Locked In Digital

by RogueDruid (Icarius51)

Summary:

A day goes bad to worse for 14 year old Izuku Midoriya, as he wakes up trapped in a computer simulation with nine different Horror games. The only objective given by the madman who locked him in? Beat all nine games, or be deleted.

A year later, a very different Izuku shows up at the Gates of UA to take the entrance exam.

What horrors has he faced?

Notes:

• Translation into Español available: Locked In Digital (¡Traducido al Español!) by Felipollo, RogueDruid (Icarius51)

Chapter 1: Zero-Day Patch

Uraraka Ochako rushed up the front steps of UA, heart thumping in her chest.

‘Today is the day! The first step! All I have to do is pass the entrance exam. I can do this. I know it!’

Pumping herself up, she jogged down the path to the building, her eyes flashing over the people who were walking with her. From attention-grabbing blonde spikes, to pink skin, and even a towering teen with six arms.

And then her eyes passed over him and something deep in her skull tingled, a warning. Instinct, flickering on and making her notice the teen walking ahead of her.

He looked almost fragile. Short, thin, and most of his form hidden by a dark tan jacket with a fake fur collar that reached halfway up his cheeks, revealing only the barest smattering of freckles. He had earbuds in, his loosely spiked green hair falling to cover the rest of his face from the cheekbones up. Aside from the loose black slacks, and tan jacket, the only thing visible about him was the long boxy case slung over his shoulder. Likely tools or gear for the physical exam; if she was right, they were allowed if built by the applicant.

Beyond that was something about his stance. He moved with a weird silent grace, his steps surefooted. There was a tension to his frame, though.

 

As she jogged by his eye darted her way, deep fathomless green and black focusing on her, before flicking back forwards.

 

She wondered why she felt like she was being acknowledged, and then dismissed.

 

Breaking free from her thoughts, she passed the teen, hearing the faint bassbeat of his music as she passed within reaching distance.

‘Why did he look familiar…. Dammit, I can worry later. Exam now!’

---

“No built-in cheat of a Quirk, no hero here to save you, and a drive to be somebody. Oh, you will work wonderfully.”

 

“What? Sir… Who are you?”

“Heh, kid. Because the world isn't ready, and I'm tired of waiting. I want to see it. The end of all my work.”

“What is it!? What do you want from me!?”

“I want you to become a survivor. I want you to win.”

---

Tenya breathed deeply and slowly as he listens to Present Mic explain. However, he was interrupted from his thoughts by a very faint almost imperceptible sound from the side of the room. A slow repetitive sound. A rasp, metal on stone, he believed.

 

It took a few seconds for him to identify it, but when he did he frowned. A figure to the side, sitting on the very end of the very back row, a blade and sheath half-drawn in his lab, though the shape was too far and too awkwardly angled to make out. At the very least he could say it wasn't a katana. A ring with a flat stone plane sliding over its edge. If not for his acute hearing, he may have even missed it under Present Mic’s voice. And if he could hear it, he guaranteed that most of the other people near the teen would also hear it, possibly drowning out the Instructions! What a diabolical plan to get a one up over the competition! In fact, Mic’s words offered another question!

 

He stood up and offered his insight to the examiners.

“May I ask a question!? There appear to be no fewer than four varieties of faux villains on this handout! Such a blatant error, if it is one, is highly unbecoming for U.A., Japan's Top Academy! We are here to be molded into model heroes after all!” And then he turned his attention.

“And you, with the sword! Do you think this is a game!? Your maintenance is distracting and should have been done earlier!”

Cool sharp eyes looked up from under limp black and green hair, and the blade in his hand was closed with a smooth rasp of leather and wood on metal. “Apologies. It's a nervous tick of mine. I’ll refrain.” the words were soft and calm, but clear and easy to hear.

 

Accepting such a reason, Tenya focused back on the examiner, as the 0-pointer was revealed and explained.

For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel cool sweat along his spine, as if he had just had a close encounter with something dangerous.

Later, as he readied for the exam, he couldn't help but seek out the green haired teen.

It took several moments, but there, in the shadow of the wall next to the gateway, stood the teen. His jacket was unzipped, revealing a tight black shirt, laced with what looked almost like rips made of metal. Hanging from it was black straps leading deeper into his jacket, where a myriad of shapes was hidden under the loose form.

 

And at his side, was the sword. It was clearer now, the long fairly wide blade, and the wide blocky crossguard.

 

Iida considered confronting the teen once more, berating him for off putting the other exam applicants with his demeanor, when the shout of “GO” from Present Mic grabbed his attention.

 

By the time Mic had finished yelling about how there were no countdowns in real life, the teen with green hair was gone.

And a downed 1 pointer rested in the street past the gates, far ahead of the rest of the examinees rushing that way.

---

“It’s quite simple. There are 9 games I’ve loaded into the simulation, each one designed to teach you skills and force you to think… creatively.”

“Complete every game, and you get to leave.”

“And the world will get to see exactly how effective my designs are.”

---

Aoyama grunted as he fired once more, another robot shattering under the force of his laser.

It had to be the tenth or so, most of them the higher value 2 and 3 pointers; and he still had plenty of time.

 

However, as he jogged forwards to search for a new target, he heard the whine of engines and turned a corner, to see a pair of 3-pointers charging the same green teen who had been singled out during the explanations.

 

He stood, sword held in his right hand as the two robots closed in. Taking a deep breath, Aoyama began to ready his laser once more before the teens left hand raised, and two shots rang out, the sound of gunfire startling the French teen.

 

He barely had time to register the matte black gun in the teen’s left hand, held back and away from the 3 pointers charging him, and instead at the bot that had been flanking him, which was now smoking from a cracked lens in its ‘face’ and leaking oil from a hole punched through its chassis.

 

As the other robot grew closer, the gun was swiftly holstered, vanishing in the depths of the tan jacket, and the green haired teen stepped forwards.

 

A swinging robot fist, fast and strong enough to crush through cars and buildings, but missing green hair by over a foot. The teenager had stepped in closer than the fist was passing and brought his blade up and around, left hand supporting the right through its motions, moving faster than Aoyama could trace.

 

As he did, the gears and wiring of one shoulder flashed with sparks, wiring severed before he lunged up and off the knee of the robot. The blade pierced through the neck of the beast, through cables and wires, and was torn to the side, leaving the robot to twitch before slumping, disabled.

 

In all, both take-outs took less than ten seconds from start to finish. Aoyama had barely had time to gather his nerves from the sound of the gunshots before it was over.

 

Green eyes met blue, and the mysterious green-haired teenager pivoted and leapt down from the bot, before heading further away.

 

“Perhaps I should hunt down some less… contested points. Yes, that will be for the best.”

Aoyama took a turn away from the young man with a sword, focusing back on his own task.

---

“Is that the kid.” A tall man wearing loose dark clothes watched the screens, glancing down at the suited animal next to him. “The simulation survivor.”

“It is. His application was quite interesting, I must say. Particularly when you consider his absence from schooling for the last year. The fact he managed to pass the practice exams sent to him is remarkable.”

“Hmmm. He’s skilled. What about his mind.”

“There lie the problems. Isolation. Trauma. Stress and anxiety are all through the roof. But… he does seem to have a handle on it. Coping mechanisms and an understanding of his own triggers to a frankly wonderful degree.”

 

“Hmmph. Send in the 0-pointer. I want to see how he reacts.”

A button pressed, and the rumble of the robot moving echoed through the observation room.

Aizawa kept his focus on the green haired teen.

‘ Show me your potential, Izuku Midoriya.’

---

 

Uraraka gasped, dropping the robots around her, and panting from exertion and fighting off a wave as nausea.

 

“Tw…. Twenty-eight!”

She began to advance, running deeper into the city, before the ground rumbled.

 

“Wh-” She glanced up eyes widening as she took in the massive form of the robot that was grasping the building.

 

In fact, she was so distracted she didn’t see the falling debris about to bury her.

 

But then a hand grasped her shoulder, and she felt herself get pulled. She recognized it as something almost like a judo flip, dry and sure hands gripping her arm and shoulder as she was pulled back and swung around from the collapsing building. She left the ground just as the impact of debris shook her out of her stupor, but by the time she was about to say something she was on the ground over three meters away from the impact, having been sent sliding across the street.

 

“Hey. You can nullify gravity, right?”

That voice was calm and smooth, and she glanced to see the teen she had noted on the way in. he stood, arm still holding her back behind him as he focused on the massive robot tearing through the area. His sword was sheathed at his side, and he was rummaging inside his jacket for something with his other hand.

“That thing’s gonna cause more problems and damage than leaving it solves. I need to either stop its movements or kill it. Mind using your quirk on me for a minute?” he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with intent.

 

“Uh, yeah. Here!” she tapped his arm, and suddenly she could feel the faint lift of pressure from his grip on her shoulder, fighting back the surge of nausea that it sent through her.

 

“Thanks. Hold it for about 30 seconds if you can. Sorta want to land after this.”

And then he was gone, leaping up at an angle and, surprisingly given how hard she knew that sort of control in zero-gravity was, landing in a window frame several floors up across the street, and then leaping from there to the opposite side of the the damaged building the 0-pointer was crashing through.

 

She lost sight of him, the robot already moving and causing more damage to the street, kicking up dust and smoke from its actions. Any other applicant nearby had long since vanished from the scene, and with nausea racking through her skull, she could barely stand straight as she jogged away from the robot, before grabbing a nearby car for balance. Glancing around. she tried to find the teen so she could let him down from whatever he was doing—wait, was he on the robot's shoulder?

He was.

 

Standing braced to the neck of the 0-pointer, he was shoulder deep in what looked like a maintenance panel, sparks flying as he sabotaged it. Yanking back, he came away with a length of cable wrapped around his arm, and the robot began to shudder, sparks shooting from several joints as it seized up and shifted awkwardly, one arm suddenly falling limp and dragging the robot across the intersection away from her as it swung its head back and forth.

 

Worried, she focused on the teen to see him swinging around from the top of the head, anchored by the cord in his left hand, while a long blocky shape was pulled from under his large jacket with his right, two straps showing it had clearly been cinched tight to his frame under the concealing outfit.

 

But the profile was unmistakable.

Grabbing the frame of the 0-pointers ‘face’ the green haired teen swung around, and landed, feet braced and wide, as the double-barreled shotgun in his hand was leveled dead center with the largest of the lenses adorning the robots head.

 

In the sudden silence, the world quieting as things seemed to slow.

 

The teen said one thing.

 

“Bitch.”

 

And then the roar of the shotgun blast and shattering glass echoed through the intersection.

 

And then the back of the robot began to spark, and smoke billowed out of it.

 

“What the actual fuck,” Ochako whispered, watching the teen leap from the robot even as it collapsed, limbs losing energy as it slumped, the green hair teen sliding the shotgun into his jacket with comfort even under the effects of Zero Gravity, spinning as he coasted away from the now seizure-ridden robot.

 

Remembering that she was the one doing that, she clapped her hands, the teen dropping the last half foot and shaking out his left arm. He paced his way towards her and held out a hand. Face softened slightly, and an air of contentment around him.

“Thanks for the assist. Name’s Midoriya, Midoriya Izuku.”

 

Suddenly it clicked. She knew exactly who this was.

“Uraraka Ochako…. Are you the simulation guy?” she panted, trying to fight back rising nausea.

 

Smirking, he slid his hands in his pockets, as behind him the 0-pointer tilted over, crashing to the ground.

“I might be.”

And then she puked on his boots.

---

Simulation: Survival

Day 1. Hour 2:12:11

Izuku gasped as he shot up from the white sheets, hand coming up to his neck.

 

Flashes of memory filled him. A needle, manic blue eyes, the underpass, the rough grip of latex around his neck.

 

Instead of the comforting room he was used to, with its colorful posters and hero worship clear, this room was… brutal in its simplicity. The bed was larger than he was used to, with a dark grey comforter and white sheets and pillows. The walls of the room were sheer concrete and lit by bars of a recessed white light. A desk was to his left and, halfway across the floor, grey carpet from under the bed gave way to white, square tile.

An open doorway to the far right led into an open space with a tiled wall, and across from the bed on the far wall was what looked like a closet, with curved metal panels acting as doors.

 

Finally, was a metal door to his left.

 

Speaking of, he glanced down to see that somehow he was dressed in black loose slacks and a white t-shirt with a green stripe from the collar down over the heart to the waist.

 

Scrambling, he got out of bed and moved to glance in the tiled room, revealing a bathroom with a shower, before darting to the closed door and looking at it. To his side was an green button. Tentatively, he pressed it, only for the door to open.

Before him, a large high ceilinged area stretched out.

‘Brutalist’ was his first thought. Large pale concrete expanses for walls and floors. With a glass floor over complex computer electronics in the center, around a raised podium with a reclined seat on it.

The far walls were a massive bank of windows, with a pale white glare filtering through the glass that blocked out any view past it, leaving only the faintest shape of buildings and streets out beyond the room. However, in the center of that wall, the room extended out into what looked like an office area. Desk, laptop, and high backed chair.

 

“Where am I?”

 

On the desk, a ringing began.

 

Suddenly Izuku felt nervous. This was… creepy. He glanced around and tried to find another way out, but besides an opening leading to a kitchen area, a glass conference table with a series of chairs around it, and several scattered white couches.

 

‘ What would All Might do?’

 

Taking a deep breath, he turned and tried to march for the desk, though the clash of his stern march with his short and thin stature was… comical, to say the least.

 

He looked for the phone, only to see the screen of the computer flashing with an ‘Incoming Call’ logo.

 

Tapping enter, the screen went black, before snapping on to show the caller.

 

Long red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and skin shallow and pale stretched around thick black rimmed glasses.

“Hello, Mister Midoriya. Pleasure to see you’ve awakened.”

 

“Wh-Where am I! Why am I here! What is going on!” Izuku shouted, voice cracking from stress.

 

Lips parted to reveal straight white teeth. “Well, that's quite simple. You are currently inside a computer. Not just any computer either, no… this is a high tech prototype. The first, and possibly only of its time. I call it the Simulation Drive. Your body has been turned to data, and you have been uploaded into the drive. What you see is a complex rendering of a location. In reality, you are in a computer.”

 

Izuku froze, ‘ in a computer’ he blinked and the words just… didn’t make sense. There were plenty of stories—fiction—about such a thing, but for it to happen, in real life? It was too absurd, even with quirks!

 

“See, my dream for three decades now has been to create a way to enter a digital world. I’ve researched and designed and tested for quite some time… and just as my prototype came to completion, I was fired. My research was taken, locked away… but I managed to keep the prototype. I’ve been testing it, but I keep running into a problem, you see.”

Izuku wanted to scream, to shout. But the words just kept bouncing inside his skull as he stared at the screen in horror.

 

“Quirks. The power of the people… break the simulation. They are unpredictable, untracked variables. The simulation can’t keep up with them. Not quite. So I needed a new target, a new tester… someone quirkless…. Someone with a dream. See, I've heard of your dilemma. You wish to be a hero… Well, I offer you the greatest training possible. The simulation has 9 ‘games’. Classics from early in the millennia that the system has revamped and used to form its own simulated tests and environments. All you have to do to leave… is complete all 9 games. Each has its own lessons… it's own changes and challenges. But fear not, the world is on your side. As you run through the games... As the simulations play out around you, the world can watch you perform. And who knows, you may even end up with some very useful advice…”

Izuku felt himself go limp, and crashed to the chair heavily, bouncing gently off its springs as he tried to process.

 

“Now I must leave you. I’ll be watching.” the glasses came off to reveal pale blue eyes. “Good Luck, have fun!”

The screen turned back, and Izuku stared at it before he spoke.

 

“But I suck at video games.”

Chapter 2: Loading

Summary:

the simulation begins in earnest, while the survivor focuses on the future.

Inko looked up as the door clicked and opened smoothly. Her heart jumped at the sight of her son, even as part of her ached at what he had to deal with. She heard the screams at night, had seen the flinching early in the morning before he had fully awaken. Beyond that…

“Ah, have you eaten?” she asked, even as Izuku’s eyes tracked through the room and he relaxed ever so slightly, sliding the tall case from his shoulder, but still holding it with a tight hand.

“...Not really. Sorry Ma.” and he really did look sorry. More than that, he looked disappointed in himself. She could almost read his mind as his shoulders slumped, that familiar air of self-disgust.

“None of that attitude!” she reached up and rubbed a hand across his cheek. Still startled by the fact that her son, who had barely reached her height before the simulation, was now several inches taller than her. Like she expected, angry tears welled beneath her thumb. “So you didn’t eat. Did you sleep well? How was the exam?”

He smiled. “I… Slept. A few hours. The exam was… Strange. Familiar.” he looked down, eyes closed. “It felt like I was back there… and it was… easy, to slip back into the the mindset.” he murmured, and Inko felt her heart break.

 

His therapist had approved him joining UA. it was, after all, prepared to help people cope with the same things her beautiful, dangerous, broken son dealt with. Trauma. Guilt. Stress.

 

Things that the general public would villainize him for.

 

Inko was many things, but ignorant of her son's experience was not one of them. She had forced herself to watch… to understand.

Izuku’s habits. His reflexes and skills and instincts had been changed. The slightest triggers, the most vague of warnings. He worked on overdrive.

His doctors referred to it as if he had reverted to a primal state of mind.

 

In a way, he had. He’d been forced to begin with the very basics. To build off of the most fundamental ideas. Of action, reaction, and focus.

 

Pulling slightly at her son's head, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll go put some tea and dinner on. Do what you need to while I do.” she stepped away, and Izuku wandered to the living room table, setting his case down and opening it while she moved away from the scene.

 

Even from the kitchen, she could hear the click and rasp of metal being disassembled.

Then the faint rustle of cloth over metal.

 

She didn’t like the fact her son was armed. That he had a gun, purchased and approved with UA’s entrance exam. Both she and UA had been clear. Unless he was actively on patrol or in UA testing grounds, his gun was filled with non-lethal options. From the bean bag rounds for his shotgun, to the custom clips of rubber bullets he had in his handgun.

As the clicking resumed, she waited as the tea boiled before her.

 

And then the whetstone came out.

 

And Izuku began to sing.

 

She knew it was a side effect of the ambiance in which he learned his blade. Of long hours and days under smoke filled and dead skies, of camping in sewers and sitting around bonfires while the demons of the night came and went.

 

Izuku’s song was wordless. There was no language in his actions. No word or story.

Instead it was a haunting melody of deep echoing breaths, and sharp syllabistic hissing. He had explained, the first time she heard it, that it was a counterpoint to the background music of the 9th game. A way to meet the melody and draw out the monsters he stalked.

 

A way to keep time and control his breathing in the flow of combat.

 

As the tea steeped, she could only listen with tears as her child sung.

 

---

 

Simulation: Hour 3:11:12

Izuku sat and stared at what the instructions on the computer called the Simulation chair, the blue and white of its design doing nothing to keep the aura of menace it extruded from him.

 

“I… I have to. Right? No. I should wait, let the heroes respond and come for me… but what if they don’t…”

The muttering filled the room, Izuku’s eyes locked on the chair as he focused.

 

Finally, he breathed deep, and pushed off the white chair he was perched on and slowly walked to the simulation chair.

Breathing deep, he shifted and lay on it, his small form perfectly conforming to the curve of the seat.

 

As he lay back, a clear white circular visor slid out and around his head, before starting. Nine labels appeared before him, but all but one was blank.

 

“What is…. Slender?”

 

The word left his lips, and the world turned white.

 

When it faded back in, he stood in a forest, the trees reaching up and into the dark sky. Izuku was sitting, with a flashlight on his lap.

 

Before him, a white screen with black text appeared.

 

Collect 100 Pages, Before The Slenderman catches you.

Record:
0/100

For a moment Izuku could only stare in confusion, before a deep staticy hiss began to echo from the forest. He could hear it, a faint almost imperceptible hiss that slowly grew louder as the menu shrunk. A beep from his wrist drew his attention, a watch he didn’t previously have displaying a counter of time- 0:00:21- and pages- 0/100. As he watched the time tick on, he looked up at the darkness around him. And then the hissing sound grew louder.

 

“Oh. God."

 

He turned, looking through the trees around him for some hint of a path or direction. As he looked behind him, he blinked, and there, in the distance, a spot of pale color in the night. He squinted, focusing as he tried to take it in… it was a person? He blinked, and suddenly, far closer than it was, the shape had moved. Here he could see more.

 

A head, pale and blank…. A black suit… and long misshapen limbs…

 

The static moved louder, and Izuku flinched, only to see the figure had closed almost a third of the distance, and that now he could make out the way the form shifted and flickered as he focused on it.

“Yeah…. Nope!”

Turning, Izuku took off through the woods at a sprint.

 

As the static faded in and out, his panic only grew.

 

---

 

“Do you have your badge? Handkerchief? Tissues? Notebooks?” Inko worried her hands and glanced around even as Izuku looked up, a black single strap courier bag on the table as he slid the last few bits of gear away.

“Ma… I got it.” he called out, giving a soft, if strained, smile.

He had been preparing for over a week, ever since his acceptance letter had arrived.

 

---

“Congratulations! You have passed the UA entrance exam with flying colors”

*Pft*

Izuku lowered the gun, breathing deeply and lifting the gun up in an effort to calm himself as the holographic image of a small mammal in a suit paused, before continuing its speech.

 

“Your exceptional combat skills, as well as your initiative and awareness in saving a fellow student and taking out a massive local threat, means you pass with the second highest score of this years examinees!”

 

A screen appeared, names and numbers denoting scores scrolling down.

 

He focused on the first two though.

‘Katsuki Bakugo: 77 VIllain Points, 0 Rescue Points’

 

‘Midoriya Izuku: 54 Villain Points, 20 Rescue Points’

 

“Now, I know of your recent experiences and trials, particularly of this last year, and would like to assure you. We at UA are ready and willing to help you any way we must. But you must come to us if you have issues. We also remind you that part of your admittance is that you must speak to a registered and approved therapist. Please come in a day early for us to finalize details as we go.”

Izuku nodded absently, already pulling a pen and noting that down on the cluttered desk of notes and reminders.

“With that out of the way, I would like to welcome you to UA.”

“This is your Hero Academia .”

---

 

Izuku blinked, dismissing the memory. Shrugging the bag up and over his back, it fit snugly against and around the white sword bag tied with a red and gold Fusahimo. The emblem of a yellow sun with reaching red beams was painted painstakingly across the center of the bag. A recognition of the NPC who originally taught Izuku the basics of swordplay.

At the thought, an image flashed to mind. White tunic and steel, flashing in the weak light of a dying sun.

 

Pushing it away, he tightened his bag to keep it from moving and headed for the door.

 

“Izuku!”

He paused.

“I… I’m proud of you. You know. For coming back to me… after everything.”

 

Izuku felt his heart clench.

“I know… It's hard. That you aren’t the same. But I am so, so proud of you. I know, that you will be an amazing hero.”

 

Izuku hand steady, opened the door.

“Thanks… Mom.”

Twin tear tracks traced down his cheeks, but he made not a sound, as he left the apartment.

 

He was at the base of the stairs soon enough, exiting onto the street and looking up at the bright and lively sun.

His eyes were dry.

 

He heaved a sigh and set his shoulders, hands pulling his earbuds from his pockets even as his eyes focused ahead of him. Looking up, his thoughts wandered back to the examiner from the entrance exam.

 

“Plus Ultra… I can get behind that.”

In his eyes, an old spark flickered.

---

Bakugou leaned against the wall on a cold street corner, one hand in his pocket and scarf around his neck. On his phone, was a video. Just one part of a story among many. He had headed out from the house to get away from his nag of a mother for a few hours.

 

He tapped play.

 

Green eyes and hair filled the center of the screen, hands up with a handgun in one and a flashlight in the other. Sure and steady steps, a flash of light playing over ornate wallpaper and crown molding even in his gun slowly waved back and forth around the room.

 

To the side of the image, the scrawl of the chat, live at the time of the video recording, showed plenty of comments about being careful, or that the ‘character’ needed to get a move on.

 

A whistle, and a shambling step signaled a new figure. Black slacks and a once white shirt, now stained with blood and pus, leaned around the corner, half dead eyes looking up past a white film as they tracked to the teens light, the pupils not even twitching as the light met them.

 

Two bangs rang out, an eye vanishing in an explosion of gore, even as the mouth did the same. Black and red flesh blew across the wall behind it, the corpse collapsing to the ground slowly.

 

The green haired figure moved closer and stomped down, smashing the neck into paste with repeated kicks and solid boots even as the beam light danced around the room, the teen on high alert.

 

As the head separated from the body, he stopped, and glanced around. Green eyes caught the light with a manic glint, visible even through the screen as they stared out from a face covered with flecks of blood.

“I really hate this fucking mansion.”

Breathing deep, Bakugou paused the video there and closed the fullscreen, a flash of the video’s title coming up.

“The Simulation: Game 7.
Recorded Live: October 6th.”

 

Katsuki breathed out, as the phone was slid away.

 

“Nine months and change…. What did you become nerd.”

Chapter 3: Autosave is On

Summary:

So. Do you know those tags on this fic? the ones about horror and gore?

Yeah...

Consider this a reminder.

Simulation: Hour 3:43:27
Slender.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Izuku chanted as he booked it, the fourth page already fading away in flakes of white dust in his hand as static once more filled his ears, deafening him. He kept catching glances, bits and pieces from the corner of his vision, a pale face flickering in the moonlight of the trees.

 

Suddenly, he tripped.

 

A root was raised, just high enough to catch his ankle, and a flash of sharp hot pain shot through him as he crashed into the ground, the flashlight bouncing and skittering away.

 

He gasped in pain, his ankle feeling wrong.

 

He groaned and shifted, trying to stand, only to scream in pain and collapse, tears welling in his eyes as the fire in his nerves took his breath away, leaving him gasping and shuddering. Fighting to lift his torso up so he was leaning against a tree, he glanced at his ankle.

 

In the pale moonlight, he could see pale, glistening blood and white bone.

 

He screamed.

---

Now

Izuku was… not fond of cars.

 

At all.

Trains were better. The rhythm, the control. They were on a rail, the path clear by default, and usually had a simple, if unorthodox, exit.

 

Cars were loud, chaotic, and driven by people who seemed perfectly ignorant of how bad they drove. And getting out was far more of a hassle, ‘cause there were other cars to deal with.

 

Hiking his jackets lapels higher, he breathed through the faux fur of the collar and shook his head.

 

A hand in his pocket traced the familiar shape of his phone, tapping the subtle buttons on the side, and the music in his ears loudened. He had been working his way through years of music, going backwards in genre and release dates during his time in the simulation, and taking deep joy in finding his prefered tunes. Deep guitar and drums. Things with passion, with rage, with defiance...  Things he could relate to. From early millenium punk rock, through the neo-pop-punk of the early 2100’s to the revival of classic death and hair metal that ran through America and parts of Japan just a few decades ago.

 

The music was also probably one of the only reasons he passed his English comprehension exam to get in UA, since he didn’t get much help with talking in the simulation. All the other NPC and mobs spoke Japanese, despite the locations of several of the games.

 

Sighing softly, not that it was audible or visible behind the high collar of his cloak and the unmoving set of his shoulders as he leaned in the corner of the traincar, he let the music flow through him.

 

“I'm gonna fight 'em all. A seven nation army couldn't hold me back,”

He let his eyes flutter half closed. Trying to block out just how painfully aware of the world he still was.

 

“ They're gonna rip it off. Taking their time right behind my back,”

 

There, three rows behind him, the girl with vines for hair was biting her lip, and he could hear the faint hiss of a muttered prayer as she scowled at her phone. She had a haptic feedback option on, the faint beep and hum of her button presses audible. It was harder to not instantly process what she was typing. That would be rude.

 

“ And I'm talking to myself at night, because I can't forget,”

 

The three businessmen standing near the doors are talking finances. They work together, and are friends… but one of them is nervous. A tick of tapping his fingers on his suitcase latch.

Cheating? Flustered? Izuku shoved the thoughts away before they could confirm themselves, breathing deep as he tried to focus on the music.

“Back and forth through my mind, behind a cigarette,”

Izuku’s eyes met with that of the blonde teen sitting sprawled out on the far side of the car. The black streaks in the shape of a lighting bolt were a give away, as was the faint feel of static electricity on the air. Natural, complementary mutation related to quirk. Electric user… recognizes me.

 

“And the message coming from my eyes,”

 

The door rings, this stop is one too soon, but he can walk and he was early anyway.

 

He’s out the door in three seconds flat, the faint sound of the teen scrambling slightly behind him.

 

By the time the other teen reaches the door and looks out, the green haired survivor was long gone.

 

“Says leave it alone.”

---

 

Simulation: Hour 3:50:27
Slender.
Run 1.

 

Izuku screamed again as he tried to reach down and push his bone back into place, eyes flashing white and black from the pain surging through him.

 

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t hear his screams.

 

All he could hear was static, as the featureless pale face leaned over him, see the sharp black suit underneath, the unrealistically tall proportions.

 

And then suddenly the face wasn’t a smooth white plane.

 

Its pale skin, once marble smooth, began to writhe and distend, long rigid shapes pushing and twisting before its white facade began to rip and tear, carving pitch black and bright bloody red lines. Long lines stretching like loose stitching, revealing teeth and eyes and TEETH

 

Pain.

 

SO MUch PAin

 

Ripping

 

Teeth in flesh, in the throat even as thick and ice cold tendrils circles limbs and began to pull… Bone cracking with fireworks and explosions of pain that wiped away thought and action and left only the static fire of agony.

 

And then the world faded away, and he knew nothing mor–

 

Run Terminated by User Death,

Resetting avatar to safe room.

 

Death Count:

1

 

Izuku woke up screaming.

---

 

Now

 

The gates of UA stood open and, fingering the thin white and blue card in his pocket, Izuku crossed it, his senses slowly shifting and pinging off his surroundings. It’s quieter than the street behind him, only a sparse half dozen people in his range of awareness. Most of them are students, sitting and conversing in shade of the trees or lounging in the courtyard of the building.

 

Walking up to the gleaming gateway of UA, he reaches down and lowers the volume of his earbuds once more, running fingers through his bangs as he slouches, minimizing his profile as he paces up the steps of the front door of UA.

 

A glance at a nearby evacuation map as he passes the corner all but burns the layout of the building into his mind,and instead of talking to the secretary at the front desk, he turns and follows his deep seated understanding, the faint draw to an objective he knew so well.

 

‘Nedzu: the headmaster. Office should be near the teacher’s lounge, upper floor. Best angle over the outer wall…’

 

It’s a matter of minutes for him to follow the draw. A sign pointing to the teachers lounge, an elevator with a card scanner and a “teachers only” sign. The mental map of where the high ground is.

 

He steps out on the top floor of the wing and walks towards the front of the building, eyes catching on the dark hair and red glasses of someone walking his way, her face mostly hidden behind a stack of papers but the costume distinctive all the same..

 

‘ Midnight. 18+ heroine. AOE knockout. Distance is key. Gas is skin-originated. Abuse pres– NO. Hero. Not enemy. Relax. Focus past her.’

 

Izuku focused past her and down the hall, watching as the tension left and the world seemed to click back into motion as he finished his assessment.

 

He made it past her and blinked at the faint smell… sweet, almost like candy or sugar, but not the acrid burnt sugar smell of nitroglycerine that comes from Bakugou. The residue of the gas maybe? Something to consider.

 

He finally came to a stop at the door he was looking for. The ‘Principal Nedzu’ name plate confirming his intuition, and giving impetus to a twitched lip. Something that might be a smirk, if it was exaggerated a bit more.

 

Letting the emotion fade back under his shell, he reached up and knocked.

Nedzu sipped at his tea as he watched the green haired teen navigate the building, seemingly on instinct and vague guesses. The alert he had programmed to let him know when the young and recognizable form of Midoriya Izuku passed the gate with his ID card had gone off, the camera's focusing on the green haired teen walking to the building with a calm and even gait.

 

More interesting, was how the teen acted inside the building. Beyond a quick glance, the teen didn’t even bother with the secretary, opting to wander himself. Signs of a lack of trust in authority, perhaps?

 

The only time that Midoriya-san’s relaxed state was broken was in the hallway outside Nedzu’s office. When he passed by Midnight, Nedzu had watched in interest as muscles had tensed, and empty eyes locked on the overburdened hero, the lines of his back and shoulders shifting to show readiness, before slowly unclenching as they passed.

 

“Interesting. Something in you recognized the danger of Midnight in a fight, even if you weren’t planning to fight her. An instinctive response to strength and skill? Was it something about her that set it off? How curious,” Nedzu remarked even as he began to tidy up, a new pot for tea being set on the heater as he closed out his surveillance app.

 

A knock rang out from the door.

“Come in, Mister Midoriya.”

 

The door swung open, and Midoriya walked in, one hand tucked into the jacket and the other hanging loosely at his side.

 

“Principal Nedzu?” he asked, though he softened his intonation of the question. They both knew who each other was.

 

Nedzu grinned.

---

 

Simulation: Hour 4:23:20
Death count: 1

Izuku shuddered once more, sitting half naked in the bright utilitarian shower, the water above him– “Fake, its all fake” –pouring down steaming hot, the heat pulsing through his skin – “Torn, ripped and shredded and oh god it hurt!”– as he shivered and clutched tightly at unmarred flesh.

Slender.

 

The word… so innocent, so uninteresting.

Now it felt like poison in his mind, on his tongue, curling around his limbs and lungs and up his spine. Pale fingers pressing tight and digging into his muscles with terrifying force.

 

It had felt so real.

 

As he sat there, the sound of a click made him look up, the sound striking a chord of memory, the echo of school announcements and the soft static of an intercom.

 

“Oh, poor number nine. Look at you! Look at that face, that FEAR! Oh you are wonderful… a perfect experiment.”

 

The chill deepened, but something in Izuku… shifted. Slightly. Barely coming into alignment.

“I can’t wait to see you break and forge into your perfect self.”

Loosely clenched hands began to tighten, nails digging into the flesh of his palms,   “–...break…?”

 

“But sadly, you can’t seem to wake up, to get moving… and while I would love to walk you through it's time for little boys to grow up! So here's your choice, you either resume your attempts at the simulation… or I stop sending you back to this nice little break area when you die.  You have two hours to decide~!”

Fear began to make him shake, the fear of death, an endless undying existence was never something he considered, but now it paralyzed him except for the shaking uncontrollably shivering that he felt.

 

“And of course… if all else fails, I always track down and test your mother.”

 

The shivering stopped cold.

A click, then silence. For one minute. Two. five. Ten. And then, slowly, the shape shifted.

A hand, knuckles pale and dripping red running out from shallow gouges across its palm, reached out from the waterlogged mass that was huddled still and silent. From under plastered dark green hair that shimmered like oil on water, two eyes gleamed out, filled not with anything as ethereal as hope, or joy.

 

No.

 

These eyes held, for the first time in his young life, hate.

True unfiltered hate.

 

Prove him wrong.

 

Silently, he rose from the shower, hands reaching up and peeling his soaked clothes off as he strode unsteadily towards the closet, grabbing a towel as he began to roughly scrub the water from his form.

Take everything he has ever made.

 

He had never realized how heavy hate could be. It wasn’t that clenched-tight fear that wrapped his bones. It wasn’t the deep chill of a death reversed that had clung to his lungs and pulse.

Take his dream.

 

No, this was a heavy, hot weight.

 

Take his mind.

It slid down his throat, taking his words with it.

His soul.

It settled in his gut, sinking into his stomach and heart with a deep heavy hum.

AND BURN IT TO THE GROUND.

 

A snarl, something animalistic, something goddamn primal exploded from his throat.

 

Hands shoved in the closet and searched through clothes as part of him burst into action. His mind, no longer paralyzed, looked at his options and discarded many out of hand. Too heavy, too loose, too easy to grap, not warm enough.

 

He pulled a long sleeved, thick black shirt with a green diamond pattern across the arms.

 

Black jeans, stretchy and thick to the touch.

A jacket, tan and heavy and with that smell of leather and oil.

 

Boots. solid soled and high topped. Bright red that seemed like a joke, like a goddamn concession to his style .

He shoved them on, damp hair pushed back from eyes to reveal a wild glint in them.

 

He slammed his fist on the door’s button, a sharp stomp and stride to the podium.

The screen barely came alive when he swore the word:

 

“SLENDER.”

 

And with that, he appeared in the forest, rage thumping in his chest.

 

He wanted Izuku to break?

Fuck. That.

 

As the first undercurrent of static began, Izuku was already running, boots thumping through the grass as the flashlight clicked on.

 

The world seemed etched in black and white, the thumping blood and his anger in his chest chasing the cold of the forest away.

He was going to find his way out of this simulation.

 

He was going to track down who put him here.

And then he was going to beat the asshole who threatened his mom to death with his bare hands.

Chapter 4: The Grind

Summary:

Closer and closer...

the Death count rises.

Now

Izuku nursed his cup of tea, letting the aroma calm him.

Across from him, Nedzu did the same.

They had spoken softly for a while now. Pleasantries and idle gossip. Part of him found comfort in this. It was soft, and quiet, and Nedzu was polite enough not to mention the fact he had cased the entire room four times, had frozen up twice when bad memories had hit him, and had been fairly useless in providing any sort of current gossip.

However, as he now finished his fourth cup of tea, and Nedzu set his fifth aside, the tone began to change.

 

“So, as you are aware, Mister Midoriya, we have several topics to cover before you’re paperwork can be finalized?”

“I understand. I would have… concerns, as well.” Izuku looked down and felt his lips quirk in a smirk somewhere between sarcastic and resigned.

“First, I believe, is the topic of therapy. As part of the ongoing recovery process you are engaged in, Hound Dog will be taking over for your therapy sessions. Considering that you’ve gone through four other therapists in a very short month of meetings, that's been far easier than we expected. The paperwork was finalized yesterday, and both of you will have scheduled meetings twice a week.”

 

“That's more than acceptable.”

“Please, don’t break Hound Dog.”

“I will… endeavor not to.”

 

Nedzu gave a gimlet start with a spark of humor at the cagey response, but let it drop.

“Second. You need to outfit yourself with non-lethal options. As well as speak with a support agent. Power Loader has thankfully volunteered, and will be available after our meeting. As per the court agreement about lethal force in the hands of heroes, and heros and training oh… 74 years ago, you need to have a nonlethal variant of any weaponry you use with any regularity. From guns to swords to explosives. We have a few designs prepped for your inspection, and if I remember, you had a request for something special?”

“Yeah. A tool from the games. I figure I have enough know-how to get it working, even if only barely.”

“Wonderful. And I suppose you’ll also want an input on your weapons’ final designs.”

Izuku merely nodded, eyes drifting to the sun sigil of the blade bag resting against the wall.

“There’s a few memories I would rather not tarnish.”

He didn’t look at Nedzu, letting the principal make his own judgment without his input.

“Of course.”

From there it was merely minutia. A clarification on a few relevant rules, a bit of a modification to a few time periods, and a note in his files that he was currently suffering from several traumas and a list of responses for if he was… particularly unstable.

“Ah, and with that I do believe our agreement is finalized. If you do have issues or requests, my door is often open. Though, I would prefer you check with the secretary next time,” Nedzu called out once more as Izuku stood and headed for the door, slinging his blade back across his shoulders.

“Your secretary needs better sightlines if you want that to happen,” Izuku mused, a sardonic twitch of the shoulders all but shouting his amusement to the headmaster.

As the door closed, the two parted.

 

---

 

Simulation: Day 6 Hour 7:23:20
Death count: 43

“FUCCCCKKKKK YOUUUUUU!!!!”

Izuku flipped off the flickering form of Slender as he dove from the roof, the reaching white hands recoiling in what looked like anger and frustration as Izuku grunted and rolled off a window awning and slammed onto a car roof, hand triumphantly holding one of the more annoying pages, the white paper flaking away as his counter ticked up from 89 to 90.

A week.

A week of running and exploring and grabbing those goddamn papers. His initial rage had long since cooled and banked under the sheer frustration and exhaustion he felt. Beyond that, he still felt… cold, and sore from his simulated deaths. Each one had been immensely painful, the feeling of torn flesh and burrowing tendrils echoing when he tried to relax. His kind demeanor and his smile had been ripped away due to the effort it took to maintain. Pain and anger, and his hate was now focused and loud, augmented by years of insults learned from bullies and his childhood friend, and expressed on the most immediate target.

 

That pale motherfucker.

The forest he had first appeared and died in, was only part of what had to be a five-kilometer to a side square, surrounded by a sheer five-meter tall smooth wall. In this was a forest, a place that looked like a small rural town, and a series of complexes and industrial locations that appeared almost copy-pasted.

But the papers were what really pissed him off.

 

He had learned quickly that while there were set locations for the papers to spawn, there were far more locations than there were papers, and placement was randomized. Beyond that, some of the pages were placed in… some annoying locations.  Ledges outside windows, stuck on top of flagpoles, pinned inside cars, hanging from roof awnings.

 

Izuku had to learn, quickly, how to take a fall and get the highest and farthest leaps he could, often ending runs with broken legs and shattered arms as Slender closed in.

 

His neck still ached some days from the memory of falling off a roof head first and not surviving.

As he rolled off the car, biting back a groan as he felt his back begin to bruise from the impact, he took off running.

‘90 pages. Already cleared the south half of the forest, the farmstead, and the city. That leaves the industrial complex. 10 more pages. Just 10 more!’

Boots on concrete echoed as he ran down the center of the street, arms pumping as he kept low. A hiss of static from his right and he dodged, long white arms swinging from around the corner of a truck, Izuku’s eyes meeting the blank face as a white fingertip caught his shoulder, leaving deep bloody gashes in his arm.

Hissing through his teeth, Izuku twisted out of reach, eyes darting back ahead of him as he lowered his torso and dug deep, sprinting down the street.

The static once more filled his ears, and he bit back a curse as the flickering form of Slender shifted ahead of him.

“Oh fuck you.”

 

Running forwards, Izuku dodged once more, dancing past, before diving into the forest. Hearing the beginning of a scream that seemed composed of overwrapping static sounds.

 

‘Ten pages. Just ten more.’

 

---

Now

Izuku stepped down the fairly barren hall of the support wing of the building, feeling that slow tension build in his bones. There wasn’t a threat, he knew that. But the signs on the walls that talked about safety rules and regulations...  as his eyes roved over them, he could feel the memories creep back in. There had been a few places where warnings like these were next to dangerous things. And for a moment he could hear the monstrous screams echoing down metal hallways…. And then he shook his head, dispersing the memory.

 

Eventually, his footsteps took him to the door he was looking for: “Power Loader” was written in large letters across the door plaque. He knocked, some part of him tensing, waiting for a response.

“Door’s open, come on in,” came a muffled yell from behind the door, and Izuku complied, pushing through the doorway. The clean empty designs of the hall vanished as he stepped into a classroom of desks, the far wall replaced by a rolling garage door that was opened into what must have been the support labs. At the desk across the classroom area, a shorter man dressed in a blue and white mechanic’s jumpsuit stood with a tablet in hand. His face was exposed, but his eyes were hidden by the loose curtain of bright orange hair that hung almost to his shoulders. Eyes darting, Izuku glanced at his hands, spotting the bright iron gleam of his fingertips.

 

"I was told you were expecting me?"

Power Loader shifted, a pale blue eye glancing up through his bangs as he took in Izuku. "Ah, yes. Nedzu mentioned you needed some gear. He said you had a few ideas? Oh, and ignore the mess. One of our new students has gotten a head start on using the facilities." Power Loader led the way through the garage door into the crowded workshop, past piles of half-assembled pieces of gear and robot components. In the corner, a half disassembled arm that looked awfully like that of the 0-pointer hung from the roof.

"Looks busy," Izuku commented, eyes clocking corners and checking angles even as he wandered behind the teacher, hands tensing and flexing in his jacket pockets.

"Ah, yeah. The start of year resupply and fix up. New materials, tools, and general supplies come in and I spend several weeks running the new kids through basic doctrine on the remains of the entrance exam robots. Saves me time and the school money." As they turned a corner around a 10-foot tall stack of sheet metal, the still mostly clean back end of the shop came into view. Sparks flew from behind a divider to the side, but Izuku focused on the large slowly spinning holographic blueprints of a 0-pointer floating in the center of the space.

Realizing he should say… something, he spoke up. "Cool."

"Indeed it is. Now, you have files for me to use as a base?"

Nodding Izuku reached up and held out a thumb drive.

"Wonderful. Now, let's see about getting you that equalizer you asked for."

The thumb drive was plugged in, and the 0-pointer design vanished. A few taps on the tablet and a list of files appeared.

 

Each was opened, 3D models of every weapon appearing in the air. Each one was specific dimensions and weights, all modified and adjusted. The digital models of things that he had recovered from the computers he was trapped in.

Izuku’s eyes glanced over, past the three guns designs floating next to him and the teacher, and beyond the half designed suit of armor pieces he had been pulling together from a set of files over the last month.

 

Instead, he focused on the last two weapons, specifically the smaller one, one which was far more detailed than the simple blade across his back.

Floating, it looked simple, but he could see the details. Embossed symbols and carefully wrapped leather. A worn blade, but solid. Durable.

On the pommel, the sun emblem gleamed. Just looking at it he could almost hear the shout...

“Jolly Cooperation!”

“Well now. The guns are easy enough. I can print and fabricate the parts here, though I’ll need to register them and you. Snipe owes me a favor for that. As for the armor… it needs some work. I’m betting it goes with your hero suit?”

 

“Yeah.”

“And the last two… hmm... I know of a guy who can get that sword worked out, but it’ll take some time. That half-assed hunk of junk you got gonna last that long?”

Izuku grimaced, remembering how he had literally ground it out of a bar of steel and that the edge was already chipping. “It’s poor quality, but it’ll last for a few weeks if I don’t stress it.”

Nodding, the hero leaned in at the last item. More specifically the digital notes attached that floated near it. “Sheesh. That's one hell of design modification. Gonna take me some time to get that worked ou–”

“I can do that!”

 

The hero jumped, while Izuku’s eyes merely shifted and rested on the girl he had felt coming up next to him. Bright cross-haired gold eyes and braided pink hair focused on the holograms, before darting his way with tangible excitement. “I can help set most of this up, I know how!”

“Dammit girl, make some noise. And you’re not in class yet.” Power Loader turned on the girl as he recovered from the surprise.

 

“But I can help, while you finish the class schedule, the roster placement, and the 32 orders you need to supervise! I can handle the armor and the modified weapon!”

Power Loader folded his arms, blue eyes glaring at gold from underneath his auburn hair, before flicking to Izuku. “...Up to you kid. You’re the client. You get a say here.”

The girl rounded, blinking as gold met green. A long moment of silence, Izuku gazing at her and keeping a blank face, while she slowly began to fidget under his cool gaze.

Finally, he swung his hand from his pocket, holding it out.

“Midoriya Izuku. And you?”

 

She jumped and blinked before smacking her hand into his and shaking excitedly.

“Hatsume Mei!”

 

“Well. Nice to meet my new support tech. I trust you to keep up.” he grinned, as the girls eyes flashed with an inner fire.

 

She would do just fine.

 

---

 

Simulation: Day 6 Hour 8:02:11
Death count: 43

Izuku’s breath was a death rattle, blood dripping from behind his teeth as he staggered one more step.

He could see it. Across the from him, on a car door where it was parked in the middle of the dirt road that crossed the clearing.

 

Page 100

 

He wasn’t going to make it.

 

He glanced back, wincing as the sheer act made him dizzy, eyes latching on the dark stains that lingered amidst the grass and across trees.

‘ Blood loss and exhaustion.’

 

He had been so close.

 

But then Slender stopped hunting him, stopped following and waiting for him, and started playing with him.

 

He could feel the burn of the claw marks that stretched across his back and around his sides, feel the warm rivers of blood that cooled and glued cloth to skin.

 

He staggered, and collapsed, trying to brace himself before he hit the ground, but with only his left arm still attached, and his right arm reduced to a bloody stump, he wasn't able to stop himself. He hit the ground with a choked off scream and a spray of blood from his mouth.

‘Something broke when I hit that tree. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Lungs?’

 

The static was still there, on the edge of his perception, but instead of the incomprehensible drone it once was… now it rose and fell sharply.

Slender was laughing.

 

The white hand appeared, skin writhing as it reached down and almost gently caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes, trying to force back the well of hopelessness and rage that burned in him, mixing with the haze of pain and blood loss.

 

And then he choked, the hand tight around his throat as he was yanked up, breathing stopped as his throat struggled against the cool stone-like grip.

 

His eyes shot open, just in time to see the pale face writhe and begin to split.

Teeth. Millions of small writhing teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Death Count: 44

Chapter 5: Tutorial

Summary:

Ingenuity and Endurance can meet any quirk.

Tenya glanced around, taking in the early morning as he paced himself towards the still quite astonishing shape of UA, feeling his chest tighten in pride and excitement at the fact he was on his way to making his brother proud of him. With pride and vigor, he pushed through the gate, and the front doors. With confident steps, he passed through the halls, having already memorized the UA floor plan to find his class.

Class 1-A.

He took in the gleaming tile of the halls, the bold and clean walls and structures and smiled.

And then he reached his classroom, and paused.

The door was cracked open, but the room beyond had the lights off, only the faint gleam of the morning sun lighting the room from within. Blinking, he marched up and glanced through, leaning past the threshold in curiosity.

The light-on-dark contrast of the room cast details in shadow, but he could see that on the windowsill, the glass panels shoved open to let in the morning light and air, a young teen sat.

For a moment, Tenya took in the familiar clean-cut shape of the UA male uniform, and a hair of loose lanky green curls that hung down past the teens eyes, gleaming in the sunlight. His uniform was clean and well pressed, though with a red bowtie instead of a necktie. Beyond that, what caught his eye was the blade at his side, clasped to a utility belt stretched over his costume. For a split second, his mind ran through the rules, and, even as he was recognizing the teen, he was moving arms up and gesturing as he eyed the teen in the window.

His quirk speeding him up, he passed through the classroom in less than a second, shouting loudly as he approached.

“YOU! Swords are not allowed in a classroom setting-”

He froze, breath caught and a cold sweat on his brow.

The ground and sharpened point of the blade was resting just below his adam's apple.

Green eyes, suddenly dark and cold with the sunlight behind them to contrast, focused on Iida’s red eyes. There was a glimmer of surprise, hidden among grim amusement and annoyance. “Don’t… shout. The sword… is an exemption. Part of my condition to attend. Same with a... variety of other gear.” The blade, which Iida could now see had a thin metal attachment to blunt the edge pulled away even as Iida swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He had seen the teen startle, but he barely caught the path of the blade as it was drawn back and then slammed forwards, up and under his guard, and around his half-raised arms.

If it hadn’t stopped, it would have killed him.

“I… apologize for my sudden assault and my volume.” With the distance shortened, he could make out the teen’s features, the pale skin and smattering of thick freckles across his cheeks clear as day. With the addition of that soft and ragged voice, Iida now recognized him as the boy from the entrance exam.

‘So he made it in here too…’

“...Don’t charge me again and we’ll be just fine.” A flicker of motion, the faint sound of leather on steel, and the blade was sheathed once more.

Crossing his arms loosely, the teen returned to staring out the window, and Iida could make out the front gate from where the teen sat.

‘Okay, let’s try this again.’

“My name is Iida Tenya. Pleased to make your acquaintance!” he held out his hand to shake, and the teen glanced back, face half-shadowed in the lack of sun.

A quick grasp, wrist to wrist, and a muttered name was all his response, before the green haired teen looked away once more.

Iida paused, sighed, and turned back to find a seat.

‘Midoriya Izuku… what a strange guy.’

---

 

Bakugou growled as he marched through the door to 1-A. Gaze darting from person to person even as he beelined to a familiar place, the dead center of the classroom. Close enough to hear and be heard by anyone else. He had already clocked everyone in the class, judging them all to be worthless.

Tossing his bag under the seat, he crashed into it, focusing on the board and the door for the teacher and putting any thought of his classmates out of his mind.

Or that was the plan.

“Relax, Kacchan. We got five minutes until the teacher shows.”

The words were off-hand, the speaker barely talking and clearly not focused as Bakugou’s head tilted, catching sight of dark hair and a pen as a text book was slowly defaced behind him.

Glancing back, he tried to stop grinding his teeth at the sudden feeling of ‘Danger’ behind him.

Five minutes to the dot later, as the last of the class nervously filed in, the door opened to a tall, lean man with a black jumpsuit, with a yellow bundle of some sort in his hand which he tossed behind the teacher’s desk as he glanced around, eyebrow raised.

“Hmm… got quiet in five seconds. That's logical. Saves me time.” He pulled a box out of his desk. “Here. UA gym uniforms. Gym’s on the first floor, follow me and change into them. We’re testing you all before lunch.” “Uh, Sir?” a boy with sharp teeth and red spikey hair raised his hand. “What about orientation and the opening ceremony?”

“I don’t care for them. Pro Heroes don’t have time for pageantry like that. And students who want to be pro have even less. Get a move on.”

The class paused, but even as Bakugou scrambled to his feet, Deku had already darted past, feet silent on the tile in red high-tops and his sword tucked and held close to avoid contact.

By the time Katsuki was up, had his gym clothes, and had taken off after the teacher, Izuku was shadowing the taller man with a silent grace.

Ten minutes later, he was still trying to adjust to the loose jumpsuit, and glancing around the field he and the rest of the class was standing in.

“Welcome, to your quirk assessment tests.”

---

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 13:41:00 Death count: 59

Izuku crouched, landing as he began the simulation once more. He had barely touched down, when his boots dug into the soft topsoil, and he shoved off.

His flashlight was turned off and tossed in his pocket, never even turned on, his eyes already adjusting to the dark of the forest as he took a split second to orient himself in the map.

“South… west. Not bad, could be better. Clear the forest first.” His muttering was soft, barely perceptible in the dark forest. He caught the faintest echo of the sound of static, but he was already heading the way he needed to. In seconds, he saw the first page, pinned to a large tree in the middle of a clearing. He passed it and ripped it free without stopping, letting it float and dissolve in the clearing, even as he exited it on his way to his next stop.

“1.”

The static picked up, ever so slightly.

Izuku ignored it.

He had pages to find.

---

Now.

Uraraka glanced over at the teen who had helped her in the entrance exam. The softball in his hand. Bakugou’s massive explosion, that girl, (Yao- something?) had flat out fired it from a canon, and Ochako herself had floated it into space.

She watched as the teen grabbed the ball in his off hand, tossing it gently as he drew his sword in his right.

A toss to gauge the weight, another to get the feel of it, and on the third he tossed it far straight up, and as it fell he twisted, the blade coming around in two hands, the flat of the metal impacting the ball with a loud crack as it took off into the distance.

“153 meters. Next.”

She blinked. The teacher wasn’t gonna comment on Izuku’s gear? Or his lack of quirk? Regardless, she shot a smile his way at the fact he was fairly middle of the pack in distance of the ball.

---

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 14:11:03 Death count: 59

“14.” The count was to keep track, to keep focused.

“15,” to distract from pain. To ignore fear.

A burst of static, a reaching claw, and a duck.

The static screeches behind him.

His hands rip through white paper once more.

“16.”

---

Now

Kirishima growled to himself, arms pumping up and down as he pushed himself to the limit. Hardening didn’t help with this. If it was planks it would be great but hardened muscles wouldn’t make his actions smoother, wouldn’t help him keep his arms pumping and blood flowing past the burn.

Across from him, his partner for this test was doing the same, green hair tied loosely back in a knot above his scalp with a stray bit of leather cord, his sword just above his fingertips as the teen moved up and down in a smooth consistent arc. No wasted motion, no uneven breathing, no hesitation. Kirishima had been trying to match that pace, but even now, almost ten minutes into it, the two of them pushing up and down, he was more than a dozen counts behind, and falling more behind with every minute.

“Ten minutes are up. Counts?”

“312, Sir.” Kirishima bit out as he pushed himself to his feet, looking up to help…. Only for the other teen to already be up and with his sword buckled at his side.

“354.”

‘The fuck? Forty-two more than me? So manly.’

“Good. Next!”

---

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 14:56:11 Death count: 59

Duck past the open window, so Slender can’t reach out and grab him.

Leap off the car hood, roof, and that awning to snag the one on the flagpole.

“34.”

Use the flagpole to reach the roof and leap to the next building, snagging that one before Slender can reset to gra- duck and roll, dropping to the lower part of the roof.

Those fingers brushed past his hair, he could feel it. Ignore it though. Grab the next paper to clear the factory grounds.

“35.”

---

Now

Shoji grinned behind his face mask, the 540kg was the highest score so far, and as he watched the green haired teen step up, he expected to see maybe a 50.

Then a bracelet of paracord was undone, and several sharp twists later, the green haired teen was pulling with his full body movement to tighten a noose around the sensor grips, Shouji had to admit, the ingenuity was great and the effectiveness was not to be doubted, considering the display read a score of 156kg.

But seriously. What was this kid’s quirk? He hadn’t seen it yet, and he had been paying attention to everyone this entire time. The eyes on his shoulders weren’t for show, after all.

---

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 15:35:12 Death count: 59

“Fuck.”

Izuku gazed at the next, and last, page in the city part of the map.

A dead end alley.

With a concrete back wall.

He glanced around and noted that Slender had vanished, but the sound of static was rising louder and louder.

“No choice. Fuck.”

He booked it down the alley, the sound of static beginning the goddamn laughter.

Again.

Izuku reached the paper and tore it off, but did not stop moving.

The wall was 12 feet tall, made of smooth brickwork with clean, smooth corners. But as he lept, his boots caught on the surface, for just a second. Just long enough for his leg to kick off, for his body to rise, for that haunting laughter to change to a shriek of static rage as he grasped the top edge and with all his might, dragged himself up. The form of Slender appeared at the end of the alley, where he had apparently decided to trap and torment Izuku.

“90, you motherfucker.”

‘And I know where the last 10 are already.’

He leapt across the rooftops as the static screech began to deafen him, ringing in his ears.

‘There's only one place left to go.’

He stared off into the forest, the faint lights of the trainyard of shipping containers bright and clear in the distance.

---

Now

Aizawa glanced at his clipboard as the second-to-last exercise, the long jump, came to a close.

“12 laps, 5km endurance run. Go.”

With various groans of discontent, the mass of students lined up, and on his whistle took off.

Some took the lead immediately. Bakugou Katsuki with a blast of force, Iida Tenya with a whir of engines and exhaust, and Yaoyorozu Momo on a solar bike she formed quickly. With Todoroki Shouto keeping pace on a path of ice as he skated along.

But between the rest of them and the fastest, one could be seen pulling ahead of the pack of the slowest. Keeping pace and pulling ahead of the large leaps of Asui Tsuyu and the sliding acid trail of Mina Ashido.

Green hair. Sword strapped to his back for ease of motion, and footsteps at an easy and consistent pace. If he focused on the teen’s emotionless expression and reserved body language, it almost looked like he was going for a morning jog, if not for the sheer speed and power used in each step. Despite the slender stature of its taker, he covered ground with sharp movements, kicking off and sending himself forwards with an aggressive and almost unbelievable pace.

By the time the first of the teens passed the 5km mark, Iida having lapped the slowest of the teens almost twice, and as the rest of them lagged behind with exhaustion, Izuku had caught up and passed Bakugou and was passing Todoroki, much to the dismay of both.

Marking down the time, Aizawa began to calculate the places and averages for everyone, and blinked as the fourth name belonged to Midoriya Izuku.

‘Not bad kid.’

---

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 16:00:01 Death count: 59

Blood splattered the ground, the pain pushed aside and ignored as Izuku rolled to his feet, eyeing the last of the pages. The 99th page, splattered with blood from a gash across Izuku’s shoulder, faded away.

The static was ever present, constant, and Angry.

“There you are.” The white form of Slender, already twitching and shifting, stood tall in between him and the last page. They were both in the dead center of the trainyard, blocked in on two sides by towering walls of shipping containers, and the concrete wall of the storage yard on the far side.

In the center of the area, the page hung pinned to a forklifts side.

Reaching up, Izuku kept eye contact with Slender, even as he grabbed the torn sides of his black shirt and ripped it open, his jacket having been sacrificed minutes ago to give him an escape. His torso was lacerated, long red lines across his chest, back, and arms. Close calls and last minute dodges of the last half hour leaving clear marks.

Holding the bundled shirt in his hands, he ripped a sleeve off and folded it up, placing it in his mouth and holding the rest in his grasp. He shifted his feet back and set his stance, crouching low like a sprinter.

Slender opened his arms, as if inviting him to try, the skin shifting with ridged membranes that writhed and squirmed under the pale white masquerade of flesh.

The static reached a feverish pitch.

And Izuku moved.

10 meters between him and victory.

Each step echoed off the metal walls, each breath, muffled as it was by cloth, was sharp, and as Slender flickered, moving to intercept, Izuku pivoted and lept at the wall.

Slender reappeared mid-swing, arm cutting past him, as he gritted his teeth and twisted, throwing his arm out to meet the attack.

A splatter of blood.

A supernova of pain that made him almost black out, biting into and almost through his cloth gag.

A rising laughter in the static...

And then Izuku was there.

He didn’t even wait to fumble and grab at the paper, instead he threw his fist forwards, punching through the entire glass and the page itself with his left arm, while his right shoulder pumped red blood to the ground around him, ragged muscle and a splintered section of bone gleaming in the moonlight..

Behind him, Slender went from amused… to furious.

And then the static stopped.

Izuku glanced back to see the white humanoid form shift and twitch, limbs bending and twitching as it staggered, then collapsed. His right arm still held triumphantly in its grasp. Coughing, he spit the gag out, even as he turned to lean against the forklift with heavy breathing.

Lifting the bundled shirt that had protected him from the window, he shook it, shards of glass dancing to the ground as he unwound it and pressed it to his stump.

“SIMULATION ONE: COMPLETE. FINAL TIME: 12:16:05:00”

Staggering over, Izuku glanced around as the simulation began to dissolve around him. He glanced down at the still convulsing pile of white flesh and sighed.

“Go fuck yourself.”

He turned away and looked to see the simulation fade.

And just before he felt the familiar rush of an ending simulation, but without the same blinding pain and muffled thoughts, a notification appeared.

‘Slender complete. Notebook function unlocked.’

And then he blinked, finding himself once more uninjured, laying on the simulation podium in the room.

For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling as the glass visor receded into the podium.

“I did it.”

And then he began to laugh.

“I beat Slender!”

---

Now

Izuku stretched as he slid his gear into the locker, pulling his school uniform back out and sliding it on as the faint murmur of the rest of the locker room echoed.

“Man, I can’t believe that whole expulsion thing was a ruse, I thought for sure you were out of there, Mineta!” That was the electric haired blonde, who apparently hadn’t paid enough attention to recognize Izuku’s name yet.

“I know! God, that was terrifying.” The shorter teen with the strange hair was shivering.

Izuku almost wanted to scoff, but held it in. Terrifying? That test was easy. He reached in and grabbed his sheathed sword from next to him hooking the buckle on his belt with a smooth click.

Sighing at the weight of his hair, still damp from a shower, he pulled it all back into a small knot at the base of his skull, leaving a few curly ragged bangs unbound.

Swinging the locker closed with a smooth click, he pulled the bowtie around his neck and began to tie it. He was about to leave when he caught the eye of the dichromatic teen who had ranked just above him in the exercise.

Izuku narrowed his eyes at the impassive glare of the other teen, before with a sharp tug he finished the bowtie. Walking past him towards the exit of the showers, he paused, hands in his pocket and shoulder to shoulder with Todoroki.

“Problem?” The question was soft and sharp.

“...No.” The reply was coolly reserved, and Todoroki proceeded to glance away.

With that, Izuku kept walking, and as he pushed out into the hall beyond the changing rooms, he reached up and popped his neck.

‘I wonder what your problem is… Todoroki. And why you decided to lie to my face about it.’

A tap of his fingers on the leather-wrapped hilt, and Izuku shook his head. He could hear the last of the boys finishing up and they would be right behind him. With smooth steps, he headed back to the classroom, eyes half-lidded in thought.

Perhaps… there were threats here as well.. Just far more subtle.

Chapter 6: Moshi Moshi?

Summary:

Teammates are chosen, and a new game begins

Ochako was excited, glancing around the class as the second day of the term rolled on. Already, several people had started to wander and gather in groups as the class relaxed in between periods. She glanced around and saw Izuku had taken what she now recognized as a comforting perch on the back window sill of the room. His arms crossed and gaze locked out the window with earbuds in. Recognizing that he didn’t want to be social she wandered closer to the group of girls nearby, just in time to catch an argument between Jiro and Ashido.

“-and I’m telling you, Deep Dope out-sold and out-performed the KKN last year, they are, imperically, the better band.”

“No, the just have the bigger marketing team! Besides, they’ve been around longer, that doesn’t mean they are better!”

Sidling up to the other girls watching, Ochako nudged the shorter girl with green hair. “They been talking about this long?”

“Just a few minutes.” The raspy voice came out soft, before she blinked and held out her hand. “Oh, I'm Asui, you can call me Tsuyu.”

“Oh, then call me Ochako!”

The two glanced back as Jiro and Ashido got more and more excited and loud in their argument, both grinning at the emotional pink girl and the sarcastic punk rocker hashing it out.

Tsuyu glanced past Ochako and blinked. Behind her at the windowsill, she caught the eyes of the strange boy who had been catching her instincts all day. The green haired teen with the sharp eyes met her gaze evenly, hands crossed where he rested half bathed in the early morning sunshine of the window. She felt herself tense up, feeling like she was facing a predator, much like she felt when her middle school friend, Habuko, would use her quirk when stalking her. For a moment, she flashbacked to the first time the mongoose mutation girl had stalked her, and that almost instinctive surge of terror and fear.

For a second, Midoriya looked scarier than Habuko ever had. Than, with a blink he shifted and looked away out the window, dismissing her from his focus. His eyes stared out at the sunlit grounds of UA, focus lost to the distance. The shift was disconcerting but she quickly realized that the mood of the teen had changed with his focus.

Like this, looking at it from the side, without the piercing gaze and lit by warm sunlight, he looked… softer. The edge of intent she had felt against her skin was still there, but seemed sheathed like the blade at his side. Something wistful about his expression as he let the sun cast his features in contrast.

She was broken from her quiet inspection as the door opened, bright blonde hair and leather outfit making its way through as Present Mic came in to start their English class.

Then

Inko sat in the office of the local police department, hands tensed in her sweater hem as she fought back the tears that kept leaking from her eyes.

10 days…

The Detective and a hero, she didn't recognize him, but the suit was accented with a somewhat digital design, walked in. The detective, a plain looking man in a tan suit and deep bags under his eyes, she thought his name was Naosara? Naomata? Something like that, she hadn't quite caught it.

“Miss Midoriya, this is my associate, the Digital Hero Codex. We… We think we found your son.”

Inko froze, eyes welling up with tears as she focused intently on the hero.

“Please… Where is my son… Where is my baby boy?!”

Now

“I… AM COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

Izuku’s eyes tracked the motion of All Might, tracing his path and stature as he came to a halt in front of the whiteboard, dozens of subtle observations surfacing and glimmering in Izuku’s thoughts as he took in the man's posture, speed, stance, and focus. He idly noted the more retro Silver Age outfit, just as a blonde teen, (‘Kaminari, electric quirk, knows my story’) shouted about it. Pushing the thoughts away for now, Izuku shifted so he was slightly more ready to move. After Aizawa’s surprises and mindgames the day before, he was currently considering any class as a possible reaction test until further notice.

“Welcome to the most important class at UA High!” All Might stode across the floor, arms wide in obviously well-practiced showmanship. “This is, at its core, Hero-ing 101!” Students nodded and tensed in excitement as he spoke. “Here you will learn the basics of being a pro, and what it means to fight in the name of good!” An echoing clap of his hands and a slightly crouched posture that spoke of power was literally dragging Izuku’s attention his way.

‘Powerful. Dangerous. Committed… We-’

He slowed his heart beat and gave a slow, languid blink as he repressed the instincts bubbling up from the darker half of his soul and mind. All Might seemed not to notice as he turned back, arms swinging down before with a thrust of his hand- “LET’S GET INTO IT, SHALL WE! WE’LL KICK THINGS OFF…” he opened his large fist to reveal a gleaming white note card reading ‘Battle’ “-WITH SOME COMBAT TESTING!”

Shouts of enthusiasm and surprise echoed the words, but Izuku was easily able to drown them out.

For a moment, the class was gone, the students nothing but illusionary framework.

Where All Might stood tall, was a gleam of sun-off steel instead, with red feathers and a white tabard.

“Shall we engage in Jolly Cooperation?”

A blink, and the world snapped into place, Izuku carefully not even giving away that he had hallucinated such a vivid moment, a memory that he could place in a dozen times of his final trial.

Instead he listened as All Might continued on.

“-keys of being a hero is…” All Might pointed to the walls, where the compartments Izuku saw early this morning flipped open, revealing suitcases with numbers according to the class seats. “Looking good!” The costume boxes slid out of the wall, tilting to provide easy access. “These were designed for you based on your quirk registration forms and the request you sent in before school started! Go forth, and arm and dress yourselves to be the heroes you wish to be!”

Izuku waited a split second, letting the class begin to rush and fumble for their cases before with several quick and smooth motions he stepped up, and slid his out and past the short and scurrying form of the purple balled teen whose name he hadn’t caught yet.

“Get yourself suited up, and then meet me at Training Ground Beta!”

Hearing the instruction and breathing deep to steady himself, Izuku slid back through the crowd, already following the loud and attention grabbing form of the teacher as he directed them to the changing rooms from the day before.

Focusing to steady himself, to blink away the faint sight of bloodstains that lined the hall, which stood out against the plain white of UA. Izuku moved ahead of the pack. He needed to check his gear personally, before he used it.

He needed to center himself.

Then

Inko choked back sobs as she stared at the sealed off area around the facility. She wasn’t allowed in, but there were pictures, and a screen connected to the live stream. Part of her was still processing the absurdity of her new reality. Trying so hard to understand just how much her son was facing.

‘14 hours ago, we tracked down your son’s kidnapper… But theres a complication’

She stared at the screen, watching in fearful awe at the feral looking visage of her son as he ran through a forest, blood dripping from gashes across his cheek and a stream of curses that made her reflexively want to tell him to stop. But she couldn’t.

‘We tracked down Akihiko Sugoh, who use to work as a contractor for the I-Island Digital Immersion lab. He had been a valuable researcher, but it seems after being fired for unethical practices, he decided to prove his worth on his own. He’s currently in detainment… but we can’t undo what he’s started.”

Her son was in a computer. Trapped.

And it was being live streamed to the world. Every day more and more people signed in to the forsaken website, curiosity and morbid fascination letting hundred, thousands, tens of thousands, of sick people stare in curiosity at her son as he fought tooth and nail for freedom.

They couldn’t stop it. Any attempts set off warnings and risked threatening her sons very existence. And due to the quirk of the ‘researcher’ being a vital process, they couldn’t eject him from the computer.

Her son was trapped, and all she could do is wait, and hope.

‘Please… Izuku… My Baby… Please come back to me.’

Now

Todoroki shifted and twisted in his modified outfit, mainly checking that the artificial ice-like coating across his left side was firmly in place, and that his regulator was active and working. While it would take longer than using… his quirk, it would be far more palatable than his sperm donor’s powers.

Shoving the thought away, he checked to make sure the durable white and tand materials of his outfit fit and moved easily.

As he glanced back, however, he saw it.

One of the last members of the class to exit the tunnel, despite being one of the first into the changing room. Dark greens and steel greys and blacks blended against the tunnels faint lightings, only coming into details once he crossed the threshold.

A loose cloak that hung from his shoulders to just under his knees, black on the outside and deep green lining it, with a strip of silvery fur that lined the collar. Under it his neck was covered by a strange mechanical neck brace that looked almost like a steel collar of layered parts that formed and slid up under his jaw. Under the collar, a tight black shirt lined with ribbing of metal braces around his sides ran down his torso, a series of segmented black plates covering his stomach like a girdle up from his belt to cover almost to his sternum. A half skirt of long silken material that gleamed metallic in the sunlight hung from under the ever present sword belt to cover his left leg, falling over a simple pair of black combat pants and tucked into vibrant blood-red boots that rose halfway to his knees. Across his left arm, a thick curved bracer extended from his wrist to elbow, and rounded discs covered the rest of his arm to the shoulder from its aegis. The right arm was left loose and free, the sleeve cut short around his bicep. That was likely for offensive mobility, and the teen was currently adjusting the fit of the black fingerless gloves he wore to finish out the outfit.

‘Hmm...an asymmetrical design with defense and mobility in mind. I bet if something hit him from his left, it would be deflected or caught with ease… does he use a defense posture with his weapon-arm behind him?’’ Todoroki took a second to clock the sword hilt barely visible under the left arm’s shadow, and then blinked at the sight of a gunstock for some sort of rifle over his back, the rest of the weapon hidden under the loose collar of his cloak as it hung behind him.

‘Hmm… quirk improves efficacy of weapons perhaps? Reflex and coordination, maybe.’

Todoroki glanced away as the teen strode into the crowd.

‘You remind me of someone… but why?’

Then

Inko sat across from Mitsuki, her friends comments and assistance, sounding like so much noise as she sat and stared at the lukewarm coffee in her hands, the third day since she had found her sons fate.

Her phone ringed.

Blinking, she swallowed her dry throat and dragged her phone up from the table, Misuki cutting herself off in a mid story rant even as inko answered.

“Um, hello?”

“Miss Midoriya? We have a new development. Izuku cleared the first game.”

Inko froze, and her phone slipped as a convoluted rush of emotion tore through her. Her son did it. He’s advancing, fighting. He was coming home as fast as he could…

And she felt a rush of shame. Of fury and self centered anger and focus. Her son, her precious hero focused son, was crawling his way out of hell for her. And here she was? She had frozen, panicked, lost herself in nightmares and worry. And her son was coming. Her son was fighting monsters. Like that ‘Slender’ beast. She had watched, seen the injuries that had barely slowed her sons motions, that had sent him cursing and pushing every harder.

Shame gave way to steely determination. Like rusty steel rising from the water, bracing against the flooding emotions.

Blinking she picked her phone up.

“Tell me everything.”

Now

Koda Kouji was… a nervous young man. Conflict was not his goal - rescue and support of the people was. He had limited fighting experience despite his stature and secondary mutations increasing his strength and hardening his skin to a thick, leather-like appearance. His quirk was also far more suited to recon and rescue operations… heck, his entrance to this school was only possibly because his nature led him to help assist and distract robots for other students in the vague hope it would count somehow. The only robots he personally destroyed were all rogue one-pointers who had already been injured in previous clashes.

And now he was going into a far more direct and brutal fight. He shook with fear as he watched the ball with his name roll out of the spinner… and then the name Izuku Midoriya came soon after.

He was terrified. Every animal he had spoken to about the teen described the strange fact that he seemed to flicker and vanish from their senses with astounding ease. Something about him seemed to naturally refute the observations of the animals. Some innate sense or instinct triggered by them had sent several birds flying the moment he turned his gaze on them.

And yet, as the two of them were naturally shuffled side by side, Koda felt far less intimidated.

“...Hello. Seems we’re teammates.”

“I-i guess?”

A moment of silence, an assessing gaze and a nervous shuffle, before the other teens hands came up and slowly and carefully signed. The motions were hesitant but very clearly defined and signed, the mark of an inexperienced but knowledgeable signer.

-Would you prefer sign?- the Interrogative tilt to Izuku’s head looked awkward, as if he was trying to express emotion, but to didn’t feel natural.

For a split second, the world seemed to click and make sense.

‘He can’t emote easily…’

Koda gave a smile, big and happy, and focused to let himself relax, his signing was slow and purposeful as he responded.

-Please and thank you. I am Koda Kouji, a pleasure to meet you-

He wanted to help people, why not start here and now.

The small, awkward smile on the other teens lips was more than enough to convince him it was the right thing to do.

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 17:04:20 Death count: 59

Izuku pushed himself out of the shower, shaking off heat and moisture as he strode out and grabbed the new clothes he had set on the disheveled bed in his ‘room’. The feeling of water and heat had been one of the best ways he had found to cope with the aches of missing wounds. Even now his finger tips of the arm he had sacrificed felt slightly numb, but the feeling was fading with each second.

Stretching he pulled on another running outfit, feeling nervous and focusing on calming himself. A new trial awaited him.

Stepping out, he walked to the podium, noting the far wall, above the desk where he had talked with his tormentor the very first time, was now a large screen. Most of it was taken up by a large timer, slowly clicking up second by second, but at the very top of the screen, in a simple box, read ‘SIMULATION ONE CLEARED: 12:16:05:00’ in bright green text.

For a moment, he stared at it, and breathed deep. A sense of fire, of emotion and satisfaction and drive, bloomed in his chest.

Breaking his focus, he shifted and pulled himself up on the podium, laying down in a single far too practiced motion.

As the visor slid up and over his head once more, he stared up. A flicker, almost like old film reel, and the next title appeared, a stylized carnival or party looking font surrounding a pizza box.

On the box, was the name ‘Freddies’.

Breathing deep he triggered the simulation, preparing for anything…

The rush of falling, the flicker of reality. And he was sitting up in a office chair, he was so surprised by this he almost knocked his chair over, but as he focused he took in the brick and mortar room he was sitting in, a desk sitting before him. The only light besides the computer monitor came from a recessed light that flickered faintly above him. He took in happy looking, yet decrepit, posters and art hanging form the walls, all promoting a pizza place known as ‘Freddy Fazbears.’

He would have kept checking out the room, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

Glancing around the desk, he was confused at the lack of a phone, before turning to see one hanging on the wall, facing away from the security desk.

A blinking red light flashed as it rung again, and slowly Izuku stood and stepped towards it.

Izuku breathed deep and focused.

It rang a third time, and breathing deeply, izuku lifted the receiver up and set it aside, tapping the speaker button and turning back to start checking over the desk and room, eyeing the two dark hallways to either side with trepidation and concern, before sorting through the desk..

A voice rang out across the room from the phone, calm and somewhat reedy.

"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night.”

Izuku glanced up, eyes locked on the monitor as cameras and a simple map of the building came up.

“Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week.”

Izuku glanced back at the phone, blinking.

“Well... that's not fucking ominous.”

Chapter 7: Stealth? Nah, Explosives.

Summary:

Izuku listens as the new game is explained.

And the battle trial starts off with explosive character development.

Simulation: Day 12 Hour 18:02:00 Death count: 59

Izuku glanced back to the phone, eyes narrowed as he focused back on the voice.

“-inishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?”

“Ominous tone there, guy.” Izuku muttered as he flipped through piles of coupons and ads for ‘Freddy Fazbear’s’, eyes roving for anything that stood out, while keeping his focus trained on the phone behind him.

“Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced."

Izuku dropped the papers in his hand as he slowly stood and turned to the phone, hands suddenly feeling clammy as the unsettling sense that this was going to be as bad as, if not worse than, Slender rushed through him, blood feeling like ice in his veins.

“Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay.”

“...Animatronics?” Izuku glanced up to see the poster, the four robotic mascots presented with names in bright colors. “Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie, Chika, and Foxy.” He blinked and tapped the keyboard, seeing a simplified map appear and options for video cameras open up.

He tapped the controls and began to cycle through options. Trying to figure out how the system worked when he scrolled past a camera. A second of testing and he changed back to the view.

A stage, viewed from the side, with three of the four animatronics, staring out at a bunch of tables and booths.

“-the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh… Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was the Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?”

“Oh, buddy, you have got to be fucking me.” Izuku muttered and glanced accusingly at the phone before looking back at the controls, tapping through feeds to try and find the fox as he listened carefully.

“-concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on.”

“That's starting to sound bad, phone buddy, really fucking bad.”

“-that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to… forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit.”

Izuku froze, hands still as he breathed deep and slowly turned to look at the phone, even as the recording continued.

“Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh.”

“That… that is not a laughing matter, buddy.” Izuku blinked, standing and looking out the right door, seeing a dimly lit back hallway, and then turning and heading to the left as the recording played on and on.

“Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."

Izuku froze, glancing out the left door, knuckles going white as they clenched on the frame of the door he was using to peek around. He turned, and stared at the phone with wide eyes as a dial tone played, the recording over.

“What the fuck do you mean, conserve power?”

Izuku lunged for the computer, tapping a key to wake up the screen as he looked and then saw it, at the bottom corner of the screen.

12:07 AM. Power at 96%.

He stared at that, before the sound of static made his eye twitch and him spin around, ready to dodge an attack, already looking out for the white flesh of Slender.

A split second of panic, adrenaline pumping, wore off, and with a flare of realization. The sound hadn’t come from behind, him.

Izuku turned back to the screen.

The camera feed now showed three animatronics staring straight at the security camera.

“Ah... Fuck.”

---

 

Now

Iida looked around, stretching slightly as he eyed his partner, one Fumikage Tokoyami. The shorter teen with bird-like features was covered by a black cloak, and seemed to be meditating and centering himself as the drawing for teams continued. Iida was already staring at the board as the names were filled in.

The first match was Group C as Villains, and B as Heroes. Iida glanced around only to blink in surprise as two teens seemed to stare each other down. If he was correct, the blonde with an explosive quirk, Bakugou, was teamed with the girl with acid, Ashido. Meanwhile the young man with the dual colored hair and… fairly prominent scar, Todoroki, was standing face to face with him, arms crossed, while a seemingly disembodied pair of gloves and boots stood behind him, nervously fretting. That would be the invisible student, a Miss… Hagakure?

From his position, he couldn’t make out more than the faintest growling and tone of voice from them. Putting it out of his mind, he focused back on the list and blinked as teams F and D were called to perform in the second round.

Team D was him, and his cloaked companion, who would be playing the role of heroes. For a moment, Iida scanned through the group, trying to remember who was- ah, them.

The two quietest teens of the class were standing to the side, hands moving and flickering in calm and careful gestures. The larger teen, Koda Kouji, if Iida had heard right, had a gentle smile and a small bird perched on his shoulder. His companion, the stoic Midoriya Izuku, was next to him. Interestingly enough, he seemed to be the second most armored student, with almost full coverage by his armor and his sword at his side, along with the stock of some sort of rifle or weapon across his back, hidden by the cloak. The sight made Iida tense, the flicker of memory of the teen hanging from the face of the massive 0-Pointer in mind. If that was the same weapon, he would very much like to never face it head on.

Sadly, it didn’t seem like he would get a choice.

He glanced up and blinked, realizing he had missed the last four match drawings.

The rest of the class was pairing off, and with a shout, All Might directed them towards the nearby viewing room.

---

Bakugou met the dead-eyed gaze of his opponent as they stood. The Two Tone Bastard didn’t even respond to his opening trash talk, and the lack of insight was pissing him off. His armor looked like ice, so there was a thematic base to judge his power off of. That, and he had seen the ice structures that the teen had summoned the day before, but why only half of his body? The question was nagging at the back of his skull, even as he turned away from the silent teen.

“You better prepare bastard, we’ll be waiting for you to come with all you have, and we’ll crush you when you get there.”

“YEAH!” The pink chick who was his teammate grinned and flashed a victory sign back at the other team as they marched off, heading towards the building they were supposed to hold.

As he passed through the first door, he frowned and swept over the surrounding hallways, before he slowly started grinning.

“Hey, Pinky, you make acid, right?”

“It’s Mina, and yeah I do Blasty. What are you thinking?”

“I think we start with some renovations to our base.” He grinned, teeth bared in ferocious intent. “Here's what we’re gonna do…”

---

The other 16 students had gathered in the observation booth, a wall of monitors lighting up as the cameras came online and began to flicker and search through the building and its surrounding sides.

Izuku blinked and bit back the urge to rush and get up close. This wasn’t the same room he was killed in so many times, despite the spectral bloodstains and that faint, just beyond earshot, sound of gears and clanking. He blinked and breathed deep, and let it out slowly. His eyes opened to clean walls and bright corners. A bump on his shoulder and the soft and caring gaze of his teammate locked onto his eyes.

-You okay?-

Izuku brought his hands up, a reflex to brush off Koda’s hand on his fingertips… but instead-

-Will be. Bad memory.-

Koda nodded slowly, hand clapping Izuku on the shoulder in comfort for a moment. He let it drop just before the sound of All Might over the speakers echoed out.

“THE VILLAINS’ PREPTIME IS OVER, HEROES, YOU MAY BEGIN!”

Izuku idly bit the inside of his lip, even as he got bumped, Koda wincing as he signed out a single word that make Izuku’s lips twitch up.

-Loud.-

Turning back, he looked over the monitor, eyes roving across them with the ingrained memory of dozens of nights of long hours planning and countering. As he took in the villains’ actions, he blinked slowly, before the smirk grew more pronounced.

‘That's a smart play, Kacchan. Can you back it up?’

---

“So... what's our plan, Mister Quiet Guy?”

Todoroki glanced to the side at the hands and feet floating nearby, the only clear indicators of his teammate.

“You step back, and I finish this in the first blow.”

A shift of gloves and boots, probably trying to project some sort of emotion to her movement that he could barely understand. Something about… impatience? Ignoring her antics, he breathed in, counting down the seconds until he could act.

“Really, that's your plan? You really think tha-”

“HEROES YOU-”

Todoroki didn’t hesitate, he didn’t think. He took only a few seconds to center himself, before gathering his quirk’s icy power in his hand, pulling it in and condensing into as strong and as potent of an attack as he dared. This was the time to make an impression, to prove he stood above everyone without his father’s quirk. When it reached the tipping point, when his fingers felt numb as the cold began to overwhelm his natural resistance, he simply stepped forwards and slammed his right foot down as he swept his arm forwards.

He focused, and instead of forming a glacier, he sent his quirk out in a far more subtle form. He ran it through the entire building, across every wall and floor and ceiling.

Where his quirk passed, the world became an icy hellscape.

With a thunderous crack, the building was encased and laced with ice, frost dancing over any and every surface.

For a moment, stunned silence rang out. Besides him, the invisible girl was shocked into silence, while Todoroki listened, planning to hear cries of frustration and anger from the building.

He didn’t expect to hear a deranged cackle of anger and pride.

A blast of smoke, flame, and force rocked from the front door of the frozen-over building, and as the iced stone and metal shattered and spread across the no man's land between the heroes and the building, the intimidating, explosion-themed hero-in-training glared out, head lowered as a disconcerting chuckle echoed through the ice cold air.

“Oh, you need to do better than that, you Half and Half Bastard. If you think that your little ‘Winter Wonderland BULLSHIT‘ is gonna stop us, then you’re more conceited than I thought!” He cackled, and with a blast from his hand, smoke filled the doorway, concealing his retreat back into the depths of the wintery building.

Todoroki was dumbfounded. How the hell did he avoid the-

That blast, the one that opened the door. He was waiting! He must have been ready to meet them, probably wanting to take an early shot at the hero team.

“Well, what now, Ice Boy? We gonna come up with a plan or sit here ‘til the timer runs out?”

Todoroki glanced at where the girl would be, and scowled.

“You go for the bomb, I’ll distract them.”

She shifted, but Todoroki was already was charging the door, steam rolling off his form as he used his father's curse to warm up enough to use his ice freely once more.

---

 -Reckless.-

Koda raised his eyebrows at the annoyed tick to the word, the aggressive tap of fingers clear as the screen showed Todoroki advancing into the building.

-Cameras inside are down.-

-Most, yes. Not all.-

Izuku gestured up at a series of cameras that had been unfrozen, two of which seemed to be staticy and lopsided. It took a second for Koda to realize they overlooked the ground floor of the building, which meant that Bakugou’s explosion must have cleared their icy covers away.

The cameras were trained on what once was the entrance hall of the building, before the villain team had decided to change a few things. What once was a fairly careful recreation of an office building’s layout was now replaced by a wide, open ground floor, with missing walls, which had been melted or shoved away.

The center of the floor had been turned into a grand open room, with only the main supporting pillars for the building left untouched. The outer rooms and walls were the same, in order to keep the heroes from noticing the surprise renovations.

In the back of the room, an opening in the ceiling showed the twisted and melted remains of the stairwell up to the above floors, removed from play before the heroes even got there.

And in the center, face pulled into a grin of excitement, stood Bakugou.

Todoroki barely had a moment to take it in, before the fight began in earnest.

Even in the observation room, the roar of combat was loud and clear; massive chains of explosions, and the sound of cracking ice, echoes through the screens a half-second behind the sounds from outside.

“So they turned the first floor into an arena… that seems particularly foolish. Bakugou seems exposed and has nowhere to take cover.”

The speaker, a tall girl with a black ponytail and grey eyes, frowned at the scene she saw.

“...Bakugou’s a distraction.”

She turned to meet Izuku’s gaze, only to see the shorter teen with his eyes closed and head tilted, as if listening to the rapid sounds of the fight.

The girl waited, but when the teen didn’t continue, she sighed and spoke up. “Would you care to explain?”

A single green eye cracked open, appraising Momo Yaoyorozu with intent, before the soft voice spoke out, gathering the attention of most of the class. “Bakugou is a fighter to the core. His skillset is built and refined around destructive close quarters combat with a focus on rapid and high intensity engagement. It's his bread and butter, his perfect storm. I guarantee he could leap up that hole with minimal effort, something neither of his enemies nor his teammate could achieve quickly. He turned a maze of options for stealth and evasion into a single choke point, and has set himself up for exactly the kind of fight he prefers. If anything, Todoroki-san’s efforts only assisted him. The ice outside the building means the only way up, is through.”

Momo blinked, and glanced back at the monitors. “And if they only have 15 minutes to get past Bakugou-”

This time Izuku looked up, eyes focused on one of the screens as an explosion blasted the dichromatic teen back. “They only have 11 now. And Todoroki is losing ground fast.”

‘The question is… what do the wildcards plan to do while the titans fight it out?’

His eyes narrowed as he caught another glimpse of Todoroki, darting back from the fight with steam drifting off his form.

The feed was distorted, smoke and flashes of explosions disrupting the video, but he could see it, just for a split second.

Flames under his fake ice armor.

‘Now… why would you refuse your power…?’ A flash of Todoroki’s expression at the end of the quirk assessment. Of his demeanor and a half-noticed glance. And with that, things began to click, giving him the shape of the problem. ‘Ah. You are a fool, Todoroki. Pride has no place on the field.’

---

Toru crouched behind one of the support pillars, gloves long since left behind as she crouched and maneuvered up and closer to the second floor entrance.

Finally, a wave of ice covered her position from the fight. With grace and quiet motions, she leapt up and latched onto the lowest stair, pulling herself up with a soft grunt of effort, only to blink at the twisted and half melted stairwell leading up. Sighing she rolled up and began to ascend the stairwell to the second floor.

“Oh, ‘I’ll finish it with one move,’” she mocked, leaping over a half twisted chunk of concrete, still faintly hissing from acid despite the icy covering. “Not like the other team has a plan or course of action.”

She slipped and bit back a curse as she felt her hand grow warm with liquid, the translucent blood was one of the biggest issues with her powerset. She could rarely judge just how much damage she’s taken. And even her awareness of her body had its limits.

And the goddamn numbing cold wasn’t helping, asshole.

Finally reaching the second floor, she glanced in, only to blink as an explosion tore a section of the floor apart down the hall from her.

“Well, that's the wrong floor.”

Closing the door of the stairwell, she turned and continued parkouring up.

---

Todoroki was panicking, he admits. His body was already starting to ache and seize up, muscles spasming from repeated applications of extreme cold then rapid warming. He gritted his teeth and lept back, another explosion blowing his latest fortification away into the barest glimmers of diamond dust.

“NOT SO COCKY NOW, HUH HALF AND HALF!?”

The smoke and ash covered form of Bakugou strode out of the mist, his mouth pulled tight into a massive grin that only promised pain to his opponent.

Shouto glared back, already trying to raise his body temperature once more, steam wafting off his form.

And like that, Bakugou's smile faded away, eyes narrowing in focus.

“You’re holding back.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, and that was all the confirmation Bakugou needed. A blast of light and force, and he was suddenly up close and personal. Shouto raised his left arm, and the rounded metal gauntlet slammed into his hasty guard like a freight train. Clear resin and insulation styled like ice was outright shattered, and the force of it sent Todoroki flying like a ragdoll. His body was still bleeding steam even as he slammed into one of the few remaining upright walls. He slammed through a layer of ice, through drywall and insulation which cratered around his body, before he smashed through the far side and into the dust and frost covered outer room...

“YOU BETTER STEP UP YOUR GAME! IF YOU LOOK DOWN ON ME, THEN I’LL JUST HAVE TO PUSH YOU UNTIL YOU BREAK!”

Bakugou smashed his braced fists together in a flash of sparks and energy, and marched forwards.

From the hole, a spear of ice, deadly sharp, thrust out at Bakugou, only to be contemptuously shattered with a bash of his gauntlets.

Shouto pushed up, his silhouette visible through the hole in the wall, and his voice, ice cold with emotion and hate, echoed out.

“I REFUSE TO USE MY FATHER’S QUIRK!”

And in the second after he declared it as such, the world around Bakugou was nothing but a rushing wall of ice.

Groans echoed through the observation room as all the cameras watching the fight down below on the first floor suddenly flickered and died.

But at the back of the room, Izuku was already watching the screen that showed the new fight, a camera placed above the Heroes’ entrance to the area. 

---

“ONE MINUTE REMAINS.”

Bakugou breathed out, a burst of explosion clearing the space around him as he stared up at the building before him.

And at the uncontrolled glacier that had sprouted from the lowest two floors.

He had been shoved back by the rush of ice, only quick thinking blasting him clear of the spikes and freezing energy.

It had only required blowing himself out the window to get away.

Grinning, he relaxed. Maybe Todoroki was still holding back… But now he had a perfect excuse to try out a new trick.

He leaned forwards, bracing his stance around his right arm, holding up his gauntlet as he flipped the safety switch under its edge and aimed out.

Almost an hour’s worth of sweating and build up since he first donned his armor at the start of class, now let’s see just how much firepower he can put out.

He grinned maniacally, and pulled the trigger.

The glacier shattered before him, ice that had coated the outside of the building sublimating and every window facing him shattering under the pressure wave. Bakugou himself was blinking, having staggered back from the blast as he eyed his work.

For the first three floors of the building, the outer wall had simply vanished, leaving ice and rubble strewn across the floor and around the building. He looked for any trace of Half and Half, and then scoffed as he realized the bottom floor was nothing but massive chunks of ice that blocked his entrance.

“Dammit.”

He looked up.

Less than a minute, huh?

He grinned, and prepared to move.

---

Ashido swung her legs back and forth aimlessly, sitting on a metal crate with the bomb resting atop it behind her.

Her shoes had also been taken off and set next to her, and her feet were currently dripping acid at a slow pace, pooling in a low potency puddle that was gradually expanding across the cool concrete floor. Large chunks of it were still frozen and floating around her box, but as she relaxed she could hear the combination of explosions and insults from her partner, while she was tasked with guarding the box.

“ONE MINUTE REMAINS!” she winced at the volume of the announcement, but grinned.

And then she saw it. A shifting ripple in the acid, not much, but just enough to draw her attention.

And then, before she could act, there was a massive flash of bright light, and a shockwave of sound smashed her off her perch, her flailing limbs splashing up acid around her, even as the shocked form of Toru came into visibility, form outlined by the pale pink acid, literally two feet from her.

For a moment, both stared at each other as the sounds of fighting resumed downstairs.

And then Toru lunged.

---

Todoroki gave a shuddering breath, drawing desperately on the fire of his father to stave off the bone deep chill as he gazed at the shattered floor around him, his glacier reduced to massive chunks of ice that filled the space around him, any cohesion broken under the shockwave.

He stood from his prone position on shaky legs, steam slowly billowing from the ice covered flesh of his body.

Ashido yelped, and twisted, barely dodging an elbow as it swung for her head. “What-”

And then Toru swept her legs and she landed in her own acid puddle. As Toru shifted to try and get to the bomb, Mina was already spinning, kicking her legs out to catch Toru’s, the invisible girl shrieking in surprise as she stumbled to her knees.

---

Over the intercom, All Might’s voice rang out once more.

“TEN!”

Shouto shoved ice away and his eyes went wide as a massive chunk of ice across from him shattered, revealing Bakugou.

“NINE!”

Toru growled and twisted, rolling free of Mina as she tried to grapple the invisible teen.

“EIGHT!”

Bakugou grinned and darted forwards. Ice Boy looked exhausted, skin pale and balance shot. Quirk exhaustion, clearly. His hand dropped down to grab what he needed, even as Half and Half tried to stagger into a combat stance.

“SEVEN!”

Mina pushed off and slammed into the crate, cursing as the invisible teen danced by her attack.

“SIX!”

Shouto threw his arm forwards, a wave of irregular ice trying to catch Bakugou only for a blast to tear it apart.

“FIVE!”

Toru smashed her fist into Mina’s side, making the pink skinned girl gasp at the hit before grabbing her shirt collar and twisting, throwing the acid-spewing teen across the floor.

“FOUR!”

Bakugou slid low and twisted, the red and white teen trying to turn and track him but stumbling. Darting in, Bakugou's hand smacked into Todoroki’s chest, and a white line of the capture tape was stuck to the teen’s shirt.

“THREE!”

Mina rolled up, eyes wide as she saw Toru charging the crate with the bomb.

“TWO!”

Shouto blinked as his arm was yanked back, eyes losing focus from shock and pain as he felt a line of tension across his chest.

“ONE!”

Toru slapped her hands on the bomb and prayed, even as far below her, her partner collapsed, arms bound tightly by the capture tape and body shaking from the strain of overusing his quirk.

“THE VICTOR IS… THE VILLAIN TEAM!”

Toru slammed her head against the crate.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.”

---

Izuku smirked, eyeing the cameras as the teams slowly were attended too and gathered by small robots and the two pairs of partners gathered together.

‘Good game… but I suppose now I should show off to follow up that display.’

His hands came up, and he tapped Kouda’s side before he began to sign.

-I have a plan.-

Chapter 8: Putting on a Clinic

Summary:

Izuku is far too high a level, even without a quirk.

But he had to fight for it.

Time

Night 1: 2:02 AM, 68% power.

Izuku blinked, rubbing away the strain of his eyes as he tabbed through the screens quickly.

So far he had been careful to conserve power, going so far as to manually check both halls and spend plenty of time simply listening for any auditory cues.

However, he was slowly growing nervous. The sounds and echoes of the animatronics moving was constantly putting him on edge, and the faint glimpses of them on the screen only made it worse.

He glanced at the clock once more, before putting the screen to sleep again.

Time: 2:05 AM

Power: 67%

---

 

Now

Iida and Tokoyami glanced down the street, the still smoking and ice covered remains of the original test building were clearly visible, while before them was another basic building. As the two heroes in training stretched and readied, they began to talk.

“I possess engine augmented legs, allowing me to accelerate quite fast. Yourself?”

“I carry my darker half, his ethereal form quite dangerous. Darkness increases the depth of my power.” From under the hem of Tokoyami’s cloak, a shadowy black bird peeked out, its shining yellow eyes peering up at Iida.

The taller teen took a second to process before nodding awkwardly. “Well, shall we plan on how to engage our enemies?”

“If you possess speed, then perhaps you should lead, while I provide rear cover as we clear.”

“I suppose that is the best way to proceed.”

The two fell back into an awkward silence as they waited for the five minutes to end.

---

Izuku glanced around the room, the bomb having been moved by the efforts of the two teens. Turning, he signed to his comrade.

-You okay guarding?-

-Yes. Be safe!-

-Of course-

Izuku looked back once as he left the room, Koda already leaning out of the window as a small flock of birds began to gather on the far side of the building from the Hero team’s entrance.

Stepping through the door, he thought back to the note that he had received from Hatsume.

‘I got the guns and the main armor finished up, but the new sword, your special weapon and your cutter are giving me trouble. Mask is done though, left hand pocket under the armor cloth. Good luck, test them well!!’

Mouth twitching slightly in amusement at the memory, he slid his hand under the half skirt at his side, pulling forth a thick, curved mouthguard-looking hunk of metal. He brought it up, and with a small whirring click, it attached to the metal gorget that covered his neck. As it covered his jaw, he breathed deep, and pressed two buttons to activate it.

Whirs and clicks echoed as plates shifted and realigned, coming out to wrap around his jaw and face, thin flexible plates reaching up ‘til they aligned over his cheekbones and nose, forming a smooth, curved grill with a design almost like bared teeth, his breath coming out as a faint hiss when he exhaled. As the guard finished, he closed his eyes, feeling two squared pieces shifting to cover his sockets as a third, wider plate wrapped from temple to temple over it.

A second, and then a faint beep, and the darkness that covered his eyes was replaced by a faint blue light.

He opened his eyes to see the world around him washed in a blue hue, the darkest corners of the building now lit clearly to his eyes. Tapping the side of the visor, the blue faded away as he turned off the UV of the helmet, leaving him with the world looking slightly washed out instead.

He tapped the earpiece he wore, and checked it, hearing the channel open in his ears. “Hunter. Comm check.” His voice, normally fairly montone, sounded mechanical and threatening to his own ears, the muffling of his face mask more than enough to remove the last traces of intonation.

That could be annoying in the field. He’d have to check with Hatsume about it later.

“Watcher, Comm ch-check!” Koda’s fairly high-pitched voice echoed across the communicators clearly.

“Good. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Yes!”

Izuku nodded, and shifted his shotgun from his back to his hands, reflexively checking the chamber to see the vibrant purple case of the paint shells he was handed out. Checking with Hatsume via text, she had confirmed they were solid shells that would splatter on impact, and not when leaving the barrel.

So he had quite a bit of range for a shotgun.

Clicking the slide back, the chamber closed and Izuku slung it back across his shoulders.

If he was correct, he had just under two minutes left until the conflict truly began. Reaching in his pocket, he unhooked and pulled out a braided paracord bundle, black thin cord strong enough to support his weight if necessary. Nodding, he also reached in and pulled a small box of loop headed pitons from another pocket.

“200 feet of paracord and 5 floors to cover… Better get going.”

Stepping forward, he got to work.

---

Time: 4:42 AM

Power: 19%

Izuku growled as he heard the repeated clanging of metal on metal from behind the dropped door.

“GO AWAY YOU STUPID FUCKING BIRD!”

He looked back out the other door, fingers rapping on the door frame as he glanced around, tensed and ready for another assault.

With a final echoing clank of metal on metal, the hammering stopped.

Turning back, Izuku frowned, and breathed deep and slow, trying to calm himself be-

Running! Fuck!

He could see it, a split second of red fur and metal, far more rugged than the others, as that FUCKING FOX, ran at him down the hallway.

Ducking back inside the room, Izuku slapped the button to drop the door, grimacing as he considered the cost of the power he was about to use, just in time for the slam of metal on metal as the fox shoulder checked the door.

He darted to the other door, and slammed the light for just a second, the form of Chica, the goddamn chicken robot, outlined in the light before he turned it off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He rested his head against the metal of the door, trying to let the cool steel help with the burning that he could feel in his eyes.

Almost 5 hours down…

One more…

Just one more…

---

Now

Bakugou glared at the camera screens showing the feed from the building, feeling the strange itch and flex of his muscles as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Deku was more than smart, he was dangerous. Bakugou knew it. And it was on display here.

The green haired teen was cutting between feeds fast and loose, darting from location to location with sure and swift movement, leaving behind coils and half hidden loops and lines of paracord, before he turned and bolted up the stairs to the top floor as Bakugou's mental timer hit ten seconds.

At zero, the armored teen was opening a window on the top floor, the shotgun no longer across his back, but braced by his shoulder as he took aim.

“THE VILLAINS’ PREPTIME IS OVER, HEROES, YOU-”

All Might’s announcement was cut off by two quick booms, gunfire muted by the walls but still clearly audible over the system.

Following that was the deep mechanical growl of the teen over the comms.

“...Two.”

---

 

Time: 5:37 AM

Power: 5%

Izuku glanced up, eyes stinging as he put the computer to sleep once more.

“Twenty-three minutes… and five percent.”

He looked around and stood, heading to the doors to manually check them once more. He was tired in a way that Slender had never pushed him to, his eyes burning from stress. His hearing was fading in and out as he tried to focus, straining to hear any footsteps or clunking gears approaching. He glanced out the right door, leaning heavily on the frame as he looked down the long hallway.

Stepping back, he turned and heard it.

A single click.

Too close, too close, too-

He lunged across the security room, smacking the button to shut the door even as the purple enameled frame of Freddy fucking Fazbear latched on the corner.

The door slammed shut, but Izuku could feel it - the creeping sense of dread, a thousand times worse than seeing something like his phone almost dead.

As if to punctuate that dread, the thudding of metal knuckles on the door began. A morbid, slow heartbeat that was waiting for him.

“Five percent left, a door uses one percent of power every four minutes, two doors is half the time for each percent, which means it uses one percent every two minutes. I lose one every six to seven minutes to minor drain. If I was only dealing with the minor drain it would give me 30 minutes... with the drain of one door it’ll be 12… and if they come for the other door, it’ll be even faster. Shit.”

Izuku mumbled and paced to the other door, checking if it was clear for just a second as he kept muttering. His mind was running the math, but it was all coming up short. It didn’t matter what he did or how much he compared the numbers… it wasn’t enough.

I need 10 minutes that I don’t have.

It was only emphasized as Freddy slammed the door again.

---

Now

Iida flinched as the wall next to his head seemed to burst, bright purple goo splattering at his side, even as another slammed into the wall just next to Tokoyami, purple paint splattering across the dark feathers and the shoulder of his cloak.

“DOWN!”

Iida dove behind a dumpster nearby and Tokoyami darted across the ground to another piece of cover, a pile of crates that rested against the wall. It was only then, as Iida glanced back, that his adrenaline froze in his veins. There. Next to where he and Tokoyami stood, were two rounds perfectly spaced to emulate where their heads had been.

Reaching up to the left of his helmet, he pulled the gloved fingers away to reveal they were dripping purple.

‘...he could have killed us in the first second of the fight!?’

Iida turned to see the open window, overlooking the courtyard.

‘That was our folly. Were we really so ignorant as to not take cover from the windows?’

Tokoyami’s voice came over the comms, whispering softly.

“Iida. You okay?”

“...Yes. I suppose we have to move in. Keep to cover.”

“Of course. You as well.”

---

Izuku watched from the window next to the one he had shot from as the two heroes cautiously darted from cover to cover. He scowled at the thought that they considered that protection. If he was using an actual gun, only a few pieces of cover would keep them safe. He glared at the shotgun chamber for a second before stashing it across his back again.

“Note: new issue with paint rounds… No penetrative power.”

Pushing off from the window, he headed to the west side of the building while the heroes slowly advanced from the north, and opened another window, the 15 meters of cord coiled next to it nailed securely to the wall by three black pitons.

Swinging the window open silently with a slow, careful gesture, he tossed the rope out of it and turned back to the stairwell.

He took the steps two at a time, footsteps quick and yet nearly silent as he moved down to the second floor. Standing there silently, he listened. He could hear the heavy footsteps of Iida as he walked to the door, and Tokoyami was audible by the sound of heavy cloth rasping over stone as he crouched next to the armored teen.

Grinning, Izuku flicked the safety on the handgun off.

---

Iida and Tokoyami breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the door.

Raising his hand, Iida began to count down to breach.

Three…

Two…

O-

Glass shattered above him and Iida looked up, with eyes widening behind his helmet, as time seemed to slow.

A mask reaching up to lanky green curls that looked at him... an empty blue glowing visor stretching across and concealing his eyes as the rest of his face was covered by a frankly terrifying metal mask, pieces flowing to form a snarling face of metal.

The masked and seemingly merciless form of Midoriya Izuku looked down, one hand holding the window frame as the other leveled the handgun at them.

Two shots rang out, more paint rounds, these red, smashing into the wall just next to their heads once more. In the moment of shock and silence, there was a chuckle that sounded all the more threatening just by the lack of emotion it contained.

“Four.”

With a shift of weight, Midoriya vanished back inside.

Behind the still stunned Iida, Tokoyami spoke up, his form shifting as Dark Shadow expressed himself in full, the dark projection wreathing up and around the back of the raven faced teen. “...I do believe we are facing a far more terrifying villain than we expected.”

And with that, Iida was filled with a forceful drive to prove himself, to show his opponent that he was not to be toyed with.

“We cannot let him keep the momentum!”

Thrusters firing, Iida kicked the door in, opening up into the central hall of the floor, the stairway in plain sight. Iida took only three steps, Tokoyami darting in to cover them as they entered the building. They had barely taken in the area, when Midoriya dropped into view from the stairwell.

Hanging upside down, with his feet braced on the underside of the railing a floor above them.

His left hand was clutching tightly to a loop of black cord tied above him as the right came up (or down, as the case may be), training the gun on the two heroes.

However, even as Iida was moving to dodge, Dark Shadow darted forth and curled around the heroes, solidifying to take the attacks with a screech of pride and anger. Two red splatters of paint covered the black before dripping onto the floor.

“...finally, you fight back.”

With that parting comment, Midoriya seemed to vanish from view once more, pulling himself back up the stairwell with a low chuckle that echoed, amplified by his mask, off the building around them.

“Good. I was worried this would be boring.”

And with that, the lights of the building went dark.

---

 

Koda glanced up and took a deep breath before looking at the window and the various crates surrounding the room. Almost a hundred birds sat perched on edges and window sills. Sparrows, pigeons, swallows, crows, and even two kite hawks. With another deep breath, he called out.

“Get going, please!”

With a flurry of wings, they lept and took flight, swirling around Koda in a myriad of feathers, before funneling out the window, and then beginning to flutter and circle the building itself.

Reaching up he took a steadying breath, and tapped his comms.

“Midoriya, you’ve got your distraction.”

He glanced up as the lights cut out, and nodded. It seems the rats had found the power box.

---

Tokoyami backed up, his mental grip on Dark Shadow tight as he focused. The long hallways were dim, but not truly dark - mainly because of the light reflecting from the windows and the open doorway into the corridor, as well as a faint glow of sunlight shining down the center of the stairwell. Even with that much light, it was dark enough that Dark Shadow had doubled, almost tripled, in size.

