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Summary
“Saitama, you head up to the top floors. We need some heavy lifting up there,” he says, reading off his clip board. “See the new guy.”
Saitama nods, zipping up his jumpsuit and trying to gulp down the dregs of his coffee as he steps onto the elevator. He wasn’t really sure why people who carried around a clipboard and wore a tie got paid a couple grand more than he did, because he carried around cement bags, buckets filled with literal shit and other various pieces of metal or piping.
He’s about to flick the cover up over the elevator latch, and pauses.
“New guy?”