthetic looked at where I was looking and sighed. "That's Saving Grace. Not my place to tell. You're gonna have to get her to trust you to find out."

"What about you? What's your beef?"

Anesthetic grimaced. "Same thing that brought you to my attention. A big, violent thing named Titan."

I winced and rubbed my arm. "Good reason. So what, this is some kind of resistance movement?"

"If you join, it will be. We got the drive, but none of us are leaders. You, on the other hand? I saw how you passed the practical exam. I saw you command those birds. You're what we need to take this to the next level."

"You're asking me to lead you?"

"I'm asking you to help us hit the Hero Agency where it hurts."

I fell silent for a bit. As I weighed the options, I eventually took a deep breath and replied, "Alright, I'm in. But if we're doing this, you need to know: there is nobody named Black Kestrel. I am, and always have been, the villain known as Shikkoku."

Anesthetic grinned. "Oh, I know. Why do you think I asked you in the first place?"