Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(Year 38 AC - Wednesday)

“Great. Another rejection.”

Inside his apartment that his parents helped him get, an eighteen year old Lin Ling sat at his desk reading yet another rejection email. Thanks to his parents he had his bills down for a few months, but that would quickly catch up to him if he didn’t find a job.

He put his head down on his desk, whining, “why are there so many openings if nobody wants to hire me…”

From his desk, Lin Ling looked out his window and saw a blimp float by, with the perfect hero Nice on it.

“Are you feeling down? Like you can’t keep on keeping on? That you're lost in a thick forest?” The blimp TV screen held Nice on it, walking through a forest.

“Yes…” Lin Ling mumbled to himself.

“Well then, allow me to guide you out… on A Hero’s Resolve where I’ll teach you to live like a hero.” The screen flipped to clips of A Hero’s Resolve, a new TV show where heroes show how they live. Nice continued to speak over it, but he tuned it out.

Lin Ling groaned at the advertisement, at how mediocre it was. If only there was someone that could write better ads for heroes like Nice. Hell, he could probably do better.

“Wait… advertisement… that could work!” 

He shot up from the desk and immediately searched up advertisement job opportunities on his laptop. A few internships popped up, with one of them standing out. 

“Intern needed… blah blah blah… help produce ads for Treeman!” Lin Ling read aloud, his excitement growing. The more he read, the more it seemed to stand out. He’d be able to write ads for Nice! Heck, he might even meet him! And Moon too!

As quickly as he could, he filled out the application form and sent it to the company. He couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the chance of working with some of his favorite heroes. So giddy, in fact, that he almost missed another job opportunity. 

When Lin Ling went to shut off his laptop, something caught his eye. Back on the window where he searched up advertisement opportunities, there was one that didn’t have anything to do with advertisement as far as he could see. 

In search of a CEO. If qualified, please click the link. 

He stared at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded and deadpanned.

“There is no way this is how you become a CEO.” The eighteen year old thought to himself.

When he clicked on the link, the application process was rather straight forward. All you needed was a résumé. He looked at the company name: ASTA and it turns out it was a Hero Agency, or at least one trying to be. Lin Ling looked them up and found that they didn’t have any heroes at the moment.  

“No wonder the application process is so short. They’re nobody. I doubt they’d have a chance to compete with any of the big hero agencies.” 

Even so, he still looked a bit deeper. ASTA had just been newly made and it looks like they also dabble in the medical field. An interesting choice, but not an unfounded one. 

Flipping back to the application, Lin Ling scrolled down to the job description and immediately stopped as he looked at it. It was almost five pages long!

“What do you even do as a CEO that needs three pages! Don’t you just write emails?” The brown haired boy couldn’t believe it. All CEO’s do is just write emails and stuff. Right?

“I am NOT reading all that.” He scrolled back up to the top and began to fill out the application. 

Day of birth, name, blah blah blah, it was just like any other application. Bringing up a document, he quickly wrote out a resume. He wrote down his high school, the sports he played, and the clubs he was in. Moving to job experience, for his four years in high school, he had worked part time in an XFC near his house, with him being promoted to assistant manager his senior. Writing that down, he was just about to put 1 year of management experience to finish the résumé when something shook his building.

Outside his window, explosions rocked his apartment as a monster flew by. Looking out, Lin Ling saw a villain… thing? It looked like a human that was corrupted by something. Behind it, it looked like someone was chasing it.

“Is that… Queen’s back!?” 

Rank #2 hero Queen flew past his building, spear in hand as she chased down the monster down the freeway. He couldn’t believe it, he hadn’t seen Queen since she lost in the 18th Heroes Tournament. Lin Ling watched in awe as she effortlessly dodged the missiles the creatures launched until she disappeared past his view. 

“Wow… she’s so cool. I wish I was a hero.” The young adult said as he walked back to his desk to finish his application. 

Perhaps, if he had not been so enraptured by Queen and his dream of being a hero, he would have noticed that he pressed a 2 after the 1 when his apartment shook. Perhaps, in another life, he would have noticed his mistake and adhered to fate. But, in this life… he defied the hand of fate and set himself onto a very different path, even if he didn’t mean to.

(The Next Day - Morning - Thursday)

Lin Ling, freshly showered, dressed, and still partly asleep, sat at his desk with his laptop open. He figured he should check his email to see if he got a response from any of the many applications he filled. 

“Nothing… great.” He scrolled through his email until something caught his eye: a response from ASTA.

That was odd. Why would they reject his application so quickly? Yes, they wouldn’t give someone like him a bunch of thought, but still, this was pretty quick for a rejection. 

Opening it, he scanned through it briefly. “Hello, Mr Ling… eager to receive your application… discussed it with our team… and were pleased to tell you that you got the position?!” His eyes shot open wide.

“What!” “What!” He said both aloud and in his mind.

This had to be a joke, right? Just a bit of sleep deprivation. That's all. He’s just tired.

He rubbed his eyes, determined to see that this was just his imagination, but to his dismay, the words didn’t change. Now he was reading each and every word.  

“Your salary will be… WHAT?! And we expect you TOMORROW MORNING!??? Our office is located at…” He trailed off, unable to think clearly.

Now he had to be dreaming. Not to even touch the salary that was higher than he thought possible (especially for such a small company), they expected him to be there tomorrow! Tomorrow! As in 24 hours from now!

What would he wear! How would he get there! More importantly, why the heck was he hired! What is going on!!!

(The Next Day. Again. Friday)

Stumbling off a bus he caught a ride on, now CEO Lin Ling fixed his tie while walking to the ASTA office. He didn’t know what to wear, so he went out and bought a black suit and tie with a white shirt. Better to be safe than sorry. 

He double checked the address on his phone. “This is the office? This place looks abandoned!”

Standing before him was a two story building with the only identifier being a worn down sign that held ASTA in a basic font. It had definitely seen better days. He could work with it, though. Never judge a book by its cover.

Mustering his courage, he walked confidently to the door and into the building, ignoring the part of him that was out of his mind nervous and slightly panicked. The lobby was bland; some couches and chairs, with a few plants and tables. Better than the outside at the very least. In the middle of the room there was a semi circle desk that must be the reception desk with a woman working intently on a laptop behind it. 

Walking up to it as confident as he could, Lin Ling opened his mouth to say something but the woman spoke first. “You’re Lin Ling, yes?”

“H-how’d you know?” He responded back before he could think of a more dignified response for a CEO.

“We don’t get visitors… plus our new CEO is supposed to come in today.” 

“That… does make sense.” Lin Ling internally kicks himself for asking something he should know. 

“Well, in any case, it's nice to meet you, Lin Ling,” the woman says as she stands up from her desk, extending her hand to him. “I am Mei Li.”

“Oh, are you a receptionist?” He responds back while shaking her hand lightly.

“Oh no, I’m ASTA’s one and only hero recruiter, I just decided to sit out here to meet the new CEO. We aren’t large enough to have a reception desk yet.” She responded back, proud of the fact she’s the recruiter. 

“Oh, and I’m also supposed to give you a tour… not that there’s much to see.” 

“Thats fine, I’m eager to see what I’ll be working with.” 

Leading him to the back of the lobby, Mei walked into a hallway leading further into the building. “That room right there is our conference room.”

“It looks more like a warehouse.”

The room was filled with boxes. There were some on the chairs, on the table, on the floor. They were piled everywhere. Lin Ling was fairly sure a couple piles were taller than him.

“Right now, we put our medical supplies in since we don’t have conferences. Bandages and stuff like that. At least until we get a place to store them.” 

Continuing on, they passed a room with several couches, a fridge, and a couple other appliances.

“That’s the break room, it's got the normal stuff. Coffee machine, fridge, all that. You can put your lunch in the fridge if you bring one.”

As the two kept walking, they passed a few more empty rooms, all of which had dust on their furniture. Why were so many of them empty? 

At the end of the hallway, they stopped at the elevator, which was right next to the stairs. 

Getting onto the elevator, Lin Ling finally spoke his mind, “Umm, Mei… why are so many rooms empty?”

The recruiter sucked in a breath before she answered, “It wasn’t always like this…. When we were founded, this office was filled with people, even if we weren't trying to become a hero agency yet. Then, one day… he just up and vanished.”

“Vanished?” What? You don’t just vanish in X City, not with the amount of heroes present. 

“He was just gone. Nobody could find him. As you’d expect, the company tanked without him, so most of us left. Now it's just us and you. Naturally, you can see why we were eager for someone with so much experience applied to take over.” The elevator dinged and the two stepped out, with Lin Ling following Mei trying not to look like a lost child on the first day of school.

“I’ll do my best.” Lin Ling responds back, trying to sound as casual as he could. Inside his mind, however, was a completely different story, “Experienced!?!? Did they even read my résumé?”

Walking through the second floor hallway, Mei pointed out some larger rooms that had a bunch of empty desks in an open plan arrangement. She pointed out, “that's where marketing was. Jack should be in there somewhere, he’s the head of marketing because of the lack of employees. He likes to talk. A lot. But his head’s in the right place.”

They passed a few more large rooms like that, with her mentioning that, “that one’s the hero management office. I’ll be the only one there, so I should be easy to find. And that one there is the medical management office, the woman in charge of that is out today, so you should meet her tomorrow.” 

Finally, they reached the end of the hall where a paper was taped onto the door: Chief Executive Officer Lin Ling

Pushing open the door, Mei Li revealed a relatively expansive office, “and this will be your office.”

“This is all mine?”

The room was pretty large, especially when it was just for him. The window overlooked the street where he entered the building from. The office itself had one desk, two chairs, and three layers of dust. On the ceiling was a broken fan lazily turned overhead like it was mocking him. 

Looking at the dusty desk, there were three piles of papers, each about a foot high. Lin Ling deadpanned at them. This couldn’t be for him, right?

Turning to the woman next to him, Mei spoke before he could, “Oh, and these are also for you.” 

Mei dropped a stack of folders onto the desk with a resounding thud, “these are this week’s reports and stuff.”

Lin Ling looked down at the stacks. Then at Mei. Then back at the stacks. 

“...I have to read all these?” 

“You’re the CEO, aren’t you?” 

Lin Ling could already feel a migraine forming.

Lin Ling had reached a conclusion: ASTA is completely doomed.

After reading through papers and reports for what felt like days (actually just an hour or two), there was no way this company could be saved by him. The financial reports were pretty bad to say the least. ASTA was barely able to pay the bills, let alone the employees. 

“I don’t even know how to pay rent, how am I supposed to pay salaries?!”

Moving onto the budget, what was going on? How in the world was ASTA spending the same amount of money on COFFEE as rent? There’s like only three people working! 

Spinning around in his chair, Lin Ling gazed down at the street outside. He wanted to laugh at the stupidity of everything that was going on, at the idea that he was supposed to save this company. What a day….

And then, outside his window, another blimp drifted lazily by. This time it wasn’t Nice, it was some B-list hero of another low level hero agency named Iron Arm, flexing his way through an overproduced ad with explosions behind him.

Lin Ling groaned. “Who even falls for this junk? That was terrible.”

He squinted out of the window, staring at a newspaper blowing in the wind, then back up at the blimp. Then an idea sparked in his mind, faint, but still there.

“Wait… ads…”

He spun back around to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper alongside a pen. ASTA didn’t have any heroes, yes, but they could definitely attract some to them since it seems like the recruitment wasn’t going well. 

