A/N: Hey, All. It's been a while since I posted to this site. This particular experiment was done mainly for a dear friend of mine, but because of how much I'm putting into it, I'd be doing myself a disservice if I didn't post it publicly as well.

So here's the thing. On the internet, there seems to be a small ship war going on between two armadas. I call them the USS Saibuki, and the USS Saitatsu. Since Saitama x Fubuki seems to be the larger of the two, I wanted to try playing with the other. People who already follow me understand how I love rooting for the underdogs.

This should probably be considered slightly AU, just because it takes place after the Season 1 anime and goes on a different tangent. I have a lot of fun when I'm motivated to write, so even if you don't prefer or even respect the pairing, I hope you get something out of it regardless.

And if you want to throw me some of that sweet, sweet candy, please go ahead and R&R. It ain't like a donation, after all. It's free. :P

Cover art credit goes out to the respective creator, which in this case isn't me.

Happy reads!

Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man or any of its original characters.

Chapter 1: Night of Terror

"Hello, and welcome back to ABC-Citizen News. I'm Kurosawa Momota, and the local time is twenty-one hundred hours this Saturday evening in Upper B-City District. As relayed by the earlier weather team, there is a heavy overcast, so be sure to take umbrellas if you plan to do some late-night shopping."

The woman's voice buzzed electrically through the low-quality radio that sat on the table otherwise occupied by a clutter of dirty dishes. Next to it, an overtly large man sat on his knees, huddled over his final bowl to deprive his chankonabe stew of its last strip of meat.

"You're planning to clean all that crap up when you're finished eating, right Raiden?" A young man's voice called out from the corner of the spacious but dimly lit dojo. Every once in a while, the few lights in the room that hadn't gone out would buzz abruptly from above, as if grunting to stay alive.

"If I feel like it." The shirtless man replied, teasing apart the piece of meat in front of him with a pair of chopsticks. The swift motions he used with his fingers revealed a level of finesse betraying the sight of a man his size.

"C'mon man, I'm trying to straighten this shit up for the fresh-blooded Hunters." The other figure complained from his corner.

The heavy man dangled the meat between his chopsticks over his mouth like a fishing rod before releasing the morsel inside. Between chomps of his teeth, he half-spat out his response. "If your recruits want to join up so badly, they'll forgive the mess. Besides, it helps them know that we aren't here to breathe down their necks about house upkeep."

"Tch. Don't go out of your way to speak for both of us…"

Satisfied with his meal, the seated man ignored the utterance and slammed his dining utensils down next to the large empty bowl, causing the whole space to shake in protest. "That was a damned fine meal!" He got up, patting the full contents of his belly with enough force to cause ripples in the fat.

"Look uhh, I know you have to maintain your 'image' or whatever, but if you keep eating like that, you'll run us out of the business before we bring in enough to keep up with the grocery bills."

The larger man stood up off the floor, groaning with great effort as he hoisted his mass. "…Did you already forget why they call me Raiden?" The man's low, husky voice was now uncompromised by chewing food.

"Uhhhh…because lightning and thunder, and thunder is loud? So what's your point?"

The obese man in the middle of the room continued. "You ever learn about yin yang, Accel?"

The younger man pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and stepped out of the dark, slowly revealing his features as he approached the center of the room. The difference between the two characters was palpable to any who could see.

The larger of the two men held the title by at least three sizes over. A Japanese sumo wrestler, traditional to the T. The only article of clothing he wore on his entire body was a white fundoshi vaguely wrapping around his pelvis front and back, leaving an uncomfortably small amount to the imagination. He was a mountain of flesh held together by muscle, which gave him the strange appearance of seeming loose and firm at the same time. Atop his wide shoulders sat his finer features, which any enemy of his would be unfortunate if caught close enough to appreciate. He had dark eyes and raven-black hair bunched together into a chonmage topknot, sitting elegantly at the top of his head like the spire of a crown.

In contrast, his smaller partner was of average height with the same black hair, only his was messy and unrestrained. He had a handsome face, marred perhaps only by the look of irritation it currently wore. The only one of the two clad in a full set of clothing, he had on a simple long-sleeved black shirt resting under a pocketed vest. His hands were clad in cumbersome-looking armored gloves, but if they weighed anything at all, he didn't seem to pay notice. He wore a regular pair of jeans accompanied by knee pads and an aura of grey dust. Below that, a pair of rollerblades attached to steel-toed boots. All-in-all, while not commanding the imposing size of his partner, he was by no means flimsy either, and seemed to fill out his clothes with an underlying athletic build.

"Is there gonna be a point at the end of this speech?" He asked wearily.

"There's a point to everything, lad." The sumo wrestler replied. "But people that don't care won't see it."

"So you're assuming I will? That's some courtesy you're showing me..."

"Then you can repay it by listening." Raiden returned.

His colleague grabbed his own ears and stretched them out in a facetious fashion to confirm that he was. Raiden ignored the mocking gesture and continued.

"You have two sides. Black and white. Average, small-minded people see only a fancy circle…"

"Or a Pepsine logo if they're colorblind…" Accel muttered with a scoff of amusement.