And with an increase in size, came an increase in his quirk’s will.

‘Rush. We can take them.’

‘No! We’ve underestimated him twice and lost in all but name each time. Now, we be careful.’

‘Time... short. Act or lose.’

Growling, Tokoyami begrudgingly agreed.

“Iida, we’re losing time! You head up and start searching for the bomb, I’ll hunt down and keep the dark knight occupied.”

The white armored teen paused, but nodded, rushing up the stairs and darting through the door into the second floor. Tokoyami had been paying attention, however, and stepped into the dark shaft of the stairwell, glancing down at the faint shadow that was cast across the bottom of the landing, before moving his gaze far above to see the armored and masked form of Midoriya far above him, leaning over the stairwell of the third floor landing.

“Come to keep me company, as your ally searches for the bomb?” Came the call, metallic tone echoing even the handgun was aimed down. At the bottom of the stairwell, Dark Shadow stretched and twisted up.

“I shall be your shadowed hero, villain...”

“Then I shall be your sunlit villain, hero.”

With that, Tokoyami lifted his arms and sent the mass of Dark Shadow twisting and clawing up the stairwell, gashes ripping through stone as the possession quirk attacked.

Midoriya remained unimpressed. “Tsk, no control!”

And through the shadowy mass, Tokoyami could only stare as deep blue burned to life in the visor of Izuku’s mask. Where Izuku looked, Dark Shadow withered, flinching back before it could reach the villain. A ring of steel on leather, and a sword, crude but sharp, struck out, severing the arm of the shadow and making it lose its grip. In less than a second, the arm was already regrown, but by then the next action had already been played.

Izuku’s left hand came down, and with a flare of sparks and bright red light, he struck the tip of a magnesium flare to life. The glow made Dark Shadow retreat in fear, even as Midoriya lunged forwards, into the darkness of the shaft, sword and flare held out to meet the shadow.

---

Time: 5:51 AM

Power: 1%

Izuku breathed deep, hands slowly opening and closing as the light flickered above him.

The doors were both open, Freddy having left to wander the building, as if it were a joke. As if he was gonna let him live.

That was a fucking lie.

Izuku stretched slowly, arms and legs limber.

If he was going to lose, then he was going to make them work for it.

The lights went out, but Izuku was already moving, charging out into the black hallway, eyes already adjusting to the dark.

Slender did teach him something, after all.

---

Now

Tokoyami darted away, the shifting and flickering form of Dark Shadow flowing back and forth with increasingly weak and pained attempts at countering the force of the enemy. The flare was sending Dark Shadow flinching back with each sweep and burning thrust, while the sword was harrying the teen himself, long tears appearing in his cloak as the blunted tip caught and pulled across it. Tokoyami’s repeated failure to be able to disengage was sending shockwaves of pain across his body from numerous jabs and taps across his arms and sides.

‘In a real fight, I would have died by no-’

His eyes widened with that realization, and then with a flicker of force and a low sweeping leg, Tokoyami was knocked off his feet, falling back to the ground. His eyes fluttered shut from pain and regret.

Two thuds of ringing metal echoed out, and suddenly Tokoyami’s cloak was his prison. Two large combat knives had been driven halfway through the floor into the concrete, one under each arm and at his sides, driven through his cloak and into the stone to pin him down.

Turning and sheathing his sword, Midoriya strode away, his voice ringing out.

“A quirk is no excuse to leave a body weak. Train hard, Tokoyami.”

As Tokoyami dropped his head back, he stared up at the ceiling in the half lit hallway.

And then he began to chuckle to himself.

‘...Fumi?’

“I do believe, that we have just been owned.”

His laughter deepened, and he tugged at his arms, feeling the restriction of the cloak binding him tight.

Speaking up, so his earpiece could hear, “All Might, I do believe that this is me out for the match. I’ll wait here for the fight to end.”

“...Of course, young Tokoyami. It shall only be a few minutes longer.”

---

Tenya ducked and weaved around corners, darting across the third floor. Last time he had passed through the stairwell, it was to the sounds of blades and shadows fighting.

He glanced around the last room, and growled in frustration. Inside his helmet, the timer he had set was counting down. Six minutes left.

He turned back to the main corridor, making for the stairs.

And paused.

Standing against the railing, arms crossed and head tilted, was Midoriya.

“One down... You’re all that's left.”

The bland metallic tone set Tenya’s nerves on fire, and the click of the comms only made it worse.

As Tokoyami admitted that he was out of the match, Tenya breathed deep and looked back at the villain.

“So, hero? What's your play?”

The flare of exhaust, the growl of the engine, and the humming power surging up his legs.

Tenya lunged.

And beneath his mask, Izukus lips curled into a slight smile.

---

Time: 5:54 AM

Power: 0%

Izuku rolled over a table, even as Freddy’s fist came crashing down over the wooden surface.

As he lunged up and away, Bonnie came around the next table, servos and springs clicking as it tried to box him in. He kicked the chair next to him up and at the animatronic even as he jumped atop the next table. Foxy was wandering the edge of the dining room, waiting in the wings for an escape attempt.

Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie were all trying to box Izuku in, spitting up to circle and close in on him.

He lept from one table to the next, avoiding Chica’s reach as he moved closer and closer to the stage, the animatronics moving in after him.

“That's right, come and get me, you tin-hearted morons!”

He was forced back once more, and seeing no recourse, he jumped up onto the stage, turning in the dark to see the advancing animatronics.

‘Just a little longer, come on… come on!’

---

Now

As Iida darted forwards, he didn’t see a rope that had been uncoiled and stretched across the hallway, didn’t see that in the darkness, Izuku had prepared a rope, that his hand held capture tape in his grasp.

But he felt it.

His ankle caught the rope, tripping him up as he crossed the last threshold.

He stumbled forwards, and Izuku stepped to the side, almost gently patting the teen on the back, before shoving him over the railing of the stairs.

With a crash, Iida cleared the gap in the center of the stairwell. He landed on the far side of the railing, armor cracking as he slammed at high speeds into the wall under the window, glass shattering from the impact. Blinking in dazed confusion, Iida began to clumsily stagger up, hand on the wall for support.

He looked up, eyes unfocused, only to be met by the sight of two birds, large hawks, who were staring at him with gimlet eyes.

As his vision focused, Iida’s gaze trailed up to see more than just two birds.

There were dozens.

All of them perched on railings and stairs leading up to the skylight far above.

They twitched and shifted and hopped around, wings fluttering… but almost all of them were focused on him.

Stepping out from the landing above, Midoriya and his blue visored mask stared down at him with the flock of birds.

“Reckless. You let your temper get the best of you.”

Iida staggered as he reached up, pulling off his helmet and gasping for air.

“You… foul villain…”

Above him, a low, echoing metallic sigh came out, before the mask began to fold away, dropping into a thick metallic jaw piece that Izuku pulled off.

“You’ve lost, ‘hero.’”

Tenya staggered and growled out.

“I… I can still fight!”

“No. You’ve lost. Check your arm.”

Iida looked down, and his eyes widened at seeing a loose wrap of capture tape around his wrist.

“What… but how-”

“The birds got you when you blacked out a moment ago and reached up to grab the railing. I’m fairly sure you’ve got a concussion. And your comm seems to be missing, ‘cause All Might just called the match.”

Iida blinked and reached up, surprised when he realized his comm was indeed missing.

“We... we lost.”

Izuku chuckled, with the faintest hint of humor in his voice. “You did.” he strode down the stairs to Iida, the birds scattering to leave the building through the open windows on the top floor, just another gambit unused and unneeded. “Good Game.”

---

 

Time: 5:59 AM

Izuku screamed as his arms were held down. He looked up and cursed as the animatronics held him down on the table. Chica and Foxy held his arms, while Bonnie was pinning his legs, one of which was clearly broken. He cursed and twisted, but it only brought him more pain.

Then, slow, methodical footsteps approached.

Freddy was coming, and in his hands was an animatronic. It was shaped like a young girl in a bright pink dress where the paint wasn’t flaking off. Freddy approached, and Izuku could only thrash more as the animatronic girl was set on the table next to him. It hissed and clicked and twisted, and like a coffin, it began to open up, springs and gears shifting as the outer casing revealed a far too small space, shaped like a skeleton.

Izuku twisted, only to shout in pain as he felt his right shoulder pop and dislocate.

With terrifying synchronization from the animatronics hold him, he was lifted up, the three of them dragging him through the air to hang over the empty animatronic.

With a strange sense of care, he was lowered, his feet hitting it first. However, as soon as his legs were held tight against the casing, it closed and he screamed in pain.

He glanced down to see blood pooling from the joints and gaps of the metal, mixed with fibers and ripped up flesh that were once his legs.

He screamed and twisted, dislocating his other shoulder with a jerk as the pain overwhelmed him.

And then, even as Freddy was about to lower him, his vision went black.

The pain faded away…

And a glowing white 6:00 AM appeared in his vision, with a comforting chime of bells echoing through the darkness.

As the 6:00 AM faded away…

A counter appeared.

1/7 Nights Complete.

Chapter 9: Respawn, Die, Repeat

Summary:

The aftermath of a performance, and a mask slowly slips.

Now

As All Might stared at the screen, tapping the commands to have the Recovery Bots come to collect Iida, he reviewed what he had just watched, as the students behind him whispered and gossiped about the same.

Young Midoriya was an enigma, and his actions were inconsistent with what All Might had been warned of. His actions and techniques were refined, yes, but he had shown no real drive or intention to end the fight at the start. The counting, of how many times he could have eliminated his opponents at the start, was… terrifying. Just at the start, the match could have been ended instantly, but instead the teen had playfully unnerved his opponents. All Might’s trained eyes and combat experience also showed through at the realization that many of Midoriya’s tricks, traps and surprises went largely unused. The coils of rope, the open windows, even the birds, a distraction, had been fairly useless in the long run.

“Young Midoriya, please escort Iida to the front of the building. A transport to the infirmary and Recovery Girl’s attention should see him back to class soon enough.”

“Understood,” the curt and montone reply made All Might’s skin crawl. Where was the joy, the expression of interest that was evident in the teen’s actions but not his voice? It was simply… unnatural.

On the screen, Midoriya grabbed the taller teen’s arm and pulled Iida close, hooking the teens arm around his shoulders and bracing as he assisted the speedster to the first floor.

‘Or maybe...’ All Might mused to himself, sharp eyes catching a building tension in Izuku’s frame from the contact. ‘It's far more natural for him to keep people away than anyone could expect.’

---

 

At the bottom, Tokoyami was still pinned, trying to get Dark Shadow enough leverage to yank the knives free. The quirk was grumbling, shifting and twisting to grab the knives, but since couldn’t brace against his companion as he normally would, it was unable to make the knives come free.

As footsteps approached, the raven-headed teen looked to see Midoriya supporting his comrade, who’s armor looked cracked and head lolled somewhat, as opposed to his once perfect posture.

“What happened to him?” Tokoyami asked, as the he passed by.

“Tripwire, and the stairwell.” Realizing that was likely the crashing sound the raven-haired teen had heard earlier, he nodded and laid back down. “When he’s taken care of, would you be so kind–”

The sentence was cut off as out of the stairwell, Koda glanced down the hall, stoney head scratched at sheepishly and a large rat on his shoulder. “I–I can help!”

Midoriya glanced back from where he neared the doorway out and nodded. “Pull towards his feet and up.”

With that, the two armored teens left the building.

A few minutes of getting his grip and figuring out how to crouch to get the right leverage, and the knives slowly came loose, jerking up and being set down nearby.

“Thank you for your assistance, Animal Speaker.” Tokoyami nodded, Dark Shadow shaking its head in thanks as well.

The rocky teen grinned and rubbed his neck, before looking up as Midoriya strode through the front entrance and back down the hallway by himself, the tall red boots silent and black cloth hanging down from around his shoulders swaying. As he approached, his hands came up as if to sign, before he glanced at Tokoyami and spoke instead.

“Koda, I’m gonna gather my remaining supplies back up. Say thanks to the birds for me, and sorry they didn’t get to perform their act.” The monotone voice was soft and careful, even as the teen crouched and picked up his knives, a smooth motion sliding them behind his back under the loose cloak he still wore tucked into hidden sheathes in the small of his back.

As he strode past, Tokoyami spoke up, picking up the discarded red plastic flare that had burned out only a minute before the match. “Thank you for the match. It was quite… illuminating.”

As Izuku glanced back, lips twitching, a hint of humor in his eyes.

“Anytime.”

With that, the wraith like figure wandered up the stairs.

Koda blinked and tilted his head. “Was… that a pun?”

Tokoyami merely gave a slow blink before he walked away, as Dark Shadow giggled inside his cloak.

---

Izuku breathed deep as he collected the looped ropes from around the top floor, and pulled a small crowbar from his pouch to recover the pitons that held them ready.

‘Back window escape route, main stairwell rapid descent, the 5th to 3rd floor rappel rope, Tripwires 1-5, Snare hoops, anchor cord for second floor landing…’

Checking off the rope lengths and locations in his mind, he slid the last piton back in his pocket, before pulling one of the two knives he used to pin Tokoyami.

The tip was deformed from impact and the top third of the blade had been warped and dulled by slamming it into concrete. Sadly, he had expected this. Just like his blade was rough and poor quality, these had been cheap acquisitions, more from random junk shops and novelty stores than an actual bladesmith. He was more surprised they hadn’t snapped under the force he subjected them to. He would have to requisition more blades from Hatsume.

God, he missed that parrying dagger he had picked up in New Londo. It had been extremely useful as a backup, until he broke it off in Havel’s eye. His eyes closed in remembrance and he could almost feel it. The long walk through the Undead burg to the outer wall, avoiding archers and firebombs while slaying dozens of undead. He had rested at the top of the tower, below where he had defeated the Taurus Demon and the path to Solaire’s perch.

And then he had descended the empty tower, passing through store rooms until he reached the bottom floor.

Where Havel, the massive knight who wielded a dragon's fang as a club, awaited him.

The fight had been brutal, and when his blade, one of the many longswords in the realm, had snapped under a poorly blocked hit from the fang, Izuku had acted on desperate impulse.

He still remembered the feeling of the blade sliding through his helmet’s slitted face, cutting off Havel’s chuckle of victory. He could hear the scream of pain as his desperate last trick struck home, the sound and feel of the blade snapping as the knight had reared back, the club swinging wildly and knocking Izuku against the wall, caving in his latest breastplate and breaking bones, but not quite fatal enough to keep him down.

He remembered the sense of satisfaction as the shattered longsword he had kept hold of had slid past the knights heavy armor, sneaking up under the arm raised to his face, and into the knight’s heart.

He also remembered leaving the bloody and far too heavy remains of Havel and his armor to rust and fade, only taking his ring as a sign of victory.

Breathing out in a sharp exhale, Izuku stood, tossing the knife in his hand up and catching it absently as he turned. He had wasted enough time here. There were more fights to watch, and he expected the fighters from the last match would return soon, all but Kacchan having been sent to the infirmary to get patched up before his match had begun.

However, as he strode out the front door of the building, knives and gear all stowed, he was met with a surprise.

 

---

 

Freddy Night 3

12:06 AM

Freddy Death count

44

“''Hello, hello? Hey you're doing great! Most people don’t last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-th-that’s not what I meant. Uh, anyway I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight.

Uh... Hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit, uhh, try playing dead! You know-”

Izuku reached back and tapped the receiver, the voicemail cutting off as he shoved the myriad of crumbled papers and ads from the desk to the floor.

“Sorry phone buddy, but I’ve heard you say that way too much.”

He finished clearing the desk and he reached out. The mirror mounted on the wall was lifted and he held it, glancing at the deep bags under his eyes he could see in the reflection, and the fact his hair was slightly longer. “It’s been what, a month? I need to check next time I die.”

He set the mirror against the wall behind him, angled to let him see down the left hallway from the desk. The posters were ripped down next, and Izuku tossed them in the trash can, whistling as he reached out and tapped the right door control and shut it on Chika’s face. With that done, he stood and stretched before the desk. He held out his hand, and spoke clearly.

“Notebook.”

A flicker of light and a leather bound notebook landed in his hand, and he slammed it to the table with gusto, flipping it open to a pair of pages covered in math, a sketch of the rooms, and a list of times and events. The bottom left corner was stained by rust colored splatters.

“Alright, let’s go you mechanical fucks.” Izuku growled as he unplugged the fan from the wall, lips twitching as a smile formed. “I want to play.”

In the darkness beyond the office, the animatronics moved to meet him.

---

Now

Bakugou leaned against the wall, hands clenching and flexing as he fed more sweat into the cylinders around his wrists, topping off his ammo.

Some of that sweat was from the anxious churning in his gut as he watched his childhood friend tear his opponents apart.

Grace, skill, weapons, tactics… Everything Katsuki once considered to be things he was unmatched at. And for years, he was right. But he had watched the streams, found highlights of the various games and more well-known bits of Izuku’s imprisonment. From the compilations of him out-running Slender in the early days, to the far more well known Outlast Final Run. Katsuki knew that the ‘watchers’ as they called themselves was a fairly small community in the grand scheme of things, but once they realized that Izuku felt and lived through every game, they had dedicated forums and videos to breaking down tactics and skills, to hunting up dog-eared two hundred year old game maps and playthroughs. Hoping and waiting until they could help ‘The Runner’ in the games.

After game four… they got their chance.

Bakugou remembers dozens of hours where he was sitting staring at a screen, much like today. And when that gate opened, when the video stream of Izuku, face pale and exhausted, eyes manic and with bags so deep and dark they looked black, stared out from the screen.

He also remembers the messages he typed, but never sent.

What could he say, in the end? Even he didn't know.

Regardless, Bakugou watched as two of the the hero students made their way into the control room to murmurs. All Might turned to the two students, and an eyebrow arched in confusion.

“Ah, young Koda, where is your partner?” Koda opened his mouth to answer before Tokoyami cut in.

“Midoriya-san is currently recovering the gear he used to trap and prepare the room. He stated he would only take a minute or two.”

The teacher nodded and glanced at the cameras, while Katsuki mimicked him, seeing only a glimpse as Deku walked off of one screen onto another, passing outside.

“Hey, Tokoyami right?” the voice was excited and brash, and Bakugou glanced over to see spiky red hair as another teen walked up to the cloaked crow guy.

“Indeed.. and you are Kirishima, correct?”

“Heh, yeah. Anyway, I was wondering how the hell you lost that fight man! I mean, your quirk is really flashy and cool, and he ripped right through it! Did he use his quirk to counter yours or something?”

As the crow seemed to shuffle awkwardly, Katsuki let out a snort of derision.

“The nerd doesn’t have a quirk. That was sheer skill and experience.”

The rest of the class turned towards him in confusion, before the door opened once more and the dangerous nerd in question walked through, eyebrow quirked in an expression of amusement.

Mainly at the small hawk perched on his armored shoulder, glancing around.

---

Honestly, Izuku didn't know it really care why most of them were looking at him like that. Was it the hawk on his arm? You’d think that would be pretty low on the list of weird occurrences. Or maybe his internal scale was just fucked up more than he thought.

Bringing his arms up, careful to not disrupt the hawk, he signed to Koda.

-It seems I've picked up hitchhiker. Would you ask why he stuck around?-

Koda blinked and walked to Izuku’s side, voice dropping as he started talking with the hawk, the larger teen’s natural height putting him just a few inches taller than the bird. While that happened, the rest of the class seemed to be frozen in a state of confusion and hesitation. Katsuki was the one who seemed to really be willing to talk, but seemed too preoccupied with smirking and watching the rest of the class.

Great.

Now he was gonna have to solve the mystery by himse–

“Are you really quirkless?”

Izuku gave a slow, languid blink, as he turned his head. He ignored the sudden bloodstains on the walls and the sound of a corpse hitting the floor as he focused.

The voice came from the tall, sophisticated-looking girl across the room, black hair spiked out behind her head as grey eyes assessed the teen.

“I am. Is that a problem for you?”

He was calm, you could even describe him as monotone. The blood that rushed down his fingertips was fake, nothing but an afterthought.

“I’m more curious as to where a quirkless teenager managed to pick up more refined skills than most heroes I’ve met.”

Izuku let his heart rate pulse faster, let his reigns slip looser, just for a second, just to give him the clarity and freedom to really transmit his thoughts.

He slowly stretched his mouth into a bright and cheerful smile, his eyes closing as he let it stretch just a bit too wide, a bit too sharp. Even through his lashes he could see the faces pale, the eyes blink in confusion and bodies shift in unease.

“Why. I learned from experience.” His voice was sharper and higher pitched, snarkier, a bit of bite, of venom, of sarcastic glee. He let his emotions leak for just a second, before his smile faded like mist in the morning sun, his green eyes gleaming dark as his heart rate slowed once more. “That enough of an explanation?”

He watched with careful eyes as Yaoyorozu Momo slowly and deliberately swallowed, before she nodded once. He had to give it to her, she hid her fear well. “Yes. I apologise for… overstepping my grounds.”

The rest of the class seemed to be ready to fall into a half terrified silence, before All Might cleared his throat, clearly not having expected being ignored. “Well then! Since most of our teams are here this round, let’s review.”

Tuning out All Might as he began to speak to the rest of the class about the fight, but keeping enough awareness to follow along. Izuku’s eyes glanced to Koda, who’s hands signed a few short sentences that explained the situation.

-Young Bird, curious of you. Calls you the Human... Raptor, I guess? Wants to learn from you by watching. Offers to provide a pair of eyes. Will assist me as well.-

Izuku gave another slow blink, one that conveyed curiosity and consideration, before shifting his eyes to meet the sharp gaze of the raptor still on his shoulder, before his hands signed back.

-Tell him sure, but he’ll need to practice with us later.-

Koda seemed taken aback somewhat, but nodded,before leaning in to whisper to the bird. Izuku made a mental note to ask what type of bird, and what types of food and needs it would want from them.

“-MVP of the match?”

The class shifted and murmured, before a girl with deep purple hair and earphone looking lines off her ears raised her hand.

“Yes, Jiro-san?”

“I would assume it’s Midoriya. He was on top and focused on the enemy team the entire match. The only reason why he wouldn’t be the MVP is that he didn’t go for those kill shots early on.”

Speaking softly, so softly he doubted even Koda at his side could easily hear, Izuku gave her a hint.

“What would a fight that ends so fast teach?”

His eyes caught Jiro’s tense shoulders, and the flinch from a taller masked teen with six shifting arms across the room. Curious. Two with hearing that caught that.

Regardless, All Might was already breathing in to speak.

“Well said, young Jiro! Midoriya was indeed directly in control of almost the entire match, and Koda performed his support role quite well! You could not hear it, sadly, but young Koda took out the lights, and was providing information and scouting via his animal companions.”

As the class muttered and spoke in understanding, Koda shifted under the occasional glances while Izuku shifted his arm up, the hawk leaping to his gauntleted arm and then up to Koda’s shoulder.

The presence of an animal companion almost instantly seemed to calm Izuku’s teammate from agitated to simply uneasy.

As the class moved on, Izuku watched as the paired teams began to leave.

He slid a small pocket book from his pocket, flipping it open and glancing at the matchups he had marked down earlier.

Shouji Mezo and Mineta Minoru defending against Aoyama Yuga and Asui Tsuyu.

Following that would be Yaoyorozu Momo and Jirou Kyouka against Sato Rikido and Sero Hanta, and the final match would be Uraraka Ochako and Kirishima Eijiro against Ojiro Mashirao and Kaminari Denki.

Flipping to a clean page, Izuku kicked a foot back to rest against the wall and sat on the heel of his boot, knee up as a desk as he focused. He watched the screens, the current group using the same building Izuku and Koda had. With a slow breath, he let himself diffuse his attention, eyes only flickering to focus when something was important on the monitors.

He ignored the sound of children's music that began to softly play, haunting his thoughts. 

---

Freddy Night 3

4:36 AM

Freddy Death count

44

Still. Relaxed but still. Don’t move… don’t blink… don’t shift….

Izuku’s eyes watched while he kept his heartbeat slow.

‘Three, two, one.’

Izuku rolled out from under the dining room booth table and leaped behind the marching Bonnie, darting forwards to grab the last instrument off the stage before the animatronic could turn to him, and vaulting from the stage to another table before skidding around the corner and darting back down the hall into the office, grinning as he eyed his collection resting under the phone.

He had stolen all their instruments, and he had plenty of time left.

He checked the camera, quickly.

“Alright… 23 percent and an hour left…. Yeah, that’ll work.”

He sat on the desk chair and breathed deeply.

He knew he was insane. That he was being stupid setting these goals for himself.

But the rush, the emotion, was wonderful. The adrenaline of facing them, the rush of accomplishing something after so long.

Even as he reached out and his hand hit the button to close the door, only the faintest form of Bonnie's angry mechanical expression visible as the barrier slammed shut, Izuku giggled.

He was running on euphoria. But he could tell things would get worse soon.

Phone guy… Was nervous in the day three message.

And Izuku was getting bad vibes about tomorrow.

And that was not even considering how strained, how weird, Izuku’s mind felt anymore. The long up to six hour sessions, the stress, the constant state of alertness….

He was changing.

And he wasn’t sure how it would end.

Chapter 10: Wall Glitching

Summary:

Izuku takes notes, and in the past he breaks rules.

Night 4:1:06 AM

Freddy Death count: 51

Izuku knelt down and tied his shoes on, checking they were tight, the tall red and black boots gleaming in the halflight of the office. Behind him, the phone rang, before clicking on.

“Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it!”

Izuku breathed deep, blinking away a tear from his eye as he stood up glancing at his pitch black jeans and long sleeve shirt. In the dark, he looked almost invisible, and from a pocket he pulled his beanie and a black mask that would wrap around his face.

“Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow.” the echo of banging began to play behind the guys voice as Izuku pulled the mask on. “banging* It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you, -uh, when I did.”

Izuku breathed deep, and tucked his hair under the black of his beanie before stretching. His eyes roamed across both closed doors.

“Uh, hey, do me a favor? Maybe… maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I-, uh, I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won’t be so bad.” the sound of banging grew louder, more aggressive. “Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there.”

Izuku stood tall and let out a slow hissed exhale past his mask. Two chimes echoed out, each one out of sync. One from the phone behind him. And one from out in the pizzeria.

“You know…”

From the phone a deep moan echoed out.

“oh, no-”

Before the sound of the phone guy’s death could play once more, Izuku reached out and tapped the button to end the recording. He felt sick. He felt… like he had cracked and fractured. That things that made sense, things that were inherently Midoriya Izuku, were… tilted and misshapen. He had woken up… only a few runs ago. The first time he had come into night 4. That recording… It had snapped him out of it, had dragged him back from the edge of his madness.

What happened to being a hero? What happened to sacrifice, to joy and smiling as he saved people?

Izuku tried to smile, but the face behind his mask wasn’t one of joy.

It was a snarl of hate.

“Alright you fuckers.”

Izuku cracked his knuckles, and braced, waiting as the screen on across the room showed his power drop drastically, as loud thuds began to echo out from the doors..

“Time to change the rules.”

Twenty minutes later, the doors failed, the power out, and the animatronics strode into the room.

And Izuku was nowhere to be seen.

---

Now

Izuku’s note were simple, but he was satisfied he had watched each match, breaking down the heroes and villains as they fought, but refraining from the after action commentary.

Shouji was a tank of a hero, with a surprisingly versatile mindset. Enhanced senses to negate stealth, unorthodox fighting style to pin and grapple, and plenty of drive… despite the far more cowardly companion he found himself with. A point to Mineta Minoru, however, was the sheer utility of his quirk. From sealing doors to lining windows and trapping hallways, the purple orbs he created had their use.

As for the opponents of the two, Aoyama Yuga was flashy and direct, Izuku remembering his quick encounter with the french descent teen earlier on, in the entrance exam. The teens quirk was powerful, but much like Mineta, Aoyama’s mindset was a distraction, not a boon. His partner, however, was almost as well rounded as Shouji seemed to be. Agility, speed, a mid ranged strike from her tongue, and almost as much proficiency at grapples and pins as Shouji, if from a far different standpoint.

The fight had been close, with an early advantage to the hero team in the fact that Aoyama’s Laser was far more destructive and long range than any other fighter. The teen had used the length of the building to blast holes around the defending Villain team, while Asui had engaged and maneuvered past them. Sadly, Mineta had been taken out while pinning Asui, her knockout kick a thing of beauty.

From than it was a matter of time and stamina, and Shouji was far more conservative than Aoyama.

The villain team won, time running out and Aoyama stalemated.

Izuku left out a soft almost inaudible sigh in disappointment at the lack of tactics, and flipped pages. His dark green eyes once more glancing over the notes he had on the next two fights.

Yaoyorozu Momo… One of the recommendation students, with a quirk that was as dangerous as it was versatile. He had watched her generate a taser, flashbangs, and handcuffs as she went along, and that was when he was focusing on her gear.

She could make nearly anything, as long as she understood the component parts and atomic structure.

The mere glance at that written phrase made Izuku’s hands twitch and his finely honed scavenger senses tingle in joy. Weapons, armor, explosives, ammo, and even electronics… The engineer in him was screaming in desire almost as much as his scavenger was.

He let loose a soft, almost inaudible hum, into the fur collar of his cloak, glanced at his notes for the other three in that match. A sensor and midrange fighter in Jirou Kyouka, who’s quirk he had noted was surprisingly dangerous on a physical level, considering she had slammed the metal tip through concrete. There was Sato and Sero, who was a strange combination of trap specialist and strength tank. Sero had lined the floor around the bomb with sticky web like structures formed from his tape, and Sato had patrolled the lower floors leading up to the bomb. Sadly, it seemed that Jirou’s support gear was an effective armor bypassing attack, one he noted he needed a counter for. Perhaps a better set of ear pieces? He circled the note before glancing at the results. Yaoyorozu and her gear had provided an easy solution to the tape, a simple magnesium flare shaped onto the end of a staff had let her burn and clear a way through, and Jirou had darted past her while she occupied Sero, allowing the first of the hero teams to score.

The final match had been two familiar faces. Uraraka had spoken with him on and off since his first meeting with her, even texting him once or twice to ask about something. To be perfectly honest, the tall girl was polite and kind, but seemed… bubbly. A bit too exuberant. He enjoyed her presence, that faith and joyful enthusiasm bringing old memories to his thoughts. Beyond that, her quirk was interesting, reminding Izuku of the stasis mechanic of Deadspace and of his times playing in Zero Gravity, and the shenanigans within.

Her teammate, Kirishima, and his quirk also brought to mind plenty of memories. The sheer variety and number of durable enemies he had faced, from the relentless androids of distant and alien infested Sevastopol station, to the armored tanks known as the Big Daddy’s who roamed Rapture… Izuku was already sure that in a fight, he could win. He knew from experience that armor and durability meant nothing if you understood how people's bodies worked, and how to abuse joints to make people break themselves.

Ojiro Mashirao and Kaminari Denki, were a different story. Ojiro’s skill and technique far out shown both of his competitors and his teammate, with a clear style and practiced motions. Izuku was fairly confident that if he had to fight the Tailed teen, he could hold his own, but the teens reach and flexibility were developed enough that he wouldn’t be able to guarantee a win. But the other teen was a threat and a half, if only for a single shot. Izuku’s armor was insulated, his rubberized red boots working to help with that, but he knew that with enough current, it would arc through the air. And judging by the way that the blonde teen shot sparks and bolts of lighting out, Izuku was more than concerned about getting in close. The teens ‘Overloaded’ state had made his mouth quirk into a smile for a second, but Izuku was well aware of how dangerous live currents could be.

He’s died to them a few time before.

Shaking the thought away. He glanced down and mentally reviewed that Uraraka and Kirishima had won. Though he verified his mental note from the entrance exam that when Uraraka dispelled her stasis effect, the object regained mass, but kept momentum.

Kirishima had gone through three walls like that.

A tap of his fingers, and he marked one last note, eyes trailing to his teacher and the hero he admired above all.

All Might-

‘Old Injury? When? Strain builds over time… Research Villain fights where chest was injured… Look for recovery time period. Likely 2-8 year timeframe’

He frowned, and flipped the notebook closed, shifting to lean against the wall as Uraraka, Kirishima, and Ojiro helped escort a dazed looking Kaminari back to the security office.

He glanced at the blood stains he could feel creeping up his arms, and focused to keep his mind quiet.

‘I need to get some peace and quiet soon… before I start doing something stupid,

By now, a solid third of the class had been injured in some form, and aside from quick trips to the infirmary to deal with anything greater than some bruises, or the fact that Todoroki was currently in bed rest to deal with his quirk exhaustion. As the class that was not being held back gathered and began to chat and talk about things, Izuku shifted slightly, perched near the door frame and letting his casual fighting demeanour bleed away as he slowly began to rest once more, the interesting new information already filtering through his thoughts, reflexes and instinct assessing his classmates as they finished up their last class of the day.

As he let his focus slip, as he let his mind drift from the task at hand, he realized he had miscalculated. He didn’t need peace and quiet soon.

He needed now.

A spike, minuscule, from 36 beats per minute to 51… and his senses began to crawl with instincts and paranoia.

He took a final, deep breath, and stepped out the door, hearing All Might dismissing the rest of the class even as he preempted the hero. He doubted the hero would notice, and even if All Might did, then he would simply have to explain. He knew his condition, his insanity.

And he knew when his grip on it started to slip.

So, with that in mind, he walked, footsteps silent and measured. From the curve of his spine to his arm placement, his posture carefully molded to be nonchalant and relaxed.

He focused, the ringing sound of screams and moans and hissing twisting mad muttering all faintly on the edge of his hearing. He had pushed it. He had let himself wake up, let himself exist just a bit too much. The instincts, the memories...He knew he was insane. Knew that if he hadn’t gotten in UA, than he’d be locked up in some psych ward or a prision.

He saw the locker room ahead of him, and bit his lip, a familiar and yet now so much more real taste of blood and copper on his tongue as he turned away, taking a door he had seen earlier, am empty classroom greeting him as he closed the door, the faint sounds of his classmates echoing past the wooden barrier as he let his hands untense, fingertips shaking with sensation, with want and need.

He leaned back against the wall next to the door, and let his legs slowly give out, his back sliding down the wall as he closed his eyes, shifting so one knee was propped against his chest, and the other leg was stretched, tensed and ready.

Like that, Izuku focused and took slow deep breaths.

He ignored the static.

He filtered past the sounds of creaking pipes and distant screams and growls.

He breathed deep and shoved his mouth in the fur collar of his armor, letting the unique musty scent of the fake fur block out the taste of ash and the smell of death and rot. Breathed deep and slow, hands clenching and flexing as he focused.

He looked up and blinked, the flickering shadow of Freddy Fazbear fading and twisting into the all too familiar and hated form of Slender, into the crown like armor of Lautrec, before his mind reasserted reality over insanity.

“Gotta focus… gotta relax…” the words slipped through bloodied lips in a nearly inaudible whisper as he closed his eyes once more, turning his focus inwards, on his body. The tears on his face were salty, but not ice-cold like the leaks of Rapture. His bloodied mouth tasted of copper but not arterial sprays from Racoon City, his skin felt clammy, the heat of his blood fighting against the sudden chill of the empty room, but it wasn’t the ice cold touch of Slender.

After a bit, he felt the surge of sensory hallucinations begin to fade. Specific memories locked away once more, particular thoughts and aches fading back into that familiar full body sensation as if he was standing near a generator, as if his body was charged and powered and flowing with dark sinister energy.

He breathed and exhaled in a slow, measured, pace. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone, tapping the stopwatch app even as he placed his fingers on his neck. He could feel it. The heartbeat hovering just over 40, but the process would help. Would ground him.

“1...2...3...4..-”

He counted each pulse, feeling as they slowly, oh so slowly, dropped from what a normal person would consider resting, to his slow and sleeping pace.

33 beats per minute…. 32….. 31…… 30.

He waited. Another 30, and than another, and another.

He breathed slowly, and closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the bloodstains had faded away.

He waited, patiently, and when they didn’t return, he slowly stood.

He glanced at the clock and scowled, letting the expression bloom across his face in self deprecation.

24 minutes to get under control.

That's too long.

He shoved away from the wall, and turned and stepped through the door. Thankfully, heroics was the last class of the day. Which meant he had plenty of time to go and change back into his uniform… or, since it was the end of the day, he could change into something more casual.

Nodding, he paced towards the locker rooms.

---

Night 4: 4:06 AM

Freddy Death count: 51

‘4…. 3…. 2….-’

On one, Izuku slid the panel free, looking from the ceiling crawl space down into the maintenance room. All the animatronics were still looking for him, steady clunking and clicking metal echoing through the building. He doubted this would work again, considering how the animatronics seemed to learn and adapt to Izuku’s actions, but now he had finally gotten a chance to check out this room. The other four or five times he had tried, he had ended up getting grabbed nearly instantly, something about this room set off the robots like nothing else if they saw him get near.

Reaching out, he slowly lowered himself from the rafters into the room, glancing around the room and trying not to flinch when empty mechanical spaces stood open and waiting. He had died to them far too often.

Glancing around, he froze.

There, in the corner. A tall cowboy styled racoon animatronic sat limp. Seeping from its joints, from its cracks and panels, was a dark red crust. Even out and around it, a dark stained pool of dried blood stretched, along with a clear line where it had been dragged and discarded in the corner…

In its hand, a black and blue cap, the white letters ‘SE’ and ‘ITY’ clear past the bloodstained grip.

“...fuck.”

Izuku let a slow and silent sigh, and creeped towards the animatronic, reaching out to slowly tilt the head up, where dried and bloodstained blue eyes… human eyes, stared out blankly, preserved behind a glass surface, while hanging from the loose jaw, red and yellow teeth gleamed, cracked and broken, from its mouth.

Slowly, Izuku let the head drop, and sighed in regret.

He glanced down, and blinked. He had another thing held in the other hand, almost… posed.

A high quality flashlight, with a cracked glass lens. Glancing around and listening to the still distant animatronic noises, Izuku slowly slid the flashlight free and tucked it in his pocket, before looking around the room once more.

He carefully lifted and shifted piles of parts, looking for anything that would give him an-

‘Oh, this might work.’

He reached down and pulled from under a half welded up plate, a blue canister with a nozzle on top.

He glanced at the side, and felt his lips curl in a grin, he thumb wiping dust off the bright red and yellow warning label.

Warning! Extremely Flammable! Fire/Explosion Hazard! Keep Blowtorch aimed away from flammable objects!

Izuku glanced back and heard the approaching footsteps of one of the animatronics, Bonny by the sound, and leapt off the counter and back into the ceiling, sliding the panel closed even as the mechanical rabbit stepped back into the room.

In the rafter, Izuku eyed the torch in his hand, before his eyes snapped up.

‘I wonder… Is the kitchens gas line on?’

---

Now

Three rooms down from the abandoned class Izuku had claimed for his breakdown, Jirou Kyouka slowly opened the door, eyes glancing to confirm what her ear jacks had told her. The green haired teen that was her classmate was long gone.

She slowly walked to the room he had broken down in, worry on her features.

“Jeez… I could hear his heart rate spike… and then his counting thing, but what triggered it?”

She had changed after class, but when she could still hear the counting mutters of her classmate, she had doubled back and hidden nearby, to keep tabs on him and make sure he was safe.

She glanced in the room, and then down the hall.

“Well… what the hell do I do now?

Chapter 11: PVE enabled

Time Night 6: 5:42 AM

Freddy Death count: 55

Izuku was crouched low in the dark, a wet cloth tied around his mouth. The fire had been burning for the last hour, just like it had for the last few nights. The smoke and chaos offered him coverage, though they did keep him from easily using the ceilings, considering how he had asphyxiated there once already. And that was not a fun way to go.

Tables were tipped over and chairs shattered around him, Izuku breathing deep and slow from where he was currently entombed under the seats of one of the booths, having ducked under there to avoid part of the ceiling collapsing around him.

Glancing out from under the seats, he tried to blink away smoke and tears.

The clanks and slams of the animatronics were frantic. He grinned at the fact that he was right.

The fire made them glitch.

The first time he had blown up the kitchen, the robots had frozen for 20 minutes, only watching in confusion as the smoke and flames billowed through the building, the fire suppression system barely working with the amount of fuel and spare materials Izuku had gathered to help the process.

And afterwards, there was definitely a panic to their motions, keeping them distracted for night four. Night five had worked almost as well, but he had died to the fire several times, trying to figure out the best way to start and spread the flames.

He listened for the thud and creaks of the animatronics even as he glanced down and smirked.

Two minutes left, all he had to do was hold tight and he-

The seat he was under shattered, torn away as a gleaming gold and black Freddy stood there, flames licking up its form and melting fur into a gleaming black tar that dripped and burned across its form. A black top hat was half turned to ash, and gleaming human-like eyes, bore down on Izuku.

And then for the first time in almost a month, Izuku heard something speak.

“You shall die.”

The gleaming gold fist slammed down, crushing Izuku’s stomach with a sickening squelch. Blood splattered up and across him as he coughed, unable to breathe as fluid bubbled up his throat.

The gold Freddy reached out and grabbed him, hand wrapping around his skull so only a single eye could still see the half molten animatronic’s face. He wanted to scream, the feeling of heat searing through his skull. He was dragged, hanging limp from the animatronic as he felt more blood rushing from one of the greatest wounds he had taken yet.

“You will die, player. I and mine shall kill you over and over again. You have broken our rules, decided that they no longer matter. As such, I shall do the same.”

Izuku was lifted up and thrown, bones breaking and wood slamming through his side as he crashed through the wooden tables nearby, landing back down. He opened the one eye he could still feel to see the room, while the rest of his skull felt seemingly burned beyond recognition.

Among the flames and smoke, he saw a scene that would haunt him for the rest of his time in the games.

The burning, melting, golden Freddy, one hand splattered with blood, and the other dripping burned skin and flesh like wax.

At his feet were Izuku’s lower legs and part of his stomach, which he only now realized had been torn away.

He tried to gasp, to breathe, to speak.

Only blood dribbled from his mouth.

He could feel that spreading cold of bloodloss, feel his lungs burn with pain and lack of air.

And then, he could hear it. The faint sound ringing.

A chime.

6AM. Night 6 complete.

As the world faded away, he could only meet the Freddy’s blue, bloodshot eyes.

---

Now

Mei glanced up looking for her next tool in the still unfamiliar shop. Welder, printer, vices, Midoriya, engine lift, plasma torch, hydraulic- Wait.

She stopped her frantic turning, and twisted back to blink at the green haired teen leaning against the side of the engine lift, a file and a pair of damaged knives in his hand. As she looked at him, he paused and tilted to look out from under his hair at her.

She blinked and spoke. “You know where the CNC mill is?”

Midoriya raised the knife and tossed it across the workshop, Mei’s eyes tracking and zooming on the metal blade to see the damage mid air, before following it to where it embedded into the cork divider around a large table with- CNC!

She waved at Midoriya and wandered that way, already zoning back out into her comfy work mindset.

Watching the pink haired girl wander off, Izuku let out a single, breathless chuckle, before looking at the remaining damaged blade in his hand. Frowning slightly, he noted there was a crack he hadn’t seen earlier. Cursing silently, he set the knife on the counter, and considered his options.

Screw it, he could make his own knives.

He wandered back into the raw materials section of the lab, mouth still quirked in a frown as he glanced over the carefully sorted stock materials, before finding a long bar of tool-grade steel.

Grabbing the material, he pulled the meter long bar, tossing it in his grasp to get used to the weight.

His mental map told him where to go. A few minutes of looking around and he found the industrial metal forge, an anvil, and a collection of hammers. For a moment, reality shimmered.

Andre… Hammer on the forge as he worked tirelessly to arm those who would brave Sen's Fortress.

The voluntary locked away form of Rickert, content to hide as the world around him burned to ash.

The thick boned form of Vamos, immortal and focused, his skeletal form using hammers as if he never lost his muscles.

Even the massive form of the Giant Blacksmith, simple in words but focused and skilled with his massive hammer and anvil.

Blinking, the ghosts of his memories faded, but he still remembered.

He remembered hours of sitting, curled up in ragged cloth and fur in the corner of the warm forges, watching skilled work. Of watching as weakened weapons were turned into masterpieces, as new alloys were alloyed in. Of magical inlays, of new blades formed from the souls of enemies. Of the blacksmiths working the magic of steel.

Izuku figured this would be a good time to see what he had picked up. If not, he still understood enough engineering from the Ishimura, the Sevastopol, and the labs of Talos One. He had spent plenty of time huddled in corners, staving off an all but certain death while he read through manuals and books on engineering and hacking principles, writing chapters upon chapters about them in his notebook for future reference.

Stripping the blazer, vest, and shirt from his uniform with smooth motions, he stood only in his slacks, and a white tank top, snagging a thick leather smock and a pair of gloves from a hook to complete his outfit. He glanced down at the forge and blinked as a lock of hair fell free and hanged in front of his view. Rolling his eyes, he pulled it back, deft hands unwrapping the cord holding his hair up and retying it to hold the hair back in a small bun.

Done, he turned back to the forge, and with a minute of checking how it worked, lit it.

The smell of gas flared before igniting, making him flinch for the slightest of seconds as a memory flashed of a burning restaurant. Shaking the thought away, Izuku lifted the tool steel, and slid it into the flaming heart of the forge.

Turning, he took in the smithing area, eyes already plotting out where to stand and what he was going to use.

“Alright… let's get smithing.”

---

 

Time Night 7: 1:42 AM

Freddy Death count: 59

Izuku gasped in pain, reaching down and grabbing at the shattered steel that was embedded through his gut.

He screamed as it shifted, his grasp and attempt to slowly remove the mic stand shoved through his stomach only making him gush blood from an ever-widening wound.

Above him, the golden bear loomed, hand still holding tight to the bar pinning him to the stage.

Izuku cursed and snarled. He was dead this run anyway, but fuck if he was gonna give the bear the satisfaction.

He bared his teeth, spitting blood from where a broken incisor was, before his hands snapped up.

One on his jaw.

One on his skull.

And twist.

The world went black, before he woke back up in bed.

Death count: 60

He snarled, and walked out of the bedroom, still wearing the black shirt and jeans he had just died in. Marching to the computer desk, he summoned his notebook.

Flipping pages, he came to his entries on the golden bear, and began to add and refine details.

The bear was his last enemy before he could move on. He glanced at his reflection in the computer monitor, and reached up. His fingers traced the deep, black bags under his eyes. He could feel it, the tightness that seemed to cloud his thoughts, that same incessant energy and mania that had led to him wasting dozens of lives fucking around. He needed sleep. He needed some sort of rest, and stability… but until he finished Freddy’s, it would haunt him. He knew.

But he could feel the cracks in his sanity.

He needed to finish the last day soon.

Opening his notebook to the copied pages of an animatronic repair manual, Izuku got to work.

---

Now

Power Loader sighed as he heard the sounds of work happening in the first year lab. He grumbled, shoving the door open. He was expecting Hatsume to be at her ‘Babies’ again. And it wasn’t until he had started walking into the workshop that he realized there were two sources of noise. From the metalworking and welding station, flickering lights and the sizzling sound of an arc welder flashed. But, several stalls down, the deep orange glow of the forge and the ringing of hammer strikes boomed across the room.

Taking a deep breath, he wandered towards the forge first.

When he rounded the corner, however, Higari paused and took in the sight.

Midoriya, the kid who Nedzu warned the staff to be "gentle’’ around.

From what Power Loader was watching right now though, they didn’t need to be gentle.

The hammer rang smooth and consistent, the motions even and regular as the glowing bar held against the anvil was shaped into a rough blade. Next to him, three more rough knife-like shapes had been separated from the bar and sat, piled up for later attention.

The teen glanced up, Power Loader tilting his head and nodding to the forge. Glancing down, the teen gave a nod, sliding the metal that had become too cool to easily hammer back into the forge with a pair of tongs.

“Midoriya, you know how to smith?” Higari rubbed at his chin and glanced at the blades. They were rough, if he was right about which one had been made first, there was a very clear leap in skill between each one.

“I… picked up a bit. Is there a problem, Sir?”

“Hmm… you and Hatsume got to leave. It’s almost six. You can finish this last blade and then stash them in my office. Come back and finish them up when you got a chance.”

Midoriya glanced at the knives and nodded, before pulling the bar back out.

Power Loader left him to it, and wandered to where the sparks and mad laughter was.

---

Time Night 7: 3:23 AM

Freddy Death count: 64

Izuku glanced back and around the room. The door to the workshop had been barricaded and nailed shut using the workbench, but judging from the repeated hammering and the way it was deforming, he didn’t have a lot of time left. And that's not counting the variety of cracks appearing on the other walls from the rest of the animatronics trying to bust in.

He turned back and focused. He had the tools, there had to be a solution. The last four nights of deaths had started this way, and now he knew what he needed to do.

“Turn the tension lever here...” SLAM “Pull these two lines there-.” THUD “-that needs to connect to this? Works, great. Now-” Izuku glanced to see the top of the door was now disconnected, the golden fur of that fucking animatronic visible as its fist slammed into it.

“You know what, fuck it. This should work.”

Izuku stood up, hands and arms covered in blood as he lept and grabbed the bench, pulling up onto it and then up into the rafters. He knew they wouldn’t let him out of the room, but this way he could at least see the result. And see if he had just killed himself.

“Okay... Okay…” he took a deep breath before speaking clearly. “Wake up, Rocky Raccoon.”

Below him, a bloodied animatronic twitched, and shuddered.

“Shit.. WAKE UP!”

Another shudder, and the door caved further in.

“Dammit. Dammit! ...HEY PHONE GUY I COULD USE SOME FUCKING HELP!”

He glanced back just as the door crashed open, the bench torn away and shifting to show the evil fucking Gold Freddy.

And then, before the evil bastard could make another threat on his life, the sound of scraping echoed.

Purple fur, stained with deep brown splotches and bright red lines, shifted, legs gathering below it.

It was a racoon, purple fur and black masked face. On his head, was a black cowboy hat, and a leather jacket design was built around its chest. But around its arms, held on with tape and a few metal supports, long sharpened spikes reached past its wrists, and one hand held the still bloodstained Security hat, and the other the neck of a bright purple electric guitar that was clearly cracked and damaged, but was reinforced with metal bars and a thick plate of steel.

It seemed to stagger, tilting forward and crouching before it slowly rose, new gushing streams of blood dripping from its seams as it focused on Freddy.

“What have you done.”

Izuku, hanging limp in the rafters could only let out a dry chuckle.

“I called in back up… now to see if it works.”

The racoon held up the hat, and then, with surprising care, it knocked the large cowboy hat off, and hung the security hat on his ears… something like a growl, a deep echoing and evil sound came out. Izuku tensed. This was it. Was it security or was it another enemy.

With a squeak of metal, and a grind of bone being crushed under gears, Rocky charged. And the metal fist met Freddy’s face sharpened spike first.

Above, Izuku screamed, feeling a sense of satisfaction rise as the Golden Freddy staggered, face mask cracked and sparking.

“FUCKING YES!”

---

 

Now

Izuku woke with his pulse beating fast in his ears, one hand jerking up like an aborted punch.

It took a moment to register that the fight wasn’t actually happening. To let his eyes blink and flicker around, focusing as he glanced at the dark and faded colors of his room. Hero posters adorned the walls, most of them of All Might, his idol. Beyond that, the details that were once so familiar already sharpening even as his eyes found the numbers of his alarm clock.

1:41 AM.

He blinked slowly, and, pitched so soft that it didn’t even echo, a chuckle rang out. The sound was bitter, catching in his throat and jaws as he made it.

He pulled his covers off him, the thick comforters and blankets pooling behind him, as he stood, wearing only pajama bottoms. He stepped across the room, feet making no sound to give him away, even as he reached into his dresser for a thick sweater and jeans. He was not getting any more sleep tonight. Not after waking like that.

Pulling his clothes on, he slipped on a pair of house slippers, flimsy but soft, and his furry collared leather jacket. He breathed deep.

He had realized, once he was out, that scent was the hardest thing for the simulation to copy. It could do it, somewhat. But it was more taste. He rarely actually smelled decay, unless he stood among rotten corpses. Nor did he remember many other smells, unless he was, for instance, buried in a pile of sewage smelling shit and piss.

He had never really smelled the scent of sweat and leather, either.

Those first few days he was home, when he had finally gotten out of the hospital and people were talking about what he was supposed to do now, he had a panic attack. And the smell of his own sweat and the blood that spilled from clenched fists had snapped him out of it.

A frantic search had frightened his mother. But he had hunted down any sensations he hadn’t had in game. The smell of fresh citrus from an orange, that spongy texture of a bread roll, the actual feel of wood and the smell of sawdust.

He had found the jacket in his dad's closet. It was big on him, but not by much. His shoulders were broad enough, and he knew Hisashi Midoriya was slender and lean. Much like Izuku was now. The hems half covered his hands and reached almost to his knees, but it was a god send. A thick, fluffy collar that smelled of sweat and leather and cigar smoke. The rest of it smelling of old booze and his father’s deep and smokey scent, layered over a scent of old, cracked leather.

He had bundled up and fallen asleep in it, and had woken up refreshed and calm for the first time since the simulation. With it to help ground him, he quickly worked out how to drop to the same meditative state he had cultivated to handle resting when he couldn’t quite risk sleep.

Breathing deep of the jacket’s scent, he closed his eyes, and a blurry image of his father, of when his father was still alive and well, flared. Bright sapphire hued eyes and scratchy black fuzz for a beard, always burned away just around his mouth and nose. Thick rimmed black glasses, and curly black hair that hung to his ears in a mop of messy locks.

He remembered that his father always laughed with sparks and flames in his throat, cried and grumbled spewing wisps of smoke. He was light, and joy and smart cunning eyes… and then he died.

A villain attack… and he was caught in a bank when it went down.

Izuku tore from the memories, and uncurled from the depths of the jacket, adjusting it to fit, the collar high and concealing as Izuku sneaked through the house, his hand reaching out to grab a simple balisong knife from the dresser as he left his room.

He passed through the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and a succulent-looking apple from a basket before hitting the door, exiting the apartment with silence.

He glanced up, the sky dark and unassuming as his hand danced the blade and handles around fingers. He turned, not out of the apartments, but up, taking the stairs towards the roof.

Might as well get through some of his issues now.

He reached the top floor, and the balisong tripped the door latch and let Izuku through the maintenance door to the roof access.

Climbing up and onto the gravel roof, he stood and just stared.

A city at night sprawled out before him, half lit with neon lights and street lamps, and the glow of late night offices and moving cars. The wind howled as it swirled between buildings and around him.

It was so… alive.

Every game was so dead and deserted. People missing or panicked. Monsters roaming with no heroes to fight them.

But this city...

Musutafu and the rest of Tokyo, and its various neighborhoods? He could almost feel it, the faint beat and pulse and flow of life.

He stared out, and let his heart rate rise. Let the flickering phantoms and memories engulf him.

But he was focused. And the feeling of the city, the scent of his father, the howl of the wind.

He let it ground him.

And for a moment?

He could let his past fade.

---

Also Now
Deep in the bowels of the city, in the darkest alleys and abandoned houses and apartments, groups of villains gathering and speaking in low tones.

In a bar, pale blue hair hanging loose, Shigaraki Tomura went over his plans once more. He checked his variables, looked through his odds, the specs of his team and their various abilities and quirks.

He would have to improvise, of course. he knew as well as anyone how poorly raids could go.

Chapter 12: Crafting Menu

Summary:

Izuku stops playing around.

Curiosity pissed off the cat.

(Note: Curious, the reporter, is from the recent arcs of the Manga. Be warned for some very mild spoilers)

Now

“And why, exactly, did you want me to come to Tokyo all the way from Delka City to try and interview the new students of UA? I know about the rumor that All Might is teaching now, but that seems more like understudy and intern work. I could be out doing more investigation work, instead of staring at kids, Rikiya.” Kizuki Chitose glanced down the street, one hand on her hip as she spoke through her phone. She was standing in the shadow of a building about half a block from UA, staring with vague disgust at the crowd of desperate reporters that crowded the front gate. She had dressed somewhat work casual; a grey and black pleated skirt, a matching red dress shirt, and grey suit jacket.

“Ah, but Curious! I thought that you may want to know where one of your… interesting subjects had gone!”

She paused, and tilted her head, lips quirked up as she started to make the connections. “Really? And… who exactly is gonna show up?” her black sclera and red eyes narrowed, and she turned from the gate, her eyes taking in the features of the street she was on, and the crowds of passing pedestrians going by.

“Your favorite streaming kid.”

Her eyes widened, hearing Re-Destro hang up even as she saw him.

Black leather jacket hanging loose and heavy over his school uniform, sword bag hung on his shoulder. Loose, dark green hair that covered his features from passing attention, and that pale white skin color that made him look vaguely ill.

But she could see past that. Her mind filled in details, isolated emotions and instincts from what she could see. She could almost see the sheer aura that wreathed him. Skeletal figures that flickered and faded as she read the bloodlust and killing intent that seemed to boil and shift under his skin. Her lips curled into a soft smile, her eyes focused as she stared.

She could see it. A young man wreathed in violence and bloodshed, wrapped in his own chains to hold himself back.

‘I want to interview you… to know what you truly are. My readers would love you… or love to hate and pity you.’

She glanced down to close her phone and slide it into her purse, before looking back up to track her newest focus.

And froze, for just a second.

Green eyes, dark and half lidded, were staring her way, lips curled into a faint frown for a moment, even as he came closer and was moving to pass her towards the far more unorganized crowd of paparazzi that awaited.

His eyes apparently dismissed her, but the cold feeling as if a blade or gun was aimed her way only lessened, not vanished.

He passed her, and she gathered her courage, and spoke. “Midoriya Izuku, I would like to-”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t look at her anymore. “No. Leave me alone.”

“The People want to know!” she called, “They deserve to-”

She was suddenly face-to-face with him, and her words choked in her chest. His eyes weren’t cold anymore, but instead they felt like fire, like the endless darkness of the night above and a flame that wreathed and surrounded her.

‘My god, what killing intent is this?’

“Let me… make myself clear. The people deserve nothing from me. They don't get to demand a thing from me. And you don’t either. Fuck off.” The words were clipped, phrases separated by distinct pauses, but spoken softly. She could tell, that even now, his focus wasn’t all on her. Instead, he was intensely aware of the entire world around her, even as he gave her more attention.

And then, as sudden as that rush of danger had come, it vanished, the teen turning and now striding away, his stance shifted from the slow and measured pace he had earlier to a striding movement that held the promise of violence and destruction.

And it was enough that the reporters ahead of him seemed to stagger out of the way, and most could barely get a question off before he had passed through them into the gated entrance of UA.

Curious slumped to the side of the street, arms wrapping around her as she started shivering, shaking in response.

‘This… This fear… What kind of person must you be, to make me feel this much fear?’

Slowly, her lips pulled into a grin.

‘I can’t wait to interview you!’

---

Time: Night 7: 4:13 AM

Freddy Death count: 64

Izuku slid up and over the dining table even as the crash of animatronics echoed around him. The Golden Freddy smashed past him, missing an arm and half its head as the purple form of Rocky tackled it into the crumpled form of Bonny.

Rocky, however, was not looking good himself. The metal spikes had been ripped off, one left in the still-sparking corpse of Foxy near the stage, the other, and the arm he had it mounted on, had been left in the wall where the other Freddy had ripped it off after Rocky missed.

Izuku watched as Rocky tried to get up, only for Chika to crash into the pile, the form of Bonny being crumpled and bent in half under the weight of the other three animatronics.

And then Izuku had to move, leaping up and over another table and across the room as Freddy charged after him.

He darted past the sparking from of Foxy where it lay crumpled on the ground, leaping over it as he darted down the hall towards the security office, even as Freddy barreled after him.

He skidded, twisting early and letting his feet slide to catch at the end of the hallway, and he pushed up and leapt through the doors, Freddy slamming head-first into the end of the hallway behind him as it tried to slow and stop.

Izuku slammed the button, the door dropping even as Freddy turned to slam into it once more.

He didn’t stay there, he was already getting to his feet and charging down the far hallway, darting through the kitchen where he reached out, hands twisting every gas valve on the stove to max and snuffing out the pilot lights.

He was ending this tonight.

---

Now

Katsuki stretched, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. His fight the day before had been stressful, and blasting Ice Boy’s constructs apart had only made it worse, the cold tensing up his muscles faster than he was used to. Even now, a day later, he felt stiff. Growling to himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets before kicking the half-opened class door out of his way and striding in.

Half a dozen students were in the class and chatting, mostly about powers and the reporter fucks outside.

Bakugou ran his gaze over the gather-

‘Oh fuck.’

Steel sharpened into a razor point. Green hair and eyes. An expression that, on a normal person, could be referred to as… mildly annoyed.

And Midoriya’s assigned seat was behind him.

‘Oh double fuck.’

He calmly and quietly headed for his desk, carefully ignoring the flashing flickers of steel or the faintly threatening but undirected expression. He slid his bag under the table, crouched forwards over crossed arms, and began to try and breathe slowly and quietly. He did not want to draw out Izuku’s cold fury right now.

A balisong danced less than a meter from the back of Katsuki’s head, and part of him was screaming.

‘Who is the moron with a death wish that pissed off the nerd?!?’

As the rest of the class came in, there was a clink and snap of steel against steel, and the faint whirring sound of the balisong vanished.

Glancing back for a second, he saw Izuku sitting with his eyes closed, the balisong hidden who-knows-where.

Bakugou focused back ahead as homeroom began.

---

Time: Night 7: 5:01 AM  

Freddy Death count: 64

Izuku glanced at the camera bank, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. He had made his way back to the security office for a minute, locking himself in, but the cameras showed the scene.

Rocky had done well. The animating force of the Security Guard pushing it hard enough that it fought until it was torn apart. But in the end, it got beaten. Both Freddies were currently tearing it apart, leaving the purple parts left scattered amongst the shattered tables and destroyed stage.

Izuku breathed deep and took stock.

Bonnie, crushed and folded nearly in half. Dead.

Foxy, still twitching in the hallway with a spike pinning it to the floor and missing arms. Dead.

Chika, missing both legs and half its head, but still dragging itself around. Injured.

Freddy Fazbear the first, Currently the most intact animatronic. Surface damage to panels and missing its left hand, but not the rest of the arm. Alive.

And the last, the Golden Freddy. Half crushed and missing its face and left arm. Legs are damaged, but not unusable. The chest panels had been ripped off, and servos were clicking and beating, like a grotesque parody of a human heart. Alive, but severely injured.

Izuku felt his pulse, the frantic but focused beat of wardrums in his ears.

Chika was resting, her maimed form watching the hallway past the kitchen…

But he could make it past her.

Izuku glanced at the power and frowned.

8%...

He opened the doors and turned off the computer. The lights would stay on, but now the office wasn’t safe.

Turning, he started running through the far hall, glancing out at the dining hall to see the two Freddies stand and begin to stagger his way.

Reaching around the door into the workshop, he grabbed the blowtorch and darted out into the main room, already lighting the fire and letting the flame spread across wooden tables and paper napkins as he darted around the room.

“YOUUUUU!”

Izuku couldn’t help it. The menacing voice, the deep grinding and ticking of gears, the shattered golden fur plates.

He laughed, even as he kicked a burning table aside to light another section of the room on fire, feeling the heat and smoke build around him.

“Yeah. me. Hiya assholes.”

Izuku darted to the side as the original Freddy lunged his way, smashing into the burning seating that was behind the teen even as it simple tossed more foam and shards of wood around.

The Golden Freddy was slower, staggering up and slowly after him.

“YOU. YOU CHEAT! YOU HACKING DISOBEDIENT CHILD!!!”

“Wow. what a varied vocabulary,”

Izuku leapt over another table, kicking off and skipping to another as both Freddies smashed towards him. A last leap took him to the half destroyed staged, where he glanced down at the shattered and torn apart Rocky.

“KILL YOU…. KILL YOU AGAIN! AND AGAIN!”

The Golden Freddy was twitching, as the regular variant kept charging, clearly caught up in some form of repeated focus.

Izuku turned off the torch in his left hand, before he reached down and dove aside as the stage where he had stood caved in once more.

As he popped up behind the Golden Freddy, and then back stepped away to watch it smash the nearby area with a crazed frenzy. Reaching up, he pulled the hat he had grabbed on tight, ignoring the rough bloodstains that half covered the ‘Security’ Logo.

“Sorry. I’m done here.“

He turned and sprinted, leaping up and over the sneaking form of Chika and darting past the kitchen door, on the far side of the room from the growing inferno.

He could hear the hissing sound, and remembered the last time he had tested this.

Half an hour had passed, right?

He stood in the entrance to the hallway, and spread his arms wide.

“Congrats Golden boy! You get to see the world’s greatest funeral pyre! One fit for the franchise!”

The Golden Freddy and his allies advanced, shifting and smashing through tables and seats as they closed in. Izuku took a step back for every three they covered his way. Both Freddies were pacing together, through spread apart to catch him if he tried to get past, while Chika was moving to the far side.

But he was fine with that.

“YOU SHALL DIE, JUST LIKE THE SECURITY GUARD!”

Izuku breathed deep, and glanced back. He was almost at the security office. It was down, if his math was right, to a mere 5 or 6 percent.

Good thing he only needed that door for a few seconds.

He coughed, tasting smoke, as he crouched, one hand holding the propane canister behind him as the other drew his last trick from his pocket.

He waited, and when both Freddies filled the doorway, marching his way, he saw it. The timing lined up.

From behind his back, a ziptie holding the trigger down, the lit and on full blast blowtorch ignited.

A toss, aimed not at the Animatronic bears, but at the carefully left ajar gap of the Kitchen.

Izuku darted into the security room and slammed the button for the door.

He was too slow.

The roar of flame and pressure knocked him off his feet even as the door began to slide shut, the plexiglass of the small window next to the door outright shattered, leaving only the thin wire weaving that had reinforced it.

Izuku was dazed, blinking as he stood up.

The door opened, the lights going out as the power cut out, but he could see just fine, thanks to the flickering firelight that danced around the hallway.

He glanced around and chuckled, seeing the half torn apart form of something down the hall.

“FUCK YOU!”

He laughed, and laughed… before stopping, face paling.

The animatronic pile, under the flame sparked and shifted, and an arm slammed down.

“Shit. No. No no nononono. Fuck this. Fuck this goddamn bullshit.”

From under the original Freddy Fazbear, the golden version, missing its face, wreathed in flame and melting plastic, began to push itself up, flames licking off the last of its fur, its body twisted.

“SHit, time, time time-”

He glanced for the clock, finding it cracked on the ground. But the number was visible.

5:44 AM.

“-16 minutes… that's fine… I can do 16…”

Another sound, another crackle and click, and the other Freddy started slowly rising, smoke and flames billowing around a completely shattered frame, as it staggered up.

“Oh… Oh that is some bullshit.”

No more words… no more taunts or promises, came his way.

Instead, the animatronics began to advance.

Izuku darted out the other side, leaping over the advancing Chika before it could respond and back into the holocaust that was now the dining room.

From here he could see it, the entire wall leading to the kitchen was gone, blown away. Only the remaining walls of concrete and brick around the outside were intact.

Izuku pulled up his bandanna, the black cloth around his nose, as he leapt into the flames.

He had to survive. And while the heat would be torment, the dining room had the most room to move. He could feel the ache in his legs, the sharp pain of ash and smoke in his chest. His skin reddened and ached from the heat.

‘15 minutes… come on… 15 minutes of hell.”

He could do it.

He had to.

---

Now

“I don’t care how, but you need a Class Rep. Decide amongst yourselves.” even as Aizawa rolled over in his sleeping bag, the class erupted into shouting.

Well most of the class.

Within the first 30 seconds. Several things happened.

Bakugou, faced with the potential leadership opportunity flared up, any reservations about being quiet discarded as his pride took the floor.

Behind him, an ‘vaguely’ calm Izuku was rapidly replaced by a far more terrifying version, his pulse spiking even as he had to focus, ignoring the responses his body wanted to preform.

Several other students also flinched down and away from the sounds. Koda, shy as he was, hunched down deeper into the desk, the shiny hawk from the day before, a ‘Black Kite’ who had taken the nickname ‘Kuro’ fluttering up to his shoulder and looking ruffled. Jiro, but a few seats from the explosives using blonde and the horde of eager applicants flinched and slammed her hands to her hears to try and cut off some of the noise pollution. Todoroki, stull sullen in the back corner, also flinched, glancing away with and unreadable expression.

For those 30 seconds, chaos reigned. Shouts of promises and desires, reasons why they, in particular were the best choice.

Before with an aggravated sigh, someone cut it off at the throat.

A wave of intent, cold and deadly and fatal.

The voice was barely louder than a normal conversational tone, but the intent made it cut through the rest of the noise.

“Everyone needs to shut the fuck up now.”

Most people had heard the voice only in passing. It didn’t often gossip, it had few friends. And usually it was softer and more hesitant.

Right now, it was none of those things.

For the first time, most of 1-A got to see Izuku with emotion.

It was terrifying.

The cool and calm demeanor was cracked, a seething rage lurking underneath a layer of ice and blood. Even as people froze and flinched back, he was already standing. A split second of his gaze sweeping the room followed, before with a twist of his shoulders and a shifting of expression, Izuku was once more unreadable. His expression was now closed off and set in a bored and apathetic mask.

Instead of saying anything else to his classmates, Izuku simply walked out of the room, only taking the time to call out to his teacher.

“I’m heading to the restroom, sensei.”

Aizawa was watching carefully. His black eyes seeming to flicker and catch red glints as he watched the teen stride out of the room, hands sliding in pockets and shoulders shifting to show a lack of energy.

But Aizawa could see it, the building tension along the spine and into his neck, the energy and shift of his feet for a fighting stance.

He didn’t approve of that flare of killing intent, but he did approve of the teen recognizing when he had to back off and get some air.

Speaking of.

“You all need to figure out the class reps still. Get too it.”

---

Time: Night 7: 5:58 AM

Freddy Death count: 64

Izuku ducked under a burning support beam from the ceiling, wincing as the heat seared across his side before he popped up at the far side, glancing around for another way out. His shirt was already reduced to nothing but ash in a few places, the skin beneath cracked and weeping from blisters where ash and fire had shifted and caught him. As he darted back to the shadow of the wall around the security office, the bricks blackened but not destroyed, he heard it.

The chime.

6:00 AM

Like a light switch, the flames vanished, the world cast into dark as the flames receded to show only a deep orange glow from the veins of embers that remained, in the center of the dining area, the charred remains of the Golden Freddy staggered, and began to dissolve. Rust spread across its skin, as it's far too human eyes glared at Izuku.

“You… Should have…. Died….. Here….”

With those last words, the form began to collapse into dust under its own weight, before the rest of the world around him faded out to black.

With a jolt, Izuku blinked, finding himself laying on the podium.

On the screen, a new message had appeared.

Simulation: Day 44 Hour 16:34:10

Death count: 124

Music Player Unlocked.

Izuku ignored that for a moment, and scrolled to the side, focusing on the new game.

“What is… Outlast?”

Chapter 13: Surprise Round Encounters

Summary:

Izuku fights to stay sane,
The Asylum welcomes him with bloodied hands
Different paths lead to different fights.

Now

Izuku took a long shuddering breath, closing the door to the restroom behind him as he paced up to the sink, running his hands under the water of the tap. He ignored his reflection. Experience told him that it would have something in it that wasn’t real.

The cool shock helped snap the edges of his insanity loose, drawing it out, giving him something to grip and tear the hallucinations and memories loose away with. His heart rate was slowing, thankfully, but the sheer chaos of the classroom, the overarching conversations… Izuku sighed and glanced down, frowning to see the faintest tinge of red to the water. Pulling his hands out, he glanced and hissed in annoyance at the sight of a long red rip across his palm. He had clenched it for a sword, hadn’t he? It seems his flinching had dragged a nail across his skin.

Clenching his hand, he breathed deep and began to slowly flex and twist, beads of red that seemed to darken as they bloomed from his skin. From a bright murderous crimson to a more faded, muted red.

Looking at the newly formed scab over his palm, he sighed and ran it under the sink once more, rinsing the last of the blood away to show only the dark line of what most would guess was a few hours old scab.

Wiping his hands off, he left the restroom.

He felt… better. The injury was a suitable hook to draw his focus.

He winced at that thought. The context of self harm, of any variety, being a way to deal with his problems was a slippery slope. The fact he knew he had the capability to hurt himself if he needed to… it was better to not dwell on it. The fact remains, injury and pain was not something he could rely on. His mind wandered to other vices to draw his attention, and one came to mind easily, if not being something he could acquire legally.

He sighed and slid his hands into his pockets, walking back to class, a small wistful whine drifting behind him as he cursed his luck.

“God, I wish I could have a smoke right now.”

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he reached up and carded his fingers through his hair, and set about dropping his heart rate. 

---

 

“Is Hunter-Human angry?”

Koji glanced up from the conversations of the rest of the class. The hawk, who had taken the name Kuro after some discussion, had shown up on his shoulder just inside the gates, and hitched a ride into the class for now. He had cleared it with Aizawa as training a possible animal companion for class exercises, and gotten the ok to bring the raptor with him through classes.

Glancing at Kuro, he took in it dark feathered coat, and the way its head was focused on the door where Midoriya had left. The bird had been quiet for most of the morning, though attentive as Koji explained things to it in his soft undertones.

Speaking softly, Koji let his quirk fill his voice, translating it to the bird. “Um… I think he’s just annoyed. Lot’s of noise probably hurt his head.”

Kuro tilted his head and glanced down at Koji. “Is this not his territory? Is he not the strongest of the Human?”

Koji hummed as he considered how to explain, before nodding as he figured it out. “New territory for all, Midoriya is... New to area. Unsure.”

Kuro seemed to ponder this, and at the front of the class, the votes were being tallied up.

Koji glanced at the few people that had more than one vote.

Bakugou: 2

Iida: 2

Yaoyorozu: 3

While Yaoyorozu seemed to be surprised at her success, Iida and Bakugou had gotten up and were both clearly discontent with the tie. If Koda was focused on the conversation. He may have not noticed it, but behind him, a shifting sound, so faint it was nearly imperceptible. Koji glanced back, and his eyes widened as behind the tall and broad shouldered teen that sat behind him, Koda could see the lean frame of Midoriya leaning against the wall with his cold and blank mask on tight.

A flicker of motion, and Kuro swooped from his shoulder down and then up, the green haired teen only barely raising his arm in time to provide a perch. For a moment, Midoriya’s expression was one of faint bewilderment, before he reached up and slowly preened the hawks feathers.

Koda turned back to the front of the class with a feeling of relief, only to catch sight of Jiro also glancing back with a curiously.

The rest of the class was still focused forwards, as the tension between Bakugou and Iida began to rise.

“We can clearly debate this in private or share the duty! There’s no need for us to further compli-”

“Like Hell am I sharing a job with you. I should be the shitty Vice President.”

“Language! I’m seriously wond-”

“Enough! Both of you! We’ll do another vote than! All three of us! Winner gets president, second get vice, third gets Secretary! Does that work for you?” Yaoyorozu managed to break it up, and the class once more began scrawling down votes.

As they were passed forwards, Koda blinked as Kuro landed on his shoulder once more, a slip of paper in its beak. Adding Midoriya's vote to the pile, it was passed forwards once more.

As the students began to tally up the points, Koda saw a flicker of green movement, tracked by Kuro’s head as it twitched, and with a strange ease of motion, Midoriya was once more sat in his seat, silhouetted by the window beyond him.

Koda frowned and focused on scratching Kuro’s head. Hopefully his friend had found some calm with his departure.

---

 

Katsuki glared at the final tally on the board.

11 points to the Rich Girl made sense. She had stood up and seemed on top of her shit, unlike most of the extras.

But the issue was the scores between him and the High Class asshole.

5 for Iida, and only 4 for Katsuki.

Snarling at the insult, Katsuki turned, about to open his mouth, before snapping his jaw shut tight and hissing out a tight breath, before speaking.

“Fine, I’m the Secretary.”

Iida nodded and shifted his glasses, an expression of mild surprise and confusion in his red eyes. “Yes, of course. A pleasure to work with you, Bakugou.”

“And a pleasure to work with both of you two!” The refined tone made both of them glanced to the side where Yaoyorozu had already cleaned the board. Finished, she stepped between both teens and addressed the class. “Thank you. Everyone for your support and assistance in choosing for us!”

A variety of mild cheers and smiles greeted them, and Katsuki had to admit, Rich Girl had some skills with the people. He glanced around and met a pair of focused green eyes, and lips which twitched into the faintest proud smirk, before smoothing away to cool indifference.

Bakugou felt his heart clench. The two of them were on unstable ground, on shifting sand in a storm… but the fact that Izuku approved of him was something he wasn’t used to. Nor was he in the habit of looking for it.

As the cheers faded, Yaoyorozu spoke up once more.

“We should sit, it is Sensei’s hour, and we’ve wasted plenty of time.” she shoved both of them gently, and the three teens broke to find their way to their desks.

With that, Aizawa seemed to wake up, and the class began.

---

Simulation: Day 45 Hour 7:03:11

Death count: 124

Izuku laid down, and waited for the simulation chair to open the menu.

He had spent a day or so simply sleeping and messing with his new music feature. The sheer fact that he had the music menu was weird. It had offered a ‘thematic sync’ option for when he was in the game, but he could also set up and adjust playlists of various other songs, or select specific genres.

He had it set to a low jazzy soundtrack right now, but it was set to be thematic when he entered the game.

Focusing, he spoke the words.

“Outlast.”

He felt the now familiar rush, of a world around him fading to be replaced.

He blinked, and suddenly he was sitting in the driver's seat of a jeep, the darkness of an early evening covering the sky, while before him a gate and a looming complex sat, ominous in the dark. He stared at it, and reached down to turn on the jeep.

And of course it didn’t start.

Welp.

Izuku glanced around, eyeing the Press Pass badge hanging from the rearview mirror that had his face and name with a measure of curiosity, before moving on.

On the passenger seat, a file and a video recorder sat waiting, along with a half empty pack of AA batteries.

Izuku picked up the video recorder, giving it a cursory investigation before setting it down to check the papers. The first was a set of googled directions: showing a round from the Colorado airport to a place called ‘Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane’. Just that alone was enough to make Izuku roll his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, asylum, crazy inmates… what else.”

The third and fourth pages were short biographies about the asylum and its current parent corporation. The asylum had been opened mid 1900’s, then closed after a series of deaths. It was reopened in 2009… which Izuku was betting was not far before his current in game timeline. The company in charge, on the other hand, was looking to be an issue. Murkoff, an international company specializing in Military research, weapons and tech development, and surprise surprise psychiatric care. He flipped to the last page, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Someone blew the whistle.” He summoned his own notebook and started marking down terms to investigate. First off, he needed to keep an eye out for Murkoff and any files on them. Follow up with looking into the psychiatric testing, hunt down where the computers are and see if Izuku could find the whistleblower, or if not him, than whatever he left behind. Beyond that… Izuku was curious what his job was here. There wasn’t a simple ‘survive or die’ test… but he got the implication it was implied. Glancing around the rest of the car, he noticed he had a watch on, one with a touch screen.

Tapping it, he quickly found he had a message.

And on it, his mission.

‘Investigate Mount Massive Asylum.’

Well. that was unhelpfully vague.

Grabbing the camera, he slid the files into his notebook, the loose pages seamlessly fusing into the leather spine, the information just one more page. Sending the notebook away, he focused on searching the rest of the jeep. Everything from pening the glovebox and glancing through papers there, to bending down and looking under the seats in the rest of the jeep, he found a shoulder bag, and a variety of assorted junk. Two packs of gum, both mint. A small kit of bandages and disinfectant. A penlight. A bottle of half drunk water. Annoyingly, no mechanics tools. No wheel kit either. Stashing all his bits and bobs away, he stepped out and glanced over the camera, fiddling with it to open the menu and its options.

“Record… memory… battery meter, that’ll be fun… and… an infrared option..”

He held it up to see how night vision looked through the scope, and frowned. That was all but useless. Unless there was absolutely no light, he would be able to see without it.

Regardless. He slid the camera into his pocket, and glanced around the little gated entrance he was standing in. A glance in the guard post revealed that the computer was password protected. Regardless, he rifled through the desk and glanced around, finding another AA battery, several pencils he shoved in his bag, and more rolls of bandages. Taking one last attempt at the computer and restarting it, didn’t get him pass the password.

“Well. no way to go but onwards.”

Hiking the bag up, he jogged lightly up the last of the drive to the gate, a gentle shove swinging the wrought iron door to the side wide open.

Glancing around now that his eyes were adjusting, he saw something that gave him pause.

Military grade vehicles, all three of them bearing the Murkoff logo, and no military personnel. Which probably meant they were all either dead or worse, and that any left were going to try and kill Izuku. He glanced through them and found all three trucks were locked up tight.

Rolling his eyes at the lack of supplies he could grab, Izuku turned back and looked over the building, walking up to try and open the front door.

Locked. Great.

Stepping back, he looked over the rest of the large victorian style building, before wandering around the front of the building, looking over stone walls and through gates before eyes caught on an open window above him and to the side, with conveniently placed scaffolding leading up to it.

“Well. that's awfully convenient. And here I thought I would need to break a window.” glancing around the front garden once more, Izuku jogged over to the gate, eyes narrowing as he found the lower half of one of the wrought iron entrances was twisted back, leaving an opening.

“Yeah… rule one is gonna be don’t use those.”

He stepped back to get some speed and lunged up the wall, running shoes gripping granite and mortar to send his body up, where his fingers found a grip.

A tug, a swing, and he perched on the wall, looking down into the next courtyard. Glancing around still showed no actual people, so he gently dropped down and moved through the area. started climbing the scaffolding. As he did, he blinked, noticing that the music he had been listening too had changed to a very soft very quiet piano track. The music was so soft that at first, he had barely been able to hear it, but as he got closer, the music got steadily more and more onious and vaguely discordant.

getting up the scaffold was easy, and at the top he pulled himself in the broken window, getting a clear view of broken furniture, scattered chairs… and a massive bloodstain.

And on cue, the light flickered and died, casting the room into darkness.

“Oh, fuck you.”

---

Now

Izuku was absolutely fine with not being a class officer. He was having a hard time adapting to be a student, thank you. Regardless, as the classes wore on, Izuku got to see heroes teaching once more. The first class, Cementoss’s literature class, went by peacefully. The construction hero was relaxed and non-judgemental, and had gone over his class syllabus with clear instructions. They would have some essays and such throughout the year, but most of the homework would be reading and a few questions.

The problems Izuku had been dealing with came roaring back with a vengeance sooner than he wanted though. The newest issue started in the last class of the morning.

English with Present Mic.

Izuku had been prepared for this, had realized that some of his teachers would be loud, and excited, and vocal.

But by the gods he wanted to cut Present Mic’s head off in under 20 minutes.

The man would not shut up. He talked. Loud in fast. A rapid mix of japenese followed by a rolling storm of english as he asked questions and wrote answers about what people would learn.

By the time class had come to a close, izuku was all but shaking with the effort of keeping his pulse slow. He was surprisingly hallucination free, for the moment, and with the rest of the class gathering their things, izuku slid his gear together and slipped out with the ringing of the bell.

Like the day before, he slid into the cafeteria with a minimum of fuss, and before people could grab his attention or ask to talk, he and his tray of food were back out in the halls, heading to find somewhere quiet to eat.

Behind him, two different girls watched him leave for two different reasons.

---

Then

A click and hum of the camera coming on, was followed by Izuku glancing around, one eye through the IR viewfinder, the other wide open in the darkness.

“Now. where to go….”

Across the room a door was ajar, a sliver of light spewing from the gap across the bloodied floor.

Stepping around the bloodstain, he lowered the camera and glanced out and around the hall, seeing crashed cabinets and shelves blocking the hallway around him, and an open door across the hall.

He stepped carefully out, eyes sharp and ears perked for anything… but aside from the slow background music, there was nothing.

He cut through the room across from him, glancing up at the static of a TV as he slid past chairs, glancing around for anything he thought could be useful. Seeing nothing that really could help him, he headed through another door into the hallway past the first blockade. Sliding through a gap in the shelves he came out next to two office looking rooms, both with locked computers…. But there was a file.

He walked in silently and flipped it open, seeing a few pictures of a man, all shot mugshot style, and a single memo. His notebook came out and he jotted his own notes to check later, even as he glanced over the doc.

“Lets see… Walrider project notes…. ‘WPM’, nickname Billy… isn’t that short for William? ‘William P. M.’ maybe… Note for later. ‘Lucid Dreaming’ ‘Morphogenic Engine’” he didn’t recognize any of the medical terms that followed, but flipping it over gave him another name and a lead on what was going on. ‘Blood Dreams?’ ‘some sort of mindreading quirk?’ ‘Richard Trager, Murkoff Exec’

Sliding the docs into his notebook and vanishing it back to the system, Izuku rummaged through the offices, finding only a battery to add to his growing collection of AA’s.

He headed further down the hall, towards a door out towards the main entrance hall he had circled from the outside, and froze as a door to the restroom closed to his left. He stepped slow and quiet, tensed to move, eyes glancing in the room across from the bathroom to note a large vent, and bloodstains, in the midst of what must be a breakroom kitchen of some variety.

He glanced around, and then froze as shouting and running came his way from the glass door.

He gave it just a second of consideration, before turning. A foot off the crashed table, fingers wrapping on cool rough metal, and a smooth twist, and he was crouched in the vent, feet spread to lessen his weight as he slid through the duct work. As the door banged open, glass shattering over the hall, he froze, looking through a half closed grate as a figure with a shaved head slammed into the break room, glancing around before growling something unintelligible, slamming the door behind them as they left.

Heart hammering with adrenaline, Izuku held himself quiet as he tried to breath soft and slow, lowering his pulse so he could hear clearly past the drumbeat in his veins.

Looking through the vent, Izuku decided to keep going through. This would lead down towards the main door, and that was where he would hopefully find some more clues.

---

Now

Izuku spun his chopsticks absentmindedly as he sat, sprawled across a windowsill up on his classes floor. The Heroics classroom floor was rarely used outside of homeroom and the actual Heroics classes themselves. Most of the other classes were on the floors below, with the general education students classrooms and homerooms below that.

He was looking out over the campus behind UA, the sprawling fields and groves of tree’s, and the distant testing grounds that stood in the distance.

As such, his first warning something had gone wrong was the sudden ring of an emergency siren through the hall. The sound was familiar, yet different, to those he had heard before, but as he stood up, hand sliding into his pocket and food forgotten, his body remembered how to respond.

His pulse began to rise, rushes of chemicles through his body chasing the lingering ache to vanish as muscles began to tense and shift. His eyes dilating to take in more light, the world seems to become oversaturated as he let his attention wander.

And then, one of the doors opened and a figure in a hoodie strode out.

‘That's the 1-A heroics classroom?’

“Fucking bots are so easy to trick.” came a soft scratchy chuckle.

Izuku narrowed his eyes and his balisong came sliding loose from his back pocket.

Apparently that was enough of a sound though, even with the loud sirens that echoed through the building..

A spin and backstep and the figure was facing Izuku, half crouched and hands held out low and wide.

“What do we have here? An NPC wandered into the mission!”

Face to face, Izuku could gauge his new opponent. Sharp red eyes stared out from under loose strands of silvery blue hair, and a medical mask covered the rest of the face. From his posture, voice and size, izuku was guessing that this was an older teen, maybe early twenties.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” Izuku called out, hand flipping the balisong around and swinging it open to rest comfortably as he slowly strode towards the intruder, who slowly stepped back in pace, eyes narrowed.

“You know, this is a surprise. I never thought of all people that the Simulation Killer would show up in UA.”

Izuku stiffened, twitching with the desire to strike at that name.

The name that reporters had coined for him when he left the simulation.

“I think you need to surrender.” Izuku picked up the pace, even as the other guy stopped, seemingly satisfied with his position.

“I don’t know. I think I'd rather finish the mission. Gotta get that completion rate-!”

Izuku moved at the last word. A jerking rapid motion that drew him close, knife held up at his shoulder and cocked for a jab as he got close.

As the blade twitched to begin they both blurred into high speed action. The point of the blade, and Izuku himself, rushed for the intruder, swiping for the chest before flicking towards the legs, and then a rapid frenzy of focused and debilitating strikes.

The bluenett dodged or deflected every last one, before with a twitch he reached up, and slid his hand along the blade as it passed him by.

In a second, the blade had vanished, leaving dust in its wake even as the two disengaged, both quietly catching their breath. Sparing a glance, Izuku scowled to see that the few fragments of blade he had left were cracked and rusted. The metal had seemed to dissolve under the other man's grip, and even now was slowly flaking away..

Dropping the now useless handle, he looked up, and saw red eyes.

“Nice quirk. Disintegration. Considering how you grabbed it… lets say a five point touch?” Izuku reached back, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword strapped at his side.

The shake of the older teens shoulders was a muffled laugh, but his eyes gleamed with intensity. “I gotta say, Player, you always were fast on the grab!”

Behind the other teen, a coiling portal of black smoke spun into existence, slowly flickering and drawing in the light. Izuku narrowed, as the words made things clearer.

This person… was one of the watchers. He had watched the livestream.

Izuku could only take a step, sword coming sliding up several inches from the sheath, before the bluenette stepped through the portal, his parting words echoing back.

“See you around, gamer.”

Izuku watched as the portal closed, his free hands fingers clenched over the back of his belt where his throwing knives or gun would have been… if he hadn’t kept them in his hero uniform the day before.

Breathing deep and slow, he let his pulse stagger and drop.

But in his chest, a familiar feeling was growing.

This was the start of something big. Something dangerous.

The click of his sword settling back in the sheath echoed even as he turned to his food, grabbing the tray. He headed down towards the cafeteria, ignoring the echoes of sirens as he considered his next step. He would let sensei know, and then… he would spend some time in the shop.

He needed to get ready for things to go wrong.

Behind him, the handle of the balisong slowly turned to dust.

Chapter 14: Menu Management

Summary:

Rules of engagment...
and the Politics of starting a war.

“Someone with a disintegration quirk just got inside the building.”

Aizawa stared at the teen with wide eyes.

To be fair, he wasn’t expecting the kid to track him down just as he headed out of the teachers' lounge, and with a look that said he was 30 seconds from starting a fight. Then the words clicked and his eyes narrowed.

“What happened.”

The green eyes glanced up with piercing energy that had been… undirected before now. “Less than a minute after the alarm went down, a teen came out of the 1A homeroom. He was probably early 20’s at max. Red eyes and pale blue, silver hair. His skin was rough, but he had a face mask so I couldn’t tell if he had scarring or something else. He mentioned that it was easy to cause a distraction. I confronted him.”

Aizawa fought back the instinctive beratement for that. Despite his age, he knew the teen in front of him was skilled and seasoned enough to pass most Hero’s when they graduated. His skill in combat wasn’t the question.

“The intruder recognized me from the simulation livestreams, made some comments. I tried to stab him with a blade before he managed to use his quirk. Some form of tactile disintegration, seems to be a five point like Uraraka-san.”

Aizawa filed the information away, even as the severity of the situation slowly rose in his thoughts.

“Where is he now? How did he escape?”

At this, Midoriya scowled slightly. “A warp gate Quirk, looks like a cloud of swirling black smoke. Someone else must have been assisting him. He left me with a parting comment about how he would see me around, and left.”

Aizawa breathed in deep and exhaled. “First things first, did you check the room?” “No. I’m not trained for crime scene investigation and decided priority was searching for you or another teacher who was calm and collected.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, getting a deadpan stare back.

“Alright. Step one? Classes are currently suspended until we can get the students outside accounted for. Go join them. I’m going to Nedzu. Is there anything else you have for me?”

Midoriya paused even as he started to turn away, before speaking soft and clear.

“I can feel a tension… like things are going to get violent fast and soon.” His expression sharpened. “I’d be ready for a fight in the next few days.”

Aizawa watched as the teen walked off, and rubbed his eyes.

“God, I’m too tired for this bullshit.”

And with that, he headed off to try and find Nedzu.

---

 

Koda glanced nervously around the field as the various classes grouped up. The siren had been shocking and the crush and thriving mass of people had freaked him, and Kuro, out. Even now, the hawk was circling high above, gliding around campus.

The quiet teen glanced over at where Bakugou, Iida, and Momo stood conversing quietly, the dark haired girl looking uneasy while a clipboard in her hand held a quickly sketched class roster.

He could remember very clearly how Iida and Bakugou had… dealt with the panic.

The flare of explosions that stunned the crowds, before Iida had stood on a table and shouted orders and information. Bakugou shouting expletives when groups started shouting back, letting Iida get control.

Momo had formed an airhorn and was helping direct traffic down the hall at that point.

Now, outside, it seemed her nerves were getting the better of her as she was looking for the last member of her class.

And then, as Kuro swooped down and came in for a landing, the missing member was suddenly there.

And something about him was setting Koda on edge. It wasn’t the usual vibe that Koda had come to recognize as something similar to a wild predator, nor was it the uneasy vibe of tension that class had sparked earlier this morning.

No, something about Izuku Midoriya… was waiting.

Koda’s thoughts got cut off as the new class secretary turned and narrowed in on him. “Deku! Where the fuck were you!” Bakugou’s shout caught the gaze of half the class where they were milling around.

A glance and Izuku shifted his path from the general shuffle of his class to the three officers. He came to rest facing the three teens with his arms crossed, his sword slung low, and Kuro perched on his shoulder. “I was enjoying some quiet. Had to talk to Aizawa, as well.”

Momo nodded, even as Bakugou bit back a comment. “Of course, Midoriya-san. We should be returning to class soon enough.”

Midoriya nodded and strode pass them, one hand gently caressing the hawk on his shoulders nape.

Koda nodded as Midoriya stood next to him. -It seems you left quite the impression on Kuro-

A blink, and a slight twitch of the lips, before hands came up. -Kuro? You named the ‘Black Kite’ Kuro?-

A flush across rocky skin. -He liked it! And it’s simple.-

-It’s fine… he’s happy?- Izuku’s eyes were curious, and somewhat haunted, his fingers… hesitant to ask the question.

-Yep. He’s offered to help us out more often, and I got permission to train him as a hero companion.- Koda was happy, and was more than glad to see the faintest hint of a smile across Izuku’s face.

-Cool.-

“ALL STUDENTS! THE ALERT IS OVER, YEAAHHH!! HEAD BACK TO CLASSES YA’LL!” the boom that was present Mics announcement left half the classes flinching from sheer volume, and brought a level of tension to Midoriya’s frame as he half turned, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

Regardless, as the push of students began, the green haired teen fell back, choosing to pace in Koda’s larger shadow, body half turned to watch his back as the two fought past the growing crowd to class.

---

Then

Izuku dropped from the vent to land gently on the upper level of the entry hall, the upper floor hall was ringed and looked down on the desks and computers that sat below. A glance to either side, showed more barricades, but under the vent was a cracked open door.

Glancing around, Izuku stepped to the side, and frowned. He could…. Taste something in the air. Why did it taste almost like copper?

He gently swung the door open, only to flinch as a motion swung out from the dark, blood splattering across the floor next to him.

Pale skin, and coarse rope. A missing head. Bloodstains that spread across the floor and into the darkness of the room.

Izuku breathed in and almost gagged as the taste of iron and decay washed over his tounge.

“Gah… what the fuck.”

Glancing around the room, he saw that shelves lined the walls, filled with books. The faint light of the moon glistened across the far half of the room, barely coming in mostly closed windows.

Blinking as he tried to adapt to the dark, he reached and pulled the camera once more, casting the room in washed out IR light.

He wished he hadn’t.

Heads. Piles of heads stacked along the far side. Some still with frozen screams and cries and pleas. All of them slowly dripping to the veritable pool of blood that reached across the floor.

Izuku breathed deep, and fought past the taste of blood and fear as he creeped through, blood slowly soaking the soles of his feet even as he moved carefully.

As ripples of red stretched across the floor, Izuku turned the corner, rounding the end of the center shelf that was blocking the rest of the room, and froze in horror.

A soldier. Body armor, comms, and helmet included, was struggling where he was mounted on a pipe, over a pile of heads. Izuku could only swallow as the taste of bile swelled in his throat.

Out of the struggle, the soldier seemed to glance and make eye contact.

“They… They killed us. They got out. The variants.”

A cough, a spatter of fresh blood along his chin.

“Can’t… Fight them. You… gotta hide.”

A wheeze that ended in a gurgle, blood bubbling from the spike through his chest.

“Main door… locked… security office…. You have… To get out.”

And with that, the struggles slowly went limp, eyes staring blindly out into the room.

Izuku breathed deep and gagged, spitting bile out on the ground as he watched, for the first time, another human die.

It didn’t matter, it was a simulation. Or that somewhere Izuku knew this was fake…

It looked real.

It felt real.

Izuku breathed deep and tried to regain his composure, before glancing up and freezing.

The soldiers hand was resting on a belt of pouches…

Izuku swallowed as his throat, still burning with bile, seemed to catch,

Breathing deeply and exhaling slowly, he pushed off from the bookshelves to stand up straight, stepping around heads to reach out and begin his search.

No gun. No knives…. But something almost as useful.

Izuku pulled out the small earpiece and glanced up. A spare? Did he set his aside? Regardless he slid it in his pocket for the moment and kept looking.

A few moments later, he found it.

Nothing extravagant. Just a single sheath tucked into his combat boots.

But the knife was still there.

Swallowing his fear, he drew the blade, seeing it revealed to be a form of dagger, long and with a curved tip to the blade, the handle with a wire guard.

He held it, and twisted to see the weight, surprised the blade was so light, yet still had an odd… weight to it.

Grimacing, he tightened his grip, before slipping the sheath free of the boot, looking up and biting back an oath at the limp soldiers body.

Sheathing the blade, Izuku paused, before sliding it into his pants, clipping the sheath to the inside of his belt.

Now somewhat armed, but feeling even more uneasy at his future, Izuku crept to the next door, cracking it open to show he was past the barrier that he had seen earlier, and that the next bit of the hallway was clear.

He walked slowly and carefully, glancing around even as he had to vault a table in his path, landing with the faintest of thumps.

He walked on. The stairs were in the corner by the door, and if he could get there, than he could move down and get to work investigating some more.

He was halfway there when a door creaked and he froze, glancing with held breath for any sort of movement.

For several seconds, there was nothing.

Resuming his creeping, he turned sideways, preparing the shimmy through the last barrier to the stairs-

A hand, larger than his head, clamped on his shoulder, squeezing tight as it lifted and dragged, Izuku shouting in surprise and fear as he was held and twisted to see a scarred and mutilated face.

The body attached to said face was massive, easily twice Izuku’s height, and probably five times his weight.

The face sneered, and without warning, Izuku was thrown through the glass window overlooking the lower floor, the shock of pain breaking him from his fear just in time for him to land back first on the floor, the pain blowing the breath from his lungs and making his vision blurs and sway with black.

He saw black and seemed to blink and gasp as a face leaned over him. An older man, balding, who wore ragged looking church robes and spoke in a dreamy, somewhat awestruck voice. The words echoed through his head, even as he barely held on to consciousness. He could barely hear the harsh whispers, as his eyes closed. Just for a moment..

Just until the spinning stops.

"I... I see. Merciful God, you have sent me an apostle. Guard your life, son, you have a calling."

---

Now

Class passed by fast… or perhaps Izuku perceived it that way.

He was distracted… not physically. He still listened, took notes and remembered things. But part of him… part of him was focused inwards.

Focused on the growing instinct that was wreathing his bones, making his control falter and flicker slightly. His heartbeat had been slowly spiking and settling for the last few hours, some part of him fighting to be ready, to hunt for the threat. To be proactive. His hands were cramping from white knuckle grips.

If you do not hunt, then you are hunted.

But, he kept the instincts reigned in.

As the last class of the day ended, the students began to disperse, drifting out of the last teacher, Snipe-sensei’s class.

Izuku closed his eyes and let the rest leave, while he focused on untensining his fists and shoulders. He let himself drift from the world, and let his attention fold into himself.

He could feel it. The phantom pains that sparked across the intricate network of neural tissue in his body. The spark of pains that flared up as memories of wounds he didn’t have haunted him. The way his sense of his body was heightened.

With a graceful sway of his body, Izuku stood and walked to the window, bracing his arms against the frame as across his back his spin slowly stretched taller, each joint popping and loosening as the muscles under his shirt rippled with slow, deliberate pressure. His eyes were focused out and across the city, the first hints of sunset setting the edges of the world with the colors of fire.

He breathed in, and exhaled as the last of the muscles tensed, and then relaxed.

Shoving off, he headed for the support department.

He needed something with a little more kick then paintball rounds for the next few days. And he needed to finish his new knives...

---

Then

Izuku blinked awake, groaning in pain as the muscles across his back seemed to decide he was stupid and needed to suffer.

His memories rang back loud and clear.

The soldier's last words, getting thrown out the window, a priest.

He twisted and pushed himself off, rubbing his shoulder and hissing as he felt a fragment of glass that was shoved into the muscle.

A jerk and it came loose. A second to check revealed that was the only shard he could find that was still embedded in him, though his clothes were covered in gashes.

Thank god for leather jackets and denim jeans.

Pulling his bag up from where it lay, he checked it to see that it was still okay, and that the fall hadn’t broken anything.

Slinging it over his shoulders, hissing as the movement pulled at his fresh cut, Izuku glanced around.

Desks lined the area, and several computers were on and locked.

Regardless, he set to work.

He had a mystery to solve.

---

The Office of Nedzu

Now

Nedzu sipped at his tea, his once polite expression now steeled and focused. “-and the classrooms? How did your check go?”

Aizawa sighed and mulled his answer over. “As far as we know, nothing was stolen. Nothing was destroyed, or even touched. The computer was never touched, the papers were where we left them, the desks were intact, the room has no bugs or bombs or markings. If not for the fact I trust Midoriya not to lie, I’d never know they had been there.”

“And was there any proof?”

“One of the kid's knives was turned to dust. I found the remains in the hall. It looks exactly like the effect that took down the front gate.” Aizawa downed the last of his tea with a swift motion, before finishing. “And with a warp quirk, it makes sense. Decay the door, step away and warp up, and while we all respond to the breach, they are farther past us. Misdirection at its most basic.”

Nedzu nodded, a pensive look crossing his face.

“We can’t call in a taskforce for a single sighting… not when our source is only Midoriya. Be on your guard. I’ll assign another teacher to join you for the USJ trip tomorrow, and have the rest of the faculty on high alert. That's the best I can do for now.”

Aizawa sighed, but he understood.

Fucking political bullshit.

---

Kamino.

A Bar

Now

Tomura Shigaraki paced. His hands, fingertips taped and half ripped gloves covering the rest, kept his destructive quirk in control. His room, once dark and closed off, had been expanded this last year. The wall to the next room over had been removed with careful application of his quirk, giving him room to move and think. Taking a note out of the gamer playbook, he had whiteboards and a pinboard up across the three walls beyond his original room. Across them were notes, pictures and files for each confirmed teacher he had heard of.

Present Mic, Midnight, Cementoss, Snipe, Eraserhead, Nedzu, Power-Loader, Hound Dog.

In the center, was All Might himself.

Before today, he had considered this to be his true opposition. The peak of his raids opposition.

But now, he had a new one.

Hanging at the bottom of the board, a single picture.

A render of one of the most… interesting screenshots.

The Gamer, the Simulation Survivor… It showed him standing atop a stairwell, the camera looking up past a literal waterfall of a stairway that ran red and pink blood and gore, past spent bullet rounds and broken and empty weapons.

And at the top, resting on one of the few clear steps, the blood splattered and exhausted form of Izuku Midoriya. His red hair was dark and dripped red, his face spattered and smeared with gore. His clothes were ragged, a simple white dress shirt that looked crimson. Across one shoulder, a shotgun. Hanging from his other hand, a wrench that was sparking and wreathed in blue lightning, the energy flickering down to the stream of water that ran from the glass tunnel behind him.

This one frame, the end of a half hour of death and mayhem, had been one of the most popularized photos of the teen. The ‘Rapture Massacre’ was one of the most vicious moments that had occurred during game 6. A hundred enemies, drawn to one funneled location. It had been a trap, orchestrated and planned by one teenager, to kill everything that had come close.

All to let him pass through an area unmolested.

If Tomura had taken any inspiration at all from the games, then it was this.

The act of learning could be a weapon unto itself.

Tomura paused his pacing as the Television in the corner flickered on, the static of his master's transmission filling the room.

“Tomura… How have you been, my student? How goes… your plan.”

For a moment, the urge to lie, to say that nothing was wrong, to deny his still growing instincts for the smallest bit of affection and reward, rose up.

He crushed that impulse.

“We have a new player, Sensei. The Survivor is in UA.”

The distorted voice was amused, but somewhat… wistful, “Is he? Curious. Is he in the fool’s class?”

”I can’t tell. I didn’t have a chance to acquire a roster. I only managed to confirm the schedule. I ran into the Gamer on my way to the exit. The kid’s as fast out here as he was in the simulation.”

“... Could you defeat him?”

Again, that pompous, stupid urge to ignore the facts, and he shoved it back. “...I could. But not without cost. He’s dangerous. Relentless. Without retreat? Without him being worn down? I would put even odds one of us dies, and I couldn’t tell you who.”

“Well, it seems you have a problem.”

Tomura agreed. But…. “As odds have it, Sensei. I also have a solution. I need the Hunter as well as the All Might Killer.”

“That… is no small request. The good professor will not be amused that we’re taking one of his more… interesting experiments..”

Shigaraki bit back a scoff of irritation. “If he can’t provide it, then I’ll deal. But that monster would make my odds go up far more.”

A pause stretched out as his sensei considered the proposal. “Agreed… I shall consult the doctor. Proceed as you can without it, do what you must to mitigate your risks.”

“Of course, Sensei.”

As the screen turned off, Tomura turned and paced to the board.

“I wonder…”

A fingertip touched the paper, stroking across the glossy rendering. Before sliding to another, smaller picture. Of a gaunt man with a lab coat and thick glasses.

“Would you join me, if I offered you the head of the man who kidnapped you on a silver platter?”

Chapter 15: Raid Planning

Summary:

The last 24 hours before the USJ begins.

Now

Izuku leaned against the workbench, twisting and inspecting the gun in his hand. Around him, the UA gun range was quiet. Which, considering it was several hours after school had let out, was to be expected. The long row of testing ranges was dark and quiet, only broken by the glow of his. It had taken only a few moments before Izuku had figured out the holographic targets. Even now, floating orbs appeared and vanished down the corridor. Izuku had set up on one of the alcoves, blazer and tie removed and folded behind him, and a pair of ear-protectors around his neck as he checked his weapons.

In his hands, was the S.T.A.R.S. custom weapon. A Samurai Edge. Loaded in 9mm, comes with a 15 round magazine, and customized for each member of the taskforce… And this one was customized by Izuku himself, for himself. Reinforced and longer barrel and skeletonized hammer, a taller ironsight, underslung flashlight and Laser-target. Unlike the variants he had recovered from various corpses in the game, this one was made of a matted black steel, with dark red wood inserts for the handle.

Twisting it, he read the inscription, etched into the black of the slide where the Stars Logo would have been on the in game models, just above the safety.

All Things Mortal, All Things Die.

Grim… but to the point. Izuku didn’t need the reminder, not usually. But it felt appropriate.

As he finished checking the gun, sliding the components and even dry firing once to check the pin was secured after assembly, he set it down and moved on.

The next was his grandfather's gun, and one of the two he had used in his entrance exam. The snub nosed Police 38. Special. A Colt revolver with 5 rounds of heavy hitting 38. Caliber ammo. He had actually used almost all his ammo for it in the entrance exam, taking out robots. Flipping open the cylinder, he checked it was clear once more, and then snapped it close and set it down.

The third gun, was a sawed off 12 gauge shotgun. He had gotten lucky with this, managing to buy it through a UA subsidiary leading up to the exam. It was basic and bare bones, and he was likely to leave it as a backup weapon at home. Setting it down, he hefted the largest weapon on the table up.

Once more, a 12 gauge. The combat shotgun was completely custom, coming closest to perhaps a classic Mossberg. It was pump action, and had a 12 round tube. The entire gun was once more designed and had been fabricated of the dame dull black metal as the Samurai, and he had done some major modifications. The entire barrel was thicker than people would expect, braced and reinforced to take and block some major damage. The same went for the stock of the gun. The same style of underslung light was present on the shotgun as his handgun, and there was a strap and clip that would click into place on his armor folded to the side of where it sat.

Resting the gun up, he sighted down its length, arms moving and torso twisting as he adjusted to its weight and balance.

Satisfied, he set the shotgun down, and reached across the counter to grab three boxes of ammo, all of them rubber and paint rounds.

He needed to get used to his new guns. 

---

 

Two hours later, Snipe walked through the gun range, clearing it out one last time, and paused.

A bin full of spent casings where before there wasn’t one earlier. He glanced around the range, before tapping the computer near the bin, opening up the command options.

“Range System, Assessment Lane 4, if ya would darlin.”

A beep and a profile picture came on the touchscreen near the lane, green eyes staring out.

Above it, a series of numbers came up.

Rounds fired: 403

Accuracy: 94.2%

Bullseye: 45.1%

Blinking, Snipe checked the system wasn’t tampered with. He could match that accuracy, even beat it, with his quirk. But unaided? That was… Remarkable.

Tapping the screen, he hit the high-speed hologram replay.

Across the lane, holograms flickered on, and lines of color passed through each mark as it flashed, showing roughly how each shot took it.

“Huh. now ain’t that a sight.” 

---

 

Then

Izuku staggered back into the locker, pulling the door closed as he slumped against the wall, using the pitch black of the dark to hide, with his hand coming up and muffling himself as he blinked back tears of pain. He wasn’t sure what was actually broken, but he knew that something was wrong with his knee, considering he could barely limp around the hallways right now.

