Breaking news: Dr. Garisu, a wanted criminal, known for committing multiple crimes against humanity as well as for plotting terrorism, has been found knocked out, sitting in a trash can. His current condition is unknown, as the only information his doctors at the hospital will reveal to us is that he is going through some type of mental shock. The defeat of Dr. Garisu has been accredited to Thunder Shoes, Guardian Rank 1,001, who was nearest to the site of the incident at the time.

Harvey set down the newspaper. So at least Dr. Garisu was fine now. Maybe he would be placed in a mental hospital, and get better? Hopefully. He was a smart guy. Just extremely mentally unstable. But that was a problem that could be overcome.

It’s been exactly twelve hours since Harvey had beaten the crap out of Dr. Garisu and stuck him in a trash can. After they had sufficiently trashed the entire laboratory, Harvey had returned home, and Jant ran off to his own place. He told Harvey that he would return before he did, but Harvey hoped that he didn’t. It would make his life more boring.

At the current moment, it was 7:00 PM. Harvey had a steaming mug of coffee on his table, and was wearing a fresh plain black t-shirt. He had changed into new shorts, but his socks were still the same as yesterday’s.

Harvey was in a particularly bad mood today. He had submitted the first draft of his new novel to a publisher only yesterday, and they had rejected it almost immediately. The reasoning? Because he didn’t have a degree. And because he didn’t have a degree, his work shouldn’t be published.

Harvey didn’t know why he was so mad. He didn’t have to get his book published. He had already gained enough revenue from his last novel to last him a lifetime. But at the same time, something was wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Something was so wrong, that it was causing him legitimate anger.

It took Harvey a while to realize what it was. He had wanted to get the novel published. And it didn’t get published.

Harvey stared at the wall. So that’s what was wrong. Ever since he got his first novel published, everything Harvey did had the result that he wanted. And that was because his first publication gave him something very important.

Confidence.

So much confidence, that he could do anything. Hear anything. See anything. Destroy anything. He had gotten everything he wanted. But now, he couldn’t get a stupid novel through the publishers.

Was that because of a lack of confidence?

Harvey’s thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on his door. He groaned, swinging around on his chair and dragging himself out of it, making his way downstairs to his front entrance. He already knew who it was.

“Sir!” Jant stood at attention as soon as Harvey opened the door. Harvey’s eyes quickly shot up to a hiking backpack on Jant’s back. It must’ve been at least four feet tall, and was crammed with all sorts of things.

“Uh...what’s the backpack for?” asked Harvey nonchalantly, pointing at the backpack, “we aren’t going anywhere, you know that right?”

“Master, I have decided to move into your apartment with you.”

“What?” Harvey, who had lost focus of the conversation right after Harvey said “Master”, swung around, “what makes you think that you’ll-”

“I’ll pay all the rent, Master.”

Harvey paused. Rent had always been a problem. Because he lived in the abandoned sector of City 87, his apartment rent was particularly low, but even so, living off of money acquired from a single book was difficult.

“Get inside,” muttered Harvey, “and mind where you put that backpack.”

“Yes sir!”

Harvey opened the door completely, admitting Jant into his apartment. On his way in, Jant almost fell over as the top of his backpack collided with the top of Harvey’s door frame.

“Master,” said Jant, as he set his backpack down in the living room, “I was going over the battle between you and the three monsters we encountered yesterday, and I still cannot figure out how you’ve acquired such power.”

“I’m not your teacher,” muttered Harvey, “and I can’t teach you anything, to be quite honest. I barely even fight monsters in the first place.”

“But master, you must have once been a part of some sort of organization that had experience in fighting monsters. There’s no way that you just know all of your skills without training or some sort of secret!”

“I’ve told you,” said Harvey, rolling his eyes now, “there’s really no secret. You have to just...kill them. There’s no other way.”

Jant stared at Harvey for a moment, before suddenly whipping out a pencil and notebook. He began to quickly write in the notebook, his arm flying across the page.

“Woah, what’re you doing?” asked Harvey, leaning in to Jant’s notebook instinctively.

“Recording your words of wisdom, Master!”

“What? No, don’t-” Harvey sighed as Jant finished his notes, “you don’t have to copy down every word I say,” he said firmly, “that’s just unnessecary.”

Jant continued to look at him intently, “But sir, how will I improve if I do not take note of your words? I will record what you say, and I will recite your words in order to become stronger, sir!”

