Harold checked his mail in his apartment, raising his eyebrows. He had to hold back a whoop of excitement. Yes! There was finally something big to stop! An enemy he could face, instead of the slow, steady rot of evil that ate at human hearts. He picks up the cricket bat he’d bought to replace his sword. It was the same general shape. He then stows his handgun under his jacket. He was wearing modern clothes, for practicality’s sake. He then whistles for his dog, patting the mutt’s head with a grin. “You ready to get back to real hero work?” The dog barks and smiles, and Harold chuckles. Walter was at his own job, as a secretary.<br/><br/>Harold walked out the door, making sure to carry a ball in the hand that wasn’t holding the bat, to make it less suspicious when he crossed town. The dog stayed by his side without needing to be told, and as he arrived at the address, he checked his letter once more. This was the place. He rings the doorbell.... and waits for all of five seconds before ringing again, twice. “Bloody hell.”