“Sorry Mei!”

What does he want ASTA to be? Genuine, obviously, but what else? Well, what is a hero? Anybody. Anyone could be a hero. Not to mention, someone made by the people to protect them and give them hope. Bouncing back to ASTA itself, what is it right now? Well, they dabble in the medical field, so he should probably include that too….

After a bit more brainstorming, Lin Ling had finally thought out what he wanted ASTA to be. An agency where heroes could be just heroes and not but heroes. An agency focused on protecting rather than profit. An agency to save and protect. 

He stood up out of his chair and, grabbing the paper he brainstormed on, he walked around his desk and out of his office. He walked to the marketing office and knocked on the door frame as he walked in, hesitantly saying, “Jack…? You in here?”

Lin Ling peeked into the office. The space was cluttered with old posters and crumpled drafts taped to the walls, slogans like “ASTA: Healing the Future!” written in five different fonts. In the middle, on the floor sat Jack, a thin man in glasses typing furiously while mumbling to himself. 

“Jack?” Lin Ling raised his hand weakly. 

Jack looked up, eyes sparkling like he’d just discovered fire. “Ah! CEO! Welcome, welcome, welcome to my creative laboratory!” 

Lin Ling blinked. “…It’s an office.” 

“An office is just a blank canvas begging to be painted on by my brush of innovation!” 

Lin Ling immediately regretted this.

“Please just call me Lin Ling.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“I wonder what would happen if I just walked out right now.”

Focusing back in, Lin Ling summoned all the confidence he had as he went to propose his idea. This wasn’t stupid, this was his brand for ASTA, he can do this. CEO Lin Ling for the win.

Lin Ling put the crumpled paper he wrote his ideas on forward. “Okay, look. We don’t have any heroes, but I think we can attract some and I think we can make an ad from this.” 

Jack grabbed it with trembling hands, eyes widening like he’d been handed a sacred text from the gods. “Ohhh… authenticity! A return to the roots of heroism! Pure! Untouched by scandal!” 

“Uh… yeah, sure…. Just make it so people believe we’re not total garbage.” 

Jack slammed the paper on the desk. “Say no more, CEO. We’re going to sell sincerity like nobody’s ever sold sincerity before.” 

“…Please don’t phrase it like that.”

(8 hours later)

After multiple iterations, a lunch break, and dinner break, and a bunch of prayers to whatever was out there by Lin Ling, the duo (with the occasional input of Mei) had finally crafted a complete ad. Jack and him spliced together a bunch of uncopyrighted videos of heroes, both fighting and helping people, with a section at the end with him on camera. It turned out Jack had some music on his computer, so they put it in as well. Wanting to check it one last time, Lin Ling pressed play.

“What is a hero?” 

“A ray of light in the darkness.”

“A guardian in a moment of need.”

“A saviour, made by and for the people!”

“We live in a world where heroes are forged by trust. You have the power to create heroes.” 

“And with hardwork, you can become one too!” Lin Ling walked onto the screen.

“At ASTA, we don’t chase fame, we chase hope. Be the hero the world needs. With us.” 

“ASTA: To save and protect!”

The screen displayed a QR code to their recruitment page before fading to black. 

Lin Ling buried his face in his hands. “It looks like I’m being held at gunpoint….” 

“No, no, no,” Jack gasped, “That was genius! The rawness! The authenticity! The unshakable awkward charm!”

 “Pretty sure that last part isn’t a compliment…” Lin Ling muttered. 

Mei leaned against the doorway, sipping a coffee. “Honestly? You didn’t sound like a total idiot. That’s a win for us.” 

Lin Ling managed a weak smile. “Thanks, I guess. At least not too many people should see this….”

Jack clicked the mouse with a flourish. “Too late.” 

“…Too late what?” 

“I uploaded it. To every channel. To FOMO. Everywhere. ASTA is back, baby! By tonight this ad will be seen across the city! You might even see it on a blimp going home!”

Lin Ling felt his soul leave his body. “Goodbye, cruel world…”

(Two days later, on Monday)

Once again, Lin Ling found himself getting off his bus, just across the street from the ASTA office at 8 AM sharp. He decided to show up an hour early to try to be a good CEO. The weekend had been awful, between dreading himself on that corny ad and trying to think of ways to pull his company away from the edge of bankruptcy, he hadn’t had a fun time. How he missed the unemployment he enjoyed just a week ago.

Looking at the office before he crossed the road to get to it, his eyes fell upon something, or rather someone. Multiple someones.

No. This couldn’t be right, he had to just be seeing things.

He rubbed his eyes and gazed back at the doors to the lobby. The scene stood unchanged. 

There was a line at the lobby door. It wasn’t long, but a line was still there. Outside the door, there were four to five people standing, waiting for the office to open. By the looks of it, they wanted to be/are heroes. Scratch that, they’re definitely heroes.

Staring across the road, one thought came to Lin Ling’s mind. “I am so screwed.”

Chapter Text

Lin Ling had hoped, prayed even, that the heroes (or wannabe heroes) he saw outside ASTA’s door were just a hallucination brought on by stress. Unfortunately, however, hallucinations didn’t usually knock on the lobby doors or try to pull on them.

He had snuck in through the backdoor that Mei had shown him on Friday to avoid getting talked to before he was ready. Not that he was going to be ready at all. This was a nightmare.

Currently, he was carrying the stacks of boxes out of the conference room as fast as he could and putting them in one of the deserted office rooms. He had to clear out the room since he had no idea where to have the interviews in. It didn’t help that he wasn’t too sure what medical supplies were in the boxes so he had to be careful with them.

Just as he was about done with emptying the conference room, Lin Ling stopped, balancing a box against his hip before setting it down with a dull thud. The air smelled faintly of cardboard, rubbing alcohol, and dust. He leaned against the nearest stack, breathing heavily, and for the first time that morning, he let himself pause.

Of course, the silence pressed in.

“Why am I even doing this?”

The thought came uninvited, sharp, and ugly, and once it arrived it refused to leave. He glanced around the cluttered room: rows of boxes stuffed with bandages and sterile gauze, some stacked so high they looked ready to topple. Was this what CEOs did? Haul supplies around in a dying company nobody cared about?

His mind flickered back to last week. Queen, blazing through the sky with her spear, missiles exploding all around her and yet she never wavered. She moved like she was born for it, like the city was hers to protect and nothing could shake her resolve.

That was a hero.

And him? He was sweating over cardboard and paper cuts. He wasn’t inspiring anyone. He wasn’t saving anyone. He wasn’t even sure what his job was.

Mei’s words replayed in his head: “someone with so much experience.”

He grimaced. That couldn’t have been serious. His experience amounted to babysitting lazy coworkers at a fast-food chain. Half the time, they ignored him, and the other half, he doubted they respected him at all. And yet here he was, CEO of a company barely clinging to life. A title that felt less like an achievement and more like a cruel joke.

His chest tightened. It felt like standing on the edge of a knife: any wrong step and he’d cut himself to pieces.

He rubbed his palms against his thighs, then stared at them. Calloused from part-time work, nicked from cardboard edges. These weren’t a hero’s hands. They weren’t hands meant for cameras or capes.

But once… once, he used to think they could be.

He remembered draping a blanket around his shoulders as a kid, leaping off the couch with a broomstick for a weapon, pretending he was charging into battle. Back then, the world had felt huge and full of possibility, and he had always been the one to win. The one people cheered for. Heroes mattered. And deep down, he wanted to matter too.

Now? Now he was stuck in a half-empty office, dragging boxes around for a company most people didn’t even know existed.

He wasn’t dumb, wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was painfully average. He didn’t have any special skills, nor any real talents, or really anything to make him remarkable. 

He shut his eyes. He could walk away. It wasn’t like anyone would stop him. No one would blame him. He could go back home, find a part-time job, scrape by until his parents grew too tired of helping him. It would be easier. Safer. It’s not like he didn’t have other options, that advertising firm hadn’t said no to his internship yet.

So why hadn’t he?

The answer slipped in quietly, so faint it was almost embarrassing to admit even to himself. Maybe it wasn’t totally about the job… maybe it wasn’t completely about the money.

Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, someone had looked at him and believed he could do something. 

Mei had said it with a straight face, no hesitation. Like it was obvious he had the skills. Like she trusted him. And that tiny flicker of trust, it lit something he thought he’d buried years ago.

He let out a shaky breath. Maybe he was proud… maybe he was stubborn… but more than anything, he wanted that belief to be real.

A knock rattled the lobby doors, jolting him upright. Voices filtered faintly down the hall; excited, eager, impatient. The applicants.

Lin Ling straightened, brushing the dust from his shirt. His pulse hammered in his ears, but he forced his arms back into motion, lifting another box.

“CEO, huh?” he muttered, half to the box, half to himself. “Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

After finishing moving all the boxes and just cleaning the conference room in general, Lin Ling took a moment to prepare. He adjusted his tie, realizing that it was crooked. He fumbled to straighten it, but his hands were shaking, so now it just looked worse. He groaned under his breath. “Great. Nothing says a competent CEO like looking like you lost a fight with your own tie.”

Another round of knocks hit the front doors, louder this time. Someone even shouted, “Hey! Is this ASTA? The posting said interviews were today!”

His heart leapt to his throat. This was it. His first real test. The moment he’d step forward and show whatever CEOs were supposed to show. Authority? Confidence? Both?

He squared his shoulders, marched toward the lobby… and immediately tripped on an empty box he’d left in the hallway.

“Gah…!” He stumbled, barely managing not to fall on his face. His shoulder smacked the wall instead, sending a puff of dust raining down from the ceiling tiles.

Lin Ling froze, wincing. Hopefully they didn’t hear…

“Did the ceiling just collapse in there?” a muffled voice asked from outside.

“Maybe it’s some kind of test,” another whispered, almost reverently.

Lin Ling buried his face in his hands for half a second before forcing himself upright. “Okay, Ling, get it together. You’re the CEO. The boss. The-”

The lobby doors rattled again.

“-the guy who’s about to pass out if the doors don't open right now.”

He unlocked the doors and pulled them open. 

A small crowd of would-be heroes was crammed outside, some in mismatched training outfits, others in knock-off costumes, and one guy who looked like he’d come straight from his day job at the grocery store. They all straightened when they saw him.

Lin Ling blinked at them. They blinked back.

“Uh…” He tried to summon a CEO worthy greeting, something inspiring and professional. What came out instead was “Welcome to ASTA. Please… don’t break anything.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, to his absolute and utter horror, they actually nodded like he said something smart.

“Umm… please come in… we’ll be with you in a little while.” Lin Ling stepped aside, allowing for them to filter into the lobby. 

Eight people entered, each ranging wildly from their reactions. Some were amazed that they got to enter a hero agency, even if just the lobby, while others seemed like they couldn’t care less. 

Once everybody was seated, Lin Ling quickly scurried away, back down the hallway to see if Mei or Jack had arrived.

Once out of sight, Lin Ling pressed his back against the wall and clutched his chest like it might leap straight out. His pulse drummed against his ribs and he slid down into a crouch. He’d done it; he’d opened the door, spoken words, let people in. He hadn’t fainted or accidentally screamed at them.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay… that wasn’t terrible. You didn’t fall on your face. You only… tripped once. Which they probably didn’t notice.”

From the lobby, muffled voices filtered down the hall.

“Did you hear the way he said don’t break anything?” someone asked, awestruck.