Raiden was quick to recapture control of the lecture. "But the yin and yang are tied together. One side of the circle is the wheels beneath your shoe, and the other side of the circle is the friction that propels them. Between motion and stillness, these two forces meet, and when placed harmoniously together under the right circumstance, they let you glide along the ground as if water."

The wrestler took the first hard step to leaving the table he sat at, ignoring the harsh interference of the radio as local newscaster Kurosawa continued with her evening report. He walked right up to Accel to look him in the eyes, and when he saw that they were clear and focused, he smirked down at him. "Did you ever think about it, Accel? Or are you an average, small-minded person too?" The towering man continued past him and looked out of the huge window. Night had gotten too dark for the glass to return him a view of the city, so he was met with his own reflection instead. He locked eyes with it and listened to the pattering sound of water tap the roof, soft and slow at first, but eventually picking up tempo. It had begun to rain. "My name is Raiden. I am the Lightning and the Thunder. But Lightning needs Thunder. And Thunder needs Lightning."

He turned back around to face Accel, who was still standing behind him. Then, surprisingly gentle, he put one hand on his colleague's shoulder while motioning the other one out to the table where he had finished his meal. "Food is my Lightning, Accel. And this glorious body of mine is my Thunder. I get no Lightning – I lose my Thunder. Get it?"

"Yeah, okay, Rai. You don't eat, then you can't stay fat enough to wake City Z every time you roll out of bed."

The sumo wrestler raised a stern eyebrow at the callous reply. The two stared each other down for a few long seconds, and the grip that Raiden had on Accel's shoulder tightened with malice. Accel grimaced at the force, but that was all he was willing to show. His eyes remained fiercely locked onto those of the taller man, and when the giant's face intensified with a vein popping down his furious forehead, it looked like he was about to lay into the smaller man and throw him straight through the window behind them. Instead, he instantly broke composure with a sudden thunderous, bellowing laugh which in itself might have been enough to shake the room. Where his hand was already resting on Accel's shoulder, he gave it a few playful but otherwise painful pats before releasing him from his grasp.

"Still the same cocky bastard you've always been! Where do they make idiots like you? If I was seriously mad, you'd be flat enough to fold into my briefcase right now!"

Accel furrowed his eyebrow in amusement. "It's a good thing you don't own a briefcase then."

"Hah!"

Accel wasn't ashamed to admit that as fast as he was, his mouth always seemed to keep up faster than his brain. He said what he thought, and whether he meant it as a joke, not everyone believed he was funny. The nail that sticks out the most gets hammered down, so the old saying goes. Growing up in his neighborhood, big mouths got little guys into trouble. And long before he became a teen, he learned to apply those wheels beneath his feet to carry him faster than any grown thug on the block could follow.

Raiden was not a little guy. It didn't matter what he said to whom. He was the Super Sumo Yokozuna. He's never been anyone's prey. And as his shadow completely eclipsed the rollerblader, it was amusing to imagine that he might have been roughly his size at one point – perhaps when he was a minute or two old. But like most alphas, he found his niche at an early age, and now, no matter how fast anyone was, no amount of speed would be knocking him out of the ring. 700 consecutive challengers could testify to that.

So when Accel was within arm's reach of this golden goliath, it wasn't really luck that he was betting his life with, but simply knowing Raiden's temperament. Who would have thought that two fellows in such drastically different weight classes could have such a similar sense of humor?

The two slowly turned their attention to the report spilling from the radio back at the table.

"—astounding impact of the events that unfolded at A-City a week ago. After the Hero Association repelled what appeared to have been an alien invasion, Agoni – the multi-millionaire and founder, as well as lead benefactor of the Hero Association – has green-lighted construction for a brand new headquarters to commemorate the efforts of the highest ranked heroes who fought valiantly on behalf of all surrounding communities. The new Heroes' HQ, proclaimed soon to be an impenetrable fortress, will be supervised by Bofoi, who is more commonly associated with the S-rank hero title, 'Metal Knight.' The site of the future headquarters is said to stand before the monument that was established in honor of—…"

"Would it really kill you to just let me install a TV in that wall over there?" Accel spoke over the radio as the voice continued.

"Why?" Raiden snorted. "So you can jerk off to Momota-chan's cute face? She ain't even that hot."

Accel smirked. "Ahh. I forgot that you don't settle for any chick with an ass smaller than your mom's…and a dick smaller than yours."

"You cheeky son of a…"

"In case you missed it yesterday, I will now release the names of the heroes who have given us permission to share their involvement in response with last week's attack on City A. S-Rank 16: Tanktop Master. S-Rank 15: Metal Bat. S-Rank 4: Atomic Samurai. S-Rank 3: Silver Fang. S-Rank 2: Tornado of Terror. And following in support of all S-Ranks on-scene is A-Rank 1: popular celebrity Sweet Mask, who is said to have intercepted a secondary threat from—"

"Ahh shut up."

-CLACK-

Accel kicked the radio over, silencing the broadcast.

Raiden raised his arms out in protest. "Now what did you go and do a thing like that for? I had to time a sale right to get that!"

"That just means it didn't cost you much money. That dinner you had probably woulda cost more even if this thing was brand new."

"Whatever! That doesn't give you the right to break other peoples' shit."

"Look man, I just can't stand hearing people talk about that stupid peacock. And busting the radio was the fastest way to turn it off."