His first run in with the variants. As they had been called, after getting defenestrated had ended with the asshole from a chair in the hall lunging at him. He had managed to get away, and reach the security room. A scavenaged RFID card had got him in the system, and he had just a moment to try and figure things out before the entire administration building had the power cut.

But he had seen there was a motion on the screen looking over the basement generator, and that had become his next target.

After a near miss with the big variant who threw him out the window, Izuku had made his way to the stairwell.

Of course, this is when the baseball bat carrying assholes had started wandering around.

He had one bad encounter, before he managed to get to the basement, when one had thrown their bat and nailed him in the leg. Even limping, he had managed to get down the stairs and into the pitch black lower floor, tucking himself into various lockers and under beds as he limped and crawled to find the Fuel Pumps for the generators.

Now he just had to get past the variant guarding the actual generator, and then, it would be back up to the first floor.

He didn’t expect he would get out. There was still a mystery to solve, but if he didn’t progress, he would never get anything done.

Breathing slow and trying to keep his pulse and hissing of pain down, Izuku listened.

There…

Izuku waited, and his hand reached back, grasping the knife handle tight as he slowly pushed the door open. The basement was nearly pitch black, but izuku had adapted. His eyes dilated wide to catch any fragments of light, his ears perked to listen to echo’s and his skin tingling with the sensation of the air flowing through from the vents.

His steps were staggered and slow, every other step sending a surge of pain rushing up his leg and across his spine.

He could sense the variant.

It was only a few feet away, and judging by the sound and the way the voice echoed as it rambled, it was looking at the generators.

Izuku tightened his grip, and moved.

It was brutal.

It was messy.

He had to jump, sloppily and off balance, to get high enough.

The cut was jagged, a combination of no leverage and the variant thrashing in his hold.

But when it was done…

Izuku vomited to the side, bile spilling from between his teeth as he snarled at the taste of blood.

He roughly cleaned the knife on his pant leg, the streaks of red only a darker black in the darkness of the basement.

He slid the knife back in its sheath and reached down, prying a clenched fist open to free the baseball bat, using it as a cane as he hobbled to the generator.

A moment of fiddling with the camera as he got it out, and he could see the instructions somewhat through the rangefinder.

It took another minute of messing around and changing settings to get it clear enough to read, and then he followed through.

Pull the lever to on, twist the nozzle to make sure the gas was flowing freely, and then press the button and…

A whir of power, the whine of the motor, and the lights flickered on.

Behind him, no longer concealed by the darkness, was a spreading pool of blood that matched the dark stains across his arms and chest.

He was more than halfway back to the stairs to the first floor when what he did fully registered, and he gagged, slumping against a wall as he tried to not hyperventilate, tears dripping down his cheeks.

That was his first kill.

---

Now

Bakugou felt like something was crawling up his spine.

Since yesterday, he had felt it. Something that… was familiar in the worst way. A bit of instinct that reminded him of that week a year ago. Of watching Izuku shiver with fear and held back emotion as he and his ‘friends’ had left, laughing at how useless a quirkless kid would be as a hero.

The feeling back than had been something he ignored. Something he brushed off as he went about his day, as he trained and exercised and bitched out his ‘followers’. But every time he ignored it, it came back stronger.

He had ignored it when Izuku wasn’t in class the next day.

It got stronger.

He had ignored it when auntie Inko had called mom and they had a hushed conversation that ended with his mom rushing out of the house.

It Got Stronger.

He had ignored it when two cops had come to ask his teacher something before class.

It Got Stronger.

He hadn’t ignored it when his mom had asked him about Izuku, and his first words had been “What about that useless Deku.”

Mainly because his mom had slapped him at the time.

It wasn’t for another week before he started hearing about the full story.

Until he had found the streaming page.

The feeling had surged when Izuku finished the simulation. That surge of unease and worry and guilt.

And now he was feeling that same surge again.

He glanced back to see that Izuku was sitting behind him, one hand holding open a notebook of grid paper as a fine tipped pencil sketched and edited a mechanical design. Notes that Bakugou couldn’t quite make out were everywhere, but something about the shape felt familiar. He would have asked more, but Sensei chose that moment to come back in and start homeroom.

Bakugou knew something was up. Something bad.

He swore to be ready.

---

Lunch had come, and Hatsume was excited.

On the table, her newest (and really only) customers outfit and gear was laid out. She had done some tooling. Adjusting things based on how Midori had asked in order to give the suit a little more flexibility. Added to that, she had set up and made some better storage for his various weapons, and added in more basic tools that he had listed off.

Next to it, was the sword he had been using.

And she used the term sword loosely.

While the hilt and guard was… serviceable, the blade itself was merely ground out of a piece of tool steel. There was no artistry or care put into it, and it was showing. Her eyes traced slight warps through the metal, taking sight of nicked and pitted edges where use had damaged it. She could see that Midoriya had attempted some maintenance. The edges, damaged as they were, had been sharpened and honed. And the blade was clean, if nothing else.

Next to it, six different knives lay, a freshly crafted set of synthetic sheaths next to them, as well as the holsters for the three guns Midoriya had planned to carry.

Mei was more annoyed that she hadn’t finished the other two projects.

One, the much larger project, was still having issues with structural integrity and the collapsing tech that she was trying to integrate was being.. Obstinate.

And the other one just had a tendency to explode. The gas she was using to fuel it was easy to acquire, but releasing and charging it the right way so it would maintain shape and effect was more complex and annoying than the rest of the outfit modifications. Even now, she only had about half of the working weapon, and it had none of the range or capability that the videos she had seen demonstrated. Sighing and flipping her welding goggles down, she hefted the square shaped handle and nozzle, a flick of the safety and a press of the trigger and a pulse of gleaming blue white plasma flickered out, and then dissipated into a cloud of loose gas and smoke after only a few feet.

“Electromagnetic channels giving you an issue?”

Mei held back a yelp of surprise, glancing over to see the form of Izuku slouched against the wall, arms crossed.

“Uh, Yeah. The plasma cartridges work just fine, but using the EMP emitter to shape the charge is still not working. Sorry!” Mei blushed at the idea of not having an order done yet. She knew she could do it! She knew it!

“Its fine.” The green eyed teen glanced across the table as he strode closer, hands ghosting over some of the armor as his eyes narrowed. “Everything finished over here?”

“Everything prepped and assembled except the plasma cutter and the axe. Oh, and your real sword is still being forged by Sensei’s contact.” Mei explained, setting the half assembled weapon back on the workbench. Shoving her goggles back up, she rubbed at her eyes. Closing them to try and ease the ache of her quirk.

When she glanced up, Izuku was staring at her with a curious tilt to his head.

“What? Do i have grease on my face again, cause i sw-”

“When’s the last time you slept. Or ate anything.” His voice was curious, and somewhat flippant.

“Who has time for-” An arm around her waist, “-WhaT ARE YOU-” a shift and she was held over his shoulder, arms hanging loose as Izuku calmly walked off, the mechanic over his shoulder. “-H… HEY LET ME GO!”

Mei started as Izuku spoke up, and flushed as she realized they were standing in front of- “Power-Loader sensei, I’m taking Mei to get some lunch, please send my gear up to class for my afternoon classes if you have a moment?”

Mei crossed her arms even as her teacher agreed, and Izuku took off. Each step was smooth and the ride was… actually sorta comfortable. His steps were even, his shoulders swaying ever so slightly with each step, even as she was rocked side to side and swung… slowly...

Before she really was aware of it, she was sitting slumped on a bench in the teachers lounge, half blinking sleep from her eyes as she rested at the side of a table with a platter of small sandwiches and a bright pink smoothie next to it.

Across from her, a notebook open and pen spiraling around graceful fingers, was Midoriya. He had his own platter of small snacks, already half empty, and a glass of deep green black smoothie that he sipped from.

As Mei blinked the sleep from her eyes, her kidnapper spoke up.

“Hatsume. You need to sleep and eat between projects. Even if its a power nap and a smoothie. Speaking of, eat.” Midoriya demonstrated with narrowed eyes as he took a bite of sandwich, as a shiver ran up Mei’s spine.

Mei barely grumbled as she picked up and chomped on a sandwich, eyes narrowing even as she felt the strange pressure to do so lessen.

Huh, wonder what that was.

---

Aizawa glanced over the students milling around the bus, the combined efforts of the newly formed student council slowly shifting them so they could enter and find seats easily.

His eyes, somewhat instinctively, drifted towards the quiet motions of signing that passed between two of his students. From his angle he was only to catch bits and pieces, something about the hawk on Koji’s shoulder, and signals.

Even with the fact he was mid sign, Midoriya caught his gaze with his own, eyes flickering away from his conversation for less than a second. That was another thing. Midoirya’s mood since the incident the day before. He had seemed far less… nervous and unsure. The careful gazes, the hesitant pauses as he tried to figure out how to act around people. They were still there, but they passed quicker.

If Aizawa was optimistic, he would say that maybe the teen had just started learning how to interact.

Aizawa wasn’t an optimist.

As students began filing into the bus, taking seats, Aizawa glanced back, and narrowed his eyes.

Somehow, his new problem child had gotten more weapons than he had during the battle trial.

Noting this for future reference and to check with the support system, Aizawa gave the driver the go ahead for them to take off.

The USJ awaits, and he didn’t want to make 13 wait for him too long. 

---

Tsuyu glanced behind her, seeing the form of Midoriya sitting in the back corner of the bus, holding up a small squared off canister and what looked almost like a drill or some sort of hand tool, if you had stripped the front half off. She ignored the curiosity of what it was, to actually speak to the person who had been confusing her for the last few days.

“Midoriya.”

Eyes darting up, even as the squared canister was slid into a slot and hissed into place. “Yes, Asui?”

“Call me Tsu. I’ve noticed that you don’t talk or like people. And that you’ve never shown off your quirk.” By now more people were taking note of this conversation, from the somewhat stoic Todoroki who sat in the corner across from Midoriya, to the red spikey haired Kirishima who was turning back to look, joined by Kaminari and Sero. Ashido leaned over another seat at the idea of gossip, pushing until she was balancing over the calm and focused form of Bakugou, who was listening with a smirk. “In fact… Bakugou claimed you don’t have a quirk.”

A second of silence, as Midoriya held Tsuyu’s gaze.

“Well. He’s correct. I don’t quite see how that matters, however.”

"Are you kidding me? How the hell did a powerless kid like you even get into the school? What the hell." Mineta shouted eyes wide.

 

---

As murmuring and comments passed around, that singular comment stood out. It was crude and disrespectful, and the sheer thought that it was enough to make him reconsider his path in life was downright ridiculous.

So ridiculous was it that it actual prompted a deep, growling chuckled from the green eyed teen.

A chuckle which was so… distorted and sarcastic that it stole the murmurs from the others throats.

Izuku hooked the tool he had been fiddling with under his cloak somewhere and stood, pushing forwards to lean over the seat that was in front of him, directly above both Jirou and Tooru.

His eyes focused only on the purple balled head of the person who drew his ire.

"Your name is… Minoru, right?" The words, innocent as they sounded, were backed by a wave of intent that made several students shudder.

"Y-yeah! What's it to you!"

"Just… checking. Anyway. I've got a… let's call it a curiosity. Are you implying that you need a quirk…. Some sort of combat applicable ability, to be a hero?"

Mineta quivered with a bit of fear, and then rallied to support his argument. "Yes! If you don't have a quirk you shouldn't be a hero!"

Izuku nodded, his eyes half closed and lips quirked, as he slowly curved his spine into a distinctly feline looking stretch. "Glad to hear that. now, let's... elaborate." His eyes still half closed, he crossed his arms, stepping out into the main aisle of the bus and walking with slow steps, body swaying counter and balanced with the bumps of the road. "I presume, going by your definition that you would assume heroes must have something… combative, as a quirk. such as Bakugou, or Todoroki. Something dangerous, destuctive….. or perhaps like Kirishima, who's durability let's him ignore damage, to a point."

Some of the class was nodding along nervously, looking almost nervous at the way this was making sense, while Aizawa blearily peeked out from his bundled sleeping bag at the front.

Good. They sensed the trap even if oh so few could see it. Izuku would have grinned if it wouldn't ruin the web he wove, his steps taking him towards the front of the bus as he paced and spoke.

"And you are… correct. The quirks we associate with heroics, with these large fights and flashy costumes… those are loud and combative." Izuku grinned. "But…. How does that explain my battle trial."

A collective flinch, a shift of motion as everyone listening, realized that he had already proven his point.

"Sorry, that's a bit biased. Instead ...consider Sir Nighteye, perhaps? I mean, one of the few who could claim being a sidekick to the legendary All Might… but his quirk is a form of foresight, which doesn't make him a fighter. No. That would be skill and experience. Or perhaps… our sensei, the mythical Eraserhead, would be a better example? He's practically quirkless. His only power… is to nullify other quirks." at this, Izuku waved a head forwards, now standing near his teacher, with the class behind him.

Gasps of realization from several of his classmates as they, apparently connected some dots actually make Izuku pause, turning and blinking out at the sea of faces still focused on him. "Didn't you all know that? Our sensei makes people fight quirkless, which is where his training and skill are superior."

As the murmuring rose, he spoke up once more, twisting slowly as he drew attention back. "I have one more… let's say close at hand example."

He shifted his gaze from the bulk of the crowd, to a specific person, who, by his design, was now seated across the open center seats of the bus from Izuku's position.

"Our class president."

Momo blinked and flinched.

Izuku however, despite his eyes focused on Momo, was paying attention to Mineta, who's eyes had widened with lust and a sudden surge of opportunistic instinct, as he kept up to stand on his seat, leveling his gaze with Izukus.

Hook.

"Hey! How dare you insinuate the president is quirkless like you!"

Line.

"Really? Explain how her skills and mine differ, than."

"Absolutely! Yaoyorozu has… um… has…" Mineta blinked as he tried to come up with something that wasn’t obliquely sexual.

Sinker.

Izuku spoke, and his voice was pitched lower, a deeper echo than his casual rant. "She has a quirk that gives her access to a vast array of tools. But to use any of them I guarantee she had to practice day in and day out. I may not have as broad an arsenal… but I would bet I am far more skilled with what I do have."

As the conversations and shouting began to pick up, the bus began to slow to a stop, Izuku glancing to confirm that he was, indeed, the first person in line to get off after sensei.

Leaving the class to its discussion, he wondered if any of them would realize that he never did explain how he got accepted.

---

Then

Izuku ducked through the broken security doorway, breathing deep and slow as he hobbled around the room, before coming back to the console. He started tabbing through files and system, before finding an option to send a backup of the files to a secure location, blinking he fumbled for the notebook and found what he needed.

“The email that the first message was sent too. That would be the reporter, me. That would be the place to send the files…”

A minute of looking found the copied email, and he typed out the page.

“[email protected], right. Now onto the next part.” a few clicks and he selected all the security cam footage, and copied it over to the message, encoding everything in a compressed zip file to speed up the sending process, the computer whirring and beeping as the message began to send

“Alright. Just gotta-” a jerk cut off Izuku, a hand wrapping around his neck and pulling him back and off balance even as a large needle was jabbed into his chest. A dark green liquid flowing in from the injection even as he tried to regain his balance and twisted.

Only to see the face of the priest.

“Of… fucking course…” Izuku gasped out, feeling the rush of his heart spread a numbing heaviness through his torso.

“I'm sorry, my son, I didn't want to have to do this to you. But you can't leave, not yet. There is so much yet for you to witness.”

As Izuku went limp, the priest dragged him to look at a monitor as he pulled up a saved recording. “Will you see it? Can you?” on the screen a group of soldiers. Walking into some sort of reception space that looked far more modern than the reception hall he passed through earlier. “Our lord, the Walrider tearing His truth into the unbelievers!”

One by one the soldiers in the recording were sent flying or torn to shreds, flashes of black and white detailing blood splatters and broken bodies as they all died in under a minute.

Even as he watched though, he could feel his eyes slowly going dark, his focus wavering even as he was pulled face to face with the priest once more. “The only way out of this place is the truth. Accept the gospel and all doors will open before you.”

And with that, the world went black once more.

---

Now

Uraraka stretched and flexed as she stood, glancing at the large domed structure as sensei started leading the crowd of teens up the front stairs. She took in the sight, somewhat stunned and wondering how much the design had been based off the United Studios Japan building, which shared a very similar style.

Regardless, she followed the class, mind somewhat drifting as she considered the words of her… was he a friend? Associate? Of Midoriya. He had spoken more in that 5 minute ride than she thinks he’s ever spoken since she first met him… and certainly more than in the few compilations that she had watched of the simulations. But was he right? Was fighting quirkless enough to be a hero… and more importantly, if she could fight quirkless, and still have her quirk? Wouldn’t that be smarter and better?

She needed to do some research when she go- OHMYGODITS13.

She focused on the space themed hero, and listened as the somewhat shy user of the Black Hole quirk began to talk about how quirks and skills could be dangerous, but that learning to use them was important. The hero was barely getting into explaining the USJ, (It really is based off the themepark!) was a testing facility designed to replicate natural disasters.

However, that was interrupted, the sharp tones of Midoriya swearing loudly cutting through the teachers speech and the crowd's attention like a firework.

“Well. Shit.”

Glancing at him showed a grim expression as he stared down the stairway to the center plaza.

And at the swirls of black mist that began to coalesce.

Chapter 16: Entering the PVP zone

Summary:

Welcome to the USJ

Now

Jiro felt her heart beat faster and faster, feeling a strange sense of panic and focus overcome here.

But it's not just the villains that cause this.

The swarm of them had gathered down below, and the doors behind them all were now locked, proof that somehow the USJ had been locked down.

But she kept glancing from the villains to the thing that's really throwing her off.

‘thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…’

She knew music, knew the speed and pacing and was good at figuring out BPM. Hell, she used her own pulse and heartbeat to fire off sonic blasts. She could read heart rates to see when people were panicking or lying, or angry.

But there had been a nearly constant tune throughout the last three days. Only flickering and speeding up when something interesting was happening, and immediately slowing down afterward.

It had been easy to see, and was slow, inevitable, a waltz playing in the middle of a rave.

And right now, Izuku Midoriya’s pulse was speeding up.

‘Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump,thump-thump’

It wasn’t just his pulse either. The moment he had reacted, glancing and focusing on the plaza, he had seemed to stand taller, his skin slowly losing the faintly sallow pale tint as a reddish pink flush, that looked healthier by far, began to spread across his limbs. His eyes had seemed to almost bloom, when she caught his gaze sweeping to the doors behind where he had stood, staring down the steps to the plaza, the once dark and muted green of pine trees was now emerald bright and seemed to catch the light, flickering to meet her gaze with the slightest quirked eyebrow and what seemed to be amusement.

And then he had glanced back down.

Below, the crowd of villains parted as three figures strode out of the portal.

First, a slender young man with silvery blue hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail, his form-fitting blue shirt held tight in clenched hands that seemed to hang off and perch across his body, with two clasped around his neck like a noose, and one that looked almost like a gas mask as it wreathed his mouth.

To his back, a massive form strode out, hunched over as it loomed around him. Black skinned and clawed hands, with a beaked jaw that peeked out from beneath a thick metal cap. Across its arms and back, layered plates of steel wreathed its massive form, and seemed to be almost embedded into its skin. From around its waist, a heavy skirt of chainmail and barbed hooks hung.

As it passed out of the mist and seemed to shadow the hand covered man, the mist swirled together to form a strange man like shape with a layered metal collar. His body nothing but flickering smoke and shadow, with two gaslight eyes that peered around.

As the three super-villains came to a stop, the leader, wreathed in hands glanced up and around. Even this far away, Jirou could hear the leaders voice without issue, and judging from the shifting of Izuku’s head, he could make it out too. Around them, the class was panicking shouting about how this wasn’t possible. But those who could hear the villains were far more focused on the threat at hand.

“Hmmm… I was expecting All Might would be here. What a shame.”

The leader focused back on the figures above him, eyes locking on the green haired survivor even as he took in the rest of the teenagers who were panicking and the two pro’s who were preparing to fight.

“Kurogiri, separate the students. Remember to keep track of the green one.”

“Of course, Shigaraki.”

Turning back, Shigiraki took a seat on the edge of the fountain, one foot perched up as he glared up at the world past his arm.

“Hmm… If he’s not here in 15 minutes. I’ll start personally killing people until he shows up. Should at least get his attention.”

The Nomu, crouched at his side, was silent, but something about it gave her a bad vibe.

---

 

Izuku glared at the villains, eyes roaming as he clocked and assessed every one of the targets he could see. He glanced away to see his sensei stepping up, his capture weapon scarf in his hand.

“Be careful. I’ll help you out.” Aizawa glanced at the younger teens cool tone and leapt down the stairs, rings of his weapon flowing around him as he dove at the fray.

From his perch, Izuku pulled his handgun and began to distract and blind several of the villains with precise paintball rounds, splatters of paint blinding enemies with ranged quirks, giving Aizawa time to reach the villains below.

Izuku’s assault was cut off as the flicker of black smoke rushed his way. He dove back towards the class, rolling for a sec as he dodged the wave of black that now separated Sensei from the class was quickly distracted as the misty shape of the teleporter, Kurogiri, appeared in front of the class.

“I really am quite sorry about this. Greetings, I am Kurogiri of the League of Villains. And I cannot allow you to remain in a group. We are here to kill the symbol of-”

An explosion, blasting past Izuku as a Kirishima darted around the other side, fist slamming towards the warper… only for the red-haired teen to vanish into the smoke and disappear.

“KIRISHIMA!” The shout was anguished and echoed from behind Izuku. But he was focused, handgun at his side and pulse pounding in his ears.

“What a reckless attack… Now, you shall all join him, and be scattered-”

Izuku blinked, seeing the world in clarity as tendrils of smoke rushed forwards.

“-and tortured-”

He turned and bolted, getting several steps in before the smoke began to rush past him, but that was enough he had already marked the two people closest to him.

“-and slain.”

He lunged, each arm wrapping a different waist even as the world was engulfed in darkness.

‘Fucking warpers.’

---

Then

Waking up in a padded cell, where the walls were covered in the ramblings of a religion obsessed madman was one thing.

Escaping the cellblock around that cell? Was far more difficult.

Izuku ducked around another corner and ran, the long hall before him lit by only the moonlight passing through each window to his left.

Behind him, the footsteps, the laughs, and jeers of one of two fucked up cannibalistic assholes who clearly didn’t get the memo that Izuku was off the menu.

Izuku cursed, loudly when he saw the other one down the next hall. Even if he had time, he wasn’t sure he cou-

Window. broken.

Time to bluff.

“FUCK YOU, I REFUSE TO BE A MEAL!”

And leap.

Hands ripped open as the glass shards embedded in the window still sliced open his fingers, but he gritted his teeth past the screams, and caught the bar beneath the window, hanging out of sight but letting his body slam heavily against the wall.

It hurt, and his grip almost slipped, but as he slowly shimmied down the length of the hall, fingers bleeding, he heard it.

“Wait, did he jump?”

“Damn, I was hoping to get his liver. He looked tasty.”

“Indeed. What a waste of fresh meat.”

Izuku snarled to himself. His lungs were burning, his blood pumping so hard it hurt.

And then, his grip slipped and he cried out, the rain following as he fell down…

And landed in a pool of blood and corpses.

As he wheezed, he could make out the sign on the door next to him.

Vocational Block.

---

Now

Izuku rolled with the drop, taking the impact as he let his two companions sprawl across the sand and dirt. He took a second to stand, stretching even as he took in the half buried buildings and uneven rubble and dry sand that layered the world around him. He patted himself down, his cloak had cushioned the blow, the shimmering metallic cloth shaking the dust off easily as the teen glanced around, a single eyebrow raising as he took in dozens of villains scattered about the landslide zone, most of whom were now looking at his direction and beginning to head his way.

He glanced back, taking in the still shell shocked and distracted forms of both Jiro and Yaoyorozu, before glancing back and rolling his eyes. The villains had barely advanced, clearly joking and looking more like a bunch of 2 cent thugs than actual threats.

Regardless, Izuku dropped the magazine out of the Samurai Edge and glanced at his bullet count.

“10 in the clip, 1 in the chamber, and 3 clips of 15 paint rounds in my pocket…” a quick head count of his incoming attackers put a smirk on his face. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

He stretched a bit and felt a strange sense of familiarity at the situation. For a month now, he had been trying to be normal. To be polite and peaceful.

Right now? All of those little masks and efforts and attempts at being normal just flaked away. He felt… just like he was coming home.

He breathed deep, and let the tension… the hesitation… the myriad of second guessings and fears and anxieties…. Vanish beneath the rising tide of the one thing he knew he could do.

It all faded… beneath the rising sea of Killer Intent.

---

Kirishima rolled back up and darted through another section of the burning building, still running towards where he had glimpsed another portal as he moved. He ducked a villain, arms wreathed in flowing black smoke and ash swinging at him and breaking against his hardened skin as with a growl of focus, he slammed his shoulder into the taller woman’s stomach and pushed.

She screamed out as he sent her out the window behind her, the two of them falling a story down into the next street, and the woman choking as she landed with a meaty thud.

Rolling to his feet, Kirishima looked back and flinched as the window above him exploded outward, a quirk that expanded air meeting the already burning room.

His shirt was still blackened and smoking from the last time he dealt with that attack.

He stumbled around the next street corner and nearly cried in relief. There, standing above a trio of unconscious villains, was Ojiro, his long tail swaying as he glanced around.

“Dude! What happened back at the front! Did you get warped too!”

Ojiro nodded and spoke up, still keeping an eye out. “After your attack, he got most of us with his portals. No idea where the rest are, but I’m guessing we were all scattered. This is the Conflagration Zone, right?”

“Sure looks li-” the familiar pressure of air shifting. “DOWN!”

As the heroes in training dove and rolled away, another compressed air explosion erupted, flames washing over the two teens as they went for cover.

“HAHAHA YOU FUCKERS ARE GONNA BURN!”

Kirishima was getting pissed at thi-

A thunk.

A metal pipe, floating in midair behind the villain as he went careening out the second-floor window he was looking out of. The crunch of bone followed by a high pitched “SORRY!” catching all of them off guard.

“You guys okay?” came the shout as both teens took in the floating gloves and held pipe of Hagakure.

“That was SO MANLY!”

“What?”

---

 

Jiro looked up, feeling her skin crawl as something in her *screamed* to run.

She could hear it. A drumbeat in double. Two taps. Two strikes.

Faster, the blood rushing as a heart hammered.

60 bpm.

Faster, the skin warming, the color returning until he nearly looked pink.

90 bpm.

Faster, his throat letting loose a chuckle that was light-hearted, that was content, and sounded… almost happy.

140 bpm, where insteasd of speeding up, it seemed to balance.

A drumline by which death would come.

Izuku stepped forwards, and his sword was drawn with a ringing of steel that sounded almost eager.

“Come then. Indulge me for a moment, jackasses.”

---

Todoroki breathed in, flickers of steam appearing around him as he warmed his body back up, the water that soaked his form evaporating and boiling off as he tried to recover from using so much ice while soaked in water.

Below him, the water of the flood zone was sporting a large spiked glacier. The sprawling curves and spires a sign that his panic had overcome his control.

His father would have had… words if he could see this.

“TODOROKI-SAN!”

At the shout, the dichromatic teen glanced back to see there was another class member on the boat, the long green black hair and stooped stance clear from the distance as he recognized the girl with the frog quirk. Tsu, wasn’t it?

A flicker of his ice, and a ramp shifted and let him slide down, leaping gracefully to the deck of the boat. “Are you injured?”

“No, kero, just uncomfortable from the cold. If we get to the shore I should be fine.”

Todoroki immediately realized his problem and sighed. If she was vulnerable to the cold, and he could only make ice…

He held out his left arm.

“I’ll keep you from freezing, come on.”

---

Momo staggered to her feet as she heard the first scream, and glanced only to blanch, her mind skipping a beat at the sight of a bloodied sword, and a villain staggering back screaming as he tried to hold his arm.

His arm which ran red from blood, with a clear cut line to bone across his shoulder.

The blade flickered out, the flat swinging fast and whistling as it strikes the side of the tall man’s face, a tooth sent sprawling even as the figure staggered back and fell off the edge of the tilted roof they stood on.

Across the roof, she heard it. A word muttered with such casual boredom it cut through her fear like a flash of lighting.

“Weak.”

---

Bakugou growled and turned, throwing his hand out and sending another wall shattering and blasting into the poor villains who though an ambush would work. Even as the wall sent screams of surprise and pain up, his eyes roamed for his next target.

The collapsed buildings and ruined infrastructure of what he guessed was the ‘Ruins Zone’ was a goddamn maze. He had seen two other portals in the air, but getting there was an exercise in odd half streets and looming monoliths that were rotting apart.

He turned and narrowed his eyes as another trio of villains popped up, standing on top of some sort of gas station looking place and immediately opening up. There were spikes, some sort of force blast, and vibrating glass shards that came rocketing towards bakugou, who unleashed a flash and smoke variant from his hands, concealing himself even as the projectiles ripped through the smoke. He darted back and behind an overturned and rusted taxi, narrowing his eyes as he considered how best to-

Was that an I beam?

...

Was that an I-beam being thrown like a javelin at the building?

A crash, and screams of pain, confirmed it, and Bakugou was already running to finish the job even as the pink, white and black form of the girl with the Anti gravity quirk made a super jump and landed on the beam, booted foot kicking out to knock teeth out of one asshole.

Grinning, bakugou lunged up and blasted through a window and into the floor beneath the only other unpinned attacker, sending him dropping through rubble and flames to crash to the floor, where bakugou took no time sending the rounded bracer of his gauntlet into the morons skull, bouncing his head off the wall and making him go limp.

He glanced up to see Floaty Girl looking down at him.

“Thanks!”

“Forget it, you see the third member who dropped here?”

“No! I’ve had to deal with like 3 ambushes though.”

“Fucking cowards-”

They both paused and turned as they heard it.

Screaming.

Hysterical screaming.

From around the corner down the street from the gas station, a purple and yellow blur was running like his life was on the line.

Behind it, a massive villain with teeth like a shark stomped after him laughing menacingly.

Bakugou glanced at the floaty girl.

“If you lighten the beam again, I’ll fire it.”

She grinned, seeming to fight the faint green tinge of her cheeks. “Sounds fun. Let's go.”

30 seconds later the half-ton bar of steel slammed into the villains gut, knocking him flat on his ass.

Uraraka than landed and a clap of her hands landed the beam on the guy's groin, making him flinch and groan in pain, before reverting to human size.

Bakugou knocked him out with extreme prejudice. Suddenly he had the arms of the little purple fuck around his leg.

“Oh THANK GOD! I WAS SO SCARE-”

Yeah, fuck this. “You hurt jackass?”

More tears. More whining. “I COULD HAVE DIEEEE-”

“SHUT IT.” Bakugou turned away from the diaper kid, shoving him off his thigh with a shove. “Floaty, lets go. The faster we get back to the front door, the sooner I can make sure Deku isn’t to the point he’s murdering people.”

Blinking Uraraka nodded, “Uhh.. sure.”

The two started jogging towards the atrium, the Mineta following in a panicked scurry.

Bakugou’s feeling of unease was back.

And it was getting worse.

---

A crack of a broken sound barrier, but not the iconic ‘Bang’ of a bullet. But the whistle of air and a cracking sound more akin to a whip strike. When it hit, a splash of blue and purple hues.

But against an unprotected eye, it might even be more debilitating. the swift slash of the sword that hamstrung someone definitely was and his screams joined the chorus as Izuku once more kicked the assaulting villain who tried to close in, sending him stumbling back off the roof of the half buried building.

As Jirou pushed herself to her feet, she took in the way that, despite its speed, Izuku’s heart rate didn’t change. If anything… it evened out.

Every pull of the trigger sent another scream up, and Jirou snarled at her skinned knees and palms from her rough landing. She knew it would have been worse. That fall was to injure. 40 feet onto concrete?

And yet Izuku barely flinched from it.

She glanced to see if he was injured, but couldn’t see any sort of wounds.

Only the shift of the gun as another villain screamed in pain.

---

 

Tokoyami scowled, the rain falling around him was distracting, and the screams of terror from the villains around them merely made him scoff.

It wasn’t like Dark Shadow was rampaging or something. He was still able to guide the shadow as it ripped through trees and tore up the earth.

Behind him, leg splinted and being supported by the multi-armed form of Shouji, Aoyama glanced around.

“Merci, but perhaps we should focus on reaching the atrium?”

Shouji shook his head, even as a mouth opened to explain. “I’m still listening to the sounds of a fight over that way, and you are injured. You’ll be a liability if they come for us, and Tokoyami is already getting winded controlling his Quirk.

Tokoyami nodded, glancing back. “It’s true. Despite Dark Shadow’s power in this rainfall, he requires some effort to keep tame. The sooner we get free and I can rest somewhat, the better.” the three of them ignored the high pitched squeal as another would be slasher villain got sent ragdolling above the treeline.

“Lead on, my feathered friend.”

Tokoyami scoffed, and Dark Shadow threw a tree at another villain.

‘Wow. they really did choose the worst place to put me.’

---

“IIDA, RUN!”

The door was open, and the gleam of sunlight called for him.

Glancing back, Iida growled before darting forwards, Sato and Ashido’s work had weakened the doors enough to let them been ripped open. He dodged one, then the other, of the portals, and leaped over a third that nearly tripped him, before rolling through the gap and coming back up running.

He had to get to the main campus, some 3 miles away.

He had to move.

In the back of his mind, a voice whispered, cold and focused.

‘So, hero? What's your play?’

Iida ran.

---

Koda glanced around nervously, Kuro perched on his shoulder as he wandered to the peak of the mountain zone. Farther down the slopes, a dozen or so villains were shouting and trying to climb after him, with little success.

Koda was surprised about that.

Maybe it was the fact he had climbed and camped on Mt. Fuji with his uncle almost every summer and winter break for the last five years, in order to train his quirk in the wilderness?

This wasn’t even that tough of a climb, though he should have his uniform adjusted to deal with snow. It was sorta cold up here.

As he reached the top of the peak, he glanced down and saw two villains with leg based mutations had pulled ahead of the pack.

He glanced at the cliffs behind him, where layers upon layers of snow had been built up… and then the big red button labeled ‘Avalanche test’.

Koda gave a sly grin, and walked over to it, flipping the plastic cover off the button and looking up.

-What does this do?- Kuro chirped, eyes flickering between the button and his perch.

-Avalanche-

He hit the button, and with a roar that sounded like a tsunami, the large cliff next to him was revealed to be a deep snow filled hole, backed by a hydraulic press.

He barely saw the surprised expressions of the two villains who lept over the ledge, before they were consumed by the wall of white and cold.

It took a moment for the flow of snow to stop, but when it did he slowly crept to the edge and looked down.

Aside from the occasional foot or hand reaching out from the snow, the cliffside was now free of villains.

Koda nodded, and then looked out at the rest of the USJ below him.

-Kuro, find the Hunter, guide him towards the doors-

-Got it!-

A flap of wings, and a lunging dive, and Kuro took off, catching the heat of the nearby Conflagration zone as it rose. Before circling above the USJ to find Midoriya.

---

Kurogiri reformed with a sigh and looked to his leader.

“The students have all been scattered, though, as we planned, some did manage to break the door down, and a third escaped. With 13 guarding the entrance, they should have a place to regroup. As you requested, I've kept track of your… special target.”

Shigaraki didn’t speak, eyes locked on the fight before him, at Eraserhead smashing through the hoard of two-bit chumps he had gathered. “Perfect. The bait is set. Prepare to call in the second wave. The first of our buffer is soon to fall… and call in the Hunter. I can hear the gunshots from here, and the survivor needs to be weakened before stage 2.”

“Of course, Tomura.”

Chapter 17: Raid Party Tactics

Summary:

Izuku, Momo, and Kyouka fight to escape, and Shigiraki waits out the event timers.

Izuku was feeling… peaceful.

And disappointed.

And sorta relieved.

His blade slashed out in a quick lunge, the steel edge catching one of the last few villains who hadn’t ducked from his paint rounds for cover in the knee, a twist of the blades tip ripping and dislocating the damaged joint as he stepped into the aborted attack, blade twisting free as he spun, armored elbow striking the staggered villain in the jaw hard enough Izuku could hear it crack, and letting him bring the blade around to skate off the bone spikes of the mutant quirked villain who was trying to rip him apart.

But really-

The sword flickered out, twisting so the flat slammed a bone spike off course, before it lanced forwards between bone plates into a shoulder to a scream of pain.

-Izuku was sorta bored.

Here he is, really, truly, awake for the first time in almost a month, working with a blade that feels like he yanked it off one of the undead in the burg, with no actual bullets in his gun, and with no healing.

He grabbed a third villain by the neck as he tried to grapple him, and twisted, sending the guy yelling with a choked cry as he smashed into the boney guy, before Izuku’s nice red boot kicked both of them back over the edge, catching another villain as they crashed down below.

And yet, Izuku was feeling bored.

He planted his sword in the edge of the roof, pulled his gun out, and fired at a villain who peeped out.

The splatter of purple across the woman's face sent her screaming.

“Midoriya? What the hell is going on.”

Oh, look, the girls finally got themselves together.

“Ambush, a bunch of C list villains and at least three actual villains running the show.”

“WHO YOU CALLING-” Snap-Crack “-AHHGGHHHDDDD.” Izuku frowned at the screaming villain who was trying to claw the paint out of his eyes, who had tried creeping closer while he was distracted by the girls.

“Hey, can’t you see I’m talking here? Honestly, you all suck at fighting, fine, but no manners? For shame.”

He glanced back. “Is the shock wearing off? I know it’s a bitch.”

Momo breathed in and nodded, setting her shoulders as the flicker of her quirk slowly began to glow as she started to design a- a poke in her cheek broke her concentration, and she blinked at seeing that Midoriya had lunged across the roof to break her focus.

“Hey, wait a moment.”

He glanced at Jirou and waved her closer.

“I have a plan.”

His grin was… menacing.

---

 

‘Why isn’t he fighting….’ Aizawa cursed as he ducked another fist and twisted, drawing the arm past and then jerking it, a villain screaming as the move dislocated a shoulder, and then he ducked in close, an elbow slamming into the now screaming man's gut to drop him for a moment. Letting Shouta breath and relax, as he glanced around.

Most of the villains had stepped back, surrounding him in a ring and nursing a variety of wounds, the unconscious left to lay where they had fallen. And then, slow mocking applause began, and a rough and measured voice rang out. “Wonderful, just wonderful! I have to say, Eraserhead, that was quite impressive.”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes behind his goggles as the hand covered villain stepped forwards.

“In fact, it was so impressive, that I think I’ll have Nomu only… play, with you.” a carefully measured whistle, and the tall mound of muscle and armor behind him perked up. “Nomu, Play.”

Aizawa could only swear as he dove backward, avoiding a massive fist that embedded itself through the concrete of the plaza.

As he rolled to his feet, he had only a moment to react, dodging back as the metal embedded fist swung for him, and he had to leap back. The air tearing at his scarf and skin as the fist rushed by him.

He gritted his teeth and blinked, quirk firing as he tried to negate whatever strength or speed quirk that was being used.

Judging by the way his arm twisted from another punch, and he was sent sprawling across the plaza, it didn’t work.

---

A click as he slid the last of his spent paintball magazines free, the empty box being tossed to Yaoyorozu as she crouched, a staff over her shoulder and a small pile of flashbangs and teargas grenades at her side. Behind her, keeping an eye out, Jirou held a sword at the ready, a crash course from Izuku teaching her the most basic art of not cutting herself with a blade.

The villains had all retreated out of easy range, taking cover and only making token assaults with the few remaining ranged quirks they had. Izuku was fully expecting that they would realize he was out of paint rounds in the next few minutes, which means the three of them needed to get going before that.

His eyes roamed the area, the half dozen buildings that were buried almost to the roof in the loose soil and mud of the landslide. As the gleam of Yaoyorozu’s quirk faded, he turned back to take the newly refilled clip she held out, the almost familiar weight of it bringing back a memory of a different dark-haired red wearing girl, who helped him out in Racoon city a few times.

Blinking it away, his eyes roamed the clip, counting, as he slid it home in his handgun.

Fifteen in the clip.

Nodding, he clicked the safety on and rose up, eyes roaming the path he had figured out through the nearby buildings. The gun clicked as it locked into his holster, and he stepped towards the ledge, looking out and thinking.

And then he felt it, a flicker in the air, a ripple of air pressure and a flare of purple just out of his field of view.

He was moving before he even identified where the portal was.

‘Above!’

He had lunged to the side, sword ringing free of its sheath as he came up slashed it out, the blade clanging and ringing as a long black scythe of chiton and bone swung to catch him. Both edges scraped, black and steel against one another as Izuku disengaged, stepping backwards with fast measured steps and sword staying up, edge in line as and stared at the new enemy.

At just over 9 feet tall, the thing was definitely not human. Izuku was damn sure, if only because human and sentients didn’t move like this thing. It reminded him more of the monstrous insects from Blighttown and the Capra demons that roamed the pit below, or the- Shit. The Xenomorph.

He darted back and swung to deflect a testing strike from the praying mantis like arms that held the black blades. The thing's skin was a deep red, with seemingly grown and solidified croppings of armor that stretched around limbs and its torso. The head was covered with a long bulbous nest of that black armor, which was twisted back into a mess of horns as several dozen eyes peered out from between thick girdled chiton

‘Fast, armored, and with blades sharp and durable enough to match mine, I need a better weapon for this, or to change the scenario-’

A clash of blade and bone as he parried another strike, shifting and twisting to try and throw the creature of ba- Bladed tail.

He barely spared attention to his body, as he was forced to skip and twist back across the roof, large gashes and shattered and torn up asphalt marking his motion. Even now, the two girls had barely gotten up and in fighting positions, but given the whiplike speed of that tail, and its swaying motion on digitigrade claws, that was not gonna work. They were gonna be mincemeat.

‘Not ready for this. Fuck. I need- that works.’

Izuku sidestepped a flicker of tail, twisted under the crossing of the black blades that aimed to bisect him, and stepped in close, the sword coming down and then thrust from low in a ruthless lunge that tore right through the things unprotected thigh, setting it off balance just long enough for him to get a grip, fingers hooked around the things lower chest armor at just the right angle. His thick mask-collar began to whir, tensing to deploy.

“FOLLOW THE PLAN!”

With that last shout, Izuku shoved up and across, the beast writhing and the material of his cloak catching and ripping from his shoulders. The fine armor mesh shredding across the blades as it was ripped away by the two scythes, the whirs of his face mask ringing out even as it came into place.

Izuku kicked off the roof, slamming his shoulder and the flat of his sword into the torso of the Hunter. The impact made it twist back, the tail whipping out, only for Izuku’s sword to flicker out lightning-quick, and sever it, leaving both of them off balance and with no real way to recover.

The hunter, driven by panic and instinct, could only release a hissing chatter of rage.

Izuku braced for the impact and made sure that the hunter would hit the ground first.

With a crash, they entered the ruins of the building.

---

 

Then

Izuku choked, the hand around his throat pinning him up against the wall, his legs kicked out, but his smaller stature kept the man, who was referred to as the groom free.

“Young… young and excited. But you are unsightly… yes, far too unsightly. I can fix that! Can fix… you.” the man laughed, and he reached out, looking away as his hand slowly ran over the array of tools on his belt, before with a smile, he drew out a long kitchen knife. “I’ll bring back your beauty… make you a wonderful wife.”

Izuku was not liking where this was going, and as he was lifted higher, the knife drawn back as it was aimed at his crotch, he acted.

One hand had slipped into his beltline when the guy glanced away, and now it was time to use it.

A kick, to knock the kitchen knife off course left him with a bleeding gash across his shin, but it also distracted the Groom.

And that was all he needed to slam his scavenged combat knife into the guy's elbow, and yanked.

The arm spasmed, and Izuku was dropped, but kept his hand tight on the knife, his entire body weight dragging it down and through the joining of the elbow even as Izuku landed on the floor.

He glanced up, trying to see the room, and his eyes were quickly covered with a splash of blood.

Spitting the red from his mouth Izuku heard the roar of rage and lunged, blinded but not stupid enough to hold still as the searing pain of a kitchen knife slamming through his thigh seared through his mind. A frantic blink cleared his sight enough to make out the now one-armed form of the Groom, and reflexes burned into him triggered at the sight.

His hand with the knife slammed around to return the favor, digging into the Grooms' thigh and tearing free and through, before a mix of bloodied hands and bone caught the knife and left it in the meat.

Ignoring the pain from his now horrifically fucked up legs, Izuku staggered up and limped, never more thankful for handrails and tables than as he lunged and threw himself through the room.

The screaming of the Groom echoed from behind him. “HARLOT! SCARLET WOMAN! BETRAYER AND MURDERER! I SHALL LEAVE YOU WITH THE REST OF THE FAKE LOVERS! I SHALL LEAVE YOU FOR THE CROWS!” Izuku turned hi out, and staggered through the building, eyes catching as he found what he was looking for.

The cross that the world over for nearly 300 years, meant one thing.

Medical supplies.

Glancing to make sure that the Groom hadn’t yet found him, Izuku snarled at the pain that was quickly overwhelming him, before shouldering the bathroom door open, and glancin- there. A medical cabinet. Wandering up, he ripped the latch open to reveal a half stocked collection of bandages. He snagged them, sliding them into the bloodstained bag that somehow was still slung across the small of his back. Bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a pack of medical stitches, and a small vial of ‘Wound sealant’ powder.

“Perfect.”

Staggering back with the loot in his bag, he snarled as the shouts and recriminations came closer. He wasn’t sure he could outrun the- Wait. He glanced up, and smirked.

When Eddie busted the door down several minutes later, it was to the trail of blood he was following pooled around an empty medical cabinet. And a bloodied handprint on the wall near an open vent.

“FUCKING WHORRRREEE!!!!”

---

Izuku was in darkness.

The only light was sparse, reflected glow from upper levels that filtered down through the maze of skewed hallways and collapsed ceilings.

But the creature could track him. Could hear and pinpoint any noise he made.

Which made it easy enough to distract.

He swung, the blue-lined world of his visor clearly defined, as the blade sliced through the things thigh- shit. Shit.

He dove back and watched as the blood that seeped from the wound seemed to merely thicken.

As the blades started swinging, he ducked away and kicked off a wall. He had never liked staying in a horizontal fight, so he decided quickly that he needed to get up and out. The dark was doing him no favors with how fast the thing was.

---

 

Kyouka will be the first to admit, the first few minutes after getting teleported to this rooftop? She had not been really thinking or focused. The mix of realizing she was facing real villains, that people were trying to kill her may have hit her like a record scratch during a stage show.

It wasn’t until Midoriya had started yelling out really creative insults and jokes at the oncoming villains to get them to break cover and be stupid reckless, that she got a grip on her thoughts, and got back to business. Momo had been right with her for that, and when the situation was under control, Midoriya started laying out his plans.

And honestly? It was really simple and straightforward.

Gear up, get ready and book it for the atrium or the nearest group of students who were up and active, whichever they reached first or felt was better. Midoriya had suggested they get melee weapons and crowd control, and Momo had started popping grenades like they were candy, much to Kyouka’s approval. She had also got hooked up with a simple single-edged blade. Figuring it would be better than nothing.

Midoriya’s expression of bland doubt when she said that was… fair. Particularly when he ran her through a simple slash and stab technique, his own long blade dancing as he demonstrated, and gave her a simple list of safety rules.

“For fuck's sake- Listen. Edge is pointed away from the body and down if you aren’t fighting, you hold it to the side if your running, and you use both hands if you have to swing or block with it, No wild swings, you chop down or thrust sideways, and then step back to reset. If your blade gets caught, or thrown away, I expect you to kick somebody in the knee and deck em for good measure. A blade is a tool, not your only weapon. And keep the AOE sonics away from friendly fire or the building, they’re designed to start collapsing.”

The fact that he never stopped shooting villains who got cocky while it happened was enough to keep her attention.

Of course, that plan was before the weird fucking creature and Midoriya started fighting.

And she could hear the entire fight happening, even as she and Momo got moving.

Momo had made a grapple, and the two of them slid down to the back of the building, away from the open ground Midoriya had abused as a target range, using the staggered levels of the zone and the buried buildings nearby to take cover. Momo was nervous, cleary considering-

*Bang Bang Bang*

“HAHA, Watch your step pal!”

A roaring chitter that even Momo could hear judging by her violent flinch echoed before a fourth gunshot rang out, and the window facing them from midway up the half-buried building Izuku was in was shattered. Kyouka could see what she had been hearing. Midoriya was dancing through ruined halls and what looked almost like an office, the blade slicing up and skittering past black chitin as he and the monster dueled. The monster was sporting several new gashes that oozed deep black liquid, which merely was solidifying as it fought, while even from here she could see the new scars that marked up Midoriya’s armor, and that the cloak had vanished, leaving only the fur collar that sprouted from the collar of the teen's armor.

“Shit, he needs help!”

“...You're right! Quick, hold this!” Momo tossed Jiro her metal staff, and the gleam of creation began once more.

---

Izuku was really getting pissed off with this fucker. The two had danced up and down the last three floors before the thing wised up to the fact that that he could see in the dark with his mask. Then it had been a matter of going up, abusing the cracked and ripped open infrastructure of the building to jump and climb through spaces that the creature took time to pass through. The fact that this was giving him hardcore Outlast and Alien vibes only made his motions smoother, the muscle memories that only near-death experiences could make stick around this well.

Now, normally he could deal with this. He had spent plenty of time daydreaming and figuring out how he would kill a Xenomorph if he had to, again. And part of his gear was gonna be a key component for that.

But that was the part Mei was still working on. His ‘heavy’ weapon.

As it was, he would have used the plasma cutter, if he was able to get close without using both hands on the blade to match the creatures leverage and speed. As it was, he wasn’t about to use something that if it got cut in his hands would vaporize his arm in a plasma flare.

The fact that any time he actually swung and drew blood it simple calcified into some sort of resin in the air made his entire fight harder. He needed to hurt it somewhere it would feel it, cause bleeding the fucker out wasn’t gonna work.

He hated fighting things that didn’t bleed. It was Raccoon City and Loredan all over again.

The gunshots had helped, but he only had the one clip of actual bullets, since he had to start his fight before he finished stocking up with help from Yaoyorozu’s quirk. He leaped up and off another table, kicking chair up for it to slice through, and lunged. His blade skated off the horned skill, leaving a gouge across the hard structure, and sending one eye-popping in a spurt of blood and fluid.

Sadly, that was when it lashed out and caught him with the back of the blade, the force making him hiss in pain even as he rolled towards the busted window.

He staggered up, eyes blinking as the darkness shifted, swirling as he tried to regain his breath and equilibrium.

And then he saw it, the flickering flash of blades swinging in a broad X shape, and he couldn’t dodge past it in time.

He flipped the sword up, bracing with both hands as he crouched to catch the paired strikes where they would cross.

The impact broke his posture, one foot actually cracking into the floor as a knee buckled, the force and speed faster than he was ready for.

And then he heard it, a creak, a twang of metal warping and twisting.

In his hands, the sword gave way, and with a ringing sound it was shattered, only reflexes born from hour after hour of fighting letting him react in time. His body flinched back, and muscles fired, the dark edges of the blades sliding down, the tips passing within centimeters of his eyes, and the slow drag of the left tip sliced into the metal plating of his mask, barely grazing his jaw as he wrenched his body back.

He dove back and out the open window, shards of the broken sword hanging in the air around him as time seemed to slow, Izuku focusing as the world's clarity seem to dull, reduced to only the most important things.

Gravity

An overextended Hunter

And the fact he had 11 bullets left.

The gun snapped up, ripped free from its holster and safety slammed off even as his arm burned with the motion and he felt the whip-snap of his elbow straining as he took aim. His eyes tracked a blurry spray of blood drops following the motion as Izuku saw a long shard of steel embedded in his forearm, the center of his sword having blasted open under the stress.

He ignored it. It would heal.

Instead, he leveled his handgun dead center on the central looming eye of the hunter, and his finger pulled on the trigger. The bang was muffled, unimportant as Izuku adjusted his aim, and fired, and again, and again, and again. Five blooming flowers of blackened blood sprayed through the air, three from the creatures head, two from each of its legs, fired up and under its armored kneecaps.

As the creature writhed, it’s overextended form was balancing precariously.

And that's when the muffled sound of a much larger caliber weapon echoed out, followed by the entire lower armor of the thing being shattered open. Leaving a perfect opening for Izuku to plug two more rounds through its stomach and up into far more fragile organs.

As time seemed to skip and flicker, Izuku, crumpled, his landing bringing a familiar crunch and twist of a dislocated shoulder as he rolled off a two-story jump he was in a bad angle for rolling out of.

He looked up as he staggered to his feet, the corpse of the hunter laid out next to him as Jirou and Yaoyorozu came jogging his way, a large bolt action rifle in the taller girls grasp.

“Midoriya!” “GREEN!”

The two got closer, and Izuku chuckled, a twist and shift of his arm resetting his shoulder with a surge of pain that he honestly ignored out of sheer unimportance. His body would heal, and he would rather have a working arm that hurt, than a limp arm that threw off his balance and hurt less. As the two girls closed in, he glanced up. “Nice shot, Yaoyorozu-san. Took it clean through the chest.”

Momo blanched and looked over, face tinged green as she took in the armored form and its pooling blood next to them. “Um- Yes. I did.”

“Relax, the thing’s not a person. Trust me, it was all instinct and animal thoughts.” he glanced down, and frowned.

The blood was still pumping- Nope.

His gun came up, still held tight in his hand, and three bullets blew the spine and back half of the head, where it was free of horns, apart, even as it twisted and spasmed, much to the shock of his allies.

“GAh!” “HOLY FUCK!”

“Sorry, wasn’t quite dead.” he commented, and flicked the safety of his gun back on, holstering it even as he kicked the corpse over, taking a moment to inspect the body and how its various abilities seemed to connect.

He ignored the gagging sound of Yaoyorozu as she glanced away from the gore that was a missing chest.

He also avoided reacting as he saw what he was looking for, hidden under the very edges of the various claws and armor.

Surgical scars.

He wasn’t lying. The thing hadn’t been a person, no sapience in its eyes remained when he fought it.

But it had been human at some point. Before someone got… creative.

‘Joy. Bioweapons. Fucking Umbrella all over again.’

Izuku choked the snarl of anger he wanted to let loose deep in his chest and kicked the corpse back face down. As he stood, he glanced at the metal shard that had wedged through the thinner joint of his armor and reached up to yanked it free, the spurt of blood darkening even as he did so.

“Shit Midoriya, you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, it's not that deep. Can you hear anything Jirou?” he glanced up at her even as he checked his gear for damage.

“Nope, all the other villains pulled back when that thing showed up, I did hear a couple call it a ‘Hunter’.” She shook her head with a forced deadpan. “What a stupid name.”

He blinked and chuckled at that, before glancing at Momo. “You good with that rifle? Or is it gonna slow you down.” Izuku asked, unslinging his shotgun and checking it was still intact, the paint rounds almost unused as he double-checked its sturdy construction was still intact, and please to see his design had survived the fall and several slashes from the blades that merely scratched its casing.

Momo glanced down with a pause, and her eyes wide and face pale, and he saw the tremble in her hands increase.

“Leave it. You don’t like firing at people, and teaching you the composition of my paint rounds will take too long, and waste resources.” He snagged the rifle with a gentle motion and a glance was all he needed for Jirou to toss him the stave. “Besides,” he squeezed a concealed lever in the staff’s center, the glowing blue flicker of sparks off the end flaring and drawing the still shocked teens’ eyes. “I do wanna see how good you are with your spark stick here. Come on rich girl, you gonna lag on us?”

Her eyes cleared, the glossy sheen of shock fading as she nodded, a glint of frustration and spite in her eyes blooming. Izuku also swore there was something a bit more bitter in there, and he resolved to remember to address that when they got out alive.

Izuku glanced at the rifle, and noted how it was a single shot bolt action, and made a note.

Teach Yaoyorozu how to make magazine weapons sooner or later, cause she’s a damn good shot.

Dropping it on the corpse, Izuku hefted the shotgun, and glanced up.

“Alright, Back to the plan. Let's move.”

“Yeah, let's blow this gig. I’m not in the mood for an encore anytime soon with this thing.” Kyouka’s snark and her hip bumping Yayorozu was enough to break her still hesitant stance, and the class pres nodded, grip white-knuckled on the staff.

As they jogged, darting through the USJ, Jirou spoke up.

“So when they first got here, I heard what they were saying The guy in white, he mentioned All Might! They were looking for him!”

“That's Insane! All Might’s the premier hero of the age! He’s more than powerful enough to clear most of these villains with time to spare!” Yaoyorozu was shocked and confused, and Izuku would’ve been right there with her, except.

‘The scent of old blood. The faint shift of posture, the hint of disfigured skin visible even through the suit as it pulled tight as All Might flexed…. He wasn’t invulnerable… and if they knew that!’

“Are you sure?” Izuku was thinking fast, and Jiro’s confirmation only made his blood run colder, as he narrowed his eyes.

‘What is the play here? The leader mentioned All Might… Fuck, we are the bait, aren’t we? God, I hate being bait. But if it was bait… No. We’re a Statement. If they kill an entire class of UA students… That's a reputation that's hard to match.’

He thought back to the towering black creature that had followed the leader into the area. The way its eyes had been unfocused while it lumbered behind the hand covered leader. The way that its skin had been twisted and ripped, and compared it to the abnormal design of the Bio-weapon he had just faced. “Momo, I need a favor-”

Izuku blinked and he heard it. The thunderous slam of the USJ’s front doors.

“HAVE NO FEAR! FOR I. AM. HERE.”

Somehow, that didn’t fill Izuku with confidence and joy like it once did. Instead, as his mind pieced things together, he felt that the situation… was about to get worse.

---

 

Shigiraki glanced up and smiled under his hand-mask, while behind him, hanging from the fist of the Nomu by his wrists, was bloodied and limp form of Aizawa.

“Ah, wonderful. Now, we can start on stage 2. Kurogiri, call in the High Leveled Players, and let them keep the… Trash, away. I want this to be… Uninterrupted.” Shigaraki stretched as he rose from a crouch to his full height, twisting as he loosened up his torso.

“Of course, Tomura.”

On the road outside the USJ, looking back towards UA’s main building, seven portals appeared.

---

Then

Izuku hissed as he lay in the vents, one arm over his eyes as he focused past the pain, before looking back down, twisted awkwardly to see his work, as the stitches pulled tight across his wound, a warped and uneven look to it that he was sure was wrong, as he snarled.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He snarled and pulled the needle through once more, and the last of the gaping wound where the knife had been pulled tight. He had almost blacked out when he had poured the cauterizing powder in earlier, the thick power burning like acid as it stopped the bleeding. The stitches closing it was just the icing on the cake of pain.

As he pulled the last messy stitch close, he knotted the string, before he snipped the needle loose. Slowly relaxing, he hissed in pain and fumbled for a roll of bandages, to match the one around both his swollen knee and the other gash across his shin, which was far shallower.

Breathing deeply, he glanced around and shifted to go down through another vent, dragging himself further through the pipe, until he could see a new grate, with light past it.

He paused.

“Who the hell is that?”

Below, the unconscious form of Waylon Park lay still.

Chapter 18: Animation Interrupted

Summary:

The gyre winds closer.
In the game, Izuku learns more, finding the threads of the truth of Outlast.
In the USJ, a Symbol begins to break.

Now

Toshinori Yagi had faced plenty of dangerous fights, had seen hundreds of people hurt and threatened by villains.

None had ever caused him such sheer, unbridled, rage.

He focused and moved, gathering his students he could see around the stairs down, leaving dazed and unconscious villains as he passed. In seconds he had almost half the class gathered. Todoroki and Tsuyu were both deathly cold, while Tokoyami, Shouji, and Aoyama were likewise drenched in mud and rain. The five students barely had a chance to blink and comment, standing at the entrance landing, before All Might vanished.

And then he rushed forwards and tackled the larger black skinned villain, grunting even as the figure barely stepped back.

But it did let Aizawa go, and that was all he required.

He flickered back to the top of the stairs with a series of bounding leaps, setting down and leaving his injured comrade for the rest of the UA staff to assist while he took care of the villains.

As he leapt back down, he landed heavily on the plaza tile, glaring at a slow clapping villain with black clothes covered in hands.

“Bravo… Bra- fucking- vo. Behold, the Conquering Hero, the Pillar of Peace.” The voice was condensed spite and disdain. But All Might only felt more anger. Was this why his students were injured? Some poorly thought out attempt at him?

“I DON’T KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU THINK YOU ARE!” His voice boomed as his muscles tensed and tightened. “BUT YOU’VE THREATENED MY STUDENTS.” The ground beneath him cracked as he braced for his attack. “AND THAT MEANS I AM GOING TO TAKE YOU IN.”

The shattering of concrete, the kick of air and pressure, the shockwave of his fist flying forwards-

And a massive torso taking the blow.

His first landed with a solid smack of flesh on steel, the thick metal plate around the creature’s torso denting with the impact…

But not caving in like it should have.

He barely had time to raise his eyebrow before a clawed and gauntleted hand came crashing down, the metal plates looking fused to the villain’s flesh.

“It's no use! This is the Anti-Symbol of Peace! BIO-ENGINEERED TO KILL YOU, ALL MIGHT!”

Yagi tensed and lowered his stance.

It seemed this wasn’t going to be easy.

He just hoped that the rest of the staff would get here soon…

---

“God, what a drag.” Long black hair swayed as the speaker shifted, tightening his, and adjusting his gear.

Behind him, and to either side, the portals that had just broken him out of Tartarus vanished. He glanced around, eyebrows quirking as he recognized two of the others, people who had been in his own cellblock. There was Mortal, who’s Quirk generated a substance that attacked and destroyed blood, and at the end of the line behind him was Ash Eater, whose body was already starting to glow with heat, with the inhibitor collar that had been removed by their jailbreaker melting in her grip.

He didn’t recognize the other four. One of them had skin that twisted up into sharp edges and spires of crystal that was growing like armor and jewelry from the guy’s naked torso, another had a cloud of black mist in his hand that seemed to flicker and shift as it moved. The biggest of the group was near twice his height and was growing scales and spines even as he watched. The last person was next to him, a slender chick with ornate tattoos and scars that crossed her exposed arms. Apparently, she took his gaze as a challenge, snarling at him and showing off sharp fangs instead of teeth.

“Whoa, not planning to start shit, pal.” He held up his hands and glanced away, seeing the dust of a pair of cars rushing his way. “Besides, it seems we have an actual fight to deal with.” he gestured with a scowl, and the chick took off, flickering as she moved with feral grace towards the cars. Apparently that was the signal to move out for the rest of the chucklefucks who had joined in for this venture.

Sighing, Kazuto, the ‘Black Ronin’ reached up and began to tie his long ponytail back, chuckling as he felt the familiar weight of armor and his weapons across his form.

“Ah, it’s nice to go walkabout.”

He finished his ponytail and reached for his side, pulling the Daito-Shoto pair with familiarity, even as his Quirk began to pulse through him, electrical energy and plasma slowly tracing lines that hung around his arms and armor.

As the rest of the villains crashed into the melee of the heroes with roars and brutal attacks, Kazuto paced behind them with a sharp grin and his black eyes gleaming.

“Let's see if I can actually add to my high score…”

He wanted to break the count of 200 killed by his blades before he got locked back up, after all.

---

Then

“So, what you’re telling me is that you know what that monster on the loose is?” came Izuku’s low voice, glancing at the black-haired man with him.

“More than a monster. It’s a weapon. Some sort of nanobot swarm called the Walrider. It requires a host to command it, but it’s what’s been ripping through the soldiers and administration. The fact that it messes with people's minds and drives them insane is just a messed up side effect of how they’re controlling it.”

“Great. Exactly what we needed.” Izuku snarked, glancing around the next corner.

Izuku limped, one arm helping the still unsteady form of Waylon, as they wandered through the upper hallways of the ward, both keeping an ear out and holding weapons to use against any of the variants who got touchy. Izuku held the kitchen knife in his left hand and was using a broken off table leg as a cane in his right. Meanwhile, Waylon had a chunk of pipe in his off-hand, the other bracing itself on the teen as they moved.

“So how the fuck do we shut it down.”

“Uhhh… shit. Shutting it down is gonna be hard. The System, the Morphogenic Engine? It’s massive. You can probably reach it through the Administration black. There's an entire underground complex down there, but getting through it is gonna be an issue. The Engine makes variants, and that's where the testing labs and holding cells were for the most dangerous of them. If you want to get through… You’ll need a couple of keys. I would help, but I’ve already been locked out when they shoved me in the Engine.” With a grunt, Waylon glanced back and shifted his stance to keep the weight off his bad leg.

“You were in the Engine?” Izuku glanced at the man next to him. Thin and reedy, he was clearly a computer nerd. The bruises and bandages were covering some of his skin, but he didn’t have the same deformities as the variants.

“Yep. Sent a message out to a reporter a few weeks ago. Hope they get someone to come to deal with this shit.”

Izuku blinked and realized who exactly he was stuck in the role of. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?”

“There's a jeep out front… but no reporter. What do you think the odds are he got killed.” Izuku deadpanned even as he shifted, glancing up the next hallway as the duo moved on.

“Fuck.”

As the two stepped around the next door, they froze.

There, down the hallway, was The Groom.

“WHORES!”

In a show of sheer exasperation, both Waylon and Izuku glanced at each other and spoke in unison. “Oh This Cocksucker.”

And then Eddie Gluskin was running at them, with one arm and a fire axe and death in his eyes..

---

Now

“Shit. No time. Jirou, head to the control room, see if you can get the internal security to reboot.”

“Understood… stay safe, Green.”

As she ran off, Izuku turned and looked down from the cliff face he was perched on, seeing the distant form of the Nomu crash against the form of the Symbol of Peace. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, blowing back hair and ripping at clothing.

Izuku wasn’t blind or stupid though. He could see it. Could read it in the motion of the fighters.

All Might was faltering.

They had no time left to plan.

Suddenly he heard the hiss of creation stop and Momo sigh in relief.

“Done!”

He turned and smiled, lips quirking up as he took in the gleaming silvery-white blade she held. The flickering coating across it already forming as it rested in the air.

“Perfect. Alright, remember. Head to the entrance, Aizawa needs medical help, and you’re the best bet. Beyond that… check outside. I’m worried that they’re gonna be held up.”

He glanced back down, spinning the blade in his hand as he adjusted to its weight. A wince as All Might staggered just a step, made him start to stand.

“Hey, Midoriya?” Momo’s voice was soft, and he glanced back.

“Hmm?”

The gentle crush of her arms around him, a squeeze of her body to his, and a soft whisper. “Be safe.”

Before he could really process, she was already off, sprinting for the tall staircase up to the entrance, as Izuku felt the memory of her warm breath on his ear.

“Huh?” He glanced back down and bit his lip before sighing, shaking himself to refocus.

“I can deal with the fact I got a hug later…”

His eyes narrowed, and he rose from his slouch, stretching as he took in the monster, his eyes roaming its form as it swung and roared, his pulse seemed to spike, to reach a fever pitch…

And then, he reached deep, and stopped acting human.

His body twitched and spasmed, his muscles straining at his skin as he gasped and panted.

No witnesses who I care about.

His blood pressure spiked, before balancing out.

Nobody who can get hurt by me.

His eyes dilated, the irises expanding until there was only a thin ring of green, before contracting back to almost normal.

Nobody but them.

With a slow stretch, his mouth drew into a smile.

“Let’s see how you handle a real monster.”

Above him, Kuro shifted to float higher as the first tendrils of killing intent began to reach it.

---

Present Mic screamed, the force of his shockwave throwing the largest of the villains, a massive creature with scales and misshapen arms, back. The rest of the heroes were just as focused, dealing with villains who had come to stop them.

Present Mic could name every one of them.

The large one was called Golgothian and used a transformation Quirk that grew mass and scales around him. The creature he became was staggered but already growing more spikes and scales as it roared.

To the side, pink mist flowed in small bursts even as Nemuri danced around the feral looking lady. That was Rabid, and she had a mutated adrenaline system and muscles - fast, dangerous, and apparently doesn’t sleep even when dosed with massive levels of sleeping gas. It was bad.

Hizashi cursed as a wall of crystal began to creep around the front of the group, and unleashed his own Quirk in response. He knew that one personally, and had put him away before. The villain went by Fractal. With a whistle enhanced by his Quirk, the flare of sound cracked and shattered the growth, just in time for a wave of concrete to lash up and swamp Fractal.

Sadly, it was only gonna hold the villain for a few minutes.

Mortal lunged from the shards of crystal, hands outstretched for an attack on Vlad King, before the metallic fist of Power-Loader crashed into him, flinging him back and away from the fight.

The sound of a gunshot rang out, and the most dangerous of the 7 villains reacted, flickering plasma and a spark as his shoto deflected the bullet.

The mere thought of fighting him made Present Mic nervous.

Black Ronin. A villain who killed Heroes and Villains for the sheer thrill.

Even now, the cooling corpse of Warp Touch, who was another mass killer, was sitting blackened and smoking in a pool of his own blood and grease because Ronin was bored by his attacks.

A pair of Ecto-clones finally managed to tackle Feral, holding her down long enough for a cloud of dense pink mist to overcome the woman's adrenaline production.

“Drats, we cannot let these villains prevent us from reaching the USJ! Kan, Hound Dog, escort Recovery Girl and assist All Might, Ecto-plasm, Power Loader, double down on Mortal, Hizashi, distract Golgothian!”

Nodding at the order, Present Mic breathed deep, and began to scre-

A flicker of blue plasma, and a spark of lightning slammed into the collar Hizashi wore, the mechanism all but exploding and sending Present Mic back.

He crashed into the ground with a gasp, feeling the intense sensation of an electrical burn across his chest.

“Interesting. It seems your suit insulated you enough to live. That's rare.”

The cool and disinterested voice of Ronin rang out as he paced closer, blade still glowing with the heat of his lightning strike.

“I suppose that's all you have though. A shame.”

With dead eyes, he raised his katana, a flicker of blue plasma arcing along the blade as he prepared another strike.

Hizashi closed his eyes as the crack of thunder rang out once more.

---

Then

Waylon screamed out as he fell, the splash of blood from his stomach painting the floor even as Izuku tried to stagger up, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to keep his dislocated arm from moving. The fight was fast, messy, and entirely one-sided. Whether it was because he had the body of a variant, or because he was stronger, the Groom had pushed them back and beaten them with savage glee, each and every strike too heavy to block. The burned off end of his left arm was only an annoyance instead of a hinderance.

And now, screaming, Waylon was dying. The red metal of the fire axe gleamed with dark blood, and the darkened hallway was lit more from the flares of lightning than the flicker of the overhead lights.

“THAT'S RIGHT, WHORE! YOU AND THE LITTLE HARLOT ARE GONNA DIE!”

A wrench and the oh-so-familiar sound of guts squelching and shifting heralded the axe blade coming loose.

Izuku grunted and tried to rise, only for a kick to the gut to send him sprawling.

His arms were quickly pinned by the Groom’s knees, holding Izuku down as the manic face looked at him.

“Oh, but you… You harlot… so beautiful in the dark… I could have done such things with you… made you perfect.”

Izuku snarled and spat, bloodied spit spraying across the front of the Groom’s outfit, even as the fist around the haft of the axe slammed into his face for the insult.

“BUT NO! YOU HAVE TO BE A WORTHLESS MALFORMED SLUT!” The back of his fist met Izuku’s temple and slammed his head to the side, sending the world fading in and out from the pain.

“I SHALL PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY!”

With that scream, the Groom pulled his arm back, his axe glinting in the lighting flare of the hallway as it reached its peak...

---

Now

All Might slid back, gasping as steam slowly began to drift off his form.

The Nomu was too strong… Its shock absorption was taking too much of his strikes, and the thing’s regeneration was keeping it fresh and ready, and every strike Yagi threw was weaker by ever so much as he burned his energy.

“Ah, this is priceless! The Symbol of Peace, driven into the dirt.”

The Nomu slammed forwards, metal plating bloodied from the both of them fighting. The exposed brain and bird-like maw of the creature was on display, an early strike of All Might’s fist denting and tearing away the protective barrier. Around the creature's throat, however, a large gorget of armor still stood proud.

It roared, charging forwards to meet All Might in a clash before the two locked together. All Might’s hands were gripped tight to the metal knuckles that were embedded in the beast’s flesh, while the larger beast leaned in to apply crushing force to the Symbol of Peace.

Yagi groaned in stress and pain, feeling his muscles tense and quiver under the strain, before inch by inch the creature pushed its advantage.

He couldn’t hold out, couldn’t beat the creature in a game of strength…

---

And then, the games changed.

Smoke drifted through the air, blood splattered across the ground.

“Ha…. Ha…… HAHAHA…”

The crazed laughter of the Black Ronin echoed through the area as the fight around him raged on.

Below him, Present Mic looked on in disbelief as a large chunk of flesh sprayed blood. In the center of Black Ronin’s torso, a hole nearly the size of a soda can was dripping with red and shredded muscles.

A shot through the heart.

With a slow, almost elegant motion, the villain sank to his knee’s hand reaching up to his chest to feel at the missing chunk.

“Heh… nice…. Shot.”

And with that, the Black Ronin closed his eyes.

Behind them, through the entirety of the battle that still ranged, Snipe breathed a sigh of relief that his comrade had lived, before turning to shoot once more at the form of Mortal, firing to make the villain retreat from attempting to kill an exhausted Midnight, even as Power Loader and the Ecto-clones rushed the villain.

God damn. We need to finish this shit up before it’s too late.

---

Then

The thunk of steel on linoleum echoed out as the axe slipped from lifeless hands.

From the throat of Eddie Gluskin, the jagged edge of a pipe gleamed red, the still wild eyes of the madman stared with glazed fury, even as the movement within slowed.

“Fuck… OFF!”

A shove, and the body collapsed.

There, guts hanging out even as he stood, was Waylon.

Blood splattered the ground as two figures collapsed, and Izuku could only stare.

“Shit… SHIT SHIT SHIT!” he scrambled to his knees, pain forgotten even as he ripped his stitches, crawling to Waylon’s side.

“Sorry… Kid… He… He got me pretty good… But I got him back...” the wheeze was wet and thick, and in the exposed chunk of the man's chest, a bubble popped as lungs tried to push air in too many ways.

“No… fuck… No…” Izuku was frantic, hands covered in blood as he tried to… do something.

“Kid… Stop the Walrider… It’s… up to you...” with one more gurgle of blood and air, Waylon began to go still, his blood slowing in his veins.

“Shit… SHIT… WAYLON? WAYLON!” Izuku screamed, covered in blood as Waylon Park died.

---

Now

“THIS IS THE END! WATCH AS THE SYMBOL OF PEACE DIES!”

Shigaraki screamed loudly as he laughed at the state of All Might. The Nomu now towered over the hero’s crouched and battered form, arms barely holding back the fatal fists of the creature.

And then, a flicker of motion.

From over the head of All Might, a flash of metal passed like a bullet and slammed home with a fleshy thud, sliding through the two hemispheres of the brain of the creature as it screamed in pain.

All Might staggered as the pressure left, leaving him off balance and heaving for breath on one knee.

Which meant he was the same height as the black and green wraith that swayed past him at a sprint, one foot kicking off the ground as another caught on the knee of the roaring beast.

The white of a fur collar contrasted starkly against the dark, ragged skin of the Nomu, even as the new fighter leaped up, one knee at the creature's neck and a hand wrapping tightly on the hilt of the weapon embedded in the Nomu’s skull.

“NOMU!”

The beast’s scream choked off as it staggered back, off-balance and frenzied by the new threat.

“Shut the fuck-” a tensed movement and the blade slid deeper “-Up.”

With a choked cry, the creature collapsed to its back, leaving a kneeling form over its head.

As he rose, the weapon came into view. A spear, the blade buried in the head of the Nomu, its long shaft reaching to the sky like a banner.

But as he rose, All Might did not feel safe… or rescued…

No. The smooth motion of the teen as he rose up, the casual air as his fingers remained around the spear’s haft, and the scarred armor and mask that protected Young Midoriya’s face… made a young man into a faceless being of casual death. The fact he was already splattered in bloodied marks only emphasized his state.

Wreathing him was something that carried more weight than his appearance. A killing intent seemed to flow like the tide around him, sending shivers up All Might’s spine and making the leader of the villains take a step back.

For a moment, there was silence, before Midoriya spoke, his voice layered as it leaked through both his ruined mask and his still-intact voice changer.

“I suppose that your classic boast would work right now, Sensei… but I feel like I have a more accurate statement to make.”

A wrench of the spear, the gleaming white of the blade snapping off to remain embedded in the brainstem of the Nomu, leaving Izuku with a long black metal stave in his grip, and his head tilt at an almost... jaunty, angle.

“You Should Be Very Afraid. For I Am Here.”

The gleaming blue of Izuku’s visored mask was merciless…

And Shigaraki could only shiver in anticipation.

‘Stage three…. Has begun.’

Chapter 19: Fighting Games 101

Summary:

Izuku faces Shigaraki.

Now

“Ah… Midoriya Izuku… Pleasure to meet you, again.” Even having taken a step back, the blue haired villain slowly flexed and loosened his muscles.

Izuku gave him a look, and shifted, glancing over his shoulder at the form of the Pillar of Peace.

“All Might. Go save the rest.”

The sound of the hero trying to speak started, but Izuku was already dismissing him, his focus narrowing and his body tensing.

Shigaraki opened his mouth to say something.

Izuku didn’t give him a chance to talk.

He stepped in and twisted, body shifting so the shaft in his hand whipped through the air. Swinging up as he let the mass slide through his fingers, the jagged metal end from where he had snapped the blade darted forwards like a snake as it slammed into the raised cross of the villain’s arms. There was the clear ringing of metal on metal and the flash of broken shards as the last of the blade shattered, tearing the long flowing sleeves of the villain’s clothes apart to reveal layered metal bracers under the grip of the hands along his arms.

Izuku stepped in, the shaft rebounding from the block just past him, and with a shift he twisted it back, bracing the stave across his arm to redirect it, even as, with a flash of his hand, the villain caressed the end of the stave as it left his reach.

As Izuku dragged it back, he saw the billowing dust from the end of the four foot spear shaft, as it began to fall apart under its own weight, the disintegration quirk tearing it apart. As he completed the start of his spin he took a half step back to All Might, who was now billowing steam and vanished. Izuku was still paying attention to his surroundings, even as he took in the steaming hero and the shift of pink- and he was feeling the weight of the air current as the villain swiped at his spine and missed by inches from his step away.

The staff was already down to a mere 3 and a half feet, and getting shorter, so he decided to use it now.

A tightened grip, and it came slamming around like the fist of god, ripping at the air as he drew its momentum and speed around, before slamming it full force into the crossed arms of the villain. Shigaraki gripped it tight on impact, sending the entire thing shimmering, even as the force drove him a half step back, Izuku letting his grip slide away as the gleaming of the Quirk washed over the handle.

In a second, the staff shifted into a cloud of glittering black and metal dust.

Izuku had already stepped past it however, his visor flickering into bright contrast as he drove his fist through the opening in the villain’s guard, the punch slamming into the older teen’s chest like a sledgehammer and sending Shigaraki stepping back. His next fist slammed into a raised arm hard enough to drive the man back in a half turn before he slashed up, a knife now held in line with his fist from where he had yanked it from his belt. Sparks flew off the metal bracers as Shigaraki cursed, the blade skidding past his guard to draw a flash of blood from a shoulder.

As clawed swings rushed back, Izuku slid and twisted, shifting sideways and swinging his clenched fist down hard and fast on the knee… only to feel the impact of armor on armor. Using the impact he shoved off, sliding and pivoting back from his crouched angle, stepping back and weaving as a rush of swipes came flowing after him, each attack designed to make the most contact if it hit.

Izuku’s pulse was steady.

He snapped a kick out low, digging in the dust as Shigaraki stepped back, both pausing to assess.

As the two broke apart, Izuku hissed out from his mask.

“Close.”

His hand came up and with the click of a quick release, he let a panel from his shoulder slide free and drop, the now visible sign of decay spreading across the armor piece before he kicked it away.

“You too.”

The trickle of blood from Shigaraki’s shoulder was already starting to dye his shirt a familiar dark red sheen, and with a clenched ripping motion the thick black shirt was pulled away and disintegrated, revealing a thin vest of ballistic armor, and a skintight black underlayer. From here, Izuku could see the right shoulder strap was now hanging loose where it had slowed his knife. Along each arm, which was still covered in hands, were thin black metal gauntlets that reached to the older man's wrists.

“I wondered why I didn't hit the arteries.”

And like that, they lunged, going back for another round.

---

Then

Izuku panted in pain and exhaustion. At his side, a length of pipe was dented and bloodstained, leaning against the corner of the bathroom he had locked himself in while he ran water from the tap, trying to remove the blood covering his arms. When the water was finally running clear instead of pink, he sighed and staggered over to the pipe, his movements reigniting the pain of his fucked-up legs even as he leaned on the pipe as a crutch.

“Okay… finally got back to administration… now, where the hell is the way down to the complex?”

He slumped against the door, slowly unlocked it and leaned out, glancing down the hallway. He waited, breath slow and quiet, before moving out, the pipe clicking on the floor softly, metal on linoleum as he stepped forwards.

He glanced around the landing as he reached the stairwell.

“I’ve been down that way, but where…”

A thud rang out and Izuku spun and felt his heart skip a beat.

Massive, bloodied, and smiling.

Chris Walker stared at him from the door down the hall.

“Well fuck.”

The chase that followed was not much of one.

Even fully healed and free to move, Walker had been able to keep up with Izuku at a full sprint.

Maimed?

It wasn’t even a competition.

As the impact of Walker’s fist slammed him through a desk, Izuku gasped out, spit and blood spraying as something in his chest snapped.

‘I can’t breath can’t breath can’t breath Can’t FUcking BReathe’

He wasn’t able to focus, to think past the pain in his chest as he tried desperately to suck in air, the world seeming to flare and flicker as he fought to-

“Another Piggy Trophy.”

The feeling in his chest was joined by a crushing pressure on his neck, and a twist-

And he sat up in the Simulation Room, breathing long gasping breaths. He reached up, touching at his neck and chest as he hyperventilated, feeling the stress slowly start to fade, before he shifted and staggered to his feet, the blanket of the bed left behind as he stumbled to the bathroom.

He needed a long, scalding hot shower.

He needed to feel. 

---

 

Now

Now Jiro crouched and glanced around the corner, listening as she picked up the buzz of electronics and the faint heartbeat of the villain who had taken over the USJ’s security computers.

“- can’t allow someone with my personal history into UA - fucking assholes. See how you like me now.”

The tall woman sitting at the computer bank wore a geeky shirt and had large glasses, and her fingers clacked across the keyboard with frantic energy.

Jiro breathed slowly and crept around the door, her blade held out and low.

“Now, let’s see what you have in the computer, you pretentious-”

With one last step, Jiro lunged and grabbed the lady by the back of the shirt, dragging her from the chair and slamming her to the ground, blade to her throat.

“Are you the one jamming communications?”

“Wha-”

With a snarl, Jiro slammed her fist into the girl’s face and then pressed the blade to the girl’s skin, making the older woman freeze.

“Answer. The question. Did you jam the communications.”

“Ye-Yeah! It’s my Quirk!”

Her pulse was going crazy, but Jiro was good at listening to the changes.

Lying.

She slammed her fist back into the girl’s face, blood splattering the floor as her nose cracked. “Don’t bullshit me. What’s jamming the signal.”

A gasp and heavy breathing, only broken when Jiro started to put the faint pressure of the blade down.

“IT’S THE BOX OVER THERE.”

Truth.

“Thanks.”

Drawing the blade back, she slammed the pommel into the woman's temple, and her body went limp.

Moving up and over, she opened the box the girl had gestured towards, finding a mess of wires and transmitters. Looking, she found a car battery that must have been powering it, and with a quick yank, pulled the wires to it, the entire bundle dying without its power.

With that done, she glanced at the computer console and moved to it, remembering her goal, as Izuku explained while they moved from the landslide zone.

‘We need someone coordinating the people. There's speakers across the dome, which means there's either a sound system, or an intercom. You could use either one. Get people moving in the same direction, and get them safe. The faster we reinforce one location, the longer we can hold out.’

She glanced over the various screens. There were camera feeds, plenty of them showing villains who had been knocked out, but she eventually found the ones she needed. Now she just needed to get them moving… there.

A click, as she slid her ear-jack home, before flipping familiar sliders and sound mixers across a new screen, and selecting the full-arena audio.

“Wait, shit… If I shout then everyone will know… I… I just need them to get there.” She paused, and then an idea came to mind. Quickly, she started opening and flipping through the maps and locations of the speakers, until she found the right one. The speakers directly above the entrance.

‘Come on Jimi… help a girl out.’

She selected the right speakers, and flipped the volume all the way up.

She hit play and moved to tie up the woman who was still unconscious on the floor, even as the first riffs began to ring out. Hopefully the others would get the damn message.

“There must be some kind of way outta here-”

---

“-said the joker to the thief.”

Bakugou glanced up as he stepped out of the last streets of the ruins zone, hearing the thrum of music echoing from the entrance to USJ, and paused.

“Someone has a plan…” He glanced back, the other members of his impromptu team following his lead.

Uraraka blinked. “Is that Hendrix?”

“Hell yeah, it is round face. And he’s calling us back to the rest of the class, let’s fucking go.” “Hey, hey, No reason to get excited”

---

“-The thief he kindly spoke”

Shouji ignored the sound of music as he focused instead on the life-or-death fight down below him, arrays of eyes focused solely on the two slender figures.

The fight that was leagues above anything he had ever seen before.

Gleaming black metal and hands that destroyed all they held lashed out, a rapid and manic energy fueling them as he lunged and clawed after the death of his enemy.

And against him, a wraith in green and grey, fighting back with a level of speed and style that seemed… feral. Even looking on from a distance, something about it made his skin crawl, and his hair stand up in fear. The knife the teen was using was already tinted red, and it flickered and flashed like an angry viper, always warding or striking at just the right time.

He could also track the passing of All Might, the flare of color and downed villains leaving a clear trail. He glanced as the form of the class president came rushing past him, already making a beeline for the limp form of 13-sensei.

He was drawn back to the fight below as it seemed to slow, the two fighters separating, even more panels of Midoriya’s armor dropping to the floor, along with the now disintegrating mask he had worn.

“All along the watchtower-”

---

“-Princes kept the view”

Izuku breathed out slowly, feeling the familiar burn of acid in his blood, of stress in his muscles and heat under his skin. In the distance, the sound of guitars only made the moment feel more surreal and oversaturated.

It felt like living.

It felt like life.

Across from him the blue-haired leader of the villains was dripping blood, bright red streaks that wept from the long shallow slashes across his shoulders and hands. Attempts at getting in and disabling that had been met with the ever-present threat of those hands, which had already taken and affected most of the armor across his right side, which was now dust sitting across the plaza. Even his mask had suffered a hit, but at the cost of a large gash that ran along Shigaraki’s jaw.

As he paced, he listened, hearing the slow scratching and squelching behind him, and the deep slow breaths of Shigaraki.

It was gonna happen any minute now, and he could feel it - the tension - as Shigaraki bought himself just a bit more time by talking.

“Why do you even want this system to stay intact, why do you even fight, survivor.”

Izuku met his red eyes with a cool and level gaze, already thinking of his next move, muscles slowly preparing as he flooded adrenaline through them, letting his body prep for the next part of this dance.

“Is it because that's all you know? Did you finally buy into the party line? Wanna give Sugo the satisfaction of a job well done?”

Izuku let a soft huff fall through his lips. “Really now, did you think I would rise to the bait? I wonder… did you learn anything from the streams?”

He heard the crack of stone shifting on stone and wanted to grin as the scene began to play out. Ahead of him, the blue-haired teen’s eyes glinted with a surge of manic rage, and Izuku knew he had poked the right button.

With a snarl, Shigaraki gave the command. “NOMU, KILL THE GREEN ONE.”

A roar, and the sound of cracking pavement, of lunging steps moving just this side of supersonic as it rushed him.

He waited, pacing his thoughts.

As always, the timing was the key to the world.

He stepped one foot back-

The Nomu closed in, rising up, swinging its fist back as it primed its attack-

The twist, his entire upper body swinging into the motion, the very tip of his force channeled down his left arm, muscles bulging as their long awaited moment came, screaming with stress as he felt his body reach the very limit of what it could do without breaking, just for a moment.

The Nomu swung down, fist aimed to crush the teen’s head into the ground.

Izuku’s knife reached its wrist first.

The pivot drove the blade into the fold of the Nomu’s wrist, the steel sliding between the ulna and the carpels as the force slammed into it.

‘Shock absorption doesn’t negate momentum, merely impact’

The blade shattered, snapping from the hilt.

Izuku didn’t care, its job was done.

He shifted, hopping only barely as the shockwave of the fist slamming into the ground at his side rang out, cracking the pavement, even as he finished his twist, coming to stand back-to-chest with the Nomu, the beak leaning over his right shoulder as it seemed to pause for just a second.

It was dumb, a crude organic killing machine, and when something didn’t work it struggled to adjust, just for a second, just long enough.

From the corner of his eye, Izuku marked his target, the off-white gleam of thea blade, now wrapped in layers of neural tissue as the Nomu’s brain reformed around the barbed piece of metal.

From his hip, his right arm came up, finger thumbing the safety as he planted the nozzle of his plasma cutter in the Nomu’s jaw.

“What,-”

He pulled the trigger, eyes averted as the flare of white plasma and heat bloomed over his shoulder. The Nomu screamed and reared back in uncomprehending agony as its head became a torch, the brilliant white glow of magnesium shining as it burned, before the sparking and twisting of the thermite in the blade caught, increasing the heat a dozen fold. It flowed from the magnesium shell to seep into and through the skull, the Nomu now flailing as it tried to comprehend, to respond with the entirety of its cranium a glowing jack-o’-lantern of molten metal.

“-no head?.”

The seizure of the Nomu slowed and it collapsed, falling limp behind him, as the manic eyes of Shigaraki looked on.

“What… No… no no no no no-”

“Oh yes.” Izuku felt the adrenaline surge, the spite and satisfaction so great that he had the faintest twitch of a grin. He dropped the now empty plasma cutter, letting it clatter to the ground as he took one slow step forward, not bothering to draw another knife as he watched Shigaraki’s body like a bug pinned to the exam table.

“YOU CAN’T PARRY THE NOMU! YOU CAN’T!” The pitch and volume of the blue-haired villain was rising, and Izuku could see it, the flicker of madness.

“Well. Maybe you can’t. You’re a fucking casual after all.” Izuku pushed his mouth into a snarling smile. He stared into Shigaraki’s eyes, focused on the emotion, the intent, and his smile became vicious at what he saw.

He saw Shigaraki’s restraint snap, and his anger takes the wheel.

The villain lunged, hands outstretched, eyes feral and aggressive, a snarl on his lips.

Izuku grinned and stepped to meet him, one hand resting at his side as the villain’s hands neared.

And swerved.

He swung his empty left hand up and grabbed the hands on Shigaraki’s arms, yanking tight so they were standing nearly shoulder to shoulder, face to face.

Shigaraki was turning, eyes focused on Izuku, even as he pulled his other hand up.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened, eyes reflecting the black depths of the weapon, his expression turning to one of terror as he tried to backpedal, jerking his head back.a

Izuku pulled the trigger on his handgun, the echo of the shot ringing in his ear as a spray of crimson spread through the air, followed by the clink of his shell hitting the ground.

‘And that's bullet 15.'

---

 

Then

Outlast

Death count: 3

Izuku sat against the computer bank, holding his stomach as blood slowly seeped from the holes in his gut.

“Okay… Okay, I think that's everything.”

He glanced up at the now empty glass chamber, and the dead corpse of the host of the Walrider.

“I can do it… One more… I only need one more…”

He had spent the last three lives exploring the entirety of the asylum. From Richard Tagert, the crazed administrator turned vivisectionist, to the chapel and the death of Father Martin. He had seen it all. And now? Now he knew where the lab was. What waited for him in the depths of the asylum.

He was ready. He was ready.

He glanced down and sighed as he saw the blood pooling faster than he could keep it in, and made a choice.

He needed to die, to reset, and he wasn’t going to do it bleeding out.

Been there, done that, ruined the T-shirt for it too.

He breathed deep and forced the familiar hesitation down before reaching up and grabbing his jaw and temple.

‘Snap.’

The world went black, and moments later Izuku sat up in his bed.

“One more time.”

---

Now 

The gunshot had gotten All Might’s attention, and with a curse he rushed to the scene, worried about the safety of his young student-

He skidded to a stop as he eyed the scene.

There, sitting in a growing pit of disintegrated and decayed concrete, was the writhing form of the villain who had commanded the beast, the body of which sat, smoking from an empty skull, only a few meters away.

Standing at the edge of the pit, Midoriya-san paced, eyes intent like a wolf waiting for its prey.

All Might was approaching when Shigaraki snapped his gaze up, and couldn’t help the flicker of bile from rising up his throat.

The young man’s right eye was gone, only a bloodied trench that tore through the side of his face left, bone shattered and scraped clean. The start of the trench even cut through the middle finger of the hand that covered his face gas mask style, which may have been the only reason he didn’t get the bullet lodged on the inside of his skull.

“Kurogiri…. KUROGIRI!”

The mist of the warp villain appeared, and Izuku stepped back, All Might tensing as he took in the variables. The villain startled as he took in the state of the pavilion, before warping to support the younger villain.

“What- Tomura! We must retreat.”

“I know.”

Izuku tensed, clearly preparing to act, before Shigaraki locked his sole red eye on the green of his opponent.

“I shall ruin all you hold dear, Izuku Midoriya. Warp us.”

Izuku burst into movement, a knife was thrown through the air-

-only to pass through the mist left behind as the two villains vanished.

As the knife embedded in the concrete of the fountain, Izuku seemed to slump, eyes alert but body seeming to sway ever so slightly.

“That could have been easier.”

All Might could only blink in confusion at the younger hero, the deep and consistent air of threat dissipating like morning dew in the desert sun, leaving only the stoic but familiar form and feel of his student.

‘What the actual fuck was that.’

They both jolted as the door to the USJ slammed open, the horde of teachers barging in to freeze at the scene.

From his side, All Might could barely make out the muttered complaint.

“‘Bout time the calvary showed up.”

And then, like a doll with its strings sliced, Izuku seemed to sag and fumble, eyes closed even as his knees hit the floor, and he seemed to slip into a deep slumber, knelt Seiza in the blood spray across the cracked pavement.

Chapter 20: A Sudden End

Then

Izuku moved quickly once he found himself in the car. He popped open the glove box to grab the medical kit before darting from the jeep at a run, camera in his pocket and bag at his side. A split second to dart into the guard hut and grab both the battery and the roll of bandage, before he sprinted up the front plaza of the asylum. He mantled over the wall, barely slowing as he headed for the scaffolding and scaled up the structure before climbing through the window. At his entrance, the single light died and he glanced around, eyes already adapting to the darkness as he found the overturned table, metal legs stretching up into the air.

Planting his foot, he twisted and yanked, the table leg coming free with a wrench of cheap wood. Hefting the new club, he moved through the next few rooms, ignoring bloodstains and sliding through barriers as he made for the break room.

He slammed the door shut before stepping past it to stand just next to the bathroom door.

A bang as the door opened was the only signal he needed as he twisted, putting his full body into a swing and bringing the metal end of the table leg up and into the variant’s skull, blood scattering as the temple and nose of the variant collapsed, leaving the body writing on the floor.

A stab put its movements to an end, and Izuku stepped over into the restroom, opening the wall-mounted box of medical supplies and adding them to his collection. He stepped back into the hall, glancing both directions before listening...

There you are.

It was distant, far off and muted, but he could hear the heavy footfalls of Chris.

He couldn’t kill the much larger variant. Not with the supplies he had.

That could wait.

He ducked into the breakroom, snagging a can of soda from the vending machine with a smash of his club, before climbing into the vents.

The short passage dropped him back onto the upper level of the entry hall, and fast steps lead him to the library, where the heads sat, and the dying form of the sergeant gave his warning, pleading with him to run. To escape.

Izuku waited out the words, head bowed as he let the soldier finish dying.

And then he grabbed the man's knife and his walkie talkie. He tucked the earpiece into his collar, where he could hear it when the soldiers finally arrived, and set off.

Instead of letting Chris get the jump on him, a simple smash through the window gave Izuku a clear leap to the ground floor, a desk shattering as he rolled through the fall with a grunt.

Then he glanced up to see the surprised form of Father Martin.

Izuku stood up and gave a soft chuckle. “Rejoice Father, for I have come to drive your nails in.”

And then, with a swing of the club, the priest died.

“Sadly, you must let your God sort it out.”

The bleeding form of Father Martin lay slumped on the ground. Crouching near him, Izuku reached forwards and rummaged through his cloak, pulling out a lighter and a syringe.

“I’ve got a long night…” he slung the metal bar across his shoulder and tucked the syringe in next to the knife at his waist. “Let’s go clear the roster.”

---

Now

Izuku let his body slump, eyes half-closed as he fought down his pulse, letting his breathing settle.

After a month of quiet… of maddening peace and stiffness, he could feel it. The way his muscles felt like there was tension behind them. The deep sense of awareness that let him feel the world, see the intent that flowed off the heroes now on the scene.

He didn’t even feel winded, so much as unprepared. He could feel the old rush, the well-known signs in his movements as the twitch and heat of adrenaline that had flooded his body began to recede, broken down and processed as its job finished.

‘Heh. Addicted to adrenaline. What a surprise to absolutely no-one.’

He let his mind wander to the pain across his joints, to the ache of strain through his limbs. It was familiar, and almost… pleasant. The feeling of growth.

He glanced up, All Might having vanished as the heroes grew closer. Izuku took a long and slow shuddering breath in, letting the elation fade and the fire of his desire, as twisted as it was, be banked and replaced by the calm shroud of professionalism and apathy he felt creeping back across his features.

‘Next time… Next time you won’t get a chance to dodge.’

In the depths of his mind, the name Shigaraki Tomura etched itself, next to the long-etched name of his captor, Akihiko Sugo. He would kill the man who threatened his mother, and now he would add the man who threatened him to the list.

But for now… he had to report how the day had gone.

Rising from his seated position, Izuku took in the missing panels of his armor, and sighed.

‘Mei is gonna give me so much shit for this.’

---

Then

‘Richard Trager’ blinked as he slowly woke, before jerking at the weight of straps holding his arms and legs to a chair. He blinked, slowly, behind the shattered glasses he wore. He quickly lost the confusion, expression growing into rage at how he was restrained on his own operating chair.

“What! WHO DID THIS? WHO?”

“Oh shut up, doc.”

The soft voice was young, male, and Trager glanced around at the sound of it, the programming that drove him emulating his response even as the entity finally focused on the teen who leaned against the far wall, his hands holding a long wicked-looking bone saw.

“YOU!? A MERE CHILD?”

Izuku glanced up and scowled, his soft features, slowly growing sharper with each day that passed, narrowing. His pale skin and the deep bags around his eyes contrasted with the vibrant mess that was his hair.

“Yeah, I don't have time to humor you.”

Izuku stepped forwards and set the saw down, before reaching for a large scalpel.

“Tell me, Rick.”

The teen crouched so he was face to face with Trager.

“What’s your old computer password for the Asylum?”

The variables clicked and shifted, Trager struggling as his response formed.

“Fuck you, I’m not gonna tell you jack shit, kid.”

Izuku gave a slow nod.

“That is what you said the first time I tried this. But this time, I really do need what you know. So... Let's change your mind.”

And like that, Izuku went to work.

The screams of the program known as Richard Trager were loud, but soon enough the words he was looking for came.

As Izuku finished, hands up to the elbow covered in blood and stomach empty of even bile at the acts he had done, he let the lifeless corpse of Trager slump to the ground.

“Alright. Next, Eddie.”

---

Now

Todoroki was confused. No, more than that, he was disturbed.

His rescue of the frog-quirked girl had gotten complicated when the cold had affected her to the point where she was shivering and unconscious. He had been forced to find shelter in one of the supply huts, using the bare minimum of his father's power to heat the room until she stopped trembling. He couldn’t just leave her like that either, the half dozen rescue and safety courses he had been grilled on made that clear.

But from his position, with the door cracked, he could still see the plaza. And he was unable to process what had occurred.

What awful killing intent… what sort of person Midoriya must be.

The feral posture, the aggressive and animalistic fighting style, and the final blow…

Why are you in UA, Midoriya Izuku?

Why aren’t you in the depths of Tartarus.

---

Then

The sound of a shattered window rang out, glass clattering across the tile of the recreation hallway.

Bloody handprints began to cover the walls, the drippy blood drawing bright streaks across the floor. Eddie’s snarl morphed into a smile when he saw it. Laughing, he began to follow the bloody path.

More and more the blood lessened, the marks less obvious, but Eddie was already following the route laid out for him.

As he walked into the gymnasium, he glanced around curiously, ignoring the myriad of bodies he had hung, whores and ugly bitches all of them.

He snarled.

“Where are you honey, I just wanna look at you! Stitch you up and fix you!”

He glanced around once more, his programming emulating what he could see and hear. It’s why he never noticed the slowly lowering form behind him until the loop of a rope snagged around his neck and pulled.

He snarled and thrashed, but with a jerk and shift his feet left the floor, leaving him ‘breathless’ as the rope bit into the structure of his neck. As he continued to jerk violently, he saw a glint of blood, a dismembered arm sitting against a wall, still dripping blood from its shoulder.

The last thing the program registered was green eyes staring at it before dropping from the ceiling.

---

Now

Uraraka finished giving her statement to the kind officer with the cat head who had pulled her aside. Her eyes roamed the clustered police vans, ambulances, and even fire trucks that had pulled up and around the entrance to USJ. To her relief, it seemed like no one in class had been killed, though both Aizawa-sensei and 13-sensei had been driven back to UA proper for medical treatment and observation. All Might had vanished as well, though a tall, thin man introducing himself as Toshinori-san had stepped up, mentioning he had left to finish securing villains and check the far reaches of the campus for any more intrusions.

The gravity-defying girl finally had a chance to breathe. She blinked at the sight of the tall and usually elegant form of the class president sitting on the back of an ambulance, a bright red shock blanket over her shoulders and a steaming paper cup of hot chocolate in her grasp.

Moving up, Ochako perched at Yaoyorozu’s side.

“Everything okay, Inchou?” She pitched her voice low, seeing as Yaoyrozu flinched slightly, clearly distracted by something.

“Heh. Some rep I am. I barely did anything but-” with a flinch, she cut herself off and glanced away.

“But what? You helped stabilize 13, didn't you?” Uraraka asked, feeling worried. She had only seen Yaoyorozu at the end of the incident, when she was forming plates that sealed up and wrapped around 13’s breached suit, clamping onto the sections that had been ripped open.

“...Me, Jirou, and Midoriya were dropped together.” With a mirthless chuckle, Momo wiped at her eyes. “I was… useless. For a solid five minutes. I just… I couldn’t process what had happened. I couldn’t even think. And then… then I looked up, and Midoriya was so casual.”

Uraraka flinched at that. She had seen the fight for a moment before All Might had moved her, Bakugou, and Mineta up to the stairwell. She bit her lip, wondering if it was her secret to tell even as Yaoyorozu continued.

“I just… was that how a hero should react? With absolute calm under pressure? With no hesitation? Even our plan, both me providing support and Jirou leaving to deal with the security office… it was all Midoriya’s guidance. I didn’t even do anything but make him tools.”

Uraraka winced and decided Momo needed to know.

“Midoriya didn’t react because it was burned out of him in this last year.” As Yaoyorozu glanced up, eyes wide, Uraraka began to tell her what she knew. "He was trapped by a villain in a death game. I... I only caught some of the streams, and the occasional compilation, but he didn't have a nice time."

Eventually, the pair fell silent, tears staining their cheeks and Momo’s coffee turned cold in the evening air.

“So… what now?” Momo’s voice was soft. Small.

“We get stronger.” Uraraka said decisively, with a strength she didn’t really feel. “We get better… and we try and keep our crazy classmate from going psycho, I guess.”

---

Then

“What are we going to do? I mean, to even get into the facility will be hell, but trying to shut down the Walrider program is going to be even more difficult. Hell, I’m already fucked up from this shit.” With a gasp, Waylon waved at the bandaged mess that was his left leg.

“That's why you aren’t going into the labs. I am. You’re gonna lock yourself in the jeep at the gates and walk me through it.”

“You? But-”

“I know my way in. I just need you to guide me through the steps to handle things.”

Waylon gave him a worried look, but let it pass as they limped through the Plaza towards the entrance.

“Here.” Digging through his satchel, Izuku pulled another earpiece from his pocket, handing it over with a radio. “I’ll do what I can to keep it on.”

Waylon gave a contemplative look even as he shuffled into the guard shack.

“If I had the administrative code I could activate the security foot-”

“I have one.” Izuku handed over a bloodied sheet of paper, clean handwriting with a password and username.

“Where did you get Trager’s codes?”

“From Trager. See what you can access, I’m off.”

Izuku started back towards the asylum, when Waylon called out.

“Hey kid… Be safe.”

“No promises.”

---

Now

Koda listened with mounting horror as Kuro relayed what he had seen, before closing his eyes.

‘I could have done more… I need to do more.’

Kuro fluttered to his shoulder as he rose from where he sat against the fire truck.

“Kuro… I ask you to try and find others who would like to assist me.”

“More hunter?”

“Yes. Ask around to see if any would like to train with me. Please.”

“Will find.”

With a flap of his wings, Kuro took flight. Behind him, face in a contemplative frown, Koda clenched his hand.

He wanted to save people.

He would start with his friend.

---

Then

Izuku crouched, hands buried in the open panel of cords and switches, listening.

“You need to unplug 1-43, and switch 2-34 off.”

“Got it.”

With a spark of metal welding to itself, the door to his side began to open, the safety switch triggered by the damaged panel. As Izuku stood, he stepped through the opening, eyes roaming the massive computer that commanded the Walrider.

The Morphogenic Engine.

He hefted the sledgehammer in his hand as he gazed at the oh-so-delicate computer systems.

All he had to do… was avoid becoming the new host.

No big deal.

---

Now

Chiyo glanced at the student who lay unconscious before her, his still form pale and quiet.

She hadn’t quite expected her healing kiss to knock the teen out entirely, but when he dropped on her cot, quiet as a grave, she was worried, even as the various bruises across his shoulders and arms faded.

It had taken a few minutes to pull up his medical history, and what she had seen had taken her aback.

‘Medical marvel… unprecedented healing and sensory capabilities for a quirkless teen…’

She read the documentation, eyes roving over medical scan after medical scan.

‘Unknown if growth will continue along with current developmental pathing without the presence of VI augment.’

Flipping through diagram after diagram of muscles and nervous systems, she felt her blood run cold.

“What did they do to you, kid...”

---

Then

“Kid, get out! You need to go! There're more soldiers showing up!”

Izuku glanced up at the now-leaking glass unit, the desiccated corpse of Billy, the last of the Walrider’s hosts, dying without life support.

“I’m on my way.”

Izuku turned and began to jog down the tunnels towards the exit, mentally playing out the path he needed to-

“ｻ◊ㄅ₮”

The sound of the Walrider was unexpected, and Izuku stumbled.

“ｻ◊ㄅ₮”

It was deeper, closer.

“ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊” It was everywhere- “₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮

ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊”-Deafening-”ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊”-Consuming-”ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊” -reaching up to cover his ears- screaming in pain as the words consumed his thoughts. “ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮ｻ◊ㄅ₮.”

The sound stopped, but Izuku could feel it writhing and sliding across his skin, could see the green glow that seemed to swirl around his fingers as he looked down at himself.

And then he lifted his head, slowly, to see the silhouette of the Walrider, its hand reaching out even as Izuku stood frozen, paralyzed with fear and confusion.

And the word that echoed from the nanites became clear.

“Host.”

And then everything was a blur.

---

Now

Screams echoed through the bar. Guttural and crude, every word a curse, a vow.

Shigaraki was strapped down to the counter, hands pinned as the portly form of Sensei’s doctor cleaned out the debris in his skull, tweezers reaching down and shifting through nerves and shattered bone as he drew them from the ruined mess of his orbital socket.

After several hours, the counter was slick with flecks of blood, and Shigaraki lay still, exhausted but quiet.

His socket was clean, but not yet sealed or wrapped, leaving the gaping mass of bone and flesh clear for the world to see.

As he slowly climbed to his feet, staggering from pain, he stood fully, shaking.

“Sensei. Sensei… I have failed you.”

The television across the room flickered on as Sensei showed he was listening.

Shigaraki took a step, and thudded to his knees in remorse, tears welling in his left eye as he shook and shuddered with fear… with anger…. With absolute, unending fury.

“All Might… still lives…”

For a moment there was silence, before a slow breath slithered into the room.

‘Tomura… Look at me.”

Shaking, Shigaraki did as he was told, his sole eye wide as it locked onto the screen as the shadowed form of his sensei shifted, bandages doing nothing to hide his sly grin.

“Your failure… did not leave us with nothing…”

Shigaraki felt his pulse beat… how had he forgotten?

“Stage three… was a success.”

He stared at the screen with a wide eye, before snapping his face to the silent form of Kurogiri, who had used his portals to pin Shigaraki during the surgery.

“It was? You… you succeded?”

Kurogiri nodded, and spoke.

“All the bodies have been recovered. Tartarus was breached without complications… And I recovered the man you wished for.”

Shigaraki let loose a laugh, choked and desperate before Sensei cut him off.

“Tomura…. I have a gift for your service… a thank-you for such valuable assets you acquired for us.”

Suddenly, the bedridden form of All For One reached forwards, and a black circle of mist opened between his hand and the ruined face of Shigaraki Tomura. Kurogiri’s portal opening a way for him.

“I Command You… to see The World in a new way, my dearest… Son.”

His hand came down, resting against the cavity of Tomura’s eye.

And then, Tomura knew only pain.

