"Uh, hello? Hello? Is this Brutazap's Termination service?"

"Why yes, you're talking to the man himself! What can I do for you today, stranger?"

"Well, lately we've noticed things running under our windows at night. I managed to glance a peek, and... There were rats."

"Ah, rodent infestation. Seems the nasty little buggers aren't necessarily in your home yet though, might be nesting at one of your neighbors' places. It would be a mighty help if you could ask for their approval for my investigation. Saves loads of time."

"Uh, yes. Uhm, but, those weren't normal rats."

"Ah, I'm used to the weird stuff. You should've seen the swarm of burning bouncing beans I had to deal with last month. Nasty worms those, the poor guy had left his goods unprotected and they rushed in on the opportunity."

"Uhm, well, for starters they were black. Everywhere."

"Sure it wasn't the dark of the night? That can do stuff to your eyes. Not doubting you, by the way, could be a case of the shade crawlers. They ain't too dangerous compared to mundane rodents, but still a pain to have nearby, especially once they start eating your shadow."

"They WHAT? And, oh, uh, they were black, for sure. I found some stray hair the morning after, black as coal. Also, they were big. Like, very big. I'd say as big as cats."

"Ah, well those ain't shadies then. Too large. Say, I'll drop by... Is tomorrow fine?"

"Yes! Yes, please save us from those-"

"Sorry stranger, I won't be exterminating them right away. I told ya, gotta look into things first. Wouldn't want to empower them instead of terminating them, ya know? But it'll let me know what we're dealing with, and how to get rid of it. Try to hang onto some of that hair you found, it'll prove mighty useful."

"I kept it in a box."

"Wonderful. Say, there's something I need to handle right now, so just send your address and when you're available by text. I'll get back to you to share when I'll drop, is that fine with you?"

"Oh, of course! So long as you can-"

"Get rid of the pests, of course! It'll also be great to discuss payment. Don't worry, if you decide to back out I won't charge for my time so far. I'm a nice fella like that."

"Thank you, Brutazap."

"No problem, buddy."

Welch "Brutazap" Almaro ended the call and put his phone back where it belonged in the front pocket of his blue overalls. Few expected a man like him to enjoy the rural aesthetic, going as far as to wear a red plaided shirt. He had been tempted by straw hats a long while back, but ultimately the much simpler yellow cap with a crossed-out cockroach fitted him much better. He might like the style, but he didn't want to be confused for a farmer.

The man in his late thirties took off his cap and let his short dirty blonde locks free as he shook his head. He liked the hat, and after a few seconds of doing nothing he was quick to put it back on, but sometimes it did feel a little stuffy. The fresh air did wonders for the hair, as they say.

Though he did have a bit of a beer gut, the way his muscles flexed as he climbed down the ladder he was about to descend when he received this call revealed he was far from unfit. Oh, he wouldn't be at home in a bodybuilding competition or whatever big fighting sports was going strong at the time, but he made sure to stay in good enough shape to stay healthy and more importantly, wrangle any beastie that might get the bright idea of taking a bite. The fact he could likely knock down most non-Cored with a single punch was just icing on the cake.

Not that he got into fights often. It was just something nice to have, an ace up his sleeve in a way.

The Latilian man knew how important it was to have secrets and trump cards at the ready. Hell, it was what he was doing right now, going down a secret entrance in the sewer tunnels beneath his home city of Zalcien. That knack for navigating intrigue came from his education, not that he had a bad relationship with his family or anything.

Some would call them the mafia. He preferred to think of it as a very large extended family that cared for one another and was ready to help in times of need, even if it meant cleaning up nasty messes or lighting the fireplace in the middle of summer.

One of the good things about coming from the Almaro family was that they were mild-mannered. They didn't make big waves, few in the public knew about them and even cops weren't all clued in on what they did, but they still packed enough of a punch to keep the other more infamous groups at bay. Not that many of them got the bright idea of messing with this family, they made sure to keep their operations on the smaller side of things and avoid intruding on others' turf. Who knew not giving in to greed was the best way to avoid making enemies?

Another good thing about the Almaro family was that, so long as you didn't complain about the family business, they didn't mind you doing your own thing. Sure, his grandma had done her best to convince him to stay and keep the tradition, not just out of love but also because the godmother she was saw the potential his powers had, but in the end, even she accepted that Melch wasn't one for the mafioso life. Too much trouble for his taste.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Sure, exterminating pests wasn't as glamorous as what people pictured the crime families doing, but he'd take vermin over people any day. Sicklers may be nasty violent beasties with far too many sharp bits for anyone's good, but they were animals, simple and predictable. He'd take a stampede of those living knives over a single dude with a gun any day. You never knew what the idiot would do.

Besides, he had a good gig. Sure, a regular exterminator might be more willing to risk a criminal life for a chance at a better paycheck, but not Brutazap! He wouldn't go as far as to call himself the greatest at his job in the world but in the city? Few could claim to rival him in this field. Aside from the folks over at the Union and in the police, that is. They were the ones making sure he wouldn't be overworked by conducting purges in the sewers and around the slums whenever things got far too out of hand. He'd complain, but he quite enjoyed not having to fight hordes that troubled Heroes to deal with.