“Yeah,” another whispered. “It was like… deep. Like, he doesn’t mean stuff. He means ourselves. Don’t break under the pressure.”

“I think it was a metaphor,” a third agreed. “A real hero test.”

Lin Ling slapped his palm over his face. “Oh no. They think I meant that on purpose.”

Straightening his tie again (still crooked, somehow worse than before), he forced himself upright only for footsteps to echo briskly behind him.

“Lin Ling,” Mei’s voice snapped like a whip. She rounded the corner with a clipboard under one arm, already typing something on her tablet with the other. “Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?”

“Because,” he said flatly, “I am about to vomit.”

Jack ambled in after her, balancing a cup of coffee precariously in one hand. He glanced at Lin Ling, then at Mei, then grinned. “First day nerves. Classic. Don’t worry, boss, first impressions aren’t that important.” He sipped noisily, then added, “Unless you plan to keep these people alive in combat. Which… you do. So, yeah, you’re doomed.”

Lin Ling groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

Mei ignored both of them and peered down the hall. “Are they here already?”

“Yes,” Lin Ling muttered, rubbing his temples. “They’re in the lobby. Waiting.”

“That’s what people do when they arrive for an interview,” Mei said coolly. She adjusted her glasses. “You did unlock the doors, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you said something coherent?”

Lin Ling hesitated, “...Define coherent.”

Before Mei could respond, Jack leaned past them, looking toward the lobby. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

In the lobby, the eight applicants sat in mismatched chairs or couches, buzzing with energy. The air felt thick with nervous excitement, like they were waiting to be called into battle instead of a job interview.

One lanky teenager in oversized goggles bounced his leg furiously, eyes darting around. “I bet he’s testing us right now! Like, seeing who stays calm under pressure.”

The man in the grocery store uniform didn’t even look up from his phone. “Pretty sure he just went for coffee.”

The goggle kid gasped. “Patience is the first trial!”

A woman in a patched-up bodysuit shushed them both. “Quiet. This is sacred ground. Heroes may have walked these halls.”

“Heroes?” the grocery guy said. He gestured at the cracked ceiling tile Lin Ling had dislodged earlier. “Pretty sure termites walked these halls.”

Lin Ling peeked around the corner and nearly groaned out loud. They were all… so earnest, so expectant. At least most of them… one of them looked like he didn’t want to be here. He could practically feel their hope radiating across the room.

“This is a mistake,” he whispered.

Mei shoved a clipboard into his hands. “Mistake or not, you’re in charge. They’re here. Now act like it.”

Jack clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Just wing it, boss. You’ve got that whole mysterious leader vibe going. They’re eating it up.”

“Mysterious leader vibe?!” Lin Ling squeaked.

But Mei was already striding into the lobby, heels clicking sharply. “Applicants,” she announced. “We’ll begin interviews shortly.”

They immediately straightened in their chairs like soldiers at inspection. Even the grocery-store guy put his phone away.

Lin Ling shuffled in after her, clutching the clipboard like a shield. Every pair of eyes landed on him at once. He froze, his throat dry.

Say something. Something inspiring. Something CEO like.

“...Hi,” he croaked.

A few of them nodded solemnly, as though he had just uttered some profound code word.

He cleared his throat. “We’ll, um, get started soon. Please don’t… uh…” He panicked, searching for words. “…don’t fight each other… please.”

Another beat of silence.

Then the goggle kid whispered, awestruck, “He means teamwork. That’s the second trial.”

Lin Ling wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

Mei pinched the bridge of her nose. Jack nearly spit out his coffee trying not to laugh.

And with that, the first interviews began.

Lin Ling had decided to split up the interviews just for the sake of his mental health. He would handle four of the applicants, with Mei and Jack each having two of the other four. He would take his interviewees to the now cleaned conference room, while Mei and Jack would take theirs into the empty office rooms. 

He had set out some parameters for the heroes. Obviously, he wanted a hero to be genuine in their desire to protect. Next, a hero shouldn’t want to be a hero for fame and glory. Finally, a hero should…

He froze mid-thought, staring at the clipboard he was writing on. “...What’s the third one?” he whispered.

Jack leaned over his shoulder, slurping his coffee. “That they can fight?”

“That they won’t die immediately,” Mei corrected. “Don’t overthink this. You ask, you listen, you make a decision. Done.”

“Ask what?” Lin Ling asked weakly.

“Anything,” Mei said. “You’ll know if they’re worth your time.”

“Great,” he muttered. “I’ll just… wing it.”

The goggled teenager bounded into the conference room like it was the Olympics. “Trial number three,” he whispered to himself, eyes gleaming.

“Umm… please sit.” 

“I will!” the kid barked, and then immediately sat criss cross applesauce on the floor.

Lin Ling blinked. “Uh… the chair.”

“Of course,” the kid said solemnly, as though Lin Ling had just issued a test of adaptability.

Lin Ling blinked at him. “Uh… name?”

“Hero name Jetburst,” the kid declared, slamming his fists on the table. “I haven’t registered it yet but I call dibs. My power is… okay, it’s technically just running fast, but if you yell when you do it, it feels like flying. My trust value isn’t giant… but it's not small either!”

Lin Ling stared. “…Right.” He tried to remember his first question. “So… why do you want to be a hero?”

“To prove I can endure your tests!” Jetburst said instantly. “You told us not to fight each other: that’s teamwork. You told us not to break anything: that’s mental resilience. And now… you want to see if I have the willpower to keep chasing my dream!”

Lin Ling pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Sure. That’s… close enough.”

The man walked in with all the enthusiasm of someone clocking in for overtime. He didn’t even sit until Lin Ling awkwardly gestured at the chair.

“Name?” Lin Ling asked.

“Kevin.”

“... Hero name?”

“Kevin.”

Lin Ling blinked. “... Right. Uh. Why do you want to be a hero?”

Kevin shrugged. “Bills. Rent’s going up, man. You pay, I punch stuff. Simple as that.”

Lin Ling opened his mouth, then shut it. Technically, that was… honest. Blunt, but honest. He glanced at his list of qualities in his head. Genuine desire to protect? Maybe not. But at least Kevin wasn’t lying.

On his clipboard he scribbled down, Motivation=Questionable

“Okay,” Lin Ling said faintly. “Thank you for your… honesty.”

Kevin nodded like he’d just aced a job interview at a factory.

Later, when he passed the hallway, he overheard Mei grilling her applicant with rapid-fire questions, her tone sharp as glass.

Jack, meanwhile, was laughing with his interviewee like they were already best friends.

Lin Ling tightened his grip on the clipboard. He wasn’t tough like Mei, and he wasn’t charming like Jack. He was just… him. He was just Lin Ling….

The next hero’s suit was worn, seams fraying, but her posture was steady. She bowed slightly before sitting. “Hero name: Targe. My trust lets me form shields. Not too strong ones… but enough to cover people.”

Lin Ling asked, “Why do you want to be a hero?” 

Instead, she said softly, “Because I know what it was like not to have anyone protecting me. If I can stop someone else from feeling that way, then… that’s enough.”

Lin Ling froze. For the first time, he had no snark, no mental commentary. He just… sat there.

“Right,” he finally said, voice rough. “That… makes sense.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you, sir.”

Sir. He wasn’t used to anyone calling him that. It hit harder than he expected.

By the time the last applicant walked in, a tall guy with slicked-back hair and way too much cologne. Lin Ling was already wilting.

“I’ll be blunt,” the man said, leaning back casually. “I don’t need this agency. You need me. Fame, glory, sponsorships. I bring the spotlight. You bring the paycheck. Easy deal.”

Lin Ling grimaced. “Nope.”

But before he could say anything, the man leaned forward with a smirk. “What do you say, boss?”

Lin Ling looked at his crooked tie in the reflection of the water pitcher, then at the clipboard, then at the smug man across from him.

“I say… no. Please see yourself out.”

The words felt strange in his mouth. Firm. Definite. But it made the man’s smirk falter.

For the first time that day, Lin Ling didn’t feel like he was fumbling.

Now with the seven interviewees’ left sitting back in the lobby, the trio met up in the conference room. Out of the seven, Lin Ling had estimated that they would be able to manage about four of them. If they reallocated some of the budget (no more copious amounts of coffee), it should be okay… and if need be, Lin Ling could always just change his salary. It's not like he needs that much money anyways. 

Out of his three, Lin Ling had chosen Jetburst and Targe (he really needed to ask their real name) and he let Mei and Jack each choose one of theirs. Similarly, he split it up so that he would manage his two and the others would manage theirs. At least, until they had enough popularity (also known as money) so that they could hire managers specifically for them. Personally, he would have liked to give them his heroes since they’d probably be a better manager, but they actually do something in their positions so 

Jack leaned back in his chair, propping his boots on the table and stretching like this was a casual coffee break. “Well,” he drawled, “we’ve got a speedster, a human shield, and Kevin.”

“Kevin?” Mei repeated flatly.

“He’s honest,” Lin Ling muttered, flipping through his clipboard again. “And he… punches stuff.”

“That’s not a qualification.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s more than I had at his age.”

Mei shot him a glare before turning back to Lin Ling. “You’re really planning to take Jetburst and Targe?”

“Yes,” Lin Ling said before he could think twice. The word surprised him, it came out steady, without the usual stammer. “They’re not perfect, but… they’re trying for the right reasons. That matters.”

For a second, Mei just studied him. Her eyes narrowed, calculating, but she didn’t argue. Instead she clicked her pen shut. “Fine. But if they fold under pressure, it’s on you.”

“Everything’s on me,” Lin Ling muttered under his breath.

Jack smirked and lifted his coffee cup in a mock-toast. “Now you’re starting to sound like a boss.”

Back in the lobby, the recruits were buzzing. Jetburst paced in quick little circles, whispering “Trial complete, trial complete” like a mantra. Targe sat with her hands folded in her lap, composed, though the smallest of smiles tugged at her mouth. Kevin scrolled on his phone, apparently satisfied with life.

The slick-haired man Lin Ling had rejected had long since stormed out, muttering under his breath about wasting talent.

Lin Ling lingered in the doorway, watching the rest of them. His heart twisted. These weren’t shining stars of the hero world. They weren’t X, or Nice, or anythign even close. They were… normal. Rough edges, homemade gear, nerves they tried to hide. But they’d chosen to be here. They’d chosen him.

Back in the conference room, Mei laid down her tablet with a snap. “I’ll draw up the contracts. They’ll be probationary, subject to termination.”

“Cheery,” Jack said.

“Practical,” Mei corrected. She glanced at Lin Ling again. “And you’d better figure out how to keep them alive, because if they die under your watch, ASTA dies with them.”

Her words landed like a stone in his stomach, but Lin Ling forced himself to straighten. His tie was still crooked, his shirt was wrinkled, and his hands trembled just a little. But he nodded.

“I’ll figure it out.”

For once, neither Mei nor Jack laughed.

Later, when the new recruits filed into the conference room to hear the results, all eyes landed on him again. His throat closed up. He could almost hear the silence begging for him to mess up.

But then Jetburst whispered to Targe, “This is it, the final trial,” and she gave a small, patient nod.

Lin Ling swallowed hard, lifted the clipboard like a shield again, and said, “Welcome to ASTA.”

It wasn’t polished, it wasn’t inspiring, but the room lit up anyway.

And for the first time since stepping into this building, Lin Ling felt the faintest spark that maybe, just maybe, he could matter too.

