Congratulations and Good Luck

USA, In a College Parking Lot.

A small and clearly excited robed rodentine figure could be seen bounding about with a diploma in his hand and a cap atop his head. It had been 8 long years of education, but he'd finally done it! Within his hands held the key to a new life! One that wasn't profitable as before, but certainly far more enjoyable. A Masters in Teaching could land even an even self-admittedly quite repulsive looking Mutant a job, especially with how desperately new teachers were needed. He also took a Minor in Japanese, just in case whatever school he wished to apply for needed someone to teach it, it never hurt to have more job security in one's skillset after all.

If only one Michelson Tyler knew just how much that Minor would change his life forever.

Anyways, Michelson made it to his car, a royal blue custom-made vehicle for people of his stature. He looked around it's interior and chuckled to himself, or more accurately chittered due to his enlarged incisors.

"Guess I really do ought to take care of ya' Blue. Not like I'm gonna afford another one of ya' on a teacher's salary."

As funny as he thought it was, he inwardly sulked a bit as it was a big fat lie. He'd amassed enough money to buy twelve of of the the cars he was currently sitting in with his previous profession if necessary. His mind quickly wandered far away from that thought though, only the future lay ahead.
And so he drove to his modest home in a nice suburb, until-

vrrm vrrm......vrrm vrrm

"That's weird", Michelson thought aloud. He could've sworn he'd gone through all of the ceremonial rigmarole of graduation, and they told him that they wouldn't get any additional calls or texts as they were free men and women. He was also quite the loner during his academic run, focusing almost entirely on his studies and having his appearance made sure of that.

Though there was one group from college that would be annoying enough to call him after graduation that came to mind.

The MII, the Mutant Inclusion Initiative.

Michelson had interacted with them once towards the beginning of his college tour, and deemed them immensely patronizing and annoying. Thus, he never interacted with them again in any official sense. But oh boy had they tried to interact with him through to get that sweet sweet spresentation and revenue. And so he got his phone ready to nonchalantly and professionally deny whatever they wished to say to him or get him to.

"YOU FUCKING COCKSU--......oh. huh. Guess I owe you guys an apology."

Nothing.

"Not gonna give it to you though."

There wasn't any notifications on his smartphone. No calls, no messages, no notifications from the academic applications installed.

vrrm vrrm......vrrm vrrm

It took him a bit, but it clicked after a few seconds.

sighhhh

Michelson narrowed his eyes and looked aroud the neighborhood and the people within it in detail. He knew they were good people what wouldn't intrude on his business. And that the car was soundproofed to hell and back.

But procedure was procedure.

He got out of his car for a bit and made sure that the windows were tinted to the point of not revealing any information about the goings-on about the car. He was lucky he could easily justify it with the nature of his eyes, other operatives had to have elaborate explanations.

Michelson carefully opened up the storage compartment of his car, looking upon a blocky device that seemed to look more like a graphing calculator than a phone. Anybody with even basic knowledge on the business of espionage could tell it was a burner.

vrrm vrrm......vrrm vrrm

And that was where the vibrations came from.

And Michelson didn't like it. Unfortunately with matters related to this particular subject, he would have to hold any debates entirely within his head.

{I've been officially retired for eight years, why the hell would they call me know, and why me specifically?}

Michelson wasn't technically employed to any organization when he "worked" at his previous "employment", but he got the go-ahead in order to pursue his independent goals regardless of any further operations. Even if people with more basic Mutant-Type Quirks predominantly made up their black-ops units due to how easy it was to recruit them, he knew damn well that the US Government had far better Quirks at their disposal than
"fugly midget that can chew on shit real good" as he would graciously describe his own to fellow operatives.

{ I've done a lotta things that I regret, and this phone led to most of em'.... I don't technically even have to pick it up anyway. But If I dont.... I know the game, I know what they do to people who refuse the call of duty. Let alone what kinda shit they'll pull considering I wanna be a teacher of all things. }

vrrm vrrm......vrrm vrrm

sighhh

"Looks like I'm gettin' back into the rodeo again."

Michelson picked up the phone, with a familiar voice of an old man giving a dissatisfied huff before going onto whatever he was going to talk about.

"Insert Codename. Over"

Shit. The miniscule irrational hope that this was a butt-dial just went right down the drain.

So, Michelson cracked his neck and reluctantly answered the call, lest his computer be infested with the worst things mankind had to offer.

"Hotel Charlie Golf November Mike Romeo. Over."

That was Michelson Tyler's code name, HCGNMR or Heterocephalus Glaber Naked Mole Rat.

{Now to see what kind of bullshit they would have have me doing this time. It must be something real nice to have to bring me back in.}

It would seem his suspicions were correct, though perhaps not in the way he expected.