Still, this was an odd situation. The winter had come, and by this point, most vermin went to their little hidey holes. Not to say they didn't sneak into people's homes, but they would be too discreet to be noticed. Hell, it was why he took the call himself instead of letting his autonomous system handle it, he didn't have anything planned for weeks. Rats making a mess could just mean a mischief that's been awoken from their hibernation early, but they would be way groggier than the things this client described, and they would more likely just try to find a new spot after eating a snack or two thousand than keep patrolling the same place.

Welch paused as he reached the last rung of the ladder. Patrolling. Now wasn't that an interesting choice of word? It was good he was already in his little secret place, this new train of thought urged him to pick up more than he needed for a little investigation.

See, loath as he was to admit his family name had something to do with how quickly he rose to fame as an exterminator extraordinaire, it was true. However, just being an Almaro kid wouldn't have been enough to go so far. If he'd just been another kid born with a silver spoon and a strange choice of passion, relying on expensive equipment to do his work, he'd only be one of the best exterminators around. He was far more than that. He was Brutazap!

Really, who could fault his grandma for wanting someone with his powers to stay in the family business? He had never told anyone, but Welch did get a few invitations here and there to join groups of supers. Mostly Villains and Vigilantes, but he got a call from the Union once. It was mostly a Legion reminding him not to be stupid and go on their naughty list, but hey, it did say he was free to join their trainee program if he wanted to give it a go. He didn't. Again, cockroaches were safer than people.

As he walked down the dark tunnel he had dug, he found himself reminiscing on the past. Oh, what a day it was when while running around in the park as a young child he found himself falling into a mutant cicada nest. Instead of making their homes in trees, those nasty buggers bigger than he was had made a pit they covered with branches and foliage, and poor little Welch feared he was going to die. As it often went in such stories where the kid lives, the incident awakened his Core just in time to save himself.

Well, not that he was truly in danger. Big as there were the insects were still cicadas, perfectly harmless herbivorous dimwitted buggers. But for a kid who had no particular fondness for bugs before that point? Those huge chitinous armored bodies and globulous eyes were worse than any boogeyman he conjured in his nightmares living under the bed.

When hearing the name, quite a few folks found themselves thinking Bugazap was some sort of thunder-wielding figure of legend. Well, that was a whole load of bogus.

Reaching the metal slab he had fashioned as a door, the Latilian let his fingers run over the thing, and with a grumble it slid to the side, revealing his little nest, his perfect lair.

He never got the guys who got into Super Villainy. Sure, there was a dramatic flair, and some of the reputation stuff had to feel nice, but that was a whole life of trouble you were getting yourself into. He understood not wanting to play the goody-two-shoes as the Heroes did and just taking whatever you wanted when you felt like it, but why the theatrics? They had some people with some strong stuff in the family business, but the best at this part of the trade were always the weirdos with a love for masks and capes.

And with the Union around, that whole "unleash the beast" mindset became naught but hogwash. Sure, you can break down the bank and steal tons of money, but is it worth it when afterward you get the gal who can turn you into a dumb frog running after you? Nah. The real smart Supers weren't the mad scientist sorts like Moonfreeze or Mecha Man, no, they were the grounded folks like Welch who used their powers for much more mundane stuff. Sure, have some nasty surprises at the ready in case anything ever happens, but don't go blasting them way at schools or whatever.

Just take a look at Welch's secret garden: a large underground chamber filled with countless glass tubes of all sizes, each one filled with varying amounts of colorful shining orbs the size of apples. Was it completely legal? No, but at worst, even including the more questionable stuff he had lying around, he'd only be in jail for a few years at worst, and it'd be regular jail, not the Super prison where you got to be the cellmate of walking nukes.

At its core, Welch's power was simple: he could take any form of energy and create wisps made of the same energy, and then direct those wisps however he wished. The number and strength of the constructs varied based on what they were made of, and the same went for what they could do. They all shared a few tricks however: they lasted as long as he wished with no energy upkeep or whatever to keep them around, and they all could unleash their original energy via contact.

Simple, maybe somewhat disappointing compared to stuff like the world-scorching flames of Sunburn. But for Welch? This was the best power ever.

Who needs to fire lightning from their fingertips when they can just take the electric current from the nearest outlet and summon clouds of wisps that could swarm and electrocute anything in their path?

Who needs to be able to create a city out of thin air when you can just borrow the local earth mana and direct it to reshape the world around you?

Who needs a missile launcher to destroy anything when you can just simply have a single radioactive wisp unleash the power sealed within?

Not that Welch went around screaming about what he could do. That'd be stupid. Just like it'd be incredibly dumb of him to think just because he knew how to pull a few tricks he was some kind of bigshot who could do whatever he wanted. Nah. He could pull a nasty one and take care of some strong folks if they underestimated him, but the civilian lifestyle fitted him well. His habit of collecting rare and dangerous energies with his wisp only served to defend himself or deal with the worst beasties he had to handle on the job.

Brutazap knelt to pick up a jar containing something he had felt would prove useful soon. He only got one of this kind, but the little orb contained within could make the difference between a fat paycheck and becoming a feast for a bunch of murderous rodents.

To deal with shadowy vermin, what better than holy fire?