---

Then

Izuku staggered, the world spinning… things…. Didn’t make sense.

-Gunshots… impacts… Pain… Death… Healing… DEATH...-

He was fading, seeing mere fragments of reality, just shadows of familiar things. Of hallways... Of variants and soldiers…

Fire… That's right… I lit the Asylum kitchen on fire…

-more soldiers… a series of commands… None of them matter… A large room… A door… Light… Bright light ...-

His feet scraped the floor and he tripped, the sensation dragging him out of his stupor for just a second to hear it… a word…

“Kid, are-”

-the slam of flesh on metal… the impact as a heavy car slammed through the metal gates…-

Wayon, where was Way-

-blood… Dripping from a ragged neck… The leg was bandaged… The jeep was idling before him…-

And like the stop at the bottom of a cliff… Izuku was back.

The world around him was frozen, the smoke of the exhaust from the idling car caught on an unending breeze. He turned slowly and looked back, seeing the asylum… or what was left of it. Flames engulfed the entire upper half, and one of the armored APC’s was embedded through the front wall, granting a clear view of the entrance hall, now utterly decimated.

And on the ground… not even a meter away…

Waylon… or what was left.

Izuku’s breath caught, and he glanced around to see the frozen glow of the Walrider, floating above the jeep.

And ahead of the figure, a text box.

Outlast Complete.

As the world began to dissolve… Izuku collapsed to his knees.

He completed the game.

But he didn’t win.

Not really.

Notes:

This is the last of 'Season 1' for LID. Expect the updates to slow for a few months as I work on other projects.

Chapter 21: Tooltips

Summary:

Bit of a slower chapter here, mostly setting up for the changes that he's making.

Now

The room was still. Quiet. The long window to the west showed the setting sun, the sky like fire as it shined upon the city.

The stillness was broken by a shift. A slow step as the quiet form of a teen stood from a bench. His hands were wrapped in tape, the white and black bands stark against skin, and the faint splattering of blood already leaking from his knuckles.

He stepped forward, arms coming up as he took his stance, hair golden in the setting sun. A thud of flesh on padding, followed by another and another.

His black tank top was already soaked in sweat, red eyes gleaming as fist after fist was thrown into the heavy bag. First slow, testing. But every strike came faster, every hit harder, everything he felt, that he feared, that he wanted to roar and face and overcome channeled through muscles that already ached.

His knuckles felt like they were on fire.

His arms screamed as lactic acid burned at his muscles, his nerves frayed.

But all he could see was that moment.

The spray of blood and sheer, focused calm. That moment where Izuku made a choice and followed through with no hesitation.

He screamed and threw one last punch, his quirk sparking through the tape as he slammed into, and then through, the heavy bag with the sound of a gunshot.

Sand spilled to the ground even as Bakugou slumped against the deformed shape of the heavy bag.

“Fuck.”

“Shota, Nedzu. We need to talk about Midoriya Izuku.”

The teacher looked up, still flexing his forearm under the brace that covered it. At his side, the principal glanced up with a measured look at the form of Recovery Girl.

“Yes, Chiyo? What have you found?” Nedzu was calm, but there was an energy, a curiosity, that lurked under his frame. At his side Aizawa was quiet and tense, listening intently.

“I managed to finally get the records for the boy. All of them.” She breathed deep and passed a tablet to them, the teacher holding it up so both him and Nedzu could watch as a simple portrait of the teen appeared.

“I checked all of this. I spent most of the night hunting down the doctors who did the initial exam, and the various specialists who checked different parts of his changes.”

“Changes?” Aizawa was intent, and as the model began to change, he watched with narrowed eyes.

“As you know, the simulation he was held in emulated his entire body through the use of the digitalization quirk. What people didn’t know, until Midoriya exited the simulation, was that his body was treated like it was undergoing the simulation, through a specific program.” She brought up a new page, the I-Island logo large and marked with ‘Confidential.’ “That program was developed by a team known as Lazarus.” Another symbol appeared, a stylized Ouroboros, done in smooth red lines around the staff of Asclepius. “The program was originally designed as an injury and exposure simulator to map healing for long term care. But, it was stolen along with the Environmental Encounter Simulator.”

“The simulator… that's the one Midoriya was trapped in,” Aizawa nodded, the pieces starting to form a disturbing picture.

“The very same. The program they made was in charge of simulating the stress of death and combat upon the human body, and then through a modification from Akihiko Sugo, it rebuilt and healed the body it was simulating... and made it better. The more stressful the simulation, the more pain, the more exhaustion and exertion, the greater the threat response and injuries it took… The body would be improved to cope. The only part not modified was the central nervous system. Instead, it was merely renewed to the latest uninjured state; often when it was in the middle of a flight or fight response.”

On the screen, panels popped up, pointing to a dozen points on the body. Aizawa was clenching the screen in his uninjured left hand so tight the glass creaked under his grip.

A series of numbers were displayed.

Length of perceived in-simulation time: 384 days, 17 hours, 3 minutes, 2 seconds.

Stress levels above recorded measurement.

Growth rate increased to 359.3% normal expected development.

“Shit… how is he even sane?” Aizawa bit back his desire to yell, only to hear from Nedzu.

“He might not be,” The principal glanced up, eyes narrowed as he looked over the medical records. “For that matter, I would hesitate to call him a human. Not after the changes he’s undergone.”

---

 

Izuku stood on the roof of UA, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a loose green shirt billowing in the breeze of downtown. The sun had set mere hours ago, and with it, he had woken up.

He stepped across the asphalt of the roof, bare feet on the rough stone, beginning to move. First, slow stretches to loosen his muscles, to gauge his own body and its capability. It wasn’t Tai Chi, though it held the same slow grace. It wasn’t yoga despite the flexibility of his action, with its lack of set stances.

It was feral.

He moved through it slow, each step and twist heavy with intent and drive. He could do it faster, use the explosive twisting forces that he was capable of, but that wasn’t the point.

The memory flashed through him.

‘Don’t rush, kid. The moment you rush, the moment you stop thinking, is the moment you get picked off.’

So instead of hurrying, he slowed.

Each step took time. Each twist was slow, and deliberate, and measured. Each thrown fist and breaking thrust and killing strike he knew and walked through was glacial in its pace. Yet the strain only increased. Holding each phase, his muscles tensed from the force of the flex, even as they were slowly released.

As the moon rose high, and the air cooled, Izuku finally came to a slow stop.

“You could have stepped up, sensei.”

The sway and step of the pro hero was different from Aizawa’s. Aizawa was a snake, a shadow, a flicker of cloth in the wind that struck like a hammer. Snipe was a presence. His cloak was thick and heavy, his armor stylistic and his dreadlocked hair and mask was almost iconic, and his weapon of choice was a threat, being one of the very few heroes with a gun and the willingness to use it.

And even now, without all of the clothes and weapons, dressed only in a white tank top and blue jeans, he still carried his own metaphysical weight.

“Looked like you were working it out just fine, kid.”

Slowly stepping up, the teacher soon stood just out of arm's reach next to the teen.

“Long night?”

Izuku tilted his head, unwilling to really put up a social front tonight.

“I can’t sleep easily. The real world’s a bit too loud, and the dreams a bit too real.”

Snipe nodded and looked up, Izuku following his gaze.

For a while, they simply watched the stars.

“Hound Dog’s pushing his session with you back a week. The entire staff is up in arms and needs to be seen showing they’ve still got it, so we’re taking extra patrols.”

Midoriya glanced up, eyes unimpressed. “Of course. The Media.” The venom was deep, but subtle. As he glanced back out at the skyline, he stepped forward and up, feet tapping lightly on the thin concrete barrier around the rooftop. The drop below him, the sky above. For a moment, Izuku just let himself breathe in, while behind him Snipe tensed, ready to lunge and catch the teen if he proved to be… unstable.

And then, Izuku opened his mouth, and started to sing.

It was wordless, more of an operatic moaning and calling. But the emotion was heavy. It was one of determination beyond death. Of unending pain broken only by victory.

In the wind of the night, it didn’t carry, but the song wasn’t for the people below. It was for Izuku.

It was a declaration of intent, vocalized so he could hear it said once more, a new layer upon the old. A refresher of a lesson hard fought and harder learned.

Under the song, was a threat to the world.

‘Let my bloodied hands stop, or make me kill you too.’

---

 

Then

Izuku was shaking. His hands were trembling, his gut churning as yet another round of bloodied acid dripped from his lips down the drains.

‘I can’t win. Even when I did everything the way it should be done, I still can’t win! I can’t… I can’t save anyone. Not even in a computer simulation… Kacchan was right…’

He had tried to call up his childhood friend. Had reached for the solutions in his memories. When smiling didn’t work, he had reached for Kacchan’s rage… only for that to fail him as well.

He slumped back against the tile of the simulation room’s bathroom, eyes aching from far too many shed tears.

He wanted to just sleep… to just… fade away.

He slowly staggered up and away, pushing as he stumbled from the bathroom, a line of vomit on the tile ignored as he pushed for the ripped and torn bed, slamming in and trying to bury himself into the cloth, to block out the world around him.

On the wall behind his prone form, a screen floated.

Outlast complete!

Skillset Tutorials unlocked!

‘Movement’ ‘Observation’ and ‘Stealth’ simulations complete.

Unlocking Technical simulations.

Please wait 3 days as system prepares simulations.

Suggested Tutorials can be found on personal terminal in main room.

---

 

Now

Jirou sat on her bed, band posters across the walls and instruments set carefully around her as she looked at the weapon in her hand. Black metal with a silvery edge, some sort of synthetic, from what Momo had said. It was as long as her forearm and hand held flat, and had a simple handle that fit to her palm.

The look in the hacker’s eyes as the blade pressed to her neck.

She blinked and turned the blade around, pushing the memory aside.

She pondered for a moment before rolling onto her feet, holding the blade down and away like Midoriya had said.

‘What was it… a chopping motion he said, right?’

She held the blade out and tried said motion, bringing the blade up and down with both hands, more like a baseball bat than a proper weapon.

She frowned and tried again and again, shifting her feet and setting her shoulders as she tried a few different configurations, but all of them felt jerky and weird.

With a final jerking motion, her hands slipped and her eyes widened when the blade slammed point-first into the carpeted floor, barely missing her bare foot.

“Shit.”

She wiggled the blade free and frowned.

“This is harder than it looks.”

She paused at that, and her teeth found the end of her ear jack, rolling the metallic tip across her lips in nervousness and indecision.

‘He knows how to fight with a blade… and I never want to feel that helpless again.’

Nodding, she set her resolve.

‘Now… I just hope he agrees.’

---

 

Then

I-Island research division.

A half dozen researchers sat around a table, eyes closed in exhaustion or staring blankly off in the distance with sheer frustration.

“All of our research, and work, and effort...” the speaker was an older woman, eyes red with tears long dried, bright aqua hair tied back in a messy bun. “Used by that, that sick fuck.”

“Asuna…” A tall man with red spiked hair reached out, hesitant but trying to comfort her somehow.

“HE KILLED PEOPLE, KLEIN. WITH OUR RESEARCH. OUR PROGRAMS!” Asuna choked back a shuddering retch, even as she slumped. “And we can’t even save the kid. Because the simulation is keeping him alive and we can’t trigger the ejection without restarting the system, which would kill him.”

In the back of the room, bags beneath his eyes, a larger black man, skin laced with scales, tapped at a console. “God… the chat room for this is only getting worse. There’s some sick fucks who are getting off to the kid’s torture, and I’m trying to moderate and ban as fast as possible… but there’s also a bunch of people who are doing research on the games. Hell, I’ve got dozens of links here. Speed runs, tactic guides, level maps, character backstories...”

“Store it all, Agil. We’ll need it, since my old cache of data got ganked when he stole the system.” Across the room, cat-like whiskers and ears twitching, and with dead eyes that looked into the distance, Argo downed another bottle of beer, stacking it with the dozen already to her side. “God. I can’t believe that, that… fucker, used my environment simulator. Fucking cocksucker.”

The four of them were the leads of what had once been called ‘Project Training Ground.’ Using Sugo’s digitalization quirk, and his basic designs, they spent eight long years reverse-engineering the data he provided. With digital copies of any and every type of material, they made databases full of what the world looked like for a computer, made prototyping simulators so precise they could simulate decay and destruction from nearly anything, and could see real time responses when exposed to nearly any environment or natural disaster.

And then Sugo started experimenting with living tests. Mice. Rats. Rabbits. Dogs and cats and snakes and spiders. He had even convinced Asuna, the lead on medical simulations, to let him use some of her programs. Her team, Lazarus, had made the ‘Biological Entity Stress Simulation Intelligence,’ or BESSI. It was the leading edge on medical simulations. It was revolutionary… and with his research it would have been finished faster and cheaper. It could have been released years ahead of schedule…

And now it was resurrecting a dead teen over and over again for the world to see.

The four leads in the room were distraught. But not as much as the youngest, the prodigy among them.

Yui Cardinal.

The teen girl was, even now, passed out on a cot in the corner, eyes puffy from days of crying. Asuna had been her teacher, despite them being in different departments. Argo’s environmental simulator, Klein’s physics engine, Agil’s material research, Asuna’s medical tech… And Yui’s experimental VI Seeds.

All of them butchered and spliced from research that could change the world… into a deathtrap.

The door opened, and the last of the six appeared.

Long, black hair tied into a ponytail and androgynous features started out, violet eyes bagged and skin gaunt.

Whereas the rest of the researchers had been working on the digital, Kirito Kazuya had provided the equipment to make it happen. The custom testing computer that ran the simulation, something strong enough to out-process half of Tokyo, was their creation.

And with its theft, everything else went along with it.

“News?”

“Sugo’s still not talking… I hear he’s being shoved into the lower security section of Tartarus.” Argo drained another bottle, sliding it next to her stack. “Good fucking riddance. The asshole even admitted that he locked himself out of the system. Until the games end, his quirk won’t revert. We can’t hack the computer without the failsafes wiping it, killing the kid. We can’t turn it off without killing the kid. We can’t edit the games unless we want a hard reset, which kills the kid. The only thing we have access to is the live feed, and we can’t even cut that off. The closest we got is moderating the chat and looking at the data being fed out.”

“Fuck.” Walking by, Kirito snagged the last beer from the coder and sat on the table, eyes closed as they drained it. “Well. I have shitty news, okay news, and news from hell.”

“Regale us, dear leader. What’s the word from up top?”

“The okay news? None of us are getting fired. Shitty news? All of our research is currently marked as evidence for Internal Affairs. News from hell? The media knows it was our department.”

Groans and curses echoed around the area.

“Fuck. Great. Just what we need, the press. As if upper management wasn’t going to be pissed off at its use enough,” Klein groaned as he collapsed on the couch, Asuna still holding onto his chest as she quietly cried.

As the six of them settled in for another long night of watching a teen fight for his life, they spoke in soft tones.

Yui, eyes closed, clenched the bedding underneath her tightly and avoided letting her friends know she was awake to hear them.

‘She made the monsters… So wasn’t she one as well?’

Chapter 22: Open World Exploration

Summary:

How do you survive isolation?

Aizawa glanced over his notes, rubbing the ache between his eyes as he considered what he had learned. Chiyo shared what she knew before leaving, but with all the information she had, there was almost as much that she didn’t know. She didn’t understand where Midoriya’s limits were because the data was so horribly inconsistent. The researchers who had helped him after the simulation had run him through a variety of tests, but in one test he could shatter ceramics and bend steel with a bare hand, another he was only just above human average. The results fluctuated wildly based on what actions Izuku took, and that wasn’t considering the variety of tests that were canceled or deemed unethical.

In the end, they knew that Midorya was dangerous, but only if provoked. His go-to response to flashbacks was to flinch and walk off, ignoring the people around him as he worked it out of his system. He was the most dangerous when he was rushed at. A medical report showed that a doctor who ignored that warning had gotten a scalpel driven through his hand into a table.

The scalpel blade had been stuck in the steel of the table. His hand had to be ripped off it.

And that was before the psychological reports came in, with another inconsistent tone. Four different therapists had tried to examine and talk with him, and the responses ran the gamut from calling Midoriya an emotionless psychopath with no remorse, to PTSD of an unheard of scale, to debates on emotional repression and burnout. Aizawa had spent most of the night just trying to sort out how Midoriya had changed since his exit from the simulation.

Even now, he had more questions than answers.

He also had things he needed to address immediately. Midoriya’s most recent scans, particularly in the wake of USJ, were frightening. His body’s metabolism showed signs of insane activity on par with the most intense of Olympic competitors, even though it had slowed by the time he reached the medical wing. The terrifying part was the number of signs pointing to rapid starvation, nearing the point where his body began to cannibalize fat reserves to sustain itself. Chiyo had suggested that his insane level of physical capability came at a cost, and that was that he needed fuel for working that hard. Aizawa had notes to take to Lunch Rush later, regarding improved portions and specific nutrients. Beyond that, he needed to talk about increased impact gloves. One of Midoriya’s hands had hairline fractures across half the knuckles. The fact they had already begun to heal and set into place even after Chiyo’s quirk wore off was… reassuring, but frightening.

And then he needed to talk about the teen’s sleep schedule. Him passing out so quickly from Chiyo’s quirk, and staying out for so long, was a cause for concern. Particularly compared to the expected levels of recovery he should have gotten.

Sighing, Aizawa rubbed at his temples, leaning over his desk.

He had plans to make.

---

Izuku sat up with a smooth motion, eyes roaming the dark room. He had managed to settle in for only a few hours after his little expedition to the roof, and now he could feel it. The itchiness under his skin, the soft rumble as his stomach asked for food, and the deep-seated warning that he needed it. Now.

He slid a hand down his arm and removed the saline drip with deft work before shifting, feet to the ground. A flicker of his hand turned off the heart monitor before he disengaged it himself. He was hungry, not sloppy. He wasn’t gonna send up the alarm that easy.

On bare feet, a pair of loose UA gym pants, and a white tank top, he set off, eyes half-lidded as he moved.

His feet were quiet as he smoothly loped through the dark and quiet halls of UA, driven by instinct as much as conscious thought. He needed food. Proteins and vitamins. He had done this at home once, fallen into this half-focused state. His mother had found him sitting with an empty carton of milk, a half-consumed pack of chicken wings, bones cracked and marrow sucked out, and half-a-dozen fruit that had been reduced to seeds.

He had barely woken up enough after gorging himself to clean up, before passing out.

He felt like Recovery Girl was gonna be pissed.

He couldn’t bring himself to care.

He stepped down the stairwell like a ghost, his silent feet sending him into ever more fluid motions as he twisted around railings, skipping flights of stairs entirely as he flipped from banister to banister, before stepping onto the cafeteria floor with the grace of an animal. He slipped through the half-light, ignoring any markings of time and weaving through the cafeteria doors with a motion that seemed to flicker from step to step, leaving the door to close so smoothly that a blink would miss his entrance.

The kitchen lay ahead, doors closed to either side, but the counter in the center was vaulted with quiet grace. Hand flashing out to snag an orange, Izuku’s teeth tore through skin and flesh in quick, intense bites, even as he peered around the room. By the time he reached the first walk-in fridge, the orange was reduced to the slightest of juice marks on his lips and he was already starting the apple he had grabbed with his other hand.

Stepping into the walk-in, Izuku began the process of fueling his insane metabolism, instincts ingrained by years of evolution, refined and adjusted by the state his body called “normal,” led by his hands. A half-dozen raw eggs cracked with deft hands and drained for their nutrient-rich yolk. A small bag of sandwich meat consumed and left empty. Two cartons of milk, sipped at between bites of tomato and a thick bread roll. Butter swallowed with no regard for taste. A head of dark lettuce eaten with large bites and chewed fast. As he ate, he felt his body respond, the faint itch of hunger and need replaced by a satisfying rush of endorphins.

Finished, he closed the fridge, the various trash left over from his raid gathered and disposed of. Washing his hands, he glanced up as the faint sound of footsteps reached his ears.

Lunch Rush stepped into the kitchen, whistling softly as he considered his plans for the morning and the coming day of cooking.

He never noticed how, as the door swung closed behind him, a slender figure slipped from his perch above the door and out the entryway with silent steps.

---

Then

Izuku slumped at the terminal, clicking through page after page of technical manuals and diagrams, eyes taking it in but still not knowing why he was being run through engineering courses. He had spent the first of his three-day break sleeping or dissociating under the blankets of his bed. However, halfway through the second, he dragged himself out of bed, wrapped in a fleece blanket, and staggered to the console. He glanced over the recommended tutorials, and clicked on the first one, slumping into the office chair in his bundle as he watched videos and clicked through pages.

However, the more he read, the more confused he became.

Basics of ventilation and power conduit maintenance? Explanations of how a set system, known as APOLLO, would handle intersystem communications and controls. As he read on, Izuku picked through lessons on hardwiring computer systems, long manuals about computers and security protocols, and even a series of what looked like handmade powerpoints on ‘How to Deal with These Hunks of Junk Keycard Readers.’

But as Izuku delved deeper, he was also finding strange connections. Everything he was looking at, every manual and book, had the same pair of corporate markings. Lorenz SysTech Development, and GeoFund Investor. Beyond that, the constant referenced to pressurization, to environmental checks and safety measures, sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie.

And it was making Izuku uneasy.

Clicking through, Izuku paused as the next page went blank.

“Huh.”

He tabbed out and blinked.

He had finished the files, having devoted the day to them. Rubbing at his eyes, he slid his notebook away and stretched, frowning at the nearby timer and noting the 8 hours left on the countdown.

Leaning back, he exhaled, looking up at the ceiling.

“There's something more… something hidden. But what?”

A pinging sound got his attention as a pop-up flickered into existence on the screen.

Locate more files in a simulation to unlock more tutorials.

“Well. If that wasn’t a pointed hint.”

Izuku yawned and shrugged his blanket back over his shoulders like a thick mantle, staggering to the bedroom once more.

He could use some more sleep.

Hopefully without nightmares this time.

---

Now

Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, Izuku stepped off campus and began to move through the streets of Tokyo. He had gotten the green light to leave for a few hours, citing that he had healed enough to be allowed to wander. The fact that he may have spent the morning ripping a punching bag to shreds out of sheer annoyance with being locked in the building may have been a contributing factor.

Shifting the hood so his hair was tucked away, it only took a matter of minutes for him to duck into a convenience store for a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of grape juice.

He was restless. Shigaraki’s last words were a lingering echo. He knew from Nedzu that his mom was currently being hosted at a private location, and his house was being watched just in case the League tried something.

Izuku fiddled with the slim handle in his hoodie pocket, glancing up at the buildings nearest to UA. Namely, the building with the single best view of the Heroics classroom. It was a modern apartment complex, with clean-cut lines. A glance at the front door and he found what he wanted: an Intercom system. There was even a directory for who was in which room, using last names. He ignored the ones with names for now, instead focusing on the three empty apartments. One on the fifth, two on the seventh. He was pretty sure the seventh floor was too high for the angle, so the fifth was his best bet.

‘He warped into the classroom, but out of the hallway. But that took a moment… Exhaustion? Or repositioning?’

Downing the last of his juice, Izuku shifted and took a few steps down the back alley of the building, circling to the side of the building hidden from UA. With a glance, he felt the urge to grin.

‘Fire escape.’

A quick leap from one handhold to the next, and he was vaulting over the railing of the lowest landing before he began to take the ladder with smooth, lunging steps. On the fifth, he looked through the window, seeing the empty hallway that stretched from the elevator at the far end to the fire escape where he stood.

‘5-3… there.’

The window was a simple fix, a snap of his wrist lining up the thin switchblade in his hand with the latch. A moment of careful teasing with the blade and it clicked, letting him in.

He slithered down the hallway, checking apartment numbers until he got to the door, glancing at the empty name plate next to it. The switchblade slid through the gap between the door and the frame, and with a click he pushed it open into the empty apartment.

He stepped through empty white rooms, the carpet layered in dust thick enough that he could make out another pair of footsteps that had dragged and paced through them, and a series of swirls that brought to mind the warp-quirked villain, Kurogiri. Shifting until he found the right window, footsteps thick enough that the dust was cleared away around it, he crouched, hand held out as he eyed the angles. “Warp to and from here, then? The angle is right, but that's only the door out. Which means they both showed up here.”

Glancing around, he saw it. In the dust-caked carpet, there was… a faint disturbance, before it vanished again.

“A second warp out?” Looking closely, Izuku made out faint swirls across the carpet where he expected the portals to be. “Hmm… air flow… there's a suction effect when they open...”

He stood and paced back through the empty apartment, frowning at the lack of any other evidence. “Hmmm… they used this to do recon, but nothing else.”

A few minutes of work to get back to the alley floor, and he strode out in the light of day once more, hands in his pockets.

He got only a few blocks away before his phone rang, breaking him from his passive thoughts. He quirked an eyebrow at the screen of his cell when he read the name.

Principal Nedzu Calling

---

Then

The podium was cold, once more. The timer had finished counting down only a few minutes ago. Dressed in a thick and comfortable long-sleeved shirt, slacks, and work boots, Izuku lay back and let the familiar screen wrap his eyes once more. He saw the greyed-out titles of the first three games, and moved on, tabbing to the newest one.

Alien: Isolation

He hesitated. A flicker of memory, raw and painful, of a headless corpse propped against a jeep.

And then another thought, a mix of memory and hallucinations. Of his mom, crying out for him.

“I can’t stop. Not yet.”

He focused and said the title aloud, and the world dropped away once more.

He was suddenly laying not on the curved metal of the simulation alter, but on a rubbery mattress.

Blinking, he glanced up at the metal of the roof of what appeared to be a bunk. Leaning off, he looked around to see the room cast in soft light. He blinked at a computer terminal to the side, large and clunky, with ‘2 new messages’ flashing on the screen. Taking a moment to investigate the room, he found an ID card.

‘Izuku Midoriya, Maintenance. Access level 1’

The locker had a jumpsuit in grey with blue and orange markings, his name on the chest. It also had a small toolkit and a headset with a flashlight.

Setting all his gear out on the small counter in his room, he moved to the computer terminal and opened his messages.

>2 New Messages

>>Notice of Employment

>>>Warning: Security Curfew

The employment notice was straight forward: “Welcome to Sevastopol Station and the employ of Lorenz Systems Technology, thank you for joining us as part of the decommissioning crew, we expect you to maintain an upstanding and efficient work ethic...” Nothing about it jumped out as strange.

The other message, however...

From: APOLLO ALERTS

Attention all crew: Effective Immediately, the station is going into high security lock down. All outgoing communications are disabled, and security is increasing to priority 4. Please do not panic. The situation is under control.

Why did this scream ‘something’s killing people’ for some reason?

Izuku started tugging on the jumpsuit with a sigh. The suit had plenty of straps and pockets, and the toolkit strapped to his thigh comfortably. The headset was hooked around his ear, and a tap turned on the light.

Geared up, Izuku pressed the door controls. On his wrist, the smartwatch he had first gotten in Outlast beeped.

Current Location: Solomon’s Habitation Tower

Objectives: Find out the reason for the lockdown

With his new objective in mind, Izuku began to walk through the corridors of Sevastopol Station.

---

Now

 

Nedzu sipped at his tea, still staring at his phone even after their conversation had long ended. His mind was racing, piecing together facts and connecting events. Midoriya’s little investigation had given him a solid point to build off of. The villains had clearly done recon and planned their attacks. Combine that with the results of his own information gathering exploits, and he could see the shape of what exactly his opponent was.

There clearly was a backer for the villains here. The gathering and funding of so many villains for even so short a fight... the planning that took place, the sheer biological complexity of the Nomu and the Hunter, the gear that had been given to the villains who intercepted the teachers.

This wasn’t a small group of disillusioned madmen. There were roots here, deep crawling layers and plots that had to come together for this kind of attack.

It reminded him of the files he had on All For One… and he hoped he was wrong.

The only variable the League hadn’t been ready for ahead of time was Midoriya. A wrench that they had apparently tried to account for with the Hunter.

Nedzu looked away from his phone, paws tapping and waking up his computer.

Some deft movements later, and he was opening a file, sent to him from Tartarus.

There hadn’t been only seven escaped inmates.

There had been eight.

The picture of a gaunt man, curly dark brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses stared out.

Akihiko Sugoh.

The news hadn’t broken yet, but sooner or later it would get out, it always did.

And Nedzu didn’t know how Midoriya would react. Not with the facts that his tormentor, the one who had shoved him in a death game, was alive and free once more.

Pulling up another file, he clasped his paws and watched the security footage of the I-Island medical facility where Midoriya woke up.

He watched as the teen jerked to his feet with fury. As he screamed and yelled, ripping IV’s from his hands and screaming in rage. The records showed he had been half-dead, body suffering from exhaustion to a level rarely recorded. Beyond that, he had been drugged to the gills for safety.

“WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS SUGOH?” The doctors ran. Or tried to reason with the teen, only to be met with growled demands.

As he watched, it took several orderlies to try and detain him, and in the end, it was only his own body that failed him.

The sight of Midoriya, feral and bloodstained, staggering, reaching for his chest before collapsing…

It was terrifying.

Nedzu closed the tabs, sealing both files back up, glancing once more at the map projected on the wall.

Midoriya’s phone signal was still in Musutafu, shifting through side streets and markets with ease.

“I hope you find some peace soon… before the waves crash upon us, Midoriya Izuku.”

Chapter 23: Event Banner

Summary:

The Sports Festival Is announced, and a declaration of war is met with disdain.

Three days passed by, and Izuku spent most of it wandering the area around UA, breaking training gear on accident or purpose, and taking a trip back to his apartment for clothes and some basic toiletries.

Due to the threats of Tomura Shigaraki, Nedzu had decided that there was a significant and direct threat to the Midoriya family. As such, there was a professional security team coming by in the next week to reinforce and secure the family apartment. Until the renovations could be made, both Midoriyas were under protective custody. Izuku was being held in a small apartment on the UA campus.

On the morning of the monday following the USJ incident, however, Izuku awoke in the early dawn to a message from Nedzu.

Classes would be resuming that day.

Luckily, Izuku could avoid the near constant crowd that had set up near the front gates, (despite several statements and restraining orders against the more… aggressive paparazzi).

Unluckily, the gossip and the dull roar of the crowd wasn’t limited to the front gate.

The student body was interested. Gossip traveled thick and heavy, students talking in the hall, or looking at forums and watching news clips.

Izuku was not afraid to admit that he took full advantage of both his stature and his concealing leather jacket to hide the fact he was a member of 1A. Sadly, there was a different matter entirely that met him in the classroom.

He had, of course, arrived early by nearly half an hour.

He hadn’t however, gotten there first.

Yaoyorozu and Iida were both present.

Izuku blinked with a sort of wry amusement at the pair as they sat at the blackboard, chalk in hand as they apparently debated what other jobs they had for the class.

“So, we need a historian, a discipline officer, to set up the class cleaning rotation, and to talk to Aizawa-sensei about what our positions entail.”

“That is correct!”

“Thank you Iida. Please, come talk to me if you have any more suggestions.” As the two began to wipe off the chalk on the board, Izuku stalked around the room with his usual grace, slinging his jacket and bag over his chair. With that done, he sequestered himself in the back window sill, hand thumbing the belt loop at his waist in unease.

He was possibly over-compensating for the acute lack of security that missing his sword, poorly crafted as it had been, had left in his instincts. He had not one, not two, but five knives of various styles sequestered across his body, and another two hidden in the hems of his father's jacket. He had even swapped his normal leather hair-tie for a length of braided wire, just long enough to unfold to a garrote if he really needed it.

There was also a small case he had filled with thermite and magnesium flares tucked into his backpack.

‘Cause fuck regeneration.

To calm himself, he pressed against the window as the first rays of sun began to peek through the early morning cloud cover. He let his gaze focus on the gleam of the early morning light, and mouthed a soft prayer.

Oh sun, light my path and warm my steps...

He closed his eyes and listened as Momo and Iida both chatted softly, standing at the front of the room, leaving him in half cast shadows.

He took a moment to simply… breathe.

---

Then

Izuku breathed deeply as he glanced out the window. He had been… somewhat cautious. Moving slowly and taking care to avoid exploring the various blocked off areas of the floor. But he hadn't expected… this.

As the hallway hit the edge of the tower, it had split to either side, two locked off doors leading each way.

But at the intersection, a window looked out.

And it was looking into space.

A planet with a shadowy curve, the swirls and colors of a gas giant, rose up from the right side.

The deep black of space filled the rest, stars so bright and defined that they took his breath away were etched through the void.

He could only take a moment, and breathe.

Sadly, his moment was soon ruined.

A distant shout echoed from the hall he had just left.

A human voice.

A moment glancing around, and Izuku blinked before reaching down, hand closing on a discarded length of pipe nearly as long as he was tall.

It was better than nothing.

---

Now

Izuku blinked up at the two girls near his desk, eyes half lidded as he focused on the two determined faces looking down at him.

“I’m sorry. Repeat that?”

“I was hoping you would be willing to train with us this afternoon?” Yaoyorozu was blushing slightly, hands clasped at her waist.

“Yeah, I have some questions about blade fighting.” Jirou was far more blunt, and less self conscious about her request.

Shifting, Izuku crossed his arms loosely, eyes focused on them. Reasons to not attend rose through his thoughts. He had never taught anyone to fight. He was still considered unstable. He was antsy. He couldn’t guarantee they would learn his lessons. That they would want too learn what he knew.

But he couldn’t seem to stop the sardonic twist to his lips. The echo of Solaire laughing at a joke.

“Sure. I’m free. Do you have a training room in mind?”

Yaoyorozu gave a bright smile. “I’ll ask Aizawa-sensei after classes are over.”

As the two girls headed back to their own seats, Izuku leaned back, and let his mind wander.

‘The first lesson I must teach you is how to recover…”

His mind wandered to a balcony under an ashy sky, two blades flashing in the half-light of a dying world.

With a shift, the door opened and Aizawa-sensei walked in, his arm in a flexible cast and the edges of bandages peeking through around the wrists and collar of his familiar black tracksuit.

“Quiet down, there's some business that needs to be addressed.”

With a few murmurs and a bit of hesitation, the class filed into their seats. Aizawa let his gaze drift over his students, and Izuku could see the miniscule shift as his shoulders relaxed.

‘Was he… worried for us?’

He stored the thought for later, as Aizawa began to talk. “In three weeks, the U.A. sports festival will be held.”

The surge of murmurs increased, but Izuku blinked in half-forgotten surprise.

‘I forgot that was even a thing… huh. I missed last year.’

He shoved the thought away, and narrowed his focus back on Aizawa-sensei.

“Which means that you all have only three weeks to train and prepare. The sports festival is a public event, broadcast across Japan. It's considered the first step to impressing sponsors and finding mentors. The performance of students is directly related to the number of offers you’ll get for internships.”

And with that, any interest Izuku had shriveled up and died.

He had spent more than enough time in the spotlight.

As class began, Izuku focused on his actual school work.

---

Then

Izuku crouched behind a crate, headlight off and pipe held low and to the side.

From his perch, he could see a pair of people wearing what looked like ballistic vests and holding handguns march the open lounge area ahead of him, flashlight beams dancing across the corridor walls and ceiling.

Eyes adjusting to the dark of the ship, he listened and watched.

The taller of the two, voice marking them a female, spoke up. “Do you think there's even anything out this way? I mean, this is where the independent contractors were staying, right? I thought most of them had left or vanished by now.”

“Don’t be stupid. The space dock was screwed up almost a month ago, remember? There's no way everyone got off station. Besides, Apollo says there was at least one room still in use over this way. Who knows what might be stashed away in here? We could find some food. Maybe access codes to finally unlock the fucking command tower.” another woman, but with a much raspier voice. Injured or smoker? Izuku shoved the thought aside.

“Yeah yeah. Fuck. At least we aren’t down in fucking storage. Did you hear how crazy shit down there has been?”

“Yeah. Marshal has been talking about flat out locking down that half the tower. But if you remember, the last quarantine we had didn’t work out. And that's not even counting the supplies we need from the stacks.

“Yeah, no shit,” a mirthless chuckle. “last quarantine we had left us without comms and with San Cristobal locked up and turned into a morgue. Quarantining luggage would just kill us slower than whatever is living down there.”

Quieting down, the two sentries moved on, passing only a glance down the side corridor Izuku was peeking from.

Waiting for the footsteps to softly fade, Izuku focused on the key points.

Namely, that all of this started in some place called San Cristobal, wherever that was.

That the luggage area was a dangerous place.

The command tower needed access codes.

A shift and he drew his notebook from the system.

“Well… let's get started.”

---

Now

As Cementoss's literature class came to a close, the class broke, everyone gathering up their bags and papers before lunch. And Uraraka was pumped. “The sports festival is going to be AWESOME!”

She glanced around, eyeing her classmates, her competitors. Sponsorships? Elite training? A chance to prove herself for the whole world to see? How could she resist? Across the class muttering and soft conversations. But she could see it, how most of the class was hyping themselves up, preparing and planning for the upcoming event.

In the back, Midoriya stood and spoke softly with Koda, and Uraraka focused on him.

There were powerhouses like Todoroki and Bakugou she would have to fight. There were people who she was coming to call friends she would clash against.

But the terror that Midoriya carried scared her.

She still saw that moment, the splatter of blood and the cool confidence, unburdened by guilt or hesitation.

Midoriya looked her way, marking her attention and dismissing it, before turning back as he continued his half spoken half signed conversation with the class mute.

She let her courage build. If she had to face Midoriya, she would push him to his limits, that was a promise.

As she and the rest of the class filed out for lunch, she noticed the slow build of tension. The stares from the other students as 1-A filed past.

When she glanced back, Izuku and Koda had vanished, heading in a different direction.

---

Then

The lifts were locked down tight. Two guards at each elevator bay.

Shifting back from where he had been watching them, half hidden in a vent, Izuku pulled up the map he had copied to his journal, tracing the lines of where he had been to try and find a new way out of the residential area. His pipe had long since been left behind due to the tight corners and awkward angles of the hallways and the even smaller size of the vent. Even now, he worked by the faint reflected lights, his headlamp turned off as he worked out the schematics.

“Supply elevator…. Manual access… stairs… give me something….”

He flipped through the pages, tracing exits through his map as he tried to find-

there.

Izuku started moving. It was back past one of the locked off doors he had seen earlier, but he knew there was a type of tool that helped break the security locks, some sort of wrench.

He bet the security force had a few… and he knew they didn’t have a shift change yet, so there would likely be a short gap to get in when most of the security guards were heading out to relieve their coworkers.

He would have to move fast.

---

Now

The final bell of the day rang out, echoing through the class as Aizawa gave his closing lecture, everyone putting notes and pens away. Turning to behind him, Izuku chatted with Koda for a moment.

-Hey, are you planning to train with Kuro anytime soon?-

-Yeah, I have one of the fields reserved.-

-Think you could have a few guests? I’ve been asked to help Yaoyorozu and Jirou out.-

-Shouldn’t be a problem!-

The first sign that things were going to become very annoying, very fast was the sound of muffled steps and shouts that began outside the door to 1A. Izuku paused his conversation with Koda, hands stilling as he tilted his head, the faintest hint of annoyance creasing his brow.

Izuku could only hold in a sigh at the murmurs that reached him through the cacophony began to make sense.

“-heard they beat the shit out-” “-why do they get all the news-” “-listen, we need to plan out-” “-Information is the name of the game!”

“Hey, Koda. I’m gonna bail before things get-”

Bakugou chose that moment to slam open the door, heading to lunch, only to run smack dab into a crowded hallway.

“-crowded.”

“Can we help you all?” Bakugou’s voice was sarcastic and dry, but at least he wasn’t throwing insults yet.

Izuku held back a curse, and turned to head towards the window. He needed out. He had no desire to deal with assholes who didn’t understand the severity of-

“-What a bunch of egomaniacs and violent monsters.”

Izuku froze, twitching, before planting his feet. Koda stared at him, eyes wide.

“M-Midoriya?”

“I wanted to be in the hero course, but like many others I was forced to take a different track. I didn’t cut it the first time, but now there's another chance. If any of us do well in the sports festival, the teachers can transfer us to the Hero Course. And if we get moved up, someone else gets moved down. Maybe some of us are just here to check out the competition. But Me? I’m here to declare war.” the purple haired teen looked in with loathing and focus.

Koda shivered as he felt the hair across his arms stand up.

“Declare…. War….”

The words cut the chatter of the room like a razor blade.

Midoriya Izuku turned, eyes half-closed and body seemingly relaxed as he paced towards the doorway, the various students seemed to step back, eyes widening at the sheer presence that emanates.

“You don’t want War. You want the competition. You crave the clash of wills and intent.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“So go for it. Fight us. I invite you. Come to us, crash on us like the waves. See who breaks.” Stepping past Shinsou, he spoke once more, voice soft. “I guarantee that the violent monsters will tear you to shreds.”

As he walked off he called back. “See you all at the sports festival.”

Under his breath, he mumbled one more thing, and behind him, Jirou blinked, before walking up to Koda.

“He said you had a training ground we could meet up at?”

“Uhhh… sure?”

Chapter 24: Leveling the Party

Then

Izuku lay in the vent, a stretch of cloth wrapped loosely around his mouth. He knew from his time at Freddy’s that it would help by forcing him to even out his breaths, and muffle any noises he made. His arms were crossed and his posture slumped, hidden under the floor of the ‘Garrison’ as it was being called. It had taken over an hour to maneuver through the various halls and vents, before finding the one he was in now.

He sat there, eyes closed as he waited.

Above him, people shifted and moved, footsteps clanging on the metal grates even as conversations were held.

People were scared, hungry, and hurt. More were dead, bodies left to rot across the station. There were factions, groups who had both means and motive to kill anyone they found on sight, both for supplies and security.

He finally focused when he heard people mention guard shifts, and a dozen people began to gather up supplies.

Through the grate he could see the locked room where guns and medical supplies were stored, and the crates of food that were sealed up and piled in the corner.

But not everything fit in that room.

He waited, and watched. And then, the moment came.

The twelve new shift guards left. Everyone else was busy, either resting or eating on the far side of the common area. He was clear.

He reached up, fingers hooking on a handle as he slid a panel open, and crawled out with quick and silent steps.

He knew what he was grabbing before now.

A Seegson brand ‘Emergency Maintenance Jack’ with orange markings. One side had a hammer-like tool, but the other was a wrench just the right size for those door barricades.

He also grabbed a bundle of cord, stuffing it in his half-unzipped jumpsuit. A moment to glance around once more and he nearly grinned.

He reached out and snagged a flashbang and its blueprints from the workstation he was next to. He stuffed them both in his pockets as fast as he could before he glanced around and slipped back into the ground, sliding the maintenance hatch closed.

He began to move, sliding on his knees through the vents only to take a corner a bit too fast.

The sound of the metal hammer-like head slamming into the metal of the vent may as well have been a church bell with how it rang out.

And judging by the shouts, it got just as much attention.

Cursing, Izuku abandoned subtly for speed.

He took off, scrambling through the vents, taking care to keep himself heading the right way toward the exit.

He could hear shouting that would fade and increase depending on what hallways he was passing under and through.

As another vent cover was opened, he lunged out and started running, recognizing the hallway as one he had passed through earlier. It was only about ten minutes from the hallway he needed.

But he could hear the yells coming from back down the other way, from the garrison.

He was breathing heavily as he paused at an intersection. He wasn’t sure how long it would take or loud it would be to open the door lock. He needed to escape detection... glancing around, he found another of the small dorm-like rooms and darted in. He closed the door and looked around, before slipping into a small closet and taking deep slow breaths as the sounds of running feet and shouts came closer.

He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and forced himself to settle.

He just had to wait it out.

He had time.

---

Now

Izuku crossed his arms, looking up at the passing clouds, eyes tracking the distant shape of Kuro as it drifted off the thermals. He focused, cutting and calming the anger from his thoughts at how the purple haired teen had made him feel. After his little… outburst, Koda had met up with him, Yaoyorozu and Jirou in his wake. It had taken only a few minutes of walking to reach the field they were using. A small stone wall marked it off, and there were three sandy areas and an outdoor gymnastics park. Koda had called Kuro down from his perch, the two of them having tracked the bird down during their lunch break. Now the bird was going off to gather the other ‘volunteers’ for Koda’s project. Koda himself had walked off into the grove of trees to meet them.

In the meantime, Izuku had removed both his blazer and button-up shirt, leaving only a white shirt with the kanji for “Bloodied” in red over his heart.

(Convincing his mom to let him buy as many shirts with jokes about him almost dying was hard, but so worth it for the jokes.)

He also kicked off his shoes and socks, standing barefoot in the sand as he began to stretch, only glancing back to ask the girls to do the same.

When he finally turned around, Yaoyorozu and Kyouka had also stripped down to the bare essentials, mimicking him. He noted that there were now a half dozen synthetic training swords of various sizes next to Momo.

“All limbered up?”

“Yep. What next?”

Izuku stepped over and crouched next to the swords, sorting through them before he chose three. One was shorter, closer to the machete-like blade she had taken up the USJ, while the other two were more classical sword sizes, one long and curved like a katana, the other flat and straight, clearly resembling Izuku’s blade back before the USJ.

“You’re gonna try and swing each of these over the next few hours. I want to see how you adapt to each one.”

Izuku stepped back, crossing his arms as he focused.

Jirou paused, and Izuku could clearly see her thinking that this was some sort of test, or trick. Slowly, she lifted up the longsword first, and took a stance-

“Set your feet better. Each foot should be slightly wider than your shoulders, and you should lead with your off leg.” Izuku glanced at Yaoyorozu and gestured for her to stand a few steps away.

As Jirou shifted her stance, Izuku paced around her, tapping her legs with soft kicks to push and adjust her stance.

“Good, good. Do you have the stance?” He gave a cursory glance to make sure that she was far enough from the pile of training swords. “You should feel tension across your legs and core. Your arms should feel cocked, like you’re about to throw something.”

“I… Yeah, I think so.”

“Take a moment. Memorize it. Feel it.”

Jirou breathed and tried to settle into the stance, feeling the weight of the sword in her grip.

“I… think I got it.”

“Good.”

She didn’t open her eyes.

That was a mistake.

Izuku stepped in and kicked her ankle out from under her, sending her sprawling with a push.

As Jirou flailed and hit the ground, Izuku caught the longsword as she let it go.

“Here's a tip. Don’t ever take your eyes off your surroundings unless you know you’re safe.” Izuku held the sword up, glancing down the synthetic blade as he did, before twirling it. “Back in the stance. Eyes open this time.”

Jirou, still unbalanced, growled and pushed up. “Fine.”

Izuku tossed the sword underhand to her and gave a flickering smile that she couldn’t see.

“Yaoyorozu, you wanted to spar, right?” he glanced at the pile of swords, consideringly.

“I… yes, please.”

“Feel free to draw your weapon of choice. I’ll kill two birds with one stone I think.”

As the flicker of creation sparked up, Izuku threw out a punch, the skin of his knuckles pausing inches from her face just as Jirou flinched and stepped back.

“You broke your stance. Reset.”

A growl and she did, now looking much tenser. This meant when he slapped the blade out of her hand, she hissed in pain as it wrenched her wrist. “Ah, what the fuck!”

“Relax more. And why did you break your stance?”

“Cause you disarmed me?”

“Take the stance. No sword this time,” he glanced up as Momo finished crafting a bo staff, and stepped a few feet further from the girl as she shifted back into her stance. “And just watch.”

Izuku fell into the same stance as Jirou, hands loosely held up before him.

“Now, Yaoyorozu? Go at it.”

She hesitated, before nodding and lunging, stave coming around-

A duck and shift, and Izuku slammed an open palm into the stave, sending it passing high over his bent form, before stepping in and grabbing it. Yaoyorozu blinked as he spun past her, and his arm wrapped around her neck, before letting go gently and stepping away.

As Jirou blinked, Izuku began to talk.

“The reason I’m having you hold that stance is cause it’s better then what you had for combat. It’s what I learned as a ‘Grounded’ stance.” He took the stance again and gestured for Momo to continue. She nodded and tightened up her grip, before going in with a series of jabs and thrusts.

Izuku didn’t stop his impromptu lecture. “It's more defensive than I prefer-”

He swerved past a jab, only his torso shifting as his hand reached up and slapped the butt of the stave away, before ducking as the other side came past, feet taking moderate and measured steps that sent him nearly dancing forwards with steps that naturally sent him in an almost serpentine movement, his feet never crossing.

“-but for heroics, it’s more useful than what I use. It’s all about control-”

Yaoyorozu threw out a series of jabs that were met with slaps to deflect them, a sound almost reminiscent of a game of children's patty cake ringing out.

“-and reading people. Which thanks to your quirk,” he stepped in, both hands snagging the stave as his foot swept out, “-means it plays to your strength!”

Yaoyorozu lunged back, but lost the stave, leaving it in Izuku’s hands. Instead of using it, he threw it over his shoulder and rushed Yaoyorozu. Moving in a rapid shuffle of steps that left him in her personal space, both hands thrusting to knock her off balance, just in time for his knee to lock behind hers and twist, sending her sprawling.

“Got it?”

Yaoyorozu blinked up as Jirou looked on with her mouth open.

Jirou recovered first. “What about with a sword?”

Izuku nodded. “Good question. Watch.” He swept up the practice longsword and shifted back to the stance. The sword was held up by his shoulder, blade reaching up. “I prefer a higher guard like this.” he pushed the sword into a cut, sweeping the edge out and down before he stepped behind it. Each strike he chained was followed by a steady step. “You follow the blade. The sword is the leader, the point of conflict. Let it guide you in, cover each motion. You don’t need to close. Let the point of the sword cut and define distance.”

He held the sword with a bent arm, and then extended a slow thrust while stepping to follow the sweep of the blade. “The distance between these two points is where I want whoever I'm fighting to remain. Any closer and strikes lose weight. Any farther and it takes an extra step to reach.”

He demonstrated his steps. “I never move straight. Straight is predictable and vulnerable. The oblique angle is the key.”

He moved through another dozen steps, sword leading in sharp and precise jabs, and Yaoyorozu took the chance to grab her stave, setting up to spar with him once more.

He nodded, and glanced at Jirou. “Keep the stance. Get comfortable with it.”

And then, he raised the sword and stepped to engage.

The clash of the weapons brought back memories…

“Good, Good! Keep moving. The monsters here are stronger, but you are faster! Smarter! Show it!”

In the hazy sunlight, Izuku was wearing haphazard metal armor, a chipped longsword in his grip as he gasped out, the familiar necrosis of the ‘Curse’ running through his flesh forgotten as he met and locked blades once more, before twisting out of it, blade sliding forth viper-quick only to be smashed away by a waiting gauntlet. The white tunic made the red of the Sunlight Knights crest stand out even more.

“Ha, good, good! Again! Faster! Keep your stance up!”

Yaoyorozu was smart, keeping distance, using her stave more as a spear or glaive than an actual quarterstaff. She was fast and had skill that he could see was well-honed.

Izuku’s blade was a series of sharp strikes, going from both hands on the hilt to one on the blade for greater control as he met strike after strike with deflective smashes, keeping his guard closer to his core as he ran her through the paces, conserving his own stamina.

But something about this fight was ringing… sour. Wrong. He pushed the idea of training Jirou back as he focused on the way Yaoyorozu fought.

It wasn’t until he sent her half staggering and she reset, taking a half step back, that he realized what it was.

Fear. Not of him exactly. But fear of loss. Of pain. That crippling doubt that haunted Izuku on and off for 9 long months.

And he could remember the line that had broken him of fear. It was not Solaire who taught him to abandon his hesitation.

He broke his stance, and took another one. A far more dangerous one, that had killed him day after day, hour after hour for nearly a week straight.

Head tilted down, the sword came up and balanced across the hollow of his right shoulder, hovering there.

He let his left arm go loose, unneeded, unwanted. He didn’t need it. Not for this stance. His right hand was strong enough for it, and he had never seen it with both hands.

He let his eyes focus, let his pulse rise.

“Why do you hesitate, Yaoyorozu?”

His stance tightened, going from loose and grounded to something more akin to a sprinter on the starting mark. Motion promised, but waiting. Yaoyorozu paused, even as Jirou broke her stance and looked surprised, eyes widening at something.

Izuku didn’t give her a chance to speak, stepping forwards with a shifting sliding step and slamming his blade around and down with the finality of an executioner's axe.

Her stave came up, frantically braced.

His blade didn’t slow down until it stopped completely, perfectly controlled in his grip.

The shade of Artorias, the Abysswalker, echoed through him.

---

Then

Izuku lifted the padlock and scowled at it.

Even if he had the right tools to pick the lock, it would take time. He had about ten minutes before the next patrol would be walking down this section of the area, and he really didn’t want to deal with hiding for another half hour as they moved by.

Lifting the jack, now adorned with a paracord loop he could carry it across his back with, he shifted it to hold it steady and brought it around and down, breaking the lock off with a ringing smash. Moving quickly, he ripped open the casing to reveal the bolt, and fit the wrench part on, twisting until it loosened.

In the distance, he heard the first questioning shouts.

Looping the wrench back around him, he grunted and lifted the door lock off the entry, setting it aside and hitting the button.

With the lock gone, the door opened with a hiss, revealing the darkened hallway beyond.

With only a single glance back he took off, jogging into the unknown sections of the ship.

And the maintenance hatch that would lead him lower into the tower.

---

Now

Her hands rang with the echo of the force that had broken through her staff, but she couldn't move. The sword, edge cracked from the force of impact, was held with the blunt tip pressing gently against the hollow of her collar.

“If I can teach you nothing else… then let it be this.” Izuku’s voice was mesmerizing, nearly hypnotic as he focused on her, and only her. It felt like the sea had split like the cloud-covered sky was cut in half to reveal the moon as his green eyes focused on hers with a weight all their own.

“Hesitation is unbecoming of a Hero. If you doubt yourself, then how can others believe in you? You are stronger than you think, Momo Yaoyorozu. Believe in that, cast your hesitation aside. It will only weigh you down.”

Years of self-deprecation, years of doubt, of justified concern and anxiety about the reality of her friendships and the myriad of people who only viewed her as a ‘resource’ as a ‘commodity’. Against the weight of Izuku’s conviction? It all seemed so… shallow. Dirty puddles in the street and stains on the sidewalk.

Oh, this wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t going to make the journey any easier.

But she could see now, the chains that bound her, even if only the vaguest shapes of them.

But she also could see what it would be like to not worry about them.

It was reflected in Izuku’s steady gaze. In the truth with which he spoke.

“I… I understand.”

He gave a soft smile, and in that smile were layers of emotion. Bitter grief and amused sorrow, traces of comfort and pity.

“Not yet… but, you will.”

He shifted the sword and poked her in the sternum hard enough to throw her back on her ass.

“Jirou. I thought you had a stance?” His voice was steady, but Momo swore there was a teasing tilt to his lips as Jirou cursed and scrambled back into her stance, only to swear louder when the sword in Izuku’s hand took her ankle out from under her again. “Too wide!”

Momo could only give an unsteady grin, reaching for creation as she formed a new staff.

He’s going to be a teacher like none she’s ever had.

Chapter 25: Checkpoints

It had been a busy week so far.

After that first day, spent out in the sun and sparring, Izuku had alternated between the three of them being inside or outside when they trained. When they were outside, Izuku often joined up with Koda, the gentle giant of the class, for a few minutes while Momo and Kyouka warmed up with a short stretching regime.

When they weren’t outside in the grass and sand, they had been checking out the UA sparring rings. Padded floors and walls, with bright lights and mirrored walls. She had mentally noted that they looked almost like padded dance studios.

Speaking of the padded floors...

Kyouka grunted in pain even as she bounced off the ground rolled to her feet, bringing her practice sword up as she kept her focus on her opponent. Deep black eyes met her own vibrant purple, and she stepped forwards to meet the stave as it swung out to jab at her.

The clack of weapon on weapon was muffled, and the two began to dance. Kyouka was keeping her stance close and steady, focusing more on defense even as she tried to close in, whereas Momo was more than skilled enough to jab and deflect as she came closer.

For every strike Kyouka came close to landing, she took at least six.

But three days ago, she was taking almost ten for each one she landed.

As they circled once more, she caught the reflection of Midoriya.

Their enigmatic and dangerous teacher.

She was finding herself almost constantly attuned to his heartbeat. When he wasn’t fighting or suffering from a panic attack, his pulse was almost stoic. Two beats every four seconds, steady and relaxed. The only heartbeat that slow she had really heard before was someone sleeping, but even with the glacial pace of his heart, his eyes never wavered.

Even dressed only in long, loose hakama-style pants and a snug black tank top, he cut an almost imposing figure.

Focusing back on the fight, Kyouka snapped a guard to take two strikes from the stave, before a third snuck past and slammed into her stomach, knocking the air from her chest as she collapsed.

As she gasped for air, she could hear the low voice echo across the room. “Match. Yaoyorozu, you hit her a hundred and three times. Jirou, you landed thirty four.”

As the world stopped doubling and her focus came back, she blinked to see Momo holding out a hand to lift her up, while from behind her, Midoriya watched on.

She heard that his heart rate had ticked up. Only a little, but it was there.

A surprising comfort.

“Jirou, sit and stretch. Yaoyorozu, drop the staff and pull something else.” With permission granted, Jirou staggered up and across the room to the benches near the door, grabbing her bottle of water as she slumped in the seats.

The clack of weapons drew her head up.

Whereas Kyouka was still on the basic stance, feet planted and guard up, and Momo was skilled in several different styles and stances for each weapon she made, Izuku was by far the most advanced.

His stance, when she could finally piece it together, was erratic, but focused entirely on doing the most damage with the least effort. His sword would hang or rest with the minimum effort to keep it in his grip, but the moment Momo launched an attack or set her stance, he was a blur. The first time he had really struck out, after the demonstration on that first day, he had nearly shattered her second stave of the afternoon, jarring it in her grip so violently she had left an opening to get her leg swept and held at sword point, again. It was only now, after almost a week of practice, that Momo could even consider keeping up. And that was only because it was obvious that Midoriya was pacing himself. Each strike was always at the weakest chink of her stance, always designed to throw her guard open.

Today, she held a long straight sword and a shield, which was becoming one of her preferred weapons against Midoriya’s onslaught.

It didn’t help.

Even as Momo lunged to start the fight, that black blur slapped her weapon off the centerline, his bare foot slid forward in a counter step into the lunge that was perfectly timed as he caught Momo’s arm with his off-hand, her sword held out and useless.

Points to Momo for not hesitating to slam her shield forwards like it was a knuckleduster though. That actually made Izuku twist to dodge under her sword arm, before the taller girl found herself slammed down, arm pinned to her spine and disarmed, as Midoiya blinked down.

“Overextended. You need to be faster and keep the sword in line.”

“Yes. Again?”

With that, Momo was released, the sword kicked towards her grip, and Izuku started to pace, swinging the faux-longsword with casual grace. But as he stared at the blade, Kyouka saw the reflection in the mirror twist, a faint grimace that flickered across his lips before fading.

She had noticed that that grimace meant he was annoyed with something. It showed up in Present Mic’s English class whenever the hero started using his quirk. It showed up when people in the halls started talking shit. It showed up every time his hand fell to his hip like he was missing something.

And it showed up whenever he held one of the practice swords and had to adjust his grip.

As their blades began to clash once more, Kyouka sipped at her water.

---

Then

Izuku crouched as another pair of looters passed by. Unlike the security garrison, these guys were panicked. They moved like they expected to die any second. They didn’t have shotguns; in fact the most he saw was a revolver or two. The levels down in this area, around where the shuttle bay was located, were clearly half disassembled. Sections of the floor were missing, panels of walls stripped clear. The various passages and twisting areas were locked off in weird places.

Izuku slipped across the hall, crouching to pass under a half-broken door with a fallen girder slammed into it and into the supply room beyond. A few minutes of checking drawers and sorting through the various crates around the room left him to add a collection of materials into his pockets. Most of it was bonding agents and wiring, but with the Flashbang Blueprint now added into his notebook, he had a list of things to grab when he saw it. Mainly, blasting caps and proximity sensors.

And as the collection of a half dozen flashbangs he had stashed in his pockets clearly showed, he had obviously found a lot of blasting caps and proximity sensors.

Alongside the flashbangs, he had found a few flares and another dozen batteries for his flashlight.

Annoyingly, his previous plan of just letting his eyes adjust was being fucked over by the erratic lighting of the station. Some hallways were lit clearly, others were completely dark, and some were dark until some loose wire sparked and left him seeing spots for half a minute.

He still didn’t plan to use the light often.

Once more Izuku pulled up his map, tracing routes as he looked for a way to San Cristobal. His biggest issue was that the doors leading to the lower tower transit system were locked down, and the other big group of survivors, lead by some guy who was apparently called Sinclair, was running the area.

Breathing out slowly, Izuku began to map out his new route.

“Fuck this station already. Seriously.” He was so glad he had fucking flashbangs. He was going to need them.

---

Now

Koda breathed out, sitting cross-legged in the clearing as he spoke low and soft. The muffled responses to his words came in growls and chirps.

Kuro sat on his shoulder, the kite now wearing a simple harness, a camera and GPS tracker built into the slender black material where it lay along the birds spine. Midoriya had taken a few minutes to introduce Koda to the energetic Hatsume Mei.

He wasn’t comfortable hanging out with the pink-haired teen, but he did appreciate her excitement to make gear for him and his new companions.

Speaking of new companions...

He glanced up at the two hawks that had joined Kuro, and who even now sat among the branches. The first, a dark blue-colored Japanese sparrowhawk, was the smallest of the three birds. It accepted the nickname ‘Spar’ and had joined up for consistent meals. He had asked for plenty of leftover meat from Lunch Rush to feed the growing gathering of animals. The other bird was the largest of the three, a majestic mountain Hawk-eagle, nearly the size of both the other birds of prey combined. She had informed Koda that her preferred name was ‘Corras’. While only Kuro had a harness, there were vague plans to craft a pair for the other hawks, after they got used to working with the teen. As it was, both had nests and preferred hunts nearby UA. Kuro, on the other hand, now had a very nice, very comfortable perch outside of Koda’s home some miles away, and had been adopted as part of Koda’s family, often swooping through his open window to join him as he did homework or research.

-”Thank you both for your assistance today.”-

-”Of course”- with that, both birds left with quick motions, leaving Koda to address the other new member of his little crew.

He lifted his hand from the warm sun it had been resting in and glanced at the long and slender serpent that had wrapped around his arm.

-”Would you like me to take you anywhere, Seras?”-

With a slither of scale on skin, the head of the snake rose, the gleam of blue and gold scaled eyes peeking out at him as the Japanese Odd-scaled snake flicks its tongue out. -”I am content to stay with you, for now.”-

Seras was non-venomous, and her species was common; a general garden snake. However, the serpent had agreed to join him in some endeavors and had taken to the basic espionage he had taught it with aplomb, often slithering under his blazer and peeking out of his sleeves around corners as he helped her practice. She was comfortable with people, and seemingly lacked any sort of fear response around the various sounds and sights of the classes of UA.

The only person that seemed to unnerve the snake had been, of course, Izuku. He had simply stared at the snake for a solid thirty seconds and slowly shifted his head side to side, seeming to mesmerize the smaller predator with his gaze.

After that Izuku and Seras had no issues working together.

Izuku even carried Seras when he lingered in the sun between classes, the snake soaking in the rays much as the quiet teen did.

As Koda slowly stood up, the various smaller critters that had come to listen to his lessons- from squirrels, rabbits and voles, to field mice and sparrows and even a bat or two- all began to stir from their gathering, breaking back into the forested parks of UA.

As he moved, Seras slid back up his sleeve, scales gently sliding across him as she shifted to loop around his neck, hissing softly as it conversed with Kuro.

Koda stepped carefully out to see Momo and Kyouka sparring in the sand of the training ground, but strangely no Izuku.

“Where’s Izuku?”

As the girls broke up from sparring, Kyouka spoke. “He got a message. Something about an order finally getting finished and Power Loader needing him to go pick it up.”

Koda nodded and glanced up at the slowly setting sun.

“I… suppose we should head home, yes?”

Kyouka nodded, and then scrunched her nose. “Yes, I need a shower and a change of clothes. And bruise cream.”

Momo nodded in agreement, rubbing at her arm. “You got a few good hits on me that time.”

“You too. Tomorrow’s a rest day, right?”

Koda waited for the girls to gather their bags and don their jackets before walking with them towards the front gate, but took the time to check his phone, before giving the answer to her question. “According to the Group Chat, tomorrow is supposed to be a resting day.”

As the three heroes in training began to head out, they all paused, alerts ringing out from their phones.

New alert in Sparring Chat.

Midori: @here I’m gonna be busy for the next few days after class. Need to get some prep done for the sports festival. Jiro and Yaoyorozu, remember to stretch. See you all in class.

As the three glanced at each other, they could only ponder the unsaid question,

What did Izuku have to do?

---

Then

Izuku fed the wire through the sensor of the last flashbang, glancing down the hallway once more as the distant conversations continued on. This was the choke point. He needed to get through the next few rooms, and then he was just a vent away from the transit station.

He ran the wire down and across the floor, using the handle of a suitcase to anchor it just above the dark floor of the corridor.

He glanced up and reviewed his plan. He had made it as simple as possible.

There were three different flashbang traps, each one mounted just above eye level, each prepped with a tripwire.

There was also a vent that went from right behind the corridor of flashbangs and cut to the center of the big room ahead, where all the survivors were camped out.

He would make a big ass distraction, and then fucking run for it.

He checked that all his gear was in his pockets and ready, tucking the loop of rope and the maintenance jack under his jumpsuit before zipping it tight. As he stretched for the oncoming exercise, he paused and he decided to do one more thing.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flare. A moment to breathe and center himself later, and Izuku snapped the top of the flare off, setting the premade mixture alight and flooding the corridor around him with a bright red light. Turning, he aimed and chucked it back down the other end of the hallway, before shouting “FUCK” as loud as he could, already darting into the vents as shouts went up from the hallway towards the camp.

He scrambled as fast as he could, taking pains to be quiet even as he heard the shouts and movement of the survivors as they moved towards where he had shouted. He was nearly at the grate when he heard the bang of the first tripwire trap.

Shouting got louder, and as Izuku reached the vent out into the base, he saw the half dozen members of the group with handguns and shotguns up and aimed down the corridor.

When the second flashbang went off, they started moving down after their scouts.

And Izuku moved.

The hiss of the vent was lost in the commotion, and Izuku was darting across the metal of the large open room with nothing but the door across the way.

He skidded to a stop, hand slamming on the door control, and then a shout was thrown, not down the echoing hallway, but back at him, and Izuku barely saw the twisting motion of the guard who had looked back, before he threw himself through the opening, a gunshot ringing off the door frame behind him as Izuku stumbled, before booking it.

He sprinted, hearing the shouts get louder even as he glanced for the right path. He had memorized it. Forwards down this hall, right, through the side room, and back-

A bang and he felt a sting of pain across his shoulder, which quickly blossomed into an inferno of pain sitting in his flesh.

But he had learned from Slender. The pain didn’t stop him, it just made him faster.

So he darted through the side room and skidded into the next area, kicking the door closed and slamming the lock even as he turned, the transparent bulkhead between him and the pursuers cracking as a bullet slammed into the material. Thankfully, with the lock in place, he should have some time.

With a wince Izuku darted through the next doorway, only to be slammed shoulder to chest into a taller man, who backhanded him so hard Izuku was sent sprawling.

The door hissed closed behind him, and Izuku tensed, shoving up from the ground only for a kick to slam his jaw shot, cracking his teeth so hard he felt his gums hurt.

“Fucking thief are ya! Little bastard thinking you can get past us? That you can steal from us?”

Izuku could barely scramble back as the man lashed out once more, only to feel his back hit the wall.

The man chuckled and yanked a revolver from his pocket leveling it at Izuku.

“Fucking thieves and sneaks.”

The gun came up, and Izuku refused to take his eyes off the man. He was planning to remember this for his next run.

However, when he saw a flicker of movement in the dark of the room above, some sort of scanner or electronic thing, Izuku’s eyes darted up, and he froze.

The man didn’t notice.

Not until, with the squelch of flesh, a barbed tail slid through his chest.

As blood dripped to the floor, a sound began to ring out. A deep hiss, before the survivor, glanced up.

And then, he was ripped from the ground, up into the mechanical piping above.

Izuku glanced up.

Black chiton, blood stains-

He didn’t hesitate, eyes darting to get his bearings before he locked his gaze on the hallway for the transit lobby.

Even as the choked out sounds of a man dying and the squelch of flesh tearing rang out, Izuku took off, hand sliding down to snag the gleam of metal off the floor even as he booked it for the doorway.

Behind him, the growl of a monster rang out, and a corpse fell to the ground.

The Hunt was on.

Now

The bus came to a stop, and Izuku stepped off, following an older couple who took off down the way. He stepped away from the stop, hands in his pocket and hood up. His eyes roved the street, taking in the old buildings and closed storefronts. A glance at his phone showed he was still a few blocks from his destination.

As he began to walk, he considered the events that had led him here. Power Loader had heard from his blacksmithing friend, saying that the blade Izuku and UA had commissioned was ready for pick up, but with a caveat.

Izuku needed to pick it up himself.

Power Loader had then just handed off the address and let him know to ask for ‘Hattori Hanzo’. Apparently, it was an inside joke.

One hour-long trip on a train and then a bus, and he was now on the outskirts of Shinjuku walking through an old section of the city, the buildings worn and aged.

As he got closer, he noticed that the buildings only got more abandoned, before turning the corner and blinking.

A large lot was lined with an old wooden slat fence in contrast to the stone and metal of the nearby buildings. On one half of the fence was clearly an old patio and yard, with a small water fountain in the center.

On the other side was a smaller ramshackle building, the front clearly some sort of food stall, with the Kanji for ‘Sushi Bar’ on the faded paper sign.

Izuku double-checked his location off the phone, before tucking it away.

The walk up to the stall was short, and he pushed through the door with careful motions, only barely shaking the bells that hung from the eaves.

The empty bar was clean, if old.

‘Worn. Well worn and loved.’

“Please forgive me for bothering you,” Izuku spoke softly, letting the traditional greeting hang as he stepped up to sit on a chair at the counter.

As he sat, an older man, salt and pepper hair held back with a blue and white bandanna looked up from where he was skinning and butchering a fish, a gleaming tanto shaped blade picking the animal apart.

“Ah, Irasshai,” he replied, before sliding his knife away, Izuku tracking the motion with an absent thought as the blade slid home in a sheath at the man's waist. “How may I help you today?”

“I was told to come and ask for Hattori Hanzo. Power Loader sent me.”

The old man nodded sagely. “Ah, you are young Midoriya. Yes, I did ask for you.”

He set the fish in a crate of ice with other fish, the markings showing they were fresh from the market. The man scooped ice over the fish to keep it chilled even as he began to wash his hands in the sink.

“I am Muramasa. I was expecting you to be a touch later, but I am ready for you.”

Stripping his apron off, and folding it to sit on the counter, Muramasa gestured for Izuku to follow him, stepping around the counter and flipping the closed sign around even as he stepped out of the bar.

Izuku followed as the older man opened the gate to the patio. Now past the wooden fence, Izuku could make out clearly the small building at the back of the lot, the familiar scent of smoke rising from the squat brick house.

“Come. Your blades await you.”

Izuku didn’t stop moving, but he caught the words, and his eyes narrowed.

‘Blades? As in more than one?’

Chapter 26: Re-Equiped

Summary:

Aliens, Blades, and Monsters, Oh my.

Then

Izuku skidded to a stop, hand slamming down on the call button for the lift even as a distant screech of the monster rang out.

Something about it made him goddamn terrified in a way he hadn’t experienced since his first run in with Slender. The way it moved, the speed of its attacks, its sheer presence. He glanced around and fumbled with his pocket, ripping the flashbang from its place and yanking the pin before chucking it back down the passage. A glance through the glass of the door had him cursing under his breath. The lift was still on the far side of the transit tube. As the bang and flash resonated through the hall, he heard the monster’s screeching intensify, but not in pain. If anything, it just sounded angry.

Izuku snapped around in a short spin, glancing around for- fuck it.

A sprint to the locker he’d found earlier, and then he was ducking in, slamming a hand to his mouth as he shut the door and leaning down to make himself as small as he could. He wrapped a hand around the locker’s internal mechanism to keep it pulled shut.

His heartbeat was drowning out the sound of the room and his breaths were frantic, even as he tried to muffle them and force himself to slow down.

And then he heard it.

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk…

A footstep unlike any he had ever heard before. The pacing was weird, too slow and heavy for a normal person. The click of talons with each step, the rustle as chiton scraped chiton.

It reached out to the deepest, oldest, parts of his mind, the parts that’d been developed when humans weren’t the highest thing on the food chain.

He felt cold, and too hot, like his blood was simultaneously burning and ice-cold.

The footsteps stopped and he felt his arm hair stand tall as across the room, a sound rang out. It was low, halfway between a growl and the chitter of a geiger counter, ringing deep and true into Izuku’s bones.

Slender had been apathetic, almost disinterested in Izuku. Playing with him had been a game to the monster, and it hadn’t made any real effort until his last few runs.

The Fazbear Animatronics had been creatures of habit. They’d had logical responses and tactics, but with limitations.

The inmates of Mt. Massive had been crazed and aggressive, but not truly cunning. Not most of them, and those that were had weaknesses to exploit.

But this… this creature…

It was the combination of all of their worst traits.

The alien, untouchable nature of Slender. The sly and tactical thoughts of the Animatronics. The instincts and unnaturalness of the inmates and the cunning of the Walrider.

He could sense them. Something about the very nature of that black, chitoned monster called them to mind.

Izuku breathed slowly and lightly, eyes locked on the vent above his head and the faint light of the room that leaked through.

The footsteps returned.

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk…

And they were getting closer. He could hear the sway and shift of that bladed tail as it swept across the steel of the deck.

As it approached, Izuku closed his eyes, hand slowly pulling a metal grip from his pocket as he raised it next to his head.

He heard the click of machinery, the creature pausing to listen, and the faint ding and hiss as the lift arrived.

‘I need to get past it… I need to move… I need to MOVE… MOVE, DAMMIT!’

The shaking in his hands only intensified, and he took one sharp breath-

And the door to the locker was shredded as a blade-like tail slammed into it, barely missing his face.

---

Now

Izuku took in the inside of the small building, noting the low ceiling beams and the sunken dirt floor. There were tiles in some places, and the walls were lined with gleaming tools that showed signs of careful use and maintenance. The far end was a massive forge, and its heat spiked the room temperature at least a dozen centigrade above the spring chill of the outside.

Izuku unzipped his hoodie, revealing the black shirt he had on under it, and followed Muramasa to the long table against the far wall, where black cloth covered a series of lumps.

“When I heard from Higari that a student needed a custom blade, I admit I was somewhat underwhelmed. After all, my blades have a reputation.” As the old man stepped up to the table, he began to unfold the first layer of cloth, revealing four gleaming swaths of metal. “However, he suggested I do some research. I must admit, your skills are impressive, and worthy of weapons that can keep up with them.”

Izuku stood back, wary of the blades even as his eyes caught the hue of steel. “What makes your weapons so special?”

Muramasa chuckled and reached out to stroke one of the blades, flipping it around his fingers as his hand gleamed with a metallic shimmer.

“Metal Caress, my quirk, allows me to adjust the internal structure of metal. From sharpening the edges, to perfectly welding much more complex materials into their core.” Muramasa turned back, holding out the first blade by the narrow tip. “And sometimes, I even get an interesting idea. Here, to replace your dagger, the one I believe killed the knight, Havel.”

As Izuku reached out, his hand slowed with hesitance for a moment before he took the dagger and traced his eyes over it. A spiral-patterned hilt, and a cross guard with a curl. The blade was slender, nearly as long as his forearm, and shaped more like the point of a rapier or estoc than an actual dagger. It was light, balanced just behind the hilt, but a flick of the handle showed that the grip felt… almost natural. He held it up and twisted the blade in the light, seeing how the metal shone with striations of color almost like a damascus, if not for the sheer complexity of the pattern.

“Fixed with a carbon lattice and a tungsten core, the blade should take most strikes without snapping, unlike the one that killed Havel. Beyond that, I infused the outer layers of the steel edge with chromium. It should be able to pierce most softer materials, and will hold a very sharp edge. That said, the blade will still need cleaning. The fusion means I sacrificed some of the chromium's rust resistance.” As Muramasa spoke, Izuku was slowly flipping the knife around, testing each grip and some quick Kata, before flipping it around and handing it back.

“And the rest?”

Muramasa nodded, then pulled the second blade from the table. It was longer, and not a dagger, but instead a sword.

And not just any sword.

It was Solaire’s.

The Sunlight Straight Sword.

The one that he was handed by Solaire as the man bled out deep underground, surrounded by the gleam of the worms that had bewitched him.

It looked the same, down to the scratches that he remembered came from the black knight scraping along it when he parried that last greatsword. The grip looked worn, the familiar colors and etchings all but singing to him that this was the sword Solaire had left him, had pressed into his hand with those parting words.

“My Sun may have set… but you still seek yours. Let my blade… guide you… well...”

He didn’t even realize he had the blade in his hand, held across his arm almost reverently, until Muramasa spoke up.

“I was right… this blade was meant for you. A memorial, no? An oath.”

“...Yeah… Something like that.”

As Izuku hefted the blade, he paused.

This was a blade for justice. For a quest… But something about it made him stop.

‘WHERE IS HE?!’

A flicker of thought, the echo of those first moments, when the world had felt like fire, like there was too much, too many thoughts and sensations… And under it all, a rage that he had banked on for the better half of the simulation.

And now, it was there, pulsing uncomfortably under his grip.

Solaire was a good man.

His blade wasn’t a perfect fit for Izuku. Not as he was now. He reached out and took the plain, black leather sheath trimmed with silver from where it lay on the table and slid the sword in. It clicked shut with a note of finality.

He wouldn’t use it. Not now. Not until he could wield it without regrets.

Muramasa gave a deep laugh. “My, what a wise young man you are, passing my test without even letting me speak. Here, a blade more fitting for you. A fresh history, if you will.”

Izuku set the straight sword down and looked at the new blade Muramasa was unsheathing.

A slender blade, straight and narrow, its edge lined with a Japanese blade’s Hamon, so dark it was nearly black. But in the darkness, silver and strange fractals that caught the light lay, before the dark faded to grey and then to a blue temper. Along the center, a single fuller ran, the inside tainted reddish-gold, revealing that the core of the blade was a different color than the rest. As it was flipped around in Muramasa’s hold, it almost called out to Izuku’s senses, even as his hand rose to meet the handle.

It was lighter than Solaire’s blade, but seemed a touch longer. The chisel-like tip was more of a Tanto’s piercing fang than the flowing shape he was used to, but something about its weight was almost… patient. It sat low in his grip like a sleeping viper. And as he looked over the pommel, a simple black piece that capped the edges of the leather wrapping, he was struck by something.

A phrase… a moment...

‘Blood at sunset.’

‘The scent of iron as red flashed in the dark and damp.’

‘The strain of a thousand swings.’

As Izuku held the blade, he felt a natural smile stretch across his lips. It was kind, and was familiar. It was the smile he’d worn when he was a child, chasing after the dream of being a hero. It was wide and natural and filled with a content joy.

And it was unsettling, directed at the black and red of the blade.

“Now, the final test before I show you the special one. What are you gonna name it?”

A name...

He paused, before it came to him.

“Blight-Killer… Its name is Blight-Killer.”

---

Then

As the locker door was ripped free, Izuku shifted and his hand clenched. He wasn’t braced right, he could barely aim, but the handgun fired with a bang and the Alien reared back, green spraying the wall and dripping as it boiled and corroded through the paint and steel of the deck.

Hand screaming in pain but ignoring it, Izuku sprinted for the lift, stumbling even as he slid into the brightly lit tram car.

There, bright and green, was the button to move to the far tower.

Izuku slammed it, all but collapsed and gasping in pain even as the doors closed, the screams of the monster echoing from behind him as the tram began to move.

As the adrenaline faded away, a surge of pain racked his body.

The gunshot had broken his finger, and his wrist wasn’t much better off. As he slumped onto the tram’s bench, he looked at the left arm of his jumpsuit, seeing the still-smoking holes where the monster’s blood had eaten through the cloth.

Holding his hand out, he could see the way his finger was… shifted out of place. Even trying to flex his hand was a quick way to see stars.

But he didn’t really have a choice.

Sliding the collar of his jumpsuit between his teeth, Izuku reached out and grabbed his dislocated finger, a muffled scream echoing through the enclosed space as he touched the injury.

A deep breath, hissed out with pain and anxiety, and he tugged.

The scream that left his jaw was pushed through hard enough that it ripped through the collar of his shirt.

As Izuku curled into the seat, biting back tears and hissing out whimpers from the pain, the watch on his wrist chimed.

Primary Objective updated. Investigate where the Alien came from.

Secondary Objective: Neutralize the Alien.

---

Now

Kurogiri arranged the latest of his cleaned glasses behind the bar. The past week had been quiet. Tomura was still sleeping more than he usually did, and he was bedridden after his impromptu surgery. The application of Sensei’s quirk was always difficult to adapt to.

Kurogiri knew that as well as anyone.

Regardless, as the last glass was cleaned and racked, the sound of the television at the end of the bar turning on drew his attention.

“Kurogiri… how has Tomura been adjusting?”

Kurogiri slid the rag over an old stain, even as he spoke. “I’ve seen no signs of the corruption, and his blood toxicity is within the safe margins so far.”

“Hmmm… Good, very good. And how has he adapted to his new vision?”

“He’s stopped flinching so much, but he still prefers to keep his face bandaged for now. I heard him mention adjusting his mask to cover the scarring a bit easier.” Kurogiri was blatant, and began to wipe the counter once more.

“Acceptable. Our new researcher is working nicely, but he admits he is woefully lacking the technology we need for a full recreation.”

Kurogiri let a flickering eyebrow raise. “I assumed he would be working on behavior training.”

“He is, but it seems most of the man’s research was locked up. I-Island likes to keep their toys quiet.”

Kurogiri nodded, before glancing at the screen.

“Are you assigning this to Wolfram? A second objective?”

“You are correct- ah, it seems our time is up.”

Above Kurogiri, the roof creaked as someone began to walk, unsteadily, through the hall above.

“Understood.”

As the screen went black, Kurogiri glanced at the shiny glass of the stacked cups, flinching as the image distorted his reflection.

Ob… o ... kumo

The distant words were buried in the haze of the static in his thoughts.

He ripped away from the flicker of memory, turning instead to the stairs.

He had a job to do.

---

???

The bodies were laid out before the two men.

The seven villains who had been killed or taken in by the heroes after being broken out of Tartarus, now only corpses at the hands of two mad scientists. The Morgues where they were held had been easy enough to ransack.

“I do believe we’ll make quite a monster out of them.”

The dry tone came from behind bottle-bottomed glasses, the rotund doctor sitting comfortably in a rolling chair as most of the bodies were slowly lowered into tanks of preservative liquids. To the side, in two vibrant green tanks of a chemical solution, the bloodied and torn up forms of both the Hunter and the Nomu were floating.

The taller scientist reached out and let his hand rest on the chest of Kazuto, the only body not in the preservation solution. He slowly traced his fingers around the now-dried wound where the man’s heart had once been.

With a flicker of his quirk, the body vanished, a large computer bank nearby beginning to beep as data flowed into it.

Akihiko Sugoh could only smile.

‘And now… I just need the Physical Recording. I just need Subject Nine.’

Chapter 27: Patch Notes

Now
Izuku adjusted the large case hanging across his back as he moved through the side streets towards his home. There had been paperwork to fill out, to register his new weapons as hero gear.

The case was nearly as long as he was tall, and made of a dark wood bound with bands of metal that were fastened with a pair of sleek combination locks.

As he turned up his street, he glanced up, eyes narrowing as he heard… something.

He stepped to the side, and closed his eyes, focusing. He let the sounds of the city fade: The cars were ignored, the wind was tuned out, the ambient sounds of a hundred people doing various things shuffled to the back of his mind.

But beyond it, he could hear what he was looking for.

Camera snapping… a dozen monologues into recorders, the murmur of people talking to cameras.

He focused on a single voice, high pitched and feminine, as she spoke clearly.

“-the survivor of the Simulation, Sixteen year old Midoriya Izuku, has been unavailable for comment so far. We await him here, hoping to hear his own take on the developments of the Akihiko Sugou escape from Tartar-”

Izuku froze.

His hand twitched, his pulse raced, his entire attitude shattering as the welling rage swelled.

Escape.

HE ESCAPED.

He breathed in, and it was uneven, hissing and hysterical, tinged with madness and rage and hate.

He slumped back against the wall, hands wrapping around his gut. He felt the heat of his rage and the chill of the spring air as he shuddered.

Escaped…. ESCAPED…

The word seemed to pulse through him like poison.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his pockets for his phone, seeing the lack of messages.

His mom must not have been home yet. Must not have seen the reporters. She would have let him know. Would have warned him.

His hands fumbled and only his reflexes caught the phone before it slipped free.

He was panicking.

Why… Why was he panicking?

His shoulders were shaking, his breath was hard, hissed, sounding like the wheeze of a dying man.

He couldn’t see the words on his screen, the kanji were flickering, shifting.

He slumped against the wall more, the case digging into his back as the hand not holding his phone began to drip.

When had he clenched his hand?

Bleeding.

He was bleeding.

‘Escaped. Escaped. Escaped.’

His eyes drifted shut, but he could still see it.

The alley, the moment when he had felt that hand around his shoulder, the needle in his neck.

He had been walking home.

They had found his bag, his backpack, his notebook still damp from the Koi Pond.

It had all been evidence.

He remembered the world going fuzzy, the slurred conversation.

Sugou, with his bright blood colored hair, his manic eyes.

The flicker as he reached out- and then nothing until he awoke in the simulation.

Izuku opened his eyes, hand outstretched; the brick of the building at his side was cracked and bloodied, his left hand covered in fresh scabs.

He felt the steel wires of his mind shift, leashing his emotions as he drained them away.

He couldn’t be a person.

Not right now.

He glanced at his phone, noting the faint cracks of his phone case as he tapped out a simple message.

He turned to take the back route into the apartment building.

But he couldn’t stay inside. He couldn’t risk his mother's safety. Not when he couldn’t stop himself.

As the phone buzzed, he ignored it and moved with a thoughtless, easy grace, hood coming up over his hair as his eyes darkened, dilating and constricting as his emotions sent his body out of its balance.

The drip of blood from his still clenched fist fell like a metronome as he turned around the far corner of his apartment block.

The reporters were easy to see, gathered on the steps of the building, but he kept walking past the street, around to the side of the block.

They didn’t notice the flicker of motion as Midoirya lept from one roof to the next.

Hours later, Inko texted Nedzu in a panic.

Izuku is having an attack, and I have no idea where he is.

There's reporters outside!

What happened!?

In Izuku’s bedroom, the weapon case was opened, three blades resting in their sheathes where it lay on his bed.

Blight-Killer was not among them.

---

Then

The lift had left Izuku in what felt like a Tokyo train station. Seats and lockers surrounded him, but as Izuku shook off the pain of his encounter with the monster, he took stock.

The revolver in his hand was heavy, and with a moment’s study, he flipped the cylinder out, frowning. Only two bullets. Closing the cylinder he thumbed the grip and trigger, before cursing at the fact that he didn’t have a holster for it. He shifted it to his left hand, wincing at the unfamiliar grip.

Holding it low to his side, Izuku took to inspecting the signs. The map had said he needed to pass through the lobby above…

The sign for the Sys-Tech Lobby was to the left. A moment of looking around, and he headed up.

He moved quietly, glancing around as he reached the stairs leading up to the lobby. As he ascended the steps, he stumbled, the sound of metal cans clattering as he glanced down to see the faint gleam of a wire pulled against his foot.

As Izuku took it in, he was already diving for the scarce cover that a crate of luggage offered at the top of the stairs. “Shit-”

“DIE!”

As gunshots rang out, Izuku cursed his luck.

When the bullets stopped ringing out, the sound of running steps took over.

A glance around the luggage showed a taller woman sprinting from the far door of the room, clearly out of ammo.

“Wha- Okay?”

As she vanished, Izuku darted from cover, kicking the string free as he sprinted to see what was-

Square, blocky.

An Access Tuner! Izuku grabbed it and reached to turn it on-

No Data Module detected.

And cursed.

When he heard the running steps as the woman from before headed back, this time accompanied by another half dozen people, Izuku just gave a sigh before sprinting for the upper levels of the lobby. He really didn’t have the gear to fight these people.

As he slid around a railing, he glanced out and glared.

Well, shit. The door to engineering is on the other side of the room.

This was not Izuku’s day.

As the group of scavengers spread out, Izuku reached into his pocket for a flashbang and started counting distances.

This was going to suck.

---

Now

Nedzu sighed as he ended the conversation, setting his phone down. Midoriya Inko has been wonderfully cooperative, despite her worry

Tapping at his computer, the map of the city booted up, and the glowing GPS dot of Midoriya was bright and obvious, lingering out at the cleared off beach that Mirio-san and Toshinori had once cleared out for the teen’s training.

As Nedzu folded his paws he considered the circumstances.

Like he had been doing so far, Midoriya had reacted to a breakdown by isolating himself, leaving the places where collateral damage would occur. The fact that he had taken a sword from the case that Muramasa-san had given him did raise concerns, but Nedzu was more than willing to give the young man the benefit of the doubt and assume he wasn't going out to track and kill Sugou. At least, not currently.

Tapping at his keyboard, he altered the search parameters, including the current patrol routes of heroes in the area. He quickly began to filter through them, checking for the heroes with the highest skills to help talk it out with the teen.

Soon enough he paused, and smiled. That would work.

He picked up the phone and began to dial.

“Hello, can you connect me to Fukukado-san please?”

---

Then

The flash of gunfire matched with the Impact against Izuku’s shoulder as he dove through another doorway, slamming into the railing as he gasped at the spreading fire of pain in his shoulder.

As he sprinted down the stairwell, he heard the distant swears.

“Fucking- lock him in!”

The doors slammed closed with a hiss, and Izuku slowed to a stop, crashing with his left arm against the wall as he gasped at the pulse of pain from his arm. Already, the sleeve of his jumpsuit was changing color, dyed closer to black than the off green that it came as.

He reached up to try and feel the wound and gasped in pain. The gunshot had taken him just into the meat of his shoulder, and as he tried to flex he could feel the bullet still embedded in the muscles.

Gritting his teeth he tried to tuck his arm into the lapel of his suit to keep it from moving as much and keep pressure off the joint.

Breathing a hissed curse, Izuku headed back down the stairs.

Pain is worthless. A distraction.

He felt as his breathing began to steady despite the motion. He was still bleeding, but he could address that when he had a moment to sit and deal with it. Hopefully with a medical kit.

At the bottom of the stairwell, he found the maintenance bay.

He glanced around as he paced in, ignoring how he was leaving a clear blood trail behind him. As he rounded the corner, he caught it, the flicker of movement of something darting through a far door above him in a raised up office.

Izuku breathed in, and wished he hadn’t wasted his bullets in the lobby.

He considered his options and cursed silently.

The best place to find a medkit would probably be that goddamn office.

“I already hate this.”

He walked slowly, eyes peeled as he reached the steps up to the office, seeing nothing through the window, Izuku narrowed his eyes.

He pushed through the door and looked around before freezing. Another handgun was on the desk, and next to it was a keycard and a bright orange and white tube.

And across the floor was a bloodstain that was dragged out the back doorway and around a stairwell heading up.

‘Shit.’

Izuku grabbed the revolver, tucking it into a pocket before he snagged the medical kit.

And then, he reached out and closed the door way up the stairs.

He was already getting dizzy from blood loss. Even if the monster came for him, he needed to seal up his shoulder before he passed out.

So, with that in mind, Izuku peeled off the bloodsoaked shoulder of his jumpsuit, and got to work.

The medical injector was some sort of bonding agent and coagulant mix. It would line up the wound and then seal it shut, the gel would even contract to close the thing up and act as an anesthetic.

Sadly, this meant his arm was still going to be harder to move, and that it would continue to be damn near useless for combat.

He was not going to enjoy this.

When he finally got the wound stitched up, he left the top half of his jumpsuit around his waist, folded to leave the pockets in easy reach.

Besides, he still needed the data cell for the scanner.

Breathing in Izuku glanced back at the doorway up, and out to the hallway of locked doors below the office.

“Well. I really hope shooting this thing helps.”

And with that, he set off into the workshops to find a Data Cell.

---

Now

The beach was quiet, soft moonlight reflecting off the water in the dark of the night.

The air was cut smoothly, only the faintest whisper of sharpness would ring out with each sweeping step and flash of the blade.

Izuku stood in a ring of sand that had been torn and disturbed, the sharp lines decorating it like a macabre variant of a classical sand garden. Even now, as he spun and thrust with the gleaming black and gold of Blight-killer, the sound of it cutting through the air was a whisper of intent.

He had ditched his father's jacket, leaving it and the sheath for Blight-killer back away from the surf.

Izuku could feel the ache of his muscles, the way the skin under his grip was blistered and raw from hours of swinging the blade around, of adjusting to the weight and balance of the metal.

As he moved into a series of slashes, it happened.

His leg gave out as he stepped his weight onto it, his blade sliding into the sand to support him as he knelt. The familiar ache of his body starving as his reserves of strength ran out.

He was breathing heavily, but practice kept him from gasping; his breaths were quiet, despite their desperation. Despite the emotional weight that now hung from his shoulders like iron chains.

The man who sent him through hell was Free.

Fact.

The people who broke him out tried to kill him once already.

Fact.

He pushed off the ground, swaying as he lifted his blade up, sliding it from the disturbed sand as he breathed out, holding it in a duelists salute.

Both of them would be coming after Izuku and those around him.

Fact.

The sound of footsteps broke him from his thoughts, and he glanced back to see a woman in green and orange smile at him.

“You look like you could use a joke, yeah?”

Izuku couldn’t stop the blink of surprise.

“Ms. Joke?”

---

Then

As Izuku opened the last door, the gun held at the ready, he blinked.

There, in the middle of the storage room, a large red case sat, blinking. He moved closer and glanced around once more, before sliding the gun into his pocket and looking at the stenciled words on the side of the box. Everything else had been branded by Seegson, but this was a different insignia.

“What's…. The USCSS Nostromo?”

Izuku tilted and looked over the case, before trying to tap at the end console.

Data Corrupted.

“Hmmm.”

He glanced over the various notes on the table, before coming across one in particular, reading it aloud. “Brought in with the injured co-captain of the Anesidora. Captain is currently in San Cristobal ER.”

The distant sound of a crash tore Izuku from his thoughts. He summoned his notebook and made a copy of the notes, he could explore them on his own later.

In the meantime, he hunted through the shelves of the storage room. There was plenty of junk, components for specialized machines and repairs to the station. But, soon, he found it.

Level 1 Security Access Data Core.

He slid the piece from its small case and thumbed it into the slot at the bottom of his Tuner.

With a soft hum, it began to boot up, showing the dials to modulate the access frequency so he could spoof the card readers on the door locks.

It would take practice, but it should be useful.

As he stepped back towards the center of the area, he paused, seeing something sitting in the corner.

A blocky sensor with a hand grip and what looked like a small radar on its front.

As he stepped close, he could see the note.

‘Thing uses the vents for travel, made this to keep track of it. When Jen gets back I'll build her one too.’

As Izuku hefted the sensor he hummed to himself.

“Might be useful…”

Hooking it to his waist, Izuku grabbed a backpack and started raiding the rest of the stock.

He wasn’t going unprepared, not now.

Chapter 28: Stealth Systems

Summary:

The largest chapter yet, at 7K words
The sports festival is almost here...

Now

Izuku glanced over the wooden surface of the table in front of him at the form of Ms. Joke- or, as she asked to be called, Emi.

“So, Nedzu called you, and I’m betting you got my location from my phone. My question is why you?” Izuku bit into a fry from his half-cleared plate. The two of them had moved to a small American diner, which was open 24 hours, and Izuku’s hunger had taken the reins for a bit. Emi had been more than willing to let him sate the building feeling before they started talking about the more serious topic, which he was grateful for.

As the pro-hero set her drink down, Izuku began to idly stir the straw in his.

“I wasn’t a student at UA, but for a few years I worked as Aizawa’s partner. We were under Nedzu for quite a few missions. When I moved to being a more ‘public’ hero though, I kept in touch. Right now I'm actually teaching at Ketsubutsu. I think Nedzu thought you could use someone who isn’t involved with anything about your situation to vent to.”

Izuku gave a slow sip of his drink as he considered this. He was… tired. Not just by the strain of his muscles, or the exhaustion that seeped through his bones when he forgot to sleep.

He was at a tipping point. A mental door where if he opened up he wasn’t likely to stop talking. He could probably push it off for a few more days until Hound Dog’s appointment.

He didn’t really want to wait. Not right now. Not with the escape on the news.

“The world doesn’t make sense to me some days.”

He glanced out the dark window, staring at the quiet street.

“People are so… unaware. Not about everything, no. But I look at the people I pass on the street, and all I can see some days is how… unsteady, they walk. How flat footed they would be. They have no awareness. I can walk through a crowd with the intent to kill all but bleeding from my frame and none of them would fight back. None of them would even notice.” Izuku gave a scoff, hand tracing the rim of his glass.

“I can’t act like that. I can’t blind myself. I can’t shelf my weapon and stick my head in the sand.”

Emi looked away. “I can get that. It's hard to stop looking when you’ve seen the issues.”

Izuku took a moment, picking at the remains of his burger and fries.

“I close my eyes and see every monster that’s ever killed me.” He looked at the glass, seeing a half-formed reflection of the diner, of him and Ms. Joke. “I feel them, some days. My nerves are overgrown with echoes of deathblows. Every severed limb tingles at the stump. Every cut itches. Every broken bone aches when the rain comes.” He glanced up to see a faint glimpse of horrified understanding. “I was stuck in a death game, and it left some very real marks on my body. Even if my skin was regrown, my muscles were replaced, my bones strengthened and reinforced… my nerves had to be left mostly intact. And my body never told them to stop growing to replace and repair themselves.”

“Wait, how sensitive are you-” Ms. Joke looked disturbed.

“I can feel the difference in air pressure from someone walking towards me from five meters away. I can feel the differences in the textures between types of metals. When I'm hit, I can feel it intimately.” Izuku cut himself off with another sip of his soda, savoring the taste.

“God, spars must be excruciating.”

“Not really. Pain is easy to break down after a while; it's just my body trying to explain damage. I can compartmentalize it. For the rest, a thick jacket keeps a lot of issues away.” Izuku glanced at the blisters along his hand. Even now, only an hour after his hands were ripped and torn, he could see the new skin slowly forming. The once bloodied tears were now thin, red markings as his hand sealed them up and his body began the work to fix his wounds.

He glanced down and took a moment to eat the last of his burger, letting Emi come to terms with everything.

“God, I need a smoke.”

Izuku quirked a lip into the fur of his jacket collar. “Only if you share. Hell, I’m going to need one if I’m talking about Sugou.”

---

Then

Izuku glanced from the security tuner to the now empty maintenance room. His jacket had been slung back on, and the holes on his left sleeve wrapped up tight with layers of electrical tape to keep it from getting caught on things. Across his back, a bag of gear and supplies was tight and secured.

He looked at the automatic security lock and flipped the tuner on. A moment of fiddling to find the right signal opened up a small menu where he could match the code. A couple seconds of figuring it out and the door beeped, the red light turning green as it opened.

He slid the tuner into a convenient holster, next to where his revolver now hung. As he looked around, he saw a new door opened up and padded his way in that direction, only to stop, taking in the corpse looking out of the doorway.

‘So it is here. Shit.’

He stepped up, pausing to add the map on the wall to his book. When he reached the corpse, he pulled the jumpsuit on its chest away from the skin, showing the wound behind it.

‘All the way through… and it's messy. That tail really is no joke. But it didn’t drag this body off like the guard. Was it just not hungry or was there something else?’

Glancing around he paused, seeing another door with an auto-lock. A minute of fiddling and it opened with a beep, Izuku stepping through only to blink at the well-kept office.

Shrugging, he decided to perform the standard ‘loot to the ground’ approach.

He didn’t find much rifling through the cabinets. Mostly office supplies. It wasn’t until he tapped the voice mail (A cassette recorder? Wow.) that he paused.

"Message for Marshal Waits. This is Chief Porter in Tech Support. Look, there's nothing on this flight recorder, Waits. We've broken God knows how many corporate confidentiality agreements and come up with zip — nothing except the Weyland-Yutani logo and an empty read-out. Now, these things are built to last, so either someone on board the Nostromo asked its mother core to wipe it clean, or somehow the data's been corrupted before it got here. Care to fill me in on why this was a priority job?"

“A wiped memory drive, a murderous alien, and that company… Weyland-Yutani…”

He stood up and glanced out of the doors to the rest of the maintenance bay. The area was on lockdown, and he was almost positive that the alien was still lurking, waiting to make its move.

He looked at the bottle of scotch he found under the desk, and popped the cap off.

“A swig for luck.”

He knocked it back, taking a large gulp before sputtering, feeling the burn of alcohol down his throat and coughing into his arm.

As he got used to the taste, he grimaced.

“Fuck that.”

He was about to put the bottle back down when he paused. Thoughtfully, he replaced the lid and slid it into his bag.

If he could find an ignition source, that could be useful.

Stretching, he headed for the door, mind running through his current questions and goals.

‘What the hell happened to the Nostromo, where did the creature come from, who the hell is Weyland-Yutani? And what happened in the Medical Wing?’

He shook the thoughts away and glanced around. There should be a console around here that controls the security system, and if he can lift the lockdown he can start making his way up towards the medical floors.

Checking the hallway, he slowed his breathing.

‘I feel like I'm being watched…’

As he passed through another doorway, he saw it, the flashing red lights of the computer console that was in charge of the security lockdown.

He approached it slowly, checking his surroundings before leaning over the console.

“Security lockdown… Disable… Confirm…” he tapped at the buttons, when a shifting sound drew his eyes up.

The shape was black and iridescent, all fluid angles and sharp chiton.

Izuku was under the desk in a second, contorting as deep as he could into the foot well, breath held.

A sound like the click of a geiger counter rang out, hissing and shifting as the tap of clawed feet crunched onto the table above him.

The tail, long and with segmented chiton, ended in a blood-covered, spear-like tip that hung loose and scored the steel with every swaying movement. It slid over the desk to thud heavily on the ground as a clawed leg stomped on the chair, shattering it.

Drool oozed and dripped onto the ground, and Izuku focused, keeping his breath held and his pulse slow, despite the growing sense of panic building in his chest.

He began to shift, the motion slow and measured as he reached for his handgun.

A distant beep, some sort of automated system turning on now that the lockdown was over, and the Alien shifted, stepping back towards the front of the desk, the tail sliding around the corner as heavy footsteps began to pace away.

Izuku was still on edge, waiting.

The hiss of a door opening, the distant chitter of the creature, and Izuku still didn’t dare breathe, even as he slowly reached out, pulling his head out to peer over the lip of the desk, just in time to see the twisted, pipe-like protrusions on the Alien’s back pass through the door.

‘Oh. Fuck.’

---

Now

Izuku was back on Dagobah beach, sitting on the end of the pier.

He had his sword across his lap, a rag in his hand as he stripped the flakes of blood from its handle. The blade, even after several hours of hard-worn practice, was nearly flawless. There were no scratches or nicks. The edge had just barely lost its razor sharpness, but a moment with the ring he wore honed it back towards perfection.

He picked a dried spot of blood off the leather and glanced back down the pier, seeing the approaching form of Emi once more. When she had stepped away to get supplies for an ‘emotional heart to heart’ she headed off to a convenience store. Izuku noticed that now that she had a few minutes to calm herself, she was far more focused and centered. He also expected a phone call had occurred.

As Ms. Joke plopped down next to him at the end of the pier, she dropped the bag from the convenience store between them. Izuku glanced in and dug out a pack of cigarettes, pulling a metal flip lighter from his jacket even as the edge of his nail broke the seal.

“In a rush, kid?” Joke dug out her own pack of cigarettes, and from the six pack at the bottom of the bag, pulled out a beer.

“I haven’t had a smoke in a month and a half, and it’s been a very stressful afternoon.” Izuku muttered as he bit on the filter and pulled one of the smokes from the pack. He tucked the carton into his jacket and brought his hands up to curl around the flame of the lighter as he held it to the end of the cigarette, letting the paper and tobacco catch and glow.

As he clicked his lighter closed, he took a long, slow, breath.

The acrid taste of the cigarette was grounding, and the faint tingle of nicotine was familiar. After a moment, he exhaled, the smoke dark blue in the light of the moon over the water.

As he let the cigarette simply smolder, he dug out a beer for himself, popping the cap with the hilt of his sword in a smooth motion.

‘Where to start…’

---

“I’ve died over seven-hundred times.”

Emi took a swig of her beer as she watched Izuku speak. She had heard the basics from Nedzu when the rat called her up during the end of her patrol.

She still wasn’t sure she was the best person to deal with this, but seeing the young man with a beer in one hand and the glow of his cigarette casting him in sharp contrast against the dark of the ocean, she thought she might be doing some good.

He had been dissociating all afternoon; from when she first saw him on that beach up to the time they had finished eating, that distant, glazed look in his eyes had never really left.

But here, on the end of the pier, with the city lit up back behind them and the darkness of the ocean and the night sky before them, he seemed to loosen up. The cigarette, something she doubted most heroes would approve of, was clearly helping. A coping mechanism, or even just something that grounded him in the here and now.

With a beer in one hand, his sword across his knees, and his feet dangling over the water, Izuku leaned back and looked up into the sky, and his eyes gleamed.

“I know the records say I was never actually dead. The system was designed to only simulate it.”

He pulled the cigarette from his lips and held up his hand almost as if he was reaching for the stars beyond them, hand flexed and the glowing ember against the back of his knuckles.

“I’ve been stabbed. Burned. Broken. Disemboweled. I know how it feels when you bleed out and your body runs cold. I know how choking on bone and blood feels. How electrocution makes you twitch, and burning feels cold after the nerve endings are seared away.” He slowly shifted his fingers until they made a ‘gun’ shape, cigarette smoking from between his fingers, aiming at the moon. “I’ve snapped my own neck instead of being eaten. When I had knives, I would slit my own throat to the spine. It was faster than bleeding out from a gut wound. I shot myself in the head… at least thirty times. That was the quickest way to avoid dying when I was trapped and outmatched in the later games.”

The casual tone set her skin prickling, the goosebumps of the ease with which he spoke of attempting, no, succeeding in suicide. She could see the glint in his eyes, distant once more, but now far more poisonous. Before, it had seemed like a light in the dark, but now it was gleaming like radioactive waste.

“I nearly gave up… but I kept remembering the first death.” Izuku lowered his hand. “I was panicking, the sensations had been overwhelming. The fear… I was breaking. I was breaking so fast. And Sugou decided I needed a push. He threatened my mom. Spoke about seeing what would happen if she was shoved into a simulation just like mine.” The teen’s face twitched, and Ms. Joke could see the monster of rage and hate that was simmering under the surface.

A swig of beer gave them a moment to settle, for Izuku to push the monster back under.

“I admit, I pulled a lot from a childhood friend of mine’s playbook. I got angry. I got loud and crass and aggressive. I pulled my anger up as much as possible. And at the center of all that was Sugou.”

He took another long drag of smoke.

“When I got out, I wanted to kill him. To face him and beat the everloving shit out of him. I know what someone can survive, after all. I could make it last. When they managed to sedate me, and explained he was wrapped up tight in Tartarus, I made peace with it. I shelved it for another time and place. I could wait until he was dead and piss on his grave. Get my closure elsewhere. And then I was busy. I had tests to catch up on, exams to go through, and the distant worry that I was going to break down dying at some point. Or that the world wasn’t real. The occasional hallucinations weren’t helping on that front.”

“And then UA.” Emi spoke up, already trying to organize the events she had of the teen’s last few months.

“And then UA.” Izuku confirmed, mouth quirked. “Which has been going pretty good.”

Izuku pulled the spent butt of the cigarette from his lips, grinding it out on the wood of the pier.

“It's been 71 days since I left the simulation.” He flicked the spent butt into the bag, and lifted his bottle in a sardonic toast. “And in that less than three months, the monster of a man who shoved me in a death game is free, I’ve formed a lifelong enemy who pledged to destroy my reason for living, I’ve somehow become the fighting teacher for two of my classmates, and I have a world famous public tournament coming up. So yeah. I’m trying really hard to not try and hunt the League down.”

“Because of Sugou?”

“Somewhat. But also Shigaraki. If I learned anything from my experiences, it's not to let an enemy get a handle on your patterns, or give them time to adapt. Because of that. If I ever see Sugou, I know I won't stop until he’s a smear on the ground, and his body is ash. And if I see Shigaraki anywhere near my family? Well, my last shot took an eye.” Izuku glanced at her, meeting Emi’s eyes with a steady gaze and a weight that made her breath come short. “My next one is going through his chest.”

As he glanced back, Emi took a second to breathe, shaking off the memory of the teen’s killing intent. She sipped at her beer to buy a moment before joking, tapping her elbow at the teen’s side.“You really shouldn’t be admitting to aspiring murder.”

“You’re letting a teenager smoke and drink. I think this is a mutually assured destruction kinda scenario.”

She pretended not to notice the soft smile on the teen’s face.

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the corner, gun in hand as he watched the form of the monster pace the hallway back towards the office he had first seen it in.

It was in the middle of his main route back to the lobby. If only he had a way past- there.

He waited for the creature to hiss and step further across the hall before Izuku took two long steps, carefully quiet, until he was on the far side of the doorway with the vent right next to him.

He glanced back in just in time to see the swaying, blade-like tail whip around before vanishing up through a vent in the ceiling.

“Shit.”

Izuku hissed the curse even as he glanced at the vent to his side. He didn’t have time to check the blueprints, but he could only hope that the vents were a part of two seperate systems, at least for this room.