Harvey was about to comment about how he really didn’t say anything of use, but as he thought about it, he also realized that nothing bad could result from it. He shrugged, “Whatever, then.” he muttered, plopping down on the sofa, and staring out the window that was on the other side of the room. It was growing dark by now.

Slowly but surely, a feeling of dread began to creep back into Harvey’s mind. That horrible sense of failure. That feeling you got when you lose after a win streak. The more he thought about it, however, the more it made sense. Maybe he wasn’t that great at writing. Maybe the only reason he got his first book published was because the publishers were nice, and didn’t want to see him starve on the streets. That was the whole reason he was so confident right now. And then after that, he was able to defeat monsters, and see and hear things that he couldn’t hear or see before.

His confidence was unfounded.

“Ugh,” Harvey slumped over on the sofa that he was sitting on, “I hate this…”

“What?” Jant, who was writing something in his notebook, looked up, “what could be something that is so terrifying that even you are bothered by it?”

“Nothing.” mumbled Harvey, already regretting saying anything, “forget about it.”

“Please tell me, master!”

There was a moment of silence, in which Harvey made some quick calculations in his head. Was he going to actually tell Jant what was going on? He didn’t really think it through before he said it.

“I’m a failing writer.”

Jant blinked, “What?” he asked, “what do you mean, ‘I’m a failing writer’? You’re my teacher, sir! You kill monsters in the blink of an eye! You’re unstoppable!”

“No,” Harvey leaned back, “you don’t understand, Jant. I’m not a monster-hunter. I’m not a rogue guardian. I’m a writer. I published a book back when I was in high school, which got pretty famous, and I made a bunch of money off of it. But now, my next novel didn’t get past the publishers. I wanted that money so badly, and I was so certain that I could’ve gotten it!”

Jant stared at Harvey for a moment, silently contemplating what he had just heard. “Sir, does that mean that I should also become a writer?” he suddenly asked, “will becoming a writer help me become strong?”

Harvey threw his hands up in the air, “Don’t you understand?” he asked, “it’s not about strength! It’s about getting money! How am I supposed to move out of this dump if I can’t get more money? Writing is all I have. No company would ever hire me. There’s no other option for me…”

Harvey sighed, “I guess I’ll just stay in this apartment for the rest of my life then.”

“But sir, there is a way to get more money.”

Harvey glanced at Jant, “Really?” he said skeptically, “what’s that? I’ve already looked at flipping burgers, but since I live in the abandoned sector of City 87, nobody wants to hire me ‘cause they think I’m some sort of gang member.”

“You could become a guardian, sir.”

Harvey paused. “A guardian?” he asked hesitantly, “but aren’t those chosen by the government itself? They would never hire me, nobody knows who I am.”

“Master, the government holds weekly recruitment sessions in each city to recruit people who might want to become guardians,” said Jant, “the majority of top-ranking guardians are those asked to become guardians by the government, but 90 percent of the guardians active now are those who went to these recruitment sessions.”

“Hm.” Harvey thought about it for a moment, “being a guardian sounds kind of boring though,” he said, “how does it pay?”

“There are 10,000 guardians active, with guardian rank 10,000 getting kicked out if someone else replaces them. Guardians from rank 10,000 to 6,000 receive a monthly payment of 5,000 credits. Guardians from rank 5,999 to 1,000 receive 10,000 credits per month. Guardians from rank 999 to 500 receive 30,000 credits a month. Guardians from rank 499 to 100 receive 50,000 credits per month. Guardians from rank 99 to 10 receive 100,000 credits per month, guardians from rank 10 to 2 receive 500,000 credits per month, and guardian rank 1 receives 1 million credits per month.”

“Hm. That’s a pretty good pay…” murmured Harvey, “I think I might try out then. When’s the next recruitment session?”

“According to my memory, there’s a recruitment session every Saturday,” said Jant, “so there would be one tomorrow, sir.”

“Well…” Harvey thought for a moment, about what he would gain, and what he may lose. Did he really want to pursue a career in being a guardian? It seemed really boring, actually. Almost as boring as flipping burgers.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Harvey nodded in approval, “Jant, are you a guardian?”

“Me? No, sir. I’m what you would call a rogue guardian. I fight for justice and protect rural areas from evil attacks. But if you join the guardians, then I’ll also join.”

“Yeah…” Harvey nodded, “and if I become a guardian, maybe I can actually help the community...that sounds like a fulfilling job actually. Jant, you’re a genius!”

“Thank you sir!” Jant looked pleased with himself, especially at being called a genius by his teacher. He immediately started writing in his notebook again, his hands flying across the pages.