Gobby turned around and saw something horrifying. German had dropped the pastry. It lay on the ground in a muddy puddle, half-eaten and tragically alone. For a moment the boy could only stare, gasping for air, trying to process what he had just seen. You went whoosh… then bam… then… I don’t even know what that was. How did you do that?

  But Gobby wasn’t listening. He was staring at the pastry. A long, quiet second passed before he finally muttered, That strawberry jam was perfect.

  The boy still tried to say something, but Gobby, resigning himself to the loss of the pie, swings off his backpack, pulls off his wet, dirty T-shirt, takes a towel out of the backpack, and began wiping himself off.

  German tried to ask something again, but Gobby had already accepted the loss. He took off his backpack, pulled off the wet, dirty T-shirt, and took out a towel.

  From the backpack he pulled out a clean T-shirt with the same colorful logo – I am Gobba! – and put it on.

  Then he picked up the fallen pastry, walked to the trash container, and carefully placed it on the edge as if giving it a small ceremony. Maybe someone will still enjoy it.

  He exhaled, turned back to the boy, and finally asked, Are you okay?

  German blinked and at last managed to really look at the stranger who had just saved him. The guy looked… unusual. A chubby boy with messy hair, about one-seventy-six tall, wearing a ridiculous hand-decorated T-shirt and carrying a backpack that seemed to contain half his life.

  German stood up slowly and extended his hand. Thank you. My name is German.

  Gobby looked at the hand, then at German. Up close the boy really did resemble a miniature professor – blue classic shirt, neat trousers, small body with a slightly oversized head. The only thing missing were the glasses. Gobby grinned widely, dimples appearing in his cheeks, and shook his hand.

  German brushed the dust from his clothes and walked toward the trash containers. After a moment of searching he found his glasses. They were cracked straight through the middle.

  Are these yours?

  Yes.

  Gobby laughed. Now you really do look like a professor. My name’s Gobby.

  German examined the crack. Yes… but I don’t think they’ll survive much longer.

  Wait. I have an idea.

  Gobby opened his backpack again and rummaged around before pulling out a surprising pile of children’s medical plasters decorated with cartoon pictures. He held them out proudly. Will this help?

  German took one and began carefully taping the crack across the bridge of the glasses. Why do you have so many of these?

  Gobby shrugged. Don’t worry about it. Things just… happen around me.

  He swung the backpack onto his shoulders again, picked up the bag of pastries, and was about to leave the alley when he noticed German still standing there, uncertain what to do next. German had never experienced anything like this before and seemed completely lost.

  Gobby looked at him, then at the box behind him. German… is it just me, or are there kittens hiding back there? I love animals. Maybe we should take them to the shelter so someone can look after them.

  German carefully picked up the exhausted cat, placed her in the box with the kittens, lifted the box into his arms, and hurried after Gobby – carefully stepping around the bullies, who were only now beginning to groan and move again.

  Gobby walked a step ahead, eating another pastry and smiling to himself. Behind him German followed with the box of kittens in his arms. Inside his head a storm of questions was forming, but he didn’t dare ask any of them yet. Instead he tried to analyze the situation on his own, the way he always did.

  After finishing half a pastry, Gobby glanced back and asked casually, So how did you end up there?

  He didn’t realize it, but that simple question loosened something inside German. A barrier lifted and gave him permission to speak. German hesitated for a moment, ready to explain everything – the alley, the kittens, the bullies, the strange transformation he had just witnessed. Then another thought interrupted him. He had forgotten the most basic thing.

  Gobby’s name.

  German cleared his throat awkwardly. Sorry… could you repeat your name?

  Gobby stopped walking and looked at him with confusion. It’s written right here.

  What?

  Gobby pointed proudly at his T-shirt. Only now did German notice that the messy drawing was actually colorful text. I’m Gobby.

  German blinked. That’s your name?

  Exactly! Gobby straightened proudly. Isn’t it genius?

  What do you mean?

