In a random alley in Zalcien's slums, an odd yet usual scene was taking place. Between decaying walls of grey, yellow, and green, each and every one of them covered in some form of moss, parasitic plant, or the occasional mound of pulsing flesh, stood a group of six people. Or rather, a group of five and a singular person.

The odd one out was pretty easy to notice: the frogman's smaller stature, his muddy rags, and his green skin clearly contrasted with the five other's black leather attire, their full bodysuit giving them a punkish look further enhanced by their black scarfs around their mouths, their aviator's helmet and glasses and the overall overuse of small spikes on their clothes.

Well, there was one exception. Whereas the other four's costumes left their identity secret and gave them a more androgynous look, the fifth had a few modifications. She was clearly a human woman, her head being totally uncovered, unlike her comrades, letting her long red hair flutter slightly in the small amount of wind that made it through this part of the slums. While black was still the primary color of her suit she had a few red streaks here and there, including a small design that looked like a crudely painted rose on her chest.

That very same woman was currently displaying a grin as she talked to the small amphibian man before her.

"I'm afraid you're missing the point here, buddy. You owe us your life, ya know?"

"What?! N-no! You're just threatening me!"

The woman snickered while the four people accompanying her stayed perfectly motionless behind her, their sight completely locked onto the small shivering green Cored they were clearly mugging.

"Oh, 'threatening' is a big, mean word. No, we're just teaching you how things work around here: we kick the bad guys out of here and you pay us as a thank you. If you don't pay, well... Accidents happen, ya know?"

"But I didn't ask anything!"

She scoffed.

"Neither do you ask for the air you breathe, yet you still need it, ya know? So pay up or me and my friends will have to go through another round of laundry, and blood is a nightmare to get out of my hair and their scarfs, ya know?"

"Leave them alone!"

All six people turned to their right - or rather to his left for the frogman - and took in quite the sight. A teenager, judging by his height and voice, covered in white cybernetic armor, emitting flashes of blue light here and there. While the four identical henchmen stayed motionless, the woman flinched, fear reaching her eyes for a few seconds before she took in the time to get a better look at the armor and noticed a few quirks.

The helmet, which she had thought to be a simple white smooth surface leaving a pair of openings on the side to reveal black mechanical parts, was actually much rougher than at first glance. The "mechanical parts" were in truth headphones, what had seemed like metal was only plastic and the part covering the eyes was only a small veil. Such little details appeared everywhere on the suit, in fact, even the materials' whiteness seemed fake, the woman realizing all of it had been simply painted over.

In short, this "armor" was only a bunch of pieces of junk strapped together with a few pretty lights here and there to look more real. To think she had even been worried for a second there.

"Oh? Some kiddo wanna play hero? Looks like you'll get to have some fun today, boys!"

""Ah!""

The four men shouted at once to answer her, their voices being eerily similar and in sync. At once they began to move, walking toward the teen like a singular entity and getting ready to fight.

"I'm not a kid! I am Techlord!"

Techlord jumped high in the air, much higher than a normal person should be able to, and dropkicked one of the four masked henchmen, sending him directly into a wall that he impacted at high-velocity judging by the thundering crash that followed.

The other three henchmen looked at their comrade, his body halfway through the wall he had just been launched into, before turning their gaze to the small thing that had done such an act. Even the woman and the frogman couldn't stop their jaws from dropping. Sure, that wasn't the most impressive thing any of the persons present had ever seen but considering the attack came from what looked like a kid playing pretend with his DIY Halloween costume it was still worth a raised eyebrow or two, even more with the surprise factor.

Techlord rushed onto another henchman, raising a fist that began emitting small blue sparks before quickly punching the henchman in the face, or at least trying to. The man caught the teen's fist with his own before it suddenly began to release large amounts of electricity into the man even through his leather suit, his body beginning to shake and fume before he let go of the teen's hand and fell on the ground without a sound.