Forgetting about the vandalism, the wrestler blinked quizzically. "Peacock? You mean Mask?"

"Yeah…" Accel leaned back against the window and glared out into the black behind him. "That peacock cocksucking sucker. 'Handsome' Sweet-ass Mask."

Raiden rubbed the back of his neck. "He never runs from the spotlight, does he…"

"Easiest way for him to catch a tan on that prissy porcelain skin of his." Accel muttered with closed eyes and crossed arms. "I can't believe on top of the modeling gig, and the acting for that drippy soap opera, and even that trashy romance novel he wrote, they're hailing him as a hero now too. And I'll bet that blue-headed ho didn't chip one fingernail fighting whatever was going on down there."

Raiden crossed his arms too, nodding his head in silent contemplation. No doubt his partner was right. Sweet Mask built his whole world off of the assembly line of fantasies that his adoring fans built for him. The sumo couldn't perceive what it was about such a feminine man that made girls give chase, but how could so many drooling mouths be wrong? At any rate, there's not a thing in the world that could convince either one of them that Mask was on-scene for any selfless reason other than to sponge up the media.

"I'm so sick of hearing about the Hero Association. If I had a few mil, I could establish a group that size just as easy. Anyone could."

"We're establishing a group like that for way less." Raiden pointed out, "which tells you just how easy it really is."

Accel frowned. "What we do won't even dent the windshield if we can't circulate our market. We need the Hunters."

"The Hunters will come, comrade," Raiden reassured him, "then the Hunt will begin."

"And Sweet Mask isn't the problem. Not by himself anyway. It's what he represents that bugs me."

"What's that?"

"I mean, why do you think the Hero Association uses him as their mascot?"

"Hrrrr…" Raiden pondered in a passive growl, "I suppose celebrity marketing is a very popular tactic when it's the public eye you're after. When I was active in the ring, half of what I made didn't even come from winning. It came from advertisement campaigns. Food sellers used me to show sumo aspirants that their bulking products worked."

"So why would they use an A-Rank to address the media when they have all those S-Classes?"

"Heh. Maybe that's actually his hero ability." The wrestler shrugged. "I know you hate Mask n' all, but he's multi-talented, so he's just gained appreciation of several bigger circles."

"They don't promote him because he's strong," Accel stated somewhat bitterly, "they promote him because he's famous. And influential. Mark me, that organization is rotting from the pit of the apple."

Before his partner could respond, the lights in the room began to flicker off and on – even the ones that they thought had been burnt out. The two turned their attention back down to the old radio that Accel had kicked down and watched with a small degree of disturbance as the machine slowly hummed back to life.

"-it…bzzzt…ortant…zap….emergenc…ort for all neighboring ci…" The two continued to look down at it as the feed struggled to relay the report. Little by little, it got easier to understand the message. "We're catching stran…bzzt…interference. Something bzt happening…"

Amazed that the radio still worked after that kick, the two men exchanged glances, and Accel reached down to pick it up, giving the gizmo a few shakes. It seemed to help.

"Some sort of electrical interference is disrupting the broadcast. We've just received word that what appears to be a lightning bolt has struck the power station in upper City C. Multiple power outages throughout the area. We're tracing…zeet…haywire of voltage seems to be causing blackouts while traveling down power lines. If you are in Cities B and C and have access to this report, do not panic. Reports are flooding in that the electric current appears to be alive but is moving away. Please advise that the disturbance is moving away, but we cannot verify what it is. Emergency power should arrive shortly. Those with friends and loved ones in Cities H, L, O, X, and Z are advised to reach out to them before the blackout arrives and warn them to remain in their homes. I repeat, warn Cities H, L, O, X, and Z…stay indoors! We will—"

The damaged speaker of the radio flooded with static, and the woman's voice was completely drowned out by the crackling. Slowly, an entirely new sound seemed to take its place, drifting in just a little bit at a time like a phantasm, accompanied by an unsettling vacuum of back noise. The two had to strain their ears to hear it, but there was eventually no mistaking that it was there when it said,

"…SCAnNing…err0rs…rE…cAli…bRaTIng…gRid ReLAy…"

-POP-

Almost like a balloon, the machine burst into sparks. The place went dark, and the only light source was the smoldering fire from where the garbled voice had been speaking.

After a silent pause in the void of the dojo, Accel's irritated voice permeated the stillness.

"…Fan-fruity-tastic."

"The chimp is our closest relative, sharing 98.7% of our DNA. But it also shares with us a very complicated mind, and, just like us, chimpanzees are prone to—"

Boring.

-Click-

"—welcoming today Kay Katrashian. Miss Katrashian, thanks for being here with us this evening." "Oh, my pleasure honey." "Now, could you tell us more about this picture you took?" "Well, like see, late at night, weird ideas just come to me, so I thought, why not just take this pineapple…umm…shell, I guess, and wear it on my head as part of a Sunday wardrobe. I mean, Daddy is a doctor, and he already told me that pineapples have, like, a bazillion health benefits, so I just decided to take a selfie with—"

Who cares.

-Click-

"Mister Clark…I don't feel so good." "You're alright, kid…" "I don't know what's happening… Please…I don't want to go, I don't want to go, please….don't let me go, I don't want to go…"

Already cried over that.