Bonus Scene!

Lin Ling closed the conference room door behind him and exhaled, just barely keeping his knees from buckling. First round of interviews done. First recruits chosen. Another migraine: formed. He tugged at his collar, trying to loosen the tie that had been strangling him all day.

His reflection in the darkened lobby window caught his eye, and he froze.

Crooked.

Again.

He yanked the tie straight. Smoothed it down. Stepped back. Looked again. Still crooked.

He tried again, pulling the knot tighter, then looser, then tighter again, as if sheer force would finally make the fabric behave. His reflection only looked back smugly, the tie sitting at a defiant tilt like it knew it was winning.

Lin Ling’s pulse started climbing. He had faced being a CEO, hiring heroes, and just making it this far in general, he would not be defeated by polyester and cotton.

“Why,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “can’t you just… stay… straight….”

With one last tug, the tie slipped sideways and stuck there like it had glued itself on.

Something in him snapped.

Lin Ling ripped the tie off in one violent motion and flung it onto a nearby chair. “Fine! You win! You’re the CEO now!”

The empty lobby echoed with his voice.

He stood there, chest heaving, glaring at the abandoned tie like it had personally wronged him. For a moment, he felt ridiculous, but also… surprisingly lighter.

Then Jack’s voice floated in from the hallway: “Hey, boss, you’re finally starting to look natural. Keep it off.”

Lin Ling’s face burned. He snatched the tie back up and shoved it in his pocket, muttering, “Shut up.”

Chapter Text

(The Next Morning)

Managing heroes was hard. He had expected that. 

Running a hero agency? Not any easier, but that wasn’t a surprise.

What was a surprise? The Hero Affairs Commission. 

As it turns out, the Hero Commission actually has a bunch of rules and regulations and things that must be followed when running an agency. Things that he was not made aware of before ASTA had taken on heroes. Things such as a Hero License… which, apparently, you were supposed to have before hiring heroes.

Coming into work, Lin Ling had checked his inbox when he sat down in his office. What was waiting for him was an email from the Commission. Somehow, the Commission had learned that ASTA had taken on heroes, and wanted to come inspect their license. It was a little unnerving that they had learned that ASTA had recruited heroes so fast since, as far as Lin Ling knew, he hadn’t told anyone that they recruited them. 

Unfortunately, though, he didn’t have time to focus on that since they were sending an inspector to check if they were qualified for a Hero License. Today. 

Overall, he was left with one question: “What in the world is a Hero License!?!?!?”

After some research (searching the internet), he had found that a Hero License is what allows for an agency to legally manage a hero and in order to get one, they had to be inspected to be shown as capable. What capable meant he couldn’t find, but he could make a guess. That the agency had the facilities and the team to support a hero. 

Once again, for the second day in a row, Lin Ling found himself shoveling things out of an office at 8 o’clock in the morning. This time though, he was moving out desks and chairs out of an office room on the first floor to turn it into a… hero room? It's not like ASTA’s heroes need a lot of space now that he thinks about it. One dude runs fast while the other just makes shields and the other two aren’t his problem. At least, not immediately his problem. 

“Focus!” Lin Ling mentally scolded himself. 

He was the CEO, all four of the heroes were his to care for, even if he only directly manages two! 

Bouncing back to his task, Lin Ling tried to think of how to qualify for that damn license. All the internet said was that, alongside other jargon he didn’t understand, that a hero agency had to demonstrate adequate facilities.  

Adequate. That was such a vague word. What did that even mean? Did it mean comfy chairs? A fridge? A vending machine? He didn’t know, and the internet wasn’t helping. Every site he clicked on redirected to legal jargon or a bright, flashing “Contact the Hero Affairs Commission for Clarification!” banner.

Yeah, right. Like he was about to call them and announce he didn’t know what he was doing.

He grabbed the edge of a dusty old desk and tried to drag it out the door, except the desk’s leg promptly caught on the carpet, jerking to a halt with a painful thunk.

“Of course,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Why wouldn’t the furniture be actively working against me?”

The door to the room swung open, and Mei leaned in, already suited up and looking entirely too awake for eight in the morning. “You know, if you wanted to test your strength stats, there are easier ways,” she said, tilting her head.

“Very funny,” Lin Ling said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “We have an inspector coming today.”

“Inspector?” Mei raised a brow. “For what?”

“For the Hero License. Apparently, it’s illegal to, uh…” he paused, looking over the room, “...run a hero agency without one.”

Mei blinked. “You didn’t know that?”

He wanted to sink into the floor. “In my defense, nobody told me that starting an agency involved government paperwork. I thought you just… got a building, made a website, and bam… hero business… isn’t that how all the Hero Agencies started?”

Mei gave him a long, unreadable look. Then she sighed and grabbed the other end of the desk. “You’re lucky you have me.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he muttered.

Together they managed to haul the desk into the hall, where it promptly scraped a line into the drywall. Lin Ling closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. One thing at a time.

Checking back in the room, the duo surveyed the room, with Mei placing her hands on her hips. “You want me to run to the store for anything? Snacks? Water bottles? Those stupid motivational posters?”

He gave her a look. “Do those even work?”

She shrugged. “Depends. Do you think an inspector can fail you if your walls look sad?”

He sighed. “…Get two.”

By the time they finished rearranging, it was already 9:03 a.m., and Lin Ling had exactly twenty-seven minutes before the inspector arrived. He stood in the doorway of the newly christened “Hero Operations Room,” surveying his handiwork.

One folding table. Two mismatched chairs. A first-aid kit he found in a breakroom drawer. A couch he had salvaged from the breakroom. And two crooked posters that Mei had gotten saying ‘Teamworks makes the dream work’ and a ‘Success is 90% effort, 10% Panic.’ 

It was pathetic.

He rubbed his face. “They’re going to shut us down.”

Mei crossed her arms. “You don’t know that.”

“Mei, this place looks like a startup run out of a garage.”

She shrugged. “Then sell it like a startup. Passion, innovation, all that stuff. You’re good at talking, aren’t you?”

He gave a weak laugh. “That’s debatable.”

When the inspector arrived, Lin Ling’s heart nearly stopped.

The woman who stepped in wore a dark navy suit, crisp and spotless, with a badge clipped neatly to her lapel. Her eyes were sharp enough to cut through the glass door, and her expression said she’d rather be auditing tax records than dealing with whatever backwater operation ASTA was.

“Good morning,” she said flatly, flashing her ID. “I’m Inspector Zhen with the Hero Affairs Commission. You’re Lin Ling, correct?”

“Uh… yes! Yes, that’s me.”

Zhen glanced around the lobby. Her frown deepened. “This is your headquarters?”

Lin Ling felt sweat prick at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… currently under some light renovation.”

“Mm.” She scribbled something on her clipboard that sounded like doom. “Let’s begin the inspection. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.” 

She nodded. “Assuming everything is in order.”

“Right,” he said. “In order. Of course.”

Behind her, Mei was quietly giving him two thumbs up from the front desk like some kind of supportive stage mom. 

Lin Ling inhaled slowly, squared his shoulders, and gestured toward the hallway. “Right this way, Inspector. You’ll find that ASTA is… uh… fully operational and compliant with all…”

A loud crash echoed from deeper in the building.

They both froze.

“…most regulations,” he finished weakly.

The inspector arched a brow. “I see.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of panic.

Zhen toured every inch of the building, if you could call it that. She asked questions he didn’t have the faintest clue how to answer.

“How many licensed medical staff are on site?”

“Do your heroes receive mental health evaluations?”

“What safety procedures are in place for civilian engagements?”

Every time she asked something, Lin Ling made a note to “definitely get that handled soon,” which was CEO code for “I have no idea how to do that but please don’t notice.”

When they finally reached the so-called Hero Operations Room, Zhen stopped in the doorway. Her gaze landed on the lone folding table.

“And this,” she said slowly, “is your hero coordination center.”

Mei, bless her, jumped in before Lin Ling could combust. “It’s a minimalist setup: streamlined, distraction-free, very agile.”

Zhen blinked once. “Minimalist,” she repeated.

Lin Ling nodded immediately. “Exactly. It’s about efficiency. We’re prioritizing flexibility and morale.”

The inspector’s pen paused mid-note. Lin Ling swore she was suppressing a sigh.

For the first time that morning, things were quiet. Too quiet. Which, in retrospect, should’ve been his first warning.

Just as things were finally starting to look under control, Lin Ling heard it.

Laughter. Running footsteps. And Jack’s voice echoing down the hall like the herald of doom.

“Hey, boss! We fixed the vending machine!”

Lin Ling froze mid-step. “Oh no.”

Internally, he added another note to his mental to-do list: tell them to show up on time. Their help would’ve made this cleanup faster, except, technically, he’d never told them when to come in.… So this was his fault. 

“Focus! No tangents!”

He shook off the thought and hurried toward the commotion, Mei and Inspector Zhen trailing behind him. The inspector’s heels clicked sharply against the floor, each sound like a countdown to his public execution.

When they rounded the corner, Lin Ling’s stomach dropped.

Jack was standing proudly beside the vending machine, waving enthusiastically. Targe and Jetburst stood on either side of him like accomplices to a crime scene.

“See? Told you we could fix it!” Jack said, sliding a coin in.

The machine rattled, hummed, and a bag of chips began to fall, then jammed halfway down the glass.

Jack frowned. “Huh. Almost got it.”

Before Lin Ling could even open his mouth, Jetburst pointed dramatically. “Fear not! I will pass this trial!”

“Please don’t–” Lin Ling started, but it was already too late.

Jetburst grabbed the sides of the vending machine and began shaking it at supersonic speed. The room filled with a blur of motion and an alarming rattling roar. The chips fell loose at last.

“So easy!” Jetburst declared triumphantly, handing them to Jack like an offering.

Then the vending machine groaned.

Wobbled.

And started to tip forward.

“I got it!” Targe yelled, throwing up a shimmering shield underneath.

The machine hit the shield, bounced, and slammed into the floor with a deafening crash.

Lin Ling wanted to cry.

Smoke began seeping from the vents. Jack blinked. “…That’s normal, right?”

A spark flickered inside. Then another.

Flames licked up from the bottom.

Jetburst screamed, “I can fix it again!” and darted off in a blur. He reappeared seconds later, slamming a fire extinguisher trigger like a man possessed. White foam blasted everywhere, the floor, the walls, Mei’s shoes, the still-burning machine, until the entire hallway looked like a winter wonderland of panic.

Silence.

Lin Ling stood perfectly still. His brain, meanwhile, was screaming into a void.

Beside him, Inspector Zehn slowly turned her head. Her perfectly composed expression was a work of art, somewhere between horrified disbelief and utter judgment.

“Mr. Ling,” she said carefully, “these are your heroes?”

Lin Ling’s smile twitched. “...Yes. They… are.”

“I see.” Zhen folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “Then I think we have quite a bit to discuss.”

Lin Ling’s laugh came out as a small, strangled sound. He clasped his hands together like a man praying for divine mercy.

“…I was afraid you’d say that.”

The office conference room smelled faintly of smoke and lemon disinfectant.
Someone, probably Jack or Jetburst, had gone a little overboard trying to erase the evidence of The Incident. Jetburst was still wringing fire extinguisher foam out of his sleeves. Targe sat straight, trying very hard not to make eye contact with anyone. Jack, meanwhile, was leaning back in his chair with the relaxed confidence of a man who definitely didn’t almost burn the building down ten minutes ago.