The last two henchmen looked at each other before nodding and sprinting on each side of their opponent, each one pulling out a black smooth dagger from a hidden pocket on their side and throwing it at Techlord's head, the white armored vigilante immediately pounding on his chest with his right hand, making his headphones release a burst of kinetic energy each, repulsing the daggers back at the men who quickly found themselves with a blade embedded in their chests.

Unfazed, Techlord aimed his attention back to the woman who, for some reason, was still grinning despite her companions' defeat.

"Not bad, kiddo. Not bad at all. Sadly for you, we have a job to do, ya know? Boys, let's have a blast!"

She snapped her fingers and suddenly all of the fallen men got back up, one still covered in rocky debris, the second still fuming and the last two taking the blades out of their chests.

"What the-"

Techlord's eyes widened behind his improvised helmet and he dove to the ground, not bothering to finish his sentence as the woman who so far had done nothing unleashed a geyser of flames right where his head had been a few seconds ago.

Before he even had the time to get back up the four henchmen were already on him, the fuming one kicking him up into the air while the two stabbed ones punched him at the same time, one in the back and the other in the torso, stopping his fall in time for the dusty one to dropkick him into a wall.

As his back impacted the wall, Techlord couldn't help but let out a cry. His DIY had proven to be surprisingly resistant, barely affected by the last few attacks, but the same couldn't be said for his body. This was the main weakness of this kind of armor, they didn't offer much in terms of defense against blunt damage.

Stunned as he was by the hit, the teen tried to get up to keep on fighting - something that only resulted in failure. He couldn't move, stuck sitting against the wall as his hazy vision grew clearer and clearer, letting him see how quickly the man he had tried to save cowardly fled away from the scene now that the thugs' attention was on him.

He was almost strong enough to straighten up when he saw a fireball forming in the woman's hand. Is this how it was going to end? His first attempt at doing good thwarted without a drop of sweat being shed, without really making a difference?

As he closed his eyes to save himself the pain of looking directly at his death, he heard a voice.

"Stop!"

He opened his eyes to find a weird tall and lanky man standing between him and the woman, the fireball in her hand disappearing as another much shorter and stouter man joined the first one, looking furious and dragging the other's head at his level by the goatee and quickly whispering into his ear.

"Hmm? And who are you two? The sidekicks? A bit late, don't you think?"

The two men stopped their intense whispering and immediately turned toward the woman, the smaller one of the two stepping forward as he began to speak.

"Oh no, we don't want to fight."

"We'd get crushed."

"Larr- Look, just let the kid go. He's not a threat. What can he do against you? Plus, I'm sure it's just some phase. If he knows what's good for him, he'll stop playing Hero from now on."

The woman raised an eyebrow before rubbing her chin.

"Hmm... But I need to make a profit here, ya know? He cost us some of our precious time and because of him our target has fled."

The two gulped, the tall one checking on his companion as he began to point to himself, the small one quickly shook his head in response before nervously looking around for something, anything they could take advantage of.

"Then you can... You can... Why not just take his armor? He'd be defenseless and I'm sure you'd get a few bucks from it at the right place."

"Hmm..."

The woman spent a few more seconds rubbing her chin before shrugging.

"Ya know what? Fine. Next time you won't go off so easily, though. But hey, if you ever get tired of playing the goody-two-shoes, Wicked Witchcraft is always looking for more henchmen, ya know? Tell them Rose sent you! Ciao ciao!"

""Ciao ciao!""

At that, the woman and her henchmen simply turned around and walked away, leaving a flabbergasted duo of men and an injured teen. Once the group was out of sight and earshot, Barry was the first to speak.

"Did they just forget to take the armor?"

Barry's question went unnoticed by the two people next to him, as Larry was much too focused on the kid's health and the teen himself still too stunned to really take in what the man said.

"Are you ok? Do you need to see a doc?"

"I'm... Fine..."

"I need to take off your armor to get a better look-"

"No! No... I'm... Keeping it..."

"Fine, fine."

"Larry, what were you thinking?! You know better than to get involved in Super stuff!"

"It's a kid, Barry, I couldn't let them kill him."