-Click-

"HEY YOU! YEAH YOU! DO YOU WISH YOUR DOG WAS IMMORTAL?!"

I don't even have a stupid dog.

-Click-

"Vilagra Single Packs. So guys can take it…when you need them to. Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex. For erections lasting more than four hours, st—"

Eep!

=CLICK=

This was all part of the nightly routine for Hero Association's currently highest ranked heavy-hitter. Sure she may hold the mantle only because Blast was gone, but who else really had the right to say she didn't earn her spot? Being good at your job was one thing. Being active at it was another.

So as she sat in her baggy pajamas, planted to her armchair in the middle of her apartment, she couldn't help but run the cliché through her head, asking herself how there could be so many channels with so little on. At least it was only 2:00am.

Her television was the only light in the room. The glow might have been enough to put her in a trance if she wasn't so busy telekinetically flicking through the channels with her pointer finger. She rested her head on her other arm, leaning wearily into it while using the other to work over the TV. Being a hero may not come with that many perks – at least she didn't think so – but being an esper sure did. No batteries for remote controllers.

Tatsumaki, the Tornado of Terror, was bored. Completely, utterly, irrepressibly bored.

She usually had a hard time sleeping at night. Sure you could call her a night owl for it, but she was one of those weird people that felt more alert after dark. Possibly because not nearly as many people were conscious to occupy her brainwave space with stupid thoughts. And people were stupid. That part was never going away.

After a few dozen more attempts to find something remotely eye-catching on the screen, the green-haired girl finally gave up. She slumped back into her seat, trying for a moment to forget that she was a vertebrate as she allowed the cushion to suck her in.

She buried her mouth into the collar of her shirt and stuck her petite legs out, absent-mindedly watching the rabbit slippers she wore on her feet as she made them wrestle each other.

"You'll never defeat me, Sylvester." She called down in a low voice. "The barrows are mine, and your women too!"

She switched tones and set out to use a higher one for the other slipper. "I find that dreadfully unlikely, Warlord Whiskerfisk… I'm sending you hopping back to Hell!"

After a small moment that she was sure any of her colleagues would have turned into blackmail for her, she stopped playing and hung her arms out over the rests, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"It's happening." She muttered monotonously to herself. "It's finally happening – I'm going insane."

While a part of her secretly wished for it just for the relief to stop giving a crap about absolutely anything, her small isolated world was cut off by a flicker of the television light. Most other people wouldn't have even noticed, but Tatsumaki sensed it right away. Something was disrupting the electricity running through the building, and that meant that something was disrupting her. And whoever or whatever it was, there was no excuse in the multiverse good enough to keep her from ripping it apart for interrupting her time off.

She allowed an aura of green to encompass her body, and in a burst of speed, she hastened to her bedroom. Seconds later, she emerged wearing a flowy form-fitting black dress and a matching pair of low-heeled black shoes. Emerald bolts of static crackled angrily from her frame, informing any potential threat in the room with her that she was ready for it.

Using her psionic extra sense, she scanned the space in the apartment and found that whatever was with her had left. But Tatsumaki knew that just like anything else that moves, it left tracks.

Her eyes glowed bright green, and on a spectrum of light visible only to her, she caught a translucent path of dust riding a cable cord out of her home through the wall.

"Ionized gases… Plasma…and silicon too?" She squinted intently at the bluish substance dancing in front of her. "Interesting…"

Wasting no more time on detective work, she blazed her way out the door, intent on following the direction of the trail. She instinctively knew however, that it would be too fast for her to chase through the city by street. It used electric currents for travel, and electricity moves fast.

Instead of sticking low to the ground, Tatsumaki blasted herself high up into the night sky, strategically positioned well above the highest buildings of her city. Coated in energy, she looked like an exceptionally green star among the other constellations.

Searching below, her eyes widened in surprise when she saw what was happening to the district.

In a consistent pattern, lights in the city were going out in a small, concentrated area that seemed to work its way up one street at a time, like a snake paving a path of darkness through bright sand. It was creepy – to say the least – watching an invisible shape devour the lights of street lamps, windowed buildings, and every small thing in between. On the blackout's path, even the lights of cars were not spared, and Tatsumaki lightly winced as she heard the numerous crashing sounds of vehicles throwing themselves into each other in the darkness and confusion.

Following in pursuit from a high vantage point, the Tornado of Terror set the black sky ablaze with brilliant emerald green, and if anyone below took notice of her radioactive glow, they probably mistook her for a shooting star, paying her with selfish wishes as she flew by.

"Genos?"

"Sensei!"

"It's three in the morning."

"I am aware, Sensei."

"Cool, so what are you doing?"

"Boiling water, Sensei."

"Boiling water at three in the morning... Why."

The cyborg's deeply disturbed glare was practically drilling a hole in the wall he was facing while he held a gigantic iron pot in his prosthetic hands. A volcanic glow was escaping his palms, all but superheating the metal between them.

"It cannot be helped." He stated factually. "Ever since the heating to the apartment has shut down, I cannot bear to fathom a day like tomorrow where Sensei shall be forced to bathe using cold water."

"That's the reason?" His roommate expressed disappointment in his logic. "I'm not even getting up for another six or seven hours."