Across the table, Inspector Zhen was scribbling something furiously on her clipboard. Every stroke of her pen sounded like another nail in ASTA’s coffin.

Lin Ling sat as still as possible, hands folded, smile frozen. He wasn’t sure whether to apologize again or pretend that this was all an advanced hero training exercise.

Finally, Zhen lowered her pen and exhaled slowly. “Well,” she began, her tone clipped and professional, “that was… an experience.”

Jack beamed. “Right? You don’t get to see dedication like that every day!”

Mei shot him a death glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “Jack.”

“What?”

Zhen cleared her throat. “I’ll be frank, Mr. Ling.”

Lin Ling’s stomach twisted. “Here it comes. The part where she shuts us down and I go home to live under a blanket forever.”

“Your facility is disorganized. Your equipment is outdated. Your heroes–” she paused, glancing at the duo across from her “are enthusiastic, but lack formal discipline. Your financial records are… let’s say optimistic. And your vending machine appears to be a safety hazard.”

Jetburst raised a hand meekly. “It’s fixed now.”

“It’s melted,” Mei muttered.

Zhen sighed. “Yes. Melted.” She turned back to Lin Ling, eyes sharp but not unkind. “However…”

Lin Ling blinked. “However?”

“Despite the chaos,” Zhen continued, “I observed something unusual here today. Your people–” she gestured vaguely at the room “–listen to you. They believe in you. I can’t say why, but they do.”

Lin Ling tried to process that. “So… you’re saying I have… leadership skills?”

Zhen’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m saying that somehow, in this disaster you call an agency, they follow your lead instead of running for the hills. That’s… rare.”

Jack raised his coffee cup in salute. “Told you you had that mysterious boss aura.”

“Please stop saying that,” Lin Ling muttered.

Zhen ignored them both and stood, tucking her clipboard under one arm. “ASTA is not in compliance with every standard. But you have the foundation of something. Initiative. Cooperation. A bizarre level of loyalty.” She gave a small, reluctant sigh. “Therefore, against my better judgment…”

Lin Ling leaned forward, heart pounding.

“…I am approving ASTA for a provisional Hero License.”

There was a stunned beat of silence.

Then Jetburst whooped so loud the ceiling rattled. “Trial complete!”

Targe clapped politely. Jack fist-pumped. Mei just blinked like she couldn’t believe it either.

Lin Ling sat frozen, then exhaled all at once. “Wait. We… passed?”

“Barely,” Zhen said. “Your agency will be monitored for the next three months. Any major violations, and the license will be revoked and you will be shut down. Understood?”

“Completely!” Lin Ling said, nodding so fast it looked like his head might fly off. “No fires, no chaos, no vending machines. I promise.”

“Good,” Zhen replied dryly. “For your sake and for the public’s.”

She paused by the door, then added without turning around, “You might not think you’re cut out for this, Mr. Ling. But sometimes, that’s exactly why people follow you.”

And with that, she left.

"Don't make me regret this."

The door clicked shut. Silence settled again.

Then Jack leaned back with a grin. “See? Piece of cake.”

“Jack,” Mei said. “You’re cleaning up the melted vending machine.”

Jack froze mid-sip. “...You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

As Jack groaned, Jetburst whispered reverently to Targe, “We did it. We survived the ultimate trial.”

Lin Ling slumped against the wall, finally letting out a weak laugh. His clothes were still damp with extinguisher residue, his office was probably on fire again in spirit, but for once… He didn’t feel like a total failure.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Maybe… we can do this.”

Mei crossed her arms. “Don’t get too comfortable. You have paperwork for that license to sign.”

“...Of course I do.”

He rubbed his face, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his mouth.

ASTA, disorganized, underfunded, and slightly flammable, was officially a hero agency.

In his office, Lin Ling slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him. The inspection had ended, and somehow, he already felt like he’d aged ten years. It wasn’t even 11 A.M. yet.

Paperwork sat stacked on his desk in silent judgment. He spun slowly in his chair, pretending it didn’t exist. One spin. Two spins. Three. The fourth one ended when he got dizzy and bonked his knee on the desk.

“CEO life,” he muttered bitterly. “Truly glamorous.”

He leaned back again, catching his reflection faintly in the window behind him. Disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes, half a smudge of extinguisher foam still clinging to his sleeve. He looked like someone who’d just survived a war. But what caught his attention wasn’t his face.

It was the tie.

That cursed, crooked, insufferable tie.

Still tilted.

Mocking him.

For a long moment, he just stared at it in silence. Maybe, on another day, he would’ve laughed it off. Maybe if the Hero Commission hadn’t nearly given him a heart attack that morning, he’d have just fixed it and moved on.

But today?

No.

“Not. Today.”

Something inside him snapped. The next thing anyone outside the office heard was a guttural scream that echoed through the entire building.

A minute later, the tie lay crumpled in the corner like the casualty of a long, bitter war.

Lin Ling slumped back into his chair again, chest heaving. “I hate that thing,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I hate that thing.”

He considered setting it on fire, but then remembered they’d already nearly burned down the office once. Probably best not to tempt fate twice in the same week.

There was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Lin Ling said wearily.

Jack poked his head in, holding a half-melted snack bag. “Hey, boss, just wanted to say… the vending machine’s out of order again.”

Lin Ling blinked. “Jack. It’s ash. And I didn’t even know it was out of order until you… fixed it.”

“Right,” Jack said, nodding sagely. “That’s probably why it’s not working.”

From behind him, Mei’s voice: “We’re ordering a new one. One that doesn’t explode.”

Targe stepped into view. “Permission to use my shield as a replacement snack shelf, sir?”

“No,” Lin Ling said flatly.

Jetburst leaned around the corner. “What if we label it as a ‘hero endurance challenge’?”

Lin Ling rubbed his temples. “Go home.”

“Right away, boss!” Jetburst said cheerfully and vanished down the hall at Mach 2 (not really, just really fast), knocking over three chairs on his way out.

“I didn’t mean it liter–” Lin Ling trailed off.

As the others dispersed, Mei lingered a moment longer. “You did good today,” she said simply.

He looked up, half-skeptical. “Good?”

Her lips quirked slightly. “You didn’t faint, and we didn’t get shut down. That’s basically a miracle.”

Then she turned and left before he could reply.

Lin Ling blinked at the empty doorway… and then laughed faintly to himself.

As he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk, something caught his eye, a faint shimmer of blue light.

He frowned and raised his wrist. There, glowing softly against his skin, was a number.

5.

For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.

“Wait… what?”

His Trust Value.

He had a Trust Value.

It wasn’t high. It wasn’t impressive. But it was there.

5 people trusted him.

Even after the chaos, the fire, the crooked tie, the screaming; somehow, someone trusted him enough for that number to appear.

Lin Ling laughed under his breath, quiet and a little disbelieving. He looked at the discarded tie in the corner.

“Guess I don’t need you after all.”

For the first time that day, he smiled, small, genuine, tired, but real.

Maybe ASTA wasn’t hopeless.

Maybe neither was he.

Wait...

“Five people… Mei, Jack, Targe, Jetburst… and one more?”

His smile faltered for a moment, curiosity prickling through the exhaustion.

“Wait... who’s the fifth?”

Chapter Text

(The Next Day)

The next morning came far too soon.

It had been a full day since the inspection (also known as The Great Vending Machine Incident) and Lin Ling already felt like he’d aged a decade. The bus rattled beneath him as he rode toward ASTA headquarters, shoulder-to-shoulder with half-asleep commuters. His phone screen glowed faintly in his hand as he scrolled through FOMO.

Nothing.

No tags. No mentions. No trending clips of ASTA’s grand success.

Not that he expected any, but still. After everything they’d been through, part of him almost wanted to see something, just to prove ASTA existed.

He sighed, thumb hovering over the refresh icon before giving up and locking his phone. The reflection in the darkened screen showed the tired face of a man who was already questioning every life decision that led him here.

A (almost) week as CEO, and he already looked like a man twice his age. Maybe three times. He turned to the window, watching as the city rushed past: neon signs, hero billboards, holo-ads flashing with smiling faces of people far more successful than he was.

One in particular caught his eye: a towering ad for DOS, flashing slogans like “A Symbol You Can Trust.”

Lin Ling snorted softly. “A symbol I can’t afford,” he muttered.

Still, the thought lingered. Promotion.

They’d need some kind of campaign for his heroes soon. “Guess that’s what I’m doing today,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

The bus screeched to a stop, the brakes wailing.

He glanced at the display. “Only one more stop.”

That’s when someone stepped on, a man in a plain suit, black hair combed neatly, briefcase in hand. Just another salaryman. Lin Ling barely looked up as the stranger scanned the rows, then stopped beside him.

“Mind if I sit here?” the man asked, polite enough, voice low and smooth.

“Go ahead,” Lin Ling said, gesturing vaguely. “Plenty of room.”

The man nodded his thanks and sat, placing the briefcase on his lap. Something metallic clicked as he fidgeted with a coin between his fingers, spinning it absently. The rhythmic chink of metal filled the small space between them.

“You look stressed,” the man said after a moment, still idly rolling the coin.

Lin Ling gave a humorless laugh. “You have no idea. Feels like my days don’t end anymore.”

The man hummed thoughtfully. “Being a CEO must be rough.”

Lin Ling let out a low groan. “Damn right it is–wait.”

He blinked, realizing what he’d just heard.

He turned slowly, heart giving a faint skip. “How’d you–”

A soft snap echoed beside him.

And when Lin Ling turned fully, the seat was empty.

The coin was gone. The man was gone.

No coat, no footsteps, no trace of anyone ever sitting there.

Lin Ling blinked, scanning the bus. No one else seemed to have noticed.

The driver stared blankly ahead. The passengers were half-asleep or glued to their phones. No reactions. Not even a glance.

“…Did I–?” He rubbed his eyes. “No. Nope. I’m not doing this. Not again.”

Had there even been a man? He tried to remember the man’s face but came up blank. Only the faint sound of the coin flipping lingered in his mind: steady and deliberate.

He slumped back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Man… I really need to get more sleep.”

The bus jolted forward, and Lin Ling looked back out the window, just in time to catch a flicker of light from a nearby building.

A faint, white reflected in the glass and for a second, Lin Ling thought he saw a man in whtie suit, but he was gone before he could make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The office was quiet. Blessedly, miraculously quiet.

Lin Ling sat behind his desk with a cup of coffee in hand and let out a long, tired sigh of relief.

No surprise emails. No government inspectors. No vending machines on fire. Just… peace.

For once.

He glanced at the clock: 8:14 a.m. He’d gotten in early to mentally prepare for whatever chaos the day might bring. The heroes and Jack weren’t due until around nine. He wasn’t strict about the time, but about nine felt like a decent buffer against disaster.

Mei, of course, was excluded from that rule. She was terrifyingly punctual. Lin Ling was half-convinced she teleported into the building the moment his stress levels peaked.

That should be everyone accounted for… right?

He frowned.

Wait. The Medical Management Department.

Or, more accurately, the one person who was supposed to make up that department.

“Wait a second,” he muttered, squinting at his notes. “I haven’t even met her.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Do we… actually have a medical manager? Did she quit before I got here? Or is she on vacation?”

He vaguely remembered Mei mentioning her on his first day. And then… nothing.

No introductions. No sign-ins. No messages.

He sipped his coffee and sighed. “I’ll deal with it when I get to it.”