"Not... A kid..."

"You're lucky this one was dumb, Larry. They could have killed you."

"They didn't."

Barry watched as his brother checked on the armored teen lying on the ground and sighed.

"Fine, we're taking him to Pete's place but after that, he's on his own. We still have to go to the Black Bank afterward."

"Thanks, Barry!"

Hopefully, they wouldn't have to deal with any other interruption on their way there. The Black Bank and its surroundings were safe, like Pete's place, but they were still a few labyrinthic alleys to pass to get there. At least they were lucky enough to live near the border to the main city, although the guards didn't care much about the lives of the locals killing most of the really threatening monsters was their job.

A shiver went down his spine as Barry recalled a few stories he had heard about the things at the heart of the slums. Things dangerous enough that the various Villains and the Union had an agreement to monitor and bombard the zone if anything ever appeared and got out of hand. They were rumors that even some of the big shots like The Empress or Sunburn didn't dare approach the very center of the place. That it was haunted by some monster that would have destroyed Zalcien years ago had it not been stuck there.

But those were just rumors, right?

You know, at the rate things are going, I may begin to think I should have had rat powers instead of shadow ones.

Right in front of James - and slightly behind him and to the sides, probably an attempt to encircle him - was a group made out of dozens of rats. Some were small, some were big, but overall most were skinny adults. Their colors went from brown to grey, though they tended to be on the darker side of things. Some of the rats were sitting on their haunches and silently staring at him, others were hissing and getting ready to pounce, and others were fidgeting, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

One thing they all had in common though was their glances toward something at the center of the pack, where most rats were. An old specimen, grey fur so light it might as well have been a dirty white, a small tuft of hair to the bottom of its snout that made it look like an old bearded man and with a missing left front paw.

The ancient began to walk, slowly and with difficulty, much to the surrounding rats' worry, until he was at James' feet - foot, technically, but he wasn't sure if what he had going on was even a foot or a pseudopod or a tail or one these wispy things ghosts and genies had in fiction - and looked up to the shadowy man's faceless head.

"Squeak."

"I am sorry to say that I do not understand squeaking."

"Squeak?"

"Well, contextual clues are a thing, but I'm guessing you have a speech prepared, a speech I cannot understand."

"Squeak..."

The elderly rat took a second to think before bowing, the rest of the pack quickly imitating him, no matter their actual feelings on the situation.

"Oh, I see. Yes, this is perfectly understandable. I'm guessing the presence of those two monsters impacted the life of your pack?"

"Squeak."

"And, since I put an end to their little war, you wish to serve me as thanks?"

"Squeak?"

"Ah, not serve, but join my pack."

"Squeak."

"Well, I'm afraid that I do not truly have a pack.

"Squeak?"

"Those five are children that I am raising, not a pack in the making."

"Squeak."

"Listen, enjoy your newfound freedom from the tyranny of toads and cockroaches for now. If I ever require your services or desire to form some kind of pack I will contact you."

"Squeak!"

A young rat had just interrupted the discussion, probably angered by James' dismissal of their leader's proposition if he had to guess.

"I do not care. You lived until now with major threats around, you will do fine now that they are gone. Do not give me orders."

"Squeak!"

"Squeak."

"S-Squeak!"

"Squeak."

"Squeak..."

The elderly rat bowed once more before ordering the group to part, letting James and his loot through. Many small beady eyes looked at his back as he left, some saddened, some mad, some uncaring, and some satisfied. The elderly rat's gaze held the longest before looking away, letting out a small disappointed sigh before guiding his pack home.

Sorry everyone, but I already have five kids to worry about. I don't have the space nor the time to deal with all of you.

Finally, James reached his home in the sewers, leaving the two massive carcasses he had been dragging up until now on the side, the corpses being too large to fit through the entrance, and got ready to finally have some time to relax in the lair.

"Hey kids, I'm home!"

"Father."

"Dad!"

"Papa!"

"Daddy!"

"Old man."

Oh boy.