Clarence was going to protest when Shindo said that he was not going to train him, but then he reconsidered. Because of Flash Forward’s powers, he probably underwent a very different training regimen than Mrs. Pickles would need. When Sunshine was recommended, Clarence nodded.  

	[color=8dc73f]“I’d be more than willing to try, as long as you’re alright with it,”[/color] said Clarence to Sunshine. Then, he remembered a detail about the hero. This was the guy who did the costumes right? This was quickly confirmed. [color=8dc73f]“A costume sounds great. I may come by and purchase one later.[/color]” When I’m not strapped for cash. 

	Seeing his attempt to fool Pumpkin Witch had been a bit of a failure, Clarence turned his attention to Violet Reaper. He could tell that she was probably going to be a strict instructor, but he’d have to at least try it out, even if she was [url=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CRSqeCjVAAAzyCS.png]harsh.[/url] [color=8dc73f]“I am willing,”[/color] he said, [color=8dc73f]“thank you.”[/color]

	Then, the moment of truth. Danzo walked in. Mrs. Pickles stood in awe. Most of the heroes could be seen every once in awhile around the cities, but not Danzo. Seeing him face to face was a privilege left mostly to reporters and heroes. His arrival was also unexpected. Danzo would address him unless directly unless he had not only been promoted but promoted to... 

	Oh no. Oh dear! This couldn’t be good! He wasn’t ready for this!!! This could only mean one thing! [i]Mrs. Pickles was going to be promoted all the way to a B-Ranked hero![/i] Dang, he certainly was not ready for that! Hopefully, he’d be ranked fairly low among the B-Ranked heroes so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed. 

	“For almost single handedly eliminating the demon-level threats in…” Oh man, here it comes. Clarence was half way between throwing up and peeing himself. This was a big misunderstanding! Sure he had taken them out but it had not only been him, and there had been a great deal of luck involved. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. Clarence cleared his throat and began to explain himself. [color=8dc73f]“Look, I-”[/color] he began faintly.

	“...promote you to S-Rank 15.” Clarence was stunned. No way. This had to be an elaborate prank! A joke. Heroes traveled to distant countries and spent years learning the secrets of a culture's fighting tactics and strategies. Mrs. Pickles had taken two karate classes in the third grade and some boxing lessons for a few months back in high school. Heroes had mighty weapons with legendary names. Mrs. Pickles had a cruddy hunting rifle his father had given him and a silly little box. Heroes spent hours conditioning their bodies to get into peak physical condition. Mrs. Pickles got drunk and urinated in gardens. Heroes had charisma and superpowers. Mrs. Pickles had a hangover and a peculiar smell. Heroes had stunning costumes and majestic capes. Mrs. Pickles had a tattered… actually, he didn’t even have that. 

	To say that Mrs. Pickles was scared would be as big of an under exaggeration, like saying “the Harlem Globetrotters have a satisfactory win rate,” or “the Pacific Ocean is a tad large.” This was not supposed to happen. What had started off as drunken shenanigans had gone too far. This wasn’t just silly. It was dangerous…

	But what was Clarence supposed to do? Back down? He had to take advantage of this opportunity. How else would he prove himself? [color=8dc73f]“Th-thank you,”[/color] said Mrs. Pickles. 

	However, he was soon met with another problem. Violet Reaper. He was not prepared to deal with her rage. Mrs. Pickles had a feeling it would take a lot more than this to get her to randomly kill or pummel a guy, and he was a tad too preoccupied to allow her threats to affect him. 

	[color=8dc73f]“I’m going to go…”[/color] said Mrs. Pickles. Dang. He couldn’t register all of this nonsense. [color=8dc73f]“I’m going to go home. Take a shower. Clean up.”[/color] And with that, Clarence, expressionless, grabbed his luggage and walked out of the Headquarters. He ignored Violet Reaper. He ignored Danzo. He ignored the people shouting because of his promotion, and the people whispering about it. He ignored the other heroes. He ignored the reporters. He didn't hear them. He just heard a voice in his head uttering one word over and over and over again:

	
[hider=Watch your profanity]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpigjnKl7nI]Shit.[/url]
[/hider]


	Clarence eventually found a deserted alleyway and rifled through his suitcase until he found his hoodie. He put it on and went into a nearby internet cafe.

	He anonymously slunk behind one of the desks and quietly searched something in Google.

	[u]How much do S-Rank heroes get paid?[/u]

	Clarence’s eyes widened. Well, if they made from $250,000 to $1,000,000 a year… he was probably making $300,000 a year! His parents had always wanted him to make six figures…

	Suddenly, Clarence heard somebody talking to the owner of the cafe, pointing at the television in the corner. “Have you seen this? No?!? Turn it up, turn it up!” Clarence watched a listened in awe.

	“... So we’re just getting more developments of this story, but a man recently took a significant jump in the ranks today after supposedly finishing off a monster with an elevator and single handedly defeating a chimera! This hero, known by the bizarre name of ‘Mrs. Pickles’ has not been seen or heard from for questioning, but has been a hot topic recently after going from the bottom of C-Rank to S-Rank 15. We know virtually nothing about this hero. His powers and abilities are completely unknown, but what we do know is this, people will be expecting…” Clarence slowly got up and left as the broadcast continued. Finally, he found a decent hotel, rented a room for the next two nights took a long shower and curled up onto the bed. And with that, Mrs. Pickles, the legendary S-Rank hero who had stumbled through the ranks and broken records in just a day, began to watch Animal Planet.

	
[hider=Yellow Suit]
“How much?”
	“Forty thousand.”
	“Forty thousand?”
	“Yeah!”
	“You mean to tell me I gave you that much product and your goons piled up forty thousand.”
	“Pretty good huh?”
	“No. Pretty bad. Very bad. Do you have any idea how bad?”
	“I mean, the goal was thirty thousand.”
	“Thirty thousand each you idiot.”
	“Look, I just-”
	Mrs. Pickles stood up as a gunshot woke him up from his slumber. “... the wombat’s excrement is actually in the shape of…” Hm… he must have been imagining things. Maybe there had been a noise on the television. Still... 
	Mrs. Pickles left his room and quickly looked around. He saw a thin, elderly man with a bright yellow suit walking down the hallway.
	Hm… how odd. He had left his room wide open. And the little mints were still on the bed! Well, Mrs. Pickles wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to- woah! What was a dead guy doing in here! He’d been shot! Oh no! He had to call somebody for help! But… but who? Mrs. Pickles was the help. He was the fifteenth most qualified person in the world for it. Surely he could handle this!
	Mrs. Pickles quickly dashed back to his room and found the hunting rifle, and then rushed towards the door to come face to face with the man with a yellow suit. 
	“What the-” exclaimed the yellow-suited man.
	Mrs. Pickles pointed his rifle at the man. “Look, look, this is all a misunderstanding. You see, I didn’t shoot that man.”
	“You idiot, I didn’t even say anything about shooting-” with that, the yellow suited man lunged forward and punched Mrs. Pickles in the throat, and then dashed for the exit. 
	Mrs. Pickles rushed after the murderer, firing his rifle towards him, but continuously missing. Finally, the two found themselves outside and the man with a yellow suit was climbing into his car. He turned around and fired at Mrs. Pickles, who dove behind a plant. Mrs. Pickles fired a shot at his tire, and then looked around for something to use. Mrs. Pickles raced for the nearest available vehicle (a moped, temporarily and briefly abandoned by a woman who had quickly entered the hotel to check in and forgot her keys) and began to drive it after the man as quickly as possible.

 
[/hider]