For now, he had a bigger problem.

He stared at the blank sheet of paper on his desk, the one boldly titled Hero Promotion Strategies. He tapped his pen against it, frowning.

“Alright… think, Lin Ling. You’re supposed to be advertising these people. How hard can that be?”

He wrote the first name.

Jetburst.

Fast. Extremely fast. And loud.

Lin Ling squinted at the page. “Okay, he runs fast. Cool. So what do people like about fast things? Cars? Delivery? Maybe I can market him as… the world’s fastest response time?”

He paused. “...No, that sounds like a pizza ad… and also probably not true.”

He crossed it out.

Next up, Targe.

Her power was easier, she could generate reflective shields. Lin Ling twirled the pen between his fingers, thinking. 

“Okay, that’s good. Protective. Defensive. Reliable.”

He scribbled something down. “A Hero You Can Rely On. …Yeah, that’s not bad.” Then he paused again. “Or maybe too much like a car insurance slogan.”

He groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face.

He slumped forward, forehead pressing lightly to the desk. “Marketing is hard.”

The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the office. Somewhere in the building, a pipe creaked.

At least there weren’t any alarms or explosions.

Yet.

The sound of the elevator door opening echoed faintly down the hall, followed by a series of muffled voices, Jetburst’s unmistakable “Good morning, my comrades!” and Targe’s quiet but firm “Stop calling us that.”

Lin Ling sighed, setting his coffee aside. “And the circus begins.”

He straightened the papers on his desk, not because he needed to, but because it gave him something to do while pretending he was composed. Moments later, Jetburst burst into his office (literally), moving so fast that the papers fluttered like startled birds.

“Boss!” he said, planting his hands on the desk. “I am ready for my next heroic trial!”

Lin Ling blinked at him. “Jetburst, please tell me you didn’t sprint all the way here again.”

“I ran at a reasonable pace!”

Targe entered right after, arms crossed, her tone dry. “He scared three pedestrians and knocked over a mailbox.”

“It was in my way!”

Lin Ling pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll add public relations training to the list…”

Before he could say more, Jack strolled in with his usual easy grin, coffee in hand. “Morning, boss. You look alive. Mostly.”

“Barely,” Lin Ling muttered. “But thanks for noticing.”

Jack dropped into one of the chairs, spinning it backward. “So, what’s on today’s agenda? Please don’t say paperwork.”

“I was thinking… promotion,” Lin Ling said. “If ASTA’s going to survive, people need to actually know we exist.’”

Jack chuckled. “Okay, marketing. I like this. Let’s get you guys a brand. Something flashy, something that screams heroic authenticity!”

Lin Ling frowned. “Or something that doesn’t scream at all.”

But Jack was already scribbling ideas onto his tablet. “We’ll film a short promo showcase the heroes, their skills, their personalities. People love that stuff. We’ll get Mei to oversee logistics, and you” he gestured to Lin Ling “just try not to look like you’re dying inside on camera.”

Lin Ling stared flatly. “You’re asking me to be in it again?”

“Of course! You’re the relatable CEO angle. Every hero agency needs a face people trust.”

“I’d rather be the invisible CEO,” Lin Ling muttered under his breath.

Jetburst pumped his fist. “Then it’s settled! We film our glorious debut!”

Targe sighed. “This will end badly.”

Jack smirked. “Probably. But if it doesn’t, it’ll go viral.”

Lin Ling leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Somehow, this was already spiraling. Again.

“Fine,” he said finally. “Let’s just… try not to set anything on fire this time.”

Jetburst raised a finger. “No promises!”

Two hours later, Lin Ling was seriously regretting agreeing to anything before finishing his coffee.

The conference room had been transformed; or rather, Jack claimed it had been. The reality looked like someone had raided a film club and given up halfway through. A green backdrop was duct taped to the wall, a single ring light sat precariously on a stack of supply boxes, and the cheap camera that they used to fo the last commercial balanced on a chair.

“This looks… professional,” Lin Ling said weakly.

Jack beamed. “See? You get it! We’re going for the authentic grassroots start up vibe. People eat this stuff up.”

“It looks like a hostage video. Again.,” Mei muttered from behind the camera, holding a clipboard.

Jetburst struck a dramatic pose in front of the backdrop. “Fear not! My speed shall dazzle the hearts of citizens!”

“Do not run indoors again,” Mei warned.

“But the blur effect!”

“Jetburst.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

Targe stood off to the side, with the calm resignation of someone who had accepted that her agency’s public image was doomed. “I still don’t understand why we can’t just file an official press release.”

Jack grinned. “Because press releases are boring. People want personality. Heroic charm. A little chaos.”

Lin Ling raised a hand. “You already have enough chaos. Please, no more chaos.”

Jack ignored him completely. “Okay, Jetburst, you’re up first! Do something impressive, something that says I’m fast, but also trustworthy!”

Jetburst nodded solemnly, then vanished in a blur, only to reappear a second later with the entire green backdrop ripped off the wall and tangled around him like a net.

“Jack!” Mei snapped. “You said you secured it!”

Jack frowned. “I duct taped it! That counts!”

In the background, Targe sighed. “Do I need to summon a shield for this too?”

“Only if it starts smoking,” Lin Ling muttered, rubbing his temple.

“Too late,” Mei said flatly, pointing to the overheated ring light flickering ominously.

Jack immediately grabbed a water bottle. “I got it—”

“DO NOT THROW WATER ON THAT—!” Lin Ling started, but it was too late. The light hissed and popped, plunging the room into dim, flickering half darkness.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then Jack coughed into his sleeve. “So… maybe we lean into the gritty realism angle?”

Lin Ling stared at him. “I’m actually going to fire you.”

By the time the chaos died down, Lin Ling sat at his desk again, utterly spent. Jetburst had sprinted home to get his costume (God help him), Targe was cleaning the conference room, and Jack was editing together what he swore would be cinematic gold.

He didn’t believe that for a second.

At least Mei had managed to upload their registration paperwork properly, so one small victory.

He leaned back in his chair and checked his inbox, expecting the usual flood of junk mail. But one subject line stood out immediately:

[Hero Affairs Commission – Assignment Notice]

Lin Ling sat up straighter. “Assignment notice?”

He clicked it open. The email was short and to the point:

To: CEO Lin Ling, ASTA Hero Agency (Provisional License)

From: Hero Affairs Commission Operations Division

As part of your three month provisional status, ASTA is to undergo a field evaluation. Your agency has been selected for a trial mission to assess operational capability, coordination, and community response.

Mission details and location are as follows:

You will go to District 60 and capture an escaped mutant raccoon.

You have till the end of the day to bring it back to Glimmer Labs.

They will report back to the Commission of your success.

Compliance is mandatory.

—Inspector Zhen

Hero Affairs Commission

Lin Ling read it twice. Then a third time. Then once more, just in case it stopped being terrifying.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mei poked her head in through the door, holding a coffee. “Something wrong?”

He turned the screen toward her.

She scanned it, then whistled. “Well. Looks like they’re not wasting any time.”

Jack walked in right after, chewing on a granola bar. “What’s up?”

Lin Ling let his face fall into his hands. “We have a mission.”

From somewhere down the hallway Jetburst’s voice came, high and gleeful. “A mission!?”

“Oh great,” Lin Ling groaned. “He’s back.”

Jetburst burst into the office, vibrating with excitement. “Finally! Our first official hero quest!”

“This is not a game,” Lin Ling said, scrolling the email again. “They’re evaluating us. If we mess this up they revoke the license.”

Jetburst’s grin faded into a small, honest frown. “Oh.”

Jack grinned, trying to be reassuring. “No pressure, huh?”

Lin Ling closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Do we even have a company van or something?”

Jack looked to the floor. Mei was quiet. The silence was a bad sign.

“We do have a van,” Mei said slowly, “it’s just…”

Jack cut in, sheepish. “I might have taken it… for takeout. And dented it. A couple months ago… and it might be a headlight.” He rubbed the back of his neck like that explained everything.

Lin Ling pressed his forehead to the desk for a full, melodramatic count of three. He lifted his head and banged it on the tabletop once, a small, defeated thud. “How did you all manage before I showed up?”

Jetburst brightened. “Don’t worry! I can just carry you all!”

“NO,” Lin Ling snapped before he could think. 

“Understood,” Jetburst chirped.

“Do we at least have radios? Earpieces?” Lin Ling asked, grasping for logistics.

“Yes,” Mei said. “There are a few in storage. I’ll grab them.”

“Good.” Lin Ling straightened in his chair and tried to look the part of someone who knew what they were doing. “We meet in the lobby in twenty minutes. Sharp.”

He added, more for himself than them, “And Jetburst, if you run inside the building again, I will fire you.”

Jetburst blinked, earnest. “Understood, boss. No indoor sprints.”

Internally, Lin Ling realized: “Oh lord. I am officially turning into an old man.”

He forced a tight smile. “Right. Let’s move. We’ll make a plan in the van.”

Twenty-five minutes later, and one massive metaphorical headache later, five people were crammed into ASTA’s company van.

Calling it a van was generous, it was more like a moving museum piece held together by duct tape, hope, and Jack’s temporary repairs. The left mirror was cracked, the right headlight flickered, and the air conditioning alternated between the arctic and the sahara.

Lin Ling gripped the steering wheel like it might escape if he loosened his hold. “Who,” he asked through gritted teeth, “thought it was a good idea to keep the emergency manuals in the glove compartment instead of… I don’t know, fixing the van?”

Jack, lounging in the passenger seat, raised a finger. “Technically, we did fix it. Temporarily.”

“Temporarily?” Lin Ling echoed.

“As in, it moves,” Jack said. “Usually.”

Behind them, Jetburst’s voice piped up cheerfully. “It’s not so bad! It smells like victory!”

“It smells like fried wiring,” Targe muttered from beside him, clutching a seatbelt that looked two frays away from disintegrating.

Mei, squeezed between them with her tablet on her lap, didn’t look up. “Focus, all of you. We’re approaching District 60 in approximately nine minutes. Assuming the van survives that long.”

Lin Ling pressed his lips into a thin line. “Comforting.”

He took a left turn, the van protesting with a loud clunk. Everyone flinched.

Jack grinned weakly. “That’s the sound of character, boss.”

“That’s the sound of death,” Lin Ling replied flatly.

District 60 was kinda what Lin Ling expected: on the edge of X city, sparse, and overall empty but still full of buildings.

Lin Ling parked in front of what might’ve once been a corner convenience store, but was obviously waiting to be sold. The streetlights buzzed faintly in the morning haze.

“Okay,” Lin Ling said, exhaling as he turned off the ignition. “According to the Commission, there’s a mutant raccoon running loose in this district. Our job is to catch it alive and deliver it to Glimmer Labs by sunset.”

Jetburst raised a hand. “Question! How mutant are we talking? Like extra fluffy, or laser eyes?”

“No laser eyes,” Mei said, scrolling through the file on her tablet. “At least, not confirmed. All we really know is that it's aggressive, extremely fast, resistant to tranquilizers, and has a recorded habit of… stealing car parts.”

Jack leaned back, eyebrows up. “So basically, me after two coffees.”

“Jack,” Mei said flatly, “please don’t compare yourself to wildlife.”

Targe adjusted her gloves. “Do we have a plan, sir?”

Lin Ling blinked. “A plan. Right. Yes. We… will plan.”

Jetburst leaned forward eagerly. “Can I chase it?”