He crouched, the automated metal cover shifting open to reveal the dark corridors of the vent system.

With a deep breath, he lifted himself up and in, crouched on the ductwork as he began to follow the corridor, taking the first left in order to head back to the stairwell out of the maintenance area.

He could barely make out the twists and turns of the vent, but he was focused more on being quiet and unseen than speed right now.

It took nearly two minutes before he reached what he thought was the end of the vent, seeing another exit from the system.

He tapped the button to open the vent, and winced at the sound of it hissing open, before it gave an echoing clang.

Izuku felt his blood freeze.

The metal blades were jammed, still half-closed. And he could hear the distant skittering of the fucking creature in the vents.

He shifted, throwing his legs in front of him as he kicked out, the metal deforming and shattering under his boot, but not enough.

‘Again!’

The skittering sound of the monster moving drew closer, and even as it closed in, Izuku was kicking, trying to get enough leverage to-

With a final kick, the door and its entire housing broke free, and Izuku didn’t stop to check it.

He pushed off, throwing himself out of the vents with as much force as he could, not pausing for even a moment as his feet scrabbled for traction as he sprinted for the stairwell out of the area.

The sounds of the creature echoed, becoming screams that pierced through the quiet of the station.

As he skidded around the doorway, he could see it, arms and legs catching as it leapt from the empty vent.

He slammed the door control behind him, hoping to slow it down before he sprinted up the stairs three steps at a time, already reaching for the security tuner as he panted in fear.

Please for the love of god, be quick. Please please please-

As he hit the top floor landing he saw the door, and the tuner began to connect, shaky fingers scrolling the wheel to tune the frequency.

‘No-nononoonononono-there! FUCK SCROLL BACK-’

As the code screen appeared, he slammed in the authorization code, the doors opening too slowly for him as he scraped through as soon as it was cracked- and lost his balance.

As he crashed to his knees, he heard the sound of the alien on the stairs as it lept. He glanced back and he could see it, claws and a dome-shaped black skull clearly defined as it lunged at- and over him.

As the creature passed over him, he didn’t get out unscathed, the tail lashing out and across his face, drawing a scream as it cut through his cheek to the bone.

As he staggered in pain, the creature, the Alien, landed ahead of him, near the railing over the lobby below.

It twisted and turned, looking back and down at him, mouth hissing as it opened its jaw, where Izuku could make out the outline of a second jaw.

He screamed.

And that's when the gunshots rang out.

Izuku could only stare as the bullets sparked off the Alien’s natural armor, barely drawing a mark on the shell of the creature.

But it did draw its attention.

As the Alien leapt over the railing, hissing and screaming, Izuku could only barely think.

Shit… Guns don’t work. Not unless-

He remembered the locker from earlier. He had fired the gun point-blank against the creature’s head and it had barely been hindered.

He shifted and felt it as he sucked in air through the hole in his cheek. He wanted to scream, but he had to move.

He pushed up, staggering into a crouch as his head swayed. He could see over the railing now…

He could see the Alien massacring a group of survivors.

“Shit… SHIT!” Izuku hissed even as the word made his cheek scream in pain. He began to move, crouched as he circled around the upper balcony, wincing at each bloody death of another survivor, even as he refused to tear his gaze away. He couldn’t waste this. It was a look at how the Alien moved, how it acted- SOUND! IT RESPONDS TO SOUND!

He could see it, how it always refocused on the last gunshot as its next target.

He began to frantically check his pockets, before he found it. A pair of noise makes. They had been simple to make, just a speaker, a battery, and an on/off switch with a timer. He had glued them up with a bonding agent and some spare wire. His hands shook as he clenched his fist around the first one.

‘I only have these two… but. If I can just get it to leave me alone long enough to open the elevator door! I can get off this level.’

As the screams of another dying survivor were choked off, Izuku could only pray.

---

Now

Izuku stepped through the door into his apartment and glanced around. It was past midnight, and the lights in the apartment were off. As he shrugged off his leather jacket, he could hear his mom's soft breathing.

At his side, his fingers traced over a keypad to check the apartment's security system, a soft flash of green was all he needed to know that no one besides him and his mom had been in the rooms.

As he moved through the apartment, he stepped lightly and carefully, his passage silent. He reached the living room, sighing at the sight of his mom wrapped with a blanket around her shoulders, slumped on the couch.

'She stayed up for me… I should have called.'

Sighing to himself Izuku stepped up and reached to lift his mother from the couch, touch light and careful to keep her from stirring. As the blanket fell from her form, she leaned into Izuku.

Once more, he was struck by how… vulnerable his mother could be. She wasn't a violent woman, and he doubted she would be fast enough to escape if she was attacked by someone with Shigaraki's skills.

As he slowly walked towards his mom's room, he focused on calming his heart rate.

He pushed his thoughts away, letting himself focus on putting his mom to bed and pulling her blankets over her form.

As he rested a hand on her shoulder, he sighed, before speaking softly. "Sorry, ma. I should have called… but today has been hard. Talked some things out with a new friend… I'll keep you safe, mom. I swear it by the sun."

As he stood, he didn't realize that his mom was drifting in and out of sleep, that she would remember this.

Instead, he moved to his room. Unclipping the sheathed Blight-Killer, he stepped to the long black case across his bed, thumbing the latch as it clicked and hissed before reading his thumbprint and pulse.

With a beep, the lid shifted, silently unlocking as he lifted it to reveal the resting places of his blades. The Sunlight Sword was resting in its sheath and wrapped with a shroud of white and gold silk, the red of the sun insignia embossed over the center of the fabric. The parrying dagger was encased in a sheath made of black leather, the dull steel color of its handle obvious, but not overt.

And above them all, a longer shape rested in the case, wrapped in a black shroud and buckled with blue straps that kept it concealed from sight.

He wasn't ready to use that. He knew it, and Muramasa had even confirmed it. He needed to grow to fit the blade, and practice with its forms. He had admitted that Artorias was the inspiration, but not the result, and Izuku could see what he meant.

Muramasa had called it a strange weapon, and Izuku knew he chose those words with care.

He closed the case once Blight was carefully tucked away, the black sheath and blade resting in its place once more.

He felt the lock on the box engage, the entire container shuttering as it sealed shut.

He pulled it off his bed and crouched, sliding the carrying case under his bed. With his weapons secured, he began to strip for bed, removing the pants and shirt he wore, and the series of straps that held his knives under that.

One by one, a pair of Balisong knives and a switchblade were set on his dresser.

He reached up and felt around his ponytail, unhooking it to reveal a two-foot length of thin metal wire that had been tucked into the mess of green, which was quickly released from its hold. He shook it out, letting the stress of the day fall from him as he forced his body to loosen up and relax.

As he got in bed and tried to let himself calm enough to sleep, an amusing thought came to him.

I wonder if I can use my new blade in the sports festival.

---

Apparently, the answer was no, he could not use Muramasa’s gear in the sports festival.

Izuku glanced at the small note about his gear regulations and gave a deadpan look at Power Loader, before reading aloud.

"’No bladed weapons, no guns, and no explosives.' And I have to make anything that comes into the festival with me that isn't part of the standard UA sports uniform. The exception is my boots."

Izuku glanced at the knee-high red boots of his hero uniform where the outfit was laid out next to him, taking in the improved armoring along the instep and heel. They were practically weapons in their own right.

'I could just revive the Ishimura Stomp… Nah, I don't wanna kill people.' He looked out at the workshop, taking in the swarms of Support students who were finishing up gear for the festival, and the acute lack of time he had for a full build of gear.

"I guess I'll keep it simple then."

As he set the paper down he glanced at Power Loader. "I'm gonna be staying here for the afternoon. Can I borrow a work jacket and some gloves?"

As Izuku got to work, the rest of his class was doing the same, the building tension of the sports festival upon them.

---

Then

The Alien screeched once more, as the last screaming survivor fell to its assault.

As Izuku watched, eyes locked on the gap between a railing and a seat, he counted.

The Alien was glancing around, before it leapt up to where it had first pinned him to the ground.

As it did, Izuku flipped the switch, the noisemaker’s timer set for fifteen seconds, and tossed it to the recessed seating that lined the top level of the lobby. It was sunk from the railing, which should mean…

As the Alien started pacing the upper floor, Izuku slid along his knee and side down the stairs towards the door, his tuner already in his hand and the second noisemaker prepped, timer on and ready.

Three… two… o-

With a sound like a whistle from hell, the noisemaker started going off, and the Alien rushed along the upper level.

Izuku waited until it was about to pass into the area with the first noisemaker, and tossed the other one up towards the place the Alien had just left, even as he scrambled to move into the archway around the door, his hands already adjusting the tuner as he began to hack the lift door.

His hands were still shaky, his fingers fumbling, but he cut out the distraction of the Alien and the noisemaker, finding the right signal as-

There was the second noisemaker!

He flipped through the codes as he started decoding the door-

And the first noisemaker just died.

He glanced back just in time to see the darting form of the Alien screech across the upper landing back towards the second noisemaker.

He focused.

no-no-no-no- YES!

The door opened with a soft ‘ring’ and Izuku stepped into the white of the elevator - just as the second noisemaker stopped.

“Fuck.”

Izuku lunged and slammed the button for another floor, just as the sound of heavy chiton hitting the steel echoed.

He turned and looked, seeing the looming shape of the Alien as it crouched on the cleared space before the elevator, and slowly began to rise to its full height-

Izuku didn’t particualry give a fuck.

BANG.

With a snarl, Izuku unloaded his revolver out the open doorway, sparks of each gunshot off the Alien, even as it staggered in surprise.

Izuku slammed the door control, and the Alien tried to lunge, only for the metal gates to slam shut before it could get through.

As the screech and hiss of the Alien rang out, Izuku staggered back and collapsed on the elevator’s wall, reaching up as he felt for damage.

He could feel his teeth through the gash in his cheek.

Fun.

He dug into his bag as the elevator continued its ascent.

By the time he had reached the floor he had chosen, his face was wrapped in loose cloth from the nose down, and he could still feel the sting of the wound sealant that he had poured in his cheek, spitting out any of it that had gotten in his mouth.

He couldn’t really talk right now, but he doubted that would be much of a problem.

As the doors opened, he hefted the maintenance jack over his shoulder and stretched, cracking his spine as he focused.

He idly noted that he could see his bangs in his vision now.

‘Alright you fuckers. Where am I now?’

He stepped out into the open corridor and glanced at the convenient sign above him.

Seegson Communications.

He quirked an eyebrow and stepped through.

‘This might be worth my time…’

---

Now

Momo laced up her running shoes, stomping to make sure they were fitted snugly. The last week had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, devoted to sparring with Jirou, studying in class, and focusing on the weird parting words Izuku had texted her the day after he announced he would be busy until the sports festival.

‘Nothing you build should ever break without your command.’

As she finished getting the last of her outfit together, she glanced up. Most of the girls in her class were still finishing up, and some of them had started stretching.

As she stood, she took in Jirou, who was sitting with her hands clasped, looking remarkably calm.

Soon enough, all the girls started to pace out to join the rest of the class in the waiting room.

As she stepped into the room, following Mina and Uraraka, she saw Izuku in his new outfit for the first time.

His hair was tied back into a bun, loose strands of green hanging loosely around the knotted leather cord that held the hair back. His skin seemed healthier than normal, which Momo realized was a sure sign that Midoriya was actually sleeping for more than an hour.

The sports uniform jacket was hanging loose and unzipped, showing off the tight black shirt, the neckline of which covered his throat almost entirely. His armored red boots were tucked under his pants, the hems rolled up and bound with what looked like electrical tape. His hands were wrapped in red exercise tape, and he was currently testing the fit of a pair of fingerless martial arts gloves.

But across his back, hanging from a loose cord, a sword-like shape was wrapped tightly in more electrical tape.

The others were also dressed and ready.

Aoyama was fiddling with his focusing belt, one she knew he had rebuilt by hand. Unlike his professional one, it was of a lesser quality, partly due to his lack of technical skill. Bakugou also wore armored boots, his in orange and black, and his forearms were wrapped in white tape that reached nearly to his elbow.

As the last of the class gathered, the tension began to rise.

“Bakugou.”

The explosive blond looked up, meeting Todoroki’s eyes with his own.

“I think, objectively, that you are the strongest competitor here.” Bakugou stood, taking in Todoroki face to face as the dichromatic teen made a declaration of war. “As such, I want you to know that I aim to beat you. Fair and square.”

“Heh, didn’t we already do this fight? I won, last time I checked.” Bakugou gave a scoff and crossed his arms. “Besides, I’m telling you right now not to underestimate anyone here. For any reason. You’re opening your dumb ass up for a rude awakening.”

Most didn’t notice, but Bakugou’s eyes darted to the quiet form of Izuku as he sat with his arms on his knees, watching the conversation with a glint in his eyes.

“That goes for all of us! Don’t fucking underestimate anyone.”

Momo and Iida glanced at each other before Momo spoke up.

“I know that we’re going out to compete against each other, but I want to wish you all luck! And, much like Bakugou-san said, be careful!”

As Todoroki gave a dismissive glance and began to walk towards the door, Izuku slowly breathed out.

"That was so Manly!" Kirishima's words helped break the tension, most of the class slowly falling into small conversations to pass the last few minutes.

Momo gave one last glance around the room, thankful for Kirishima's unwitting help, before pausing.

Jirou was staring at Izuku, her hand rapping against her crossed arm.

Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap.

It was an oddly fast rhythm.

She was about to ask about it when the room’s intercom rang out.

“Attention all First Year Classes, please line up in class order for the opening ceremony!”

She glanced back to see Jirou still looking at Izuku as the teen walked away, slowly buttoning up his uniform jacket as he went. As she stood and started to walk behind them, a thought back once more.

‘What does it mean, not to break?’

---

Kamino Ward

Kurogiri glanced up as his ward stepped out into the bar.

Long, shaggy white hair had been cut, the side shaved nearly bare. Partly because it had been practical, a way to keep his hair from falling into his untended wounds. But now the mess of pale blue hair was merely thrown to the far side, showing the angry red lines of healing flesh.

His left eye stared out, while his right socket was concealed by a long cloth band.

“Are you feeling well today, Shigaraki Tomura?”

“...The sports festival begins today.”

Kurogiri nodded slowly.

“Play it. I want to watch it… and water, please.”

As Kurogiri passed the teen the tv remote, Tomura’s remaining red eye narrowed at the screen, already flipping through channels.

“Hmmm…”

He reached up and scratched at his cheek, feeling the raised veins under the edge of his eyepatch.

‘I’ve seen you before, Izuku Midoriya. How have you changed… What do you hold precious?’

As he found the right channel, he set the remote aside, reaching out to sip from the glass of ice water now set before him.

‘Show me… what you want me to kill.’

Chapter 29: Time Trial

Summary:

THE SPORTS FESTIVAL BEGINS!

The U.A. sports festival is one of, if not the de facto largest televised competitions in Japan. They outranked the Olympics, most of the world sporting championships, and every Esports event currently on the market. Some years the viewership shifted, but the sports festival remained king among competitions.

And the crowd who showed up proved it.

The U.A. stadium was packed, seats sold out nearly half a year in advance were being filled with people of every race, creed, quirk, and gender. In the upper levels, food carts were rushing to make orders to match demand, while in the seats people shoved and shifted, hoping to see the next generation of heroes.

Meanwhile, in the viewers’ boxes above them, staring down with eager eyes and careful judgment, the Heroes who could take the day off were present, watching through screens and windows as the students began to assemble.

They were here to look for potential. Students who they felt they could assist, could train and pass on their own hard-earned skills to.

All Might stood with his quirk deactivated in a private box, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the events far below.

He had been considering using this very event, not even a year before, to find his successor.

Now, he would watch with pride as his students competed for the crown.

In his soul, One For All was already fading, passed on to another. Someone so close he considered her to be family, and learning how to safely channel the quirk he had passed her.

Putting those thoughts away, All Might let a grin form, as Present Mic began his introductions.

“Starting us off! The valiant students who fought off a horde of villains not even a month ago, Class 1-A! And behind them, their counterparts and rivals, Class 1-B!”

Izuku stepped out of the opening with a lidded expression, feeling the thrum of tension in the air even as he paced with the rest of his class lining up in the field before the podium. He let his hand slowly tense and flex, the weight of his gloves were comforting, the tension of the tape around his fingers a grounding sensation. The sparring blade he had made was hanging across his back, and his boots hit the ground with a silent, but solid, step.

But he could also feel the slowly growing ire of the classes behind him, glancing back over his shoulder to take in the tense glances and body language of all the students who were looking after them.

Hunters and Scavengers, aiming to take the top spot on the food chain.

Dismissing them as an immediate threat, he glanced back up, Present Mic finishing his role call of the other classes.

For a moment, the students were just standing, assembling into place, with the roar of the crowd above calling out.

Izuku began to tune it out, letting the thrum of combat begin to build, lips twitching ever so slightly.

From the podium, Midnight appeared, whip in hand and playing for the camera and the crowd. “And now! The Student Pledge! Represented by the highest ranking student in the Heroics exam, Katsuki Bakugou!”

A variety of murmurs came from the students around them, Izuku picking through them, and dismissing them as inconsequential.

Instead, he focused on the form of Kacchan, watching as he strode forwards with a purpose, taking the stairs to the podium.

A tilt of his head, and Izuku could almost smile.

‘Hmmm… It seems you’ve grown stronger.’

To Izuku’s senses, he could almost see it… the shift and wreathed intent.

‘You have something to say….’

---

Bakugou stopped at the microphone, arms crossed as he shifted. He had considered writing a speech, but that had never been his style. Instead, he dug deep, and spoke his thoughts.

“We’ve gathered here, all of us… to prove our worth. We came to prove we were not weak. That we are ready to take the next steps of our journey. Some of us come from families of heroes, trained from childhood to take the mantle. Some of us are here to find purpose, fighting hard and long to reach this field. And some of us are here to heal and grow from our pasts.”

He resisted the urge to glance at Deku.

“No matter where we come from, or what course we are in. We’re here to climb higher. To do as we, the students of U.A., do best.”

He leaned in, letting a smirk that would have once been cruel slip to his lips.

“WE GO BEYOND! PLUS ULTRA!”

He leaned back, and his smile softened to something satisfied as behind him, the shout of his class roared with him.

““PLUS ULTRA!””

As he turned back, looking down at the rest of the classes, he saw some looks of surprise. Questioning glances and confused expressions. Most of 1-A seemed almost proud.

And among them, Izuku had cracked a smile and gave a nod and a soft statement.

Even from here, he could nearly hear the words on the wind, Izuku’s voice in his head as he read the teens lips.

“Good speech.”

Bakugou let his smile fade.

The time for speeches was over, and as he set his stance, and the rest of the classes gathered once more, Midnight took back the stage.

Behind her, a massive lottery wheel rose from the ground.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! For our first obstacle!” The wheel began to spin, before she slammed the level on the side, the wheel scrolling to a stop. “THE OBSTACLE RACE!”

---

Then

Izuku moved slowly, glancing around corners as he moved through the halls. A few survivors had moved through a corridor, locking their path after them, so Izuku was now stuck looking for another way into the communications center. He paused, glancing at the arrows on the wall.

“Synthetic storage… Power relays… Communications center, there.”

He glanced at the arrow, wishing he had the map for this area of the station. While his larger map had most areas marked with what they held, it didn’t show the intricacies of the vents or corridors.

He glanced around once more, mentally mapping what direction each thing was pointing to, before he took off, moving at a slow jog as he tried to focus on his footsteps.

‘How do I move more quietly? If every step I take makes noise, I'm fucked.’

He slowed as he reached the next door, tapping the controls, the door sliding up-

“Do You Require Assistance?”

Izuku nearly had a heart attack, lunging back as his hand reared back with the maintenance jack.

Before him was the most surreal thing he could think of. A man features thick and claylike, eyes a pale glowing white, and wearing a jumpsuit.

“Sir, Do You Require Assistance?”

The voice was recorded, clearly mechanical, but Izuku slowly adjusted his stance. It hadn’t moved at him yet, but he was really not liking the way it kept watching him. He tried to speak, wincing as his cheek ached with the motion, the taste of blood leaking into his mouth once more.

“I’m looking for- shit- the Communications Center?”

“Processing…. Communications Is Currently On Lockdown. You, Izuku Midoriya, Engineer 3rd Class, Do Not Have The Credentials To Access It Right Now.”

“Uh… Okay.” he glanced back, barely making out the signs he had passed not five minutes ago,

“What about Power Relays. Do I have access to Power Relays?”

The robot, droid, whatever it was, paused. “Engineers 3rd Class: Access Level M-1… Power Relays Are Permitted. Access Granted. Please Avoid The Elevator To Communications.”

“Of course. I’ll stay where I have access.” Izuku nodded, his bandaged face hiding his bald-faced lie. He slowly started walking, eyes not leaving the robot even as he passed by him, the artificial figure slowly stepping around to keep track of the teen.

‘They don’t want me in communications… Which means it's probably where I have to go. Fuck.’

He glanced away from the robot, eyes taking in the corridor.

‘Now… How the fuck do I get past them?’

---

Now

Through the exit, and then a half-circle around the stadium, on the UA side of the area. Izuku hadn’t really seen anything there the last few days, just a narrow parkway of sorts between the stadium and the nearby training grounds, but with Cementoss on the staff, there was no question that had changed.

Izuku gave a glance at the narrow hallway. Tall as it was, it was narrow, maybe only three people wide if they walked shoulder to shoulder. The crush to get through would be the first real obstacle. Izuku gave a soft hum, before shifting and tightening the band holding the stave to his back. A slow stretch let him loosen up his shoulders, and he waited for the start.

He had found a spot near the center of the crowd, avoiding the pre game jostling he could see nearer the front, where Todoroki and Bakugou were facing off side by side.

He didn’t need that stress.

Besides, he wanted to be able to see what the front runners were doing.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! ARE YOU READY!?”

The crowd roared.

“ON YOUR MARK!”

Izuku watched as everyone tensed, many of the less combat-oriented students taking runners’ stances, some of them hopping in place.

“GET SET!”

The tension built, and Izuku slid one foot forwards, slowly bending and tensing as he took aim.

“GO!”

The rush of the crowd was instant.

From the front, the flash of an explosion rang out, Izuku’s eyes already taking sight as Bakugou rocketed forwards, matched by the blurs of colors that Izuku could parse.

Uraraka, nearly skipping like a stone as she lunged for the entrance.

Iida, engines flaring as he rocketed forward.

Tsuyu as she lept, and Ashido as she slid.

Directly behind them, the rest of the class was lost in the mayhem, already crowding to try and get through the narrow entrance.

Izuku was already planning ahead. He had taken a second, just enough time for the people in his immediate front to pull ahead, leaving a short, narrow, gap.

His shoes gripped the packed dirt as he started to move. Not the smooth economic run of a marathon runner, but the reckless sprint of a desperate man, of someone heading for a leap.

The mass of people began to crowd, shoving and pushing for a position as they hit the gap, the forerunners barely beating the crash.

Izuku felt it, the instinctive timing of his steps coming into place as the people ahead hit the rush, slamming into the mess. The shouts and screams as the floor became an ice trap for anyone who was touching it.

Izuku, on the other hand, rose.

His final step on the ground was a slam with his entire body's force, sending him high with almost all his forward momentum preserved, the ice sliding past him even as he moved out of its reach.

He cleared the people below him with no issue, and then he was in the gap, where his boots slammed into the walls like hammers in a forge, the ringing sound of armored heels bounding off of cement echoing like gunshots.

His forward momentum was increased, each rebound sending him rocketing forwards faster and faster, his gloved hands slapping off the wall to direct his rapid skips.

He caught flashes of moments as he glanced down. The frozen masses of students who were trying to break free, the cracks around Jirou as her quirk shattered the ground, and the surprised glance of a pair of Shouji’s eyes, having seen the movement.

By the time they could register him passing by, he was at the far end of the hall, one last kick off sending him soaring sharply towards the ground, where he hit the ground with grace, not even halting his movements as he began to run.

His eyes roved ahead, and his vision narrowed.

A cement playground of twisting pillars and corridors. A vertical maze.

And among it, Izuku could see the swarms of robots from the original entrance exam.

He heard the distant call of Present Mic, echo through the area.

“WELCOME TO THE FIRST OBSTACLE: THE MECHANICAL MAZE!”

As the front runners, Izuku now on their tail, hit the first chunks of twisted geometry, the sound of gunfire rang out, the robots opening fire on anyone who stepped inside their area.

Izuku didn’t break pace, shifting as he entered the maze, steps leading him up the curve of a wall before he mantled over, landing on a small perch, his eyes darting from threat to threat.

‘There's no real reason to fight these, they’re only a distraction.’

A step back for balance and he took off once more, leaping from foothold to foothold across the upper levels of the maze, the sound of a burst of rubber bullets hitting the stonework behind him echoing even as he moved out of sight.

‘Besides, they’re slow to target. I have plenty of time to pass through here.’

He glanced up, the sound of ice forming the first sign as a massive ice spire slammed through the center of the maze, forming a ramp straight up and over the maze.

Izuku dismissed Todoroki’s path with a roll of his eyes.

‘Moron, it's not going to be that easy.’

He was proven correct, not even five seconds later, as a triad of Zero-Pointers burst from cement towers at the end of the maze, one of them immediately charging the ice spire, sending clouds of dust over the maze from the impact.

Izuku cursed at that, skipping off a ledge to land on the back of a 3-Pointer, the robot shuddering to a stop as its sensors went haywire at its sudden passenger.

The clawed fingers of his glove snagged the underside of its head almost absently, before a twitch of motion tore the mechanical connection around 180 degrees, snapping the bots computer from its body.

Izuku stepped forwards and took off, now moving lower in the maze, avoiding the clear lines of sight as he darted through the maze.

It was only a minute or two later that he climbed and perched on the last wall of the maze, and had to stop and look up… and up… eyes meeting the red glowing lenses of the titan before him, which seemed to glow brighter with a mechanical rage.

“Well shit. I wasn’t expecting you to carry a grudge.”

The Zero-pointer brought its fist down In a sweeping crash, aiming to smash the teen off the wall and back into the maze.

---

Then

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief, the opening to the vents irising closed behind him as he pulled himself through the small space, eyes adjusting to the dark as he slowed and shifted his way through the area.

Left… straight…. There! That vent goes up right next to the elevator to communications… and across from it is a-

“Access To The Elevator Is Restricted.”

Izuku froze, but the voice hadn’t been from behind him, or in the vents… but from the hall ahead?

“Let me pass, It’s Hughes, don’t you recognize me?”

‘Shit, is someone else heading to the Communications Center as well?’

Izuku started moving through the vents again, focusing on staying quiet as he moved up to a grate looking out into the hallway to the elevator.

“Listen to me! We’ve got to reestablish long-range communications!”

“You Are Becoming Hysterical.”

As Izuku reached the vents, he could see the man, dressed up in a maintenance uniform similar to Izuku’s as a robot moved up close to him, reaching out to grab the man's arm,

“Get back, I swear to god-!”

The robot lunged, almost clumsily. “Tut. Tut.”

The man, Hughes, fired his handgun, the robot staggering for barely a second, before reaching out and shoving the man against the wall.

“Let's Resolve This Amicably.”

“No, Hold on-” Hughes tried to stand up, before the robot stepped closer, gripping the side of the man's head, before shoving it into the support strut.

Thud.

And again.

THUD.

And again.

THUD.

And again.

THUN-K

With a sound like a crushed watermelon, the man’s head caved in, red blood and thick brain matter splattering across both the wall, and dripping to the floor.

With an almost casual air, the robot took a step back, arms at its side, as it looked down at the man.

“Good Day.”

Izuku watched it begin to walk back down the hall, clearly resuming a patrol, and cursed.

‘Fuck. Did it ignore the bullet? Is anything on this godforsaken station not bulletproof?’

Izuku waited, watching as the robot reached the edge of the short corridor it was patrolling, before pacing back the other way.

He cursed to himself, shifting to try and get a better glimpse of the hallway, before pausing.

Security Surveillance

Izuku blinked, glanced at the patrolling robot, and then back at the sign pointing to the door next to the dead guy.

Well. At least this Hughes wasn’t in a phone booth, that would just be excessive.

Turning, Izuku followed along with the vent to the opening into the hall.

If he could just time this right…

---

Now

The cloud of dust from the Zero-Pointers strike floated through the air, the robot dragging its hand back and out of the dust and smoke, red lenses flashing as it hunted through the rubble. Its programming had suggested that the hit would send the teen classified “Alpha Threat” back into the maze of walls.

The Zero-Pointer, which was actually registered under the internal designation of Executor-2, pinged the network that connected all 112 currently active ‘Villain Emulation Bots’, or VEB’s for short.

//??Query: Location of Alpha Threat

The string of negative confirmations rang out from the bots, and Executor-2 shifted, sensors sweeping as it looked across the area, trying to track the distinctive marking of the “Alpha Threat”.

The robot paused as the audio sensors picked up a comment.

“You know, Power Loader-sensei really should close out his blueprints when students are in the Labs.”

//voice recognition: Processing.

//Voice recognized: “Alpha Threat” I. Midoriya

Executor-2 began to turn when sensors on its shoulder began to fire off.

//Unauthorized maintenance access

As Executor-2 began to shift, it swung its arm up, aiming to clear off its shoulder.

“Huh. That works.”

As its fist began to swing up and around, Executor-2 registered a power spike to its arms’ motors, the fist suddenly swinging far faster as the servos were overcharged, and the robot registered a sharp drop in its core power output, safeties and warnings blaring through its systems.

With the sound of metal tearing, the arm began to rip free of its socket, having overshot its effective durability.

As Executor-2 was forced to stagger, twisting from the off-balance force, it could turn, head trying to track the location of “Alpha Threat”.

As it turned, the arm finally came loose from its socket, going flying across the open field behind it.

As it scanned its shoulder, sensors frantically screening anything they could target, a ping came in from the network.

//Location: “Alpha Threat”

As the message decoded, the robot began to twist, sensors scanning back and across the open field.

Where the “Alpha Threat” was standing, flexing his hand, as he rose from a crouch on the dismembered limb of Executor-2, sparks still leaping from the wires trailing from it.

As the robot began to even try to process what was going on, the teen leapt from his impromptu ride, and jogged towards the next obstacle.

//Target “Alpha Threat” has left combat, reassess and change target.

As Executor-2 turned back to the maze, he received a video file from one of the various Venator class VEB’s

In it, it showed the sight of the teen twisting into a roll, hand clasping in the joint at the wrist of the arm even as it went flying, bracing and using the arm as a sled to crash and slide across the field.

Executor-2 was unsure how to classify that.

As it turned back, it received another alert, this time from the other two of the Executors.

Executor-1 was frozen in a glacier.

But Executor-3 was suffering from a catastrophic failure, an explosive had breached its chest, and sent it staggering. The network identified that it was the work of an “M. Yaoyorozu.”

---

Then

Izuku looked up, seeing the form of the droid that killed Hughes as he crouched behind the security terminal. The robot had been easy enough to get by, but the camera at the elevator up had a massive fucking sensor on it, and he didn’t have an easy way past that.

He tapped through the console, eyes darting from it to the door whenever the robot wandered back on its patrol of the hallway. The computers for this simulation were… really simplistic. Most of the video feeds seemed to be stored on tape, which made the act of rewinding back through hours of footage a bitch and a half. If he had a timestamp to jump to it would be easier, but he had no idea exactly when he needed to watch the feeds.

It had been nearly twenty minutes already, and the video he was trying to watch, which was labeled “Medical 110” was still showing shoved aside and ruined furniture. He saw a shift and slowed his rewind. Another moment with the alien moving through the hallway, great.

He stared back down and tapped the side of the computer, waiting for the video to get to something-

Hello.

In rewind, the mess of the medical wing began to revert, bloodstains being returned to doctors fleeing from the alien, beds getting shoved back into place, doors opening.

He waited, still rewinding until the entire hall once more looked back to a professional state and stopped.

‘7 days and 3 hours ago...’

Izuku did the math. He had been awake and active on the station for almost ten hours himself.

The start of this was out of his reach, and so his objective was going to be something else.

Great.

He looked back down and hit play, only to jump as the audio played.

“-Shuttle 3 coming in for emergency medical care with the captain of the USCSS Anesidora. Be warned, full quarantine measures are needed.”

“Fuck.” Izuku tapped the mute button, but it was too late.

With a hiss, the door out to the hallway opened.

“You Really Shouldn't Be Here.”

Izuku stood up, hand coming down to grab the jack from where he had set it on the counter.

“I really don’t care.”

As the robot began to walk with perfect posture and smooth steps, Izuku let himself fall into a crouch. He was not gonna let this fucking droid get the best of him. Not after the last few months he’s had.

With a muffled scream of rage, Izuku charged, clearly disrupting the droid's perfect walk, before the hammer head of the jack came up and around, smashing into the robot's arm as it raised the limb to block.

There was a sickening snap, the limp now hanging loose, white fluid leaking from the ruptured skin, even as the droid’s other arm came up and latched on to Izuku’s neck, lifting the teen with unnatural ease.

“Are You Quite Finished?:

Izuku cursed and gasped, before twisting, his face mask of bandages ripping and tearing under the robot's grip as his foot lashed out, boot slamming into the robot's face with a crunch of synthetic tissue as Izuku dropped to the ground.

He rolled, scrambling as he tried to get up and fight-, the slam of a foot to his side, and the sickening crack of his ribs, filled his mind with pain. The impact had flipped him, letting him look up to see the now red eyes of the droid as it looked down, before raising its leg once more.

“Tut, Tut.”

Izuku’s hand came to rest around the familiar grip even as the boot came down.

He screamed, his ribs were broken, he could tell by the feeling of a chunk of bone ripping through his torso.

As he screamed in pain and rage, he swung out, and the hammer of his jack crunched into the knee of the synthetic, the robot losing its balance and collapsing, across Izuku.

As it reached up, it's one still-working hand wrapping his now bare throat, it began to squeeze, adjusting till it was knelt on his stomach.

As Izuku felt his windpipe crush and pain race through him, he gave a mental snarl of hate, and the jack came back around, smashing into the robot's face.

It didn’t stop strangling him.

He swung again.

The angle was awkward, the force weaker than it should be, he was all but wearing that hammerhead as brass knuckles, and white blood was splattered across his chest with every smash.

But as his vision started turning black, the robot just kept squeezing.

Izuku pulled back once more, and swung as hard as he could, aiming for the arm this time.

The crack of the arm breaking was drowned out as Izuku took a gasping breath, the droid now writhing as it tried to test and move its systems in order to continue its attacks.

Izuku strained, and shoved it off him, rolling free and to his knee.

The droid thrashed harder, and Izuku saw red.

He hefted up the jack, spit out blood and that pasty white fluid, and stepped forward to finish the job.

---

Now

Iida swerved, leaping past the last of the debris from the maze. His lack of verticality had cost him, although the maze itself hadn’t been too hard to navigate. He glanced around, seeing that one Zero-Pointer had been encased in a glacier, and another maimed. The third was farther to the left and smoking, collapsed far away from Iida’s exit. The ground ahead was flat and clear, the perfect place to make up lost ground. Revving his engines, he moved into a distance eating lope, each augmented step sending him farther and faster, without the same overheating and stress of his Reciprico Burst. He could see the distant flashes of Bakugou’s blasts farther ahead, and the repeated signs of ice spikes told of Todoroki’s passing.

As he moved ahead, he frowned. He could hear a distant shifting, and as he rounded the bend to the next section of the race, he could see it. The ground ahead sloped down, before ending at the base of a series of cliffs, each of which moved. Some slide from side to side, others were pulled back into the wall, and then out again, some even twisted, clanking and moving.

Above the sloped area, a spiderweb shaped net of robe hung, leading down to just above the middle of the cliffs. It was both a safety measure and a path higher.

As Iida grew closer, he could see nearly twenty of his classmates were already on various sections of the rope or cliff face. He arrived just in time to see Todoroki pass over the upper ledge on a pillar of rising ice, matched by a series of blasts that were clearly Bakugou.

Cursing, Iida ran in.

While he had assumed a race would provide him with a boost, the sheer verticality had been unexpected.

His eyes traced for a path up the shifting cliff face, before pausing. There, leaping up with an almost enviable grace, was the slender frame of Midoriya, his sword still slung across his back.

‘How is he already here? He must have moved through the maze without even stopping!’

Centering his focus, Iida moved to the cliff, leaping up to his first ledge, and then higher, mantleing over each step with a grunt of exertion and occasional boosts from his legs to get enough speed.

He kept noticing people passing him by.

Tsuyu, who’s quirk let her clear layers of the cliff in single bounds.

Sero, who merely rappeled up.

A blonde and a teen with auburn hair who seemed to run across air.

As Iida leapt and clambered over the last ledge, he paused to catch his breath and look ahead, breathing heavily.

What next?

---

Then

Izuku stood, arms still splattered with the white blood of the robot, which was apparently called a Synth, or ‘Working Joe’. Heedless of the splatters, he tapped on the console, scrolling between each feed the system had access to. He didn’t have the individual rooms of the medical wing, apparently due to privacy concerns, but he had the three major hallways.

And he was piecing together a really unsettling chain of events.

A little over six days ago, according to the system, a medical emergency was brought to the station. A shuttle from the medical wing had gone out to a ship, logged as the USCSS Anesidora, came back with two people, the captain and her second. The captain was logged as unconscious and suffering from an unknown medical condition. She had been immediately taken to the quarantine wing of the medical bay, and doctors streamed in and out of that room for several hours.

Then the lights dimmed, likely for a night cycle, and the hall was nearly empty.

Until several hours later, where the camera could see a nurse screaming at the door to the quarantine and things went crazy. The door opened, and Izuku had paused it just past there.

Something small had leapt out past the nurse, causing her to freak out, before it had taken off for the vents.

Izuku stared at the screen, seeing the small form.

‘It grew… from that… into the monster. The Alien… in what, a day to a week?’

He changed the speed, slowing the footage, as he played the video. While doctors went in and out, there was no sign of the woman who had been taken in. The closest Izuku found was a recording of the husband going apeshit a hallway a few doors before the quarantine, being held down by several doctors until security showed up.

He sighed and started skipping time again. He skipped through the Alien showing up and tearing through the various doctors, having seen it already. As he jumped from scene to scene he tried to see what the alien was reacting to-

Wait, what was that?

Izuku backed up and slowed down.

A doctor had been knocked out, as shown by the lack of blood spilling around him… and the alien wasn’t eating it… but instead was dragging the doctor off into the vents.

“What the hell… why would the alien need living people?”

---

Now

Todoroki panted harshly as he ran, feeling the growing sensation of numbing cold as he skated forwards, racing against the form of Bakugou, both of them in an all out sprint through the last obstacle. Around them, rising up from the ground, were a mix of narrow pillars of concrete, each with long padded bars sticking out from the center. They moved erratically, shifting and twisting at odd patterns, while around them, the ground was littered with what seemed to be smoke bombs, which would throw off and blind the competitors.

Todoroki was forced to build ice bridges above this, having to use his quirk like this for the third time in a row was exhausting him, and the numbing cold was affecting his speed.

Meanwhile, he could barely see Bakugou flash and leap from pillar to pillar, short explosions sending his leaps farther and farther.

He could also hear the distant shouts and screams of surprises as more of the explosives went off behind him, people being knocked off balance by the pillars before triggering the smoke bombs, which would hide more pillars, which would hit more people, which would repeat the cycle all over again.

Thankfully, Shoto could see the end, the ice cutting out as soon as he could, leaping from his bridge and sending a blast of his quirk back, cracking the surface before he left it.

Hitting the ground, he went into a familiar shoulder roll, one that had been trained into him for years, and then pushing off, running at a full sprint despite the ache of cold, the cloudiness of his quirk across his mind.

To his side, he could see Bakugou also hit the ground staggering before also taking to a sprint.

Both of them were nearly neck and neck, quirks too strained for a last push if they wanted to use them in the next event.

Feet pounding the packed dirt, they closed on the narrow hallway that would lead back into the main stadium, both of them didn’t dare to attack the other, not with the risk of missing. Instead, they both dug deep for their stamina, pushing past the strain as they focused only on the end of the race.

With a last ditch effort, Bakugou fired a single blast, less than a meter from the finish line.

Out of the smoke, both teens passed through the arch at the end of the course, splitting apart to nearly collapse from the strain.

“WHAT A FINISH FOLKS! NECK AND NECK SHOTO TODOROKI AND KATSUKI BAKUGOU HAVE MADE IT TO THE END. WE”VE GOTTA WATCH THAT REPLAY, IN SLOW MOTION!”

Pushing up, Todoroki glanced at the large screens showing the two of them crossing the finish line.

And, the image of Bakugou passing the entrance by a fraction of a second faster.

Deep in his gut, shame and pride boiled in a toxic mixture. He couldn’t hear Present Mic anymore, just the deep seated sense of bitter failure.

He glanced up, planning to make a second declaration of intent, to see how Bakugou was doing.

But Bakugou wasn’t looking at him, no, his eyes were locked on one of the many screens showing the progress of the rest of the first years.

It took a moment for Shoto to make out the same thing.

Midoriya Izuku was casually walking through the last few sections of the final obstacle, shifting and swaying past the fast moving bars as if they weren’t even a threat, and stepping past land mines absently.

He was even glancing around and watching the others, his eyes tracking as several other competitors passed him, his ‘casual’ pace barely drawing attention from Present Mic’s announcements despite the skill it showed.

By the time Izuku Midoriya passed through the entrance, taking 9th place, Todoroki had almost managed to get a grip on his poisonous emotions, focusing them now on the insult in how Midoriya was acting. He felt heat surging through him as he drew on his father's quirk, warming up from his sprint to ready for the next round.

‘He’s making a mockery of this… of everyone… how does no one see it?’

---

Then

Izuku crossed his arms, ignoring the now dull ache of his jaw and throat. He hadn’t managed to recover his bandages, but scrounging through the security office had found him a pack of the medical sealant, and a pack of painkillers. His jacket was still bloodstained, and twisting his torso just… hurt. He had also sealed up his ribs, and wrapped them the best he could, following the instruction on a package in the medical kit.

With the robot torn to shreds, he had also had a chance to search the body of M. Hughes, finding a box of ammo in his pocket, along with his security badge. A check had confirmed he had higher access, and the badge was added to the one he had already, both hanging from his neck and under his shirt and jacket.

Reloading his handgun, as well as the one dropped by Hughes, had been useful, both of them now rested on his hip, a second belt holster also stripped from the dead maintenance officer.

The jack was once more hanging off his back, and he stretched, trying to clear the faint edge of exhaustion from his thoughts. He had been awake nearly 11 hours straight now. And it was getting to him.

Walking up to the elevator, he tapped the call button, ignoring how the security camera had started ringing, focused on him.

He hadn’t found a way to turn it off, not yet anyway.

As the elevator arrived, he stepped inside, and tapped the button for the Seegson Communication Center.

‘Right… let's see what other pieces of the puzzle I can find.’

He felt the elevator slow, coming to a stop at the top floor, and with a hiss, the door opened to reveal a long hallway leading up to a large windowed area.

Izuku paced along the path, glancing to see a closed door and a vent in easy reach, before stepping out onto a catwalk surrounding a series of computer banks.

And as he stepped out, he instantly stopped and stepped back.

Cause there were no less than four fucking Synths in the room.

‘Oh, mother-FUCKER.’

Chapter 30: Team Deathmatch

Izuku sipped from a bottle of water as the last of the runners came trickling in.

He had already picked out most of 1A, and 1B, in the crowd. In particular, Jirou and Yaoyorozu had come in 17th and 18th, while Koda had trailed behind with a respectable 31st. Izuku’s eyes trailed over the crowd, categorizing quirks and marking down competitors, before his gaze slowed, narrowing slightly.

The purple haired teen from the hallway.

Izuku drained the last of his water, calmly closed it up and tossed away the bottle.

He paused, however, when he felt the faint air of focus that… almost felt like killing intent.

Tilting his head, Izuku glanced up, calmly meeting the dual-colored gaze of Todoroki Shouto. For a second, he could even hear the moment they had first spoken.

“Problem?” “No.”

Keeping his eyes locked, Izuku adjusted and tightened his red arm wraps and black gloves once more, purposely giving just enough of a twitch to his lips to emulate a smirk.

He saw the other teen’s eyes narrow, but the more interesting effect was the slight embers that gleamed off his skin.

‘Someone else might have missed that… but you’re warming back up…’

With a dismissive motion, Izuku turned away, and walked off, heading for Jirou and Yaoyorozu. As he got closer, he wondered,

‘Where did Yaoyorozu’s outer shirt go?’

---

Then

Crawling through vents was hard.

Crawling through vents, silently, while nursing a shattered rib and other various wounds? A fucking nightmare.

Izuku breathed slowly, a strip of cloth in his mouth keeping him from biting down hard enough to crack a tooth.

The Synths were still on patrol in the communications hub, but Izuku had been more than happy to find out they weren’t flexible enough to enter the vents with some… minor experimentation.

Breathing a sharp gasp out through his nose at the pain, he counted.

30… 29… 28….

Pushing past the pain and the slowly growing tacky feeling of blood soaking through his bandages, he crawled through the vents to his planned exit. It led out to the far side of the communication area, where the door leading out to another section sat.

7… 6... 5…

Reaching the exit, Izuku took a deep breath, tearing up as the motion stretched and shifted the ribs, before reaching up and grabbing the edges of the exit.

2… 1…

Izuku paused, wondering if he had fucked up or not-

WHHHHHHEEEEEE

WHHHHHEEEEEEE

WHHHHHEEEEEEE

‘Nope! There's the noisemaker.’

Izuku tapped the release, the metal circle irising open, and showing a nearly clear shot for the side door. Pulling up and out, he risked a glance to confirm all the Synths were looking the other way before staggering to his feet and trying to quietly limp along the hallway.

He got about halfway before the voice of a Synth rang out, and it stepped around the corner in front of him, eyes red.

"This Really Won't Do."

Izuku felt the rush of panic, and did the only thing he really could.

He drew the revolver and unloaded, aiming for the head.

BANG!

A stagger, the shift of balance.

BANG!

The robot tried to shift, but the eye and side of its head blew open, sending it staggering back another step.

BANG BANG BANG

Izuku missed one of the shots, just not used to the recoil of the revolver, but the other two caught it in the throat and jaw, the close range making it oh so hard to miss.

BANG.

The center of the Synth’s head blew out, and the robot staggered and fell backwards, collapsing in a growing pool of white fluid...

Izuku breathed deep, before he heard the overlapping voices of the other four Synths.

“You Shouldn’t Have Done That,”

Izuku spun, eyes wide as he pulled the trigge-

Click.

And the revolver let out a dejected click.

The Working Joes had already started marching, eyes red as they stared at him.

Izuku had no choice.

He turned and ran.

If he could find… a door he could lock. Or something. A vent? A place to hide?

He coughed as the run jostled his ribs.

He ignored the taste of blood in his mouth.

Behind him, the Synths marched after him.

---

Now

Monoma stretched out, eyes drifting across the gathered students of 1A who had arrayed across them. Already, part one of his class’s plan had worked out to their favor. The hectic race had given him plenty of time and information to work out who were the vulnerable links in the ‘Prestigious’ Class 1A. While most of the prideful bastards had pushed to be first, he and his class had trailed behind, watching and waiting.

Monoma glanced up as Midnight’s announcements rang out.

“WITH THAT, THE OBSTACLE RACE IS OVER!” The crowd screamed, cheering for the students, even as the list of the top 48 students filled in behind her on the screen.

Monoma’s eyes tracked through, finding his name at 21, right behind Kendou at 20.

“HOWEVER, THE NEXT GAME’S ALREADY ON ITS WAY!”

Once more, the roulette wheel began to spin.

Monoma tensed slightly, eyes locked on the wheel.

He knew from researching that the second event was usually team-based, with a point or objective-based system...

“KING OF THE HILL!”

The ground began to shift, and where the students once stood, the concrete platforms surged, the students being moved up and away. Where they once stood, the ground was unfolding to reveal a deep cavern that had been underneath them.

Monoma crouched, staring down, as the grinding of the concrete stopped, leaving all the 42 students who were moving on placed around the concret outer ring of the pit.

And then, from the pit a cathedral began to rise.

Stairs, ornate arches, ledges and plazas and switchback paths. And at the top, supported by four gates, was a ring that circled a large stone throne. It looked almost like someone had poured gothic architecture over a dozen layer tall wedding cake.

“The rules are simple! Scattered across the hill are various control points, each with their own value. The points are added every 5 seconds, and the value is split between every team on that point if it's contested! At the end of Fifteen minutes, the 16 players with the highest value will move on to the next round! Players must form teams of at least two to four.”

Monoma was already picking out his team, eyes catching on the members of his class he wanted.

“But there is a way to win even without a high score! At the very top of the hill is a throne. The person who’s sitting in the throne uncontested at the very end of the event automatically moves onto the next round… and seeing as Bakugou Katsuki is the winner of the first round, his team gets to start guarding the throne!”

Monoma’s eyes glinted with barely repressed glee. An automatic pass? Yes please.

“Now, you all have 15 minutes to form your teams, before the second event begins!”

1B quickly grouped up, huddling as they discussed tactics.

Monoma laid out his plan, eyes glinting evilly as the rest of his class leaned in. “None of us should go for the throne until we have enough points to take the top slots regardless of it. We move up, hit and hold the higher point platforms, and work together. If we can keep the highest value spots for us, we can edge out the 1A bastards.”

Setsuna frowned at that. “We can’t keep the entire top, we’d spread too thin… Teams of four should take and hold sections next to each other, the less we have to deal with infighting, the better our coverage will be.”

Kendou nodded along, biting her thumb as she looked up at the hill. “I think we should stay on the side, keep a clear shot up to the top, but not rush them just yet.”

“Agreed.” Juzo was tapping his fingers on his arm, eyes narrowed as he inspected the hill himself, eyeing the structures he could manipulate. “There? Look at that larger platform near the top. We take that, we control the hillside below it.

As the class began to agree, they split up, five groups of four members forming as they began to assess the fastest ways up the hill.

---

Most of the teams, in fact, had chosen to go as groups of four… with only a few exceptions.

Among them, Izuku and Koda signed to each other casually, hands half-hidden as they hashed out a simple plan, a hawk resting on the taller teen’s shoulder.

Yaoyorozu, Jirou, and Shouji had teamed up with a pink-haired inventor, who Izuku pointed their way.

Bakugou, Ashido, Kirishima, and Sero had decided to hold the Summit of the Hill, and the blonde was busy explaining the tactics he had in mind.

Todoroki was quiet with only two members on his team, Iida and Kaminari.

As the fifteen minutes began to count down, the teams split apart with only Bakuogou’s team moving onto the map itself, making for the throne and arena that surrounded it.

As the clock hit the 10 second mark, everyone began to tense, gathering up and eyeing the Hill.

“5”

Todoroki flexed his fingers, his eyes locking on the perched form of Bakugou who now stood on the back of the throne.

”4”

Jirou ran her thumb across the hilt of the sword Momo had made for her, glancing up at the Hill as she slid her jacks under her shirt.

”3”

Monoma checked the hair of his teammates that was woven around his left hand fingers. The grey of Tetsutetsu’s, the black of Kodai’s, and the brown of Tsuburaba’s.

”2”

Shinsou leaned back, his ‘minion’ and the rest of the team around him. The short purple-haired kid and the tall blonde with a tail were from 1A, while besides him with her fox like ears perked up and familiar porcelain-looking mask hiding her gaze was his companion in crime for this event.

“1”

Izuku slid his hand into his pocket, his right arm held up with Kuro resting on the synthetic material of his glove, talons digging into it without an issue. Koda had sent the other two birds, Spar and Corras, away at the start of the sports festival. They had spent the time spreading the message across the nearby wildlife.

Even now Izuku could make out high above them, sitting on the upper legs of the stadium.

“START!”

With Midnight's shout, Izuku lifted his hand up, letting Kuro take flight even as he began to walk towards the Hill, ignoring the way that the rest of the crowd shouted and rushed for the platforms.

Izuku was already focused on what one he wanted.

As he and Koda stepped into the maze of arches and stairs that composed the Hill, he almost felt like he was back in Loraden all over again.

‘Goddamn architectural nightmares.’

Of course… that’s when the top of the mountain erupted into chaos as half of 1A decided to charge the throne.

Izuku could only sigh, then lashing out and slamming a fist into the wall, crushing a mushroom before it could grow and release spores.

As he tilted his head and looked up at the next platform in his and Koda’s path, he could only glare, eyes locked on the form of Kinoko Komori.

“... We’re just passing through. Don’t mind us.”

The puffy mushroom-shaped girl gave a scowl, more shrooms beginning to sprout around her. At her side, Juzo Honenuki, Kojiro Bondo, and Reiko Yanagi all readied for a fight.

Izuku could only give a soft sigh of annoyance.

“Koda, run for the platform… I’ll deal with them.”

As Koda gave a last glance, he took off on a roundabout path away from the fight, heading upwards.

Izuku, on the other hand, began to walk up the stairs once more, a hand coming up to the collar of his shirt and revealing that the turtleneck’s collar was actually a band of rolled-up material, a black face mask that he tugged up over his jaw, as his green eyes focused on the 1B crew.

They all shifted, one part unbelieving and one part uneasy.

Their thoughts may as well have been written large across their body language for Izuku.

‘Is he that arrogant?’ ‘We can take him!’ ‘This will be easy!’ ‘We’ll wipe the floor with him.’

With a slow flex and tense of his muscles to prime them, Izuku let the leash off his heart rate.

His heart began to sound the War Drum, and he stepped forward, before lunging.

---

Then

Izuku spat out blood, leaning back as he took gurgling breaths.

He hadn’t realized it until he had tried to run, until his breath was hard and heavy.

He had punctured his lungs, the edge of a broken rib tearing through his chest too far and too deep.

He was seeing spots, the strain of trying to breath ached.

"Let Me Help You." Izuku glared up at the approaching Synths. They had spread out, circling him where he leaned back against the central communications array. He had gotten ahead for a minute, enough time to realize he was fucked, and his bag was spilling across the computer console.

He gave a snarl of pain, teeth bloodstained as his hands came to rest on the supplies he had pulled from his bag.

As one of the Synths began to approach, the rest closing in, Izuku gave a half spin, throwing the bottle of scotch to smash against its chest, shattering and covering it with the amber liquid.

“Really?” the Synth sounded almost… bemused at the attack.

Which is when Izuku gave a grin back.

“Yep.”

And then he lit the flare in his other hand, tossing it to light the Synth on fire.

For a moment he felt a measure of accomplishment, seeing the pale flesh-like covering of the Synth start to char and blackened.

And then it started walking again.

"I Am Built To Withstand Temperatures Of Up To 1210 Degrees." The Synth ignored the charring or the fact that parts of its jumpsuit had started to drip and melt from the heat.

Izuku gave a gurgling swear, and drew his second revolver.

BANG!

A miss, the bullet shattering a computer screen behind the Synth.

Izuku realized his arm was shaking, his vision swaying as his breaths stopped helping.

He was choking on his own blood.

He fired again.

BANG!

Glanced off the Synths shoulder, and then it was close.

The molten hand wrapped around his neck, and Izuku screamed as he felt the flesh sear shut, the sound reduced to a gurgle of blood through his lips.

His eyes were going black, but he could feel the slow crunch of his throat.

He tried to aim the gun, only for his wrist to be held up, the barrel raised away from the Synth.

“Hold Still Please." As the Synth tightened his grip, Izuku watched the darkness creep upon him, and slowly twisted his wrist, aiming the gun back.

He didn’t want to suffocate to death. Not again.

The last thing he saw was the glint of the Revolvers’ barrel as he pulled the trigger.

Bang.

Day 60:12:10

Death Count: 130

Initiating Respawn.

---

Now

Juzo glanced at the figure coming their way. When Class 1B had split up, each team had noted which other teams were undermanned, and Juzo had seen that there was only one group that was a team of two.

He couldn’t remember seeing either of them using a quirk during the obstacle course, and the taller one had come in fairly late in the run. A bit of inquiry with the rest of the team confirmed all of them hadn’t seen either teen use a quirk, though they did point out the tall, rocky-skinned teen had spoken to the bird the other had called.

‘Animal communication or generation? Some sort of suggestion or mind control? Something to keep in mind.’

When they had seen the pair moving through the control point they had planned to take, he considered them an easy target.

Komori would hit them with a puff of spores, and then Juzo could soften the ground and bury both of them, removing them from the festival. And if not, Bondo could lock them down. It’s why he had chosen to take his team out this way on the ‘conquest’ plan in the first place—almost all of them were capture specialists.

That plan faltered when Komori’s mushroom was crushed; the teen who did it barely acknowledged that it had been a threat, before looking up at the four of them.

The dead dark green eyes that stared up had been almost bored with them, and the way his gaze dismissed Juzo’s team set him off.

When he sent the taller teen off to find another way up the hill, Juzo found himself filled with a sadistic bemusement, which was tinged with annoyance at the way the teen’s collar turned into a face mask. That made this fight more annoying, but only regarding Komori’s part of it.

And then the teen had taken off at them.

It was seconds before that bemusement changed to surprise, and then a tint of uncertainty.

Komori had stepped back, joining Reiko as the two began to grow a variety of mushrooms. This had been one of Juzo’s basic team-ups for a reason, with Reiko’s quirk letting her rip the fungus from the walls and throw them like paralytic fastballs.

Not that she really got the chance.

Juzo and Bondo had stepped forwards when the green-haired teen advanced, but when he kicked off and seemed to skirt through the steps and archways towards them, Bondo had responded with a wave of his Cemedine Glue, and Juzo sent his quirk began to soften and melt the nearby footholds. The wave of glue had gone high, and the softened ground was covering the low. The perfect trap!

When the glue landed, there was nothing there.

“SHIT, JU-”

The teen spun, looking back just in time to catch as the blue uniformed blur of his opponent closed with the girls of his squad.

How? Did he teleport?

Juzo grimaced and rushed to support his team, Bondo following behind to flank.

But it was too late. The green-haired teen seemed to blur and flicker as he got into the personal space of both girls, intentionally stepping between the two as he unleashed a flurry of quick strikes, alternating back and forth between the two with a vicious intensity.

With a brutal hooking kick, Reiko went skidding back at Juzo, who caught her with a grunt, before seeing as the form of Komori was judo flipped at Bondo, the giant catching her with a quick dash, before all four of them looked back at their opponent.

Who was now standing surrounded by paralytic mushrooms.

“KO! POP EM!”

As Komori focused and made all of her mushrooms release their spores, the 1A teen lunged—not at the 1B crew, but back—kicking up and along the decorative wall of the Hill itself as he climbed above the range of the spores, which Juzo realized with a swear now separated them from him.

“Like I said. I’m just passing through.”

As the green-haired teen dismissed them, he climbed further up, scaling and vanishing into the mess of arches above, Juzo could only curse.

“Dammit. Back to the plan. Komori, Reiko, you two okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That stupid spore head got away! For fungus sake, he made us look like amateurs!”

Juzo sighed. Yeah, his team was fine.

He glanced out at the floating scoreboards, only to blink when he realized something else.

The fucker stole half their points for when he was on the platform!

He paused at that.

Wait… everyone on the board has an individual score too?

Indeed, as the boards on the outer walls tracked points, they showed that while each team on a control point got an equal split of the points, the individual members also had those points split between who was on what platform.

If the platform that Juzo and his team was on gained them 80 points every 5 seconds, then each of them got 20 points each. Their team still received all 80 points, and ranked accordingly.

But when the green-haired teen, Izuku Midoriya, was on the platform, they only got ten each. Midoriya got 40. While his teammate got 0. People could add to their teams points by hunting for unused capture points, but they also could get a higher personal score by doing so.

Which suddenly made the fact that Midoriya was part of the only two-man team, way more interesting.

Because that meant all their points were only split two ways, at worst. If they split up? They could both get the points of 3 or 4 people at a time..

And who knows when those are going to come into play!?

Juzo gnashed his teeth slightly, before glancing to see the rocky teen who was Midoriya’s partner began to collect points.

‘They both got by… fuck. I hope that the crew that headed up top does better.’

In the meantime, Juzo and his team went back to the plan.

Capture and seal off as many of the middle of the tower capture points they could get.

Bakugou released another blast of light and sound, shattering the growing spires of ice that had started to encircle the summit.

Most of his team had split up, hunting for spare points while he held the throne himself.

It looked like Half and Half had the same idea.

While others tried to jump in, this was a rematch before all else.

Bakugou crouched on the throne, his hands gleaming with a series of sparks, even as he kept his eyes on the ice, frost and shattered ice pillars surrounding Todoroki.

As they fought, their scores rose, but both of them knew only one could claim the throne at the end.

Bakugou was just glad that Deku had apparently decided that going for it was too much of a hassle.

Chapter 31: Kill Streak

Summary:

Izuku decides to thin the herd.

Koda tapped his foot nervously. It hadn’t been too hard to reach the section Midoriya had pointed out, a triangular point that jutted out just below the peak of the hill. It was close enough that the waves of ice forming up above him had lowered the temperature, his breath misting in the air.

Glancing at the two paths to either side that lead up to the point, Koda was nervous. Midoriya had picked the point for two reasons: the sheer cliff that lined the crenelated ledges, which would keep people from scaling up the wall easily, and the crossroads that led to the summit. The two paths from each side met and turned up the hill, a narrow staircase leading to the clash at the top.

Koda jumped, the scuff of boots on stone signaling Midoriya’s appearance as he landed at Koda’s side, the animal controlling teen wide-eyed.

-I thought you said people couldn’t scale that ledge?-

-Easily. Other people couldn’t scale it easily. And not nearly as silent as I can.-

Koda gave Izuku that, the only sound was his boots on the ground when he landed, and the animal speaker expected that was a courtesy.

The two of them glanced up, the sight of the board and their score rising… but not fast enough.

Other teams were rising slightly faster, overtaking their position.

Koda cringed.

Midoriya, meanwhile, focused more on the speed at which individual members were rising. His eyes narrowed as he pieced together the game plan of the other players.

“Call a flock down to defend you, I’ll clear the field.” Midoriya loosened up his blade, and tightened his gloves once more, head tilted. “1-B is making a play. And I feel like they need to take a hit.”

Koda gave a nod and held his fingers to his lips. A sharp whistle rang out, and above the hill, the circling form of Kuro let out a loud screech. The sky became dark, the flock of birds flowing down in a massive spiral that caused Present Mic to scream in surprise. By the time Aizawa began to explain what was going on, the birds had come to roost, perched around Koda’s perch, screeching and shifting.

As Kuro himself came to rest on Koda’s shoulder, the teen began to thank and speak to his flock of birds.

-:Yes, yes. Seeds and Bread for you all, and Worms for those who prefer them. I’ll have it all for you in the morning.:-

Koda gave a glance and noticed that in the chaos, Midoriya had vanished once more.

---

Then

Izuku paced through the conference room in his safe area, looking over the blueprints and manuals he had collected.

Vent diagrams were posted to the walls, maps of each section he had seen with notes in bright red and blue as he tried to trace his path.

But something was sticking out.

How had the Alien moved from one place to the next like that?

He had also dismissed the idea of using the handgun for anything other than a last resort; it was too loud and ineffective so far. However, that meant he needed something else to deal with the Working Joes and the Alien.

He rubbed his eyes as his vision blurred for the second time in the last five minutes. He needed a nap, to rest up before he headed back into the simulation.

He needed more data before he could clear Sevastopol.

He needed to find out what exactly the Working Joes and Alien were vulnerable to.

As he rubbed the ache between his eyes away, he waved the notebook function away with his other hand, heading back to the bed. He hadn’t heard from Sugo recently, but hopefully, the fact that he was still focusing on clearing would make the system leave him be and get some sleep.

---

Now

Jirou cursed as she ducked under a horn that shot her way. She glanced to see Mei, the pink-haired inventor, throw a pair of grenades past the archway they were defending. The manic member of class 1-H was enthusiastic, and with Momo’s help she had come up with plenty of small tools just for this, from grenades that released a quick-acting containment foam to a small array of flash mines that would alert them to incoming teams.

Already the four of them had taken a collection of points that were close to each other, with Shouji and Momo holding their own capture points while Mei and Jirou dealt with one together.

The bright flash of light and the now familiar sound of hissing foam rang out, and Jirou heard curses as another member of 1-B got caught.

Of course, then another pair of horns slammed into the archway, only the instincts drilled into her letting Jirou recover after the impact knocked her over, the archway crumbling even as she rolled to a crouch, her blade pulled up and in a guard.

Tsunotori Pony was stuck up to her hips in the quick foam, but her horns were still free to attack.

With a grimace, Jirou brought her sword up higher and adjusted her stance, falling into the familiar state she had learned from Midoriya’s teachings. She could hear Mei's muttering from behind her, and the soft swears as the tinkerer tried to come up with something to deal with the horned teen.

A pair of horns came rushing at her, and Jirou smashed them both out and away with sharp flicks of the blade, the blunted edge more than capable of shattering the horns as she deflected them. She felt the slow tension that she had come to connect to the clash of blades with Midoriya and Momo.

The edges of her focus smoothed out, her hearing focused for tricks and on the way air shifted. She wasn’t the best fighter with a blade, but she had spent two weeks being attacked by Midoriya, who was the most vicious and merciless fighter she had ever seen.

The 1-B girl was nothing in comparison. The horns could jerk and shift as they closed in, but she was used to that. They were… just a touch too slow.

2, 4, 6, 10, 14, 20.

The shattered horns were smashed like the beat of a drum, her motions measured and fast as she cut each one down with as much speed and precision as she could muster, taking only a few steps back to avoid horns that tried to flank her.

“Duck!”

Trusting Mei, she hit the deck in a dive, ignoring as the last horn sliced through the air over her shoulder. A mechanical orb soared over and latched onto the foam around the 1-B student, before sparking.

With a shout of pain, the American transfer swore loudly in English, before surrendering.

Jirou grinned, and pushed up, glancing at Mei with a sharp smile. “Nice throw!”

As the pink-haired teen grinned back, Jirou slid an ear jack into the hill.

She didn’t want to risk getting surprised whe-

‘Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.’

The steady beat of Midoriya moved from where it had perched nearby, quicker than his resting heartbeat, but Jirou could swear it felt… almost eager. She reached out further, feeling for where he was going.

Six other heartbeats, unfamiliar, were grouped up near where the 1-B girl had come from.

Midoriya was moving right for them.

‘Those poor bastards.’

---

Then

Izuku cursed, ducking behind a corner as lights flashed past him. He had been stupid and rushed for the security office, and got fucking caught.

Given how he now had a bullet hole through his arm, he was really not feeling good about this run.

As the lights flashed past his hiding spot, he thought back to his plan, which was rapidly being scrapped.

Find a schematic for the Working Joe, find a weapon that could punch through the Alien’s armor, and get some sort of way open towards the APOLLO core, so he could get more information.

Of course, the first plan, to grab a shotgun from the group of survivors near the starting room, had gone poorly.

Not only did he not get the shotgun, he was instead found, got shot, and kicked the goddamn hornets’ nest.

“THERE HE IS!”

With a curse, Izuku heard the call as a flash of light ran over his side.

Lunging, Izuku heard the bang of gunshots and choked at the impact of a bullet in his gut.

As he writhed on the floor, trying to get past the shock of pain, a boot ran up and kicked him over.

“FUCKING LOOTERS!”

The woman above him was gaunt and manic, and her shotgun came up, aimed at Izuku’s chest.

‘Well fuck’

On a scale of “Slowly Eviscerated by Slender'' to “Died Nearly Instantly by Massive Head Trauma,” the shotgun was about the same as choking to death on his own blood. Painful, took way too long to actually die, and had no real solution.

He really hated that he had enough experience dying to analyze it like that.

Day 61:04:10

Death Count: 131

---

Now

Izuku moved nearly silently along the architecture of the hill. Each step found a foothold with the ease of long practice. His pulse was higher, the familiar sting of adrenaline slowly inching through his veins.

He followed his instincts, listening and parsing information as he let his thoughts ping and dance between the sensory information he normally ignored.

There were three 1-B teams that were slowly gaining in points, enough that he considered them a threat. The other two were still a threat, but not one he couldn’t overcome.

Thankfully, as he landed with a graceful crouch on the top of a dividing wall, he looked down at a larger control point nearly dead center on the side of the hill. However, while two of the members were more defensive, the other four were focusing on a narrow staircase that led to the hilltop.

An ambush team… interesting.

Names from the boards above them matched with the faces of those below.

Kamakiri Togaru, who was focused on the hilltop above, fingers twitching with restrained adrenaline at each flash of an explosion, or new icy construct that grew and shifted.

Shishida Jurota, who was crouched over a rough representation of the hill, as he considered their tactics.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, the buff teen shadow boxing lightly, keeping his arms up and muscles loose as he danced back and forth.

And Kendo Itsuka, the Class President of 1-B. The auburn-haired girl was also looking at the map of the hill, rubbing her hands together.

The defensive members of the crew were Kodai Yui, who was blocking the lower areas off with supersized chunks of rubble, and the form of Awase Yosetsu who was currently sealing off one of the archways with rubble in a large barricade.

Izuku took this all in with only a second of thought, letting the menacing rush of combat pulse through his thoughts.

Six opponents, ten minutes left on the timer, and four of them are well-rested and geared for an assault.

Feels just like the simulation.

With his shirt's face mask pulled to rest over the bridge of his nose, it wasn’t visible, but Izuku’s grin was nearly feral. Even in the late morning sun, with no shadows to speak of, Izuku’s eyes were shadowed by his hair.

With a shift, he lunged forwards, off the wall and into the pavilion.

First… the tacticians have to go.

His eyes, a gleaming jade, locked with the widening green of Kendo’s, her shout only barely passing her lips before he struck.

“INCOMING!”

---

Then

Izuku broke open another maintenance lock with what was quickly becoming a familiar motion and pulled it aside.

Instead of crossing to the other towers, he had moved up the habitation tower, heading for the VIP lounge. He was exploring, trying to map and find useful gear that didn’t require getting shot at. He had been... uneasy since he left the center of the tower, where most of the survivors had holed up. The further up he went, the more deserted and ruined things became.

And he was even more uneasy at the lack of corpses.

Bloodstains were everywhere. There were broken doors, sprawled bags and supplies… but no bodies. Just bloodstains.

As Izuku moved up further, he shined his light around a corner, slowly panning over a lounge area that was absolutely shredded.

He paced through with the maintenance jack held in his right hand and a short piece of pipe, the end sheared off into a point, in his off-hand.

Clink.

Izuku turned, eyes darting across the far side of the area as he stepped backward, eyes tracing the room for motion.

Nothing…

He took a step backwards and waited.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then… something dripped on the back of his neck.

He barely had a chance to look up before chitinous claws landed on his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground as fear froze his veins.

He was pinned, and the Alien snarled, mouth opening in a rattling hiss.

It’s like an eel, a second set of-

The last thing Izuku saw was the flicker of the second set of jaws that latched onto his face and dragged him into the maw of the monster.

He woke from that death screaming in rage and pain.

“FUCK. THAT.”

Day 63:04:10

Death Count: 133

---

Now

Kendo Itsuka considered herself a good fighter; it’s part of the reason that after her team and the rest of 1-B had started securing territory and points, she had raced to join up with one of the assault teams to take the throne. When the 1-A teen with green hair and a sword leapt down at her, she had been more than confident in her skills to fight him off. She raised an enlarged hand to block his opening strike-

And staggered from the force of his blow.

Eyes wide, she barely saw the blur of motion, the teen dropping after conducting his dropkick to her hands, seeming to flow into a low swinging stance she recognized as a wheel kick.

As it swept her feet off the ground, she could only tense to take the fall-

Her arms barely crossed over her chest in time to catch the rising knee that sent her flying across the area, arms already bruising from the force.

She looked up, just in time for the rest of the 1-B students to rush him.

Shishida was the closest, having been next to Kendo when she got knocked away. The Beast Quirked teen grew, arms bushy and muscled as he swung for the green-haired teen.

The crack of bone on metal and wood met him.

The wrapped blade was held reversed and along his arm, braced and secured so that even with Shishida’s increased mass, Midoriya Izuku barely shifted, and Shishida was clearly caught off guard by that.

“Not strong enough, sorry.”

With a twist, he rolled along the outside of Shishida’s arm, the wrapped blade sliding into place on the inside of the beastly teen’s elbow even as the smaller, but apparently far stronger, teen turned his twisting momentum into a flat-out judo toss, leverage and force sending the beast over his shoulder into an unwanted cartwheel-

Was that a bastardized Seoi-nage move?

With a roar of surprise, Shishida went flying, crashing right into the charging form of a fully steeled Tetsutetsu.

As Kendo finally staggered to her feet, she heard the roar of Kamakiri as he struck, blades sliding from his arms, lashing out-

And Midoriya met them with a flash of his own blade.

“Sloppy.”

Kendo could only watch, even as she tried to think of a plan of attack, as Kamakiri was torn apart.

The berserker of 1-B lashed out and tried his hardest to cut through Midoriya’s defenses, only for each blade to be deflected and dodged with minimal effort, the only sign of the blades meeting was the long thin cuts that slowly began to pass through the wrapped tape of the weapon in Midoriya’s grasp.

“Your anger is sharp, but your intent is fragile. You are a brittle blade indeed.”

With those words, Midoriya stopped defending and stepped into the center of Kamakiri’s guard, gloved hand and wrapped blade lashing out and shattering the blades that reached for him, before a spin of the blade in his grip let him slam the hilt into Kamakiri’s temple.

With a slump, the teen passed out, unconscious.

Midoriya caught his collar, slowing the teen’s collapse just enough to avoid further injury.

“Kendo, what’s the plan?”

Kendo swallowed her dry throat, eyes intent as she looked at Midoriya, standing from where he had set Kamakiri on the ground. Glancing to the side, she saw Shishida and Tetsutetsu stand up, while on the other side of her, Awase and Yui were readied.

“Shishida, Tetsutetsu, keep him-”

A sound like the clang of steel on stone interrupted her, and she glanced back to flinch as Midoriya was flickering across the ground, each sharp motion accompanied by his steel-soled boots on the concrete plaza, seeming to skip and drive him across the flat plaza like gunshots.

“OCCU-”

She barely got the word half-out, hands coming up as the last flicker ended with Midoriya executing a perfect half-spin heel kick, the metal plate of the heel cracking into her crossed arms like the toll of a church bell, sending her ragdolling across the last stretch of the plaza to the edge, where she barely managed to catch the railing there and avoid going over.

“You take too long.”

As Kendo once more staggered back, arms stinging, she saw Awase and Tetsutetsu charge the teen.

The uncertain feeling was back, and this time she was more than willing to classify it as awe-inspiring terror.

Awase and Tetsutetsu were flanking the teen, they had worked together before, both knew how to fight.

And Midoriya was playing with them.

He held the sword by the blade in his right arm, the hilt held ahead and the blade tucked along his arm.

The other hand had gloved fingers that curled and clawed.

Tetsutetsu’s heavy opening strike was hooked and redirected, even as Midoriya’s clawed grip caught and twisted Awase’s lunge into a stumble, both of them passing by the green-haired teen, overextended and off guard.

And then the flurry of strikes began.

A blade-reinforced elbow strike hit Tetsutetsu's gut before the hilt hooked around his neck and dragged him further off balance.

A knee slammed into Awase’s gut, making the teen gag, before his ankle was swept from under him, sending him stumbling away - just in time for Yui to swing a bar of stone that turned into a column at Midoriya.

For a moment, Kendo thought it would hit.

But instead, Midoriya simply seemed to flatten against the ground like he was breakdancing, leaving Tetsutetsu to take the hit at full speed and off-balance.

Yui’s wince as the steel teen was sent flying matched Kendo’s.

Tetsutetsu slammed into - and then through - the stone railing next to Kendo.

“Two down.”

Midoriya’s voice echoed out, dragging her gaze back as he rose from his position with an almost ethereal sway before he ducked a swing from the roaring Shishida.

Something about his voice was darkly amused, and as he twisted past another lashing strike, he proved why.

Kendo saw it.

The trap as it was laid out.

His back to Yui, his head tilted away from Awase as both of them charged.

Shishida had lost his cool, raging, arms lashing out, overextending.

With a motion so smooth Kendo thought it was choreographed, Midoriya moved. He twisted under Awase’s reach, gripped his wrist, and planted the hand, already gleaming with Awase’s quirk, on Shishida's gym uniform even as Yui swung with another bar of expanding stone, eyes widening as it didn’t hit anything.

Except that Midoriya placed Awase’s other hand on it and shoved it and the stone, redirecting it into the chest of Shishida’s uniform.

With the gleam of Weld, Shishida was suddenly glued to a half-ton chunk of rubble, Awase cursing before he was grabbed around the upper arm, feet leaving the ground as Midoriya swung him up and around.

There was a split second where it dawned on all three members of 1-B still fighting what was about to happen.

And then Awase was slamming into the off-balance Yui, and both went sprawling off the platform, right through the gap in the railing that Tetsu had made.

With a desperate lunge and her quirk, Kendo caught them by the legs, one hand still grabbing onto the railing to keep from getting dragged over the ledge.

“Hold on!”

“YEAH, NO WORRIES PREZ!”

The drop to the next level of the hill wasn’t crazy far, only about four meters, but that was more than enough for a serious injury.

Well, unless you were Tetsutetsu, who was currently half-buried in a collapsed archway below, legs kicking furiously.

Kendo shifted, but couldn’t get the leverage to pull the two up.

From behind her, she could hear the sound of Shishida roaring as he went after Midoriya by himself.

But after a few seconds, the roar was choked out.

She twisted to see Shishida, weighed down by the boulder fused to his shirt, trying to reach to where Midoriya was hanging off the back of his neck, the sword held against the larger teen’s throat as he struggled.

She couldn’t risk glancing back after that, trying her hardest to pull both her classmates up, but soon enough she heard the thunk of rock on rock, and the slow pace of steel heels on stone that signaled Midoriya striding across the plaza.

“Shit, I’m dropping you for a minute! Brace!”

Both of her classmates readied themselves and fell to the ground with rolls and thuds, just as Kendo tried to twist around to get up-

A boot slammed into the small of her back, and pinned her on the edge, with no leverage to move.

“I really am sorry about this, but your class was a bit too put-together. You might still have a chance, as long as you don’t come back for revenge.”

“What the hell are you?!” Kendo was trying to twist free, but couldn’t get a grip.

“Nothing you want to fight.”

And with that, Izuku shifted his foot, and shoved her off the cliff.

“Dammit!”

Thankfully, Yui and Awase were ready and caught her.

As they glanced up, they only caught the last second of Midoriya’s profile, before he vanished.

“Shit. And we just reinforced that position didn’t we?”

“Enough, there's still-”

Kendo glanced at the clock and paled.

There were still 6 minutes on the clock.

Midoriya hadn’t needed even five minutes to wipe the floor with them.

“-Nevermind. Let's go. We can still reinforce the other plazas and get enough points to move on. Let's go!”

“What about Kamakiri and Shishida?”

“They’re both unconscious. We don’t have time.”

With that, the three stopped to dig out Tetsutetsu before they all took off, but not without a few shouted words.

---

Then

Izuku sighed as he maneuvered through the luggage and long term storage sections of the habitation tower, maintenance jack over one shoulder and flashlight off as he navigated by the soft running lights of the station and his rapidly regained night vision.

He had started changing up his outfit a bit, hunting down a few belts with pouches and removing the top half of his jumpsuit, preferring the freedom of the tanktop he now wore, and the harness that held his bag of supplies.

Along with that, the maintenance jack he now had in his possession had been modified over time. A thin layer of cloth around the hammerhead would muffle the noise of breaking locks, and a ripped up belt with some binding agent had made a serviceable strap to carry it more securely with.

The only security scanner that wasn’t either torn to scrap or guarded beyond all fuck was the one in the Systec Spire.

Which was annoying, but Izuku had decided that he should learn how to do this manually, and spent the last few lives experimenting when he wasn’t mapping and hunting through the station. A few sessions of researching the wiring diagrams for the general security door, a bit of wire to bridge the right connections, and an increasing amount of practice had meant he could get a few doors that had been secured open.

As he found the next door, he got to work, crouching as a small lever from his pocket removed the casing for the security panel.

“Positive to positive…” The beep of the alarm failing gave him pause, and he adjusted. “Negative to ground…”

A spark, and he shorted out the door’s internal sensor, fried the locking mechanism, and triggered the emergency deactivation.

With a click, the door unlocked.

Sadly, this also fried the door’s motors.

With a grunt, he slowly slid one side of the door open, just enough to slide through without catching on the edge.

That had been a bad way to lose an arm a few lives ago.

He also added, “dying from blood loss because your arm got caught in a door” to his list of shitty ways to die.

As he got through, he looked out and froze.

“The Spaceport… Huh.” Izuku glanced around and slowly walked out, eyes taking in the large panoramic view and the small kiosks that were around.

“I know there was a riot around here at some point…”

Izuku had been hunting for audio logs and journals as he cleared out the tower, slowly piecing together its history.

After the first quarantine had gone down over in the medical wing, tensions had risen. When more and more people started disappearing, when the marshals locked down even tighter… that’s when things went bad.

And it’s not like people were all that happy before that. The station was already on the way to being decommissioned. People were underpaid and overworked. The Working Joes had been covering a large chunk of the general tasks, leaving plenty of people without work, stuck waiting for their shuttle off.

Which is why when people gathered to complain about the lockdown, with the marshals already on edge… Someone had opened fire into the crowds.

As Midoriya walked along the upper pavilion of the space dock, he could see where luggage had been left and where racks of crates had been knocked over.

It reminded him of what some places looked like after a villain attack. When people ran off to avoid danger and didn’t return.

Izuku took the stairs down, and strode out across the area right around where customs should be.

He stood there, and looked around, before seeing it.

Bullet casings.

A good dozen of them, left to shine in the light of the stars.

A glance around and Izuku could see a few divots in the metal of the far wall, and a few dark stains that had been splattered on the ground, kicked and tracked around where the crowd had panicked.

Izuku paused and crouched as he saw something.

A revolver, kicked under a trolley… but some distance away from where the Marshals must have been standing.

Izuku crouched and picked it up, flipping it open to see that there were still five of six rounds left, with only one having been fired.

Curious.

He glanced around and called up his notebook, moving back up to the higher level as he began to sketch, getting a higher angle to plot out where things were in relation to each other.

Something here was wrong.

And he could feel how important it must have been.

Ten minutes later he looked at the rough sketch of where people must have been standing.

“That gun… wasn’t fired by a Marshal.”

Izuku glanced up, and was right.

There, above him, one of the lights was shattered.

“Someone started a riot… but why?”

Why would someone want to capitalize on the chaos of the Alien? Or be ready to cause chaos anyway. Something is very off here… and I’m growing really skeptical about coincidences anymore.

Izuku sighed, and tucked the revolver into his belt.

“I’ve cleared most of habitation so far… I think it’s time I head to the medical wing and see what I can find.”

Izuku turned towards the doorway back into habitation.

“Now… How do I get to the tram without setting off the Alien?”

---

Now

With a sigh, Izuku let go, dropping the now untransformed Shishida next to the unconscious Kamakiri where they both were off the capture point. Izuku had realized soon enough that the sensor to track students must be in their clothing somewhere, and really wasn’t planning to share his points now.

With a casual pace, he headed for the dead center of the plaza and stretched, feeling the faint ache of his muscles from the stress he had put on them. The pain of fighting like this was slowly building, but with time to rest, he should be just fine.

“Hagakure, you should leave. I’d rather not throw you off the point,” Izuku called out, tilting his head as he focused on a spot near the stairs.

“Shit.” With a scramble of bare feet on stone, she ran off, Izuku watching in amusement as he could almost make out the girl's path and form by the faintest distortion of the air she left behind.

With a shake of his head, he glanced up at the scoreboard. As Izuku watched, his score and Koda’s slowly rose, quickly passing seventh, then sixth, then coming to rest just behind fourth place.

“Five minutes to go.”

Izuku sighed deeply and set his sword point-first on the pavement stones before him, his hands on the pommel, staring at the path to the summit of the hill and letting himself relax.

He had a minute.

After all, the throne could wait for him.

Chapter 32: King Of The Hill

The crack of an explosion like a cannon strike shattered another forming cathedral of ice pillars.

‘Goddamnit Half-and-Half, what is with this Ice Queen bullshit?’

The air was goddamn freezing. His breath was misting, and across from him, surrounded by a series of spikes and ramparts, the other teen was half-buried in an icy fortress that was growing up the side of the hill.

This wasn’t the clash of their first Heroics class or the head-to-head race that had been the last fight.

No, this was a slow, methodical strike. And it wouldn’t be working if not for the fucking extras who keep charging the hill.

Katsuki could shatter the ice fort, could crush his way through and take Half-and-Half face to face. But he was stuck defending.

He had already taken on a few other attacks. A pair of floating hands had hit him early on, but a few seconds of focus had been all he needed to send them flying off the hill and out of the fight.

But every second that he spent taking out some uppity moron with glory in their eyes, the building fortress of ice got more and more complex and embedded. It had dug into the concrete foundations and stretched up and around the various arches and structures of the hill, and every time he had to take a few seconds to destroy someone else, it progressed closer and closer.

Like this bitch.

A series of vines burst from the concrete near the throne, only to be vaporized by a hand of explosive force.

The vine-haired teen was part of a strike force that had decided that now that the 1-A members were occupied, they could get up and close.

And fucking Todoroki could ignore most of that, with the massive ice fort he was tucked away inside.

Blasting another seeking group of vines away, he growled and sidestepped as the orange-haired chick with the big hands lunged up at him.

“Fucking bitch! Can you fucking get off my point.”

He swung around, only for a third fighter to leap up and out of the redhead’s shadow.

Black and white, the teen clocked Katsuki in the jaw, only to yelp as a blast sent him flying back.

Spitting blood from where he could feel his lip split open, Katsuki growled and let loose.

“Oooh, that’s gotta hurt folks! After trying to come back from that devastating throwdown earlier, Kendo Itsuka, Shiozaki Ibara, and Kuroiro Shihai have been knocked out!”

Of course, with the 1-B students out of the way, Katsuki turned back to see the fortress was now creeping up to the throne.

“FUCK OFF HALF-AND-HALF!”

The explosion cracked and shattered a massive section of the ice fortress, but he could feel it.

Bakugou was reaching his limit.

If he wanted any sort of chance in the one-on-one matches later, he had to play this conservatively.

---

Then

Izuku glanced down, seeing the distant shadows of the group of survivors who sat around the sealed-off area. It had taken a few hours, and two deaths, but he had found a way past. A maintenance hatch in the floors above them had a vent that opened in the station's roof.

With his maintenance jack, the revolver from the starport, and a lot of random gear in his bag, he had finally made it up to the passage without alerting any of the various survivor groups. He paused one last time to do a spot check, making sure everything was tied down. From the jack across his shoulders and the bag to the gun which was in his belt, to the headset with a light and the backup supplies in his pockets.

Unfortunately, now came the hard part.

The vent opened quietly enough. He was more than used to how they worked. As it came to rest quietly against the wall, he winced at the sight of the gap below him.

The area the survivors had settled into was the junction between the tram system, the damaged space dock, and the access to the long term storage system. A natural intersection between all three meant that they had easy control of the area around them.

However, the rooms they had taken for their own also had tall open ceilings because they were built into a ‘dead zone’ - an empty area where engineering could reach the backsides of other systems. There was an elevator shaft that headed for the upper floors of the residential wing, as well as the hatches and docking structures for the tram line.

The latter was what Izuku wanted to get into. Sadly, the only way to get there was to climb.

So here he was, all his gear strapped tight and tied down to be as quiet as possible. He could see the handholds for the area; general-purpose grips to steady an engineer as they opened panels and maintenance hatches. However, the issue is that most engineers would also be clipped onto a safety line above them when doing this.

He couldn’t find any to use, which meant he had to do without.

With a deep breath to steady himself, Izuku lifted himself out of the vent, and slowly placed his foot on a ledge.

‘Just take it nice and slow... don’t want anyone to look up.’

He reached out and wrapped his hand around the first handle, and resisted the urge to look down.

‘Nice and slow.’ He breathed out slowly, shifting so he could swing his other leg out and onto the ledge, before gripping the handle tightly again.

‘One down… now, just keep going.’

Izuku reached out and climbed his way onwards.

One handhold at a time.

---

Now

Uraraka Ochako ducked under another spray of glue from Bondo, even as Tsu leaped up and around, dodging the skeletal form of Juzo as he tried to melt and distort the area around them. Uraraka and her team had been playing it safe, taking lower levels and avoiding big fights. Thankfully, it seemed to be paying off. Tokoyami was more than able to defend the side of the hill that was currently in the shadow of the sun, the large bird crashing around, managing to control three points that were close together, while Uraraka and Tsu held another nearby.

Sadly, that had only lasted until they were attacked by the 1-B team. Thankfully, they had taken out Reiko, the girl with the telekinetic power, early on. Soon after, Tsuyu got lucky and managed to throw Kinoko off the hill as well, the two being eliminated by hitting the ground off the hill and going out of bounds, their scores being reset to zero (which was not something any of the teachers had mentioned!)

However, Bondo and Honenuki were not so easily taken care of.

Ochako took cover as another blast of glue sprayed out. She had lightened her gravity on and off, giving her just that much of an edge when moving, but with Bondo’s reach, she couldn’t close the gap!

She glanced out and caught Tsuyu, the frog girl perched in an archway nearby.

Making sure the other had caught her eyes, Uraraka mouthed out, ‘Switch?’

When she nodded, they broke from cover.

However, this time, Tsuyu lept for Bondo, tongue lashing out as a nearly weightless Ochako rebounded off the arches and pillars to fly at the startled Juzo. With a toothy growl, the softening quirk teen tried to ready for a melee fight, hands up for a brawl.

Clapping her hands, Ochako returned her mass just before slamming her shoulder into Juzo’s stomach, sending both of them sprawling across the ground. She was vaguely aware of the fight between Tsu and Bondo, even as she grappled to try and get a hand flat on Juzo.

As they rolled, she finally got it, her hand planted on his stomach as she shoved him up and off, sending his flailing body cartwheeling off the hill with loud curses, before a clap of her hands sent him plummeting out of bounds, to be caught by Cementoss’s concrete.

Pushing up, she saw Tsu get caught in a spray of cemendine, the frog girl pinned by her leg to a column.

Pushing up, she charged, the tall teen barely turning before she got close enough to send him after Juzo.

“TSU! You alright?”

“Fine, Kero. Just stuck.”

Careful to avoid the syrupy spray, Ochako tried to get closer and swore.

Most of Tsu’s leg was wrapped up in the quickly hardening epoxy, and she wasn’t getting out of it easily.

“Shit.”

“You should keep going, Kero. I’m probably eliminated after this, but you and Tokoyami still have a chance to make it.”

With a curse, Ochako nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about this Tsu, swapping enemies was my idea.”

“Don’t worry about it. Good luck, Kero.”

Ochako ran off. Her team was still sitting steady at fifth place, and if she and Tokoyami could just hold out for the last four minutes…

---

Then

Izuku glanced down as he fiddled with the seal on the vent.

One arm was looped through a handheld, even as he leaned out across a gap in order to reach the wiring for the vent hatch.

He hadn’t been seen, but the survivors below him were shifting and talking, the sound drawing on his anxiety as it made every move oh so much tenser than it was before.

With a careful motion, he finally unhooked the right wire.

‘Power… to the motor array. Bypassing the systems computer lock. Just for a…’

A spark, small and quick, made Izuku freeze, eyes darting below.

‘Please… please please please…’

A long second passed; Izuku’s heart was pounding in his ears even as he felt cold sweat along his spine.

But… no one reacted.

A deep slow breath and Izuku went back to the wires.

Slower, he connected the wire once more, making sure to ground it.

With the faintest of mechanical whirring as the servos kicked in, the vent cover slid aside.

Izuku glanced down, and when nothing happened he slowly set the wire he was using aside, making sure it was kept away from anywhere it could spark and fuze.

A slow step, and he was there, one hand on the edge of the vent, the other holding the last handle as he lifted himself slowly onto the edge of the duct.

If he was right, this path should drop him directly at the tram doors.

All he had to do was get there silently and not alert anything.

So, with careful motions, he lowered himself into the vent system, arms propped against the vent walls as he slowly began to shuffle down the vertical shaft he was in.

Three vents down… follow for another 3 intersections, then right, left, right, and a final right.

Three, three, right, left, double right.

With his mantra in mind, he began to slowly slide through the vent, arms and feet controlling his descent while he ignored the slowly building ache of exhaustion. He could rest for a bit in the locked down section of engineering before trying for the medical building, he just had to get there.

He passed one vent, feeling the shift of air as he reached it.

He reached the second one, feeling the air flow by once more.

Then the worst happened.

He slipped.

He shifted, just a bit, just to let some tension off his arm.

Maybe he was just too sweaty after a close call.

Maybe this section of the shaft was greasier or messier.

Izuku couldn’t help the shouted curse as he slammed into the wall to stop his descent, just next to the third vent.

For a split second, just a few milliseconds, he had hope.

And then a gunshot rang out and blew a hole in the vent less than a foot above his head.

He shoved his way through the third vent, moving as fast as he could.

If he could just reach the tram.

---

Now

Shinsou sighed in relief, seeing the slackened muscles and motions of the six-armed member of 1-A. It had taken more effort than he really wanted to get the tall teen to respond to his taunts, but in the end, he had.

His team was currently in seventh, but with the way several other teams had members who had started going red, eliminated by combat or ring out, he had a chance.

But that chance relied on Jade.

“Go, I’ll take care of the rest of the points. Just keep them off my back.”

The foxy teen gave a grin. And with a shift of body language, she took a similar stance to the one the six-armed teen had taken. With a slow breath, her form began to shift and blur, before she blinked at him from over a navy blue face mask and under silver hair.

Where the general student had stood was now the intimidating shape and form of Shouji Mezo.

As she ran off, Shinsou commanded the real Shouji to attack another platform. Even when the mind control eventually broke, it was more than likely that he would be too busy to put together what happened, leaving Shinsou with plenty of time to watch as his score ticked upwards.

He would have to thank Jade for her assistance. And owe her that favor down the line...

He watched the scoreboard, feeling the tension even as he let the building headache of using his quirk on more than one person at a time settle.

‘This… is gonna be close.’

---

Then

Izuku kicked down, sending the cover for the vent clattering to the ground, and dropped from the vent into the tram station. The distant shouts of the survivors were growing louder as they rushed through the halls and rooms of the station to find him.

It was the work of a moment to slam the button to call the tram to the station. As he waited, however, he stepped up to one of the supporting pillars and placed his back to it, pulling the revolver from his belt as he listened for-

Those weren’t the shouts of someone hunting him.

“MOVE!”

“SHOOT IT SHOOT IT!”

Gunshots rang out from down the hallway, back where the survivors were.

Izuku froze.

The tram was moving in, shifting closer by the second…

But behind him, people were dying.

‘It’s a simulation, they aren’t real.’

A gunshot, followed by a scream.

‘It doesn’t matter, none of this matters. Nothing here is real.’

The shriek of the Alien echoed off the walls, and Izuku’s knuckles on the gun went white.

‘Nothing matters…’

“AHHHHDGHKkkk-”

As the scream of a dying man came to a choked stop, Izuku snarled to himself.

‘...WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT EVER STOP ME.’

Gritting his teeth, Izuku tossed his bag against the gate where the tram would come from and lifted the revolver up, his other hand falling to his side as it ran across the bulky item in his pocket.

He needed… One more thing.

His eyes were drawn to the glint of sheared-off metal.

‘I’m getting really fucking sick of running from my problems.’

---

Now

The timer was almost up.

Three minutes left.

Iida raced between the pair of points he had taken, feet skidding on the stone as he shoved and pushed attackers off. Kaminari was sitting dazed on one of them, recovering from using his quirk on a group of attackers early on, mostly members of 1-B, and a few general studies students.

Above him, he kept glancing at the growing ice structures that represented the third member of his team… He had teamed up with Todoroki for a chance to prove himself. For the help to move to the next round.

He wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

---

Then

The Alien rose from a crouch, its mouth dripping blood and gore as it tore into a dead survivor. As its head tilted up, it began to stalk across the hall towards the last two living survivors in this group.

They were crying, screaming.

As it moved closer, it began to hiss, to snarl that menacing sound as it assessed the situation.

“YO JACKASS!”

The noise was loud and drew the aliens' gaze around… just as the double crack of the gun firing and a bullet skidding off its chiton rang out, leaving only a groove to mark it’s passing.

There, standing in the doorway, lights behind him flickering and casting his form in darkness, was a young man, hair shaggy and shining with green tones in the light of the station. His hand was raised, the gun leveled with the Alien even as faint lines of smoke and vapor hung around the tip. Green eyes locked on the Alien, wide and almost feral.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m right fucking here.”

The Alien hissed and began to prowl, its eyeless gaze roving over the situation even as part of its mind said this was a trap.

CRACK.

Another bullet, this one dodged as the Alien shifted, swaying where it was perched in a growing pool of blood and gore from one of the corpses.

With a hiss, it decided that the green-eyed target wasn’t a threat, but that it was instead an annoying prey.

It lunged, bouncing off each wall as it lunged forwards at the doorway.

The gun tracked it, but didn’t fire, even as the Alien closed in; green eyes stayed locked on it, lips mouthing numbers as it watched it close.

And then, as the Alien moved into the perfect position to kill the annoyance, it’s other hand came up.

A ball of parts strung together around a bright red button, a light which had been unseen behind the teen flashing a bright baleful orange on the side.

Midoriya Izuku flung the arm with the gun up to block his face and threw himself back and down as the makeshift grenade of blasting caps, bonding agent, and scrap metal slammed into the Alien chest first. It barely had time to flinch back before the timer on it finally hit 0, and with a beep, all dozen of the blasting caps went off.

The explosion was deafening.

As was the scream of the Alien that rang throughout the station.

---

Now

Jirou glanced back, eyes widening as she took in the approaching Shouji.

Momo was already looking back, mouth opened to ask why the taller teen had returned.

His steps are too light, and the heartbeat I'm hearing isn’t his!

With a push, Jirou charged across the plaza, the sound of her running feet making Momo glance back, mouth opening to ask what was-

Behind her, the form of Shouji flickered, revealing a taller fox-eared teen who was already stepping forwards, arm swinging back to attack-

Kyouka was too far away, her warning leaving her lips too late for Momo to actually react to-

Maybe it was weeks of getting picked apart.

Maybe it was the constant strikes and reminders.

‘A blade is a tool, not your only weapon.’

So Kyouka found herself moving, her sword coming back even as she ran before she threw it.

The padded weapon spun like a baton, flashing past Momo and bringing a surprised gasp as it thudded hilt first into the other girl's stomach, giving Momo enough time to turn back, her stave coming up, the tip lashing out, only for the other teen to stagger back.

“Goddammit!”

She started backing up, but Kyouka’s jack snapped into the ground, and she began to send pulses across it, aiming straight at the imposter, throwing off her balance for just a second-

The stave came around and caught the fox girl in the ankle, tripping her.

With only a few seconds of effort, the girl was hogtied.

“Damn! I didn’t expect to have to deal with bondage!”

The snark was ignored, despite the hint of color rising in Momo’s cheeks.

Before Kyouka could explain or check with Momo on what to do, Present Mic’s voice interrupted.

“ONE MINUTE LEFT, LISTENERS!”

---

Then

Izuku shoved himself up, shaking his head to try and clear the ringing from his ears. His arms ached. He could feel beads of blood across his chest and arms, fragments of the shrapnel that had bounced or ricocheted around the room, but he had avoided the center of the blast, thankfully.

He couldn’t hear, but there was this incessant ringing that just wouldn’t stop. He knew that loud sounds in tight spaces was bad, but fuck.

It took a second, but his vision finally settled… and showed sprays of smoking metal just past where he lay.

Jerking, he rolled back and pushed to his feet, swaying as the room tried to spin around him, even as he glanced at the smoking metal.

In the center of where the Alien had been, a massive splash of hissing greenish fluid was eating through the deck.

Izuku scrambled back, cursing as he glanced at where the survivors had been, only to see that the two of them had long since ran off.

Not like Izuku could blame them.

He looked for his revolver, only to sigh at the fact it was sitting on the edge of the pool of acid, the barrel and most of the top half already deforming.

Stepping back from the entrance to the room, Izuku reached out, and, from where he had propped it earlier, lifted up a shorn-off support strut. Long, mostly straight, and with a wickedly twisted tip.

Better than nothing.

Reaching up, Izuku tapped to turn on his headlamp.

He wanted to see this as clearly as he could.

He navigated past the acid-formed hole carefully, testing each step with the butt of his makeshift spear as he moved to the far side.

Where the spray of acid revealed what had happened with the Alien.

And the fact that he hadn’t killed it.

A streak of twisted and melted metal and a human corpse that was currently half melting in acid was proof of that, the steaming trail leading to a wall vent.

He considered… no, he hoped, that it would crawl off into a corner somewhere and bleed out. He considered it for maybe five seconds, before cursing. It wasn’t dead, he hadn’t pinned its corpse to the wall.

Until he did that, he wasn’t safe or free.

He glanced over at the way back towards the tram line. His ride was probably here. For a moment, he considered exactly what his plan was going to be, panning his light over the various torn apart bodies around him.

However, something caught his eye.

He moved across the room, stepping around the pools of congealing blood where he could.

There, where one of the survivors had been run through…

Izuku reached down, and wrapped his hand around white metal, lifting it with a slow, careful motion.

“Well now… maybe this can deal with my little Working Joe problem.”

With a grin, Izuku hefted the shotgun up, eyes glinting as he considered just how to use it.

---

Now

“THE FINAL STRETCH IS HERE! TENSIONS ARE THROUGH THE ROOF! THE LONG FIGHT BETWEEN BAKUGOU AND TODOROKI IS AT A HEAD!”

Izuku let out a deep, relaxed breath, his sword held in a half hand grip. The hilt stretched out before him, the long ‘blade’ along his arm, as he knelt slightly, eyes locked on the path to the top.

He had been free of distractions, but he hadn’t been idle.

As the screens showed the countdown hitting 35 seconds, Izuku gave a sharp, piercing whistle, which was echoed by Kuro.

The black hawk had been circling above him this entire time. Watching. Waiting.

And on his command, the birds took flight from their roost around Koda, diving and swirling around the top of the throne.

One massive distraction: check.

Izuku was already moving.

His feet were silent, the motion revealing a feral efficiency as he shot faster and faster with each step, all but throwing himself up the narrow path to the very top of the hill.

30 seconds.

He reached the top going fast, but the end of the path had been sealed off with a thick layer of ice and frost.

His feet found a grip on the wall, and his forward momentum was conserved, as he kicked off, springing off the wall as he converted all his force from going forwards, to going up.

He cleared the first, sheer layer of ice, his gloved and taped hand and the edge of his sparring blade grabbing and hooking the ridge and snapping down, sending him twisting up higher, body twisting to keep momentum and lift himself higher, through the narrow gap between the flock of birds and the top of the ice wall.

He could nearly feel a wing rustle through his hair as he took in the arena he was entering.

Kacchan, his back to the throne and his hands steaming with use. The ground around him was blackened, a bombing range, surrounded by cracked and shattered ice.

Across from him, surrounded by ice in waves of shifting glaciers was Todoroki, his eyes locked on the throne with intensity.

25 seconds.

Izuku twisted, letting the landing from his entrance merely prime and compress the muscles in his leg and back.

He was silent, of course.

But that didn’t matter.

The throne was there.

The opponents were there.

And he was here.

An equation with a very simple solution.

He took off for Kacchan, his steps silent, fast, and loaded with intent.

And, just as he expected, Kacchan could feel it.

Before he entered the simulation, he would have said that Bakugou Katsuki had the greatest natural combat instinct of anyone he knew. He had always been able to read and react to the smallest bits of subconscious warning.

Right now, Izuku’s intent flaring like it was may as well be warning him with a foghorn to react.

Kacchan gave a half turn, a wide-eyed look of surprise, tinged with exhaustion and rage and annoyance.

20 seconds.

Todoroki was slower on the uptake, but even as Kacchan tried to turn and take a stance, the dichromatic teen was adjusting to take advantage of the explosive blond’s distraction.

Which was just as Izuku wanted.

“DEEEKKUUU!”

Kachhan was already picking up on the plan, screaming in rage as Izuku felt the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

And, just like he remembered, Kacchan started his signature opening strike.

A right hook.

Izuku knew he was moving… unbelievably fast for a normal person. He could feel it in the way his heart raced and blood pumped. In the stretch and thud of his leg muscles as he sprinted like this, he felt the first slow tears of leg muscles as he pushed himself beyond a normal limit...

Bakugou’s fist swung out, wide, a crushing blow that would take nearly anyone out.

And Izuku stepped in, hooked it in his own arm, and twisted with it, hitting the hollow of Bakugou’s arm before he could trigger his strike, making the taller teen flinch back.

Kacchan could only flail, off-balance, as Izuku pulled his arm into a twisted version of an arm lock, the two spinning in a bastardized dance while Izuku kept only a bare inch of movement from a position that would have snapped his elbow like a twig.

Instincts long since ingrained in Bakugou triggered; the emotion of being off guard was anathema to Bakugou Katsuki, after all. He was never really able to let someone else take the initiative.

So Kacchan did what he always did when being pressured.

He fired off his quirk.

The same quirk that Izuku had just aimed dead on at a rushing, unprepared, Todoroki.

The icy teen had overextended to take advantage of Bakugou’s last-minute distraction.

Izuku had expected that too.

15 seconds.

So when Kacchan exploded, Izuku was already releasing the arm and rolling out of the line of fire, leaving only Todoroki with a hastily raised wall of ice to take the blast.

And for Kacchan to curse as the recoil of the blast nearly dislocated his shoulder from the awkward positioning.

The pain was so intense, actually, that he didn’t see the smoke twist, Izuku’s red boot slamming out of the darkness to kick his knee out from under him.

Izuku had stepped right back into the line of fire between the two others.

And with his back to Todoroki Shouto… the temperamental son of Endeavor took it as a slight and fired off a small glacier.

Izuku twisted around it with careless grace, only for Bakugou’s counter of an explosive rising punch that had been aimed at the green teen to impact and turn it to diamond dust that filled the air.

The issue with relying on quirks-

Izuku spun back, free hand smacking Bakugou off balance by slamming an open palm into the side of his head, right over the blond’s ear.

Meanwhile, his blade slid in his grip until the hilt was once more firmly grasped before the flat side slammed into Todoroki’s aiming hand, throwing it wide.

-is that you become blind to the other threats.

Above him, the birds screeched and chirped and quacked. A barrier to keep others from trying to get closer, to keep the fight contained.

The blast of ice that was meant to end the fight became another expenditure of energy, only freezing a massive chunk of the wall thicker and wider.

Ten seconds.

Izuku ducked a wild swing from Kacchan, feeling the shift of air even as his eyes locked on Todoroki with a smirk that tightened the teen’s features in barely contained rage.

As he did, Izuku saw it, just what he wanted.

A flicker of ember and heat and spark around Todoroki’s left side.

And the look of shock as he realized what he was doing.

Izuku wasn’t fucking blind, after all. He knew that Todoroki had issues with his fire, deep-seated and psychological. And with the teen likely half-frozen as it was, the primal urge to get warm would make him reach for the fire.

As the flame petered out around the teen’s arm, his face a mixture of shock, fear, anger, and remorse, Izuku was already moving.

He ducked and twisted, following like a shadow as Bakugou finally whirled around…

He could almost imagine the blond's face as he realized he now face to face with Todoroki… while Izuku was now behind him, at the edge of the throne.

Three…

A single push kick sent the blonde staggering, right into the still unstable teen.

Two…

An almost elegant twist, and he came to rest in the throne, the birds who had been flocking and cawing above him beginning to alight on the stone monolith of the throne's backing.

One.

He leaned back with a sigh, one leg coming up to cross over the other, ankle resting on his knee as he placed the tip of the blade on the ground to the side of the throne, his fingers resting on the crossguard to steady it.

The bell rang, Bakugou and Todoroki only barely untangling from their collision.

“WHAT A PLAY! IN A LAST MINUTE BLITZ, MIDORIYA IZUKU, THE DARK HORSE OF 1-A, HAS TAKEN THE THRONE!”

Izuku let the screams of Present Mic fade, his eyes locking on the pair across from him.

He met their eyes with a steady gleam, tinged with sadistic humor.

“You two did want a war.”

Chapter 33: Side Quests

“That's the kid from the simulation, right?”

The screen was replaying the last fight of the round, slowed down so the Heroes could take in the teen’s movements despite the cluster of birds that kept breaking up the image. Around it, several heroes had gathered, interested in the teen.

“He’s got skills, that’s for sure.”

Tilting his head at the back of the group, Edgeshot hummed to himself. His eyes were focused not on the replay of the fight, but the live feed of the students gathering up after the Hill sank back into the ground.

The green-haired victor was standing among some of his peers, arms crossed and training swords slung back across his back.

Edgeshot had been watching the teen since early on in the festival, picking up on his skills at maneuvering the obstacle course, and being further intrigued by the teen’s combat ability in the second round.

‘He would be a good pick… but so would the other one.’ He glanced at another screen, this one replaying Jirou Kyouka as she defended her point. ‘Smart, strong sensory ability, and a precision quirk. The blade work she’s using is basic, but can be improved.’

As Edgeshot kept weighing the options, he became aware of the shorter hero approaching his side.

“Yo, Edgeshot. What’s the deal with the winner?”

“‘The deal,’ Miruko?”

The rabbit hero gave him an annoyed look. “Everyone keeps talking about some simulation thing. What the fuck is that?”

Blinking, Edgeshot began to explain.

And as he did, Miruko’s grin simply became more and more interested and aggressive.

‘Hmm… I almost feel sorry for him.’