  Gobby lifted a finger as if explaining an important theory. I hate introductions. The whole “Hi, my name is…” thing is awkward. So I solved the problem. When I enter a new class or group I don’t have to say anything. I just point to the shirt and everyone knows my name.

  He tapped the words on his chest. And if they forget, they can just read it again. Genius, right?

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  German looked at him and then at the shirt, but his thoughts were already drifting somewhere else. The alley. The pain in his hands. The terrified kittens. Three bullies on the ground. The speed. The strength. The way Gobby’s body had changed for a moment.

  None of it made sense.

  I’m Gobba! Gobby suddenly repeated loudly, as if German might have forgotten already.

  German blinked and nodded slowly. Yes… that is very clever.

  Though in German’s mind the real genius had nothing to do with the shirt.

  A small meow came from the box.

  Both boys looked down.

  Gobby smiled. She’s right. We should keep moving.

  German nodded and finally began explaining everything – how he heard the kittens crying, how he gathered his courage, how he tried to protect them even though he knew he couldn’t win, and how Gobby had appeared out of nowhere and ended the fight in seconds. The explanation quickly turned into a stream of words.

  Gobby listened for about thirty seconds.

  Then he stopped walking, took another pastry from the bag, and gently pushed it toward German. Eat.

  Normally German would never accept food that someone else had already bitten. He was extremely precise about cleanliness and order. Under normal circumstances the idea alone would have been unthinkable.

  But this time he didn’t even hesitate.

  Maybe because the pause helped him organize the chaos in his mind.

  German wasn’t particularly social. He rarely spoke with other teenagers and had never been good at starting conversations. But after what happened in the alley there was no reason to be timid now. If he could stand in front of three aggressive bullies, he could certainly ask a question.

  Before taking a bite of the pastry he looked at Gobby carefully. Um… Gobby… I’m not sure how to say this, but earlier you kind of… changed. I might be wrong, but your body didn’t look the same.

  Gobby scratched the back of his head. Ah… that. Sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you.

  No, not scared. Just surprised. Do you know what it was?

  Sure. Gobby shrugged. My mom says I’m special. My dad just calls me a “chubby bodybuilder”.

  German frowned. What?

  Gobby laughed and patted his stomach. Apparently my body is full of muscles like an Olympian’s. You just can’t see them because they’re covered by a small protective layer.

  German studied him seriously. Gobby, I don’t think that’s what happened. I’ve seen athletes. Your body actually transformed. You became faster, stronger… even smaller. Your skin changed too.

  Gobby tilted his head. Really?

  German nodded slowly. And for a moment I thought I saw something else.

  Like what?

  A shadow. Above you.

  Gobby shrugged again. No idea. I trust my parents.

  German fell silent. It was obvious that Gobby himself had no idea how unusual he was. Which meant German would have to study him carefully. Patiently. Scientifically.

  They continued walking until the small building of the animal shelter came into view. But before they could reach the door, a group of cats appeared on the steps as if guarding the entrance. At their center sat a large one-eyed ginger tom with tangled fur and the expression of a seasoned commander. He looked at the boys carefully and let out a loud, rough meow.

  Hey Pirate. We brought you some new friends. Hope you’ll help them settle in. Pirate slowly blinked at him, which Gobby seemed to interpret as approval, and rang the bell. German tried to step onto the porch as well, but Pirate immediately hissed and slapped his sneaker with a sharp paw, making it very clear that the visitor had not yet been cleared. German froze and thought with surprise that he once owned a tarantula, and even that creature had never shown such confidence.

  Gobby laughed quietly. Pirate’s the local security. Until he checks you, you’re not getting in. Let him sniff your hand so you can introduce yourselves. Or you can try the other option. Bribery.

  German looked down at the cat. And if I offer him my hand… he won’t bite it off?

  Only if you’re too slow, Gobby replied calmly. But don’t worry. He’s not a big fan of human meat.

  German hesitated, then broke off a small piece of pastry and carefully offered it to Pirate. The cat leaned forward with the expression of a very strict restaurant critic. He sniffed the hand, gave it a brief approving lick, grabbed the treat, swallowed it, and slowly blinked again.