"Do not despair. I will be ready."

"Your plan is to stand there holding the pot for another seven hours?"

"I will do what is necessary for my master."

Lying back on his side and wearing his typical pjs, Saitama scratched his cheek in a mild manner of intrigue. The synthetic creature that most people now officially knew as the 'Demon Cyborg' had been rooming with him for a matter of months. Since then, the pseudo-machine's adulation for him only continued to grow every time he popped a monster's head off like a Pez dispenser. At worst his praise and devotion was obnoxious, at best it was weird, and on average it was creepy.

Having been said, this was one of those creepy times.

But even Saitama had to admit, seeing his self-proclaimed "disciple" drive to such lengths just to ensure him a comfortable morning was…well…almost not creepy? As it goes, it's the thought that counts, and he guessed that he would rather be acquainted with people who erred on the side of caring too much rather than too little.

"That's kind of amazing, really. How can you go so long without falling over?" He asked Genos. "Is it some kind of battery?"

"It is actually quite simple." He surprised his idol with a rare smirk reserved only for small moments of pride.

"How do you do it?" Saitama pushed with interest.

"I am equipped with artificial sensory neurons that I can use to stimulate my brain at will."

"Okay, with you so far…"

"As I am sure you are aware, the brain is the central processing unit, or "CPU" that runs in all humans and most other organisms."

"Laying it on a bit thick, but sure…"

"However! My central processing unit is wired differently than most others. As long as I am within a hotspot, I can sustain consciousness for extended periods of time."

"Whaaa that's really coo—wait." He screeched to a halt, almost too afraid to ask for further elaboration. "What do you mean by hotspot?"

Genos turned his head to answer the bald face that now appeared slightly concerned.

Without missing a beat, he laid it out plainly.

"I use hundreds of tiny wireless charging modules throughout my skeleton to constantly absorb the energy of every available source within 804.672 meters—"

"YOU'RE the reason our electric bill ran so high last month!" Saitama's eyes were practically bugging out, a long vein running down his forehead in extreme displeasure. "No freaking wonder the landlord shut off the hot water!"

"I…I am deeply sorry Master!"

"Don't just be sorry! Turn all that crap off and sleep like a normal person!"

"O-of course…!"

Almost on cue, the entire apartment went black, leaving the two in abrupt darkness.

After a few quiet beats, a voice spoke. "Uhh, Genos, when I said shut it off, I didn't mean shut off everything."

"I do not believe this is my doing, Sensei."

"Well who else? The next bill's not due until the end of the month."

"Wait…look outside."

"Ack! Hey, don't sneak up on people like that!"

"Apologies once again, Master."

"What is it? What's out there?"

The only immediate response he got was someone who could only be Genos sliding the glass door open leading to the outdoor patio and balcony. However, it appeared to be no brighter out there than in the interior room – not even some slight flooding from the street lights below.

From the other side of the glass door, a small light came on and illuminated a path across the room. Saitama squinted his eyes to adjust, and realizing that it was Genos guiding him, he made his way to meet him outside.

When he got close enough to the source, Saitama saw that the light was jutting out of Genos's shoulder – some sort of portable emergency flashlight. 'Huh. Go-Go Gadget.' Saitama thought with a shrug before stepping past him.

"As I suspected," the cyborg stated in almost a whisper, "it is not just us. The entire block has gone dark. Until I run a diagnostic scan for the city's power grid, I cannot ascertain the cause of the blackout or how far it extends. And I cannot do that from here."

"Now hang on," Saitama appealed, "let's not go on a survival horror quest out there without considering some of the smaller things it could be first."

"Sensei?"

"Yeah, you know, for instance a squirrel might have been chewing on a powerline for all we know. Or some hippies might be shutting all their lights off in a show of eco-friendliness."

Genos wasn't quite sure how to respond to his idol's flippant way of thinking. "That would…certainly be an odd array of circumstances."

"Besides, look how late it is. We should've already turned the lights off anyway by now." Saitama yawned and turned to head back into the building. "Maybe the power will be back on by morning. Let's just leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's us."

Genos was preparing to follow him back in too, but sensing something fast approaching from behind, he opened his mouth in surprise, "S-Sensei, incoming!"

A streak of white lightning came crashing from out of nowhere in the abyss of night, and Genos was thrown through the double-pane glass doors back into the house. As he went barreling into an unfortunate table, the lights that had gone out in the room immediately shot back to life, brightening and dimming on and off as whatever threw the cyborg remained curled up at its landing site.

Saitama and Genos both watched as what appeared to be a glowing ball of light slowly unfurled itself in front of them, looking more and more humanoid in shape as it straightened itself up. By the time it was completely standing, its head was almost touching the ceiling.

The entity in front of them appeared alien in origin, but its appearance told different stories. It had arms and legs like a person, but they were unnaturally lanky in length, and instead of hands and feet, each limb ended with a single razor-sharp tip, as if the creature was balancing on toothpicks. The details of its entire body seemed to be comprised of advanced circuitry, filled with an entire pallet of black, slivers, and white. It was like a mannequin carved out of some sort of motherboard, with wires and electricity floating all around its frame like water. It had a head too, though its face was completely featureless. No eyes, nose, mouth, or ears. But as they watched its body language, it was all too apparent that it knew exactly where it was – and where they were.