---

Then

Izuku hefted the empty whisky bottle he had found in the tram station, leaning against the side of the doorway. He could hear the distant sound of someone cursing as they tried to work on the elevator.

Hefting the bottle, Izuku took aim.

And then threw it.

With a shatter, a gunshot, and a lot of swearing, the girl working on the door took off.

‘Right…’ He waited for the footsteps to start to fade. ‘Now.’

Izuku sprinted out and at the door, skidding to a stop to grab the security tuner, before turning and taking off for the door to engineering. He took the steps three at a time, leaped over a chair in his way, and slammed into the door control before the distant sounds of shouting voices started echoing.

By the time they showed back up with guns, Izuku was already moving down the stairs towards maintenance. He headed for the office, snagged the medical kit and handgun from the counter, and moved on.

‘Revolver, medkit, and the incomplete tuner. Check check check. And hell, I didn’t even get shot this time.’ Turning from the desk, Izuku checked the revolver. ‘Six in the cylinder. Perfect, and even comes with the holster again.’

Izuku attached the holster to his belt and slid the revolver away before tucking the medkit in his pocket.

“Right... Next is the supply room. With the Alien fucked up back on the other tower, I should be fine… for a while, anyway.”

Izuku headed deeper into maintenance.

While his bypass would work on most doors, he didn’t want to test it on the elevator and risk the entire thing locking up… or falling down the shaft while he was in it.

---

Now

Kyouka was looking at the scoreboard with nervous excitement.

“And here it is! OUR FINAL SIXTEEN!” Present Mic’s voice rang out over the crowd before the screens shifted to show the names of everyone who was still in the running. “If you were expecting another 1A shutout, you lost that bet! Nearly half of our continuing students are from Classes 1B! In addition to two dark horses from General Education 1-C and Support 1-H! This fight to see which class is on top is just heating up!”

Bakugou Katsuki

Rin Hiryu

Iida Tenya

Jirou Kyouka

Kirishima Eijiro

Fukidashi Manga

Hatsume Mei

Midoriya Izuku

Monoma Neito

Tokage Setsuna

Shinsou Hitoshi

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

Todoroki Shoto

Tokoyami Fumikage

Uraraka Ochako

Yaoyorozu Momo

Kyouka blinked before grinning. “We made it!”

Midoriya and Momo both nodded. Koda grinned next to them; even though he had decided not to move onto the tournament, his showing had not gone unseen.

As they all smiled, the list of names slid out of sight, revealing Present Mic on the video feed once more. “We’ve got one more event, Midnight! SPIN THAT WHEEL!”

Kyouka focused as the lever was pulled. She was almost positive this was just for show, but UA loved to throw curveballs…

And, just as she started to get worried, the wheel slowed and came to a stop.

HIGH STAKES TAG!

She blinked, and it stayed up for just a second, before the screen cracked.

“WHO ARE WE TRYING TO FOOL! THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE OPTION! THE YEAR ONE TOURNAMENT!!!!”

The crowd went absolutely feral, and Jirou winced at the shouting before the cracked screen exploded outwards, revealing a new, larger screen rising from the ground.

And on it, there were the first round brackets.

Her eyes traced over names, before slowing, blood draining from her face.

The final fight of the first round…

Jirou Kyouka VS Todoroki Shoto.

“Ah… Fuck.”

Momo bumped into her, looking concerned. “I’m… sure we can come up with a plan?”

Jirou glanced to see Momo’s own fight.

Yaoyorozu Momo VS Tokoyami Fumikage.

“Yeah, uh… we’ll figure something out.”

“I KNOW YOU ALL WANT TO SEE THE FIGHTS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! But, let me tell you, it’s been a long morning for our students! We’re gonna take a break, but when we’re back, THE FIGHTS ARE ON! Until then… a message from our sponsors!”

While some the crowd gave groans, there was a general air of good cheer, and Jirou tried to think past her racing heartbeat.

‘What the hell can I do against him!?’

---

Then

Izuku clicked the last of the components for the Tuner back together. There was now a hook where he could clip it to his belt, and the tuner itself had been given a once over to make sure it was secured and solid. Putting the notebook with the diagrams he had copied away, he slid the security access drive into the slot at the bottom of the Tuner with a resounding click.

Tapping the button, the scanner gave off a beep, and he scrolled through the settings, making sure everything looked right after his little tune-up and modifications.

With a nod, he clipped it to his belt and began to gather up the other devices that sat around his workspace.

A half dozen noisemakers, a pair of flashbangs, and a new tool he had found a blueprint for.

He held the smoke bomb up and looked over it.

“These will be useful.”

Beyond that, he had taken some time to adjust his design, adding simple metal clips to each of his grenades so that he could carry them easier. However, he did need places to hook them.

Standing up, he snagged the straps he had cut from another bag he had found and had already combined and connected with the last of his bonding agents.

The harness was really simple, a pair of straps that wrapped from his belt to over his shoulders like a pair of overalls. They crossed at his back to keep from falling off his shoulders, and with his actual bag keeping everything in line, gave him plenty of places to hook the gear he had gathered.

Taking his time, Izuku sorted and got all his gear stashed away.

When he was done, he picked up the makeshift spear, now wrapped with electrical tape and the tip sharpened, and slid it to rest along with the bag on his back. He had even taken the workshop’s grinder to the back half, shortening it to just a two-foot length. Enough to jab with, but not have to worry about getting caught in the vents that easily.

“Right. Gear has been acquired. Now… what the hell is waiting up in medical…”

As Izuku opened the door out to the rest of the maintenance hall, and where the security lockdown was waiting, he felt a shiver of… something.

He paused, but when he didn’t hear or see anything that seemed out of place, he started walking, shotgun held up and at the ready.

Five minutes later, the security lockdown ended without any nasty surprises, and he was heading back up to the elevator.

But he could still feel it. An itch at the base of his skull.

Something is watching.

---

Now

Izuku let the ache of his muscles as they knit and healed linger in the back of his mind, as he and his small coterie of friends headed for the cafeteria.

He was silently considering how to help out Jirou. Yaoyorozu’s fight was something he expected she could handle. Tokoyami had plenty of weaknesses that could be exploited, and Momo could make plenty of useful tools to take advantage of them.

But Todoroki…

Izuku had plans for facing him. Had theories that he could only confirm by actually getting in a fight with the two-toned teen.

None of those plans could easily be used by Jirou.

Flexing his fingers he felt the weight of the gloves, the thick red material hiding his modifications while the wrapped bandages supported and reinforced his own muscles. He was fairly sure that he should have broken at least one knuckle in the fight with 1B, and he was more than satisfied that his fingers only felt strained and bruised.

As the crowd of students started reaching the cafeteria, he glanced around to see Todoroki and Kacchan walk away from the crowd, taking a turn into a side hallway.

For a split second, the green-haired teen considered foul play, before he picked up on the subtle tension between them.

‘Hmm… they aren’t planning to fight. But Todoroki has things to say. Some form of confession? Laying his cards on the table?’

Blinking as he felt a slow surge of laconic amusement, Izuku stepped faster, falling into Jirou’s side.

‘Jeez… you’re tense.’

The punk girl was pale, her shoulders and back stiff and locked up with tension. Her steps were steady, but only because she wasn’t focused on what was going on.

Izuku twitched his fingers, wondering what he should do to help, when the flash of a lyric came to mind. He had quite an eclectic music taste, but he was almost positive she had heard this one.

He gently started humming, taking a second to get the beat right, before he bumped shoulders with Jirou, and when she blinked and looked his way, he hummed a bit louder, bumping into her shoulder gently to the tune of the beat.

It took a few seconds, but Jiro slowly blinked.

“Are… are you humming Smash Mouth?”

Izuku grinned and stepped back, shifting and flowing as Jirou tried to poke him.

“What the fuck Midoriya? Walking on the sun?”

The quirk of her lips and the way her body language was slowly loosening only made Izuku give a manic smile. Momo and Koda had looked back with confusion as Izuku started singing softly.,

“Hey now, you’re an All-Star. Get your game on, go play.”

His voice wasn’t perfectly in tune and he was keeping it low, but the fact that he was singing meme music that had been around for over two centuries had apparently caught Jirou off guard. He watched as color come back to her face, the flush of confusion and annoyance replacing her fear.

“Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid.”

“Stop, please! I can’t take it! No more!” Jirou tried to lunge, hands reaching out to physically make Izuku stop singing.

Unfortunately, Izuku was just a bit too fast for her, keeping a half step ahead of her rush as he circled around a now giggling Yaoyorozu and Koda.

“All that glitters is gold, Only shooting stars break the mold~”

Judging that she wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack anymore, Izuku slowed for a step and let Jirou slap her hand over his mouth.

“Please, for the love of god, I can only take so much!”

Izuku tilted his head, leaning slightly into her touch so she could feel the shape of his quirked lips.

“Hmmmfhfhafjhjfakjh” He hummed into her palm, and she scowled before pulling her hand back.

“What?”

Izuku paused for a second, considering his words. He knew what she needed to hear, but now how to phrase it… perhaps… “You need to abandon your fear, Jirou. It’s not going to help you here. Win or lose, it’s the effort that matters.”

And with that, he twisted and slipped through the door into the cafeteria, leaving a wide-eyed Jirou, and an equally surprised Yaoyorozu and Koda to follow after him.

---

Then

Izuku coughed, even as his eyes focused on the Tuner. It was only a few seconds to hack through the door control, but the sounds of gunshots ringing out behind him made him flinch every time.

A paired flashbang and smoke bomb had gotten him to the elevator, but the survivors were apparently panicking and shooting at anything that moved.

With a click, the door hissed open, and Izuku darted through. A slam of his fist on the button and the doors started to close, but not before he heard a shout.

“HE'S IN THE ELEVATOR!”

‘Well fuck, going back is gonna suck.’

He leaned back against the side of the elevator. Pulling out his notebook, he considered the map once more.

I needed the tuner to unlock the elevators, but with the survivors, and possibly the Alien, blocking off my way back, I need another way to reach the medical facility… There's a tram from the APOLLO core to San Cristobal, where the medical facility is. To get there… I just need to pass through the Communication area.

With a slow breath, Izuku double-checked his ammo count.

Revolver: six rounds in the gun, and another dozen in a pocket.

Shotgun: four in the gun, and only five more in his pockets.

He was going to need to make every round he used count… and that meant he couldn’t waste any shot he could get away with.

He breathed deep as the elevator came to a stop.

“Right. Let’s try this again.”

With a hiss, the doors opened, and Izuku walked out into Seegson Communications.

---

Now

In the crowd of the cafeteria, most of the groups had split up. Kyouka was still shocked and somewhat off-balance, Izuku’s words replaying in her head. As she got her food and joined up with Momo at a table, she couldn’t help but be lost in thought.

Win or lose, it doesn’t matter…

That was obvious, right? She wasn’t a physical fighter, so why did she care about the tournament matches.

But, at the same time…

It’s the effort that matters.

How the hell did Midoriya know how to cut through all her thoughts like that? He did it all the time, the gleam of dark eyes before he spoke wisdom that was just so simple. It wasn’t some grand declaration from a sage on high, wasn’t couched in layers of riddles and half explained concepts. Midoriya could stare at something, and just say things that made sense.

It was almost like Midoriya himself, in a way.

He didn’t need to hide anything he thought about. From that first day fighting, when they were locked in the USJ together, he had been nothing but genuine. He cut through bullshit like he didn’t even see it. All her fears, the rising anxiety of her fight with Todoroki, the self-doubt… in one sentence Izuku may as well have just burned it all away, cutting through with the sheer confidence and intent he wore like a comfortable jacket. She saw it when he trained her and Momo. He didn’t care about excuses or what-ifs. He explained his strikes and the reasons and pushed her and Momo to fight without hesitation.

As she collected her thoughts, she felt herself… settle. She was going to fight Todoroki… So what if she ended up taken out if he pinned her in a glacier or froze her? She just has to do her best.

As she felt her resolve firm up, she finished off her lunch and glanced at Momo, who had been quiet to let her collect herself, eating her own calorie-heavy lunch.

“Midoriya gives the weirdest pep talks.”

Clearly, Momo wasn’t ready for that, given how she snorted in amusement, hands coming to her face as she tried to hold in a snicker.

After a second, she collected herself, lips still twitching like she wanted to giggle. “He really does, doesn’t he.”

As the two of them carried their lunch trays to the drop-off, they were hailed by Mineta and Kaminari.

“Yaoyorozu, Jirou.”

The class president turned, blinking at the pair. “Yeah, do you need anything?”

“I’m sure you already know, ‘cause you’re the class rep, but they said all the girls need to wear those uniforms for the big cheer battle this afternoon.” Mineta pointed at a couple of upperclass students who were walking nearby, wearing vibrant orange and green cheerleading outfits.

Jirou twitched, then blushed. She was not a cheerleader uniform kind of person, thank you… very… much.

“That’s odd, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

She focused on the flicker in Mineta’s heartbeat.

“You don’t have to believe me if you want to get in trouble. I heard it straight from Mister Aizawa…”

‘Oh, that little fucking liar.’

She waited for the pair to walk off before she grabbed Momo’s arm and pulled her in close.

“He was lying.”

“Wait, really? But… I mean, those students do have those uniforms?”

A third voice spoke up, both glancing to see Midoriya leaning in from Jirous’s other side.

“Those girls are part of the official UA cheerleading team. Not normal students.”

As both girls blinked at the green teen’s sudden appearance, standing huddled with them, a thick green smoothie in his hand as he sipped at it.

Jirou let a glimmer of sadism color her thoughts as she glanced at the retreating forms of Kaminari and Mineta.

‘Those boys want a sexy cheerleader? I think they should get one.’

“Hey, Midoriya, you up for helping me pull a little prank?”

The quirk of his lips was amused and mischievous.

“By all means, how can I help?”

---

Then

Izuku rubbed at his shoulder, wincing at the ache that he had. Apparently, shooting a shotgun was not that fucking easy. He glanced down at the twitching form of the Working Joe that had killed Hughes, and slid out his spike, stabbing down and twisting to remove the last of the synth's head.

With a last twist, the body seized and stopped moving.

Sliding the spike free, Izuku winced at the dripping white fluid, and gave the weapon a shake before wiping it on the synths jumpsuit.

With a sigh, Izuku stripped Hughes of his engineering badge and gun once more, rummaging through his pockets for spare bullets.

He ignored the ethics of what he was doing, or how it would look.

‘There’s a time for respect, and there’s a time for pragmatism.’

Izuku stood up, sliding his spike back into his bag and lifting his shotgun up, scowling as his shoulder ached from where he rested it. Taking a moment, he loaded another shell into it, bringing it back up to four rounds.

“I’m going to break a bone or something learning to shoot this, I swear,” Izuku muttered, before slinging the shotgun back over his shoulder. With all his gear back together, Izuku stretched his shoulder, rolling it to try and help with the ache of the recoil.

Glancing down the hall at the security camera, Izuku started following the tubes leading from its casing along the corner of the hallway,

“Now… where oh where is that access panel…”

---

Now

Kyouka grinned at Momo as the two of them left the girls’ bathroom they had taken over for half an hour. With a smirk, Jirou sent a message to Koda.

Jacks: Send the pervert our way.

It took barely two minutes before the perverted giggles of Mineta came charging down the hall, only to skid to a stop, eyes wide as he glanced over the girls.

“Bwah, where’s the cheerleader outfits?”

Momo smiled. “Oh, we just wanted to get your opinion on it first! We even got a lovely model for it!”

And with that cue, the door to the girls’ restroom opened once more and out stepped something that should not be as sexy as it was.

Bright red colored sneakers and knee-high socks stretched up slender, muscled legs. A thin line of absolutely pale, smooth skin reached up beneath a vibrant orange and white skirt, which hung to nearly the knees. The skirt seemed to almost emphasize the shape of the hips and waist.

Above the skirt, a strip of pale-skinned stomach was seen, and along with it was clearly shaped abs. The slender, sleeveless shirt was loose but gave a vaguely feminine shape to the upper torso. Biceps that seemed to be carved from steel stretched from under the red fighting gloves and pale shoulders shifted and flexed, leading up to the curtain of dark green hair. From the collar of the shirt, the pale skin of the neck led up, a thick green and gold choker hiding an Adam’s apple and accentuating the sharp chin and jawline.

Messy curls were pulled back into a low ponytail, the gleam of several bobby pins showing where it had been shaped for best effect. However, there were still bangs falling over the left side, almost concealing the gleam of a dark eye. Blood red lips with the faintest gleam of purple and perfectly winged eyeliner stared out from the other side, with freckles only enhanced and darkened with faint touches of makeup. Cheeks and skin tone hadn’t been turned rosy and cheerful but instead had been lightened and frosted, making a normally pale complexion all but vampiric.

For a moment, as Midoriya Izuku looked out from his makeover, his eyes seemed to almost burn with lust and sadism, bringing a darkly amused quirk to his lips. He looked just on the feminine side of androgynous, his slender form and tightly coiled musculature bringing the idea of a viper to mind.

And then he spoke.

“What’s the problem, Minoru? I thought you could take it.”

Kyouka felt a shudder up her spine. Izuku’s voice had taken a raspy, hushed tone, and even his vocal pitch was suddenly in the more feminine range.

Now, Jirou wasn’t going to lie. She was definitely bisexual and proud of it. But there was a sheer difference between her occasional long glance at Izuku’s ass when he trained with her, and the way that her throat had suddenly gone bone dry.

She glanced at Mineta and nearly choked.

Because the teen had a bloody nose, had gone absolutely pale, and then passed out.

She couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, barely noticing how Kaminari, who had been coming down the hall, was blushing up a storm.

‘God, I love my friends.’ Kyouka glanced back and smiled, meeting Izuku’s eyes for a second. As the teen glanced away, he stared down at Mineta with a gaze that screamed of disdain.

“You okay in that outfit?” Momo was still slightly nervous about this. While her anger at Mineta trying to trick them had been intense, her worry about Izuku’s part in this hadn’t been easy to dissuade.

Izuku glanced down, one eyebrow raised in consideration as he gave a stretch. Kyouka had to bite her lip at the way that made his abs stand out.

“Hmm… I like the skirt, actually. Not a big fan of the sleeveless top, but it’s not terrible. I stand by my argument against heels though. That screams of being impractical and stupid.”

Momo seemed to be relieved at that, before tensing back up. “And the make-up doesn’t itch or-”

“Yaoyorozu. I’m fine with it. I don’t care to do it myself, but I also don’t hate it or anything.” He did rub his lips together slightly, the gleam of red clear. “Wish that the lipstick tasted a bit better. The rest of it actually feels kinda nice. Something new.”

Jirou felt the truth as she took in how steady Izuku’s pulse was, and blinked slightly.

Huh… that’s something to ask about later.

As the three of them headed back into the bathroom, leaving a flustered and confused Kaminari to clean up the passed-out pervert, Izuku reached for his gear and headed for a stall.

“Wait, one more thing.” Momo blushed and held up her phone. “Umm… Can we take some pictures?”

Izuku gave a slight smirk, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Sure.”

---

Then

Izuku slammed through the door with a curse before turning and firing the revolver back out of the passage behind him, tearing through one of the last two Synths in the knee. As the droid staggered, he slammed the door control shut and fumbled through his pockets for the last three shotgun shells he had. One of them went bouncing away, and Izuku cursed, taking a breath before sliding the last two home with a resounding click.

Of the four Synths back in the main area, three of them were dead or close enough for kicks. But he missed one shot, and then he got flanked by that fifth one from the side room.

His arm was also really fucking sore right now.

Behind him, the door opened, and he spun around, shotgun coming up as the Synths started marching in.

Izuku sighted and pulled.

One synth’s head exploded, splattering the wall with white flecks.

Izuku pulled the slide, ejecting the spent cartridge as the second came for him. He sighted, and pulled.

And the Synth shifted.

A half twist of its torso meant that the shot only caught it across its shoulder, ripping up its cheek as it staggered.

Shit.

Izuku dropped the shotgun and lunged over the nearest computer console, rolling to his feet on the far side, yanking the short spear from his back and hefting it.

As the Synth tilted its head to track him, he took a breath and paced around the console, watching as it began to stride for him.

He just needed one solid strike…

The Synth rounded the corner, and Izuku lunged.

He hit the Synth in the chest, tackling it back and to the console, ignoring as one of its arms came up to grab at him, as he brought his arm back and slammed the spike into its neck.

The Synth latched onto his throat, but Izuku ignored it, using both his hands to grab onto the spike and twisting.

He ignored the pain of not being able to breathe, focusing on using the spike like a lever. Just as his vision started to blur, the spike gave way, and with a squelch, the head of the Synth dropped to the floor.

Pushing himself up, Izuku gasped, breathing deeply as he tried to wipe the white smears off his arms.

“Fuck… all of you. Seriously.”

He pulled the spear free, scowling at how the once straight spike was now bent and warped. With a sigh, he tossed it aside.

“Now… What the hell were you all hiding up here.”

Izuku glanced around and paused. There, in the back of the room, a flashing screen got his attention.

Incoming Message.

---

Now

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT’S TIME! FOR THE YEAR ONE TOURNAMENT!!!”

Present Mic’s voice rang out through the crowd, most of whom had left their seats during the break, either to get some food or just stretch their legs. As they all cheered, having returned or rushing to reach their seats before the fight began, the screens all showed the arena.

A square stage in the center of the arena. Unlike the previous year, this one was more than just a flat plane. Sixteen large concrete blocks, easily two meters tall and a meter across, were evenly spaced in a four by four grid around the center of the arena.

“You’ve all been wonderfully patient, so I believe it’s time to announce our first match! From Class 1-B, a recommended student who survived and showed they were more than skilled last match, the lady of many parts! TOKAGE SETSUNA!”

From the eastern side of the field, the green-haired girl stepped out, waving and smiling at the cheers of the crowd.

“And on the other side, THE KING OF THE CASTLE! THE DARK HORSE OF 1-A, MIDORIYA IZUKU!”

Izuku stepped out with his sparring sword held at his side. Between matches, he had retaped it, and now it rested in his grip as he strode out. He had changed back into his tall red boots and the UA tracksuit. His hair was still held in a ponytail from where the girls had set it, but his bangs had been plaited and woven back along the side of his skull, keeping them from getting in his way. For that matter, he had washed most of his makeup off, leaving the gleam of lipstick and the faint markings of eyeliner untouched.

As he strode onto the stage, he flexed and spun the blade in his grip.

Dark green eyes met. A feral smile and a dead-eyed stare.

Midnight spoke up from her referee stand.

“FIGHTERS READY?!”

To the cheers of the crowd, Izuku gave a nod, while Setsuna gave a thumbs up.

“BEGIN!”

Chapter 34: Motion Tracking

The match started, and Midoriya rushed. For a split second, Tokage was caught off guard by his ferocity.

But as he closed the difference, already halfway across the arena, sword drifting back and primed for a strike, she reacted, lunging forwards to meet him even as she began to use her quirk, hiding it under the cover of her sports uniform until the last second.

When the first strike made contact, it went through her waist, ripping and separating the torso from the hips, until the jacket was torn free with a loud ripping sound.

As she spun and drifted up, Midoriya stopped and pivoted, the shredded jacket falling to the ground as he gave a casual swing of his sword.

Tokage smirked down at him, even as she let her arms drift free and sent her legs running off into the cover of the concrete blocks. She herself was wearing a sleeveless top made of the same material as her hero costume, which could split with her quirk, and would stay attached to her skin. “Surprised? Your sword is useless against me!”

All she got was a disinterested glance, before he took off once more, strafing slightly as he closed in. Rolling her eyes, she drifted another meter up.

“Seriously. You can’t even reach-”

Three steps rang out like gunshots.

She barely had time to split her head from her neck before the blade came whistling through the gap.

Eyes wide, she tried to catch up to what just happened.

He had strafed for one of the stone pillars, before running up. Two steps on the side, and a third that had flung him skyward.

But- she was almost five meters up! What the fuck?

As she tried to twist, head spinning around, she felt a tug as something wrapped around her torso and yanked.

As her head was left floating, she could see it.

The long loop of red bandage that had caught around her torso.

The same bandage that even now dragged behind Midoriya’s gloved free hand like a streamer of blood.

She focused, splitting her torso around the-

Even as Midoriya hit the ground, he twisted, all his falling momentum dragging the torso like a sling until it crashed into the ground.

The pain of impact made her gasp, even as the torso split and flew up, two parts floating away and zig-zagging to avoid a slash of the blade.

Gritting her teeth, she sent her arms flying at him, splitting her hands from the rest of their limbs and forming two disembodied fists.

Izuku stood, twisting his wrist in an almost bored manner as he wound the cloth back around his hand.

Two hands, two elbows, chest, stomach, head, and lower body. I can only do another five splits, and sooner or later I need to recombine. I have to hit him hard and fast!

Her hands and elbows slammed at him in a storm of strikes, sending him dancing and dodging back into the center of the arena.

But… nothing actually hit the other teen.

His blade swept up to catch an elbow strike before he twisted under a reaching hand, lashing out to knock another fist away. Each movement was made with feral grace, and his eyes kept glancing up at her, meeting her gaze even as she rose higher, to nearly seven meters, her eyes focused on the fight below even as the teen lashed and danced between strikes. With frustration and a time limit, she focused and sent her chest and stomach careening in at him, swinging in large rings to smash him off balance.

The sting of the training sword against her stomach made her flinch and snarl with pain before she sent her legs running out from where they had been crouched behind a pillar.

She didn’t notice the smirk that twitched Midoriya’s lips until it was too late.

---

Then

“-essel USCSS Torrens, registration number MSV-7760, calling Sevastopol traffic control. We are carrying two passengers on a Weyland-Yutani bond. You’re holding the Nostromo Flight Recorder Unit. We request immediate permission to transfer the passengers port-side, over…”

Izuku glanced over the console, reaching out to grab the headset and pulling it on, leaning into the console as another voice came in over the coms… coming from the marshal headquarters? Izuku froze, waiting…

“This is Waits, Colonial Marshal at Sevastopol Station. We have a serious situation here.”

Izuku winced at the screech of interference, before-

“Hello? Marshal? This is the Torrens? Say again?”

Shit.

Punching in, Izuku spoke up. “Torrens! This is Sevastopol. The station is currently under quarantine procedures! Maintain distance, I repeat, Maintain distance!”

“Sevastopol, we can’t hear you! We’re coming in closer to try and reestablish comms. Contact you soon, Out.”

The ship's signal cut out and Izuku swore.

Loudly.

“What the fuck! Who the hell is on this-”

<p>“Midoriya Izuku, engineer, first class. I’ve only just cleared off the communications deck.” Izuku glanced around and started looking through the settings.

“I ain't ever met a Midoriya. Where the hell have you been?”

Izuku blinked before he started to bullshit. “Sir, with all due respect? I found a hidey hole and stayed out of the way until I ran out of food. I barely know what the fuck is going on.”

“Goddamnit… I can’t blame you for that. What’s your situation?”

Izuku glanced back. “There's a group of scavengers in the Seegson atrium. I was trying to get some supplies and head to medical to figure out what was going on. However, the only way there right now is the tram from Apollo to Synthetics.”

“What? Have you seen a man named Hughes? I sent him to reestablish communications a few hours ago.”

Izuku swore quietly. “Hughes is dead, sir. A Synth got him.”

“Excuse me? Did you say a Synth, son?”

Izuku paused. “Wait, do you not know?”

”Know what?”

“The Synths are killing people!”

---

Now

Izuku ducked a reaching hand and skipped back, letting the sweep of an elbow pass him by before he twisted under a charge of the stomach. His sword danced forwards as he rammed it into the reaching knee, adjusting his swing so the disembodied limb slammed into the nearest concrete pillar.

Izuku heard the impact but was too busy twisting around Setsuna’s breasts as they tried to brain him.

‘That’s almost a funny way to die. Death by boobs. What a concept.’

He shifted back and with a smooth twist, swapped his sword to his off hand as he slapped Setsuna’s ass as it tried to kick him, drawing a yelp from the flying head.

In his off hand, a twist of his wrist and the hilt of the sword went unnoticed.

“I could have sworn you were saying something earlier,” Izuku called out, ducking and swiping another grasping hand away, leaping over a tripping elbow, and using her stomach as a stepping point to land on one of the blocks of cover, placing him just under five meters from the floating head. “That I couldn’t touch you… But that seems to be pretty wrong so far.”

He caught her narrow-eyed stare even as he ducked, swiping out to knock away a flying elbow, his gloved hand smashing it out of his way with something akin to disdain.

‘Watch the emotion… track the words.’

“In fact,” Izuku let an amused tone drift into his voice. “I would say you’re the one with a reach problem. Namely” —a kick sent the swinging fist skipping through the air at the floating head, barely slowing before she all but clocked herself in the head —“that you can’t land a hit.”

He reached out and snagged the elbow that shot towards him, wrapping it in an iron grip. Lifting it, he glanced at the skin tone. The pale, almost bluish tone. The faint chill.

“Your time limit is almost up. It’s about five minutes right? Before cell death starts to happen.”

He smiled, almost cruelly, as her eyes widened and skin went pale.

The floating pieces of Setsuna broke away from harassing him, gathering in a loose approximation of her body on the far side of the arena.

Izuku let the elbow free, seeing it speed back into place as her limbs sealed back together.

He doubted most people would see it… but she lost circulation when her quirk was used. The familiar pale blue tinge of cells not getting enough oxygen was painfully familiar.

‘Even if she regenerates like she did after Bakugou’s attack… it takes time. Time where she can’t risk splitting again.’

“How the hell did you realize that?” Setsuna had lost that pride and veneer of superiority she had opened with. Instead, her eyes were wide, her voice shaken. ‘She is afraid of my knowledge. Doesn't know how I learned it. Is off balance. Distracted.’

Izuku merely gave a dark smile.

“Personal experience.”

And then he leaped forwards, his off hand came around and threw his sword like a buzzsaw, the trailing red of his bandage tied to the handle as Setsuna swore, and dove off the pillar, barely avoiding the taped up bar before it could break her arm.

She hit the ground and rolled up.

Into perfect melee range.

He met her when she rose from the ground.

A knee to the solar plexus knocked the wind out of her.

An open palm to the ear disoriented her, making her shout in pain as he knocked her off balance. Growling, she threw a punch, trying to get space.

The yank of his hand brought the red strip of bandage wrapping around her wrist, and then he spun, using the force to swing around the outside of her guard even as he reached up. Using the momentum of his twist to drag her off balance even more, he sent her stumbling.

She twisted to come face to face with him, only to catch the swing of the sword he had caught on it’s return.

As she wheezed, the breath knocked out of her once more, he kicked her knee out from under her, and twisted.

As the red wrapping on her wrist came loose, Setsuna slammed into the ground and rolled, coming to a stop just inside the edge of the ring.

Gasping, she staggered pushing up to her feet, only to look up at the sound of Izuku’s steps.

The ringing of metal on stone was threatening.

And as she met his eyes, taking in his focus, her skin crawled.

“What the hell are-”

She never finished her sentence, as Midoriya swung the sword up, and thrust-

The tip barely touched her throat.

But the sheer menace that wreathed him made her stagger back.

Out of bounds.

“AND WITH A STUNNING DISPLAY OF SKILL, MIDORIYA IZUKU WINS, KNOCKING TOKAGE SETSUNA OUT OF BOUNDS!”

As the cheers rose around the stadium, Izuku stared down. Dead green eyes stared into Setsuna’s far more fearful gaze.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the monster of 1-A.” For a moment, Izuku let the leash off his killing intent, just a little, letting her body lock up in sheer terror. A deep breath seemed to quiet the very air, muffling the crowd as for a moment, he felt that surge of intent. And then he exhaled, and let the focus disperse around him, the shadow of intent vanishing.

Slinging the sword across his back, Izuku walked off, idly rewrapping his extra bandage back up around his left arm.

“Good fight. Better luck next year.”

---

Then

“Fucking hell, kid. The APOLLO core should be keeping shit in line! Fuck, none of my men are anywhere near it... “

Izuku glanced at the map in his notebook, next to where he had been transcribing the conversation so far.

“Sir, I’m passing through it anyway. I can check it out.”

“You need an engineering level three access pass to reach the actual AI core kid. For fuck’s sake, Hughes was only level two.”

Izuku swore at that, and bit at his lip, looking over his notes. “I might be able to bypass the door... But I can’t tell until I get there.”

“Best option we have so far. You got a headset, kid?”

“Yeah, been keeping it off, but I can set it up.”

A few minutes of setting up a secure channel, and Izuku slid the headband with the flashlight and earpiece back on. “Testing testing 1, 2, 3.”

“Hearing ya loud and clear kid. I’ve got other projects to run, but I'll keep an ear out for you. Godspeed.”

“Thanks, I’ll do what I can.”

As the line went quiet, Izuku sighed and started gathering up his gear once more.

The ship was coming in, but from what he could read on what looked like a long range radar, they were still almost a day and a half out from the station.

He would have to keep an eye on that.

Marking down the time he had gotten the message and the approximate time the ship would be close enough to dock, Izuku stashed his notebook once more and glanced around communications.

What else is here…

A few minutes of searching and he found the single unused shotgun shell he had dropped, a few batteries for lights and comms, and a stash of medical kits.

All useful, even if not anything special.

Loading the shell into the shotgun and reloading the revolver, he slung both back where they belonged and walked back out to the central area of Communications.

The three dead synths were where he had left them, spilling white sludge over the ground as Izuku wandered past, eyes tracking for anything of value.

A few more revolver rounds were added to his collection, as well as a small pack of wires. Finished, he turned back and went towards where the map showed the second elevator, the one down to the APOLLO’s Maintenance area.

As he reached the doorway, he paused….

And spun, handgun coming up as he let his gaze drift over the empty area behind him.

No motion…

No sound…

For a minute, he just stood and focused.

Nothing.

Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes.

Am I imagining things? I haven’t slept since the start of this run… nearly ten hours ago,

Pushing the thoughts away, Izuku left the communications hub.

In the vents high above, something shifted.

Injured, but far from dead.

---

Now

Momo couldn’t help but feel… something like pride? Satisfaction? No, vindication.

Because that one blonde Class 1-B student (Monoma… something?), who kept leaning over the wall between classes, had started the entire match by loudly proclaiming that Setsuna was nearly unbeatable, particularly for a barbarian swinging a sword.

Those comments had died off around the time that Midoriya nearly decapitated the girl, drawing gasps from the crowd.

When Midoriya had forced her to reassemble, the blonde had started stammering about cheating. Thankfully, Kendo Itsuka, Class 1-B’s president, had quieted the blond and apologized with a dry smile.

But now, watching from on high as Midoriya strode away with that calm air that she had come to associate as him dismissing a threat, Momo really was proud of her classmate.

“Okay, real fast.”

The sound of Kendo leaning over the wall again caught the attention of the members of 1-A who had gathered so far. Some were still resting in preparation of their upcoming matches, but as most of the class glanced her way, she gave a deep breath.

“What, the fuck is up with Midoriya?”

Momo felt a flare of irritation before Kendo continued.

“What is his quirk? Is it some inverted empathy? Cause I swear to god”— A muttered prayer from behind her rang out, but Kendo ignored it— “that last moment of the fight he did the same thing he did to me during the second round. That whole ‘be terrified’ thing.”

Most of the class glanced at each other, remembering the few times they had seen Izuku pissed off.

“Uhh… that’s actually just how Midoriya is, kero.”

“Yeah, Midoriya-bro is just scary sometimes dude!” Kirishima spoke up, rubbing his head, “It’s manly of him, but just don’t get in his way!’

Kendo gave a… somewhat confused stare. “But, then what is his quirk?”

With a snort, Bakugou spoke up, eyes focused on the screen above as the next pair stepped out. Uraraka Ochako versus Fukidashi Manga. “The nerd is quirkless, lady. Okay? That clear things up? He’s just like that.”

As the conversation between everyone began to split into groups, Momo glanced around, and paused. It didn’t take that long for someone to walk back to the stands, right?

So where was Midoriya?

As if summoned by her thoughts, the slender form of Midoriya seemed to all but materialize from the shadow of the far wall of their box, stepping up and to the ledge overlooking the field. He looked almost untouched from his fight, and was currently nibbling on what Momo recognized as a high calorie bar for people with enhanced metabolism. She saw the faint gleam of his eyes as they kept track of the fight below.

Momo followed his gaze, seeing a large… was that a word that just slammed onto the field?

...And Uraraka just lifted up the word and threw it back.

---

Then

Izuku glanced at the panel he had spent the last ten minutes carefully disassembling.

“Shit.”

This was… way more advanced than the ones he was used to. Normally he could just hardwire a circuit to fry it, but that was not going to fly. Carefully he tried to map out the schematic, noting it down in his notebook with careful lines.

As he finished sketching, he looked up and glanced at the door itself.

Three layers of pressure and impact resistant metal, layered to protect what was arguably the most expensive single component of the entire station.

Cause of fucking course nothing in the god forsaken simulation could ever be easy.

Dismissing his notebook, Izuku pushed himself up from where he was crouched under the door lock.

Tapping his headset, he started walking back through the deserted maintenance halls that he had used to get close in the first place.

“Marshal? It’s Midoriya. Got an update.”

“What’s the news, kid?”

Izuku glanced around the next corridor, handgun at his side.

“APOLLO’s core is locked down tight, and I can't hack through the door. I looked around and there’s a few other options, but they’re so sealed up that I’d need a cutting tool to get through them.

“Damn. I would suggest using a plasma torch but I don’t know where the hell you could find one. Nevermind, I'll look into it on my side, see if any of my men have another option for you. You still gunning for Medical?”

Izuku glanced up at the signs he passed, double checking that he was going the right way. “Yes. I’m heading for the tram now. I’ll need to cut through the lower levels of Seegson Synthetics, which I can already tell is going to suck.”

“If the androids really are killing off crew, I don’t doubt it. We’re reinforcing the marshal's office now. If you do get in deep shit, try to make it back to the Habitation tower.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

With a tap, the headset went quiet.

Izuku glanced down as he stepped into yet another smear of blood, and lifted his handgun higher.

Was it bad that he was starting to recognize the difference in blood trails?

‘Cause this one was crusty in that ‘’at least a day old’ kind of way, and was clearly one of the Alien’s kills.

Mainly because the body was dragged off, and the blood streaks ended at a wall vent.

Izuku glanced at it, gave a split second moment of consideration, and decided that ‘No, that’s stupid’ before turning to continue along the corridor… only to find another corpse.

Again.

Crusty blood with the addition of the massive wounds of the Alien’s tail.

And, hanging from his grip, was half a shotgun.

The tail had apparently sheared right through it.

Ignoring the blood, Izuku lifted the fallen half of the shotgun and tilted it, letting the two still intact shells in the tube fall into his own hands.

A moment of searching found a pouch with at least a dozen more.

“Thank you. I promise to put these to good use,” Izuku muttered to the corpse as he took the pouch.

In the back of his head, he felt the sense of being watched once more.

Ignoring the urge to spin and investigate, he pulled down the shotgun from his shoulder and reloaded.

‘Extra ammo… that vibe of something watching… and I’m passing into the source of all the synthetics on the station. Why do I feel like this is going to suck?’

With a pump of the gun, Izuku loaded a round into the chamber and slung it back over his shoulder.

Less than five minutes later, he was walking into the hub for the tram.

And still, he could feel something waiting.

---

Now

Momo stretched, thinking back over her current plan.

She had headed down when it became clear that Uraraka had the upper hand, being able to send both the pillars around the arena and the words back to Manga. By the time she was at the waiting room, Uraraka had been cheerfully walking off the field. And now, she was reviewing her options as the stage was reset.

Her opponent was, admittedly, a power house in his own right. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow were a dangerous duo, with the Quirk being nearly sentient in it’s own right, she was fighting two people instead of one.

However, she did remember Midoriya’s fight with the teen from the battle trial. While the sunshine would work in her favor, she had seen the teen use Dark Shadow in the light before, with quite a lot of success.

She flexed her hands, thinking of exactly what she needed. A lot of light, a bit of reach…

As the chime to head out on the field rang out, she nodded to herself.

She had a plan.

She strode out the door onto the field, and above her Present Mic’s voice rang out.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! OUR FIGHTERS THIS ROUND! A GENIUS WITH THE WORLD AT HER FINGERS, AND THE CLASS PRESIDENT OF 1-A, YAOYOROZU MOMO!”

Momo gave a slight wave as she walked up onto the stage, the crowd cheering enough to make her flush slightly.

“AND HER OPPONENT! THE FEATHERED TEEN WHO ONLY GETS MORE DANGEROUS IN THE DARK! TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE!”

Across from her, Tokoyami gave a short bow, while Dark Shadow threw up his arms and grandstanded a bit to the crowds cheering.

“Are the contestants ready?” Midnight called out, getting nods from both sides, and a massive thumbs up from Dark Shadow. “BEGIN!”

With the shout, both sides charged into motion, Tokoyami rushed towards her even as the shape of Dark Shadow grew and twisted, reaching out to attack her.

But she was more than used to dealing with fast opponents.

The flicker of her quirk in her right hand, and another along the side of her left flashed out, and she stepped forwards to meet the assault with a newly formed spear and bracer of dark rigid metal.

As Dark Shadow crashed down, she dodged to the side, bringing her spear up to fend off a strike. With a twist she ducked behind one of the pillars, backing off even as Dark Shadow smashed through it.

It did give her space though, which is all she needed. With a sharp motion, she slammed the side of her spear along the back of the bracer, all while creating a pair of sunglasses that wrapped her eyes.

With a spark, the bracer, layered with flint and strips, threw up a shower of sparks, fragments of magnesium mixed into the material making it into a white hot flare.

One which also ignited the spear tip.

As Dark Shadow reared back, Momo advanced.

The bright white of her spear tip lashed out and around, nearly catching the quirk multiple times until with a snarl, it smashed another pillar apart, sending Momo dancing back from the shrapnel.

As the quirk retreated, it revealed Tokoyami, who had perched on a distant pillar, eyes squinting against the glare of her weapon.

“Impressive, Yaoyorozu-san. But I’ve learned some new tricks.”

With shift, Dark Shadow began to shrink and wrap tighter around Tokoyami… and it took only a few seconds before Yaoyorozu understood.

The quirk was layering it’s mass under Tokoyami’s sports uniform. Flickers of smoke and darkness seemed to almost float from his collar, and in the dark of his feathered head, two yellow eyes blinked open, staring down from the other teens forehead.

“After all, I was told to work on my hand to hand.”

With a grunt, he kicked off the pillar, cracking it as a flicker of black pushed him off the pillar.

Grimacing, Momo knew this was not going to be as easy as she hoped.

With a twist, she slammed the spear tip onto the ground to shatter it, leaving only the end cap of the stave burning.

She didn’t want to hurt him, but she needed to be able to strike back.

As Tokoyami rushed her, gleaming black talons of shadow wreathing his hands, Momo met his charge with her own.

---

Then

The boom of the shotgun was matched as another Synth lost it’s face.

He had been expecting some form of opposition moving towards medical, but not one this bad.

He was down to only six shells for the shotgun, and that was after finding another half emptied box of them as he searched through the area.

As the Synth twitched, he let the shotgun hang from its strap and slammed the now white fluid covered maintenance jack down.

As the Synth’s skull caved in, the teen let out an exhausted sigh.

“That's… ten?” Thinking back, Izuku nodded to himself. “Ten. Thank fuck they only roam in pairs at most.”

Rummaging in his pockets, he counted the shells he had left even as he reloaded the shotgun.

Four in the gun. Three in his pockets.

Add to that the six rounds in the revolver and the four he still had in his pocket, and that was… something around seven to nine synth kills if he was careful? Yeah.

Izuku took a moment to use a spare rag, wiping the white blood from both his hands and his jack.

He didn’t want his grip to slip again. That was how he got slammed in the chest earlier.

Speaking of- Izuku pulled his shirt up, only to wince at the deep purple and red that stretched across his sternum. He was almost positive that one of his ribs was cracked, but he couldn’t feel the bubbling of a broken rib punching anything important.

Rummaging on his rigging, he pulled out a medkit. A couple seconds of lining up the needle and he depressed the kit, hissing at the combination of pain and numbness that spiked through his chest, before it came to rest at a mild throbbing.

Better than constant eye watering pain. He’d take it.

As he put the gear back on and adjusted to make everything fit once more, he felt the sense of being watched once more.

He fumbled with a clasp, even as he strained his senses to try and pick up where the feeling was coming from.

Behind him… and up?

He ignored the urge to turn and look, and instead let his fingers trace over the bombs.

Explosive… noise maker… smoke…

There it is.

He carefully let it drop into his hand, even as he shrugged and patted down his pouches.

The jack was slung over one shoulder, the shotgun over the other-

And he tossed the grenade behind him, letting it bounce across the metal flooring in the gazes direction.

Izuku ducked and plugged his ears as the flash bang went off-

And a very familiar screech of anger rang out.

With a crash, the vent that was in the ceiling back behind him crashed to the ground.

And the Alien landed on top of it.

Where smooth and elegant chitin once covered the Alien’s limbs, sections were pockmarked and warped like scar tissue. The pitting and twisted chitin even reached up its face, scarring one side of it’s head. Beyond that, the scars that reached deeper had nearly fluorescent green bubbles and streaks, as if the Alien’s blood was constantly burning and coloring the chiton.

As it rose up, it gave a scream that could only be described as vengeful.

And then, it lunged.

---

Now

Momo danced back, spear jabbing out as she tested Tokoyami’s ability.

Dark Shadow was hiding under his clothes, keeping the light away even as it wrapped and followed Tokoyami’s strikes.

However, even after only a few seconds, Momo could tell that she had the edge when it came to both control and skill. Tokoyami was able to smash through stone and shrug off strikes, but his own attacks were clumsy at best… as if he was two people trying to act together.

‘Which,’ she realized as she twisted around another strike, the butt of the spear smashing up and across to send Tokoyami reeling, ‘might actually be true. If Dark Shadow is trying to follow and mimic Tokoyami then…’ She watched closely and was rewarded. Tokoyami had to move before Dark Shadow could mirror it.

Which meant that all of his attacks were telegraphed in advance.

And, as she could see, both sets of eyes were still more than light sensitive.

Parrying a strike, she winced, feeling the stress of the stave as the impact almost snapped it.

But that was fine.

Under her shirt, a new tool formed, and then dropped as she stepped back.

Catching the Matryoshka doll she had made with her foot, she kicked it up at Tokoyami.

As she expected, he wasn’t able to bat it away, still unbalanced with Dark Shadow’s help.

Instead, as it bounced off his chest, he looked down.

And right into the flashbang that had come from inside the doll.

Momo was lucky that she had the foresight to make earplugs.

However, she wasn’t expecting quite how badly Dark Shadow reacted to the point blank flash.

Almost like a wave of darkness, Dark Shadow exploded out of Tokoyami’s shirt. It shredded the material, the instinctive flinch from the light going through the material of the sports clothes like wet tissue. Momo wasn’t going to get a better chance.

With a shout, she closed in, and used the stave as a lever to swing and catch Tokoyami by the ankle.

As the blinded teen gave a shout, she stepped in and jabbed down, pressing the butt of the stave to his throat, even as Dark Shadow retreated under the teen. As the bird faced teen blinked, Midnight came closer, before nodding and turning her mic back on.

“MATCH CALL! YAOYOROZU WINS! TOKOYAMI IS UNABLE TO CONTINUE!”

As the cheers went up, Momo felt the rush of adrenaline leave her system.

‘She won!’

Chapter 35: Flash and Bang

Summary:

WARNING!
You Remember the tags?
Specifically the ones about Gore?

*Consider this the reminder*

Now
“This is disgraceful!” The words were sneered out, accompanied by the sound of a remote smashing against the far wall, even as the screens showed replays of the festival so far. A lab coat swayed as the red-haired scientist paced before the monitors, eyes tracing the green-haired figure.

From behind him, hands dripping blood and thick, round glasses reflecting the gore and viscera of his work, the doctor spoke up. “What seems to be the problem? Is he not demonstrating his strength to the world, just as you desired?”

“He hasn’t. He’s barely exerted himself! This disgrace of a tournament hasn’t even pushed Subject Nine!” Blue eyes narrowed as Akihiko Sugoh stared at the replay of the obstacle course.

“Give it time, Sugoh. The tournament has just begun, after all! Surely one of his classmates will provide some form of challenge.” With a yank, a bullet was pulled from the corpse in front of him. “Hmm… do you know bullet sizes?”

“It’s a nine millimeter,” Sugoh called out, not even looking. “I know for a fact that Subject Nine prefers that caliber, considering it’s what he’s used to.”

“Oh? Interesting. I rarely get to explore gunshots.” As the bullet clinked into a tray, Garaki Kyudai resumed pulling apart the corpse. “I admit, I did have high hopes for the Hunter. It’s a shame to see it fall so low, and by bullets of all things?”

Turning, Sugoh glanced at the doctor. “The advent of quirks merely offered means that had never existed, it does not discount the techniques that were already present.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve mentioned this before. A skilled sniper is as much a threat as a Hero in the right circumstance.”

Resisting the urge to comment on the casual dismissal behind the doctor’s words, Sugoh turned back and crossed his arms, sneering.

“If nothing else, the information on Subject Nine that we’ve gathered thus far will assist in projects Alpha, Delta and Lambda.”

With his gaze locked on the screens, Sugoh never noticed the faint glare from Doctor Garaki. The two were to create an army that would destroy the modern era. And yet, the results from his self-proclaimed ‘counterpart’ were… lacking.

As Garaki resumed his dissection of ‘Hunter,’ he pushed the thought away.

The truth of whose strain of Nomu was greatest would come to light sooner or later.

The simulated growth of Akihiko Sugoh’s Hunter-Killer?

Or the careful creation of Garaki Kyudai’s High-Class?

---

Then

Flashing blacks and greens scored through metal as Izuku scrambled and lunged, ripping smoke grenades and flashbangs from his harness even as he threw himself over a crate, the sound of shearing metal matched only by the roar of the Alien itself. Ignoring the spike of pain as he landed on his ribs, he threw himself into a roll and pushed up, dropping the now armed grenades at his feet before he felt the Alien’s tail sweep his legs from under him, sending him crashing back to the ground.

The gasp from his lips was ignored, the burning of his ribs shoved down as he closed his eyes tight and rolled under a railing, dropping to the lower side of the corridor.

The next sound blew out his eardrums, and the world started spinning.

‘Too close to the grenades. Fuck.’

Smoke filled the air, but aside from the echoing ‘ring’ of the flashbang, he couldn’t hear anything.

The revolver was… gone, dropped as he was trying to escape, but his shotgun was still across his back.

As he sprinted he shrugged it around and tried not to trip; his sense of balance was off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flicker of black and green and ducked.

The way the Aliens blade-like tail ripped through a section of railing like it was paper was all the threat he needed. Twisting, he fired the shotgun, and ignored how it almost ripped out of his hands. He hadn’t braced for the shot, or even really aimed.

But the Alien seemed to be upset, and there were new drips of green where the metal pellets had torn through a patch of still healing carapace, so he at least hit the fucker.

A second shot nearly broke his wrist, but the Alien staggered back.

Which was all Izuku needed as he ripped out a noisemaker and a smoke grenade once more and slammed their triggers, dropping them. ‘Huh, I can almost hear that.’

As the Alien shifted, jaw opening to reveal that second mouth once more and the faint echo of a scream reaching his ears through the ringing, Izuku took the chance to actually brace the shotgun against his shoulder and fired twice more.

Splashes of green sprayed free, but the Alien’s charge didn’t stop as it tore through the smoke.

As it closed in on him, it reared back its arm and lashed out. Swearing loudly, Izuku brought the shotgun around and braced-

The impact felt almost like getting hit by a truck, the shotgun in his grip folding around the black chitin of the arm before slamming into his chest, ripping the air from his lungs even as he felt his body being picked up.

Izuku was slammed into a metal wall, denting it even as the impact cleared the last of the ringing in his ears away.

Despite feeling like he couldn’t breathe, his desperate hands scrambled around his chest, searching for-

The smashed remains of the shotgun skipped off the ground as the Alien strode from the smoke, and this time he could hear it.

The deep, bone-shaking, terrifying, growl. The sheer menace it exuded.

As his hands found what he was looking for-

A sickening snap.

The Alien had slammed down, its claws digging into his left thigh even as the weight of its chitin inverted his knee, crunching bone under its weight.

He couldn’t help the scream that tore from his lips.

Splashes of green ran down its chest, and Izuku could see the shape of some sort of bone or crest, visible under its scoured faceplate.

As it leaned in, acid and drool oozed from its jaw, searing holes through his clothes and thighs.

Izuku flinched, seeing the second mouth rear back, almost ready to strike.

And that's when he swung his arm up and shoved his right arm, fist first, into the Alien’s Jaw.

On reflex, it seemed to clamp down, and Izuku could only scream: one part vindication, and one part sheer pain, as his arm was torn off at the elbow. The Alien reared back, just far enough for his foot to come up and shove the creature back and off, even as red blood spilled to the floor from his stump.

His scream staggered out, hitching as adrenaline hit his system like a freight train, before his vision seemed to flicker and waver.

As the Alien rose up, tail whipping back and forth for balance, Izuku could only choke out a laugh, laying in the growing pool of his own blood. Because Izuku could see it: the ripped off arm, his ripped off arm, still held fist first in the Alien’s mouth.

And the clenched fist, wrapped tight around a special gift.

Last time it had to go through chitin.

This time he was going to bypass that.

“Bitch.”

And with his whisper, there was a bang.

---

Now

Momo leaned back in the corridor, breathing still heavy and blood pumping. Over the loudspeaker, she could hear Present Mic shouting about the current match, and just how evenly matched Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were. Judging by the way she could even hear the thud of hardened flesh and metal skin, it seemed they were neck and neck.

Pushing up, she staggered, legs wobbling as the adrenaline rush began to fade away, before she headed for the stands.

However, just as she drew close, she saw the crazed pink-haired teen glancing around, before she narrowed her eyes on Momo and all but rushed for her.

“Hey, you! Do you have a free minute? Thanks, come here!”

As the pink teen grabbed her arm and dragged her off, Momo could only sputter in confusion.

---

Then

The scent of scorched flesh was matched by the choked-off screams of Izuku.

The road flare held in a shaking grip slipped from the bloodied fingers of his left hand.

But the deed was done.

The stump of his arm, just above where the elbow once was, was charred and blackened, the wound cauterized, and the bleeding stopped. With a grunt, the belt that acted as a tourniquet was loosened, slowly letting blood flow resume.

Izuku dropped the flare to the ground, the bloodied red metal rolling to a stop with the other three he had used so far, and the half-dozen medical kits that were now emptied, used to numb his wounds.

With the deed done, Izuku gave a shuddering breath and spat out the wadded up cloth he had been biting down on, ignoring the faint specks of blood from where he had bit his tongue.

Across from him, where the far side of the corridor once was, the floor gave way, still hissing and spitting toxic vapors from the splatter of blood that dripped from the headless corpse.

The Alien was dead.

It just took his arm, a crude pipebomb, and luck.

He wanted to laugh, but his throat felt… broken. The screaming had ripped… something.

Slowly, using his left arm to grip the edge of a pipe on the wall to try and balance, Izuku crawled to his feet. Ignoring the pain of his shattered knee. The leg had been splinted, using the maintenance jack, rope, and the last of his bandages to bind it the best he could.

He gave the shotgun that had been warped and ruined a rueful glance, before turning and hopping past the point where the Alien had corroded the floor. He was looking for…

Ah, perfect.

Laying on the ground where the Alien had slammed him, was the revolver.

A swaying step, where he blinked away the dizziness of blood loss, he reached down and lifted it up; the sheer pain of his leg as he placed his weight on it was almost enough to cause him to black out again.

A moment of trying, and he finally slid it home on his belt.

He did sigh at how awkward it would be to draw it. He had to reach across his own stomach to snag the handle, and he didn’t even want to consider how to reload it. Not right now.

Turning back, he navigated around the corpse again, hand on the wall to balance himself as he hobbled forward with a shuffling mix of hops.

If it wasn't for the sheer amount of drugs in his system, he strongly suspected he would be screaming more. As it was, his world seemed to blur at the edges, as if he was viewing it through goggles filled with water.

Moving forwards, he turned the corner at the end of the hall, and choked out a laugh.

He was only a few dozen meters from the elevator to the medical wing.

What a surprise.

Staggering along the wall, he reached out, clumsy fingers tapping at the call button, before he leaned against the elevator frame, arm bracing him off his bad leg as he waited.

With a ding, the doors opened, almost sending Izuku crashing to the floor as the door slid out from under his grip.

His splinted leg was not happy at that, fuck.

Choking off another scream, he staggered in, slamming his back to the wall as he took pressure off the leg.

For a moment he could just stand and force himself to breathe.

When his breathing didn’t sound like he was choking, and his body stopped shaking, he reached out and hit the button for the medical floors.

Who knows, maybe they had better pain killers.

That would be nice.

---

Now

As Hatsume Mei finally wandered off, freshly repaired gear adorning her frame, Momo relaxed.

It hadn’t been difficult, by any means. She had just helped the pink-haired teen with some minor repairs and replacing one of the fans on her boots.

Though, she did manage to convince her not to screw with Iida too much. Her vice-representative was uptight but he was also prideful, and would be much better as an opponent than as a public test for Hatsume’s gear.

She did get to glance at the play-by-play of the end of the match, however. Kirishima pulled ahead just enough to win, but at the cost of spending some time under Recovery Girl’s care.

Heading for the stands once more, she heard Present Mic’s muffled voice as he announced Hatsume and Iida.

She stifled a laugh when the inventor hijacked the audio feed.

By the time she reached the stands, Hatsume was already giving sales pitches as she danced across the field, Iida right on her tail even as the hover boots and creative use of cover and some grappling lines let her take corners faster than the taller teen.

When she stepped out, standing next to Midoriya, she saw the blurs down on the field.

After a few minutes of silence, Izuku spoke up, “Thanks for helping Mei out. She deserves a good show.”

Glancing over, Momo took in the… almost fond look on Midoriya's face.

“How do you know her, anyway?”

Izuku hummed, eyes tracing the fight. “I ran into her before the start of the term. She’s taken up a position as my personal engineer, and helped design the armor and gear I used in the USJ. She also… is helping with some of the more complex gear I requested. She’s gone above and beyond for me.” He had a distant look on his face and glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes roaming the rest of 1A, before glancing back at the match, “Just like Koji, Kyouka, and you have.”

Momo blinked.

That was the first time that Midoriya… or Izuku, she supposed, had used their first names.

Infact, today was the first day in quite some time that he seemed to be almost relaxed.

She gave him a quiet shoulder bump as the two watched on.

“Anytime, Izuku.”

Below, Iida finally landed a hit, using the leftover rigging provided by Mei’s grapple to slingshot around a pillar, cutting Mei off mid-speech to the cheers of the crowd.

And with that momentum, Momo watched as Iida took back control, fighting off new invention after new invention, all while Mei gleefully explained each of their uses over the intercom.

With a final grand blast of plasma, which Izuku gave a soft chuckle at, Mei resigned, leaving the battlefield damaged and scorched, and Iida standing victorious, if slightly singed.

As the two left, and the stage was once more reset, Momo leaned back on the railing and looked at Midoriya. Just like back in the battle trial, he seemed to be three steps ahead of everyone else watching.

As the next match was called, Momo noticed as Izuku glanced at the board, and a soft twist came to his lips. “I’m curious to see… just how much he’s changed.” She could only watch Izuku’s eyes sharpen, as below, Shinsou Hitoshi walked out to meet Bakugou Katsuki.

“You and Bakugou know each other, right? I know he talks about you occasionally.”

Izuku nodded, “Yes… we were childhood friends. Though, he was always a bit too prideful when we were in school together. But since we’ve come to U.A., he’s seemed to mature.”

As the match started, Izuku couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the distant words he could pick up beyond the crowd's cheers and the distance.

---

Then

Izuku grunted as he pulled himself out of a vent, once more cursing and gasping swears at the broken leg. His splint at least meant he could stagger around, but it made trying to move through the vents, with tight corners and twists, absolute hell.

Lifting himself up he glanced around, taking in the variety of signs that marked this as the main lobby of the medical tower.

Limping along, Izuku glanced at the signs, taking note of the variety of basic information for anything he didn’t know.

How to apply pressure on bleeds, how to wrap splints and strains, tips for safety measures to avoid injuries.

Riveting stuff, to help take his mind off the pain.

Staggering across the hall, Izuku paused, and headed to one of the corners, hand reaching out as he leaned on the wall to pull a crutch from where it had been stashed away.

“Huh. That’s nice.”

Looking over the crutch, Izuku took a moment to adjust it to his shorter height, before trying to use it.

It was uncomfortable, and his balance was already out of whack before adding in an extra limb, but it was better than walking on his splint.

Less pain was nice.

Besides, now he could… sort of limp faster.

Flexing his wrist over the handle, Izuku gave a few tests, nearly overbalancing once or twice before he got the basics down.

And with that, he took off once more, this time angling for the actual medical wing.

But as the door opened, he paused.

There, standing behind the reinforced glass of what was probably the receptionist’s desk, was a taller dark-haired man, who looked just as surprised as Izuku probably did.

---

Now

Katsuki cracked his knuckles, focusing on the tall teen with a shock of purple hair who was scowling from across the ring.

“You must think your quirk makes you tough shit, huh?”

The words felt almost like a punch, despite Katsuki’s faint growl of anger.

‘What the fuck does this third string jackass think he fucking knows?’

Oh, Katsuki knew he wasn’t tough shit, not yet, and not for a long ass time. He didn’t even qualify for the words. He was skilled, sure, he put in the time for it. And for his quirk? He was damn well aware that he was born lucky.

So, sparks crackling in his fist, he called back.

“Are you gonna fucking talk shit-”

The grip of ice on his heart tightened as he watched, yet again, as Deku, as IZUKU, walked that perilous line between death and madness. As every fucking comment about his quirk, every snippet of praise boiled under his skin, as his pride, Burned… He could only watch as Izuku proved that it wasn’t the quirk that made someone strong.

It was the sheer, unrelenting will to take anything and everything that the world could throw. Take every hit it sent your way, and then grin, spit out blood, and tell them to try harder.

The bang of an explosion seemed to cause the world to snap into focus.

“-Fuck… Face..”

He wasn’t looking at Shinsou anymore. He was staring out at the edge of the arena, barely a few paces from the edge, his hand stinging from the familiar spark of an explosion.

“Well, shit. I didn’t think you were the type of jackass to not pay attention! What a useful quirk you have, right?” The voice was still slow and insulting, but coming from behind him, it was also laced with panic.

As he turned back, hand flashing with another explosion as the familiar venom of rage spiked in his veins, Katsuki swore out.

“What the fuck are-”

Spitting out saltwater Katsuki dug his hands into the sand and the surf and dragged himself up.

Behind him, the ragged cliffs of the secluded stretch of beach stood out. His phone played another clip, another video, of Izuku-

This time the blast came out, and Bakugou had to flinch as it blew past his own face, the flash of heat and flame snapping him from some sort of daze.

But he could see it, the scowl of frustration and focus on the purple teen’s face, even as his mouth kept running.

“-what kind of hero are you gonna be? Suicide bomber light? What a goddamn waste of combat ability you are-”

“SHUT THE FUCK U-”

“I need to go to therapy.”

The kitchen table went silent like he had dropped a goddamn nuke, and not the ones on his wrists.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He met his mom’s surprise with a scowl. He knew this was going to hurt to explain.

He came back to the crash of knuckles against his face, and snarled.

That was his goddamn fist! He just fucking decked himself!

What the hell was going on?

“You really are a fucking disgrace aren’t you?”

“Can you SHUT THE FUCK-”

The gym was more expensive than he really wanted to admit. A side effect of being set up to handle destructive quirks.

He gave the taller man ahead of him an assessing glance, before setting his bag aside.

“I need to learn control.”

The older man barked a laugh, salt and pepper grey hair and beard shaking. “Welcome to the club, kid. Why the hell should I teach you?”

Bakugou didn’t fire a spark. Instead he glared the man dead in the eyes, and spoke with the seriousness of the grave.

“Because no one has ever tried, and I refuse to cause collateral damage.”

Another blast, and Bakugou snapped out of it.

He was backed in the corner, and he barely understood the specifics of what was happening to him.

‘Think, god fucking dammit. What’s the link? If it’s some sort of mental quirk he needs to be providing a trigger. Deku would have dissected this shit and moved on with his life by now!‘

Narrow red eyes met with a dark lilac gaze.

‘What the hell-’

“Oh, are you back with us?”

‘Does he never shut the fuck u-’

The words rang through his head and Katsuki nearly committed an explosive facepalm suicide right there.

‘Right. First off, mute the fucker. This is gonna hurt later.’

Raising his hands next to his ears, he loosened his jaw.

He didn’t want to break his teeth like this.

He saw the realization and uncertainty of the purple haired jackass as he put together what was about to happen.

Katsuki growled, and with a bang, he drowned out the world.

Ringing filled his ears, blasting out any other sound, and with his teeth bared he shouted words he couldn’t hear.

“You wanna know how lucky I am?”

Gritting his teeth at the pain and the way he felt his balance shift unsteadily, he took a step forward.

“Then let me FUCKING EXPLAIN!”

Deaf to the manic shouts and questions of the lilac teen, Bakugou Katsuki began to stride across the pitch.

“I got a quirk with power, and people decided that was it. And it wasn’t until I stared at the bloodied corpse of my best fucking friend, the only goddamn person who saw me, that I realized that I had been blind.”

He could see the lips moving, but with the ringing and his pulse drawing it out, he honestly did not give a fuck.

“He was taken because he was quirkless. And then he proved that quirkless doesn’t mean worthless. I watched him die a thousand times, and come back each time with sharper focus and harder eyes.”

Now the purple haired teen was stepping back, uncertain even as he seemed to be desperately shouting at Katsuki.

“And as I watched him forge himself into a weapon just to survive, I focused all my time onto being better.”

The ringing was fading, but that was fine.

Ducking under a clumsy swing, Katsuki twisted up and threw a textbook perfect cross.

The way that Shinsou staggered back, blood spewing, showed that he had broken the teens nose.

He didn’t stop there.

A shove, and he was driving Shinsou back, palms slamming into arms and stomach, his footwork intercepting the thinner teen’s as he all but forced him to retreat.

All without a single goddamn explosion.

“You’re right, probably. The system is fucked. Congrats. Now stop bitching, and do something about it. Half the people in this fucking tournament had a hard fucking time, you aren’t fucking special.”

And with that, he drove his fist into the teen’s face, knocking him off his feet and over the boundary line of the arena.

His ears were still ringing, but he could make out Mic’s shouting.

Below him, Shinsou Hitoshi sprawled across the grass, unconscious.

---

Then

Doctor Kuhlman was the man's name, and he was theoretically the sole surviving surgeon on the Sevastopol.

Izuku took a seat, legs out on a gurney as he stared at the man who was fiddling with the tools around him. Even now the doctor was looking at the teen’s stump of an elbow and slowly peeling burned-off material from the end. Izuku kept his handgun close at hand, but was willing to let himself be poked and prodded.

His sharp green eyes watched every poke and stitch and prod.

‘He’s twitchy, but his hands don’t shake. Practice? Hmm...

“God, you’ve suffered quite a few wounds! If you had bled out even a little bit more you’d be in severe danger of dying from blood loss. As it is, you are anemic to the extreme!”

Kuhlman worked on the stump some more before setting down the scalpel and forceps.

“Any advice to help with that?”

Kuhlman blinked and hummed. “If you could find a bag of O- blood in the cold storage, then I could filter it into your body through an IV, helping to relieve the side effects.”

“And where would that be?”

Kuhlman gave a hesitant pause.

“Why, in the rest of the medical storage facility.”

Izuku gave a dark glare. “And what, exactly, prevents you from going up and grabbing some?”

“I’m locked out. The only person who had the code is Dr. Morley.”

Izuku felt a headache come on.

“And what happened to Doc Morley?”

“He died.”

Izuku gave his greatest ‘no fucking shit’ expression.

“But, if you can track down his terminal and bypass his door code, using that Security Tuner of yours, I can access medical storage.”

Izuku sighed.

“Can you give me a better splint? I'm probably going to need this door jack.”

As the doctor got to work, babbling thanks, Izuku flexed his sole hand to release some tension.

‘I don’t trust him. But if this run is already fucked, I need every bit of information I can get.’

---

Now

Red eyes looked up from the edge of the stage as Present Mic and Aizawa announced he was the winner.

The red eyes met green, and Izuku acknowledged the challenge. Saw the conviction.

As Bakugou left the stage, Izuku glanced back.

Jirou was leaving and every line of her back and shoulders read of fear and resignation.

He didn’t really like that.

Giving Momo a silent goodbye, he shoved off the railing, ignoring the way that Todoroki watched him leave.

Behind him, Monoma Neito and Hiryu Rin were called onto the stage arena. He doubted he would have to fight either of them, considering they would have to fight through both Bakugou and likely Todoroki in order to make the finals.

He trailed behind Jirou as she made her way to the waiting room.

He wondered if she was even focused enough to listen to him, considering just how distracted she seemed.

When she closed in on the room, he picked up the pace, moving at a silent jog until he was right behind her.

‘Really, really distracted. What a shame.’

Well, better get her attention.

He snapped his fingers right at the base of her neck, and bit back a laugh as she whirled around like he had rung a gong.

“Fucking hell!”

Well, since he had her attention now…

“You’re being stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Jirou snarled, getting right up in Izuku’s face, the two of them almost nose to nose.

Izuku still kept his stare steady, watching her chest heave and her hands shake.

“Todoroki is going to win. And you’ve resigned yourself to that.”

“Yeah, no shit!”

Izuku rolled his eyes and poked her forehead with his fingertips faster than she could easily see, making her flinch back

“Think, Kyouka. So he wins. He moves on. You know that, and he knows that. So he’s focused on the next battle, against whoever wins between the 1B students. Then he has Bakugou to contend with. He’s already thinking of the next three fights. Focused on the next two fights after you because he already assumes he’s won.”

Kyouka threw her arms out, the shaking of her fingers clear as day. “Hasn’t he?!”

Izuku kept her eyes locked and reached out and wiped an angry tear from her eye, watching as she swallowed a shout and glanced away.

“You don’t have to win. I said that earlier, right?” Izuku let his voice drop, and dragged her attention back to him. He let the faintest surge of intent fill his voice, to call to the deepest parts of her mind. He didn’t reach for the fear, or the intent to kill, as easy as they rose to his mind. Instead, he focused on the faint memory of sun and ash, channeling the memory of Solaire on the balcony.

“Yeah, you did.” She met his eyes, and suddenly she seemed to almost visibly relax.

“You don’t have to let him win either. Make him pay for it. Make every step a hassle. Trip him. Disorient him. Make a spectacle of it.” Izuku tilted his head, deep green eyes seeming to narrow at Kyouka’s.

“The greatest tactical mistake anyone and everyone can make is ignoring somebody. He’s going to give you a single opening. Take it and break him.”

As Jirou gave a slow nod. Izuku reigned back in his focus.

“Good luck.”

He stepped back, and she seemed to shiver from the lack of eye contact.

Izuku started walking off. He was technically supposed to be at the other waiting room for his match anyway.

He only got a few steps away before Jirou spoke up.

“Hey, Izuku? ...Thanks.”

He didn’t respond.

But he did have a trace of a smile on his lips.

Chapter 36: Audio Settings

Jirou took a deep breath as the announcement that Monoma Neito had won the match rang out.

She was pacing almost absentmindedly, going through the arm stretches that Izuku had drilled into her as she considered her move.

She had one shot…

But how to pull it off?

She didn’t have a sword or anything that she could use.

Izuku hadn’t taught her anything crazy, just basic combat.

And even training with Momo really hadn't prepared her for this.

She was almost positive that Todoroki’s first move would be a wave of ice, just like the battle trial.

How is she going to avoid that?

All she had going for her was her heartbeat attack, the sharpness of her jacks, and the element of surprise.

Slowly stopping her pacing, her mind began to race.

‘What… if i don’t need to avoid it… But use it?’

It was risky. Hell, it was probably insane, damn near suicidal in an actual fight…

‘Why do I get the feeling Izuku is a bad influence on my tactics?’

Taking a deep breath, Jirou began thinking about how to put the pieces of this crazy plan into action.

---

Then

Izuku shifted his leg, taking in the dull silver of the brace that the doctor had strapped around his crushed knee. He wouldn’t be able to kneel or run, but it was more than able to support his weight and let him limp around with the help of the crutch.

His stump of an arm was now wrapped tightly with white bandages and sealed with some sort of glue to keep it from coming undone. His revolver was shifted to his left side, in easy reach of his sole remaining arm, and the door jack was hanging from his back.

As he glanced back, the door to the medical room where Kuhlman was sealed tight, the familiar red light of a lock blinking. Over the door intercom, the doctor spoke up one last time.

“While you get the codes I'm gonna start preparing something better for your knee. Be careful, I know that other survivors were poking around in the lower levels here a few hours ago.”

Izuku snorted softly and started staggering down the hall, crutch under his arm and eyes scanning the area. He wished he still had his comm’s headset, but it had vanished sometime around when the alien jumped on him.

Probably melted or tossed into a vent somewhere.

Sighing, Izuku went back to picking his way through the halls.

The place was a mess.

Much like he had seen over the security cams several runs ago, the entirety of the hospital wing was knocked around; gurneys were overturned and makeshift barricades had been made in an attempt to block off some doors, only to be scattered when something, probably the alien judging by the scratch marks, crashed through them.

As Izuku limped through the wreckage, he glanced at some of the markings, mind already reconstructing the scenes.

Gouges where it landed from a vent and moved around.

A desk had a blood stain that dragged across, which Izuku could tell was a desperate grab as someone was yanked away.

Windows looking into a few offices along the way were cracked and shattered, some with the tell-tale gouges of the Alien’s movement.

Huffing as he maneuvered around another half collapsed barricade, Izuku glanced around.

Morley… where the fuck was…

Glancing up Izuku caught sight of a bloodstained sign on the wall.

Huh. that helps.

Following the arrow on the sign towards the offices, Izuku limped around a bend and down a long hall with more crumpled and strewn furniture.

Blood stains, scattered body parts…

Nothing new.

Izuku shoved the thoughts about how fucked up he was away, pushing past the broken bodies slumped in corners and under a half collapsed barricade.

He focused on the thud of his braced leg and the thump of his crutch. He focused on steady breathing and ignoring pain.

He was almost sure that this run had already become a write off… but he had more to learn.

It took nearly half an hour to pick past obstacles, travel through halls, and eventually find the door to Dr. Morley’s office.

Fumbling from his belt, he lifted up the tuner.

Only to curse at the fact that it had two knobs, both of them far enough apart that this was going to be awkward..

With a sigh, Izuku got to work.

---

Now

Todoroki Shoto stepped away, ignoring the words his father was throwing behind him about how much of a disgrace he was being.

The words had been said so many times before that they no longer held meaning to him.

Instead, the words that Bakugou had tossed in his face at the end of their conversation kept coming back.

“You aren’t the only one with a shit past.”

He shoved the thoughts away.

He would prove that he was stronger than his past, and his father. He would do it with only his mother's quirk. And he would crush anyone in his way.

Stepping out of the tunnel, he blinked at the sunshine, before pacing up to the arena.

The blocks of cover weren’t going to be much of an issue. It just meant that instead of forming a glacier he should go for a more widespread ice attack.

Across from him Jirou took her own stance. Legs bent and arms up.

He didn’t care. She was merely a distraction on his path.

“Begin!”

He reached deep, even as Jirou began to run at him, sprinting across the ground.

‘What a waste of effort.’

Reaching for his quirk, he gave a single sweep of his arm, and let it go.

The air in front of him turned to mist, and he caught a single glimpse of Jirou diving behind a pillar before his quirk rushed ahead of him.

Across the ground, twisting ridges of ice spread out, wrapping around and under the blocks nearby, lifting them out of place like they were mere toys, before rushing forwards, encasing the rest of the stage in layers upon layers of ice.

Now it was just a matter of Midnight realizing that he had won.

Lowering his arm, he gave an exhale, breath misting in the cold.

Above him, the murmurs of the crowd began, but Shoto ignored them. None of them mattered.

Hn-hm Hn-hm

He blinked.

What was that?

He glanced around and suddenly felt… nauseous.

And from the look of things, he wasn’t the only one. Even Midnight looked vaguely off-guard. The cheers and conversations of the crowds were loud, but beneath it he could hear… something.

And then the humming… that faint echo-

Grew louder.

And with it, the ice began to crack.

Shoto took a step forward, trying to sense where the sound was coming from.

And nearly tripped as the world seemed to double in front of him, his balance seeming to fall apart even as he moved.

The cracks kept spreading, but they were only cracks. The ice was still there.

Breathing deeply, Todoroki reached for his quirk, planning to send another wave just to be on the safe side when-

The sound stopped.

He panted, half slouched in disoriented pain, when the sound of running steps on ice drew his attention, only in time to see Jirou bear down on him without her sports jacket on. Her pants were covered with frost, and her boots were half encased in ice, but she wasn’t out.

Todorki tried to stand and shift but even though the nausea had started to fade, his balance hadn’t quite recovered.

And with a crack, Jirou performed a textbook hook to his jaw, right below the burnmark.

The impact sent him staggering, and it was only years of taking far heavier hits from a far stronger opponent that kept him from getting knocked over.

However, it did clear the last of the dizziness, and with it, sent a spark of sheer rage and disbelief through him.

With a shout he swung his arm back around frost trailing the motion as he sent a wave of ice at-

Nothing?

Jirou hadn’t stayed where he thought, and instead had circled around him with quick steps.

As he threw the ice out, he barely caught her from his bad side, as she went low.

A kick with her boots at his knee, sending him down.

The crack of his knee on ice and he rolled with it, coming up a few steps further away, dodging as the punk rocker slammed her fist down at him in what would have been a vicious strike had it landed.

With the ice hemming her in from one direction, she sprinted after his downed form.

But Shoto wasn’t going to fall for that a second time.

A shout and twist brought another wave of ice up, and twisted it to meet the other teen’s charge as she tried to go for another punch. With a shout, Jirou was lifted and trapped, her arm encased in ice and wrenched upwards.

“Give up!”

“Fuck you too!”

With a swing of her boot she caught Shoto in the shoulder, sending him staggering back even as that hum returned. And then spiked.

The ice covering her arm cracked, and then shattered, sending Jirou to the ground. However, her arm now hung limp and she was biting back a litany of curses. The jack that she had slammed into the ice formation was freezing and her skin was now bright red, laced with small scratches from the ice.

Shoto rubbed at his jaw and snarled, before sending another sweep of ice, only for the sound to spike and send him stumbling again, the ice veering off course as Jirou ducked away.

Coming up, he narrowed his eyes at Jirou.

There. One of her earjacks were embedded in the ground behind her, likely the cause of the vibrations.

He was sick of playing her game.

Ignoring the slowly growing ache of using the ice, Todroki brought his hand back, and threw out a much larger attack.

He barely saw Jirou’s look of resigned fury before she was caught up in the sudden glacier.

And this time, Midnight called the match.

“Winner, Todoroki Shoto.”

The hush that had fallen over the crowd was… torn.

Cheers… but uneasy.

With a frown he stepped up and placed his left hand on the glacier, starting to melt it.

Above him, half encased in the ice, Jirou leaned back with a curse on her lips.

---

Then

Typing with one hand was a bitch. At least he could sit down and keep pressure off his leg.

Morley’s office was empty. No doctor, no lab coat, no access badges, and no PDA. But the computer was there, and Izuku did know how to bypass the lock.

As Izuku scrolled through the messages, however, things were becoming clearer.

A message from a Dr. Lingard with complaints about mood enhancing drugs vanishing faster than they should. A voice message from Kulhman bitching about not being allowed in the dispensary.

Which led Izuku to the oh so fun conclusion that the only doctor still alive on this godforsaken space station is also a drug addict. Who was trying to get high one last time.

As Bakugou would say. “Fucking… joy.”

Thankfully, the last two messages had a direction to go.

First, a note about doing rounds for the week it was sent.

Second, the code to get through the quarantine lockdowns.

1702.

Wonderful.

As Izuku staggered up, he took one last look at the ‘Emergency Evacuation’ map on the wall near the door. Tapping it, he added it to his notebook function.

“Right… Where did the good doctor die is the big question.”

With his crutch in hand, Izuku set off for the medical examination rooms… and from there, towards the surgery suites. Coming across the first door with a code, he leaned on his crutch and tapped in the code, before with a beep it opened.

This area looks a bit cleaner, and one of the first things that caught his eyes…

Was a white board with rooms and doctors.

“Doctor Morley… Rooms A-29, A-26 and C-21. That helps.”

Time to follow the doctor’s rounds. If he was lucky, he would find the corpse sooner than later.

---

Now

“There will be a 30 minute intermission between rounds! Please, feel free to take a walk around!”

Mic hit mute and leaned back, taking a sip of iced tea as he looked up at the replays of the matches that another studio was talking about. He had tried to convince Shouta to join him for the announcements, but the other teacher had been remarkably quiet so far. Only joining in for a few of the earlier events, and even now only barely commenting on the tournament matches.

“You doing okay? What’s up?”

Shouta glanced from the screens with an expression that seemed tense.

“Most of my students that have moved on so far are the ones I’ve been worried about. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu are the only ones that I have no real concerns about. Uraraka has been fairly upbeat, and has a competitive streak. However, I doubt she’ll cause a problem with it. Meanwhile Yaoyorozu merely has a level of insecurity, but that’s been fading away the more she works with Midoriya.”

Mic nodded, following along with his friend's train of thought. “And Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki?”

Aizawa glanced up at the screens. “Bakugou needs to learn to tone down his anger and aggression somewhat, but he’s remained remarkably clear headed so far. Even with Shinsou going after him psychologically, he still kept his focus and pulled out a win. But don’t tell me you haven’t seen his grudge with Todoroki. When they go up against each other… I don’t know how bad their fight will be. Todoroki clearly needs to work past his own issues. Best case? They both work out some frustrations in their match, but keep it from going too far. Worst case… I’m expecting one, if not both, to end up in the infirmary.”

“What about…” Mic hesitated.

“Midoriya?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s unstable. He’s been unstable. We’ve all read the reports. We’ve seen some of the videos. For all that he’s seemed almost… playful. If he reaches the finals, and it's very likely he will reach the finals… Then he’ll be going against either Todoroki or Bakugou. And I don't know which of those would be worse. Midoriya is the only member of the first years who came ‘Blooded’. And I worry how much a blunt and padded sword is going to stop him from going too far.”

Mic felt his throat go dry, and sipped some more tea.

“And if he doesn’t? If he can keep himself under control?”

“Then this is still a shit show. The festival’s contract means that names and basic histories are revealed. After this… anyone who puts the faces and ages together will realize that Midoriya Izuku is the Simulation Survivor.”

Hizashi could only blink at the realization of just how much that would change things. The teachers had been keeping things quiet… but if the rest of the world started yelling about a killer in UA… things would be tense. “Great. This is going to suck. Is there a reason you didn’t ask him not to compete?”

Aizawa sighed, and sipped at a glass of water. “He’ll be found eventually; at least this way it’s on our own terms, and Midoriya can demonstrate his skills. As long as he doesn’t lose control, this is the best option we have.”

Despite his uneasiness with the situation, Mic had to admit, this was likely the best chance they would have to change Midoriya Izuku’s public image.

Now, it boiled down to if the teen could keep his mind together.

---

Then

Izuku signed out of another computer, before pushing up.

“Nothing here either. Sorry pal.”

He ignored the body on the gurney behind him and fumbled for his crutch, hobbling out.

The A wing was apparently the general area. Colds, minor injuries, check ups. Nothing here was exactly meant to be hard to deal with.

However, that meant he probably had to go to wing C, which according to the directory, was the Quarantine and Surgery wings.

Which meant going up the stairwell nearby and passing through B, which was the long term wing.

Great.

A moment to adjust himself and get moving, and Izuku was on his way.

The doors to the upper floors were easy enough to get to. The first was merely another quarantine code, and the second was one of the orange barricades.

However, it turns out getting through one of the door barricades with one hand was very difficult.

Growling under his breath, Izuku set the wrench on the bolt, for the fourth time, and started to lean.

With only one leg, he couldn’t brace properly, and so he had to hook the bolt, and then yank with his entire body to slowly loosen the jack.

With a final jerk, the bolt loosened and the jack slipped free. Sadly, with all his weight on the jack, with it slipping free, Izuku was sent crashing to the ground.

Biting back the scream of pain as his ruined knee hit the ground, Izuku spent a few moments just laying there, fighting back tears and pushing away the sense of… weakness that was creeping up his spine.

Bringing his breath back under control, Izuku planted his hand on the ground, fist still wrapped white knuckled around the jack, and started crawling back to his feet.

Staggering, he hooked the jack back over his shoulder, and reached out, hooking his fingers over the door jamb, before yanking on it.

With the crash of metal on metal, it went skittering back across the floor.

With a deep breath, Izuku slammed the door button, and opened the way to the Surgery ward.

If the doctor wasn’t here, he was going to be absolutely pissed.

---

Now

Kyouka shivered under the blanket.

She was lucky not to have any frostbite, but the exposure to cold had really not been fun.

She had used her jacket as a buffer earlier on, keeping from getting frozen to the arena by doing a pull up with it.

While the jacket had been a lost cause, it had left her mostly free to move after using her jacks to punch through the ice around her legs.

After that… it was a blur of adrenaline.

It was like when she sparred with Izuku.

There was nothing… coherent. In the moment she had felt in control, but without adrenaline, she just had fragments.

She knew she had scored at least one hit, and her knuckles were bruised to show it.

She thought she remembered a kick?

And that she had been pinned at some point. She remembered her arm encased in ice.

As she sorted her memories of the fight, the screen showed that the arena was once more back into shape.

“And here we go! The first fight of the second round is in less than five minutes! Please, return to your seats and buckle in! It only gets more intense from here!”

She stared at the screen as the profiles of Izuku and Uraraka were displayed.

---

Then

Izuku glanced at the body on the gurney with a mix of confusion and horror.

He was on the computer, looking over the medical report. Doctor Morley’s body was slumped in the corner, almost beyond recognition, but Izuku had looted both a level 3 security card, as well as the doctor's PDA.

And looking through the messages, he was getting a far more terrifying idea of where the alien had come from.

Catherine Foster. Co-captain of the USCSS Anesidora.

The same ship that had come in for emergency medical assistance.

Izuku had thought the alien had smuggled on board.

He was right in a sense, but not about the how.

It was smuggled on board… inside Catherine Foster.

He could only stare, seeing the way the bones had been snapped outwards from the chest. That it had torn its way free through the sternum of its host.

It had hibernated inside of her.

Had used her to grow. To develop.

And suddenly Izuku realized something terrifying.

The video feed…

It had the alien dragging bodies off.

Alive. Bodies.

He shoved the badge and PDA into his pocket, turned, and charged for the door as fast as he could limp.

He needed to get to Kuhlman, get his drugs and improved splint, and get out.

The alien had grown to full size in under 48 hours.

It had been collecting bodies for nearly twice that long before he killed it.

And he had no idea how long the gestation periods were.

---

Now

Ochako gave a shuffle, hopping in place as she lightly shadow boxed in her waiting room.

She was honestly excited. She was wary of Midoriya in the first days of the year. She knew enough to know that she should be cautious. But now? She was facing him down. The Survivor!

She was almost giddy. The fight with Manga from 1-B had been fun! Throwing his own quirk at him was awesome, and the ability to jump and throw the blocks already present had helped so much!

But Manga had been a ranged fighter. Not a melee one. She had to fight him mostly just by throwing things his way faster than he could dodge.

Not like Miss Strife back in Mie.

Miss Strife was old and busy, and hadn’t taught her much, but she did show Ochako the basics, and helped her get them polished up!

But now, she was going to be pushed so hard in this fight!

And she was ready for it. One last tug on the pink wraps around her knuckles and palms to make sure they were tight and snug, and she was prepped!

The chime to head out to the field rang out and she took a second to settle herself before walking out with a smile, feeling hyped by the cheers of the crowd even as she kept her focus on the match.

Across from her, she watched Midoriya step out of the growing afternoon shadow of the far side of the field.

And got shivers. Even looking at him, dressed in the loose shape of the sports uniform, she could read the tension, and the threat, within his stance.

The sword was held loosely in his grip, and his hair and make up hadn’t even been ruffled since he first stepped into the arena over two hours ago.

She gave one last hop and skipped up onto the edge of the arena, keeping her feet shuffling back and forth as she brought her hands up, held loosely curled before her chest.

She focused on Midoriya’s eyes. She could all but hear Miss Strife in her ear.

‘Watch the eyes, and watch the feet. They tell you where the next hits are coming from. You have good instincts! Use them!’

Izuku’s dark eyes were almost dangerous. Every second they seemed to size up and shift focus, the same way that he seemed to dismiss her before the Entrance Exam, over a month ago.

But now… they seemed sharper.

As Midnight ran through the rules once more, for the sake of anyone who wasn’t tuned in already, Ochako tensed.

And across from her, green eyes narrowed their gaze by an increment.

“And with that! BEGIN!”

Both of them broke into charges, Uraraka only swerving enough to drag her fingers over one of the pillars and flick to give it torque, sending it drifting away from the ground in a slow spin.

Meanwhile Midoriya had no such distractions, as well as a much faster step.

The sword tip came around, and Ochako was forced to step back. Her arms came back up as she lashed out, bandaged knuckles tapping out against the blade to knock it off course, even as Midoriya shifted from the languid stance to something more formal, blade pulling back to a two handed stance as he lifted it to rest at eye level.

Ochako wasn’t going to let him set the distance, and instead lunged down, one hand shoving off the ground as she tried to get close.

A twist of his wrist, and the sword came down in a swipe along her arm, twisting to knock her grasping right hand wide, and taking a half step back to avoid an open clawed swipe from her left hand.

Stepping back herself, she let her hand drag against another of the pillars, sending it drifting free of gravity as well.

She wanted him distracted as much as possible, and she knew he would be constantly checking the now floating debris.

“You’re better than I thought,” came the soft compliment, Midoriya once more adjusting to a more centered stance, the blade held out and flat, but tucked closer to his core. More maneuverability, less power, his left hand bracing along the hilt to guide and direct the sword faster.

“Thanks! I practice a lot!”

And with her lunge at him, they resumed their dance of fists and steel.

The blade swiped a series of long threatening curves that forced Ochako to constantly keep her distance in mind. And when she forgot, she got a reminder by the tip of the wrapped blade tagging across her thighs or shoulders. Always aiming for the most debilitating attacks, but none of them were game ending. They were testing. Almost teasing.

Meanwhile, her quirk, and the threat of it, kept Midoriya constantly on the move. Every swipe of her hand or thrust of her palm was a threat that could potentially shift the entire match in her favor.

More than once Midoriya skipped away from a lunge, or ducked around and behind cover to keep his distance.

And because of that, they kept moving.

And every time they were close enough, a pillar became another floating threat. Some were sent drifting across the area. Others were thrown at Izuku and knocked aside, sending them pinging around each and even shattering apart depending on how exactly they hit.

However, Ochako could see it.

It was working!

Midoriya’s eyes kept having to glance and assess the area, and with the dust and constant sound of different blocks hitting or bouncing off each other he kept getting distracted keeping track. Meanwhile Ochako could use the Sixth sense of her quirk to keep track of her floating weapons. And thanks to the nausea medicine she had requested from the support department with her costume, she was able to keep it up for far longer than she used to.

She kept going, kept fighting, ignoring the growing spots where bruises would form across her shoulders and fists.

But finally, she got it.

A side step put him further from her, his sword held up in guard, and she tapped her fingers together.

‘Meteor swarm!’

She didn’t shout it out, but Midoriya must have realized the moment her hands touched.

His eyes glanced up and narrowed in focus.

Half the pillars in the arena, a full eight of the sixteen that had been there at the start, were almost dead center above him, drifting in layers that would overlap where they fell.

Skipping out of the crash zone, Ochako watched with focused eyes as Midoriya ran through a variety of thoughts, almost all of them visible only in his eyes.

Surprise: the glance at the pillars as he took in their placement.

Annoyance: directed vaguely at himself and the situation.

Consideration: reviewing the facts, recognizing that even at his fastest he would still be in the impact zone or out of bounds when they hit.

Amusement: a glimmer of sheer intensity.

And then, focus.

The air became heavy with intent.

Swinging the blade around, he took less then a second to shift to a lower stance, grounded and centered, as the blade came to rest gripped firmly in both hands, gloves tightening on the pommel, his skin flushed and she swore that his muscles shifted.

It was threatening, gloriously composed and almost as if the world around him was frozen.

And as the first of the pillars crashed down, he struck.

The first pillar shattered, splitting into several chunks that scattered away from Midoriya.

The second was nearly split in half, sent the other way with a back hand.

A side step and kick, sending one crashing away, a third swing of the blade, sending one pillar crashing into another as he deflected it.

And then, with a full body swing, he sent the final pillar crashing back into the ground, sending shrapnel across the ring away from him.

But it left him open, for just a single second, his sword out of position and body set away from her. His sword was frayed, splintered wood and torn wrappings hanging loose from the long blade.

His focus was away from her, and that’s all that she needed.

She sprinted as fast as she could, using the still present dust in the air for as much cover as she could.

Even as she moved, Midoriya was swinging back around to meet her charge with a look of gleaming determination.

But she was expecting that.

A sweep of her wrists that felt like slamming into a steel pillar and she sent the blade of the sword up, despite the red lines it drew across her arms with the rough edges.

The alarm flickered on his face, as he was open, and just in range.

Her palm slammed home, and her quirk activated-

“Gotcha!”

---

Then

Izuku stared through the glass as Kuhlman worked at the console.

“Hurry up doc. I need that elevator open now, not later!”

“Yes, yes, I apologize but why the rush? I thought you wanted something for the pain?”

The doctor was clearly nervous. And it had taken more than a bit of convincing to get him to open the elevator lock before getting the medical dispensary open.

As the doors beeped, the elevator lockdown dropped, and Izuku felt a fraction of relief.

“Thank god. Alright doc, you should be good to go.”

Izuku glanced back at the doc’s slightly giddy laugh. “Thank you so much, Midoriya. It’s quite the help.”

The doctor turned to head for the door from the security office, when Izuku felt every hair on his body stand straight up.

“DOC, WAIT-”

He was too late.

The door was already opening, and in the dark of the hallway, a spear tipped tail pierced through his chest.

Another Alien.

Fully grown.

’Fuck, he was right.’

Izuku cursed and slammed the call button for the elevator.

They were breeding!

He didn’t stay to listen to the last gurgled screams of Doctor Kulhman.

Izuku ran.

---

Now

As the blade went up, Izuku knew he had been caught off guard.

He was impressed. It was chaotic, and Izuku had been aware of her goals, but the brunette was nearly as skilled while unarmed as Momo was with her arsenal of weapons. Even holding back and keeping his skills only so high above her skill set, he had been pushed.

He had intended to let her show off somewhat, considering she was in his class and they were… maybe not friends, but quite assuredly acquaintances.

As Uraraka’s open palms came to slam into his chest, he let the hilt slip through his fingers as her quirk came into effect, an absent flick sending the weapon high-

He was remarkably happy that Uraraka came at him full force. It was something fun. Similar to training with Momo and Kyouka.

A rush of energy danced across his skin.

As he felt his weight almost vanish, the force of gravity negated across his body, Izuku ranked her skills ever so slightly higher than he was expecting. But again, he supposed that martial arts were only so useful compared to her quirk in the entrance exams.

Even as he was shoved back, starting to float off the ground, heading for the boundaries of the ring, he kept his eyes locked on Uraraka.

He saw the dawning realization at the lack of concern he was expressing cross her face.

And that’s when his sword came back down into his grip.

The sword that wasn’t under the effects of her quirk.

And like that, Izuku settled back on the ground, the weight of his sword now holding him back onto the cement of the arena, only halfway to the edge that she had pushed him at.

“Nice attempt.”

Shifting slightly, he adjusted to his new center of balance.

The sword was the only thing weighing him down, and he was absurdly happy that he had weighed it down the way he had. Even now, he could feel the way the tape and wood was splintering. He doubted the secrets of his weapon would last for another round, if not the rest of this one. But that was fine.

He had other secrets.

“Shall we go for round two?”

Bending his knees slightly, he adjusted to a bastardized form of Artorias’s style, the blade held across his shoulder to keep his balance centered, drifting lower and legs half crouched as he let his body form a loose triangle centered around the blade. Izuku let a smirk stretch across his lips.

Uraraka lifted her fists back up, and got ready.

‘Time to stop playing around.’

Chapter 37: Fall Damage

Now

'Honestly,’ Izuku thought, bouncing lightly on his feet as he got used to his drastically altered gravity. ‘This is interesting.’

With a shout, Uraraka rushed at him, clearly aiming to attack before he could adapt to his new gravity. With a smirk, he kicked off just before she got in range. He focused on keeping his stance low and balanced as he practically slid around the arena, minute taps of his feet on scattered debris from the fallen pillars sending him skipping off of peaks on what would normally be flat ground, as Uraraka charged after him with some frustration at his speed. Without gravity, he only had to worry about contact points, and keeping his angles clear.

However, as Uraraka lunged after him, aiming to intercept, he decided to test his verticality.

A twist of his leg and a solid stomp to kick off a peak of rubble, and he went from traveling along the ground to being upside down and passing over Uraraka’s lunge.

As she overreached, not hitting him like she planned, Izuku struck.

The lash of the blade was fast, but not as strong as it could have been. With all his weight focused on the blade and nothing to push off of, it had sent his smooth leap into a wobble, and set him spinning.

Izuku frowned even as the sword dragged him back to earth; flexing and using the blade on a back swing, he nullified the spin and flexed his core to reorient himself to the ground where he touched down lightly, the sword once more coming up to rest over his shoulder as he let his left arm lower, dragging his stance lower until his gloved fingertips brushed the concrete.

Across from him, Uraraka recovered from her stumble and reached out, two large chunks of stone lifting with her hands as she braced.

Knowing what was coming, Izuku tensed, finger tips hooking around a fist sized chunk of concrete, while his grip on the sword tightened.

With another shout of exertion, Uraraka twisted and threw the two blocks in quick succession, the stone chunks moving like a professional baseball player’s best fastball.

Twisting, Izuku spun around the first, and lashed out with his sword to shatter the second, sending what was now a cloud of gravel out into the field behind him.

However, the backlash of the strike nearly knocked him off his feet, sending him sliding along the ground.

‘No weight to counter a swing. Equal and Opposite force.’

As he recovered, Uraraka was already charging his way.

‘This is actually difficult to handle.’

With a grin pulling at his lips, he set his feet, and kicked off as hard as he could.

Clearly Uraraka was still expecting a game of keep away, as she barely got her hands up to block the fist he threw.

With the thud of leather on skin, he was sent flipping back up and away, even as Uraraka staggered a half step from the strike.

He couldn’t stand and strike at her the way he wanted.

So he would have to adapt.

With a flicker of his time in Prey, he knew exactly how to do it, too.

He landed and kicked off, going low and nearly diving along the side of the arena, his feet and free hand scrambling along rubble as he adjusted differently.

It was one of the first lessons of space combat, after all.

Orientation is in the mind.

With a twist he flipped over, and landed feet braced against one of the few remaining pillars that Uraraka hadn’t sent floating.

His sword across his back, he locked eyes with her, and she flinched, arms coming back up, as he kicked off like a rocket. This time swinging and twisting to throw his knee at her neck, the glimmer of fear and unease in her eyes at the threat of the attack, even as she ducked and he skid to kick off another chunk of concrete, returning to his threatening circle. He could see it. Where before she was brash and willing to charge, now she was hesitant, second guessing.

It was a game of timing and stamina now.

Who stumbles first?

---

Then

Izuku limped down the hallway as fast as he could, glancing at the arrows leading towards the tram system.

If he could get off the tower, maybe head back to habitation and get to the marshal, he might be able to get more information. More possible ways to deal with the Aliens.

A turn made him blink. A long wall of windows staring out into space on one side, and a variety of couches on the other. Some sort of relation or viewing deck? He even saw the shutter of a coffee shop, closed and locked up, along the way.

“Nice to know some things never change.” Izuku muttered, slowing to catch his breath.

His leg was now a constant throbbing pain, even through the gentle haze of painkillers.

Glancing around, Izuku brought his notebook up and set it on a small counter near the coffee stand.

Flipping through it he tried to figure out where exactly he was…

‘There?... yeah. Viewing atrium F.’

He traced the lines of hallways leading from here he was, trying to find the shortest way to the tram lines…

Nodding, he tossed the notebook back into wherever the simulation kept his files, and started moving again.

However, he hadn’t gone more than a few steps before his crutch slipped out from underneath him.

“God, what the fuck!”

Pushing himself up, he glanced back, and paled.

Where he had just been, glimmering in the starlight, was a small puddle of viscous clear slime.

Familiar slime.

He didn’t look up, just threw himself to the side as an Alien dropped from the vent above him.

‘Stupid Stupid Stupid! I FORGOT ABOUT THE FUCKING VENTS!’

Scrambling for his revolver, he screamed as the Alien’s tail slammed down, through his stomach.

He bit back another scream as the Alien leaned down, hissing at him.

His arm felt heavy, and the pulse of his blood, already spilled enough to be a threat, was making his body feel cold.

Raising the gun, he fired.

Once.

Twice.

And both missed the alien.

It seemed to almost laugh, rising up to its full height…

But Izuku could see it.

A pair of bullets embedded in the glass of the viewing deck.

Cracks.

He fired again.

And again.

And again.

And the Alien ignored it.

But the glass cracked even more, spider webbing stretching across the section of the deck.

As it began to reach down, hand grasping for him, Izuku stared it dead in the face, and fired a sixth time.

With a shatter, the glass broke.

As the rush of air and cold dragged at him out, he kept his eyes on the Alien, watching as it flailed around, panicking, before losing its grip and being sucked out of the glass.

Izuku could only close his eyes as he followed it.

Out into the void of space.

---

Now

Uraraka was riding the high of combat.

The clash of her arms and fists as Midoriya engaged like a pinball on speed. Each strike was weaker than his earlier attacks, a consequence of the lack of gravity and leverage, but he had compensated for that by being extremely unorthodox.

She couldn’t break his stance, because he wasn’t setting one.

She couldn’t slam him to the ground, because he didn’t fall, so much as drift.

She ducked a sword swing, only for his open hand to hit her shoulder and throw him out of combat, only for the sound of his boots on concrete to signal as he darted to the side and back at her.

The issue was that trying to catch his sword might as well be a death sentence.

Yes, it would nullify the last thing holding him down, but to do it she would have to stay close.

And with the way her stomach was beginning to ache, she wasn’t even sure that she could handle that.

Another strike, this time leading with the red blur of his right fist as he closed in, sword held in a reverse grip behind him, each flickering jab like a full body motion that came with a twisting step to use the ground as a firing platform.

She blocked and dodged and weaved, before with a twist she lunged for the sword-

And only caught red ribbon.

And the sword came around from the previously empty right hand, ribbon trailing from the hilt, tightening the loose red loop that now encircled her forearm.

And then she was anchored, her wrist and his bound up tightly.

The thought flickered through her like lightning, the symbolism almost hilarious.

Her wrist and Midoriya's are bound by a red ribbon of fate.

She didn’t let it stop her.

Down a hand each, and unable to disengage, the fight shifted from speed and timing, to endurance.

The red gloved right fist met her stomach, wrapped around the hilt and using the sword's weight to back his hit, sending her nausea spiking, but she didn’t hesitate. With a scream of focus, she slammed her fist out in a brutal punch, which hit his free right shoulder with a sickening crack.

She barely saw the flicker of pain across his expression, before he kicked off, using his lack of gravity to swing around her, feet kicking out to catch her ankle, though she managed to hop over it.

Only for her landing to be yanked off balance as Midoriya went upside down.

Her wrist was twisted with the motion, and she was forced to twist, only for the sword hilt to slam for her temple.

An awkward duck meant it only grazed her temple, but it still sent her staggering, and with a blink she realized he was lacing the fingers of his bound hand with hers, his grip keeping her fingers outstretched.

She barely had time to process that before her own hand was pressed against her stomach, and she felt the surge of nausea, the gleam of her own quirk triggering on herself.

“Lets see how you do without gravity yourself.”

And with a kick, the ribbon unfurled and Midoriya was backflipping across the open air, even as Ochako was sent on a course for the far side of the arena.

With a frantic slap of her hands together, she felt the effects of her quirk shut off, and dropped to the ground below.

However, she cursed at the fact that she couldn’t control what she shut off. It was all or nothing.

And on the far side of the arena, landing with a graceful crouch, Midoirya stood on one of the three still intact pillars, his right hand and the sword held loosely behind him as gloved fingers of his left hand gripped the edge of the pillar like a sprinter on a starting block.

Brown eyes met green.

And then he kicked off and began to charge, using his legs like pistons to all but explode off the ground, the pillar behind him and the concrete he stepped, almost skipped off of cracking under the force of his kicks.

It was all she could do to stagger to her feet, hands coming up in her guard even as she fought the overwhelming urge to vomit.

For a second her vision wavered as her nausea hit hard, and she swore he split into two, just before he recombined into a single graceful threat, twisting with the sword swinging down around him like the executioner's axe.

The sword went high, and so she blocked high.

But she didn’t watch his eyes.

And with a half twist, the high strike was revealed as a feint, the force of the blade passing past her enough to rip at her clothes.

And her legs were swept by a boot and the flurry of red hands and dark green hair filled her vision.

For a moment, it was like the world froze, her stomach lurching at that moment of breathless adrenaline, the sky above her seeming to over saturate and blur out of existence..

And then she was slammed to the ground, her head held in a careful grip, and the rough and ragged wood of a wooden sword held across her throat.

“Checkmate.” The word was whispered, but she knew it was true.

A knee pinned her arm, the sword at her throat, and the gloved hand on the side of her head, fingers threaded through her hair.

She gave a single ragged breath before exhaling in defeat.

“I concede!”

She didn’t listen to Midnight’s announcement that closely. She was trying not to puke on national TV.

It wasn’t until Izuku was standing up, stepping off of his pin that she realized why he had grabbed the side of her skull.

If he hadn’t, she might have been knocked out when her head hit the ground first.

If not something more serious.

Instead, his padded fingers had taken the impact.

As she slowly was pulled to her feet, Midoriya’s hand a steadying influence, she heard him, voice pitched low.

“Good fight. I actually had to push myself.”

It was then that she realized that, no longer hidden by his body’s zero gravity, his right arm was clearly dislocated, sagging under the shoulder of his uniform, fingers locked in a deathgrip the only thing keeping the sword from falling to the ground.

‘Holy shit I dislocated his arm.’

Izuku winked, and then lifted her arm over his neck, hiding his shoulder under her body as the crowd cheered them on.

She stared in amazement as, hidden by her body, she felt his entire shoulder and arm flex and shift, before with a faint pop, his arm was relocated.

That didn’t make her nausea any better.

“Holy shit he beat me with a dislocated arm!?”

Izuku gave a huff of amusement, but kept walking. “I did. You hit like a truck, you know that?”

She flushed as she realized she had spoken out loud.

---

Then

It was a terrifying way to die.

But when Izuku bolted up in the simulation room bed, choking on air, he didn’t want to think about it.

He didn’t want to remember those last moments out in space.

So he stumbled out of bed, one hand barely responding as he felt the most intense sensation of pins and needles he could remember, his brain trying to reconnect to the fact he had a right hand again.

His steps stumbled, one knee locked like he was expecting pain, but it never came.

But, regardless, he stepped into the shower.

And turned the heat on as high as it would go.

For almost half an hour, the only thing that could be heard in the simulation was the sound of water spraying on tile, and the deep, sobbing breaths of Izuku Midoriya.

At the end, steady hands reached out and turned off the water.

Izuku toweled off, and dressed himself. Black slacks and a warm long-sleeve t-shirt were pulled from the closet, and Izuku stepped out into the simulation room once more.

He walked slowly, and lay on the podium, leaning back as the screen rotated out once more.

“Alien: Isolation”

As the world fell away, he ignored the death counter’s gleaming ‘136’.

---

Now

Momo bit her lip even as she darted through the halls towards the medical wing. The fight with Uraraka had wrecked the stage enough that there was a 15 minute break before she had to fight Kirishima.

As she turned the corner, she flinched at the sound of shouting.

“-THE STUPIDEST, MOST RECKLESS THING I’VE SEEN SOMEONE DO IN THE LAST DECADE!”

She rushed for the door. Was someone hurt? Both of them had seemed just fine when they walked off the stage!

Pushing open the door, she paused.

There, shirtless on one of the medical beds, Izuku was sitting with a tight expression, his body tense. At his side, poking and prodding at his shoulder, was the short form of Recovery Girl, who was still ranting about reckless behaviour.

“Relocating your own shoulder, god damn it kid I should remove you from the tournament for lacking a brain!”

“Umm…” Momo was trying to figure out if she should interrupt, even as part of her started trying to process that claim of him relocating his arm.

“I doubt she’ll be stopping soon.”

The voice drew her gaze to the beds to the other side of the small room, where Kyouka still sat, wrapped up in a heated blanket, and Uraraka stood next to her, body covered in bandages around her arms and an icepack held against her side.

“What happened?”

Uraraka blushed and glanced away, even as Kyouka deadpanned.

“Gravity Girl here hit his shoulder so hard she dislocated it. And then Green decided the best solution would be to finish the match, then relocate his arm by flexing his bones back into place.”

Momo could only blink.

“What?”

Recovery Girl must have stormed off, because Izuku's dry tone cut in.

“It’s not the first time I’ve reset my own joints.”

All three of them turned to see Izuku standing by his cot, looking towards them, his shirt and jacket in hand, and his shoulder wrapped with white bandages.

“It sucks, but I'm used to not having a medic on hand.” He glanced further into the room, where Recovery Girl had vanished behind a wall into an office. “Which is apparently a habit I should break.”