"You got a new job Mick, Its something that only you can do. I'll send the address. You'll be briefed on the mission on sight. Messenger out. "

A address popped up on the low resolution screen, and Michelson gave one final heavy sigh as his fate was seemingly sealed into another highly secretive, dangerous, and likely very cramped mission. Something that they'd only give to a rodent like him.

USA, [REDACTED]

The diminutive rodent-man sat in an enclosed black room on a raised metal chair, resting his hands on a reflective metal table. The place was illuminated by a singular lamp in the middle of the ceiling. The scenery looked to be the ideal place either an interrogation or a shady backroom deal. Michelson could only hope that he would be participating in the latter.

Soon enough, 3 men in suits walked in the room with a serious demeanor.

The first man Michelson Identified as the man behind the Messenger codename, a regrettably familiar face that sent him on all kinds of missions. He was an emotionless and stoic aged man with graying hair and a hunched back, with the most notable feature of his being his eyes of pure glowing jade. If one looked deep enough, they would see hundreds of lines of binary code constantly flowing across the two green orbs. His assignments were mostly Sabotage or Demolition, to chew on the right things in the right place and all that. But Assassinations weren't out of the question to say the least.

The second man was someone Michelson knew in passing, he was his specific branch's liaison with the Hero Association. He was a muscular Caucasian young man seemingly in his 20's with royal blue hair that reminded him of his car, which was likely the only reason he remained within his mind. He didn't know anything about the guy's Quirk, but the light in the middle always flickered whenever he did show up, so he had his guesses. Regardless, his presence meant that it would one of the rare assignments he would be working with the Hero Association on. It was always a welcome surprise to have help, but this meant this wasn't something that the Hero Association couldn't, or more likely wouldn't handle on it's own.

The third man however was someone that Michelson had never met in his life. He was an Asian man with black hair and was small in stature, though not nearly as diminutive as Michelson himself. He seemed to be exchanging glances with the liaison, so it could only be assumed he was also an associate of the Hero Association. His Quirk didn't change any visible physical features about himself, so it could be just about anything. He carried a metal suitcase, and gently laid it upon the table once he sat down.

The first one to speak was the American Liaison

"As you have been told Mr.Tyler, this assignment requires a specific set of skills that you and very few other people possess. This particular assignment coincidentally pertains to your recent academic endeavors, and will see you as a teacher within a Japanese Hero Academy. I'll hand the rest of the explanation to my Japanese associate."

Normally, Michelson knew better than to let any sort of emotion cross his visage during an assignment. But even he couldn't contain the sheer confusion and bewilderment that he was currently experiencing upon his face, which was wrinkled far more than even the usual amount as where his eyebrows would be curled inward.

Asides from Messenger, both of the remaining men shared a very slight chuckle. The now identified Japanese Liaison continued the effort towards shattering the psyche of an anthropomorphic rodent. He tapped the suitcase and began speaking.

"More specifically, due to a situation that has a corresponding dossier within this suitcase, one Shiketsu High is in more desperate need of adequate educational staff than usual."

Which was saying A LOT, but Michelson knew better than to doubt the words of his handlers. Said Japanese handler morphed his two index fingers into very intricate metal keys, opened the suitcase, and revealed something absolutely absurd even for a black-ops agent like Michelson.

"Though in order to have official employment within Shiketsu as a Hero-Class Teacher, you'll need a....promotion of sorts."

There, laying in the suitcase in on top of a large black notebook was an International Hero License, with a shining picture of his (quite repulsive) face and the following text in big bold letters:

MICHELSON TYLER

THE MOLE HERO: TUNNEL RAT

Michelson had to admit, he felt really fucking cool right now. Like before, he couldn't control his emotions and couldn't help but have a smile filled of un-shattered dreams and child-like glee. He then chittered a bit.

{Man I really am getting rusty. Good thing I age like fine wine and can exercise right back to my peak whenever I want. Being a repulsive fuck ugly abomination has it's perks.}

The Hero Association Members had a slight smile on their faces too. They constantly dealt with the much darker side of Hero Society and it's trappings, it was nice to have someone be happy from their actions rather than somber at best.

Asides from the collective tiny break that they had, the American Representative began speaking once more.

"Well Mr.Tunnel Rat, I officially welcome you to the Hero Association. Now, all you have to do is take an all-expenses-paid flight to Japan and read the dossier on the way there."

Right now, Michelson felt even more excited than he did at the beginning of the day. Though this time he made sure to keep it on the down-low in terms of facial expressions.

Once he went to the door, he heard Messenger speak, but not only that, but Messenger had by far the biggest (and only) grin that Michelson had ever seen on his face, the kind that was filled with joy that only an old man could give.

At this point Michelson went with the punches, and just nodded happily and shut the door.

Once the other men left in order to report back to their respective Hero Association HQ's, Messenger started musing to himself.

"If anybody deserves to have their dreams fulfilled it's him, Lord only knows what I put the poor bastard through."

"Congratulations and Good Luck"