In spite of the violent energy crackling all over, it stood tall, composed, and rather still. It turned its head to silently survey the area as the lights around the room continued to harken its arrival with turbulent flickers.

Genos got into a battle-ready stance, aiming the repulse rays of his palms at the potential threat. As one hero was preparing to expunge the intruder, Saitama was busy expunging a floater from his nose, using his pinky finger to haphazardly dig into his nostril without a care in the world.

After a small stand-off, the bionic shape in front of them did something that neither of them expected from a thing with no mouth:

It spoke.

At first, its speech was a completely garbled mess. Almost like demonic chanting in a language that didn't currently exist. But as they listened, a few audible words crept in.

"St#nd bY... %$$#%***( RetRieVing $#;{}||| BinAry coDing... Initi*liZiNg Main HuB... ScanNing RegisTRY KeY for damAge... NO damAge... oPEning InterfAce..." The creature's voice was unnaturally deep, and the inflections of its tone were way off-kilter – like it could make sense of the individual syllables but not quite apply them to words. It sounded like some sort of cheap voice modulator that hackers would use as a scare tactic. As it carried itself through the works of its apparent programming, the voice seemed to slowly be evening itself out. "ScanNing… SigNatures detectEd: 2. PreppiNg Interacti0n… AcCessing sPeeCH MatriX… Updating Phonetic Database… Initiating Exercise."

After that, all electric activity around it died down. Sparks stopped cracking off of its surface, and the lights in the room finally stabilized and remained on. All motor function of the creature seemed to halt, and it did nothing more.

Saitama and Genos continued to observe it from a distance for several minutes. It remained still. Standing tall and silent.

Genos didn't spend a second with his eyes off the stranger. "This is most irregular, Master. I suggest we—eh?!"

The cyborg's jaw dropped when he noticed that his roommate was already standing directly next to the metallic statue, hunched over as he studied its features with concern. Sticking a finger out, he poked the surface of its arm. "Huh. This is interesting." Saitama's face entered one of its uncommon "serious" styles, erasing all of the cartoonish appeal it usually wore.

"S-Sensei?" Genos looked on in awe. If his teacher was using that expression, there must have been a seriously good reason for it. "What is it? What have you learned?"

The soft-turned-hardboiled egg glared intensely at the anomaly before him for a few more seconds. "It appears to be…" He snapped his head towards Genos to announce his revelation. "…some new variant of dakimakura!"

Genos's black eyes hollowed out and formed underwhelmed slits. "I…I have utterly nothing to contribute to this theory, Master."

Saitama's face reverted back to its less-artistic default. "No? You don't think that's what it is? But it's so soft and life-like…" He lowered his head in defeat and heaved out a small sigh. "Aw. I guess it was wishful thinking. My old futon's getting kinda raggedy and seeing how sterile this thing looks reminded me I need to do some mattress shopping."

He turned to look up at the creature's head, just as motionless as the rest of its body. Intent on continuing his investigation of the mannequin, he held his finger out again and slowly moved for the head next. "Well, whatever this is…it doesn't appear to be modern art at all…"

"DANGER!" The figure snapped its head and flashed a blood-red light from an unknown source on its face directly towards Saitama, nearly causing the self-proclaimed hero for fun to jump back clear through the wall in reflex.

"FWAAHH! Judas priest that startled me." In a split second, Saitama's expression returned from eye-popping batshit shock back into its neutral state. Meanwhile, Genos's itchy trigger finger nearly blasted a 3-meter wide hole through the ceiling, silently revealing that the quick movement scared him too.

The machine man-thing instantly regained movement and turned to address its two hosts. The manner of its voice had changed. It was still deep and imposing, but much clearer and evenly paced now. All of its strange ripples and fluctuations were gone – replaced with an unsettling air of artificial sentience.

"Explanation: Sentry Service Unit detected anomalous kinetic spikes in close proximity. Scanning for source of misinformation… Result: Sensory glitch has bypassed preliminary start-up procedure. No threat detected. Attaching troubleshooting log to soft drive for later analysis."

"Whatever you are and whatever you are doing here, your actions have been deemed hostile." Genos stated vehemently, intensifying the glow effect on his palms. "Look at what you have done! You spilled all of Sensei's hot water!"

"You're still focused on that?" Saitama almost looked disappointed.

"You have exactly twenty words or less to explain the meaning of this intrusion."

"Scanning… Scan complete. Introduction: Greetings, Demon Cyborg. That parameter is impossible, however, enough to reveal this unit's from the future."

"THAT WAS TWENTY-ONE YOU INSUFFERABLE BASTARD!" To Genos, this was all the justification he needed. It was time to light it up.

"Genos, wait! One of those words was just a contraction. Chill for a moment."

"Tch," Genos scrunched his nose and seethed his frustration through gritted teeth, "…so it would seem. To supersede the Twenty-Word Rule with such a tactic… This foe is cunning indeed."

"Just give the man a pass and let him talk." Saitama formed a drooling grin. "If he's really from the future, think of all the winning lottery numbers and cutting-edge recipes he can share with us."

"Correction: this unit is not a man. From the time period this unit originates from, there are no lottery numbers, nor are there any recipes that humans like you require."