“How’s your shoulder?” Uraraka looked guilty, eyeing his shoulder.

“Not too bad. Just sore.” with a shift he started pulling his shirt back on.

With a start, Momo realized his hands were bare.

“Where’s your gloves?”

Izuku smirked softly as he rolled the shirt back over his stomach. “Relax, I'll be more than equipped for our fight. Don’t worry about padding your weapons either, just blunt them and I’ll be fine.”

“But, that can break bones?! I don’t want to seriously injure you!”

The dry look that Izuku tossed her way may as well have tasted like sand, and he reached out to snag the sword nearby.

With deft hands he unwrapped the cloth, and shook it, chunks of wood falling to the ground… and the gleam of metal glaring through where it had covered.

“If you pad your weapons, I expect mine will rip right through it.”

The three girls starred, taking in the thick bar of metal that was apparently hiding under the cloth and wooden sheath.

“That's what kept you grounded! I knew that sword was too heavy!”

Izuku nodded, and braced it’s rounded point on the ground as he sat back, leaving it to lean on his leg. “Almost seven Kilograms.”

“What the hell? How the fuck do you move so fast with that?”

Izuku shrugged, but there was a gleam across his eyes. “It’s not the heaviest thing I've swung at someone. And I’m not putting all my force behind it usually. Just letting momentum carry it is enough.”

“Damn, green.”

Momo wanted to ask more, but the speakers came on, calling her and Kirishima to the field.

“I have to go!”

“Good luck!”

“Go get em.”

With Kyouka and Uraraka’s voices behind her, she barely caught Izuku’s smile as she rushed by. But she definitely heard him speak as she passed.

“See you next round, Momo.”

---

Then

Izuku stared at the map, glancing around.

“They need to be somewhere, right? Where are all the bodies going?”

It was almost a dozen runs after his first run into the medical wing.

He sighed and turned the door once more, pausing at the sight of another welded off access patch, before sighing.

He had avoided medical and communications entirely this time, grabbing the sensor and then heading the other way, deeper into the depths of the station.

In fact, he was fairly certain that he was somewhere under the AI core all together.

Walking up to the door, he knelt and pulled his newest tool from his belt.

A twist of the valve, and a test of the trigger, and Izuku pulled down a pair of blacked out welding goggles, before using the handheld blow torch to cut through the lock over the manual access panel.

It was slow going, a matter of patience. Too fast and the metal wouldn’t be cut through. Too slow and he might cut into the door mechanisms. And he didn’t have endless amounts of gas for the cutter anyway. With a slow hand, he completed his circuit of the panel and reached up, gloved hands pulling at the edge before flicking it out and dropping it to the floor.

A pull of the switch, a shift of the lever, and the door slowly slid open several inches. Glancing through Izuku helfted the motion detector and flicked it on.

A slow, peaceful, beep.

Nothing on the other side that was moving. With careful hands Izuku pulled the door open, and moved through.

He wished he had found a new shotgun. It would have been really damn nice when walking through the most cramped hallways in the goddamn station.

Instead, he reached back to the long holster on his hip and pulled out a sharpened metal stake.

Steel bar in a half inch round stick, a grinder, and duct tape was more than adequate, even if they didn’t last long. They weren’t pretty by any means, but they would put down a Synth if he got it in the right place.

His current plan for Aliens, however, was ‘Fuck No.’

So, with slow steps, Izuku advanced into the depths of the station's Engineering department.

It was almost a tower unto itself, built underneath the medical and communication towers. He peeked around corners, and moved slowly. Practice had taught him how to step quietly, but it still took a lot of his attention to do.

A peek around another corner, a glance through windows, and the slow process of searching for gear.

He glanced at his watch, thinking.

If the Torrens was still arriving at the same time he heard from the first communications, then they would be here… in less than a day.

Ducking into a storage closet to avoid a patrolling Synth, Izuku closed his eyes.

He needed information.

Where did the aliens stay, were they free roaming or did they nest?

Was there a weapon that would kill them easier?

And, most importantly, how did he access the APOLLO core? Its Mother AI was in charge of all the synth behavioural programs, and if he could reconfigure them to attack the Aliens… It would be a distraction if nothing else.

Pulling up his map, Izuku started paging through the notebook.

If he could find the programmer and AI maintenance location… that might be what he needed to get to the core.

After all, as Izuku was learning: janitors, mechanics, and cleaners had the keys to go everywhere.

---

Now

Momo stepped out onto the field with a deep breath, and looked across to see Kirishima stretching and waving to the crowd, a broad, sharp-toothed smile at the cheering that came back.

Momo however, was trying to center herself.

She was already considering the weapons she wanted to use, and felt the soft hum of her quirk through her stomach.

As she and Kirishima came to rest standing across from each other, she brought her arms up, and Kirishima did the same, taking an open stance, his arms held low and wide.

‘I guess if you can shug off hits, then going for a more aggressive stance is better…’

“Ready, BEGIN!”

Kirishima charged right off the bat, feet thudding as he ran, stance low and arms stretched out as he headed straight for her.

And Momo reached for her quirk, mind spinning through blueprints and structures even as she darted to the side, behind one of the concrete pillars as she burned fat and stored material into a new form.

‘Lucerne, the war hammer.’

She could hear the thud of Kirishima’s boots, and could predict the path he would choose.

As such, when Kirishima shattered through the pillar like it was made of cardboard, she met him with the polearm to the gut. The staff of the weapon was shorter than her usual quarterstaff, but the weighted end was going to make all the difference, a wide short disk wreathed in rubber turning it into a hammer head.

The sound of the padded metal head hitting him in his gut was only matched by her grunt of exertion as she was sent sliding back before her feet caught on the concrete.

It worked through, Kirishma was set staggering back, cracks forming over his stomach where the hammer had met him, and not letting her momentum die, Momo leapt into a series of twisting swings, bringing the hammer around like a pendulum at every opportunity.

The padding didn’t last long, Kirishima’s hasty guard tearing at and eventually through the covering, leaving only smooth metal to clang off of his hardened form. The same happened to his clothes. Large tears of hardened skin and metal ruining the cloth and revealing more hardened skin across Kirishima’s chest and shoulders.

However, she could see it.

Each strike was moving him less and less, as he hardened and set his stance better to react to the kinetic force.

Twisting she darted in, and jabbed the unweighted end towards his face, only for him to take the hit across his cheek and throw a punch which nearly clipped her hip.

And like that, the momentum she was banking on was gone.

Twisting around Momo ducked another hit, and had to block a third, before slamming the hammer down in a weaker blow that barely distracted the now grinning Kirishima as he closed the distance. Together they danced back and forth across the arena, Kirishima smashing at her guard and forcing her to put every inch of speed and distance she could to avoid each blow. Her hammer was swinging out desperately to try and trip or deflect him enough for her to build up momentum again.

Tripping as she over extended, the hardened fist of Kirishima slammed his hands onto the handle of the hammer as she blocked, and the metal twisted, even as she was shoved back first against a pillar. For a moment both of them struggled, hands fighting for control of the hammer even as she was pushed harder against the pillar.

She could see it though, he was reaching his limits, parts of his face and stomach losing the hardened look that he had across his arms still.

Grimacing, she raised her legs and kicked him in the gut as hard as she could, using his own pin against the pillar for leverage. The kick sent him back, and a snap of metal giving way rang out as he was sent staggering. With a sharp exhale, she dropped the half of her weapon that had the hammerhead, holding onto the other half of the hilt.

She called on her quirk and a second short stave fell from her arm, and she caught it, shifting from wide polearm stance to a much more focused one, the staves coming up to guard even as Kirishima got his balance back.

Escrima

The clash was much faster now.

Without the weight of the hammer, she was able to move faster, but as a consequence she couldn’t block with the Escrima unless she used both sticks.

The ringing of steel and hardened flesh picked up once more, this time a much faster tempo as Momo hit Kirishima in as many places as she could.

‘Arms, shoulders, neck, head, chest, knee, leg, thigh, side, chest, neck, shoulders, gut, sides, chest, deflect-’ the mantra consumed her thoughts as she tested and pushed Kirishima, the red-haired brawler grinning even as Momo gritted her teeth and sped up.

And then with a twist of his fist, a haymaker that was too close too fast, she brought her sticks up to block. But instead of a fist, his hand landed on the crossed weapons and clenched, pinning them in place.

And leaving her wide open.

His fist to her gut was enough to send her staggering, and as she loosened her grip, Kirishima tossed the sticks away and charged.

Thankfully, he didn’t capitalize on her weakness fast enough, as Momo ducked and twisted, leaving another pillar to take his fist and crumble. They had carved a path of destruction from the center of the arena to the very edge.

‘I’m not running on empty, but I don't have a lot of leeway. This next weapon has to finish this.’

She ran through her mental armory. Something she could use to get reach. A way to pin him down, keep him from chasing.

‘A weight, and a closed hook-’

With a deep breath, she darted at Kirishima even as her next weapon started forming.

‘-Patterned links of pale white titanium, lined up perfectly, each link forming around the last-’

He swung at her head, and she dropped to a slide, cursing the pain of her knees slamming on the concrete even as she caught the weapon forming from her side-

‘-A second weight to cap it-’

From her hand she lashed out, and pale links of chain whipped around, a weight dragging it out to tangle around Kirishima’s knees as the other teen yelped.

‘-Kusari-fundo.‘

The weighted chain caught, looping on itself as she yanked, pulling Kirishima off his feet as she twisted and started to tug, the sound of concrete and hardened flesh slamming together as she twisted and pulled.

She couldn’t let him settle, she had to keep him moving, so she yanked and twisted, and the sound of him dragging across the concrete followed as she stepped and dragged, building up speed as much as possible before the edge, before ending with a heave.

And with a yelp, Kirishima went sliding out of the ring, onto the grass.

And Momo was left panting, as the crowd cheered.

Chapter 38: Scripted events

Now

Blood dripped down the long, jagged edge of a blade, leaving an almost artistic splatter as a worn hand gave it a flick to clean the crimson from the metal.

Across the alley, blood dripped from a variety of slashes marring sleek white armor.

“Pathetic. Another fake hero.” The words were gruff, almost venomous.

Body limp under the effects of the other’s quirk, Iida Tensei could only muster a defiant stare.

“All of you heroes, all of your propaganda and advertising, and yet you all fall by my hands the same.” The sword was smoothly put to rest in its sheath, and spiked combat boots strode across the concrete of the ally. “You spend so much time on image. Not skills, not action.”

As rough hands yanked at Tensei’s jaw, he had no choice but to stare at the bloodshot crimson eyes of the Hero Killer.

“I do wonder, fake. What was so important that you stopped your patrol, that you hesitated? It made my hunt for you much more difficult than I preferred.”

Red eyes searched Tensei’s face, looking over each twitch and flinch.

And he caught the slightest flicker.

To the phone on the ground.

Striding over, Stain picked up the phone and saw the paused screen. A close up shot of a younger teen, square jawed and with familiar looking engines in his calves.

A slow measuring glance at the image, and Stain looked back at the form of Tensei, still slumped and immobile.

“See, this is why you are a fake. This is why you failed.” A disdainful toss of his wrist and he shattered the phone across the brick wall. “You are divided. Your focus is impure.”

Tensei met red eyes with his own steel grey, and didn’t flinch. He forced his breathing to steady out, and refused to move or give quarter.

“Perhaps I should assist you with this… failing of yours.”

Tensei felt the slightest give in his muscles, the lightest of shifts, allowing the numbing to fade ever so incrementally. As Stain leaned down, inspecting him, he bit out slurred words.

“Yull… nevv’r….wim...” The spittle sprayed flecks of blood over the other man's face, but the vigilante merely stared with that same maddened gaze, long tongue wiping the blood splattered on his lips and re-establishing his hold on the fallen hero.

Stain gave a soft chuckle, a sound steel over gravel. “Oh my, what a faker you are... I’m going to enjoy ruining you.”

The rasp of metal on leather filled the air as from his boot Stain drew a long curved knife.

“Let’s start with those engines you have.”

On his thigh, Tensei could feel the faint vibrations of his communicator. He had missed his check in.

His last thought was that he only hoped his team would get there soon.

And then there was nothing but pain.

---

Then

Izuku glanced across the wall, long since plastered with a massive map of Sevastopol. Red markings traced across the wall, all of them slowly growing denser and more tightly clustered as he reached further and further into the system. Sticky notes clustered each point, with both times and numbers.

Pacing back and forth he traced lines of red string, marking paths he could get through.

There were things he needed to get, and the paths were never set in stone. Shotgun, Security Tuner, the advanced data core for the Tuner, a flamethrower, the plasma cutter to bypass the sealed doors.

Beyond that, he needed to find and isolate the Weyland-Yutani command codes that governed the Synth response to the Aliens, and access the Mother AI.

And if he can do that, he might just be able to figure out where the aliens have made their nest.

So far he had narrowed it down to the lower half of the station, and his current possibilities were the freight shipping area below the habitation towers, the deeper sections of Engineering far below San Cristobal medical, or the station's Reactor Core.

He really hoped it wasn’t the core, considering how heavily secured and dangerous that part of the station was, but he was resigned to the idea it would be the nest.

The only upside is that he would likely be able to overload the reactor and purge the nest if it was there… and possibly send the station on a crash course for the nearby planet.

That option got more appealing each time he ended up killed by the fucking aliens.

---

Now

Izuku leaned against the wall next to one of the locker rooms, and breathed quietly, his body tense with the uncomfortable sounds he was hearing from behind the door. Uraraka had mentioned needing to go store all her arm wrappings, as well as get her phone from her locker. What he hadn’t expected, waiting for her, was to pick up the sound of her phone ringing.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help but hear the way her voice hitched.

Izuku hadn’t meant to overhear her answer her parents call… but the sobbing had caused him to freeze up.

He listened to the faint sobs, his rising pulse drowning out the details as he felt his hard fought sense of calm shift. He pushed off the wall.

He didn’t want to hear any more.

But inside… that tight-held wall that was keeping his darker thoughts in check began to crack.

‘I caused that, didn’t I?’ He began to stride away, face blank and body tense and closed off. ‘I don’t want fame. I don’t need to win. So why… Why did I push so hard? I could have tapped out at any time.’

‘I could have just given up, right?’

It wasn’t the first time he had thought of that particular phrase. In fact, the last time….

The dark red glow of Lost Izalith still burned the very air. His voice was hoarse but across from him, a brightly gleaming light… and a monstrous star shaped insect that provided it.

His tears streaked down, sizzling over the pale flesh of undeath that he was clad in, while his hand, tight around the nameless sword in his hand, began to tremble.

”… Finally, I have found it, I have it! My very own sun… I am the sun!”

Izuku could only choke back a sob, the heat burning him almost an afterthought to the sheer pain that filled his heart. But, he knew what to do. With heavy hands, he lifted the blade in his hands, and leveled it at his mentor-

He cut the memory off, taking a deep breath as he forced his heartbeat lower. A moment later, he paused on the way to the arena, and tilted his head.

Bakugou was walking past, heading to face his next opponent.

Izuku gave a nod, and moved to pass him, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other held the sword, hilt up, across his shoulder.

“Hey, Deku.”

A slowed step.

“Yeah, Kacchan?”

For a moment silence stretched out, the blond biting at his lip as he searched for words.

“Half and Half has some trauma. Stuff to do with his dirtbag of a father. I’m going to try and knock him out of it.”

Calculating green met piercing red, and Katsuki felt as if the world was fading out, leaving only the cold assessing gaze of Izuku to overwhelm him.

Izuku gave a slow blink, breaking the staring contest, before shifting the sword and heading back for the stands. “If you don’t break his pride, I can break his fear. But it won’t be pretty.” Izuku didn’t look back.

And behind him Katsuki gave a soft scoff, but it was a sign of acceptance.

Izuku couldn’t help flexing his hands. There was too much going on. Too many layers of uncertainty and personal stakes. The memories were close to the surface, the crowd too loud and the rules nearly suffocating.

It was hard… Hard to keep his blows soft.

He could feel the warm stickiness of blood stains on his hands even wrapped under dry crimson. He flexed fingers tightly around the hilt of his blade, despite knowing his hands were clean and dry.

Momo could handle the edge of his darker impulses, and facing her wouldn’t push him beyond his binds, same with Kacchan… but if he faced Todoroki…

If he was forced to watch one of the strongest quirks in class cripple himself in pride and fear, and then sneer at him for his lack of strength…

The mere thought sent an ache that he was scared of through his spine.

If he faces Todoroki… then nothing will be certain.

If he faces Todoroki, there will be blood.

---

Then

Izuku crashed through the door, panting as blood seeped through the myriad lacerations that laced up his arm, layered with the bright red marks of an electrical burn.

He pushed himself up and ran.

‘I found it. It’s taken over a week but I fucking found it!’

He hit the ground at a slide to make it around the corner, faster, before rising back to his feet and sprinting as the distant sounds of a Working Joe called out, echoed by the screaming and hissing of an Alien far behind him.

He didn’t blink as he dropped another smoke bomb and a noisemaker at the intersection, darting past another surprised Working Joe even as he slammed an elevator button.

Correction, the hissing sounds of not one, not two, but three Aliens was behind him.

Izuku ignored the pain of the massive claw marks across his back.

He ignored the ache of his muscles.

It had taken too long, way too long, but he saw it now.

He knew where the nest was, could see the threat for what it was.

He knew how to win Alien: Isolation.

The elevator opened, and he ducked inside, slamming the controls to close the door and pressing the button for the lower floors even as he lept for the ceiling, hands hooking on the edges of the already open emergency exit, as it was how he had gotten down here in the first place.

He drew himself up, and clambered for the ladder leading up. If he was right, the Aliens would follow the sound of the elevator down, while he could head up.

He was halfway up the shaft when he heard the beeping, a timer he had set earlier going off.

Tapping his comms to swap to a line he opened up earlier, he took a breath. He had to do this right; last time they hadn’t taken him seriously and everyone on the ship had died. “Sevastapol to Torrens, come in Torrens.”

For a moment, there was static before with a beep the voice of the ship captain came in. “This is Torrens, Status?”

“Thank god you’re in range. The station is under quarantine: we have a race of hostile lifeforms on station, and it’s killing us off. I’m trying to set the station on a decaying orbit, but our Mother AI is currently hostile. Stay off the station.”

“What? Jesus Christ. What can we do?”

“I’m in the middle of trying to set the station on a crash course for the planet, but it’s not working great. Keep a holding pattern? I’ll try and get more confirmation as we go, but unless someone on your ship has an administration access code to get to the Mother AI, I’m going to do this manually. Most of the survivors are a lost cause, but if we time it right we can get the last major hold outs off station.”

“Uh, this is Christopher Samuels, I’m the Weylan-Yutani representative for our mission, and I have administration access to all AI facilities under our control. Perhaps I can help?”

Izuku froze. That was new.

“Fuck, yeah. Give me some time and I'll contact you, but my advice? You might need to prepare for a space walk. Getting too close to the station is a bad idea.”

“What do you mean?”

Izuku flinched, the memory of an alien punching through his space suit several runs ago flashing through his mind. “Lets just say that the hostile lifeforms don’t die in vacuum. Keep your fucking distance.”

“...Understood… Torrens out. Good luck.”

Izuku let the channel go silent, and shifted back to his climb.

He had the blueprints and the console codes he needed. And as he rose closer to the communications tower, he glanced at his watch.

Day 88:10:10

Death Count: 194

It had been a long fucking month.

---

Now

Iida strode through the hallway with a determined set to his shoulders, and paused at the archway looking out onto the field as he took a deep breath.

And then he stepped into the sun.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Your third match of the quarter finals! The explosive-fueled Bakugou Katsuki! Against the speedster Iida Tenya! It’s the secretary and Vice-president of 1A, clashing for their right to move on!”

With steady steps, Iida paced onto the arena, watching Bakugou march up the far sides, hands already flexing at his sides.

‘This might be my last chance to prove myself!’ He leaned forwards as the crowds cheered ever louder. ‘My family is watching! I will make my brother proud!’

With the rev of his engines, he took a runner's stance, while across from him Bakugou crouched low, fingers and palms sparking with the power of his quirk.

As Midnight started the match, Iida kicked off, engines firing at full speed as quickly as he could.

Bakugou rushed to meet him, and Iida began to strafe as he closed in, swerving with as much precision as he could.

He was faster, and as Bakugou made it past the first of the concrete blocks, heading for him, he focused, and darted to the side, lining up his shot.

With a flare, Iida felt the strain of his engines going as much as he could before using Recipro Burst.

With a spark of flame he surged forwards traveling from where he was with a crack of air and the roar of his engines. At the last second, he cut one leg's thrust, and twisted, before he hit his target.

The stone pillar that was right next to Bakugou.

With the crack of his boot on stone, he turned it into shrapnel and sent the larger chunks of concrete slamming into his opponent-

Only to be met with a burst of flame and sound as Bakugou met the assault with his own quirk.

“YOU’RE MINE!”

And then Bakugou was there-

Iida ducked under a palm that sent a burst of flames just past his shoulder, and fired off another burst of engine, kicking out to sweep Bakugou’s legs-

A twist and a blast of explosion righted Bakugou’s fall before he could hit the ground-

A punch thrown at the blonde was batted aside, and Iida twisted around a returned jab, smoldering with explosive potential-

Iida wasn’t unfamiliar with hand to hand, but he could hear the words from months ago ringing in his ears as he was pushed on the defensive.

As he disengaged, leaping back and feeling the traces of burns from a close call across his shoulder, the cool tone of Midoriya’s voice rang through his mind.

“Bakugou is a fighter to the core. His skillset is built and refined around destructive close quarters combat with a focus on rapid and high intensity engagement.”

Iida darted around the blonde, the thrust of his engines pushed to the limit of what was comfortable.

But he couldn’t stop here.

He charged in again, and the two clashed, explosive blasts met by kicks backed by the thrust of his engines.

Iida strained, but he just wasn’t fast enough to break through Bakugou’s defense. The blonde was viciously competent, and his instinct was second to none.

He met every strike before it could impact for the most damage, and Iida’s arms were burned and hurt by the blasts of explosion that he was forced to deflect or dodge, the sleeves of his uniform charred and ragged from the fight.

Finally though, he got a chance, a single opening where Bakugou blasted backwards from a kick that almost took the blonds head off, and still brushed blonde hair.

But it was an opening.

Stomping his foot back down, he pushed his engines.

With a spark, the reddish heat of his engines surged, and blue flames ripped from the vents as Iida leaned forwards, and braced.

“RECIPRO-”

The surge of power flooded his legs, as he kicked off, and the world around the edges of his vision was lost to a blur of color. He focused solely on Bakugou, the blonde meeting his determined gaze with a demonic snarl of sheer adrenaline.

“BURST!”

The next second was a blur of motion, as he shot across the space between him and Bakugou.

The first impact was him slamming into Bakugou, arms wrapping around the teens legs to drag his body with him.

The second was the block behind Bakugou, the concrete shattering as Iida smashed the blond through the block. He wouldn’t have done this if he wasn’t aware of the fact that the cover blocks were made of weakened concrete, and were designed to crumble and shatter like glass under hits.

The third impact was the next block, Iida curving to meet it as he used Bakugou as a battering ram.

As it burst into dust and shattered chunks, he swerved to try and meet a fourth-

And the blast of an explosion and the twist of Bakugou’s torso threw his balance off.

With a shout, both teens separated, their combined momentum sending the two bouncing across the arena.

Iida shook his head, and blinked at the cracks across his glasses. The impact resistant glass of his lenses has reached a breaking point.

As he staggered to his feet, he saw Bakugou already stalking across the arena, his over shirt torn to rags and dust falling from blond hair as the other teen scowled.

Iida began to charge, and stumbled.

His engines misfired.

And that gave Bakugou an opening.

The explosive blonde closed the distance, a blast of fire marking a quirk fueled lunge before he was in Iida’s teeth.

Heavy blows were met by burned arms, and guards and stances were broken. Without the compensation of his heavier kicks, Iida could only fall back under the barrage.

It was only Bakugou’s mercy, or perhaps his sense of fair play, that meant he didn’t take explosions to his face, but fists instead.

Iida desperately tried to hold out, to meet him with his own attacks-

-a flicker of his engines finally surged-

-and his moment of relief left him unguarded, his arms dropping by the slightest of degrees-

The final blow was lightning fast, and completely unexpected.

But it was more than enough.

With the crack of knuckles on his skull, Iida took a shot to the head.

And with a stagger, he collapsed, but even as the world went dark around him, he could hear those haunting words come back to him.

‘So, hero? What's your play?’

And much like last time, he didn’t have an answer as the world went black.

“AND JUST LIKE THAT! THE EXPLOSIVE BATTLE OF SPEED COMES TO A DECISIVE CLOSE! BAKUGOU KATSUKI MOVES ON BY KNOCKOUT!”

Not far from the arena, a phone rang out in a locker.

It wouldn’t be answered for some time.

---

Then

Izuku glanced over the communications consoles, tapping at the computer while his notebook lay open, lines of code copied in from where he had found them as he compiled the code he needed. It was painstakingly long, but with all the Synths that normally hung out up here piled in the corner, he was hoping that he had time. As he put in the last chunk of code, he hit the option to compile-

The echoing bang of a flashbang and the scream of an alien broke him from his thoughts.

“Shit, it’ll have to do.” Tapping the option to download it to a disk, Izuku hefted his shotgun from where it was set, duct taped to the flamethrower he had found in the depths of engineering.

With a screech, one of the vents on the far side of the room irised open and an Alien came charging out.

Only to trip off the pipe bomb he had planted above the opening, wiring it to a proximity sensor.

The explosion sent it scrambling across the ground, stunned, as Izuku opened fire, arms braced and shotgun loaded.

By the time he unloaded the third round, it was bleeding and it’s left arm was hanging by a thread, and as it tried to lunge at him he darted to the side and opened fire with the flamethrower, painting it across the monster's open wounds.

‘One… two… three…’ and with the fourth shot added to the flames, it sent the alien scrambling away.

And with a screech it took off, one arm left behind and acid eating at the floor as it fled.

And Izuku turned to sprint for the door, only stopping to snag the floppy disc with his code before he made a break for the elevator.

By the distant sounds of screeching, he had more aliens flocking to their wounded member, he didn’t have time to waste.

“Midoriya to Torrens, can I get an ETA on that space walk?”

“Torrens here, we have maybe 45 minutes before we can deploy a line to the APOLLO core’s airlock.”

“Fine, see you there. Tell Samuels to go straight for the core if I’m not there when you show up.”

Izuku tapped the comms before he could get a reply, already in the elevator as it dropped down towards the tram station. Taking a moment to breath, he tapped open a different channel.

“Marshal, I've got hostiles on my tail and I'm heading for KG-348. Get ready.”

“Will do kid, godspeed and good luck.”

The door opened, and he sprinted out and across Lorenz Lobby, leaping over seats and tables as he made for the far side of the Tram System and the doors heading lower down to Gemini Exoplanet Solutions. He was almost at the doors by the time he first heard the distant screeching of the Aliens crawling into the lobby behind him.

‘It’s gonna be a tight window… but I can do it… I can end it on this run.’

He slammed through the door like a hound out of hell, and cleared the entirety of the stairwell with a leap before rolling to his feet and sprinting down a long hallway, yanking and dropping a flashbang with a proximity sensor behind him.

He needed the Aliens to be close enough to corner him, but far enough away to not see the trap.

He needed them pissed.

He’d injured them before, wounded them and hurt them, left traps that crippled one or two. They weren’t invincible. But they were hunters… and when one of them was killed, the others responded with more aggression.

It had taken a lot of very painful experimentation but he thinks he figured it out. This… grudge mechanic. It had happened in Freddy’s with the and he didn’t have the context to recognize it. The monsters in each run were responding to him. Hurting an alien would make it focus on him, on hunting him down. Damaging but not killing a Synth would leave them to chase or ambush him later on.

But he also learned that the more he aggravated an Alien, the more focused they would get. Either stalking him through the corridors, or planning ambushes.

And with the chase already on, he knew they would be hunting for a way to intercept him.

And that was the key to his plan. He needed them to try and plan ahead of him.

‘That’s right… After all, The labs are a dead end. It’s an obvious place to corner me, isn’t it you fuckers.’

---

Now

Todoroki paced through the corridor with singular purpose.

The quarter-finals were coming to a close, and he was closing in on his goal. The time between matches was more than enough to recover from the cold of his quirk, as well as any other side effects.

He ignored the faint echo of nausea that still rose, and the time he had spent barely able to stand after his match with Jirou. It was a fluke, nothing more. It had to be.

He stepped past one of the last corners, and slowed.

Midoriya Izuku stood there, dark eyes gleaming in the half light of the tunnel.

The green haired teen was watching him with a blank expression, his body loose as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

For a long moment they both stared at each other, tension building as they stared.

With a slow and casual motion, Izuku pushed off from the wall and walked past Shoto, heading back down the hall.

At the last moment before he headed around the corner back into the bowels of the arena, a murmur reached Shoto’s ears, and sent a surge of rage, white-hot and poisonous through him.

“Your power is wasted, Todoroki.”

He spun, feeling his quirk writhing under his skin at the comment.

But Midoriya was gone.

And he had to go to the arena.

He pushed his emotions down, shoving them into that deep pit of rage that burned like the scar that adorns his face.

He didn’t have time for this. He needed to focus.

He strode out onto the arena with his face locked down into sheer stoic ice. The faster he defeated the blonde from 1B, the faster he could move on. Two more fights after this would end the day. He would prove to his father that he didn’t need his flame, only his mother’s Ice.

“THE ICE KING OF 1A HIMSELF! TODOROKI SHOTO! AND HIS OPPONENT! THE COPYCAT OF 1B, MONOMA NEITO!”

Todoroki knew his game plan for the blonde. Distance and ice would be all he needed, considering that Monoma couldn’t copy a quirk at a distance.

However, as he tensed and prepared for a fight, something felt off.

Monoma wasn’t taking a stance to get closer.

“BEGIN!”

As Todoroki drew on his quirk, he threw out his hand, focusing to send a massive surge of ice at his opponent. If the blonde didn’t want to come to him, he would be more than-

His inner thought ground to a halt.

Because, instead of the glacier consuming the blonde, a familiar and terrifying sensation of heat rushed out.

And the center of the glacier, where it shattered and turned to steam, familiar flames flowed from Monoma.

His father's flames.

Chapter 39: Burn Damage

Summary:

As the Quarterfinals end, and the semi-finals begin, tensions only rise.

The end of the tournament is in sight, and everyone is waiting to see who rises above.

On Sevastapol, Izuku finds the answers that have been haunting him, and decides to finish the scenario now, and not later.

Then

Izuku slammed through the door, hearing the screech of the Aliens chasing him as he entered the lab, and sprinted down the outer hall before skidding around the corner. With his boots slipping on a pool of blood, he scrambled to right himself and hooked his hand around a door frame as he swung around and through the next door, into the center of the labs, before skidding to a stop at a generator.

 

He pushed the primer and started cranking the manual start, ignoring the growing screams of the Aliens even as the generator started up—sputtering before it settled back into a low drone—sending the lights in the labs flickering as they were taken off of the emergency power, and causing the computer banks around him to come to life.

 

“Marshal, the lab is powered on and I've got the Aliens closing in. Be ready on my signal.”

“ Will do, son! I’ve got the systems up.”

 

Izuku threw out a pair of smokes and a flashbang behind him, before he tapped in the last few commands on the console. With a beep, the lab’s intercom rang out, a mechanical voice speaking up.

 

“T-30 seconds to laboratory lockdown.”

 

“Right. Now for the tricky part.”

 

He took off at a sprint back through the lab, and hit the deck at a slide as an Alien lunged through the smoke, before pushing back to his feet and dropping another bomb before he leapt over the blood stain and landed back in the hall.

 

The flashbang rang out behind him and sent the Alien staggering, while he twisted and threw a pipe bomb back through the doorway.

 

The screech of aliens and the blast of the bomb echoed as he sprinted for the door. As he got close, the voice spoke up once more.

 

“Five... Four...”

 

He slammed into the frame and the door slid open, his body darting through before it was even completely open, as he sprinted for the next doorway. Around him, the short hallway was flashing with red lights, and a sign was lit up, blinking.

 

Warning, Explosive Decompression Imminent.

 

“Three… Two…”

 

He reached out and slammed the button, closing the door behind him as he lunged through the slowly closing doors back into the rest of Sevastopol.

 

He was halfway through when the loop of a chitinous tail caught his ankle.

 

Twisting, he scowled and snapped the revolver up as he braced himself against the entrance and unloaded, the Alien half-through the first door screeching even as claws and talons scraped at the door frame.

 

“ Warning: Exterior door open!”

 

Izuku fired again and reached up to tap his comm, yanking his foot free, flinching as the blade of the tail cut his leg open, the Alien screaming as Izuku twisted, dropping his gun to reach out and hook his arm around a pipe nearby.

 

“DO IT!”

 

There was a blast of sound, and then a muffled whoomp. Izuku had one last chance to take a deep breath, and then brace.

 

Through the still opened door, he could feel the pulse of the explosive bolts before decompression hit.

 

The Project KG348 lab was designed for hazardous material research and study. And because of that, it had the most stringent quarantine measure on the entire ship: it could be detached and fired off station.

 

And take anything with it into the gravity well of the local gas giant.

 

The open door that had once led to the labs was now a gap leading out to the void of space.

 

Izuku cracked his eyes open against the rushing pressure of the station venting out into the void of space, seeing the way the air was rushing from deeper into the station past him. Tense as he could, he reached up from where he was laying, hand scrambling along the side of the airlock as he tried to- there.

 

He barely saw the chitin of an Alien, sent floating into the void of space, before he yanked on the manual lever for the door.

 

With a slam of metal locking into metal, it shut.

 

Without the rush of decompression tearing at him, Izuku dropped heavily to the floor breathing deep gasps as he felt the room repressurize.

 

“-kid? You there? Kid?”

 

Reaching up, he tapped at the earpiece before finally finding the button.

 

“Alive… Lab’s out of here... at least three of the Aliens went with it.”

 

“Holy shit, kid.”

 

Izuku could only broadcast a laugh back before he pushed to his feet, and started staggering back through the halls.

 

“Heading to the AI Core now. One of the people on the Torrens should have valid access codes… And if not, I do have explosives and a plasma cutter.”

 

“Understood. We’ve locked down the mall back on the Habitation Tower, but the Synths are starting to gather outside. The faster you deactivate them, the faster we can help.”

 

Izuku took a deep breath and gave his arm a shake, feeling an ache from where he held onto the pipe.

 

“Understood.”

It wasn’t until he was halfway out of the room when his hand fell to his side, and he realized something.

 

“Oh, come the fuck on. Again?”

 

He looked back with a sigh as he realized he had dropped his handgun and the decompression had dragged it into outer space.

 

“Fucking hell. I keep losing those.”

 

As he turned, he started jogging for the airlock on the far side of the tower. With the hunting pack out of the fight, he figured he had an hour or two before the next group of Aliens came hunting for what happened to them. And if his plan worked, he might even be able to keep that from happening.

 

---

Now

Todoroki Shoto sent his ice out, his mind frozen in a fractal of panic and fear and memory.

 

He could barely make out the blond hair and smirk of Monoma, an almost maniacal expression, only cast into sharper definition by the surging red flames that wreathed the other teen as he charged through the rushing glaciers, the ice turning to steam at the blond’s very touch as he pushed through.

 

He was on the back foot, dancing back and away from flickers of uncontrolled flame that turned concrete pillars into glowing red slag and ice into steam.

 

He should've been able to handle this. Should've been stronger than this fire, but every time it licked too close, every time it tore at his ice and sent steam rushing past him, he felt his chest seize. His pulse was deafening and the blond was saying things, but his voice was drowned out—instead he heard his father's words ringing from each blast of flame. 

 

‘You’ll never accomplish your duty like this.’

 

Ice rose up in a semicircle of spikes to make distance, and Monoma barely halted his charge, flames licking at ice even as it dissolved under the heat. It was only by riding a new layer of ice up and around that he dodged the next wave of heat, as his defense was turned to steam.

 

‘Worthless. Where's your effort? I didn’t make you just to have you fail.’

 

Spikes of ice rushed forward only to turn to steam and melt as Monoma burst with flames, sending himself higher over the ice, the blond’s once bright-blue tracksuit jacket vaporizing as he used the flames like a jet to propel himself forwards. A glacier managed to intercept him, but not for long.

 

‘You don’t need to mingle with these worthless nobodies. You have a higher calling.’

 

Shoto could only barely avoid the next blast of flame, feeling the side of his uniform blacken and fray from the heat even as he dove through the steam. The sensation of steam punched through his panic, and filled him with a memory of sheer terror and pain. A moment when his face was burning .

 

The next voice that played was the one that hurt the most, as he stumbled and rolled to his feet, turning to face Monoma once more.

 

‘I’m so sorry, Shoto! I’m so sorry!’

 

He raised his hand, but the steam was thick, and he couldn’t-

 

Blond hair, a reaching hand, and suddenly he felt fingers grip his wrist.

 

“Let's see how your quirk works!”

 

Shoto’s eyes widened, and panic rushed through him as he called his quirks to the surface.

 

And with a manic grin, Monoma released a twin burst of uncontrolled ice and fire at point-blank range.

 

The explosion of elemental force blasted both of them back and away from each other, cratering the ground with the force.

 

With instinct on his side from years of practice, Shoto threw his hand out and formed a cradle of ice and snow to soften his impact, ignoring the way that his skin felt raw and cracked from the surge of heat.

 

He glanced up to see Monoma standing up from a nearly molten pit of ground, his right arm hanging low, clearly broken, even as a manic laugh spilled from his throat. With a touch of ice, the broken arm was wrapped in a makeshift splint.

 

“I can’t believe you’re scared of such… power. ”

 

Shoto narrowed his vision, feeling the boil of his rage as it rose up his spine. Monoma barely seemed to notice, instead laughing as traces of fire and frost spread across his form. The wavering distortion, the echoes of his past that raged through his mind crystallized as his rage snapped him from his past.

 

“Your father was right. You really are weak .”

 

And there it was.

 

Planting his feet, he rose up, ice lacing his arm as he began to reach deeper.

 

He was going to prove he didn’t need his father's fire.

 

Right here.

 

Right now.

 

Monoma laughed at his approach, and sent a blast of red flame at him, but right now Shoto was feeling distinctly pissed off.

 

A wave of his left arm caught the flames, and in a motion that was almost more instinct than skill, turned the billowing flames inwards.

 

With a flicker, only smoke remained, twisting in and away as Shoto began to pick up speed.

 

A flicker of contempt and surprise across Monoma’s face appeared, and he sent a larger blast.

 

Another clawed sweep ripped its cohesion apart, sent it curling away and around him as he began to jog.

 

Another, and he was sprinting, his right arm held low and to his side even as he felt the burning cold rise up through his bones into his flesh.

 

Monoma looked panicked, and sent a wave of ice, and another blast of fire, trying desperately to stop Shoto’s advance.

 

The ice rushed, then split as Shoto intercepted it with his own rush of ice, spreading out from his foot.

 

Monoma raised his arm once more, a massive surge of flames blasting at Shoto.

 

And Shoto met it with the largest Ice attack he had unleashed yet.

 

A blast of steam and mist rose up, blinding the audience.

 

And when it began to fade, the center of the arena wasn’t a mere glacier.

 

No.

 

It was an ice age.

 

Twisting ice spires rose off from a central mass, the ice nearly crystal clear to show the way that in the center, arms pinned back and face only barely clear of the ice, his jaw locked closed by the ice that wreathed him, was Monoma, staring out with panic and struggling to boil his arm free, only to feel the surge of another power refreezing it instantly.

 

Buried up to his arm in order to keep channeling his quirk into the ice, Todoroki merely stared as it began to creep up, more ice slowly covering the teen’s face from the mouth down, leaving only the blond’s nose and eyes free.

 

“Call it. Or I’ll have to suffocate him until he passes out. Besides. His quirk will wear off soon. And when it does, he’ll be hypothermic.”

 

Midnight shuddered at the ice cold seriousness of the teen.

 

“TODOROKI SHOTO… WINS.”

 

With a crack, the iceberg opened, leaving Monoma hanging from his shoulders in the front of the iceberg before Todoroki walked off. With the frantic fight over, it was clear he wasn’t unscathed. Burns laced the teens’ arms, his ragged sports jacket hanging on by threads and showing a black top underneath. Beyond that, a chunk of his red hair was charred.

 

“HEY, WAIT! LET ME OUT!”

Todoroki ignored Monoma’s cries.

 

As he passed through the tunnel, he looked up to see at his father staring at him from the end of the tunnel, eyes filled with disdain.

 

“Your performance was a-”

 

“Fuck off.” The words were hissed and poisonous and sent Endeavor reeling from the unexpected interruption.

 

By the time the pro hero got his wits together, Shoto had vanished into the door towards medical, the floor behind him frosted with his footsteps.

 

---

Then

The door to the AI Core hissed open, Samuels leading the way as Izuku flanked him, shotgun up and ready.

 

“The access point for APOLLO should be just up ahead, I’ll go in to try and access the core directives. With some luck, I should be able to isolate whatever directive is currently commanding the Synths.”

 

“Got it. I have a copy of a base code to turn their targeting onto the Aliens, but it’s untested.”

 

Samuels nodded and muttered. “Aliens. I still can’t believe what a mess this is.”

 

Izuku ignored the comment, focusing on the surrounding area. He had already gone over the basics. The USCSS Anesidora had found the isolated planet where the Nostromo’s emergency transmitter had been sitting. Their co-captain had been infected and they’d rushed to Sevastopol, the closest hospital ward in this part of space. Everything after that had been a series of bad events getting steadily worse.

 

He hadn’t gone into the more suspicious things he had found, however. Not the instigation of the riots nor the variety of messages that implied that whatever was happening was caused on the orders of Weyland-Yutani.

 

The same company that had sent Samuels and his coworker, Nina Taylor, here.

 

Who just so happened to have the access clearance to the APOLLO AI.

 

Izuku was not willing to let his guard drop. Not now.

 

It was a short distance to the core, but as they rounded the last corner, the two slowed.

 

There were at least half a dozen Synths blocking their path, eyes red.

In sequence, they all said the same thing.

 

“You’re Not Supposed To Be Here.”

 

“Shit.”

---

Now

Izuku ran the cloth in his hand along the dulled sword. While Todoroki and Monoma had clashed, he had watched and assessed the two of them, learning more and more about where Todoroki’s mind lay. 

 

His sword, now cleared of the wooden sheathing and taped-up wrapping, lay across his lap. It was two inches wide, half an inch thick, and nearly a meter long. The edges were rounded, the handle revealed to be almost another ten inches long and wrapped with leather. The most interesting detail, aside from its unusual size, were the two seams that ran along each side of the blade’s center, half an inch from each rounded side, ending at the crossguard of the blade, a thick and blocky bar.

 

With gentle fingers, he ran a fingernail along the side, and felt for the subtle points that would trigger its secrets.

 

Secrets he expected that Momo would almost push him to use.

 

It was a matter of moments to get the various pieces of his gear back on. The compression bandages were rewrapped around his arms and wrists, and his black gloves slid over the red bandages, the comforting weight of another weapon surrounding his hands. Every fight before this had been reactive. His attacks were made to draw out and show off his opponents, before taking them out after he understood their weaknesses. But with Momo, it would be a matter of technical skill and instinct before all else. He already knew her fighting styles, and she had a better than average grasp of his own, particularly with a sword.

 

For a moment, his hands tensed as he remembered the last time he had truly faced someone in a sword fight, instead of merely sparring.

 

Gwyn….

 

The Lord of Cinder. The Wielder of the First Flame. He wasn’t as skilled as Artorias had been. Not as fast as Ornstein, nor as brutal as Smough. But Gwyn had been the culmination , the final barrier standing at the end of Izuku’s journey.

 

It took him only one attempt to defeat him.

 

But it took two hours.

 

Izuku flexed his fingers, remembering how the flames had ached as he fought.

 

He was not scared of fire. 

 

But he was aware of its danger. Of its threat.

 

As Present Mic called for him and Momo, he settled himself, hefting the sword to rest over his shoulder with a smooth motion. He would match her step to step, and let Momo show off. He would push her to show the world just how skilled she was, before he tested just how far she could go against him for real.

 

As he walked towards the stage, he ignored the phantom taste of arterial spray across his lips.

 

He could keep it together.

 

He would.

 

He refused to burn out here.

 

Not until he was done.

 

‘In the end, it’s just another run. The crying can wait till after the action.’

 

---

Then

Izuku sidestepped one Synth, shotgun coming up to press against its skull and finger pulling the trigger even as he twisted.

 

As the Synth’s skull vanished in chunky white paste, he was already drawing a bead on another. With a pull, its face was half torn apart. A second shot and it staggered before falling. At his side, Samuels stepped forwards and gripped one of their heads, slamming it against the wall with a sickening thunk.

 

The last round in his shotgun found its head in the mouth of another Synth. And as it fell back, head hanging by a thread, Izuku hefted a stun baton in one hand, the other pulling one of the thin shivs from his belt.

 

The static of the baton made the Synths glitch and stagger, and he was well aware of how to tear them apart by now. He lunged into a flurry of motion, jabbing the closest Synth in the gut before tearing forwards.

 

As a Synth fell with a shiv through its eye, another was slammed against the far wall, Samuels crushing it with strong motions and cracking its head against the wall.

 

Izuku stepped back as one of the last two Synths charged him, and ducked, hand reaching back to drag another spike from his belt.

 

The shiv took out its knee, sending it crashing to the ground as Samuels charged the last one still standing.

 

With narrowed eyes, Izuku reloaded his shotgun, and as Samuels crushed his third Synth, Izuku blew the head off the one still crawling after him.

 

Samuels rose up, shaking off his hands.

 

And Izuku leveled the shotgun his way.

 

“Izuku?” Samuels slowly raised his arms, palms facing the green-haired teen.

 

Izuku took a step back, finger resting just along the trigger. “You’re not a human.”

 

Samuels hesitated.

“No. I’m not. I’m an advanced Synth, working for Weyland-Yutani’s asset recovery corps.”

 

“And what asset are you here to recover ?”

 

Samuels blinked. “The Nostromo's Flight Recorder and, failing that, I'm to investigate and locate the navigation data of the USCSS Anesidora , uncover the last known location of the Nostromo, and return to my division.”

 

“So why help me?”

“Because I need to access the core regardless. All APOLLO systems have the ability to backread corrupted data installed on the flight recorders. Plugging one in automatically makes a flash copy of the encrypted system, before any attempts at hacking or decrypting are attempted.”

 

Izuku gave a long slow breath, before slowly lowering the shotgun to a resting position. “Fine. I need you as it is. Keep your distance until we’re done and I won’t shoot you.”

 

“Acceptable.”

 

As Samuels moved onwards into the AI core, Izuku flexed his grip gently, before his headset beeped.

 

“Midoriya, what the fuck is going on?”

 

“Marshal?”

 

“I’ve got Synths banging on my doors and the system is locking me out of the station network!”

 

Izuku froze and looked at Samuels.

 

“We’re at the AI core, it’s probably trying to do as much damage as it can. We’ll do what we can, just hold on!”

 

With only a glance at Samuels, the two of them took off down the hall towards the AI core.

 

They were on the clock, and they didn’t know how long they had.

 

---

Now

Momo flexed her hand, quirk ready and muscles tense as she took in Izuku across from her. There were clear signs of his previous fights, the faint scrapes from rubble and shrapnel, as well as the bandages around his collar, from his dislocated arm. 

 

It was all but superficial, and looking at him was more than enough to realise just how little he had been injured until now.

 

Meanwhile, she still felt the bruises from Kirishima’s attacks, and even beyond that of the impacts of fighting Tokoyami earlier. While she could have taken advantage of Recovery Girl’s healing, it would have drained her stamina and weakened her fat reserves in the process. Instead, she was making do with some painkillers and a bruise cream that would help numb the ache of her muscles.

 

As Midnight stepped back, Present Mic announced the fight, two screens lighting up with silhouettes of each of the fighters.

 

“FOR OUR FIRST SEMIFINAL MATCH! WE HAVE THE LEAN, GREEN FIGHTING MACHINE! THE DARK HORSE OF CLASS 1A, MIDORIYA IZUKU! AFTER A CALM START IN THE RACE, HE TOOK THE THRONE AND DECLARED HIMSELF KING OF THE CASTLE, AND NOW HE’S CUT DOWN ALL OPPOSITION!”

 

A montage of the previous fights, clearly edited to show the greatest moves and hits, played before it resolved into a determined looking profile shot of Izuku, his hair tied off behind him and sword across his shoulder.

 

“AND HIS OPPONENT! THE CALM, THE COOL, THE ELECTED LEADER OF 1A! THE LADY WITH AN ARSENAL IN HER SKIN AND THE SKILL TO USE IT! YAOYOROZU MOMO! SHE’S KEPT A STEADY HEAD AND HAS PULLED OUT A CONSISTENT PERFORMANCE ALL DAY, KEEPING AT THE FRONT OF THE PACK WITH THE BEST OF THE BEST! 

 

Another montage for her, showing off her weapons skills during the tournament fights and the scene of her firing the cannon to destroy the Zero-Pointer, before zooming out to show the reverse profile. Both images were facing each other over top of the announcer booth.

 

“BUT WILL COOL HEADS PREVAIL AGAINST UNRELENTING FORCE? OR WILL THE KING TOPPLE THE PRESIDENT? MIDNIGHT, COUNT US OFF!”

 

As Midnight stepped forwards, Momo tensed, sliding her feet into position and centering her balance. Even if Izuku threw his blade like he had before, she was ready.

 

“Ready!”

She gave a sharp nod, eyes focused.

 

“ BEGIN!”

 

---

Then

Izuku glanced around, taking in the two connected rooms. On one side, behind a glass viewing screen, was the access point for the AI core and a long bed-like shape that sent shivers of unease down his spine.

 

Looks like the loading room and the podium, combined with an MRI.

 

The other room, where he and Samuels had entered, was instead a large area filled with wire connections and consoles, likely access to the rest of the ship functions that were plugged back into the AI’s system.

 

“I’ll go in and attempt to access APOLLO's system. Stay here and monitor the consoles, I may need some assistance.”

 

As Samuels moved to join the AI, Izuku pulled the memory card from his pocket. “Sam, take this. It’s a targeting program that should set the Synths on the Aliens.”

 

“Understood.”

 

As the advanced Synth walked through the doors, Izuku ran through his equipment, counting out bombs and ammo as he looked around, before setting up at the external console. 

 

Samuels lay on the gurney in the APOLLO core, and Izuku watched as it slowly slid into the massive ring, blue lights tracing over his form. “APOLLO: I’m requesting access to Hazard Containment Protocols.”

 

For a moment, nothing. Izuku could barely make out the faint sounds of beeping as screens around Samuels flashed on and off, too far away to make out.

 

“Show active Protocols.”

With a hum, Izuku was suddenly aware of energy sparking from several of the data connections.

Connections leading to the interface.

 

“DAMN! APOLLO is trying to reject me. We might be in trouble.

“Shit, what do you need?”

 

 With a flash of sparks, one of the connections overloaded.

 

“You need to manually disconnect the various systems!”

“Got it-” Even as Izuku looked for the first of the breaker’s switches-

“WAIT! You have to disable the terminals in order or the cascade failure will be fatal to me!”

With a growl, Izuku glanced over the five overflow terminals. “Which one?”

 

“I’m in the schematics right now.” As Samuels talked, Izuku looked over the breakers and found the connection. He would need to use the maintenance jack to manually disconnect each system. “Red cable first!”

 

A moment of looking and he found it, even as the entire room began to fill with smoke, plastic and rubber components sparking with overloaded power. As he sprinted over, he unhooked the jack and slammed it down to lock on the bolt, before tensing and pulling. With a shower of sparks, the connection broke free, and the warning light for the first breaker shut off.

 

“Red is down!”

 

“Next, look for a blue cable. Can you see it?”

 

“I see it.” He sprinted over and with another wrench of the jack, it gave off a surge of sparks and smoke, disconnected from the grid. With a blare of klaxons, the lights went red, washing out all the color. “SHIT! Sam, the emergency lights just came on, and I can’t see the rest of the colors through the smoke!”

“I- I can guide you. I remember what the room looked like!”

 

Izuku took a breath and braced. “Got it! Call them out.”

 

“There should be an overturned gurney, the next one is behind it.”

 

Spinning, Izuku blinked smoke out of his eyes before sighting the gurney and rushing over, before using the jack once more.  “Got it, next?”

“Hold on, the system’s fighting me…. Back wall! Near the viewport to the rest of the computer systems.”

Izuku rushed over, and with a flare of sparks, he broke the connection. “The last one, right?”

 

“YES, last one!”

 

As Izuku got closer, another blast of electricity arced through the air, and the banks of the computers around Samuels began to flicker with static, the bright orange of flames blooming between computers.

 

“HURRY!”

 

Izuku slid the jack to the bolt and gripped it, but as he began to yank on it, his body suddenly felt as if it was on fire. Sparks from the connection conducted electricity through his arms, as he gave a roar and yanked.

 

A screech of tortured metal rang out before the breaker opened, leaving Izuku to hunch over with the jack, hands feeling raw and arms shaking with the remnants of coursing electricity.

 

With the last surge of static, he saw Samuels slide out and stagger from where he was laying on the gurney, the lights flickering before the red faded away and the regular lights returned, those that hadn’t been blown out.

Without waiting, Izuku smashed through the glass and hopped into the room.

 

“Shit, Samuels.”

The Synth looked torn up; sections of skin had been damaged or burned away, revealing white ceramic.

 

“Midoriya… I’ve unlocked access to the deeper parts of the AI core. If you can reach the central processor… it will at least let you access it. I installed your program, but it won’t be initialized unless you can reach the core.”

 

“Shit. And you?”

 

“Heh…. Too much damage. My systems are already failing.”

 

Izuku couldn’t really say much to that.

 

“Midoriya… If you can… make sure that the Aliens don’t escape. Please… Find out what happened to the Flight recorder. Its data is currently in the system. Solve the mystery….”

 

With a slow thump, the Synth went still.

 

For the first time in several runs, his watch beeped.

 

Objectives Updated:
Access APOLLO.
Identify the source of Infestation.
End the Xenomorph Infestation.

 

With a slow breath, Izuku stood up. 

 

A new door was unlocked, leading back into the station towards the lower level of the tower, where the AI core was waiting.

 

He had a job to finish.

 

He didn’t want to do this again.

 

With a rack of his shotgun, Izuku got back to work.

 

---

Now

Momo charged forwards, mind racing as she took in the slow approach of Izuku, sword held across his back as he seemed to glide over the concrete in her direction—measured, angular steps barely touching as he closed the distance.

 

With a flare of light, her weapons came into reality from design.

 

A French fencing sabre appeared in one hand, the long, curved weapon made of solid steel and with nearly perfect balance, with a simple basket hilt. In her other hand, an angular kiteshield was formed, strapped around her arm and with the longer base leading past her elbow. The feeling of a mouthguard settling in her mouth as she closed the distance marked the last piece before she reached him.

 

And as she entered his range, she was met with devastating swings of his blade. The weight and thickness of it meant that it didn’t cut through the air so much as crash, dragging air in its wake. She darted in and out, circling and deflecting some of his swings with the tip of her saber even as he set the pace.

 

Despite the weight, he swung and flowed around the weight of the blade with grace, always leaving her just in reach of his devastating strikes, leaving little chance to get close enough to strike out herself. She could see the absolute mastery of his bladework — precise control of the sword, with one hand on the back of the blade itself, and the other using the hilt. With both hands moving in sequence, it choked back reach for quick precision and still gave him plenty of ability to deliver devastating blows.

 

She ducked under one strike, and the blade was carried by its weight until it cleaved through one of the pillars, shattering it and leaving what looked like an opening.

 

She slashed in, aiming for his vulnerable side when his right hand snapped back, leaving his sword in a one-handed grip, before smashing down on the blade mid-strike with the sound of clashing steel.

 

She could see it. Braced along the back of his knuckles, revealed by the edge of her sword scraping through the fabric of his gloves, was the gleam of steel.

 

She barely had a chance to slide back and out of range before the sword in Izuku’s hand could crash back through her guard.

 

As she retreated, her nearly meter-long sword was held level, the curve swaying and aimed at Izuku as he adjusted his own grip, walking from the ruined pillar.

 

“I have to say, I expected a polearm instead of a sabre.” The low tone of his voice cut through the hush of the stage.

 

“I decided speed would be the better counter to your weapon’s weight.”

 

“Hmm.” Izuku was expressionless, only showing a polite face of interest, despite his aggressive body language.

 

She kept pace, the two falling into step in a wide circle. A single step would bring her in range for striking, but two would bring Izuku past her preferred range and into the midst of his.

 

She darted out, attempting a feint, only for Izuku to step into it, his hand coming up to catch the slash in his gloved grip as he twisted and swung his sword up, nearly catching her own arm as she stepped back.

 

The ring of steel, however, proved he had hit what he was aiming for.

 

The ringing clash of steel sent her sabre’s blade shattering into a myriad of shards, and Momo danced backward.

 

Izuku held the jagged point of the blade in his grip, inspecting it as he let her gain distance.

 

“I have to say. It’s not a bad weapon, but it’s fragile.”

 

He tossed the shard away and stepped after her, Momo’s mind racing even as the gleam of her hand signaled a new weapon, a naginata. The polearm was nearly third again her height, and as she took a grip, she leveled it in towards Izuku.

“Ah, there’s the polearm.”

 

He began to step forwards to meet her, and his hands both came to rest on the hilt of his sword before he moved.

 

The hunk of metal Izuku was using as a blade ripped through the air, and she stepped back, twisting the naginata to knock it up, and grunting when her weapon creaked from the impact.

 

As the two of them circled back around, Momo began to see Izuku use more and more tricks. Things she hadn’t been able to catch from a distance.

 

His weapon had enough mass that when he threw it out and yanked it back, he could shift after it, moving nearly as much as his weapon did to reorient. Beyond that, he used its mass almost like a shield, taking several heavy strikes with barely a flinch as the sword caught them.

 

As she twisted in for another strike, she decided to expand her arsenal.

 

A flash grenade dropped from her stomach, and she tossed it his way, already forming glasses and earplugs even as it popped up from a kick-

 

She barely saw the sword shift before Izuku was smashing the flashbang out of the air, catching it mid explosion and sending its bright white wreckage to the side, as Izuku stepped behind it with eyes closed.

 

She reached out, slashing with the nagi-

 

The lash of his hand smacked it up, and the point of the sword jabbed under her guard.

 

“Nice try, but I don’t need my eyes, Momo.”

As she flexed her hand, stepping back as she raised her naginata again, Izuku glanced down at his sword curiously. She could see the clear scorch mark where the flashbang had been caught.

 

She took a breath and went back on the offensive.

 

The next ten minutes would later be remembered only as a blur.

 

Another flashbang, this time smashed away before it could explode.

 

She tried a taser, only for Izuku to block the prongs with his gloves, leaving scorch marks on the cloth where the static hadn’t penetrated.

 

The feeling of weightlessness as she took a swing that launched her into the air.

 

Her naginata, shattered between the sword and a pillar when she misstepped.

 

A replacement spear, simpler to make than the naginata, that nearly shattered on a block, discarded as it bent nearly in half.

 

A smoke grenade that was shattered and sent to the side.

 

The sight of the blade coming out of the dust, and her lack of a weapon, raising her arms and focusing her quirk, the blade coming to a lock against her arms as they screamed in pain, two long pieces of titanium bar rising from her skin to take the strike, that then fell to the ground when she disengaged, bent out of shape.

 

And through it all-

Izuku’s measured gaze.

Assessing. Planning. Hunting.

 

Every move she made was taken into account. Every weapon broke down and discarded. Every trick she pulled was seen through.

 

Her shield bent around the sword, and she lashed out with a staff, knocking him back but ripping the shield with his weapon.

 

A chain was tangled around his arm, and he swapped hands. Wielding the sword left-handed while he untangled himself before tossing the chain out of bounds.

 

A long sword was smashed into a pillar during a parry and then snapped in half by a backswing.

 

Another spear snapped and the lucerne she’d made to replace it was too slow and was discarded.

 

And among all of that, flashbangs, smoke grenades, sonic grenades, attempts at teargas- all of them were removed from the fight with precise swings to clear the area.

 

As the match wound down, she staggered, feeling the ache of overusing her quirk.

 

And that was the end.

 

The last moves of the fight were almost… kind.

 

The blade knocking away her latest shield.

 

A palm, all fingers curled in slightly, as it thudded home into her gut.

 

And then the feeling of weightlessness, and then grass.

 

As she lay panting, the cool green of the field behind her, her head ringing with exhaustion.

 

She could still hear the announcement.

 

“AFTER A STUNNING DISPLAY OF SKILL, MIDORIYA IZUKU IS OUR FIRST FINALIST! PLEASE GIVE IT UP FOR HIM, AND YAOYOROZU MOMO FOR AN EXCELLENT MATCH!”

 

As the adrenaline started to drain away, she could feel the aches and bruises that littered her body start to make themselves known.

 

Above her, a shadow took shape, leaning over her as she caught her breath. “Nice match, Momo.”

 

She barely gave a smile to Izuku before she felt the urge to sleep.

 

She happily gave in. She had given a hell of a match.

 

---

Then

With a thud, the final Synth fell to the ground, three spikes embedded into its head.

 

From beside it, where it had pinned him to the ground, Izuku gave a cough, rolling to his side as he wiped the white fluid of the Synth from his face, blinking as he tried to remember how to breathe.

 

‘Fucking Synths… Always go… for the throat.’

 

As he pushed himself up, Izuku spat out a mouthful of slime and blood, feeling where one of his teeth had been knocked out, the gap almost surprising and new, if not for the pain .

 

The travel down to the AI core had been… exhausting.

 

Navigating plasma vents, using a gas mask to get through areas filled with poisonous coolant, and dodging dozens of Synths.

 

Getting his feet under him, Izuku looked around.

 

Four Synths lay around him in the last room before he could return to the AI core after disabling its security systems. The previous hour had been a series of hectic hacking, navigating the maze of rooms that surrounded and monitored the AI core, and destroying the Synths that were hunting him down.

 

With a final cough of white and red on the ground, Izuku reached out and grabbed several spikes from where they had spilled over the floor, and slid them back into his belt.

 

His shotgun lay empty in the far corner, and his electric baton was still sticking out of one of the other Synths, half embedded in the head.

 

With a long sigh, he began to regather his supplies.

 

‘Down to only three more shotgun shells... Damn.’

 

Beyond that, he had used almost all his grenades. Most of the noisemakers had been spent  drawing Synths away, while flashbangs and smokes had been used to disorient and pick off various groups.

 

He was down to a single flashbang, and one pipebomb.

 

As he checked the gauge on his flamethrower, he sighed.

Empty. He’d figured as much, considering he had been using it to melt the Hazard Suits off of the more specialized Working Joes. Those were insulated and reinforced, enough that the stun baton and EMP grenades he had weren’t enough to disable them. 

 

As he dug through his bag, he found a new canister and screwed it into place, noting that he had one more spare which, from the indicator, was only half full. As he slid the last of his shells into the gun, he hefted it back over his shoulder, hissing slightly at the ache in his back. One of the Synths had gotten lucky and knocked him into a doorway earlier, and it hadn’t been fun. He took stock of the variety of gashes and claw marks that littered his body just from this run, the way his ankle was still weak from the slash of the Alien at the lab, the pain that came from bandaged wounds and laceration, only the worst of which he had sealed with medical kits and painkillers.

 

As he finished collecting his gear, he headed for the doorway into the core.

 

Metal grates circled a massive sphere with a square pattern that looked almost like an oversized golf ball, with three massive connection ports to the rest of the station.

 

As he got close, he pulled out his security scanner, with the recent addition of a level 3 data core. The now familiar adjustments only took a moment, before he isolated the correct code and broke the encryption.

 

With a beep, the dim lights of the room brightened, and with a slow, shifting noise and the creak of the core’s arms, the entire AI core rose into a new position, revealing a door.

 

Izuku reached out and opened it, the hiss of the core pressurizing and the drifts of coolant rushing out, revealing the clinical white interior.

 

Indicator lights and small screens hung around a central console, a chair with a single screen placed on it, and a keyboard.

 

Izuku took a deep breath, and walked in.

 

Taking a seat, the door sealed behind him, and the chair rotated.

 

“Right, lets see…”

 

He knew enough of the protocol from the instruction manuals, but he still pulled out his notebook, where he had a list of properly compiled questions and codes to engage.

 

First off… start simple.

Disengage Android Operations.

He hit enter, and waited with baited breath-

Negative

WY Special Order 939 in progress

 

“Well, shit. Why is nothing ever easy?”

 

He paused… W.Y….

 

Weyland-Yutani?

Weyland-Yutani own this facility

Purchased orders received 11.21.2137

 

He paused. “That… that was what, less than a week ago?” He checked his notes. “No… That was… three days before I woke up? What the fuck?”

 

He went back to the console, and started typing.

 

What is Special Order 939?

Priority one 

 

Protect specimen.
Maintain station quarantine.
Disallow communications. 

 

All other considerations secondary.

 

Izuku froze, as bits and pieces of information fell into place.

 

This entire thing wasn’t some accident he was tossed into. The lore painted this as intentional.

 

People here caused this . Or even if they didn’t start it, they only made it worse.

 

The riots that were escalated by a random, or planted, gunman.

The Alien not being found or isolated. Quarantine being broken.

The Working Joes going rogue, and locking down sections of the ship.

 

Disable Special order 939

Negative

 

Yeah, he didn’t expect it to work, but shit. He tried something a bit less straightforward.

 

Confirm installation of command files WJ_Vindictive

 

Scanning. File found.

Warning, unauthorized distributor.

 

Install

 

Installing…

 

As the loading bar began to fill, Izuku started flipping through his notes.

 

Warning: WJ_Vindictive found to be in violation of special orders

 

Terminating file WJ_Vindictive in 30 seconds

Izuku snarled at that, and began typing.

If the system wanted to delete this, it could kiss his ass.

 

He wasn’t great at coding, but he knew exactly what he needed. He didn’t want Samuels' sacrifice to be for nothing. Not now.

 

He was tired of losing.

 

Now

Izuku walked through the halls towards Recovery Girl’s medical wing with a slow and steady step. He was keenly feeling the ache of using the heavy blade, and his knuckles were bruised and swelling up under the reinforcements of his gloves. However, he didn’t feel the sharp pain of anything being broken, and he was positive all his fingers were still located in the right place.

 

Across his chest and shoulders, the ache of wielding such a heavy weapon was much more prominent. The strain of maneuvering it was hell on the core muscles, and he was exceedingly grateful that he would be able to reveal its final trick soon. As he turned the last corner, he glanced down, taking in the long black hair that hung over his shoulder. Momo was clearly out of it, and he winced at just how many weapons he had made her go through. He had counted at least 14 weapons, all made of some variant of a steel alloy. And that wasn’t taking into account the addition of at least 20 various grenades. One of them had almost made him black out, the sonic waves disorienting him much like Jirou’s quirk could.

 

The sword, now hanging from the ragged remains of his overshirt, was scored and pitted, the once smooth edges now dented and warped from strike after strike. The cloth of his gloves was ragged as well, uncovering the metal platings that had acted almost like brass knuckles, or the Japanese Tekko. 

 

As he walked, he adjusted his grip, one arm under Momo’s back, and the other under her knees. She had left the stage on a stretcher, but he hadn’t wasted much time in snagging her from it. He was heading to medical anyway, and the droids were likely to be much more needed after the next fight.

 

He’d bet it was an amusing sight; Momo was nearly a half a head taller than him on a good day, and even now, braced as she was, her feet almost scraped the ground as he walked.

 

When he reached the door to medical, a carefully aimed kick caught the door handle, and he stepped in.

 

Recovery Girl was waiting, and was clearly exasperated.

 

“Get her to a bed. The foolish girl exhausted herself. And YOU! Sit down and take the effort off your shoulder for god's sake. And eat something. I know enough about your biology to know that you’re probably starting to push your tolerance, and I don’t need another patient passing out from low blood sugar like she probably did.”

Izuku let the heroine rant, instead of focusing on setting Momo onto a cot, before stepping back to focus on his own wounds.

 

As he wrapped and rewrapped his bruises, he listened to the combination of sounds from Recovery Girl helping Momo, and the distant announcements of the next match.

 

By the time he was stripping his shirt off to reach the bruises on his chest, the arena was once more repaired, and the next match was about to begin.

 

Izuku stared at the screen, taking in the images of Kacchan and Todoroki.

 

‘This decides my next fight… figures it comes down to this. My childhood friend, and the baggage between us… or the traumatized victim who lashes out in rage…’

 

He began to rub bruise cream into his wounds and watched carefully.

‘This… is going to be intense.’

Chapter 40: Red Barrels

Summary:

Explosions incoming

ALSO: there's a link in this chapter. it's Loud. Be warned.

Then

“Marshal? Come in, Marshal?”

Izuku tapped the headset, and listened to the silence.

Deep in the AI core, his signal had been cut off. Too much interference from the core’s shielding.

Now, as he stood in the elevator, descending from the AI core into the depths of engineering, he could only hear static.

Nothing.

He held back a tight pressure in his chest, pushing thoughts of being too late from his mind.

He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to save everyone. He knew that.

But it still hurt.

He tapped the comm again and shifted channels. “Midoriya to Torrens?” “This is Torrens. Thank god, we’ve been worried. Ever since you headed into the AI core we’ve been trying to reach you.” The captain's voice was tense, but calm - impressively so considering the situation.

“Sorry, the shielding screwed up reception.”

“How’s Samuels doing?!” This… wasn’t the captain. A younger voice, but almost more refined and cultured than the captain’s. Nina Taylor, the other executive from Weyland-Yutani.

“Samuels… Didn’t make it.”

“...Oh.” That whisper was almost worse than her crying. “I… I see.”

Izuku leaned back against the side of the elevator and closed his eyes. They deserved to know, right? Even if this was all fake… he wouldn’t treat it that way. He couldn’t. He wanted to be a hero… and sometimes that meant delivering the bad news. If he labeled everything that happened in a simulation as ‘fake’… No. That was a bad path.

He knew that much.

“The AI interface… overloaded. Damaged his systems too much. He opened the way to the AI core itself… but that was the last thing he could do,” Izuku coughed, clearing the sound of his throat choking up. “I tried to save him. Just wasn’t fast enough.”

“I… I understand. Thank you.” There was a long moment and he could almost imagine he heard someone stiffening their spine. “And… And the mission?”

“The AI sent the data to Weyland-Yutani. Turns out they sent a buy order to the station not long after you and Samuels headed out this way. Apparently, they didn’t want to wait. The only other thing out here is the flight records of the ship that found them, the Anesidora.”

Verlaine, the captain, spoke up. “I can see a ship's identification code in orbit around the gas giant, but it looks like it’s on autopilot. Without the codes to bring it out of orbit and into shuttle range, I doubt I'll be able to get you there. Ship-to-ship docking is complex enough that an AI can’t handle it. You might be able to park a shuttle on it, but not a ship the size of the Torrens.”

Izuku hesitated, before speaking up. “I know that the captain of the Anesidora was on station. I doubt he’s still alive, but-”

“But if you can find him you might be able to get the codes. I understand.” Nina Taylor’s voice was quiet, intense.

“I’ll try my best. Captain, how much longer can you maintain orbit with the station?”

“20 hours at best. After that, my maneuvering engines will be dangerously low, and I’ll need to either refuel or start back towards the inner sectors.”

“Got it. I’ll try and be off as soon as I can… Just be safe, yeah?”

“Understood. Torrens out.”

As the comm went silent, Izuku pressed the button to open the door, the elevator long since having come to a stop. With a whir, the door opened, and Izuku stepped out into the depths of engineering.

There had been one thing that the AI Core had confirmed for him, before he left.

Unidentified Biological Material in Reactor Core.

Izuku had done his research, though.

The Sevastopol’s reactor had multiple super-capacitors that could hold and build charges, often used to power the station during high-traffic hours when normal reactor activity wouldn’t be enough. Each of the three main super-capacitors also acted as overflow and surge protection for the rest of the station, keeping a random surge from blowing circuitry in the more important systems across engineering.

But there was a safety feature. If the capacitors were disconnected and received another surge before they could be reset, then the electricity was channeled back around the core, purging the system’s power into the plasma conduits around the core.

If he was correct, the charge would be external to the core itself, a lightning storm that would kill anything it came in contact with.

Which meant that anything that was built around the reactor itself would be at high risk.

Slinging his shotgun back over his shoulder, Izuku pulled up a ragged bandana and wrapped it around his face, while also checking all his gear was secured.

The name of the game here was simple.

Get to the core, trigger a purge, and get out. Preferably without getting the attention of any of the Aliens.

As he flexed his hands, Izuku began to move deeper.

---

Now

Miruko hopped slightly on the pads of her feet as she paced back and forth. The longer the matches had gone on, the more she began to feel like her initial suspicion was right. There was a surprising amount of talent in the match, with some of them being far more intense then she expected.

But beyond that, there was a monster in this tournament. Confident, focused, and skilled enough to back it up.

She watched his matches with an eagerness that she rarely felt for any of her coworkers aside from the other top ten. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but she could see it.

He was like her.

A team would hold him back, or be better off doing other tasks. He would be a monster to fight, the spearpoint of any team that he led, pushing through enemies with the kind of hyper-focused intensity that most of the pros who made it out in the world lacked.

She wanted to fight him. To train him. To test him.

She wanted to see just how controlled that mask he wore was. How hard would it be to push him into a rage? To see him lose that control?

Could he handle coming back from a frenzy? Could he reign in a blood rage? She knew that people had called her violent—even bloodthirsty—but she knew that control was what kept her at the top, and if the kid with a sword and a chip on his shoulder heavier than the stadium he was in wanted to graduate without being on a path directly to Tartarus, he needed that control as well.

She made a note on her phone, watching as the arena began to reset once more.

‘Contact Nedzu @ internship requirements.’

As she closed her app, she glanced back up to watch the reply, eyes focusing once more on the calm facade that Midoriya wore as he picked the girl apart. On the other screen, she saw the two teens in the other semi-final step up to the stage.

“This is going to be fun.”

---

Then

Izuku moved slowly.

He hadn’t known what he expected, but this… wasn’t it.

Thick tendrils of some sort were growing across the walls, wrapping around panels and breaker switches like some sort of hyper-active mold from hell as it formed an organic lattice.

Large eggs, the tops slit open and unfolded, revealed empty caverns littered under desiccated corpses, and the distant hissing and chatter of Aliens was barely audible under the crackles of the reactor as it worked.

Thankfully, the sound of the reactor also played to his advantage, covering up the rustle of his feet and gear.

Izuku crept around another corner.

Carefully, he set a flashbang, using a binding agent to connect it to the wall before pulling a wire from his pocket and slowly leading it across the center of the hallway. He was out of the proximity sensors, having used them on the few molotovs he had made and set up further in. It had taken almost an hour to gather the supplies for this plan, and he was moving slowly and absolutely quietly. He didn’t think he could do this twice.

‘That’s the last flashbang… and now to get to work.’

Izuku crept back down another passage, quiet as he could as he fiddled with the radio at his waist. It had taken a while to program, but he had found he could connect his ‘Music’ function to his devices by tuning into a specific radio frequency.

A few minutes of hacking had also connected that radio frequency to the reactor cores emergency alert system.

It had taken a bit of searching through the music selection he had access too, but he had found something loud and obnoxious enough to work.

“Since they keep finding me by sound… let’s stop that.”

He took a deep breath as he glanced around and braced himself.

And then he tapped play.

With a scream of distorted guitar, the speakers nearly blew out as the opening chords of the song played out and the screams of the surprised Aliens echoed, barely audible under the screaming English lyrics.

And that was before, in the distance, he saw the flash of light as one of the flashbang traps he had set was triggered.

Grinning at the chaos, Izuku reached out and yanked on the first of the breakers before pulling the emergency discharge on the first of the capacitors. With a flash, sparks raced across the machine before sending arcing currents dancing up across the flesh of the hive around it, drawing death rattles from the few eggs not yet opened as they all but exploded from the current.

‘Let’s cause some chaos.’

---

Now

Katsuki hooked his arm across his chest and stretched, staring at Todoroki across from him as Present Mic started his spiel.

“The last of our four semi-finalists are about to show their stuff! Whoever wins this match moves on to the finals of the First Year Tournament, and will be facing down with Midoriya Izuku! On one side, he’s got explosive potential and the skill to back it up! Blonde and blasty, it’s BAKUGOU KATSUKI!”

‘Shitty tagline. That the best he could come up with?’

“And against him! The Ice Prince of Class 1-A, the teen with the cold shoulder, TODOROKI SHOTO!”

‘Well… at least his shitty taglines are consistently bad.’

Giving one final shake of his arms to loosen up the blood flow to his wrists, Bakugou crouched in a starting stance, staring down the narrowed heterochromatic gaze of Todoroki with an intensity that slowly drowned out the rest of the world. He watched as Todoroki gradually gathered mist, frost tracing his right hand even as a nearly-imperceptible heat was wreathing his left side.

There would be no talking. Not yet.

He only spared enough focus to keep track of Midnight.

As the moment stretched on, his pulse came faster, the adrenaline surge that he loved, that instinct to fight that he’d followed for almost a decade. It was tempered now— less brash and uncontrolled. His heart was racing but his breaths were deep and slow, controlled and powerful. Each inhale brought more oxygen into his blood, more power into his core.

“BEGI-”

He didn’t wait for the word to finish. By the time the first syllable was out of her lips, he was moving.

A series of rapid blasts turned his starting point into ground zero of a rocket launch.

A shallow arc of pure speed and focus as he fired himself out of the starting position at Todoroki, his arms swinging around as he rushed in, the shape of his hands in the air giving the slightest adjustments to his aim as Todoroki swept his arm up, the gleam of frost growing as he unleashed a glacier—

And the series of blasts that sent Katsuki’s arc spiraling. He didn’t touch the glacier, but the chill rushed past his hair as he twisted.

And then he was at Todoroki.

Widened charcoal and teal eyes met narrowed red before Todoroki twisted, showing his hand was still embedded in the structure of his glacier. With a growl, Katsuki had to twist, avoiding a swarm of spires that grew out of the glacier, blocking off Todoroki from his attack.

A parting blast cleared away the upper half of the glacier, however, and Katsuki flipped to land on one of the concrete pillars, taking in the new trick that Todoroki was showing off with sharp eyes as he broke down what was going on.

‘He’s not reshaping the ice, he's growing new layers and structures onto it. He can’t grow ice off of nothing, he needs a base. But by leaving his hand inside the glacier he can use the entire thing as a conduit for his quirk. Damn. I need to break the glacier down before it can be used, or separate him from it somehow.’

Even as the thoughts raced through his head, more ice rushed to catch him.

A leap sent him up, twisting before an explosion threw him higher.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each explosion accelerated his ascent, heating his skin as he took a deep breath and rose above the arena.

At the peak of his ascent, he twisted, arching his spine as he did a backflip, carefully reaching for the power of his quirk.

‘Every explosion does three major things to cause damage.’

As gravity pulled at him, he drew both hands back, as if winding up for a pitch.

‘The reaction triggers an exothermic blast, releasing heat, and if you’re too close, that heat transfers fast enough to burn and ignite things.’

In his hands, sweat began to accumulate, fingers clenched tight around a rapid series of tiny blasts, close in size to a firecracker. After a half-second it ended, leaving his hands smoking, but still locked together.

A space overheated and low on oxygen.

And inside, his hands began to sweat faster.

‘That heat expands rapidly, superheating particles faster than they can move, forming a shockwave. The difference between a high explosive and a low explosive is based on whether that shockwave is supersonic or subsonic.’

As gravity dragged him back down, he kept his hands clasped, not using his quirk to direct his fall even as Todoroki glanced up, eyes tracking his descent.

Instead of attacking, Todoroki began to encase himself in a cocoon of ice.

Katsuki could only focus and tense.

After this, he would be pressed to release another major explosion for a minute.

‘The third point of damage is a mix. The heated air from the explosion rushes outwards, scorching the area around it in what’s known as blast wind, and it can cause just as much damage as the shockwave.’

A half-second before impact, Katsuki gave a show and threw his hands wide open, a mist rushing from his fingers and palms, trailing behind him as he kicked off the ice of the tower, leaving it floating behind him, drifting and spreading, mixing with the cool air around him, and falling onto the icy tower.

And then from his hands, the sparks fired, sending him clear with a blast, even as the heat and combustion rushed outwards.

The trigger for the rest.

“FIRESTORM BLAST!”

With a flare of heat, flames so hot that they looked white in the center bloomed across the ice.

With a flash of two smaller explosions, Katsuki managed to reorient himself and slow his fall. He dropped to land in a crouch, breathing heavily as he took in the way the upper half of the fortress was steaming, melted and cracked apart under the force of the blast.

As he shook out his hands, he winced at the fact that his palms were covered in red splotches and, in a few places, his fingers were even blistering.

‘Damn. I’m not ready to use that more than once. But it’s close. Come on, bastard. Show me what you’ve got.’

With a sudden crack, sections of the fort cracked open and crumbled, releasing a thick cloud of steam.

With a deep, ragged breath, Todoroki leaned out, placing his hands on the edge of his fortress and staring out with a manic glint in his eye. His voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.

“You bastard… Used all the oxygen.” Todoroki staggered before gaining his center of balance.

Now free of the steam, it was clear that he had almost been baked alive inside the fortress. His clothes dripped with moisture, steam billowing from his left side and ice wreathing his right fingers.

“What? Did you think that I was going to take it slow? Just ‘cause you refuse to give it your all, doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you!”

“I told you why.” With a snarl, the air around him began to cool rapidly, the mist turning to sparkling flakes in the air before drifting to the ground as twisted points of ice rose up his right side. “I refuse to use that man's quirk—”

“Oh, save me the fucking whining.”

Pity and disgust ran across his face as Katsuki drew his arms up, taking a loose boxing stance and stepping closer. He gave a shake of his arms to loosen his muscles back up.

“I’m not fighting your shitbag of a father. I’m going to beat the shit out of you. Endeavor can take a number and I'll deal with his sorry ass later.”

And before Todoroki could get another word in, Katsuki went for the throat.

---

Then

‘Last one.’

With a yank, the final capacitor was disconnected, sending more sparks arcing through the hive even as the screeching of eggs and the sound of static was drowned out by the screaming of the music still playing on repeat.

Izuku had just turned and started heading down the last hallway for the ladder back up to the core proper when he saw it.

Just a flicker of motion, the slightest change of color to the side—

He barely had time to step back before the pale color of what looked like an overgrown spider lunged.

If he wasn’t on edge, and long since used to things jumping at him, he would have panicked.

Instead, he managed to get an arm up in time, his left hand catching the thing by the center as it writhed and screamed at him. His hand clamped down even as something like a tail wrapped his wrist and tightened. The pain nearly broke his concentration, but he didn’t let it get to him as he turned and slammed it into an exposed corner of the hallway, the sickening crack of something in the spider thing making it scramble and go crazy as he shifted his grip to one set of legs—

Was that a fucking mouth between the legs? What the fuck?

With it stunned, Izuku’s right hand went to his belt and pulled one of his few remaining shivs.

A grunt then had him slamming it through the nightmare of a mouth and driving it into the wall, the shiv finding a new home pinned to the fleshy hive around it.

With a gurgling screech, the thing relaxed and let go, allowing Izuku to untangle his left wrist from the coils of the thing’s tail, revealing deep bruises that wrapped around his arm.

The thing went silent with a final thrash of its limbs, allowing Izuku to get an actual look at it…

And then he glanced back down the corridor at one of the desiccated corpses, at how its face was wrapped in a familiar-looking spider thing and its chest was ripped open from the inside.

“Oh. Well, that’s way more terrifying than I thought it was going to be.”

He winced as he heard something starting to hiss, and looked to see that the facehugger he had pinned to the wall was starting to smoke from the mouth around the shiv, a familiar green fluid slowly dripping down and deforming the metal.

Turning, he started jogging for the way back up—

And the music that had been playing suddenly died out with a mangled screech.

‘Ah shit. They found the speakers, I guess.’

Izuku picked up the pace, going as fast as he could while keeping his footsteps silent.

‘Ball of the foot first, then heel, then push.’

He got to the ladder, and began to climb… when he heard it.

From inside the hive, screaming.

Angry screaming.

“It sounds like the Aliens just found out about the eggs getting fried, and they are not happy,” Izuku muttered under his breath as he pulled himself up onto the catwalk that surrounded the reactor core…

And face to face with a half-dozen Synths that were maintaining it.

Izuku took a deep breath, and hoped to any god that might be listening that this worked, before shouting.

“WORKING JOES, INITIATE ORDER VINDICTIVE!”

The synths all froze for a moment as Izuku held his breath.

And then, as one, all of their eyes turned red in sequence.

‘Please work, please work, please work—’

As they started advancing, Izuku sprinted at them, listening as they all began to sprout warnings in their monotones.

“You Don’t Belong Here.”

“Unauthorized Access Noted.”

He didn’t really care. He ducked around one Synth, and juked another. He was focused on the central console, where the controls to regulate power were. He needed to set the reactor to max, so that it would initiate a purge. That was the easy part, the hard part was—

“SCCRRREEEEECCCCCHHHHHHHH”

That. The Aliens he pissed off.

As one climbed up back towards the ladder and began to advance, Izuku kept running.

Then he heard it.

“You Are Not Allowed Here.”

He glanced back to see one of the Synths had grabbed the Alien’s arm, and the hulking mass was clearly confused.

‘Haha! Fuck yes. The Vindictive program worked!’

The execution was simple. Instead of trying to program an entirely new targeting and aggressive system to attack only the Aliens… Izuku simply added the identification file of the Aliens to the crew. At the lowest security level.

And since the Working Joes were currently under orders to eliminate all crew members…

Well, why should Izuku be the only one being harassed?

He ducked around another of the Synths and sprinted the last few steps up and to the console, already pulling his tuner to bypass the system.

He heard more screeching, and more upset Joes, but by the time the sound of one of the Synths marching up to him became clear, he was already done.

The console beeped, and he grabbed a switch and threw it to full.

And the reactor began to hum.

And that was Izuku’s cue to run. There was one last part: to the control room back above the reactor, where the emergency purge needed to be triggered.

He barely got two feet before a mangled Working Joe got tossed to the floor before him.

He slowly turned around.

There, covered in the white fluid that filled the Synths, was a nearly-unscathed Xenomorph slowly advancing along one of the catwalks.

Izuku gave a snarl, and pulled his shotgun/flamethrower from his back.

“You want to go?”

The Alien began to pick up its pace, and Izuku brought the gun up.

“Let’s fucking go.”

And then it was nothing but gunfire and screaming.

---

Now

As Bakugou closed the distance, Shoto kept his cool and raised his fists, his right arm wreathed in layers of compressed ice. He had a split second to reflect on the sheer genius of Bakugou’s tactics, and of the way that the game had been changed.

It was almost four in the afternoon, and the sports festival had started over six hours earlier.

And the entire time, he and Bakugou had been pushing their quirks to the limit.

Glaciers, massive explosions, constant tricks and uses. They had been showing off and using their quirks non-stop.

They were both out of gas.

Bakugou knew that and still opened with such a massive blast, forcing Shoto to respond in kind with a fortress.

And that forced both of them to hit their limits.

Which meant that the match came down not to their quirks, but to their fists and skill.

So as Bakugou closed in with a flurry of jabs, light and fast, Shoto set his core, found his balance, and stood his ground.

The first few strikes were caught with the ice armor, and Shoto dodged those it couldn’t, breathing heavily from the steam and heat as they clashed in the center of the arena. His right arm, heavy with ice as it was, was planted in front of him, raised to catch hits and take damage, while his left lashed out with carefully aimed and measured hits, designed to keep Bakugou occupied.

Bakugou was clearly a skilled fighter, light on his feet and aggressive. His style was fast, loosely defined, but viscous. There was boxing, wrestling, bits of MMA.

But Shoto didn’t grow up abused under the guise of training to not have developed his own skills.

He met each strike with his own, ducking punches and weaving through strikes with his personalised form of Wing Chun. Normally, he would have followed up dodges with freezing limbs, trapping his opponent, but every time he tried to slowly reach for and build his quirk, Bakugou would meet it with flashes of explosions to break his focus.

Soon enough, they both abandoned quirks entirely, signaled by the ice cracking under strikes as they got more aggressive, soon leaving Todoroki with only a bracer and ice wrapped knuckles.

“You fucking—” A clash of fists- “—short sighted—” A kick, dodged by a half step. “—MORON!” The foot came back in a snap kick and Shoto took it to the chest, stumbling back even as he fought to keep vertical.

As he swayed back, Bakugou kept talking, the words ringing in his head.

“You think for a fucking second you can half-ass this?”

A dodge and a parry, ice meeting sparks.

“That there isn’t going to be a reckoning!?” Shoto grimaced and shot off a wave of ice with a kick, nearly taking out Bakugou at the knees.

“You know why—” The blast of an explosion cut him off.

“FUCK YOUR OLD MAN!” Bakugou snarled and his hand crackled, the sudden scent of burnt sugar filling the air as he drew a hand back. “STAND UP AND STOP FUCKING AROUND!”

The strike was dead on, and even with his ice armor, the blast slammed into his chest. It sent Shoto flying back, and only a lucky twist let him land and roll onto his feet, chest singed and smoking, his right sleeve shredded and ice armor shattered.

Bakugou lowered his voice, something... wounded entering his tone.

“This world doesn’t care about the problems you have. It’ll throw everything it’s got at you, and the only thing that matters in the end is if you live or die.”

The words hit hard… but all it did was make Shoto furious.

“YOU THINK I DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT?”

With gritted teeth, he threw his hand around, his already-taxed quirk being pushed.

The wave of ice was jagged and vicious, and nearly caught Bakugou off balance. Only a desperate blast shattered the reaching tips of the ice.

“YOU DON’T SEEM TO, BASTARD!”

With a growl, Shoto reached. He ignored the ache, the cold, the stiffness.

He unleashed a glacier.

It was half-formed, barely stable, but all the more dangerous for it. Massive jagged shapes rising up around him and tearing up the ground, shattering concrete with their growth.

For a moment, he almost thought he’d won.

And then a blast drew his gaze up to see the diving form of Bakugou, hand outstretched, sparks flashing, heat rushing at him—

The memory of boiling water falling towards his face, of heat and steam and burning—

Without thinking, panic rushing through him, Shoto raised his left hand.

And then there was fire.

---

Then

Blood dripped to the ground, staggered steps leading away from a tightly-sealed doorway, the mechanism sealed shut with still-glowing heat.

Izuku leaned on the console with heavy breaths, feeling perpetual pain as he tightly wrapped his newest wound, the thick bandages already bleeding through. His left hand was missing half its fingers, caught by the Alien’s tail as it slashed through his shotgun. The only compensation was that it caught the fuel tank for the flamethrower in the same attack.

His left hand hurt. Burns and bruises trailing down his wrist, and fingers mangled and torn to shreds.

As he tightened the bandage with a hissed-out breath, he pulled his last medical syringe from his pocket.

The prick of the needle and the hiss of the canister was familiar, but the slow spread of numbing cold that slowly spread through his wounds was wonderful.

As he tossed the empty syringe to the side, he took a deep breath and got to work on the console.

It was simple enough. With the system already blaring warnings about the capacitors being offline, all he needed to do was go to the emergency settings, adjust the values… and boom.

Emergency Purge Initiated.

There.

Watching through the windows overlooking the reactor, Izuku had a front-row seat to the way power began to build up, rings of lightning beginning to surge across the various parts of the reactor. The gleam of Cherenkov radiation bloomed around the base of the reactor as excess heat was released before, with a massive pulse, the reactor released energy, arcing lightning and plasma through the conduits…

And then, in the glow, he saw it.

One.

Then three.

Then a dozen.

Aliens crawling up from the depths, leaping from place to place, unharmed by the shocking fingers of lightning… and angry. The hive was destroyed, but not the Aliens.

“Fuck.” With a growl, Izuku slammed his good hand down, cracking the screen on the console.

“FUCK.”

He stared at the screens as his mind raced.

There was really only one last thing he could do.

He glanced at the controls and began to move through options.

He had to finish this.

Somehow.

The sudden beep of his communicator broke him from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Someone just took off from the station! One of the medical shuttles just left and the Anesdoria is moving to meet it!”

“Holy shit, the captain.” Izuku turned and moved away from the reactor. “Is there another shuttle?”

“Yes, but-”

“I’m going after him. Keep in orbit for the station, if this works out I’ll meet up with you after this.”

“...Understood. Torrens out.”

Izuku ignored the wounds. The aches.

One last loose end… and then he just needed to drop this godforsaken station into the gas giant.

But first… medical.

---

Now

Izuku watched the smoke clear, knowing what was about to happen. What he would see even before the announcers spoke up.

Even on the screen, he could track the beats of the fight, though the announcers were half a beat late.

He saw the flare of light, the blast of fire had caught Kacchan off guard, and he wasn’t ready to react. He had also seen the sheer terror on Todoroki’s face, painted clear as day as he raised his left hand.

A flashback.

The explosion that resulted was bright enough to wash out the cameras.

As the screen refocused, he could see Kacchan laying on the grass. Not unconscious but panting and half-collapsed, skin red and blisters across his arms.

Meanwhile, Todoroki was sprawled in the center of a jagged dome of shattered ice, his left side still smoking.

‘Premature ignition. Shit.’

Izuku hung his head low as he breathed out in a mix of exasperation and relief.

Kacchan was still a hard-headed moron.

It wasn’t just his hands that generated explosive sweat, it was all of his sweat glands. His hands just had the highest concentration of explosives, as well as the ability to ignite them at will.

Todoroki, however, just set all of his sweat alight at once, blowing Kacchan out of the arena like an out-of-control bottle rocket.

And, because he didn’t expect Todoroki to panic, he wasn’t ready to adjust course.

Izuku shook his head, and stood up.

The announcers were already declaring that Todoroki had won, and that meant that Izuku needed to go attend to his gear. With a parting nod to the still-annoyed Recovery Girl, he snagged his blade and gloves, as well as a high-calorie bar. He considered leaving his sports jacket behind, the ragged mess was shredded pretty badly, but he was limited on material and it could still be useful. The cloth was fairly resistant.

With all his gear gathered up, Izuku headed out into the hallways of the stadium. Momo was still out of it and, while Kyouka was up in the stands with Koda, he didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now. He took off into the passages leading to the waiting room he was going to use. He would meditate for a few minutes and get ready.

“Finally! Do you see!? With my fire, you’ve won.”

The words were arrogant and loud, aggressive and blatant, and immediately set all of Izuku’s hair raising.

Izuku, with the ease of long practice, silenced his steps and softened his presence before closing in on the tunnel to the field and leaning against the corner. The light of the field cast shadows down the tunnel, and on the floor in front of him, he could see it.

A warped shadow cast by Endeavor’s flames, turning his shadow into a muddled mess, while next to it was the distinct form of Todoroki.

And even by the shadow, with its exaggerated profile, he could see the tremble of shock in his form. The flinch as a hand was clapped on his shoulder.

His left shoulder.

“All you have to do now is beat that quirkless trash, and you’ll prove how superior my training is.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“NO! I won’t… I won’t use it! Not again!”

Todoroki Shoto’s voice was cracked, hoarse and desperate.

Izuku closed his eyes and didn’t flinch at the sound of flesh against flesh.

“Brat. Do you think that matters? You’ve already used it once. Your little attempt at rebellion has failed.”

With heavy steps, Endeavor began to walk back towards the tunnels, towards Izuku.

By the time he turned the corner, Izuku was long gone.

---

Then

Izuku stood at the computer, looking through the logs.

And what would you know? One ‘Captain H. Marlow’ had input an approach vector and pass-code for the Anesidora docking procedure.

“Here we go…”

It was a matter of copying and moving the information over from Docking Bay 1, which was now empty, to Bay 3, where the last of the medical shuttles were located.

‘Should be enough to reach the ship… What the fuck are you doing, Marlow? Escaping?’

As he finished typing in the last of the commands, he glanced back down the halls into the rest of medical.

And the distant screech of one of the aliens.

“Yeah. Time to get the fuck out of here.”

He closed the door as he slid into the shuttle, looking out the windshield at the vast empty space… and had to breathe deeply to ignore the pain in his lungs at the memory of what it was like to be there without a suit.

---

Now

Iida Tenya woke up feeling groggy.

His face hurt.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” He blinked, and the image of Recovery Girl came into focus.

“Hello, ma’am?”

“Look into this light for me, will you? You took quite a hit to the head, and I need to check if you’re concussed.”

As the heroine ran him through a basic concussion test, Tenya couldn’t help but feel ashamed of having been knocked out. He knew that Bakugou was an extraordinary fighter, but even in hand -to-hand, he just hadn't been able to keep up.

What would his family think?

As the test finished up, he finally had a moment to look around. Yaoyorozu-san was sleeping on the cot across from him, and near the door, Bakugou-san was resting, his arms wrapped up to the shoulder with bandages and his eyes closed.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About an hour. You missed the semi-finals but the final match is in ten minutes. Feel free to stretch your legs, though I expect you’ll be sore for a few hours.”

“Of course.”

As Recovery Girl shuffled off, heading for Bakugou, Tenya pushed himself to his feet.

She wasn’t wrong. His entire body felt stiff—a side effect of the accelerated healing of Recovery Girl’s quirk? Something to consider for future classes. He would bring it up to Bakugou and Yaoyororzu at another time; as the class representatives, they should consider making accommodations if their classmates are having issues after healing sessions.

Glancing at the clock, he squinted at the blurry numbers and reached down to pull out his phone—

When his hand met an empty pocket, he sighed. Right. He had spare glasses and his phone in his locker.

Well. Walking around would likely do him good!

As he slowly marched for the door, he paused when Bakugou spoke up.

“Hey, Engines.”

Iida turned, blinking as he took in the out-of-focus blonde. “Yes?”

“Good match. You had me there for a moment with that speed burst.”

He couldn’t read Bakugou’s expression, but that sounded almost like a compliment. “Ah… Thank you. Your hand-to-hand is impressive.”

“Thanks.”

Pausing a bit at the awkward silence, he turned towards the door once more. It was only a two minute walk to the lockers. He should have plenty of time to head for the stands and watch the last fight with the company of his classmates.

Five minutes later, Iida could only stare at his phone in confusion.

“Fifteen missed calls? From mother?”

He felt a surge of regret. Was she disappointed? Worried?

He tapped to dial her back, and held his phone up to his ear.

“Mother, I’m so sorry for—”

…

“Wait, Mother, slow down! What’s this about Tensai-niisan?”

…

“No… Wait! Where are you? Where is Nii-san being taken?”

…

“No. I’ll… I’ll be there soon. I’ll call a cab. Go with him.”

…

“Please. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The phone was lowered by shaking hands, and tears dripped onto the floor.

Seconds later, he was gone, sprinting away, ignoring the ache of his limbs as he rushed down to the exit.

Chapter 41: Area Of Effect

Momo stepped out of the hall and into the seating area, still blinking the sleep from her eyes even as she took in the rest of her class.

 

“Momo!” Kyouka’s voice caught her attention and she looked over, Kyouka and Koda sitting near the front of the stands and waving for her.

 

It was a few seconds to walk over, and she glanced up, seeing the ads and the countdown timer on the screen far above her. 

 

Five minutes before the final match of the tournament.

 

As she sat down, wincing at the twinge from her bruises, she smiled at her friends.

“So, what did I miss?”

“Bakugou got taken out by Todoroki, but it was close. And Izuku has been… somewhere. Probably getting ready for his fight.”

 

“You haven’t seen him?”

 

“Neither of us have. He hasn’t come back up here since he carried you off the field.”

 

Momo wanted to flush at the teasing tone in Kyouka’s voice, before a flap of wings came down. Koda’s companion… Kuro? Was resting on the animal-speaker’s shoulder, seeming to peck at his ear as soft squawking filled the air. Koda listened intently, and his eyes widened somewhat, before his soft voice came out. “Ah… That’s not good.” 

 

“Koda?” “What’s up?” Both Kyouka and Momo leaned in, worried at the reaction.

 

“Kuro said… Todoroki and Endeavor were talking, and it didn't look pleasant. And then, one of the other birds saw Iida running off somewhere.”

Momo bit her lip, and pulled out her phone from her pocket. “I don’t have anything from Iida, but I’ll send him a message.”

 

“And what about Todoroki?” Koda asked, looking alarmed.

 

“I don’t know what we can do. The fight is about to start!”

As one, they all turned to glance at the time, worry in their hearts as they watched the final minute tick down.

 

“You have to trust Deku.”

 

At the voice behind them, all three jumped, before twisting to see Bakugou. His clothes were still scorched, but his arms and neck were wrapped up in bandages, and the long red marks of a burn stretched up his jaw. “I knew Half-and-Half down there had issues, and I let him know it. He’s been planning for this fight for almost three hours.”

 

“Do you think he can beat him?”

 

Bakugou stepped forwards and leaned on the railing next to them, red eyes locked on the stage below.

 

“Yeah, I do. But it’s not going to be pretty.”

 

And at that, the timer hit zero, and the two fighters took the first steps onto the field.

 

---

Then

The hiss of the shuttle locking into place rang out as Izuku checked his gear, then stretched. 

 

He felt… stiff. And sore.

 

Cuts, bruises, burns, and more. Most of them had been treated, but that didn’t mean much when he was stuck fighting and running on them. Thankfully, heading through medical had given him a chance to stock up on bandages and painkillers. As he tightened the wrappings on his wrist, he winced at the spike of pain. While the facehugger hadn’t broken or dislocated his wrist, it had certainly done some damage. 

 

The cuts across his body were all sealed or stitched up, before being wrapped tightly where he could.

 

As he packed away the now much reduced medical gear into his bag, he hefted the shotgun he had recovered after the fight down in engineering.

 

‘Three revolvers, shotgun, shivs, a full set of two each of the bombs and distractions...’

 

He ran the list through as he noted where everything was stashed on his kit, and reached out, hitting the door switch.

 

And the door opened out into the dimly lit Anesidora .

 

Shotgun up, Izuku moved in.

 

The dark corridors were filled with the creak and hum of the ship. The running lights cast everything in layers of shadow as he moved past piles of crates around the docking bay door.

 

The main lights were off, and it took only a few seconds to realize that the ship's engines were essentially on idle, leaving only enough power to keep the ship in orbit around the planet. The ships creaking and shuddering set him on edge, and reaching up he tapped the light on his headset, the bright white glow sweeping as he slowly looked across the area around him.

 

“Midoriya, right? The engineer?”

 

The voice nearly made him flinch, echoing over the ship’s speakers. A slow drawl with an unplaceable accent, but with a deadly kind of calm.

 

“Yeah, that’s me. And you would be Marlow, yeah? The Captain of this ship?” Izuku called back, keeping moving even as he passed out of the docking bay into the halls of the ship itself.

 

“The very same. I have to say, I heard quite a bit about you from Jethro. Not that he knew I could hear him at the time.”

 

“Jethro?”

 

“Yeah, Jethro Waits, the marshal of Sevastopol…. He was a good man. Let me out of the cell when things went to shit back on the station. He didn’t make it far after that though.” Marlow’s voice was calm, almost mournful. 

 

“I… knew things went bad. Damn.”

 

“So. Why are you here kid? I know you’ve got as much of a hard on for the fucking Aliens as I do, so why follow me out here?”

 

“Not a lot of options.” Passing through another door, Izuku glanced over what looked almost like a Medical bay… and took in the sight of blood covering one of the cots. “Sevastopol is fucked, the Torrens is low on fuel, and any survivors left are in deep shit. So when you booked it,” with a grunt he pulled out his jack to get through a grate, “I got curious!”

 

“Not a bad thought. You should have left on that other ship though.”

“Really? And why, exactly, would that be?”

 

“Because I don’t plan to survive to the end of this.”

 

“You and me both. Explain."

 

Izuku came out and found the computer consoles for the ship's main power.

 

‘Reset this… execute this file to bring the power back up…’ as he tapped at the keys, he slowly began to bring the engines  back online, only for a notice about the safeties being bypassed to pop up.

 

And then another. And another.

 

“Because I’m gonna turn this ship into a bomb, and blow those fuckers to kingdom come.”

 

For the first time in quite some time, Izuku felt a genuine smile stretch across his lips.

 

“What a coincidence. I was going to try and drop the station into the planet. You want some help?”

 

---

Now

Shoto walked silently up onto the stage, ignoring the rage that lingered under his skin, that tried to grab at his breath and his head with every beat of his heart.

 

‘One more fight. The most important one. No Fire. No hesitation. Take him out fast and give him no time to get close or plan. No more mistakes.’

 

Midoriya’s skill with a sword meant nothing if he couldn’t get close. His feral drive was only a threat if he would get a chance to use it. His absurd strength would be defeated if he had no leverage.

 

All of the strengths he had, were countered by the quirk that Todoroki had in his right hand.

 

Nothing that Midoriya had shown off could counter his glacier. And so, that would be the way this tournament ends. A single, climatic, strike.

 

He stepped out onto the field, and began walking for the concrete of the platform.

 

Across from him, Midoriya matched him step for step. His hair was tied back into a tight bun, but loose strands of green hair swayed as the wind tugged at them. His sports uniform top, shredded as it was, hung from the back and side of his belt like a ragged skirt, leaving him in a sheer black tank top that was showing off for the first time the pale musculature of his shoulders and the way the blood red bandages reached from his gloves up to his biceps.

 

Todoroki himself had swapped for a new uniform from Recovery Girl’s storage after his first was considered… ‘indecent’ after the explosion. Now as he stepped onto the field, the crisp blue and white uniform was contrasting with the red of his hair.

 

On the screens above, they were a study in contrasts. Clean cut bright colors and a posture that brought to mind royalty and military bearing.

 

Ragged cloth and dark colors, only broken by the bright red of boots and armwraps. A sword and an almost feral grace that spoke of danger.

 

As they got closer, more clips played. Their previous fights on display.

 

The icebergs and spires of frost that took out Jirou and Monoma contrasted the flashing of the sword and the sway of red bandages that caught Setsuna and Uraraka.

 

The flash of flames and explosions that took out Bakugou.

 

Momo sprawled across the grass, shattered weapons laying across the concrete near her.

 

“ITS TIME, LISTENERS! THE TWO FIRST YEARS WHO HAVE RISEN ABOVE! THE ICE KING, TODOROKI SHOTO! AND THE DARK SWORDSMAN, MIDORIYA IZUKU!”

 

With measured steps they both stepped onto the concrete, Shoto already feeling the slow ache of cold begin to build under his hand.

 

Across from him, Midoriya took a deep breath, and lifted the heavy sword up, holding it straight vertical in an almost salute, only one eye visible past the scarred surface as he focused on Shoto.

 

“BUT LET’S NOT KEEP YOU WAITING! MIDNIGHTTT!!!! COUNT US OFF!!!!”

 

Midnight stepped forwards, but neither Shoto or Midoriya broke eye contact. The tension between them was almost palpable. 

 

“READY!”

 

With a slow motion, Midoriya swept the blade down, and shifted forwards, the sword held out and behind him, arms tensing as he slowly balanced forwards on shifting feet.

 

Shoto shifted himself, sliding his left side back and focusing, the first faint glimmers of frost coating his fingers as he brought it up.

 

“SET”

 

The tension focused. 

 

The world around them was dismissed. All of Midoriya’s focus was now narrowed on Shoto and only Shoto, and for a split second he thought he saw something. The air shimmering around the green teen seemed to distort, even as he kept his focus forwards on Midoirya’s stance, those green eyes peering out from a desolate expanse.

 

But then it came.

 

The intent.

 

It had been only two weeks, but he had nearly forgotten… or perhaps wanted to forget.

 

Shadows. Blood. Bones. Death.

 

This was a monster in human skin.

 

“BEGIN!”

 

And with the last word from Midnight…

 

Steel flashed like lightning, and with a wave of a hand, and a sharp exhale—

 

The World Froze.

 

---

Then

Izuku glanced over the console, before looking at the reinforced viewport that looked over into the engine itself. Sealed in with the engine, the broad shouldered form of Marlow was elbow-deep in the guts of the still-idling engines. Wires were pulled out, safeties and coolant systems sabotaged and set just so. Their plan, messy as it was, was this;

As the Anesidora shifted closer to Sevastopol on its approach, they would set the core to maximum but leave the ship's thrusters and engines just above idling. With some tinkering, that would mean that the engines would slowly overheat before initiating a cascading fusion reaction. It didn’t matter at that point if it hit Sevastopol or missed—a nuclear explosion would occur, taking out the station in the process. 

 

Whether any of the station survived or not, the damage and impact would disable any chance at keeping it above the planet, and it would eventually fall into massive atmospheric storms of the gas giant far below them.

 

Meanwhile, after the engine began its final approach, the two of them would book it to one of the medical shuttles, fly back to Sevastopol as fast as possible, and then hail the Torrens. 

 

Then it was a matter of getting on the ship, getting everyone situated, and then leaving.

 

“There isn't going to be much free time to do this. After we get to the station the shuttle will be out of fuel and we’ll have to rush to get to the Torrens before the Anesidora goes into its final approach.”

 

“I know, kid.” With a gleam of electric white, part of the engine was cut with a plasma cutter.

 

Izuku was in charge of overriding the computer safeties, canceling emergency shutdown alerts and working on the timing of just when the engine should go ballistic. So far he had the course mapped out, and the computer set up to slowly increase the power over time. His crippled left hand was slowing him down, but it had enough fingers left to do some work.

 

“I think I’m done here. You?”

 

“Almost…” the clunk of metal and the hiss of released gasses rang out, even audible past the glass.

 

And then Izuku heard something… skittering.

 

He barely had time to spin around, a warning on his lips before it was too late.