“No.”

“Can I bait it?”

“No.”

“Can I look for it really fast–”

“Jetburst,” Lin Ling said wearily, “please wait until I finish the sentence without destroying property.”

Jetburst sank back in his seat. “Copy that.”

Lin Ling opened the door and stepped out, the morning air heavy with humidity and the faint scent of ozone. For a moment, he just looked at his team, an over caffeinated marketer, a stoic strategist, a reckless speedster, and a quiet but determined shield, and wondered if this was what other agencies looked like at the start of missions.

Probably not.

“All right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s split up. Jack and I will monitor from here. Mei, you coordinate comms. Jetburst, Targe, you’re the front line. If you spot it, don’t engage until we confirm its position.”

Jack tilted his head. “You’re really taking charge today. I’m almost impressed.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Lin Ling shot back. “I’m the CEO. I have to at least pretend I know what I’m doing.”

Mei’s earpiece crackled to life. “Jetburst, Targe, keep your channels open. Tracking sensors are online.”

Targe nodded. Jetburst saluted. “Operation Trash Panda begins!”

“Please,” Lin Ling muttered, “never say that again.”

An hour later, the operation had devolved into exactly what Lin Ling feared: chaos.

Static filled the van speakers. Mei was frantically cycling through video feeds on her tablet. Somewhere in the distance, Jetburst’s voice came over the comms, breathless and triumphant.

“I see it! It’s fast! It’s… oh no, it’s stealing my comms! It’s stealing the…AH!”

Lin Ling slammed his forehead into the steering wheel. “He’s being mugged by a raccoon.”

Jack sipped his coffee calmly. “Honestly, could’ve been worse.”

“Worse?” Lin Ling shouted. “We’re getting outsmarted by an animal. WE’RE finished!”

Targe’s voice came through next. “I have visual. It’s heading south, toward the scrapyard.”

Mei adjusted her screen. “Signal’s weak. Too much interference.”

“Because of course it is,” Lin Ling muttered. “Everyone, we’ll meet at the scrapyard. Don’t go in till we get there.”

Jack grinned. “Ooh, leadership voice. Didn’t know you had that setting.”

“I’m saving my nervous breakdown for later,” Lin Ling shot back, throwing the van into drive.

Now at the scrapyard, all five members stood outside the main gate, surrounded by piles of rusted metal, scrap parts, and an army of seagulls that had no business being this far inland.

All four pairs of eyes were fixed squarely on Jetburst. His outfit looked like it had been through a blender. His comm earpiece was gone, one sleeve was half-torn, and there was a suspicious bite mark on his forearm.

“It was a tactical retreat,” Jetburst said defensively, trying to straighten his collar.

Lin Ling pinched the bridge of his nose. “You got robbed by a raccoon.”

“It was fast!” Jetburst insisted. “Like, hero-level fast!”

Jack grinned. “Congrats, you met your spirit animal.”

“Jack,” Mei said sharply. “Focus.” She was already scanning the area with her tablet. “Thermal readings show movement deeper in the yard. Probably it.”

Lin Ling sighed, stepping closer to the fence. The scrapyard loomed like a metallic jungle, mountains of crushed cars, heaps of rusted pipes, the occasional flicker of light from an old drone.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Lin Ling said, crossing his arms in an attempt to look confident. “We move in slow, stay quiet, and corner it from multiple angles. Mei, keep us updated on its movements. Jack, stay close to me. Jetburst… no running until I say so. Targe, shields ready.”

Targe nodded. “Understood.”

“Got it!” Jetburst saluted. “This time, I’ll be subtle!”

The moment they entered, something clattered deep within the maze of metal. Everyone froze.

Mei checked her tablet. “Movement, thirty meters ahead. Small, low to the ground, definitely it.”

Jack whispered, “So… how dangerous are we talking here? Like, bite your finger dangerous, or explode your van dangerous?”

“Considering it took down Jetburst,” Lin Ling muttered, “I’m not ruling out the second option.”

They crept forward, weaving between the jagged heaps. The air smelled of rust and ozone, and every small noise echoed like thunder.

Then came the growl.

It was small. Guttural. Somewhere between a hiss and a car engine trying to start.

Lin Ling stopped dead. “…That’s not a normal raccoon noise.”

A flash of gray shot past their legs, fast enough to blur. Jetburst yelped. Mei turned just in time to see a metal hubcap vanish from the ground, dragged into the shadows.

Targe readied a shield. “It’s moving in circles around us. Pattern looks… tactical.”

“Tactical?” Lin Ling hissed. “It’s an animal!”

Jack squinted. “Pretty smart rodent, then.”

“It's not a rodent!”

Before anyone could respond, a sudden metallic clang echoed above them. They all looked up, just in time to see the mutant raccoon perched atop a pile of crushed cars.

It was massive. Easily the size of a medium dog, fur streaked with a metallic purple sheen, and eyes glowing a faint amethyst. Its tail flicked like a whip, and in its tiny claws, it clutched Jetburst’s comm unit like a trophy.

Lin Ling blinked. “Okay. So. That’s horrifying.”

Jetburst pointed dramatically. “You fiend! Give that back!”

The raccoon screeched in reply, a shrill, mechanical sound, and bolted.

“AFTER IT!” Jetburst yelled, dashing forward before Lin Ling could even shout,

“JETBURST, NO–”

Too late.

The speedster zipped through the maze of metal, his voice echoing in the distance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this!”

Then, a loud crash.

Then another.

Then a small explosion.

Targe sighed. “Permission to assume he doesn’t got this”

“Granted,” Lin Ling muttered, already running after him.

They found Jetburst dangling upside down in a snare of old wiring, half covered in soot, and somehow holding a traffic cone.

“I almost had it,” he wheezed.

Lin Ling stared up at him. “I’m going to develop white hair before thirty.”

Mei tapped her tablet. “It’s still nearby. Movement detected behind that car stack.”

Targe stepped forward, summoning a translucent shield in front of them. “I’ll draw it out.”

Jack frowned. “Wait, draw it out how–”

Too late.

Targe slammed her shield into the pile, the echo reverberating like thunder. A split second later, the mutant raccoon launched itself out, straight at Lin Ling.

“AH–!”

He stumbled back, the creature slashing up his shirt before it skidded past him, chittering furiously. Jack yelped and dropped his coffee, which immediately splashed onto the raccoon’s fur. The raccoon froze, sniffed, and bizarrely licked it before running off.

“Wait,” Mei said, eyes narrowing. “It likes caffeine.”

Jack blinked. “So it’s me.”

“Perfect,” Lin Ling muttered. “We’ll bait it, with coffee.”

Jack rummaged through his bag. “I always keep emergency beans!”

“Of course you do.”

Then something caught Lin Ling’s eye: a purplish black bubble on his sleeve. It looked almost like the raccoon, at least in color. It must have come from it. He turned to look at Jetburst. There wasn’t any tar like substance on him. 

“Weird.”

He reached up and grabbed the bubble, throwing it onto the ground. In the moment he held it, it felt almost like it tried to stick to him but it couldn’t. It was definitely odd, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He had work to do.

They set up a makeshift trap: a spilled trail of coffee leading into an overturned crate. Mei had calibrated a motion sensor and Jetburst, finally free, waited by the lever.

Minutes ticked by.

Then: movement.

A small gray blur darted forward, snuffling along the trail, until it disappeared into the crate.

“NOW!” Lin Ling shouted.

Jetburst yanked the lever. The crate slammed shut. Everyone held their breath.

A muffled rustle. A single thunk.

Then silence.

“…Did we just win?” Jack whispered.

The crate began to shake violently. Sparks flew out the sides.

“Define win,” Lin Ling said through clenched teeth.

The crate burst open. The raccoon, now vibrating with caffeine fueled fury, shot straight up into the air, landed on the van’s hood, and started chewing on the windshield wipers.

Lin Ling’s soul visibly left his body. “I’m done. I’m so done.”

Mei sighed, already beginning typing an incident report. “I’ll contact Glimmer Labs for retrieval assistance.”

“Translation,” Jack said, watching the raccoon dismantle the van’s antenna. “We failed the mission.”

“Not necessarily,” Lin Ling muttered, staring as Targe carefully enclosed the creature in a reflective dome shield. “If it’s contained, it’s a success.”

The raccoon slammed against the inside of the barrier with a metallic clang, then promptly fell over, dizzy but alive.

Everyone froze.

Mei exhaled. “Containment successful.”

Jetburst pumped a fist. “We did it!”

Jack grinned. “And I got all of it on camera.”

Lin Ling turned slowly. “Jack… if that video goes online…”

Jack held up his hands innocently. “Hey, think of it as free publicity.”

Lin Ling buried his face in his hands. “X help me…”

He didn’t even get the chance to breathe before a shout split the air.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE!?”

The group turned in unison. From the side of the scrapyard, a broad, grease stained man stomped into view, waving a wrench the size of Lin Ling’s arm. His overalls were half zipped and his expression was somewhere between furious and confused.

“WHO’S TEARING UP MY YARD!? YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST BREAK IN AND STEAL MY METAL!?”

Jetburst pointed at the man. “Uh oh.”

“Nope,” Lin Ling said immediately, spinning on his heel. “I’m out.”

“Sir, should we…?” Targe started.

“Time to go!” Lin Ling barked, already jogging toward the van.

Jetburst zipped ahead, Mei scooped up her tablet, and Jack, still holding his camera, bolted after them. The scrapyard owner shouted something about calling the police as Lin Ling dove into the driver’s seat.

“Everyone in?”

“Go, go, go!” Mei yelled, slamming the side door shut.

The van roared to life, sputtering smoke as Lin Ling hit the gas. They tore out of the scrapyard, raccoon safely contained in Targe’s shield dome in the back, everyone yelling over the noise.

Jetburst leaned out the window. “Sorry about your yard!”

“DON’T APOLOGIZE!” Lin Ling snapped, eyes wide, putting the child window lock on.

Jack laughed breathlessly. “Well… that could’ve gone worse.”

Lin Ling shot him a look. “Name one way.”

Jack thought for a moment. “The raccoon could’ve been radioactive.”

“…Don’t give it ideas,” Lin Ling muttered, gripping the wheel tighter as the scrapyard faded in the rearview mirror.

Behind them, the furious owner was still shouting something indistinct. The raccoon, meanwhile, sat in its shield dome, licking its paw with a smug satisfaction.

Lin Ling stared at it through the mirror and sighed deeply.

“I should have taken that advertisement gig…”

The drive back was mercifully silent, except for the occasional thud from the shield dome in the back.

Lin Ling parked the van right in front of Glimmer Labs, exhaling like a man who’d just completed a marathon. The whole team piled out, some limping, some covered in dirt, and all of them looking like they’d lost a fight with a lawnmower (excluding Mei).

Only trusting a select few not to accidentally unleash chaos, Lin Ling handed responsibility for their cargo to Targe. The shield dome shimmered faintly in her hands, the raccoon inside glaring like it was plotting their collective downfall.

The five of them marched into the lab’s pristine lobby,  the sharp contrast between their disheveled appearance and the spotless white floors was almost comedic. Lin Ling stepped up to the receptionist’s desk, trying to sound like a functioning adult.

“Uh… hi. We’ve got the raccoon that escaped,” he said, forcing a polite smile.

The receptionist blinked at them. Slowly. His gaze drifted from Lin Ling’s torn shirt, to Jetburst’s missing sleeve, to the glowing shield dome with the very angry, very mutant raccoon inside.