"Ah, I see." Saitama smiled emptily. "Well – my night's ruined."

"You will suffer for what you did to Sensei's night!" Genos threatened vengefully. "But first, you say why you know my hero moniker."

"Reply: In order to answer this query, this unit must issue self-identification."

"Very well." Genos motioned it without letting his guard down. "Identify."

"Complying… Classification: Proxy series. Assembly model: Proto Zuckerbot 9000, Mk II. Designated handle: ALEXANDRIA. Model number: 0234188—"

"All right already." Saitama interrupted. "For crying out loud, your name by itself is longer than twenty words. Just get to the point, pay for the wall and table you just destroyed, and leave so I can go to bed."

"Altering rhetorical approach… Rejoinder. The ALEXANDRIA Project is designed to—"

"There you are!"

Three heads turned towards the destroyed back opening to see a small figure floating in a green outline just outside.

Upon seeing who it was, Genos's internal heating system began to run cold, sending a harrowing chill throughout his exoskeleton. He had not forgotten the evil green witch that had just weeks earlier taken to mounting him up against a giant rock, effectively making a kindergarten-level mosaic out of his parts. So deeply was he engrained into the stone that Saitama and Bang had to painstakingly remove him in individual pieces; part-by-part, link-by-link, and yard-by-yard. The affair took about two hours, and he had to be carried home in a box like an assembly-required toy set.

Seeing the source of all that discomfort looming in her full arrogant splendor made the cyborg wish that the first intruder had finished the job when it crashed into him at lightspeed.

"I'll admit, you put up quite a chase. You had your fun leading me through the entire city alphabet, didn't you." She slowly descended towards the room, though remained at a comfortable distance from both the entity and the boys. "But my patience has run out. It's the end of the line."

The humanoid machine rumbled aggressively, and no one was sure what it would do next. "Running facial recognition software… Scan complete. Accessing digital archives… File retrieved. Affiliation: Hero Association, Rank 2. Threat escalated. Switching paradigms… Evasive Maneuver."

"What? Ohhh no. Don't you even think about leaving!" She threw her hand out at the bionic creature, intent on restraining it with her power. Her target stopped its rapid vibrating, and for a moment, her tactic appeared to be working.

But then the confidence in her face broke, and her eyes widened with surprise as she watched her captive stretch and float apart, losing complete definition of shape. She focused hard, making her green aura of influence expand to keep it contained. But in the end, it slipped awry and split into pure light again, crackling outwards in a hundred different directions. The whole room was hit with a blinding wave of strobe, causing all three heroes to reflexively avert their eyes.

Dazed from both the lightshow and the effort to staunch it, Tatsumaki's mental link broke once and for all. And by the time the light dimmed, the monster was gone.

The three were left standing around in the apartment, unsure of what to do next.

Tatsumaki, ever the fastest to cast blame, made the first move.

"What the hell were you two just standing there for?! Especially you, Tinker Toys! You're supposed to be S-Class too, aren't you? So why didn't you do anything to help!"

Genos grunted in umbrage of her chastisement, and Saitama could tell by the red glowing furnace of the cyborg's stomach how badly he already must have wanted to melt her face off.

Before the conflict could reach that realm of possibility, the bald hero decided that it was time to interject. The last thing he needed to end the night was to worry about the kid's parents filing a grievance against them for wrongful conduct.

Literally taking some heat off his roommate, he addressed Tornado face-to-face. "Excuse me, but why did you cut in like that?" He proceeded to chide her like the responsible adult that society commanded him to be. "Didn't your folks tell you how rude it is to interrupt grownups while they're talking?"

Having trouble processing who had the balls to lecture her, Tatsumaki's face fell into its cartoonish stature, her jaw hung open in disbelief. "WHAT?!"

"Besides, don't you know what time it is? What are you doing out so late? Did you get separated from your family? You should be in bed by now, shouldn't you?" As he continued to drop questions on her, only Genos seemed to notice every available object in the room slowly floating up from the floor, wrapped in green.

"Uhh…Sensei?"

Saitama just kept casually talking to the esper in front of him. "Aww c'mon, don't make that face, you're starting to make me feel like a bad guy. Look, it's okay, I'm not mad at you for what happened. You made a mistake, so all you can do is take this opportunity to grow from it. Can I get you something to drink? I think we have some soy milk in the—"

"You…" The word seethed out from between two rows of gritting fangs.

"Eh?" He blinked at her, perplexed, but laidback.

"You impudent…"

"Ah, sorry, I should've asked if you were allergic to soy."

"…detestable…"

"Ahh, wait, I forgot the fridge is out…"

"…imbecilic…"

"That means all the stuff in there's probably gone bad. Crap. Hey Genos, could you do me a solid and see if you can rescue the Szechuan—"

"BALDING ALIEN!" The building practically exploded. Shit was flying everywhere. It was like a poltergeist had imbibed a truckload of Greenbull before going on the clock to start haunting. "You're MINE!"

Before either Saitama or Genos could react, the floor beneath the former's feet cracked all around him, and the next thing he knew, he was being catapulted out through where the back door used to be. Tossed into the darkness of the street, he re-centered himself with little trouble and stuck the landing in almost Olympic fashion.