  Gobby nodded with satisfaction. Congratulations. You’ve been accepted. Now you’re welcome here.

  At that moment the shelter door opened. In the doorway stood a thin, nervous woman around forty years old dressed entirely in black. She looked at Gobby first, then into the box of kittens, and then back at Gobby again.

  Hi Auntie. We brought a kitten that got into trouble. Can you help?

  The woman sighed deeply. Gobby… where do you keep finding them? I already have nowhere to put the ones I have.

  Gobby shrugged. Well… if it’s too much trouble, we can go to Miss Belly instead.

  The reaction was immediate. Stop! she snapped. You are absolutely not taking them to that butcher. She doesn’t brush them and feeds them the cheapest garbage imaginable.

  Only then did she notice German and study him from head to toe. Is this your new friend?

  German quickly introduced himself and tried to explain what had happened, but the woman gently patted his head and waved both boys inside. Come in. I’m Mary. I run this shelter.

  The moment they entered, Mary began issuing orders as if she had been waiting for them all day. Gobby, go to the storage room and bring the food from the pink can. Then go to the bathroom and bring me a towel soaked in warm water. German, follow Gobby and clean yourself up while you’re there. Right now you smell worse than the kittens.

  German blushed immediately, only now realizing how he must smell after everything that had happened.

  Mary continued without missing a beat. Gobby, give him a pair of trousers. And German, don’t even ask why I happen to have pants exactly your size here. Right, Gobby? she added with a sly smile in his direction.

  After the kittens were cleaned, fed, and settled in, the boys eventually stepped back outside. Mary stood in the doorway and called after them. And don’t forget to tell people you trust that the kittens will be ready for adoption in about three months. Did you hear me?

  Of course, Auntie. Thanks, Gobby replied. Just keep the gray one for German. Those two already like each other.

  German looked at Gobby in surprise and then thought about it for a moment. The small gray kitten really had caught his attention.

  Mary closed the door behind them. Gobby looked at German thoughtfully and then brightened. Maybe we should eat again. I still have some pastries left. They taste better when they’re hot though.

  German shook his head. No thanks. You bought them for yourself.

  Gobby waved that concern away. Come on. We spent the day rescuing lives. That burns a lot of energy. Let’s celebrate properly with the best pastries on the quay.

  They ended up sitting by the waterfront eating the remaining pastries together. Afterward they went their separate ways but agreed to meet again the next day to visit the kittens at Mary’s shelter. German no longer asked Gobby any questions about what had happened earlier. There was a simple reason for that. Gobby himself clearly had no idea that anything unusual had happened.

  Later that evening German returned home after a day full of events. He walked to his desk, took a small piece of paper, and wrote something on it. Then he opened a drawer, took out his notebook, and carefully stuck the paper onto the cover.

  The note read: Subject No. 1 – Gobby.

  Not far from the quay where the boys had been eating pastries, the lights were still on in an expensive apartment on the fourteenth floor.

  Inside the bedroom lay the body of a young woman. The main scene, however, unfolded in the living room. A man lay on the floor in a star-like position, his limbs spread wide. His tendons and nerves had been cut with surgical precision so that he could not move, yet he remained fully conscious. A gag filled his mouth, preventing him from calling for help. Above him stood another man of almost unreal proportions – extremely tall and thin, with long arms that nearly reached his knees. He wore a gray knitted sweater that hung like a coat with a small hole in the fabric, a panama hat on his head, and heavy army boots. He leaned over the helpless man and pressed a finger to his lips. Shhh.

  With the other hand he made a precise incision across the chest with a scalpel. Using special clamps, he opened the ribcage and carefully removed the heart. He placed the heart into a small bowl and carried it to the table. The table was already set for one person. He laid the heart neatly on the plate, removed his black gloves, calmly tucked a napkin into his collar, seasoned the dish, picked up the scalpel and the fork, and prepared to begin his meal.