“The raccoon…?” the man repeated, deadpan.

He turned to his monitor, typing something in. Lin Ling waited, glancing at Mei, who just shrugged.

Then the receptionist’s eyes widened. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. “Oh! Oh, that raccoon. Right, right… uh, please wait right here. I’ll call containment immediately.”

He shot up from his chair like it was on fire and hurried out of sight through a side door.

The group stood in silence.

“…Was it just me, or did he look like he was about to faint?” Lin Ling asked.

“Maybe he’s going to get us a reward,” Jetburst offered brightly.

Four pairs of eyes turned to him. Even Jack stopped mid sip of his coffee (where is he getting these from?).

Jetburst looked around defensively. “What? You don’t know he isn’t.”

Mei sighed. “If it’s a reward, it’s probably a bill for property damage.”

A few minutes of awkward waiting passed. The lobby was eerily quiet, no music, no chatter, not even footsteps from deeper inside the lab. Just the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clunk from the raccoon ramming the inside of the dome.

Then, with a hiss of hydraulics, a set of double doors slid open.

Four people in full containment suits strode out, rolling a reinforced metal crate that looked like it could hold a small tank. Their movements were slow and deliberate, like professionals, or at least people paid enough to pretend to be.

“Please place the specimen inside the containment unit,” the lead technician said, voice muffled through the helmet.

“Alright,” Targe said evenly. She stepped forward, lowering the shield dome carefully into the open crate. The tech immediately slammed the door shut and locked it with a heavy clang.

“Now, please disengage your power,” the tech continued.

Targe nodded and released her shield. The energy field flickered out, revealing the furious raccoon in full view.

The creature froze.

Then, without warning, it launched itself straight at the crate door.

A deafening BANG reverberated through the lobby.

Everyone instinctively took a step back. Even the containment crew stiffened.

Lin Ling blinked. “…Is that normal?”

The lead technician didn’t answer immediately. He checked the monitor on the crate’s side, then finally said in a perfectly neutral tone, “…Mostly.”

The raccoon slammed into the door again. BANG.

Jetburst leaned closer. “I think it likes us.”

“Don’t make it personal,” Lin Ling muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re leaving before this turns into a sequel.”

As the group started heading for the exit, a voice called out behind them.

“Wait!”

Lin Ling turned. A man in a lab coat was striding toward them: tall, silver-haired, with deep lines etched into his face that spoke of too many sleepless nights. His ID badge lanyard around his neck caught the light.

Luo Tong – Senior Researcher, Glimmer Labs.

“May I have a word?” the man asked, his tone polite but firm.

Lin Ling hesitated, halfway between run and be professional. 

“…Sure?” he said, voice edging on uncertainty.

As Luo approached, the rest of the team exchanged wary looks. Jack leaned slightly toward Mei and muttered, “Please tell me we’re not in trouble already.”

“I’m Luo Tong,” the scientist said, stopping in front of Lin Ling. “I’m one of the lead researchers here at Glimmer Labs. I just have a few questions about your containment of Specimen Three.”

“Specimen… Three?” Lin Ling repeated, instantly feeling like he’d stepped into something he shouldn’t have.

Jetburst immediately perked up. “Oh! That was the raccoon! We…”

“Nope.” Lin Ling cut him off, holding up a hand without even looking back. “Nope, I’ve got this one. You guys go wait in the van.”

Jetburst opened his mouth to argue but froze at Lin Ling’s look, the kind that said I’m hanging on by a thread do not test me.

“…Right. To the van,” Jetburst said, retreating quickly.

As the others shuffled off, Lin Ling turned back to Luo, forcing a professional smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Alright, Dr. Luo. You said you had questions?”

“Yes…” Luo adjusted his glasses and pulled a small notepad from his coat pocket. “Can you describe the specimen’s behavior during capture?”

Lin Ling hesitated for a moment, trying to recall the chaos. “Uh… well, it was definitely aggressive, but not, like, attack humans aggressive that much. More like… obsessed. With car parts. And electronics.”

He gestured vaguely, warming up to the story. “It attacked Jetburst at one point, but only to grab his comms. Didn’t even stick around to fight him… after biting him… and tearing up his shirt.”

Luo jotted that down, expression unreadable. “I see. Any further damage caused by the subject?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lin Ling said, sighing as the memory hit him. “It completely dismantled the van’s windshield wipers. And the antenna. Which I now get to fix.”

The scientist made another note. “Did it display any intent to harm you directly?”

“No, not really,” Lin Ling replied, shaking his head. “I mean, it wasn’t happy when we trapped it.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, and don’t give it coffee. It got… really hyper.”

Luo stopped writing and gave him a long, slow look. “…Coffee.”

“Yeah,” Lin Ling said earnestly. “Whole thing went berserk for a minute. Learned that the hard way.”

“…Right,” Luo said, voice flat as he resumed scribbling. “Any other unusual behaviors? Physical effects? Residue?”

Lin Ling thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah. It left this weird… tar bubble thing on my sleeve. Same color as its fur. But I brushed it off.”

Luo’s head snapped up. “You brushed it off?”

Lin Ling blinked. “Uh… yeah? Was I not supposed to?”

The scientist’s pen froze midair. “No. You were not supposed to.” He quickly scribbled something else down, face tightening.

“...Oh,” Lin Ling said, trying not to sound nervous. “Good to know.”

After a moment, Luo slipped the pen back into his pocket. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Lin. Your assistance in retrieving Specimen Three is… greatly appreciated.”

Lin Ling smiled faintly, still not sure whether to feel proud or terrified. “Oh, it was no problem. Really.”

“Not like I had a choice,” he thought.

He hesitated, curiosity finally getting the better of him. “Can I ask something, though? That raccoon… what exactly was it mutated with?”

Luo paused mid-step. For the briefest moment, his expression flickered, something like hesitation, maybe even concern, before settling back into neutrality.

“…That information is classified,” he said quietly. 

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Lin Ling standing there, suddenly much less comfortable than before.

“This day just keeps getting better and better.”

The office was mercifully quiet again or at least, as quiet as ASTA ever got. Lin Ling sat hunched over his desk, a cooling cup of coffee beside him, replaying the footage of their “mission success” for what had to be the twentieth time.

The screen flickered with the familiar chaos: Jetburst falling into a pile of scrap metal, Targe yelling something, Jack filming everything like it was an indie documentary. It should’ve been funny. It was funny, in a tragic, career ending kind of way.

A knock at his door pulled him back. Jack strolled in, tablet under one arm, looking annoyingly chipper. “Boss! I just uploaded the footage draft. Get this, it already has six hundred views.”

“Six hundred?” Lin Ling asked, rubbing his temple. “How?”

“Don’t underestimate the internet’s love for disaster,” Jack said, grinning. “You’re trending under #CoffeeRaccoonIncident.”

Lin Ling froze. “We’re trending for that?”

“Oh yeah. People are calling Jetburst the Fast and the Feral.” Jack chuckled. “Free publicity, my man.”

Lin Ling buried his face in his hands. “That’s not publicity. That’s humiliation.”

“Same thing, depending on your angle,” Jack said cheerfully. He slid the tablet onto the desk. “Anyway, I clipped together a short promo reel, ASTA: Heroes of the Unlikely. Very meta. Might even convince the Commission we’re self-aware.”

Lin Ling eyed the tablet warily but clicked play.

The video opened with triumphant music (badly mixed) over footage of Jetburst tripping over a crate, Targe blocking a flying hubcap, Mei facepalming, and Lin Ling himself shouting, “DO NOT THROW WATER ON THAT!”

He shut it off after five seconds. “No.”

Jack blinked. “No?”

“No,” Lin Ling repeated firmly. “Delete it.”

“Come on…”

“Delete. It.”

Jack groaned but reached for the tablet. “Fine, fine. I’ll save it privately. For archival purposes.”

Lin Ling gave him a warning look. “Jack.”

Jack sighed. “Deleting.”

“Here, we can just create a new one,” Lin Ling said, scooting his chair closer to his monitor. His voice had the same weary determination as someone trying to fix their life with a cup of instant ramen.

Jack leaned over his shoulder, balancing a half-empty coffee in one hand. “Alright, chef. Let’s cook. This kitchen’s about to get crazy!”

“This isn’t a kitchen, Jack,” Lin Ling muttered.

“Creative kitchen, same difference.”

Two hours later, both men looked like they’d aged another year. The office was dim now, lit only by the soft glow of Lin Ling’s monitor and the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Jack leaned back in his chair, squinting at the final export bar creeping toward completion. “Not bad… not bad at all,” he said, stretching his arms over his head.

“It’s… decent,” Lin Ling admitted. “We didn’t explode anything this time. That’s progress.”

Jack grinned. “See? You’re learning optimism.”

“I’m learning survival,” Lin Ling corrected.

The progress bar finally hit 100%, and the new video preview popped up: a clean montage of ASTA’s heroic moments, cleverly edited to look far less disastrous than they actually were.

The tagline at the end read: ASTA: Ordinary People. Extraordinary Problems.

Jack nodded approvingly. “Catchy.”

Lin Ling rubbed his eyes. “Accurate.”

Jack checked his watch and let out a low whistle. “Five already? Well, time to clock out before Mei makes me clean something again.”

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, calling back, “Don’t stay too late, boss. The stress wrinkles are starting to unionize.”

Lin Ling didn’t even look up. “Go home, Jack, I’ll make the finishing touches.”

Jack waved lazily as he left, the sound of his shoes fading down the hall.

The office fell silent again. Lin Ling leaned back, finally allowing himself a small, tired smile. Maybe, just maybe, ASTA was starting to look legitimate.

“Guess I should finish it up before I go home. How long could it take?” Lin Ling said to himself.

Spoiler alert: three hours.

That’s how long it took for Lin Ling to be happy with it. By the time he finally leaned back in his chair, the city outside the office windows had already fallen into night.

He rubbed at his eyes, blinking away the blue glow of the monitor. The montage he and Jack had built earlier was no longer just a highlight reel, it had evolved into something closer to a story. A messy, chaotic, mildly disastrous story, but still.

The footage now flowed like a vlog: the start of the hunt, the ridiculous chase through District 60, Jetburst’s unintended slapstick routine, and finally the triumphant (and only slightly traumatizing) moment when Targe captured the raccoon in her shield dome.

Lin Ling had meticulously trimmed every embarrassing frame, every awkward pause, every un-heroic moment, covering them with upbeat music and polished transitions. The result almost looked intentional. Almost.

He sat back, arms crossed, watching the finished video play on the screen.

“Not bad,” he murmured to himself. “Almost like we knew what we were doing.”

The camera panned over the team at the end, tired, dirty, victorious, before fading to black beneath the tagline:

ASTA: Everyday Heroes. Extraordinary Results.

Lin Ling smiled faintly. “Yeah… that’ll do.”

He hit save and uploaded a copy to FOMO and every other platform. Then, with the kind of exhaustion that only came from equal parts stress and caffeine, he stood and stretched.

The office was completely silent now. Everyone had gone home hours ago. The faint hum of the building’s ventilation and the soft flicker of the streetlights outside were the only sounds left.

Lin Ling packed up his things, shutting off the monitor. The screen dimmed, leaving only his reflection, tired eyes, messy hair, and the faintest ghost of a smile.

“Progress,” he muttered. “Sort of.”