It didn't take long for the angry emerald sprite to catch up. She hit the ground about two busses worth of distance from her new unwitting prey, and her arms were crossed threateningly while she sized him up to see how many buckets it would take to clean him off the pavement.

"Why did you bring me all the way out here?" Saitama asked, conveying some small annoyance on his face. "Are you saying you want me to take you home?"

Not realizing it was genuine, Tatsumaki ignored the question. "You seem to have some trouble with your memory." Her voice was calm, but waspish too. "Did you already forget who you're talking to?"

"Sure I haven't." He replied blankly. "You're that Hero Association's pride and joy. Tailwind of Trouble."

She raised a vexed eyebrow. "…Excuse me?"

"No wait, that's not it…" He put a ponderous finger to chin, mentally glancing over the small index of names he kept in his head. "Towel of Torment, I think…"

"Excuse me?!" Her voice cracked into a squeak from the indignity being hurled at her. She couldn't even believe what she was dealing with right now.

"Ah!" He snapped his fingers with a smile, certain that he had it now. "Gassy Green Gust!"

"Damn you! It's Tatsumaki!" A tear hung comically off of her saucer-wide eyes. The concrete beneath her shoes erupted from all sides of her, as if she weighed several hundred tons.

As her feet slowly left the ground, her curly green hair began to sway with her power – something it only did when she was deeply disturbed.

"This won't be like it was back at City A, B-Class." She promised him. "Silver Fang isn't here to save you. In fact, I doubt the old man's even close enough to hear how much you're gonna scream."

Genos, using some array of jet propulsion, shot out of the building to reach where the other two were.

Seeing that he was intent on joining the fight, Saitama shouted up to him, "Genos, stop!"

On cue, the Demon Cyborg halted his advance. "Master! Please allow me to take your place. Shitty brat—I mean Tornado is not worth having to wash off of your fist!"

"Heard that."

Not even a second after her voice rang out, Genos found himself being tossed by an invisible force clear into the dark of the sky. He tried to correct his trajectory and come back down using the repulsors in his hands and feet, but instead ended up spinning aerial flaming donuts as he continued to fly Bitchy Esper Airways.

Saitama's head sweat-dropped, but he nevertheless finished what he was going to say.

"Sit this one out, man." His face turned serious and defined as he turned to glare sharply at the opponent he was standing off with. "I don't know why you seem so upset with me, but you'll pay for turning Genos into a Ukrainian weather balloon."

Tatsumaki smirked at the gullibility he showed. Did he actually think he'd make it a single step towards her if she was generous enough to let him move on her at all?

"Here; why don't I give us some light." She snapped her fingers, and the darkness caused by the blackout was blown away by the rekindling of the street lamps. "Because when I drop you, I want you to see just how far you fall."

"Whoa…" Instead of seeming harrowed by her threat, Saitama widened his eyes with wonder at how she single-handedly brought electricity back to the entire block. "WHOOAA." His serious face quickly reverted back into its simple smile. "You can just do that?"

She returned his creepy stare with a perplexed countenance of her own. "What are you talking about, punk?"

"Hey, does that mean you can bring electricity back anywhere? An apartment for example?"

She furrowed her eyebrow in annoyance. His motivations were painfully plain and palpable.

"You…want me to give your house free power?"

"Well, it's just…" He scratched his cheek submissively, "you make it look so easy. At least easier than it would be to pay for."

"Hmph!" She scoffed. This guy was even cheaper than his artist made him look. "It doesn't just look easy. To me, exercising this level of power is the same as flexing my pinky finger."

"Awesome!" His eyes lit up.

"But if you think I'll just do it out of the goodness of my heart, you don't know me very well. Let's make a wager. If you manage to lay even a single finger on me, I'll keep your electricity alive long enough for you to catch up on your next bill."

His smile widened into an obnoxious crescent. "You mean it?!"

"But!" She held up an intermitting finger. "If I beat you..." Now it was her turn to smile. And it didn't look half as innocent as his. "You have to leave the Association as soon as you come out of your coma. And not just leave. You have to quit being a hero." Her eyes narrowed to emphasize her demand. "Indefinitely."

Saitama looked at her solemnly. He seriously wasn't sure why she had such a grievance with him, but he figured it wasn't worth an explanation if he won anyway. He just wished that other heroes could come up with more creative ideas for challenges. Like video game matches, or for kids like her, maybe Hangman. At this point though, he suspected that she just wanted to fight to blow off some steam. Losing that robot thing probably hurt her more than he realized, and who knows how long she had been chasing it.

"Oh come on, do we really have to do it this way?" He appealed for lighter alternatives. "How about we settle this over a friendly contest of Rock-Paper-Scissors?"

She gave him a flippant look. "Sorry, I can't hear you from all the way over there. Why don't you try coming closer," the malicious green glow in her eyes intensified, "…then we can talk."

Saitama sighed hopelessly and balled his hands into fists. "Have it your way, kid…" He raised his fists up and got into a fighting stance. He didn't take his gaze off of her, even as a familiar cyborg finally stuck his awkward landing in a nearby telephone pole. Instead, he looked her square in the eye, and as the ball dropped on their private match, he gave her his intention:

"I'm putting you to bed."