Jordan's smooth, magnetic voice resonated in Sitch's mind, easing some of his tension.
The executive took a careful breath. "Lord Jordan Evans, didn't you leave with Miss Tornado? You're back, so... where is she?"
Compared to the reliable, mild-mannered Jordan, he was far more concerned about locating that particular green-haired menace.
The mental voice paused for two seconds. Sitch had the distinct impression the S-Class hero was choosing his words carefully.
"Don't worry. Tornado's fine. I do need a small favor, though. You're alone in your office right now, correct?"
"Yes! I'm in my office."
"Good. I'm coming in."
Dazzling blue light flared. Sitch rubbed his eyes.
Jordan's tall figure materialized in the center of the office. He took two steps to the sofa and gently set something down.
When he stepped aside, revealing what—no, who—lay on the sofa, Sitch's barely-calmed heart nearly stopped.
Wait. What did you do to Miss Tornado?!
Cold sweat poured down his face. His mind conjured increasingly detailed scenarios, none of them good.
The Mind Network picked up his spiraling thoughts. Jordan raised his hands placatingly, expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Relax. It's not what you're thinking. Tornado seemed tired. Let her rest here with you for a bit. That shouldn't be too much trouble, right?"
"Ha! No trouble at all! Thank you so much for your consideration!"
Before Sitch could clarify that he'd meant no, Jordan was already waving goodbye and vanishing in a flash of blue psychic light.
"I meant to say... wait!!"
Too late.
Time returned to the present.
Lord Jordan Evans, how could you be so irresponsible as to leave Tornado here with me? How am I supposed to explain this to her when she wakes up? My head hurts.
After killing countless brain cells, Sitch gave up thinking altogether.
No point dwelling on it. Work still needed doing.
He sighed silently and threw himself back into the endless paperwork, losing track of time.
Another hour passed.
Tatsumaki's eyes fluttered open with a soft sound.
An unfamiliar ceiling greeted her.
Wait. Actually, this looked vaguely familiar.
Movement in the quiet office. Sitch's head snapped up reflexively, and his expression transformed into pure dread.
"Miss Tornado. You're... awake."
Power radiated from her like heat shimmer. Tatsumaki looked freshly roused from sleep—she smacked her lips, wiped away the drool from the corner of her mouth, and sat up on the sofa with a bewildered expression.
Taking in the darkened headquarters interior, she rubbed her forehead. There was an actual red mark there, like she'd been punched. Gradually, memory returned.
Her rosy cheeks flushed crimson. Then visibly darkened.
That bastard. How dare he.
Behind his desk, Sitch watched Tatsumaki's fist clench and tremble. Green light began flickering around her knuckles. His vision went dark with resignation.
Without a word, he grabbed the nearest document stack and closed his eyes.
Goodbye, my office.
The next instant, blinding green light filled the entire room.
The reinforced alloy door crumpled like waste paper, torn from its hinges and launched into the corridor wall where it embedded itself a meter deep.
Violent telekinetic energy erupted from Sitch's office, accompanied by a scream of pure, humiliated rage.
Achoo!
Jordan rubbed his nose, surrounded by the warm chaos of empty plates and bottles.
Having not seen each other in a while, Saitama and Bang drank with abandon. Arms slung around shoulders. Wild gestures. Humming tunes that only men of a certain mind understood.
Neither was middle-aged, but both convincingly portrayed the demeanor of drunk salarymen.
At this point, calling these two "heroes" would strain credibility.
King, who'd only recently joined their circle, was meeting Bang for the first time. Not particularly social by nature, he'd been reserved during the meal.
Bang had witnessed King's training session earlier. Saitama possessed the aura of an ordinary person—utterly unremarkable. But when King sat silent, the powerful presence he exuded with every gesture made the old martial artist raise an eyebrow.
Could this scarred man be more than he appeared?
After all, the aura of a strong person couldn't be faked.
King had no idea about Bang's assessment. Right now, he was calculating whether he'd manage to eat his fill tonight.
A week of cohabitation—and brutal gaming defeats—had taught him how miserable meals at Saitama's house could be. An ordinary person survived by keeping a low profile, waiting until the metabolic freaks around him slowed down before joining the fray.
Strategy games were King's forte, but it was those painful experiences that had truly driven the lesson home.
Too painful to recall. Best not to dwell on the past.
Saitama's apartment filled with the warmth of home cooking. The four members of the hot pot team had mostly stripped down to undershirts, eating until sweat dripped.
Jordan used telekinesis to open the balcony and kitchen windows. Night air from the abandoned district swept through, bringing relief.
By now, Tornado should be awake.
Jordan knew his body well. He rarely caught colds.
That sneeze had definitely been someone thinking about him.
Who had he offended recently?
Obviously that green-haired psychic currently residing in A-City.
Every other creature—regardless of species—had been systematically eliminated by F-boy, who'd recently become obsessed with Euler-ing things into submission.
Even knowing Tatsumaki had her sights on him, Jordan wasn't particularly concerned.
As he'd told Bang earlier, that arrogant brat might be mischievous, but she understood restraint when it mattered.
Every battle left cities damaged, true. But the number of civilians she saved was several times higher than other heroes.
As long as he avoided taboo phrases like "short," "kid," "flat," or "weak," she could throw her tantrum until she burned out.
Besides, Tornado hadn't even beaten Jordan in his normal state this time. In gaming terms, she hadn't cleared the first phase of the boss fight.
Even if his victory had involved ethically questionable sneak attacks.
There were still brand new modes waiting to be unlocked. Full Power Jordan. Sage Mode Jordan. Serious Jordan.
If Tatsumaki knew all that, her expression would probably be priceless.
A chilled beer bottle appeared in front of him.
Cool foam bubbled from the open top. Bang leaned closer, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with alcohol.