 

Marlow was staggering back, muffled screams trying to sound past the chitin that wrapped his face.

 

“Shit!”

 

Izuku darted for the door, slamming the release even as he counted down the seconds.

 

As the door hissed and began to slowly slide open, he shoved through, ignoring the sting of pulling stitches on his leg to all but take the thrashing captain to the ground, hand instinctively going for his shiv before he froze.

 

Acidic blood. Shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT!

 

He abruptly shifted his plan and heaved, trying to get Marlow on his side.

 

With a few moments of grunting, he had the now eerily still captain on his side, and pulled out a flare and a shiv.

 

“Come on… come on...”

 

With a spark, the flare burst to light, casting everything in a harsh red glow, even as he took a breath, grabbed Marlow’s shoulder with his maimed hand to steady his aim, and brough the flare down.

 

The sudden return of the thrashing was terrifying.

 

But Izuku held tight, watching, sweat dripping down his brown and fingers white-knuckled as he watched the legs of the face hugger tense and thrash, tearing at Marlow’s face— 

 

There it is!

 

With a grasp, he dropped the flare and wrapped his hands around the legs of the face hugger, before he pulled, ignoring the sheer fire that rushed up his nerves as it thrashed against the stumps of his left ring finger and pinky.

 

The sound of it pulling away, mixed with the screaming, his and the aliens, echoed in his ears as he managed to rip the face hugger away from the body, ignoring the long strands of slime and the tube that had been down Marlow’s throat as he pinned it to the ground.

 

With a snarl, he twisted, slamming it down.

 

Again.

 

And AGAIN!

 

‘Sounds almost like crab legs cracking open.’

 

Izuku didn’t stop till it was a broken twitching mess.

 

And then he shoved a shiv through it and hammered it into the deck of the ship with a stomp.

 

Turning back, he saw Marlow shifting and groaning.

 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!’

 

“K-kid?”

 

Marlow sounded… broken. His voice was hoarse, his throat covered in deep bruises and breath coming with a wet gurgle.

 

“I got one of those fucking crawling things off you—”

 

He didn’t miss the sheer look of fear and resignation acoss Marlows face.

 

And then… Marlow just started talking.

 

“You need to finish it kid. Kill the entire goddamn station.” Blood flecked his lips as Marlow closed his eyes, face twitching with each new surge of pain through his body. “I know… how this goes. I saw it with Cat. I…. I can’t go through it kid.”

“What? What do you mean by it? I got it off!”

Marlow’s chuckle was anything but funny, but he spoke all the same. “The little fucks aren’t the eggs. They simply lay the seeds. It sits…” with a shaky finger, he poked himself in the center of his shirt logo. “Right here. Waiting. Growing. Feeding.”

 

As the fingers dropped he gave a shuddering gasp.

 

“Kid… Don’t leave me to birth one of the fuckers.”

 

“Marlow, but-”

“The ship’s on- on automatic. You’ve got the codes. The… the command numbers. There's nothing... I need... to do. And I’m not gonna let this thing grow up. Not when there’s so many things that can still… go wrong.”

 

“Fuck. God damn it.” Izuku bit back the sting of tears as he met Marlow’s eyes.

 

“C’mon, kid. Do it quickly, yeah?” with a grim chuckle the finger came back up even as his other hand lashed out, pulling Izuku to his knees face to face with him.

 

“One in the chest… one in the head.” His face almost softened. “Cat’s waiting for me, you know? Don’t… don’t wanna keep her waiting. Leave the body to go down with the ship, yeah? Full on Viking funeral.”

 

Izuku bit back a sob and nodded, swallowing the ache in his throat. “Can’t…” a dozen objections. Different excuses choked in his chest. With a swallow, he tried for a smile. Like All Might. Smile. Just Smile. “You shouldn’t make her wait, huh?”

Marlow closed his eyes, relaxing. “Yeah. Yeah, I can’t keep her waiting… Thanks… Midoriya.”

 

“You can call me Izuku.”

“Izuku, then… You should call me Henry...”

 

Izuku took a slow breath and pulled his revolver, planting it against the center of Marlow's chest.

 

“Say hi to the wife for me, Henry.”

 

“Oh, I will, kid. Give ‘em Hell.”

 

As the man gave a smile, Izuku pulled the trigger.

 

And then a second time, aiming higher.

 

Henry Marlow died with laughter on his lips, and a dead alien in his chest.

 

Izuku staggered up and to the console, shoving back into the control room even as he bit back sobs and reached to fiddle with the computer once more.

 

Ten minutes later, his tears had dried, leaving only salty streaks down his cheeks as he sat back into the shuttle seat, fingers triggering the return flight to the Sevastopol.

 

Behind him, the fusion core of the Anesidora began to wake up.

 

Izuku could only see it once more before the shuttle was oriented away.

 

Marlow had been the one to bring the alien here, rushing to save his wife. 

 

Seems only fitting that his ship ends the infestation.

 

One last job. One last stretch.

 

And then it would be over.

 

---

Now

‘This is almost exciting.’

 

Izuku could feel it, the untempered edge of something that was almost killing intent from Todoroki. It was enough to get his blood pumping.

 

With a click, he unlocked his sword’s secret, feeling the slight shift in weight as he focused on it.

 

And, Izuku had to admit, moving forwards and planting a foot before he pushed, that Todoroki’s quirk could be impressive.

 

But it had limitations, especially as ice.

 

‘Growth patterns, points of contact, and sightlines.’

 

As Todoroki began to shift, seemingly in slow motion, Izuku turned his step into a twist.

 

The gleam of his massive metal blade flying up caught the light, as he threw it skyward, the gleaming metal and red ribbon flipping up through the air as Izuku sent it as high as he could, before the ice rushed for him.

 

Izuku charged it head on, and as the first traces of frost crept across the ground, he shifted, and leapt.

 

‘It’s like dealing with Seath’s abilities. He can’t expand beyond what his quirk is currently connected to, he’s channeling it through the ground to form the base. And if i’m quick…’

 

A step that was more of a kick and a skip and he was moving. 

 

‘That means the ice can’t grow around me.’

 

The ice grew beneath him as he shifted from point to point, legs thrumming with tension as every step inside the cover of the frost and snow pushed him off one point or another, pushing him up higher.

 

What would have consumed him if he stood and fought, he instead turned into a race, climbing higher and higher, bouncing from shattered stone carried up with the rush of ice, or from the naturally forming edges and points that his glacier formed.

 

As the speed at which it rose began to slow, the glacier creaking and cracking in the afternoon sun, Izuku found a perch, hidden from down below, perched just below the highest point of the glacier as drifts of frost and snow wreathed it, and he took a deep breath.

 

He was higher than the edge of the arena around him. Something that had to be nearly a hundred meters up.

 

‘What. A. Rush.’

 

He leaned forwards slightly and could see the slope of the glacier, reaching down towards a single point of red against the concrete and ice far below. The white ice spread out across the entire half of the arena, only barely coming to a stop before the far stands, but covering the entirety of the concrete and most of the field of grass, except for what was directly behind Todoroki.

 

He heard the faint sounds of the crowds. Their roaring. The stunned disbelief.

 

And he drowned them out.

 

Instead, he shook out his legs, and then stepped up onto the lip of the glaciers tip.

 

And pushed off.

 

A half flip to gain some distance, a measured glance at just how steep the hill was, and he shifted to adjust.

 

And then he hit the side of the Glacier, and shifted.

 

Each step was not stopping, but speeding up his descent, guiding his freefall past the ice .

 

The shouts of the crowds going wild and the screams of Present Mic over the speakers was ignored as he focused on two things.

The red spot that was quickly coming into sight was Todoroki, but near him was the loose red ribbon hanging from the pommel of the sword where it had landed, point driven into the ice from it’s throw.

 

With a feral grin, Izuku hit the lower reaches of the glacier, where it began to slope down towards Todoroki’s foot.

 

And Izuku was going something close to half his terminal velocity.

 

He was used to it.

 

With a shift of his legs, his next step turned into a skid, metal and ice grating on each other as Izuku turned his fall into a slide, ripping up the ice beneath metal soles as he bent his knees with the downward force, angled just so , and then...

 

Push.

 

A fall into a skip, as much momentum as he could manage ramped and turned sideways before he could die from the impact, the tear of G-forces as they ripped at the loose cloth around his waist and the cold air stinging across his skin.

 

And then he was there, foot stepping down with enough force that ice and concrete under his heel crumbled.

 

One gloved hand, reared back in preparation, and Izuku twisted.

 

It was a full-body motion, every muscle working in a beatific concert of violence for his opening punch.

 

He tracked the surprise and flicker of fear across Todoroki’s face, and the racing of ice across his side, the way a fist covered in glistening white raised to meet his telegraphed hit—

 

‘Why, of course I'll test that armor for you.’

 

And then the crack of his reinforced glove as he turned all that ice into a spray of shattered chunks.

 

Todoroki was thrown back from the hit, as the amount of force knocked him off his feet and sent him flipping. A full rotation before he slammed heavily into the ground and skidded on the concrete on his crossed arms and knees as he scrambled for purchase.

 

Izuku let him, hand reaching out to where his sword was entombed into a chunk of glacier nearly twice his height. With a tightened hand, he twisted the handle, the faint sound of something clicking ringing out, as the metal casing of the blade split . The two grooves that had marked the ‘edges’ of the blade cracked open as the sides of the blade itself, marred with cracks and scorch marks, also unhooked, sliding free from the hilt… before the hilt itself broke open, revealing a grooved locking mechanism.

 

The motion was slow, exaggeratedly so. He wanted Todoroki to see this, to get back to his feet.

 

Izuku drew his arm back, and something was pulled from the depths of his much larger weapon, which was split open like a demonic flower.

 

The grip itself was still sized for the much larger sword it had once been, nearly the length of his arm from elbow to fingertip, before it widened slightly, the locking mechanism where the rest of the sheath had been sealed replacing the crossguard. From there it was a single treated length of metal that gleamed blue, the rounded edges of the quarter inch thick and inch wide rectangle coated with black rubber on both sides and the rounded tip.

 

It was straight, slim, and light.

 

The sheathing had been nearly two thirds of the weapon's entire weight. It had been a test. A way to keep him from getting lost in the fight. He had to devote so much of his focus to the weapon, to keep under control and from the momentum ripping at his limbs and muscles, to control the mass even when throwing it around.

 

Now, it is gone. Now, he had a blade he could use in hand, balanced and fast.

 

As Izuku twirled his sword, feeling its balance as it swished through the air by his shoulder, an actual sparring sword, Todoroki pushed to his feet.

 

Izuku gave him a second, letting him get his feet under him, but before the half frozen teen could even take in the changes, he spoke.

 

“You had a nice start.”

 

And with a gleam of metal, killing intent bleeding from him, Izuku went for the throat.

 

“MY TURN.”

 

---

Then

Izuku slipped through the doors quietly, hearing the distant creaks and shifts of the station around him.

 

It had descended into anarchy while he was gone.

 

With the nest destroyed, the aliens were going rampant, hunting for survivors and tracking down as many victims as they could, setting up new parts of a hive wherever they could. While the code had set the Synths against them, that didn’t really help when they were tearing the goddamn ship apart.

 

Chunks of the stations were either on fire, or completely disabled.

 

He had been forced to move like a ghost, avoiding as much as he could as he crawled from Medical over to the communications tower.

 

He glanced over the bloodstained room, the variety of synths he had taken out as well as the exploded vent from earlier… and several fresh blood stains from where someone else had made it up here. Stepping over to the comms, he synced back into the channel for the Torrens.

 

“Right.” he tapped his earpiece. “ Torrens. Can you read me?”

 

“ Midoriya! Thank god, we were wondering what the hell was going on! We’ve got only three hours before we have to leave the system if we want to be able to line up for long range transit and be able reach civilized space on our current fuel.”

 

“Good. I’m done here anyway, there’s nothing left I can save on this hellhole. I need to get to you, any suggestions?”

 

“The space tether that Samuels used is out of the question; it got snapped by debris hours ago. Unless you think you can make the jump, we’ll have to hard dock for a moment.”

 

Izuku didn’t like that. He didn’t like that idea at all.

 

“Shit. Where can you do that?” Izuku was already opening the database, but maybe they could see something he couldn’t. He would have taken the shuttles, but refueling it was part of the process and it would take far too long.

 

“I see an emergency hardpoint near where you are. If you extend the gantry, it should be only a short time before you can get to the ship.”

 

Izuku quickly found it.

 

“Done. Extending gantry now. How long till you get here?”

 

“Fifteen Minutes. Get suited up and we’ll be there soon.”

 

Izuku nodded to himself and pushed off, heading for the airlock near the gantry, watching the metal scaffolding unfold through the viewport before he headed into the airlock’s ready room.

 

There, sitting in a case, was a space suit.

 

‘Right.’

 

He shut the door behind him and walked over, looking over the suit and reading the instructions on the wall.

 

He was so close.

 

Maybe that’s why he was distracted.

 

He pulled the helmet out of the case, and looked it over, his only good hand checking the clasps—

 

A drop of drool splattering the glass was all the warning he got.

 

The next few seconds were a blur.

 

Something yanking his foot out from under him, dragging him up —

 

— a vent that he hadn’t checked —

 

— the slam of metal as he was whipped into the wall, his head exploding with pain —

 

— darkness creeping in as he was dragged up and away.

 

And then… nothing.

 

Now

The flash of steel and rubber was driving Shoto back. Each strike stung, and even when he managed to shift and block, it didn’t help. Ice shattered under blows that could have broken bones, but his arms never suffered the same hits. 

 

‘He’s playing with me!’

 

Jabs that knocked him off balance and sent him staggering weren’t followed up on.

 

‘He’s not taking me seriously!’

 

A rush of ice was sidestepped with a smooth motion and a strike to his left side that sent him back.

 

“Why? What does he get from this?’

 

The glacier that covered the field wasn’t helping either. With so much space blocked off, there was no room.

 

He kept stumbling up against walls of ice, but never got a chance to do anything with it. The sword would sweep in, flat of the metal slapping him away from it, leveraged swings knocking his breath away as he was sent crashing back into the center of the cleared area.

 

This could have been over already.

 

Finally, Midoriya began to talk, tone nearly casual even as the sword remained a blur of steel and rubber, keeping him off balance.

 

“You really should give up your dream of being a hero.”

 

He tried to speak only for the sword to take the air from his lungs with a jab to his diaphragm.

 

“I mean, where is your conviction? Where’s the heroism that you need?”

 

Another strike sent him sprawling.

 

“It’s insulting, really, that you made it so far only on the merits of your quirk .’

 

“Shut up—” a kick sent him up and slamming into the wall.

 

“It’s an impressive power, yes. Even just the ice is enough to give you an edge on the competition… But you don’t even use that to its full power.”

 

Shoto tried to push up, to stagger to his feet as he reached for his quirk “You… You don’t know what kind of hell I went through to—” 

 

The next blow was so fast he couldn’t see it, but more than that… the Killing Intent that wreathed Midoriya shifting as the teen laughed.

 

And it wasn’t a laugh of joy.

 

It was disdain.

 

“Hell? You think you went through Hell?”

 

He didn’t get a chance to blink before the sword slammed past him, shattering part of the glacier wall and embedding into the structure as Midoriya lunged forwards, his knee coming up and cracking against Todoroki’s face, sending him crashing back against the glacier.

 

The laugh died off as Midoriya yanked his sword and gave a flourish as he stepped back, starting to pace as he left Shoto bleeding from a split lip.

 

“You were abused, Shoto. But that’s not Hell. ”

 

The words hit him harder than the knee had.

How did he know!? Did Bakugou tell him!?

 

“Hell is worse. Hell is death that doesn’t stick, and having no other choice but fighting with everything you have or dying.”

 

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

 

With the distance, he fired off ice, ignoring the ache of his fingers as the frostnip got worse.

 

The wide-spread blast of ice— 

 

Missed.

 

Midoriya had leapt, clearing it, before planting a foot on the outcropping and using it to jump down, slamming Shoto right back into the ice with a kick to his gut, making him retch and gag.

 

Midoriya didn’t back away this time, instead a gloved hand came up and caught the side of his face, opposite the scar, shoving him back so that he was stuck staring at the shorter teen.

 

“You not giving it your all is an insult to the cause. To everyone you won’t save or won’t reach because you crippled yourself.” The hand ground the back of Todoroki’s head into the ice, and he could only feel fear.

 

And with that fear, he reached, blindly, for anything that would save him.

 

The sparks of fire that burst off him made Midoriya back off, but the others' green eyes were still locked on him, something almost like pity in their depths.

 

“You could do so much. Save so many.”

 

And then that pity changed to disgust.

 

“And you won’t.”

 

He staggered up, ignoring the way the sparks and touches of flame were melting the left sleeve of his shirt, ignoring the fact he had tossed his oath away so quickly.

 

He could only feel fear, and hate.

 

How dare he be pitied for his choice. How fucking dare this monster accuse him.

 

With a roar, he swung his left arm forwards—

 

And fire rushed across the field, steam billowing from the glacier as it was rapidly consumed by heat, turning into mist.

 

“Blinded by your own rage.”

 

The words echoed strangely in the mist, but he sent another blast off in the direction he thought it came from.

 

“Look at you—” another blast, but the voice kept shifting . “—throwing a tantrum because you can’t win with your ice.” Shoto spun, sending a ring of fire lashing out—

 

And not seeing Midoriya.

 

As the heavy mist and steam filled the air, he gave a ragged breath.

 

“Power is nothing.”

 

The voice was bouncing around the steam. But Shoto could now hear echoing footsteps.

 

“Your past? Means nothing.”

 

Metal soles on stone.

 

“You’re not a hero, but a victim.”

 

He spun, eyes darting through the steam looking for anywhere, anything that would show where Midoriya had gone.

 

“A child, cowering in the dark from the fire that burned you.”

 

“SHUT UP!”

 

“How the fuck will you ever be a hero, if you can’t even save yourself?”

 

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW!?”

 

With a roar, Shoto spun, planning to unleash a massive blast of fire—

 

Only for ragged blue cloth to ensnare his arm, he barely recognized it as Midoriya's ragged sports jacket, before it was wrapping his arm from shoulder to wrist. 

 

A kick from behind him took out his knee. He barely had a chance to yelp before he was pinned, arm held out and away, the cloth choking any flames he tried to generate, while the blade of the sword snaked around to rest along the hollow of his throat.

 

He froze. Even if it was dull, it would take only a second to crush his throat.

 

Over his shoulder, Midoriya spoke. 

 

His voice was calm. Intent.

 

“Why do you even want to be a hero, Todoroki?” 

 

A jerk and he found his eyes locking with his father, the angry flames of the number two hero a beacon in the stands. 

 

“To prove yourself to him? To show him he was wrong?”

 

The words hit him in his chest, he wanted to agree, to shout that that was exactly what he wanted—

 

But it wasn’t… Right?

 

“Because he is wrong. What he does is despicable . What he says is hypocritical… And if you spend all your time hating him, if you devote your life to proving him wrong? Then that is all your life will become. Nothing you can do will make him change.”

 

Shoto felt his limbs become heavy, his body going slack as the rage broke and his fury rushed away to leave exhaustion.

 

“You have a choice, Todoroki Shoto. That’s more than I got.”

 

And then, as the steam dissipated, revealing a massive circle of charred stone and melting ice, Midnight called the match.

 

“MIDORIYA IZUKU IS THE FIRST YEAR CHAMPION!!!”

 

Pinned under his blade, Todoroki Shoto could only close his eyes, exhausted.

 

---

Then

With a gasp, Izuku woke.

 

And then thrashed.

 

He was wrapped in the familiar and terrifying texture of the alien hive, his arms held spread eagle.

 

Gasping, he tried to fight down the panic—

 

There was an egg nearby.

 

More than one.

 

Three of them, clustered together.

 

Embedded in the other walls nearby, Izuku could see more limbs of other people, some of them with the terrifying mask of one of the facehuggers… and others with massive gaping wounds in their chest.

 

‘Focus. Get out. Get back to Torrens. Leave.’

 

With a grunt, he yanked and pulled— 

 

The tearing of skin being scraped against an edge was the first sign, before with a yank, his left arm, already damaged and burned, came free, large chunks of his burned skin and the ragged bandages that had covered them hanging loose, revealing weeping, bloody muscle underneath.

 

He didn’t care. He focused on the pain, letting it ground him.

 

His head was throbbing . Concussion? He wasn’t sure.

 

With one arm free, he could shift more, thow more leverage at the remaining restraints, and with a crack, the tendrils of the hive holding his right hand came free.

 

With desperate speed, and trying to be as quiet as possible, he snapped through the tendrils around his legs, and nearly collapsed when his weight overcame the last, letting him collapse to the floor as he realized that his ankle was broken.

 

‘Where am — There, that's the VIP tram line below me. I’m at the top of the spire, several floors above the comm room. I’m not that far — ’

 

Trying to stagger to his feet, he nearly tripped over the shredded remains of his bag. Medical supplies had been scattered, as well as all his general scrap and components to make more bombs or weapons; the bottles of alcohol in particular were soaking the bag, ruining even more.

 

But he saw it. The extra revolver he had stashed was there. Scrambling to grab it, he pushed himself up and started limping forwards.

 

He didn’t have time.

 

Who knows how long he’s been out of it. If Verlaine and Taylor were waiting... Or even still alive.

 

He pushed past that. He had a gun, he had a goal. 

 

Fuck injuries. Fuck Aliens. 

 

He was getting off of this fucking station.

 

The scrambling of a facehugger came his way and he snarled before nailing it with a bullet, sending it crashing back and leaking acid.

 

And anything that wanted to stop him was going to die.

 

---

Now

Miruko leaned back, whistling at the fight. Beside her, Edgeshot was just as stunned.

“That’s far beyond anything else he’s shown so far.” the ninja-like hero muttered.

 

“You mean the speed, the stealth, the way he abused the opponents quirk and the near-suicidal antics? ‘Cause fuck, whatever this kid is on is something else.”

 

“Yes. All of that.” Edgeshot gave a helpless chuckle. “You’re taking him on then?”

 

“I’ll at least make the offer. Who knows if the kid accepts.”

 

Edgeshot gave a nod and looked up, watching the replay of the steam covered field. “Better you than me.”

 

Miruko laughed, but kept her eyes on the screen.

 

‘Midoriya Izuku… What an interesting guy.’

 

---

Then

Izuku ducked, letting the tram scream past as he gritted his teeth, holding tight to the grate of the shallow pit he was in.

 

As it screeched past into the distance of the tunnel, he started moving again.

 

The elevator he had tried had fallen several floors. The entire station was just falling apart, and so he was now trying to cut through the infrastructure back towards communications.

 

As he dragged himself off the tram line into a side corridor, his gun snapped up, blowing another facehugger away where it had been camped on a wall. Things were everywhere. The Aliens were trying to rebuild a hive any way they could, and he had counted dozens of open eggs so far. He had to make every shot count.

 

With a grunt, he pulled through another hatch, and got ever closer to his destination.

 

---

Now

Iida Tenya all but crashed through the front doors of the hospital, rushing for the desk.

“My brother, Ingenium! Please, where is he?”

The startled clerk stuttered out a room and Tenya was already racing off even as she tried to tell him to sign in.

 

A minute later, he shoved through the door into the intensive care unit, only for his mother to wrap her arms around him.

 

“How— How is he!? How is Tensei!?”

 

His mother's choked sobs were the answer he got.

 

As she all but sunk to her knees, Iida’s heart broke. 

 

“He… He’ll live.” She choked out. “But the doctors... They don’t know how much they’ll be able to do. He’s… He’s hurt.”

 

Iida listened to his mother sob and clenched his eyes shut.

 

Even as tears ran down his own face.

 

---

Then

“Verlaine. Come on… Say something. Anything!” He tried the comm again, but it was no use. The entire console was fucked, sparking from where something had blown up. He kept getting… something. But it wasn’t clear. It could have been Verlaine though.

 

Fuck it. He has to get there.

 

Limping down the corridor, he pushed into the airlock room again. There, on the ground, was the helmet. With a glance at the vent above, he pulled it and the suit out of the case and started putting it on.

 

A minute later, with the suit wrapped around him and all the latches locked tight, he brought the helmet up.

 

And with a hiss, he was locked in.

 

‘Focus. It’s not far. Just need to go. Get there.’

 

With a yank on the lever, he entered the airlock proper.

 

As the boots of the suit locked to the ground with magnetic force, the air of the station vented out of the room.

 

And then, with the door ahead of him opening in what felt like silence, Izuku walked out into the void of space.

 

The Torrens was docked right where they said. Down the walkway and across the gantry. The home stretch.

 

Walking in the void was quiet. Only his own breathing and the crackle of his radio kept him company. There were no creaking vents or distant screams.

 

Just the silence of space.

 

It took almost a minute just to reach the gantry itself, each step taking forever as each heavy step attached to the station so he could take another.

 

As he reached it, however, the radio crackled.

 

“M-dr- that- u?”

 

“Verlaine, I’m here. Can you read me?”

“--kin- -p! Ca- -ee you?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there!”

 

“-ait! Th- -antry is -uck!”

 

The closer he got to the ship, the better the connection. 

 

“What? What about the gantry? What’s going on?”

 

“The gantry wo- open! We’re stu-”

 

“SHIT!”

 

He could see what she was talking about. The claw of the gantry that was holding onto the airlock was sparking! It must have been damaged… or sabotage. 

 

Fuck this goddamn station.

 

“What can I do?”

“Blow the- -gency bolts! Should blow ri-t through it!”

 

“Got it!”

 

He walked out on the gantry, and saw what she was talking about. There, just below the gantry claws, was a bright red panel labeled ‘EMERGENCY DISCONNECT’.

 

He got close, and knelt, hating how slow this was.

 

And paled.

 

‘Oh.’

 

The instructions were printed on the bottom of the panel.

 

With a deep breath, he started.

 

Each of the four cores was lifted, a button was pushed, and then they were lowered back in. Each motion took seconds at a time, izuku fighting his own nerves to be as careful as possible.

 

Because the emergency disconnect was a bomb.

 

“MIDORIYA, YOU HAVE GUESTS!”

 

He looked up from the last of the bombs sharply at the message. And his eyes went wide.

 

An Alien was on the gantry, stalking its way through crossbeams and infrastructure towards him.

 

And there were several others not far behind it.

He glanced down and pushed the core back in.

 

He didn’t have time to set a delay, or the aliens would be there. At the ship.

 

Reaching for the belt of the suit, he yanked a line out, and turned, hooking it on the part of the ship’s airlock.

 

By the time he turned back, the alien was almost here. 

 

He dove for the bomb and hit the controls, deleting two zeros from the 6 minute delay he had originally placed, and then slamming the detonator.

 

“VERLAINE, HIT IT!!”

 

And then— as the alien leapt for him—

 

A wave of force blew him back.

 

---

Now

Fingers traced through the condensation on the counter as a single red eye watched the final moments of the fight be replayed.

 

“Kurogiri… Help me get my bandages off,” he spoke, and reached up to begin picking at the cloth with his nails. “I’d rather not get dust in Sensei’s gift.”

 

“Of course.”

 

With gentle and confident touches, the bandages were removed.

 

Beneath it, angry red scars and black veins reached out from the damaged socket, the work of Sensei and the doctor to rebuild his orbital bones. His hair, from the edge of his temple back along the side of his head, was shaved away, revealing the long, ripped-up scar where the bullet had scored his skull. With a yank, the last of the bandage came free, revealing a much smaller medical patch over the eye socket itself, painted with a thick black material.

 

A quirk dampening material.

 

With careful motions, Kurogiri’s misty touch peeled it off, revealing a gleaming light that spread across the bar.

 

Poisonous green light filled the socket, while a gleaming red dot hovered in the center.

 

“How is it, Tomura? Can you see what Sensei said?”

 

Shigaraki stood, and looked around, the toxic colored light of his eye slowly fading as it dimmed.

 

With a narrowed look he held his hand up, and flexed it.

 

“Yeah. I can see it now.”

 

The way his skin flexed… and deeper. The pulse of blood moving. The way muscles contracted and shifted.

 

He could see beyond the surface.

 

Beyond the walls of the bar, shapes flickered and moved, unseen to his left eye he tracked the pulse of heartbeats through the street outside. The hum of electrical wires nestled inside bricks.

 

“This’ll make things much easier.”

 

He turned to look at the screen.

 

“Kurogiri. I do believe we need to recruit some new party members.”

 

“Oh?”

“Yes. Midoriya Izuku is a threat. But he’s also a prize to be taken. And I know it can be done. It’s happened once before.”

 

“Of course. At your will, shall I begin investigating for possible assets?”

 

Tomura gave a sinister grin.

 

“Would you kindly.”

---

Then

 

Izuku groaned, and blinked awake.

 

He was alone.

 

The station was…

 

Distant.

 

The three towers of Sevastopol were hanging there, outlined against the bright orange of the planet.

 

It was almost peaceful.

 

‘Did… Did I fail?’

 

He watched. Waiting. Wondering if he would be stuck here, waiting for his suit’s life support to fail so he could reset the simulation again.

 

Izuku sat, and waited. He had time.

 

….

 

He listened to music for a bit, just waiting. 

 

...

 

Then something caught his eye.

 

A different shape.

 

The Anesidora.

 

It moved slowly, almost lazily drifting towards the station.

 

He watched with focused eyes.

 

...

 

Five minutes. 

 

...

 

Ten.

 

...

 

Twenty.

 

Each second the ship grew closer.

 

And then—

 

Boom.

 

The suit’s glass polarized automatically, but for a second Izuku winced at the blinding light of the ship exploding…

 

And taking half of Sevastopol with it. The Habitation tower was all but destroyed… and the rest of the station was sent… falling.

 

Izuku sat there, waiting in space for several more hours.

 

The station was slow, falling out of orbit. It took a while.

 

But it did fall. Burning up in the storms of the gas giant below it.

 

He waited until it was gone. Nothing but a field of scrap and burning wreckage hanging above the planet.

 

And then—

 

Simulation: ALIEN has been completed

 

The void of space… faded away.

Chapter 42: Livestreamed

Summary:

The Fans have stories to tell... and advice to give.

 

SORRY FOR THE WAIT! Got a new job for the season and my writing schedule is kind of fucked.

---

Now

The sun peeked through her window, backlighting her office as she tapped away at the keyboard. Pale blue fingers tapped word after word, as Kizuki Chitose worked. 

 

Above her, the screens of her office showed clips of the UA Sports festival.

 

Clips of him. A hero stained in blood so thick and so deep that it’s stained his soul.

 

She paused and read back the last few paragraphs, voice soft as she considered the tone of her writing.

 

“Earlier this afternoon, the world watched in awe as the first year matches of the UA Sports Festival came to a dramatic close. When the dust cleared, the winner was revealed.

 

Midoriya Izuku, First year Heroics Student from class 1-A, had held his own across the entire tournament. With a sword at his side, dulled for safety, and a fighting style that seemed to sing with power and brutal efficiency, he took on all comers. But who is Midoriya? How could a teenager with a sword match up to the rivals he faced, ranging from an awe-inspiring gravity quirk, to the sheer overwhelming force of Todoroki Shoto, the son of Endeavor?

 

And how could he do it Quirkless?

 

Yes, you read that right! Midoriya is quirkless, one of the 20% of the population that is born without an innate power! When I learned this, readers, I was awestruck… and dreadfully curious. After all, there was something… Familiar about this young man. As you may expect, I’ve spent several hours digging,” she sipped her water, hiding a grin as she considered that she had already been researching the teen. Setting the glass down, she resumed where she left off. “And readers, I have found a stunning history for this young man.

 

Long time readers may remember an editorial from almost a year ago, regarding the arrest of a madman known as Sugoh Akihiko…”

 

She typed for over an hour, neatly trimmed nails clacking on the keys as she sketched a story for her audience. A young innocent, corrupted by a madman's desires into something… dangerous.

 

And then, she began to twist the perception.

 

How fair was it, that this teen trained to kill was pitted against soon to be Heroes? Why would UA accept a teen who was designed to be a villain into its hallowed halls? His brutality was on display, his sheer vicious style clear for all to see.

 

As she finished up, she paused, and checked her phone.

 

The usual array of messages greeted her, updates from her publishers, notes from her interns and research department.

 

And one from Yotsubashi Rikiya.

 

Your current pet project is very interesting. Research said that he was moving and acting with strength beyond that of a normal human. You should look into exactly what happened to his body in that simulation. It may be something to invest into.

 

The reporter blinked before she leaned back, fingers reaching to pluck a paperclip from the desk as she began to slowly unroll it, twisting it between her fingers as she considered the new information.

 

‘Beyond… human…’

 

As her thoughts began to drift, and wander, she twirled the now straight piece of wire between her fingers.

 

‘Sugoh got closer to making a monster than I thought… I wonder just how close?’

 

With a flick, she sent the wire across the room, where it landed in the open steel box of her trash can.

 

And with a thought, she blew it up, the explosion trapped in the bin even as she leaned forwards and got back to work. And started pulling up her files on Midoriya.

 

‘I thought most of the games were exaggerated… but if he’s truly able to move and fight the way he was at the end…’

 

She shuddered at the thought, remembering the feeling of his killing intent. And the way it made her squirm with anticipation. 

 

‘Exquisite.’

 

---

Then

Izuku sat up in his bed slowly, hand running through his hair as he bit his lip.

 

‘Almost halfway there… ‘

 

He choked down a desperate laugh. He almost couldn’t believe that he made it… there had been so many close calls. He had been injured so badly...  he was still in something like shock.

 

The ache of missing wounds soon broke Izuku from his ruminations, and he winced at the way his left hand was… twitching. The touches of his pinky and ring finger felt like he was suffering from pins and needles. Most of the other wounds had already faded, his body adapting back to its current state, though the places where wounds had gone deep enough were… sensitive.

 

Rolling to his feet, Izuku snagged a fresh pair of loose slacks and a t-shirt from the closet, tossing them on the bed before heading for the shower. The water was almost hot enough to scald, but the heat washed away the lingering aches and let him unwind.

 

‘What’s next… “

 

He felt the surge of anxiety, the pulse of fear in his blood. Each game had only gotten worse, but what would be next? And what about the later games? Even now he had blood, fake as it may be, on his hands. As much as he had tried to keep from fighting humans… he hadn’t always succeeded. And that’s not counting Waylon… or Henry.

 

Clenching his hands on the tile, he blinked at the realization that his hair was hanging into his vision.

 

Huh. I thought my hair was shorter.

 

As his hand came up, he noticed something else. 

 

His arm was… muscled?

 

Not a lot. But enough to notice. 

 

‘What is going on?’

 

He was frozen, mind… tripping over the same words.

 

‘My body is changing.’

 

The tight grip of fear in his chest squeezed.

 

He took a deep slow breath, and slowly unclenched his hands.

 

‘I… I can’t focus on that. Not right now.’

 

He stepped out from under the stream of water, turning the spray off as he reached out and grabbed a towel.

 

He avoided the mirror, and simply rubbed himself down with the towel until he was dry and his hair hung in damp curls. Tossing the towel aside, he went back to the bedroom, pulling the shirt and pants on with tense fingers.

 

By the time he padded, barefooted, out into the rest of the facility, he had almost managed to convince himself that everything was fine.

 

He was lying, but it was necessary.

 

He couldn’t break. Not now.

 

---

Now

Iida Tenya sat alone in the hallway. His mother was sleeping at Tensei’s side, exhausted. His father had come by several times, staying for a moment before rushing out to deal with another fire, another question, his phone ringing as he tried to keep Team Idaten aware of the situation.

 

Tenya had several texts.

 

He didn’t answer any of them.

 

Instead he sat, arms braced across his knees and back arched as he stared at the floor in front of him.

 

In his head… the facts lingered.

 

The physical injuries that Tensei suffered were immense. His arms had been dislocated, and…. Skinned. The vents where his engines were placed had been torn apart, muscles shredded in a lattice of cuts that had all but flayed him to the bones, digging deeper to get to the more delicate mechanical structures beneath the vents.

 

Even if he recovered, if he managed to regrow his engines once more… the damage would leave a mark. Would weaken him. Slow him.

 

Stain’s damage would linger for the rest of his brother's life.

 

Idaten would default to his dad’s control for a while, meaning he would take over as the gearshift hero ‘Impulse’ and would help to run the company until Tensei recovered…

 

Or until Tenya came of age and graduated UA.

 

He breathed deep and reached up, rubbing at his eyes with a shuddering exhale.

 

It was too much. The sports festival had been a series of emotional and physical blows, and had left him already drained by the time he was knocked out.

 

But this?

 

He just… couldn’t.

 

Couldn’t think about the next step to do. Couldn’t think about Tensei, sitting there with bandages and tubes and needles. Couldn’t even bring himself to check the final match of the festival.

 

All he could hear past the ringing in his ears, was the layered words from earlier. Doctors and nurses and his mother and father talking about Tensei.

 

He reached up and squeezed, teeth gritted as he tried to muffle the scream that he wanted to let loose.

 

What do I Do!?

 

As if in response… he heard Midoriya’s voice, echoing that same line from the battle trial. The way his masked gaze had cut through him. The way he had stood in a trap and questioned .

 

‘So, Hero. What’s your play?’

 

And Iida didn’t know.

 

He just didn’t know,

 

---

Then

Izuku stared up at the screen, mind simply blanking as he tried to understand… tried to process.

 

The windows behind the computer in his loading room had changed to… a monitor.

 

A chat window.

 

And even now, words were flying past faster than he could really comprehend or focus, occasionally one would turn bright blue, and linger near the top.

 

Hey! That’s us!

Pog!

POG!

Shit, this looks bad.

Wait, he can read chat now?

 

They were… watching him.

 

They had been watching him.

 

Akihiko’s words came rushing back. His mentions of ‘Showing the world.’

 

At the time Izuku hadn’t been able to really put that into the right frame of reference.

 

But now…

 

He stumbled and collapsed into the chair, trying to control his breathing.

 

Oh shit

Mayday mayday

What a bitch move.

 

The words sped up, rushing past the screen of the windows faster and faster.

 

In the corner, his eyes locked on a number that was slowly ticking up.

 

17,032 viewers

 

---

Now

Leather jacket and a black beanie hiding his most memorable features, Izuku walked through the streets towards his home from the train station. He knew that he was fairly plain looking in a world of quirks. Without the distinctive sight of his sword along his hip, Blight-Killer left at home and the ruined training sword left at the school due to the warping from the fights, he was far less obvious. And that was before he focused and pulled his normal weight of focus inwards, his intent leashed and bound tight.

 

The gold plated medal was tucked under his shirt and pressed over his heart, his fingers reaching up to trace its weight, while the other hand ran across the cool metal of a balisong in his pocket.

 

The ceremony had been simple… but Todoroki had been sullen and closed off, Bakugou quiet and contemplative.

 

The only other award winner who seemed to be proud to be on the stand had been Momo, who accepted bronze with grace. He had been somewhat proud of his victory, but was more focused on keeping his calm.

 

The eyes of the crowd had rarely felt so heavy.

 

‘Anonymity is no longer a shield. My name is known and my face recognized, and both are now publicly linked.’

 

Sliding his fingers from the metal, he drew his earbuds from the depths of his jacket and slid them on before pulling his phone out, slowing at the corner of his block, his eyes picking out the quiet of the street. But he felt the tension along his spine — Almost as if he was being watched, but with his mind unsteady from the events of the days fighting, he couldn't be sure.

 

‘I need to unwind.’

 

With the cool press of his thumb on the screen he sent a text to his mom letting him know he would be a bit later, and kept walking forwards past his street. With deft touches he scrolled through to his music.

 

As he walked, he let his fingers tap a genre, and slow piano and acoustic guitar filled his mind as he slid the phone away. As the music played, he let it drown out the ghosts in his mind.

 

Let it wash through him as the last of the adrenaline in his body was purged.

 

Let his tension flow out… and serenity come back.

 

By the time the first several songs were over, he was back from the edge, rolling his shoulder gently at the tinge of pain.

 

He frowned at the stiffness of his body. Recovery Girl had insisted on using her quirk when a scan revealed micro-fractures across his right arm, remnants of using the sword and pushing his muscles to the limit. It wasn’t likely to cause an immediate problem, but she had been… adamant about treating it. 

 

And now his entire body felt like it was in the final stages of healing, his bruises and scrapes healed up, the burns all but gone, and his muscles sore. It left him feeling tense.

 

As he moved through the streets, the sky slowly darkened, the last traces of sunlight gleaming off the highest points of the buildings before fading, leaving him in streets only lit by the neon of business signs and the bright light of the street lamps.

 

As he reached the edge of a park, he dug into his jacket, before pulling the crumpled pack of cigarettes that Ms. Joke had bought when they met up at Dagobah. A few minutes of walking, and Izuku slowed to rest against a short railing, a bridge overlooking the stream through the park. Shifting, he smoothly vaulted up, taking a seat on the railing above the shallow stream and looking off into the dark wooded area. Taking a breath, he flipped the carton open and bit on a cig, pulling it free with a practiced motion before stashing the box as he pulled a lighter.

 

With careful movements, he let the flame light the cigarette, before sliding the lighter away and settling in on the railing, the ember past his lips the only real point of light in the dark of the woods.

 

‘I haven’t been here for years. Not since me and Kacchan were… eight? Nine?’   Izuku looked down at the stream below, even as he slowly puffed out a stream of smoke. ' We used to come here all the time. Or… he did, anyway. I just tagged along.’

 

Izuku let the numbing rush of nicotine leech through him as he stared out silently.

 

‘It’s been a long time since I had anything close to peace… And with the press out there, it’s only going to be longer before I can enjoy it. Something is coming… faster and faster. Sugoh is free-’ the mere thought made him want to clench his fists ‘-and Shigaraki is going to come back for revenge. He promised ruin, and I know better then to ignore that.’

 

Taking a slow pull on the cigarette, he slowly blew out a ring of shimmering smoke, letting it swirl, before he blew at it and ripped it apart.

 

A phrase came to his mind, and he almost chuckled, before whispering

 

“ We All Make Choices, But In The End Our Choices Make Us.” 

 

For all the shit he did wrong… Andrew Ryan did have some words of wisdom.

 

With a sigh, Izuku pulled his cigarette from his lips and ground it out on the railing next to him, before smoothly twisting to land back on the bridge.

 

He walked calmly back towards the city.

 

And felt the pair of eyes on his back follow his every move.

 

‘My choice is to be a hero. It has to be.' 

---

Then

Izuku slouched in his chair, chest heaving as he read the chat.

 

“This entire time… this ENTIRE FUCKING TIME.” The words were hissed, his hands clawing at his head and digging into the skin of his fists. “I’m going to fucking Kill Sugoh.” He swore, shoving up and striding across the room pacing as he flexed his hands and made threatening gestures before he spun on his heel and stopped, staring at the chat.

“What is the set up? How does the chat work? Are there mods? None of you have names that I can see.”

 

At that the messages sped up for a moment, before several turned blue.

 

POG!
Chat is based on post popularity and most common keywords.
There are Mods! 

 

Then there was a bright gold message. Two of them in quick succession.

Argo: This is Argo, I’m one of the members of the I-Island research group that Sugoh stole his tech from. I’m also the main Mod for the stream along with...

Kiri: Me. I’m the guy who built the supercomputer you’re locked in. Names Kazuya. 

 

Izuku stared… and when the chat started picking up pace again, he took a deep shuddering breath.

 

“You can’t get me out, can you? You would have by now.” Izuku muttered, eyes closed as pushed his rage and fear down, choking on it. “If you could get me out, you would have… And it wouldn’t have been what… two months? Three?”

 

Suddenly he realized he had lost track of time.

 

Glancing up, he looked… really looked at the counter above the chat.

 

The death tracker.

 

Day: 133
Hour: 10:12:32
Deaths: 194

He nearly froze…

 

Four months? He had been here for four months?

 

It- what? He entered back in early April, and it had to be September.

“I missed summer break.”

 

The words were faint as he slumped back into the chair, looking up with almost unseeing eyes.

 

He ignored the surge of blue messages, only glancing back at the chat when a gold appeared.

 

Kiri: So? Are you going to give up? The longer you sit around the more chance the system has to fail. It doesn’t matter how well made the computer is, if it runs long enough something has to give. Izuku. You’re on a timer. By my calculations, you have 7 more months before the system starts to over tax itself and can’t maintain Sugoh’s simulation. You have to hold it together.

Argo: KAZ!? WHAT THE FUCK? DON’T TELL HIM THAT?

Kiri: He needs to know, Argo.

Kiri: I’m not going to tell him everythings fine. This entire goddamn experiment Sugoh is running is sick, twisted, and fucked.

 

Izuku glanced at the next message, clearly Argo ranting, and looked away.

 

‘Timer…’ the word was ringing in his skull. And he was afraid.

 

“I don’t have time to waste.” he whispered, and stood slowly from his seat. “Sugoh said… that all the simulations were based on games, right?” he didn’t look at the chat. Didn’t even consider them, mind racing through twisting logic. “Which means… there’s source materials out there. Guides. Tricks. Maps.” Izuku began to walk towards the podium.

“But to get it… I need to know.”

 

He glanced back, to see the chat going rapidly, several blue messages popping up then fading.

 

GAME 5! WOOO
Into the breach!
PLUS ULTRA!
GO BEYOND!
GAME TIME!

He glanced back, and with a practiced motion lifted himself up on the podium, and lay down.

 

As the screen wrapped around his face, a single word appeared, etched out of neon lights over a mechanical looking ring, lasers reflecting around its circumference. 

 

PREY

 

‘Huh. I have… no clue what this is.’

 

And with that thought, he spoke the word… and the world vanished around him as the familiar sensation of falling overcame him.

 

---

Now

The clack of keys across a keyboard was matched by the manic grin on Sugoh’s face.

 

‘That last fight was beautiful! Finally, Subject 9 has begun to exhibit higher levels of development!’

 

Sugoh was adjusting values and tweaking his programs. 

 

Fighting style, demonstrated strength, speed, intelligence, combat doctrine… all it and more, as close as he could get. As the system compiled them, another screen showed a humanoid figure etched in wire frames.

 

‘Subject 9 Simulation (False)’

 

As the information was input, it shifted, slowly becoming more detailed with each tweak… before, with a final click, the input screens vanished, leaving only a loosely defined humanoid with a sword sitting in another window.

 

“Ah… It’s not perfect. Not yet. But still… seeing his potential, just the merest glimmer of my success reflected upon his form… Euphoric.”

 

With a grin, he began to open up a new program. 

 

“But this is merely a tool.”

 

With deft clicks he opened three new windows.

 

Simulation: Alpha.
Simulation: Beta.
Simulation:  Delta

 

With a series of commands, the massive banks of computers behind his console began to light up, lights flashing and fans whirring as they began to process massive amounts of data.

 

“Children… it’s time to play.” With a maniacal laugh, he ran his new simulation.

 

On his screen… a blank white roomed space began to render the floor simulated concrete.

 

And standing there, slowly being created line by line, was a blank faced green haired teen with a sword.

 

“Now… Let's teach my dear Hunter-Killers how to deal with their oldest brother... ”

 

As the sounds of screeching and roars of fury began to echo from the computers speakers…

 

Akihiko Sugoh could only smile, leaning back as he watched his pets learn.

 

---

Then

Izuku blinked awake….

 

He was in a bed?

 

“Good Morning Izuku. Today is September 13th, 2032.”

 

Slowly he sat up, hearing soft music playing before he slowly reached out and tapped off the alarm clock.

 

His eyes roved around the room with confusion. This wasn’t… The usual. There was… sunlight. An apartment, with wide windows looking out over a city.

 

A buzzing caught his attention and he looked over to see a slender phone-like thing on the side table next to the alarm clock, all clear plexiglass and white metal around an exposed circuit design.

 

Picking it up he glanced over it, before finding a button and pressing it. Suddenly, a voice rang out.

 

“Hey, Midoriya. Wake up! You’re burning daylight. I sent a helicopter to pick you up. It’s just a few tests before we get to your onboarding process. And don’t forget to wear your suit!” Izuku opened his mouth to respond, mind still stuck staring out at the cityscape, even as a helicopter moved past not far from the building, angling up. “Oh, and listen. It’s really great that you decided to come on board. You’re just the kind of person we need to shake things up.”

 

As the call ended, Izuku slowly rose from the bed, padding barefooted across the floor as he looked out at the city.

 

‘Sunlight… I haven’t seen it in months… I know it’s fake but…’ He reached out, planning to open the door onto the balcony before pausing.

 

‘Jammed? Huh.’

 

He set his hand on the glass, feeling the warmth of the light before sighing.

 

Turning back he looked around, before his eyes lingered on a red and black suit…

 

‘Oooh. This looks interesting.’

 

It only took about ten minutes to work it on, feeling the red material tighten and adhere to his physique with a slight hiss.

 

He raised an eyebrow when he realized it was sized for him. A teenager. Not an adult.

 

Glancing back around the room, Izuku narrowed his eyes at a computer console in the corner, surrounded by what looked almost like a workshop. 

 

‘Loot and information… let's see what we’re working with.’

---

Now

Izuku walked in a meandering path towards his house, humming to himself with silent earbuds screwed in.

 

He took care to keep his focus loose, to let his eyes wander and his attention dissipate around him. If he looked for his tracker then it would either scare them off or provoke an attack…

 

And he wanted to know who the fuck was looking at him.

 

He was fucking tired, goddamn it. He just fought a goddamn tournament and his body was stiff and sore. He had a balisong, three combat knives, two switchblades, and a pair of brass knuckles tucked away in his outfit, and he was not in the goddamn mood.

 

With a soft hum he shifted down a side street. Narrow and cramped as it was, the lights were far apart and the sea of darkness between them was surrounded by nothing but empty storefronts.

 

Slowing, he paused at an intersection, and tilted his head up, blowing out a slow breath into the cool night air.

 

“Are you just gonna stand around and watch me, or are you going to do something?”

 

The night was silent… and Izuku slowly narrowed his eyes, before rolling them and scoffing.

 

He took another step forward, eyes falling to look down the street-

 

And then, from between two buildings to the side, there was a flash of movement, and he twisted, fingers spinning metal open and gripping tight split seconds before the silence was broken with a clang of steel on steel. Izuku was locked blade to blade, his balisong held tightly as it ground against another knife, something that looked almost like a tanto.

 

Green eyes met yellow.

 

“I FOUND YOU!”

 

A fanged grin and ash-blonde hair in the night was the only thing he could see, before he was suddenly in a knife fight for his life, blade meeting another jab and redirection before he swerved under a slash.

 

“Would you bleed for me?”

 

As metal clashed, Izuku had only one thought before he was stuck running on instinct.

 

‘God. Fuck today.’

Chapter 43: Stamina Management

Summary:

Happy holidays to everyone out in the world. Stay safe and I hope you have a happy season.

Works settling down, so my update speed might start resuming it's usual speed, but no promises for now.

The clash of blades rang out— one two three-four —as Izuku stepped back, knife meeting knife as the attacker stepped into the neon half-light of the street itself. With his other hand, he reached to the small of his back, hidden under the jacket, and pulled a second knife. A shift of his steps let him duck a lightning-fast snap kick, before lashing up, the curved tip of the combat knife tracing a slender red line along black knee-socks before the leg pivoted back.

 

Blonde buns, and a tan and blue school uniform. 

 

Sharp fangs glinted as she skipped backwards, fingertips reaching down to trace the red line along her calve up to her knee.

 

“Out of curiosity,” Izuku slowly rose up, adjusting his grip so that his straight and razor sharp balisong was held out and the short curve of his combat knife was held in a reverse grip to the side, “Is there a reason you want my blood?”

 

Manic golden eyes with cat-like slitted pupils locked on to dark green as she sucked at the red fingers. “Because I love seeing you bloody! That glistening red… the deep cuts tracing across your pale skin… It’s just beautiful!” 

 

‘Well. That's mildly goddamn terrifying.’ was the only thought that passed through Izuku’s mind before he was suddenly deflecting knife strikes again. It wasn’t quite ‘Oh god the Alien/Slender/choose your fucking monster of the hour is on my ass and closing’, but it was a unsettling and personal kind of discomfort. 

 

He didn’t like it.

 

And beyond that, he was fucking tired . He could feel it in the strain of his arms as he deflected strikes, in the way he had to shift his stance to give more support to his right arm, to set his balance lower.

 

He wasn’t operating at his best. Hell, he was maybe operating at half his day to day ability. And that wasn’t even taking into account how drained his stamina was.

 

That is what he missed most about the simulation. He didn’t have to worry about food and nutrition. Fueling the bullshit his body could normally do was difficult.

 

With a grimace he felt his arm flex, muscles giving under a bad angle, pain racing up his shoulder as he gave a step back, right arm pinned blade to blade, before a kick came up, brushing right past his jaw, forcing him back another step.

 

‘Right, fuck this.’

 

Tensing as he let his heart rate surge and his body wake up, a surge of adrenaline rushed through his body and sent his muscles twitching. Izuku pushed past the pain, and he darted forwards, into an attack.

 

The balisong swayed back as he twisted past the next slash, before he lashed out, hooking the blunt edge of his combat knife around her wrist, yanking her forwards, off balance, and into his personal space.

 

In that moment, he could see the perfect line, to drive the point of the balisong forwards like a spear straight through her eye, twisting to make sur-

 

‘Don’t. Kill .’

 

With a last second twist of his wrist, he slammed his fist, fingers wrapped white-knuckled around the hilt of the balisong, right into her nose.

 

A splatter of blood sent her staggering—

 

And a line of fire cut across his hip.

 

‘Son of a Bitch!’

 

Izuku lunged backwards, reaching down as he pressed his fingers to his side. She had dragged the tip of her tanto against him when she was knocked back. Not far enough to dig into the muscle, but she had cut through the denim of his jeans and left a ragged edged mark into his skin.

 

Even as the blood seeping from his thigh began to slowly darken, he focused on the manic giggles as the blonde looked up.

 

“Beautiful!~ Such pretty, pretty blood!” She lifted the red marked tanto and Izuku watched the way her cat-like pupils expanded from slits. With blood splattering her lips and her nose squished, she looked… unhinged.

 

‘Addicted… Or perhaps obsessed.’

 

As she licked her bloodied lips, there was a flash of disappointment.

 

“Awwwhhh, I won’t get to taste it.”

 

Yeah, that just screams ‘Stranger Danger,’ so how about no?

 

Izuku lunged forwards, knives low as he aimed for her knees.

 

But just as he got close, she seemed to skip.

 

The way he skips.

 

Legs like jackhammers as she fired from dead stop to full motion in two kicks, skipping and bouncing back with a casual grace, bloody grin wide and gleaming in the half light.

 

“See you later, Gamer-kun! We’ll play again another day!”

And then she was bounding through the alley, skipping from side to side with blinding speed into the darkness.

 

Izuku spun the combat knife around on instinct, catching it around the blade between his left thumb and index finger, before he twisted. His arm whipped forwards with a snapping sound, the blade flashing into the dark of the alley—

 

The shout of pain from down the alleyway was sharp, but the laughter that faded away revealed the truth.

 

She wasn’t stopped.

 

And Izuku wasn’t in a position to chase her. Not with a wounded thigh, low stamina, and no ranged weapons.

 

With a curse, he settled back, hand pressing the dark scab still forming under his jeans, the still forming seal cracking with bright red beads as he shifted his weight.

 

He didn’t even know who the fuck that was.

 

---

Then

Izuku glanced up from the computer console. The level of technology was… far and above what he had grown used to in Sevastopol. Not the analog of old CRT monitors and lines of green code, this computer was sleek glass and bright, easy to read colors. Ergonomic design that had been ignored on Sevastopol, matching with the gleaming metal of the desk and the far more complex tech that sat on his counters. Programmable circuit boards and wireless transmitters lay next to capacitors and motion sensors. 

 

Almost on reflex, after Izuku scrolls through the latest messages, reading the notes about his ‘new job’ and the delivery the night before, he begins stashing the components away. The suit turns out to have an integrated backpack component, sleek and easy to access in his lower back, as well as belt pouches and cargo pockets, and most of the components are small enough that they tuck away without much issue. Space will be an issue, but he knows how to rig up straps and spare pouches if he needs too.

 

He glanced over the last of the emails.

Subject: Delivery

Hey, I sent a package with everything you'll need for your first day. Uniform, TranScribe, and a Neuromod. Install the Neuromod right away, as we'll be running some tests first thing in the morning. Just follow the instructions. I'll be in touch.

Alex

 

He had found an empty purple container in the trash, attached to what looked almost like a needle gun of some variety.

 

Izuku glanced around once more at all the books around, and frowned. He had copied them all to his ‘Library’ when he had picked them up, apparently a function of the training abilities back in the simulation room. Regardless, he quickly finished a final glance around the room, taking one lingering glance at the warm light of the sun peeking through the window, before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

 

The short hallway had only two other doors, one centered across from him and the other further down the hall. That same direction, the faint blue glow of a fish tank illuminated the end of the corridor, while in the other, a pair of legs dressed in blue denim lay stretched out from a maintenance panel. The end of the hall also had a turn to the left. With a glance around, Izuku takes a breath.

 

‘ Breath. Focus. I belong here. Nothing is wrong. Not yet.’

 

Centering himself, he washed the emotion from his face, and started walking, still stretching slightly to let his suit adjust, as he got closer to the end of the hall, however, the woman working maintenance saw him, looking out from the panel with a wave of a wrench.

 

“Morning Mister Midoriya. Heard the helicopter on the roof is for you.”

 

Keep calm. Relax. “Seems like it. Have a nice day.”

 

“You too Mister Midoriya!” With a grunt she pulled herself back into the panel, even as Izuku kept walking, hands clenching in his gloves with faint shifting sounds.

 

Around the corner, the elevator in front of him, he still couldn’t stop the thoughts.

 

‘What is the trick? Where’s the screw up that’s going to happen?’

 

It was a matter of only a few seconds before the elevator arrived.

 

Stepping inside, he blinked at the screen as the roof option appeared next to the option for his current floor.

Tapping the touch screen, he selected the roof and the elevator rumbled slightly as it rose.

 

‘Feels weirdly smooth compared to the Sevastopol elevator.’

 

It took only a few seconds before he stepped out onto a roof, the faint breeze pushing past him as he looked over the city…

 

In the distance, rising against the sun and the sparkle of the sea, a gleaming red bridge stretched out.

 

It took a few seconds to identify, but it seemed familiar.

 

‘The Golden Gate Bridge? Is this San Francisco?’

 

With a slow breath he tore his sight away, and focused on the more immediate area.

 

And the helicopter waiting for him. 

---

 

Now

Inko looked up at the sound of the door opening, looking away from her laptop as she saw the dark green and black leather of her son at the door, locking it as he tapped at the security panel near the entry.

“ Tadaima. ”

“ Okaerinasai. ” As the traditional greeting rang out, she made sure to pause the video she was watching. “How was your walk?”

Izuku shrugged as he glanced at where she sat in the kitchen. “It was… interesting. Visited some places I haven't been for a while. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

 

“I’m glad. There’s food on the stove, just reheat it when you’re hungry!” She called out, watching him pace down the hall.

 

As she watched him vanish from sight, she frowned. He seemed… distracted.

 

Looking back down at her laptop, she looked at the video, a new story about the sports festival.

 

It wasn’t… good. 

 

With a sigh, she tabbed to the email she had been staring at for several hours now. That she had been worrying over.

 

From: [email protected]
Subject: Invitation to I-Island for physical check-up and apologies.

 

With a bite of her lip as she considered it, she looked once more at the video, frozen on some brash know-it-all reporter. Behind him, a screen was showing a picture of Izuku facing Uraraka, eyes narrowed and sword swinging, Uraraka’s face frozen in what some would call surprise or maybe fear… But Inko had watched that fight. She knew Uraraka had been excited .

 

But she had been listening to the reporter. He was aggressive. Polarizing. They wanted to make her son into a threat, a danger to ‘Traditional Values’. 

 

She wished she could yank the moron out of them with her quirk, but she expected it was too big for her to get a grip on.

 

‘My son goes through hell, and they think he’s gone villain? When he made an effort to save any NPC he came across, to stand up to and help anything that asked…?’

 

She took a breath and closed the video. With Izuku home, she didn’t want him to hear it. She had learned that he could hear nearly anything in the apartment and that, unless he put on music, he could even hear the neighbors. 

 

That had been… interesting to learn?

 

(“I really hope that the couple in 313 can keep from going at it tonight,” a tired looking Izuku muttered as he ate an apple, eyes half closed. “Both of them tend to cry out really loud.”

 

Inko nearly dropped her coffee as the words processed.

 

Izuku just took a long sip of a smoothie, eyes deadpan, but with a glint of humor.)

 

Soon after she had bought him a speaker to play soft noises at night and help drown other noises out.

 

Looking back at the e-mail, she decided to message this… Kirito back.  She would leave it up to Izuku, but she wanted to know more about what they wanted him on I-Island for, first. 

 

As the sound of the shower started up, and she started typing, she never noticed the gleam of a drop of blood left on the floor near the door, even as it slowly darkened.

 

In the morning, It would be gone, Izuku having wiped it away before he left for class.

 

Then

“Mr. Midoriya! Please make yourself comfortable and we’ll be on our way. Transtar is just a short hop. It’s 78 degrees, and we have clear skies all the way.”

 

Following the pilot's advice, Izuku leaned on the arm of his seat in the back of the helicopter, gaze all but locked out the window as he let the warm light stream over him. It was beautiful.

 

“It’s a nice view out on the bay there.”

 

Izuku couldn’t help but agree, basking in sunlight for the first time in months.  “It really is.”

 

Izuku watched as they flew past skyscrapers, before rising in an arc around the city and then tilting back in… And there it was. A massive skyscraper with an embellished ‘T’ shaped design surrounded by rings across the front. The same T-shape on the suit he was wearing.

 

‘ Transtar Industries… I get the feeling you’re going to be the source of all my problems, this game.’

 

With a slow rise, the helicopter came around and settled on the roof helipad.

 

“Here we are Mr. Midoriya.”

 

With a slight bump, the helicopter landed and Izuku rose from his seat, eyes looking out the windows.

 

“Watch the glass on your way out. Good luck to you.”

 

“Thanks. Have a nice day yourself.” 

 

With that, Izuku stepped off the helicopter, and onto the roof of Transtar.

 

Taking a last glance around, he flexed his hands and strode across the white of the landing pad, down several steps to the roof itself, and towards the door into the building.

 

Opening the door, he slowed as a floating… box turned his way.

 

“Hello Mr. Midoriya, welcome to Transtar! I am a Sybil-495 Science class operator. It won’t be long before you’re on a shuttle bound for Talos 1. Our research often requires intense focus and long hours. I can provide you with a psychoactive stimulant after the test, if necessary. Everyone is very eager to see what you can do, Mr. Midoriya. I know I am.” The voice was feminine, but carried that emotionless tone that Izuku associated with computer assistants on his phone.

 

“Thank you.” Izuku glanced around the small roof access room, eyes never quite leaving the operator. “What do operators like you do in Transtar?”

 

“Operators perform a variety of menial tasks, but my instruments are calibrated for high volume data analysis and live readings. Don’t worry. Nothing will be missed.”

 

“Good to hear. I’ll see you after my test, I suppose.”

 

"Have a nice day.”

 

As Izuku stepped into the elevator, he glanced at the display near the science operator.

 

‘THE LAST FRONTIER IS THE HUMAN MIND, AND WE ARE IT’S PIONEERS.’
-WILLIAM YU.

 

As the doors closed and Izuku selected his floor from the computer screen to the side, he flexed his fingers.

 

‘Something here is… off. But what? A mysterious corporation and some kind of testing. What is Talos 1? A remote testing lab? And what about that quote… ‘The Last Frontier is the Human Mind’...’ Izuku bit back a flinch as it rang a little too close to the documents he had found in the Mount Massive Asylum.

 

As the elevator shook slightly, the numbers on the panel counting down to floor 71, Izuku took a breath and let out a slow exhale, shoving his worries aside as he shifted into the character he was given.

 

“Play it out. Focus. Learn.” 

 

He whispered the plan to himself. 

 

And then the elevator doors opened, and he had no more time to worry.

 

‘Showtime.’

 

---

Now

Koji stifled a yawn as he walked through the gently-lit paths around U.A., hands holding the handles of a covered wheelbarrow as he pushed it along. Koji was casually dressed, wearing a pair of old denim jeans and a thick green and white flannel jacket over his large frame. Under the flannel, a black shirt with the ‘recycle’ triangle in white peeked through. As he listened for the distant murmuring of birds and squirrels as they enjoyed the morning, he headed for the large groves of trees that separated the main campus from the various training grounds and simulated cities. The one he was heading for was actually close to the sandy area where he and Izuku first trained with Momo and Kyouka. 

 

It was early, the sun was just cresting the edge of the world and shining light across the leaves around him, but Koji was somewhat at peace. After the sports festival on Thursday, U.A. had officially closed for the following three days. Officially, this was for general maintenance and clean-up after having so many people on the school grounds, but it was also to give the Heroics Community in general a chance to review the footage and recordings of students. 

 

Thankfully, Koji had planned ahead. Present Mic-sensei had been more than willing to grant him and his friend permission to visit on the first day off to ‘Settle Quirk Obligations,’ as the paperwork said.

 

By the time Koji turned the last major hill, heading for the forest, he could see a dark form near the path where it entered the grove.

 

And as he got closer, he could make it out to be Izuku. 

 

The green haired teen, with his eyes closed and looking nearly asleep, was resting against the trunk of a large tree just to the side of the path, sunlight drifting over his form and leaving him looking peaceful. The leather jacket the teen wore was bunched up around his neck, the fur neatly hiding his jaw and cheeks from view, while unbound green hair spread out around his head, a few long strands draped loosely over his shoulders as the play of dappled sunlight gleamed off the green highlights in Izuku’s loose hair. Looking closer, Koji also noticed that Seras, the garden snake, was nestled along his left shoulder, coiled up in the light of the morning sun and sleeping.

 

On his lap, his fingers moved in gentle motions over the sheath of his sword, the motion smooth and rhythmic.

 

Koji grinned widely as he grew closer, and Izuku slowly opened an eye, hand coming up to sign a loose and casual greeting.

 

-Yo-

 

-Good Morning, Izuku!-

 

As Koji set the wheelbarrow down, he looked up taking in the feathered form of Kuro, his sitting quietly on a roost nestled among the leaves, beak slowly preening at his feathers.

 

“Hello, Kuro.”

With a twitch the kite took flight, drifting in a loose circle to perch on the wheelbarrow handle. “Hello Koda-human.”

 

“Would you pass the message around that I'm almost ready? I’ll be setting up just a bit further in.”

 

Kuro gave what seemed to be almost a bow.

“Of course. Those who helped you earlier are quite excited.”

 

With a flap of his wings, Kuro took off into the depths of the woods, swerving past the branches as he vanished.

 

As Koji looked back down, Midoriya was already at his side, clipping his sword back to his hip with a smooth motion, as he stepped forwards, the scaled length of Seras looped around his neck and looking around, sleepily hissing a greeting before settling back into the warmth of Izuku’s form. 

 

With his jacket back down, Koji could actually see his shirt.

 

It was black, with a red english sentence which he took a second to translate.

 

‘I died and came back and all I got was trauma and this shirt.’

 

The larger teen was concerned but at the same time, he couldn’t help but snort slightly.

 

As Izuku gave a soft smirk, the two of them started walking into the woods, the wheelbarrow rolling along as they headed to the small clearing inside the grove that Koji usually sat in to speak with his animals.

 

By the time the two got there, the birds had already started to flock in and arrive. Hunting birds like owls and hawks settled into the thicker branches near the tops of the trees, while dozens of smaller birds fluttered among the leaves below them. Songbirds, finches, and woodpeckers flitted to and fro, while the larger corvids gathered in groups, talking amongst themselves in murders and courts. Meanwhile, the far more common pigeons settled among the grass in droves, picking at the grass.

 

As the two humans slowly walked in, the commotion grew louder, and Koda got to work. 

 

Greeting and talking to the birds, he went through the common pleasantries, calming disagreements and helping direct the groups around them, while Izuku pulled the tarp from the wheelbarrow and laid it on the ground, revealing sacks of nuts and seeds, as well as large bag of jerky, unseasoned to be safe for the birds.

 

When the birds were finally placated and organized, Koji and Izuku began to pay the birds back for their help, Izuku cutting up the bags as Koji spread it around the tarp, letting the birds come forth in waves as they came for the food.

 

Hours later, the seeds and meat long since consumed, Izuku and Koji walked out of the grove, Kuro resting on the brim of the barrel, and Seras coiled up at the bottom as they walked in the sun.

 

Speaking softly, Koji filled the comfortable silence. “Thank you for helping.”

 

Izuku hummed softly. “We’re friends. It’s my pleasure.”

 

As they got closer to the main building, Kuro took wing, drifting high in lazy circles, and Seras slithered up Koji’s arm.

 

As Koji turned towards the gate, however, he noticed Izuku slow to a stop, looking at the school as he drew his hair back into a loose bun, wrapping it with a hair-tie from his wrist.

 

“Izuku?”

 

“Go ahead. I have an appointment to get to.” Izuku gave a wave, already starting to walk up towards the building. “See you monday, Koji. Have a nice weekend.”

 

Koji paused, but nodded to himself, raising his voice slightly. “Be safe… Izuku.”

 

Izuku paused and gave a smile over his shoulder. “I’ll try.”

 

And then he was passing through the doors, and Koji turned to make his way home.

 

It was a nice morning. Productive and calming.

 

Then

Stepping out of the elevator felt like walking into a doctor’s office. Or maybe something closer to the dread of visiting a teachers office. An inevitability of conflict and investigation.

 

“Ah, Midoriya. A pleasure to finally meet face-to-face.”

 

Reaching out, Izuku shook the hand of the overweight man in a similar uniform to his own. The voice was easily recognizable as the same person who had called him this morning.

 

‘So this is Alex Yu.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you as well, sir.”

 

“Have to say, you don’t look terrible in the Transtar uniform!” He leaned back somewhat, hand rubbing at his chin as he took Izuku in, before nodding. “Now, that door over there leads to the testing rooms; the process might be… unconventional, but you’ll learn why, soon enough.”

 

“Of course. I’ll do my best.” Izuku forced his nerves further down, putting on a politely interested air and a smile.

 

“Wonderful. Don’t overthink it, Dr. Bellamy is gonna walk you through the process. You’re in good hands.” As Alex stepped aside, looking over towards the security booth, Izuku was left to head for the door.

 

When the door hissed open at his approach, he tossed one last glance back at Alex Yu.

 

‘I don’t trust him.’

 

And with that, he stepped through.

 

And the tests began.

 

Now

Izuku stretched out on the couch, shifting so that he was sprawled loosely across the cushions—one leg propped up on the arm of the couch, the other swinging loose at the side.

 

“This is a nice couch.”

Across from him, a huff of amusement left Hound Dog’s jowls, as the teacher settled into his own chair, a comfortable looking recliner.

 

“Thanks for coming in on your day off, Midoriya.”

 

“No problem.” Izuku was focusing, eyes half closed, as he focused on his senses. The faint hum of electricity, the distant cawing of birds, the shift of leather under Hound Dog’s weight… And slowly he dismissed them, pushing them from his focus. The tick of a clock in the room next to the office faded away. The gentle creak of the building under wind…

 

He let his mind filter them, identify them, and then compartmentalize them. 

 

He then focused inwards, confident that he would sense any external changes, as he focused on the pulse of his blood under his skin.

 

The beat of his heart.

 

The push and pull of steady breaths.

 

The slow flexing of fingers and muscles as he let himself loosen and drift…

 

He let himself relax.

 

“Ready.”

 

Hound Dog nodded, familiar with this. It was their third session so far, and the first had mostly been spent on developing this state. Izuku wasn’t able to talk or express himself the way he needed to in therapy, because his body reaction to the tension was to go fight or flight. Or, if he tried to push it, he ran the risk of triggering flashbacks and losing his grip on his sanity as he fell into his memories.

 

Hound Dog had actually been important to its development as well, supplying the methodology and differing traditions that he formed his technique from, particularly the concept of ‘Buddhist’ meditation and ‘Mindfulness’ meditation.

 

Buddhist meditation focused on maintaining internal awareness of one's body and mental state, bringing them into alignment and focusing past aberrant thoughts and issues.

 

Mindfulness, on the other hand, focused outwards on the world, taking in and filtering through the senses and cataloguing the world around him.

 

Fusing the two and using them in sequence was strange, but Izuku was no stranger to the art of learning mental tricks and had managed a basic form. Even now, with his mind in that strange tranquility, he was slowly learning more and more about how to keep it going.

 

“Then let's begin. Last week, we spoke about expressing yourself more. Have you noticed any progress with that?”

 

Izuku kept his eyes lidded, but he began to talk, a low voice that was pitched to carry through the air.

 

“I’ve tried to be more… vocal about my thoughts.” Izuku thought back to his conversations with the rest of his friends. His commentary on their fights and the help he tried to give them. “It’s been… difficult. I’m not used to explaining my thought process to most people. I can explain my actions, give motivation to what I’m doing. I did that for the chat often enough. But… I wasn’t exactly the most vocal person before the simulation.”

 

He took a few seconds, feeling the swirl of emotion pass through him, before he let it settle. 

 

“And then there was the tournament…” Izuku trailed off, not even sure where to begin.

 

‘Todoroki? No, he deserves privacy. Momo? I was clear with her. Same with Koda and Kyouka…’

 

And then he thought of it.

 

“I.. do regret something. I haven’t spoken with my childhood friend much. We keep… circling the subject.”

 

Hound Dog nodded gently. “Unresolved tension can do that. The fear of what the outcome might be can be paralyzing sometimes.”

 

Izuku gave a slow nod, already sorting through his newest surge of emotions. 

 

“We almost fought in the finals too. It was close, but he was caught off guard at the last second.” Izuku gave a soft huff of amusement. “I bet he’s pissed about that.”

 

“This would be Bakugou, yes? I know you’ve brought him up before when we spoke on coping mechanisms.”

 

“Yeah. That was Bakugou. Always angry, always pushing to be better and stronger.” Izuku confirmed.

 

“And speaking of anger. How have you felt recently?”

 

Izuku gave a soft hum, feeling the way the air in his lungs vibrated with the sound.

 

“Resigned. I know what's coming. I’ve already seen the first articles. The media smells blood in the water. Something they can claw at UA’s reputation with.”

 

Izuku closed his eyes, the articles flickering through his mind, his near perfect memory dragging words into alignment.

 

“They want to drag me into the dirt to get to UA.”

 

Then

“Can someone get me a cup of coffee? I would appreciate it. Thank you.” As Izuku walked into room D, looking around, he kept an eye on the conversations the scientists were having.

 

Izuku was getting… nervous. The testing had been weird .

 

Each of the small rooms he had stepped into had all had windows where several scientists peered in, walking around a larger room.

 

And the scientist in charge was Dr. Bellamy.

 

His height, the severe style of his dark hair, and his dry and insulting demeanor didn’t help his continued instructions. Hiding in an empty room, moving over a short wall, and moving boxes from a circle. All of which seem simple. There wasn’t much of a difficulty curve to any of the actions, but there was a growing sense of… annoyance . More than one sideways glance had been exchanged, and Bellamy was more and more blunt with each test’s conclusion, looking at his coworkers to vent something akin to disappointment or frustration as the tests went on.

 

Now was the last test. A computer, sharing the sleek touch design that he had seen back in the apartment, at a desk with a chair.

 

“Okay, Midoriya. Take a seat at the table for me, please.”

 

Complying, Izuku sat down in the chair, shifting to get comfortable even as he kept his eyes on the way Bellamy stared at a screen on a desk in the larger room, another scientist sitting there as he typed away..

 

“Wonderful job. Take a look at the screen in front of you. I’m going to show you a series of questions. Pick the answer that makes the most sense for you.” Bellamy stood back up, hands clasped. “Press start when you’re ready to begin.”

 

‘So from physical to psychological… hmm.’

 

With a tap of his fingers, the Izuku began. As the first question came up, he made sure to read it carefully. No sense in being stupid about this.

 

You’re planning a vacation. Go somewhere familiar you know you love, or try something new.

 

This was fairly easy. He wanted familiarity. Him and his mom, together somewhere relaxing. Someplace he could call safe…

 

 

• Familiar.

 

 

“Good! Looks like you got the hang of it already. Keep going.”

 

The next question loaded up and Izuku took notice of the way the thin, glass-like screen shifted, sliding from right to left and flexing slightly when refreshing or loading a new page.

 

You’ve been sentenced to death for your actions. How does this make you feel?

 

Izuku… had to read that twice, the way his heart clenched in his chest and his hair stood up making him nearly flinch.

 

The options… weren’t much better.

 

Did he feel Angry? Afraid? Or calm?

 

Each of the answers were… antagonistic. They wanted an absolute. No compromises or half measures.

 

But he knew the answer for him.

 

 

• Afraid. I don’t know what will happen.

 

 

“Oh, that’s heavy stuff.”  

 

He almost missed Bellamy’s comment, focusing instead on calming his anxious nerves. He didn’t have time to second guess or worry. Not yet.

 

The next question.

 

A runaway train is bearing down on five people who are tied to a track. You can cause the train to switch tracks, but there is one person tied to the second track.

 

He… he knew this one. The Trolly Problem. It was a classic topic, especially in the age of heroes. When people who could throw cars fought against disasters, this question came up with regularity.

 

It was a question of Triage, and of making a hard choice. Do you sacrifice the one person who would otherwise be safe, dooming them? Or do you let the events play out and accept the larger death toll?

 

Do you cause less death by your own actions, or condemn the greater death by your inaction?

 

And… Izuku’s normal answer didn’t apply. He couldn’t derail this train. Couldn’t avoid the question.

 

With a heavy heart, he chose the one he had to.

 

 

• Switch tracks.

 

 

“Good. Next.” 

 

A runaway train is bearing down on five people who are tied to a track. You are standing on the platform next to an enormously fat man. Pushing him onto the rails would stop the train.

 

What? This was… cruelty. This wasn’t a choice of two determined deaths. This wasn’t a check on triage. This was… ruthlessness.

 

No. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t make that choice. He would sacrifice himself first, before doing this act of bloody desperation. Not now. Hopefully not ever.

 

 

• Do nothing.

 

 

“Almost done.”

 

Izuku didn’t answer Bellamy. Instead he was slowly unclenching his fist, hiding the series of red crescents along his palm under the table.

 

A runaway train is bearing down on five people who are tied to a track. You could stop the train by jumping onto the tracks, but you would die.

 

Izuku grimaced. It was like it was calling him out. Asking how far he would go.

 

He didn’t back down.

 

 

• Jump on the tracks.

 

 

“Wow… I’m impressed.”

 

Izuku looked up leaning back in his chair slightly as he forced himself to unwind.

 

“Well done, well done. We’re nearly through it. For the next part, I’m going to display an image.”

 

Izuku glanced down at the screen, blinking as what looked like a Rorschach test came into frame—

 

What was that?

 

His eyes flicked up, locking on Bellamy’s desk as he caught a flicker of movement.

 

‘Coffee cup. Coffee Cup. Computer. Lamp.’

 

“I want you to take a good look at it. In a moment I’m going to ask you what…”

 

Bellamy lifted one of the cups, looking down almost confusedly as Izuku clenched the desk edge, tensing as he got a bad feeling.

“Is this my coffee? It’s empty.”

 

Izuku clenched.

 

‘No one brought over a coffee. So why are there two cups, when before…’

 

“I thought Simm—”

 

The burst of black made him leap back, kicking the chair behind him, as his eyes locked on the tentacled black mass of fibers wrapping around Bellamy’s face.

 

‘There was only one cup.’

 

One of the scientists started calling for security but Izuku was already grabbing his chair and twisting, slamming it at the glass only for it to crack, spider webbing but not shattering . He needed to do something — ! 

 

Thick green mist flooded the room from the vents before him, heavy and dark as it almost blinded him, already making him stagger, chair slipping from nerveless fingers.

 

But even as he slumped, body failing him and eyes dragging shut, he could hear.

 

“Simmons, what’s going on?” That voice… It was Alex? Right?

 

“We have a problem.”

 

“And Midoriya?” The more he tried to focus, the more the voices faded in and out.

 

“Alive, but sedated.”

 

The last words that he heard before drifting into the darkness would have made him worry if he could.

 

“Clean it up. I’m on my way.”

Now

Sitting on the train as it rolled towards his section of Musutafu ward, Izuku glanced down at the small list of things to try and work on. Things to help him destress that weren’t combat associated was a major suggestion from Hound Dog. Most of Izuku’s coping mechanisms were… related to survival in some form. Fighting, stretching, weapon maintenance… they were all associated with combat and the game. 

 

All habits, not hobbies. Izuku needed something else to focus on. Something that wouldn’t be a weapon but would help with emotional expression, would help him process his issues.

 

There were some generic suggestions on the list. Poetry, sketching or painting… But the one that stood out was something that he wasn’t expecting.

 

‘Learn an Instrument.’

 

He had never even considered it. Not since the simulation started. Even when he stole all the instruments from the animatronics in Freddy's, it had only been as an act of spite…

 

But he did like music. 

 

It had been one of the ways of interacting with his chat. After he had started working out programming languages in Prey he had found an option in his ‘menu’ to let the chat choose music for him when he wasn’t fighting or busy. Often replacing the music from radios and jukeboxes in some places with the songs the chat chose. And sometimes they even gave him warnings in advance.

 

Now… Who did he know with some skill with music? Or an instrument? 

 

He nearly smiled as he swapped from his note app on his phone over to the group chat.

 

Midori: @Kyo Would you happen to know a good music store? I’m in the market for an instrument, and need some advice.

 

As the dots signalling she was responding lit up, Izuku leaned back and glanced out the window, watching the city move past.

 

‘Change is coming. But I need to keep the peace I find where I can.’

 

Then

Izuku blinked awake…. And then shot up, eyes wide as he glanced around- the apartment?

He was in a bed again?

 

“Good Morning Izuku. Today is September 13th, 2032.”

 

Slowly he glanced around up, hearing soft music playing before he slowly reached out and tapped off the alarm clock, before running a hand across his face, pushing the bangs that brushed his cheekbones away from his eyes with a casual motion before taking in the room.

 

His eyes roved around with confusion. It was… the apartment. Just as it had been when he woke up the first time. The sun is coming through the window. The bottle of wine on the counter. The various wires and parts strewn across the counters, the Transtar uniform hanging off the front door.

 

What the fuck was going on?

Chapter 44: Audio Cues

Then

Izuku glanced around the room, spinning in a slow circle even as he fought down the rising wave of unease that rocked his body.

 

‘There’s differences.’ He was forcing himself to slow, to focus, to process.

 

For one… no helicopter and no call from Alex.

 

The wine was on the wrong counter— And there were six messages on the computer. 

 

Not three.

 

Walking slowly, Izuku stayed on high alert, eyes roving from side to side as he reached the console.

 

A tap brought up the screen, a password already loaded in.

 

Parad0x

 

That… wasn’t there before. He swears it was unlocked last time?

 

He noted down the word, and tapped enter.

 

Six messages popped up.

 

All of them… the same.

From: January

Danger. Leave. Now.

EOM

 

Yep. Fuck this.

 

He moved back across the room and started the process of pulling on the red suit as he looked around for something he could use as a weapon. Bottle of wine? No, would shatter too easily. Any of the furniture? None of it looked sturdy enough, it was all low-set couches and tables. Lots of glass and wood, but nothing metal and easy to move.

 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I fucking knew something was wrong.

 

Finishing pulling the suit together, it hissed tight to his body again, and he reached out to snag what wires and tubing he could get from the workbench, stashing them in pockets as he glanced around the counters. 

 

Nothing heavy-duty here either, it’s mostly electronics tools.

 

In the end, he headed for the door.

 

Pushing out into the hallway, he slowed, and stopped. He looked down the hall, and then back, and then down the hall again. He felt his skin prick and itch with the surge of adrenaline, the goosebumps down his spine of a plan already being discarded in panic.

 

The end of the hallway to his right was the fishtank and end of the hallway, just where he remembered them from the previous time he stepped through this door.

 

But the left, where the elevator had been, was… blocked. The screen that had been there was glitched, a blue error screen flickering and flashing, casting the area in an eerie light, the hall lights that would have been above it dead and shattered. And as Izuku’s eyes took in the sight, he saw what happened to the rest of the hallway.

 

It was blocked by a wall . A perfect match for the walls around it, was just… there.

 

And where the janitor once was, was a withered corpse reaching out pleadingly from where she had been crouched over a maintenance panel.

 

“Oh I do not like this.”

 

Walking slowly, footsteps nearly silent, Izuku got close enough to crouch, looking over the body with a grimace. It looked… dessicated. There wasn’t any blood, but it looked like it had been drained out and sections of skin had been just… carved away. The area around her almost looked wet. Like something had been squeezed out of her.

 

Sighing, he dismissed the body and glanced over her outfit, looking for anything he could salvage. Luckily, there was something he could use.

 

Reaching past her, he wrapped his hand around the base of the large pipe wrench.

 

‘Heavy. Steel alloy of some sort, but thick and durable. That’ll work until I can get something sharp.’

 

It even had a convenient hook on the end that would attach to his belt without issue.

 

As he hefted it up, he heard…

Something.

 

It was distant.

The faintest clatter of something, muffled almost beyond his perception.

 

From the direction of his apartment.

And then, his transcribe started ringing. With only a moment's hesitation, Izuku answered.

 

The ID was simple. 

 

January.

 

Through the speaker, a voice, slightly muffled but… familiar, rang out. “Hello, Izuku. It’s time we spoke. What happened in the testing chambers was real.”

 

Izuku glanced back down, taking in the body and the dark hallway. “Then do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

 

“If you want to know that, you need to come to me. First, you have to get out of the apartment. Once you do that, I’ll be in touch.”

 

Before Izuku could get another word off, the call ended, leaving him standing in a dead end with no leads. “Ah, Fuck.”

---

Now

Izuku shrugged on his leather jacket, and shook his head, frowning slightly at the weight and balance being different than his usual ponytail. His hair was tucked under a black beanie, a pair of yellow markings shaped like Eraserhead’s goggles printed over the front. Under the beanie, his mother had helped him pin the majority of his hair into a tight bun, leaving only a few straggling bangs that were a touch too short to pin back hanging from the sides of his temples. Checking he was all ready, he pulled up the simple black facemask, a white ‘X’ crossing over it as it covered his mouth and the distinctive smattering of freckles.

 

And like that, he was as anonymous as he could get.

 

Aside from the bag across his back, anyway.

 

The new sword bag he had strapped on was a deep black synthetic silk, with a series of red- and blue-tipped compass roses stitched along its length: a gift from his mom. Blight-Killer was slid inside with ease and the strap kept it hanging close to his back, red ties holding the entire thing together and secure for travel.

 

And then there was the collection of less obvious weapons on him.

 

His right hand was wrapped to the elbow in black silk ribbon, both to help keep him from stressing the joints on Recovery Girl’s orders and as an easy weapon or defense if he needed to tie someone down. To go with that, was a small metal ring that would work as a counterweight on the ribbon if he needed to swing it at people. His jacket had two switchblades tucked away in internal pockets, and a pair of combat knives were strapped to him, one tucked in his left boot, the other along the base of his spine. Along with his blades, there was also a short metal bar tucked into his pocket, studded slightly for grip and with padded leather ends. 

 

Mei had called it a ‘Sap’ and it was used to strengthen his blows by giving him more weight behind his fist. 

 

And then to top it off, he had a cigarette carton in his pocket, one he had emptied out to store a… small pack of thermite charges and a few magnesium fuses, paired with a Hatsume Modified Lighter. There were also two real cigarettes left in it, just in case he had a breakdown at some point and needed the help settling himself.

He wasn’t planning to let anyone jump him, but if someone tried? He was going to make them pray for mercy.

 

With the last of his gear checked and his disguise together, he walked down the hall towards the door, glancing back around the empty apartment in mild disappointment. His mom had left early that morning, and she wouldn’t be back till late. A consequence of her taking the last two days off for the Sports Festival and him.

 

Tapping the security code to lock down the apartment after he left, Izuku headed out onto the walkway, eyes sweeping the skyline as he turned to start heading for the stairs.

 

He was happy that his mom had agreed to secure and privatize all their public information after the USJ, with Nedzu’s help. If it wasn’t through a government database then no one could look up their phone numbers, address, or Inko’s place of employment. And even beyond that, his medical files and the exact nature of his augmentations were only accessible by U.A., I-Island, attending physicians (which was currently Recovery Girl,) and his mom. 

 

As he slipped through the stairwell, feet silent, he checked his phone. Jirou had texted an address that wasn’t too far away—only about two stops on the subway north and a ten-minute walk past that. Momo had decided to join them, but Koji would be busy. Apparently, he was volunteering at an animal adoption center for the day. The barrage of cute animal photos had been appreciated and saved into a folder on Izuku’s phone.

 

As he ducked out the side door of the apartment complex, he plotted his destination in his mind and took off at a light job.

 

A side alley, a fire escape, a bit of climbing, and he was stepping onto the roofs of the small market district with a content stretch.

 

And with the cool spring air and the distant scent of the ocean, he took off across the roofs towards the subway station.

 

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the hallway one last time, before tightening his grip on the wrench and walking back towards the apartment.

As he stepped through the door, he looked around.

 

Where did that sound come from?

 

Frowning, he walked through the apartment, checking around the bathroom and kitchen before coming to a stop near the glass windows overlooking the city.

 

‘If I break out the windows, I might be able to find a way down. Perhaps even get a clear idea of what’s going on.’

 

Decided, he walked over to the closet and picked up a folded up shirt, wrapping it around his arm as he stepped back up to the glass.

 

“Right…” With his arm wrapped to avoid glass shards, he hefted the wrench up.

 

And then— He swung, and the world outside the glass shattered.

 

The image of San Francisco, the rising sun over the bay and the distant shape of the Golden Gate Bridge; as the pane shattered, the image went with it—a dozen shards looking out at a perfect city—before they fell, revealing steel walls and shelves. Desks and a metal walkway before him, and a high ceiling above him. Two stand-lights shone with bright yellow colors right at the window, likely the source of the heat he had felt earlier. And beyond that, just for a second, Izuku felt his head ring with Deja Vu. 

 

He blinked away the feeling as the glass shards landed and spread across the floors, and slowly stood up straight.

 

The world had been faked. 

 

Parts of his memory of that first trip to the labs began to slide into place. Moments where things had felt off.

 

The elevator not shaking or giving that sense of motion. The helicopter ride was… smooth. Not kicking up dust or blowing wind around the landing pad.

 

For that matter the lack of dust and wind entirely. He hadn’t even noticed until now.

 

He was being set up.

 

“Fuck.”

 

He tossed the shirt, now ripped up by shards of glass, to the side and tightened his grip on the wrench.

 

And like that, he stepped out of the simulated apartment, and behind the curtains.

 

---

Now

Iida Tenya sat on his bed, arms braced over his knees as he just… existed.

 

He had tried sleeping on and off all night, and every time he did he just… couldn’t close his eyes. Not without suddenly being in the hospital, looking at his brother, bandaged and hooked up to machines as he tried to recover.

 

It was only due to his exhaustion that he finally passed out, and now that morning had come, he was at a loss. His mother was planning to take him back to the hospital later this afternoon to keep Tensei company, to talk to the doctor about… treatment.

 

His father, meanwhile, had been reinstating himself as temporary leader of Team Idaten. Helping organize and direct the various heroes and sidekicks under the family name to push back against the chaos that the news of Tensei’s injury had sparked, both in the media and the neighborhoods where Team Idaten regularly patrolled.

 

Tenya however… felt like a loose end. What could he do? 

 

It was only as he sat there, struggling, searching for a goal, that the thought crossed his mind.

 

Stain.

 

The Hero-Killer.

 

Almost without thinking, he headed for his computer and booted it up, fingers racing for the keys as he logged in, before pausing.

 

Clicking on the Ingenium Icon's app, he faced a login screen.

 

But it wasn’t his login that he used.

 

It was the one he had learned by looking over Tensei's shoulder only months ago as his brother went into detail about a fight, looking for pictures. It was the password and username to the Idaten Database.

 

In seconds, Tenya had access to files on every Hero, Villain, Vigilante, or major crime incident that team Idaten had ever dealt with.

 

Including the reports of the Hero-killer.

 

With shaking hands, he began to search.

 

And the more he learned, the more a plan began to form.

 

A desperate, stupid plan.

 

---

Then

The area around the simulated apartment was… odd. Shelves with copies of various furniture and supplies were stacked, white boards listing settings and timing. The first computer, a console that was just outside the glass of the window, detailed what looked like a waking up schedule.

 

The same one he remembered from the- the first? No, that’s not right. The previous run. He blinked a sudden ache away from between his eyes and focused back onto the screen, tapping at the computer to try and get more information, reading the next email out loud softly.

 

“From Alex Yu… ‘I know this morning's incident has left people shaken. To prevent unnecessary panic, please refrain from contacting people outside of your department. A station-wide announcement will be made shortly. In the meantime, Ms. Elazar and her security team are on high alert and will field any requests you have. I know some of you are worried about Dr. Bellamy. He's currently being treated in the trauma center and is in critical but stable condition. Thank you for your patience and dedication to this project.’”

 

Izuku frowned. So the simulation had only happened… what, several hours ago? He tabbed out and scowled, trying to work out what exactly-

 

The crash of something falling to the ground echoed from further into the area around the fake apartment. With a soft curse, Izuku snagged the wrench from the desk and began to walk quietly away from the direction of the sound. Glancing around he ducked into an office- 

 

His head ached as he looked at a chair before him. Strapped down with a complex looking head harness, the chair was dead center. To the side, a locked safe with a glowing keypad sat, but Izuku ignored it, pushing the pain away as he quietly mantled up onto a tall shelving unit, trying to get a better angle, crouching as he looked out at the room beyond the cubicle.

 

For several long minutes, nothing happened.

 

Izuku began to slowly untense, glancing around the side office once more only to shift and bump his knee into a suitcase tucked away next to where he was hiding. He paused and glanced around. A suitcase? Tucked up and out of the way? Weird...

 

‘This might be useful.’

 

Izuku reached down to the suitcase, fingers finding the clasps with ease, before he clicked it open.

 

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t really feel surprised.

 

No, as he reached into the briefcase he felt… a sense of Deja Vu.

 

But that quickly faded as he lifted the high-tech stun gun from it’s position in the briefcase, next to a small tool kit and a medical pack.

 

As he tested the charge, blue sparks arcing around the tongs of the handgun, he heard the clattering resume.

 

After a moment's consideration, he switched the wrench to his left hand, and stripped the briefcase of supplies. Four spare batteries for the stun gun, the medkit, and the tools were all stashed in his suit pockets, while the stun gun was hefted in his right hand. Newly rearmed, he moved out, only sparing one last ice cold glance back at the surgical chair.

 

And the spots of dark red that lined the floor.

 

---

Now

Kyouka glanced at her phone, checking what train Izuku was planning to arrive on, before sighing. Dressed in a longer black skirt, dark purple leggings and a faded grey hoodie, she was a darker contrast to the taller teen at her side. Speaking of, Momo was also looking around the crowded subway stop, her superior height giving her the advantage. “Any sign of him?”

 

“Not yet.” Momo frowned, pushing up on the toes of her boots to get more height, the motion drawing Jirou’s eyes to the way her cream colored sweater and a long navy skirt hugged the frame of her friend. “It’s very crowded, but I could have sworn that Izuku would find us-”

 

“And I did.”

 

The two girls jumped at the sudden comment from between them. There, having stepped out of the crowd was a covered up figure. If not for their familiarity with him, they doubted they would have recognized him. The usual poise and quiet grace that Izuku held was tucked away, replaced by a lazy stride and sloped shoulders, making the already slender and shorter teen into a much smaller, younger looking figure. And that’s before taking in the concealing jacket and beanie hiding his hair.

 

“God, Izuku. You scared the shit outta me.” Kyouka recovered and gave him a light punch in the shoulder. Behind her, Momo gave a sigh as she held a hand to her chest, feeling her heart race at the surprise.

 

“Sorry. Trying to avoid getting ambushed by the media today.” Kyouka grimaced at the thought.

 

Momo frowned, hesitating slightly as she tried to be polite. “I did hear that…”

 

“-They already decided my entire life story should be an article? Yeah.” Izuku didn’t hesitate to state the problem, his voice laced with a touch of bitter scorn. With a sigh, he shifted his stance, arms crossing. “I don’t want to get into it, least of all right now.” 

 

Kyouka nodded in understanding, and gestured in the direction of the stairs. “Then let's get out of here before someone notices and you get pissed off.”

 

The three of them headed out, Kyouka taking the lead as Momo and Izuku trailed after her. As they passed out of the subway terminal, the bright saturday morning greeted them. The three of them blended in with the masses without more than a few long stares, most of which were at Momo’s height and curves, rather than the slender forms at her side.

 

The fact that Momo didn’t even seem to notice their attention was all that kept more than one of the random pedestrians they walked past from making a move.

 

The fact that looking too long in their direction would get a stare that felt like someone was walking on their grave forced the point.

 

As they walked, they spoke.

 

Mainly about the sports festival, and their performance. Momo and Izuku tossed back weapon details, about balance points and cost versus durability of her tools. Kyouka asked about places to work on developing martial arts, and Izuku and Momo both offered several suggestions for workout routines and stretches. By the time they turned the last corner and approached the music store itself, the three of them had fallen into a comfortable conversation about what muscles were more important to stretch, before it devolved back to Momo and Izuku debating.

 

“-Trust me, leg stretches are a lifesaver. Getting a cramp when trying to run for your life is quite literally a killer.” Izuku had relaxed somewhat, unzipping his leather jacket to reveal a white shirt with red gunshot wounds, and the words “Still not dead yet” emblazoned on the front.

 

“You also can’t deny that core stretches are important! A flexible core is vital.”

Jirou rolled her eyes and poked both her nerds, pulling their attention as they came across the store she was looking for.

“We’re here.” And with that, she pushed through the door and breathed deep the scent of electronics and aged wood. “Welcome to Jun’s, the best instrument shop outside of Tokyo.”

 

“Damn straight, kid.” A low voice drawled from the counter, and Izuku and Momo found their eyes drawn to a tall and tattooed looking man, his hair salt and pepper grey. Izuku noted with interest that the man had four long arms, with what seemed to be… looks like three joints each. The arms quite literally unfolded to give him twice the reach.

 

As the book was set aside, he leaned over the counter, two arms reaching out along the surface, while the other two folded into a complex looking fold for him to lean on. “So, you said one of your pals is looking for an instrument. Is it the punk or the girl?”

 

“The punk.”

 

Izuku gave a wave and the old man, who Izuku suspected was Jun, looked at him with a curious look.

 

“Well, go ahead and try some instruments out.”

 

Kyouka gave a dismissive scoff. “Was going to, old man.”

 

As the old man pulled his book back out, the three teens headed back.

 

Rows and rows of shelves held carefully organized cases and stands for various instruments, but Jirou led them almost straight to the back.

 

“Alright, I have an idea of what you’ll like, but we’ll have to test them out.” Jirou twisted round, and her lips were curved up into a grin that Izuku hadn’t quite seen from the normally sarcastic girl.

 

Pure excitement.

 

And as she picked through the instruments for the first one that he would try, he couldn’t help but relax.

 

---

Then

Navigating the rooms was hard. It was clear, particularly once he got through the first few back corridors, that the various rooms he had passed through in the ‘fake’ morning had been overlapped on each other. And that in the time that he had been passed out someone had tried to reset it and something had failed. Walls were out of alignment, one half showing the hallway the other half showing the labs. But no matter how far he got through the area, he could still hear… something. 

 

Honestly, if not for the poisonous sensation of hate that coiled under his heart at being shown something so peaceful only for it to be a lie, he would have been impressed. The rooftop with the helicopter was a full soundstage, and even beyond that, the details were spot on. But he had places to be.

 

So as Izuku ducked around a corner, eyes peeled as he stepped into what he recognized as the fake lab where he had been tested, he was ready for anything to go wrong. 

 

And could hear something clattering from inside of one of the testing rooms.

 

He crept across the floor, but as he neared the testing tooms he saw it. The hiding test chamber. 

 

‘Just follow your instincts, and hide.’

 

He had been confused and crouched behind a chair. 

 

The chair that was in the room. 

 

But now there were two of them. 

 

He lifted his gun and began to prime a shot, stepping closer-

 

And one of the chairs exploded into a mass of balck tendrils that tried to lung at him- before slapping into the glass, shattering it but also killing its forward momentum.

 

With a twitch, he leveled the stun gun and fired, seeing the mass squirm and twitch, before stepping forwards and slamming the wrench down, again and again, until it stopped moving.

 

And then the transcribe channel opened up.

 

"Typhoon Cacoplasmus, but most people call them Mimics. You should be careful what you pick up, Midoriya. Who knows what’s real or not around here.”

 

Before Izuku could so much as curse, the line closed again. In frustration, Izuku breathed deeply, stretching out his arm. His eyes never stopped roaming the room however, the pulse of his blood rushing through his ears.

 

Shit. They could be anything.

 

And like he had called them out, he could hear it. 

 

Clattering and shifting as things moved through the next few rooms, finding hiding spots.

 

But in the back of his mind, something seemed to click, like an entry from his journals.

 

‘Ambush predators. Fast, but not very powerful. They’re too small to get leverage for a strike, so they have to use torque to fling themselves at a target. But Bellamy wasn’t just beatend down, he was drained. They grapple.’

 

He started moving, checking the charge counter on the stun gun to see he had used a quarter of the battery just for that one shot. Scowling he did the math. Four shots a battery, and he only got 5 batteries from that suitcase. Unless he found more, he only had 19 more shots. The wrench was holding up well, though. Apparently steel was more than a match for… whatever the hell the mimic was made of. 

 

A quick glance around and Izuku crouched over the smashed and ripped apart mimic.

 

“Now, what makes you tick…”

 

---

Now

Izuku frowned down at the bass guitar, fingers plucking at the strings as he tried a simple chord. The way it made Kyouka wince slightly was enough to confirm his own thoughts.

 

“I don’t think this is it.” Over the last hour he tried a few instruments, starting with drums and pianos, before moving onto the various string instruments on display. This was only the latest guitar he’d been handed. They had marked the piano down as a ‘maybe’, but Izuku hadn’t really liked the idea of getting stuck sitting at it with his back to the room. He blames his paranoia. By that same token, most of the flutes and horns he had been handed were not quite his style. Too loud. 

 

The guitars and such had been okay, but they didn’t feel right. Too quick, too… upbeat, almost.

 

Kyouka had agreed. 

 

So now he was going to the slightly less common instruments.

 

Handing the bass guitar to Momo, Izuku watched Kyouka wander the aisles, hands tapping a beat as she considered the other string instruments, moving from the ‘Modern’ section towards the more classical instruments.

 

“Hmmm… so percussion is out of the question, same with keyboards, brass and guitar. So let's try…”

Reaching up on the toes of her boots, Jirou slid a smaller case from a higher shelf, before heading back.

 

“Here, give this a try.”

 

Izuku took the smaller case, and cracked it open.

 

“A violin?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

With Jirou’s advice, it wasn’t long until he was holding the violin braced under his jaw, arm loose around the neck and a bow in his right hand.

 

“Kay, give it a try.”

 

Breathing in, he lifted his bow and dragged it along the strings, only to wince as the noise it made was… unhappy.

 

Frowning he adjusted, and tried again.

 

The grip made sense. Holding it loosely for control, not power. It was all about angle of strike.

 

Before Jirou could offer any advice, he drew it back.

 

This time it was less the screams of the damned and instead was only slightly screechy, and halfway through the draw he adjusted to make it mellow out.

 

He drew it back, and forth, getting used to the sound as he tested the angles, with only some minor screeching.

 

Kyouka wasn’t flinching and instead looked almost curious. “Huh… not bad so far, lets try some simple notes?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Reaching out she began to walk him through a simple scale, and then the basics of Ode To Joy’s opening. 

 

When Izuku felt he had the basics down, he lifted the bow and tried.

 

It wasn’t perfect. He overshot a note early on, but corrected, and finished without much of an issue.

 

But now that he had an idea of what the scales sounded like, he was… intrigued.

 

Narrowing his eyes he tried a simple pattern, drawing the notes slowly.

 

When he was done, he glanced up to see Jirou smiling, hand on her hip, and Momo clapping with a smile.

 

He ducked his head, looking away as he felt a… heat he hadn’t felt for a while. His lips drew back into a shy smile, and his cheeks took a pink tone. “Sorry, got carried away.”

 

Kyouka’s eye roll was visible even with him looking away, and one of her jacks poked him in the chest. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, geek.” 

 

“Besides,” She snagged the violin from his hand and set it into the case, along with the bow, “I think we found your instrument.”

 

Izuku couldn’t help but relax his smile at that, giving a soft huff of amusement. “We did. Thanks to you, Kyouka.”

 

Only Momo had an angle to notice how Kyouka also had gained a faint blush high on her cheeks.

 

As the three began to trek back towards the front, she smiled. It was nice to see her friends unwind.

 

---

Then

Izuku dropped the dead stun battery in a pocket, looking over the two slumped piles of black that were the mimics that had tried to jump him. He had been methodical, taking each room step by step as he reached the end of the ‘Sound Stage’ as it was called. Now, there was a decontamination doorway and he would officially be out of the area where the simulation was held. 

And into something that was called the ‘Neuromod Division’.

 

With a click, the new battery was slid into the stun gun, and locked into place. Freshly reloaded, Izuku stepped into the decontamination passage.

 

The door slid shut behind him, and there was a hissing as the air was cycled, gas flowing around him and lights shining down. Stepping forwards, he tried to get a better look out the other side of the chamber, only to flinch as a taller man in white and green slammed into the door.

 

“AH! GET IT OFF, GET IT-”

And around his neck, a Mimic clenched tighter.

 

Izuku slammed his wrench forwards, but the glass didn’t even crack under the blow. All Izuku could do was watch as the man on the other side was… drained.  

 

The Mimic slipped off the corpse's neck, and began to… Shift.

 

Twitching limbs doubled, and then doubled again, before , with a sound like tearing flesh, what had been one mimic became four.

 

All of which quickly scurried away, as the door began to hiss open.

 

Another call came through from January, even as Izuku crouched to catch the body of the man as it collapsed into the doorway.

 

“No one has been able to stop the mimics from multiplying since they broke containment. I’m going to help you as much as I can, but you need to go. It’s just a little bit further.” 

 

As Izuku sighed and let the body down, he got to his feet. “Fine. But know that when I get to you, I am going to have questions.”

 

“I expect nothing less.”

 

With the hum of the stun gun in one hand, and the weight of the wrench in the other, Izuku headed into the neuromod division.

 

Still, he was haunted by a sense of familiarity.

 

He knew these hallways…. But how?

 

---

Now

Mei stretched, arms and spine popping slight as she moved from the cramped position she had been in for almost half an hour. However, despite the pain, quite literally, in her ass, it was done! 

 

Her BABY for IZUKU! The sleek metal casing was still not sealed shut, but the internals were finished! Capacitors and energy conduits in perfect alignment around a series of three gas ports. Superheated ionized hydrogen would get charged, aimed, and then fired along an electromagnetic tunnel! And the system would fire three of them at once! It even has the bright blue marking lines! 

 

And, thanks to Izuku’s advice, the thing could take a low caliber gunshot and still work! Once the casing was on anyway. It had taken almost a month of work but it was done!

 

And not just that! But she’s also had time to remake all of his damaged armor! And improve it!

 

The original armor had been ruined, something about a disintegration quirk. Even the mask had gotten destroyed!

 

So she had gone beyond.

 

The new armor was sleek, with much better alloys and layers! But it still kept the dark and rugged style that Izuku asked for! 

 

And the new mask was even better! It looked similar to the old one, but had a way better system! She had stolen it from Powerloader's mecha helmet, and then rebuilt it to fit in the compression plating of the mask! It was impact resistant, offered thermal vision as well as the original night vision, and would survive a 50-caliber sniper round!

 

She checked that!

 

Twice!

 

And with the new baby done! There was only one last thing to finish. The collapsing weapon Izuku requested that first day!

 

And she thinks she knows how to do it!

 

Mei laughed, and laughed!- and passed out on her workbench.

 

She had been awake since before the sports festival, after all.

 

---

Then

Izuku slumped against the wall, wincing at the way his arm hurt. The fucking mimics had flanked him, one hiding at the side as another drew him past.

 

It was only the fact he already had his stun gun charged that got the thing off his arm, but not before it had tried to crush him.

 

With a shake of his arm, he turned and looked at the door, before pulling out a keycard he had snagged from the office behind him.

 

The once mostly orderly room was trashed. Chairs knocked over, glass shattered, and wood splintered. 

 

It turned out the Mimics were good at dodging if you didn’t taze them.

 

Izuku wasn’t a fan.

 

Holding the keycard up, the door control flickered green, and slid open.

 

Izuku took a step out, before quickly ducking back in as he took cover behind the edge of the door.

 

The hallway he had come out in was covered in ornate windows on one side, looking over a room with a piano.

 

And something that looked like a mimic’s bigger, uglier, humanoid cousin.

 

January, of course, chose that moment to open the comm channel back up to explain like the worst nature documentary ever.

 

“That was a Phantom. Typhon Anthrophantasmus. You need to keep moving.”

“Oh, yeah, ignore the fucking teleporting alien monster . That’s sage advice.”

 

“It can’t reach you. The recording studio is sealed off right now. Unless you want to wait until it figures out door locks…”

 

Izuku slumped slightly. “God, I hate you.”

 

The line simply closed and Izuku glanced back to see the Phantom vanish, a flash of dark mist all that was left where it had been looking through the window.

 

Taking January at his word for now, Izuku advanced down the hall, slowing slightly at the sight of bloody footprints that led from the direction he was going.

 

Because of course.

 

Following the path as carefully as he could, Izuku glanced at a sparking control panel on the wall, next to something labeled ‘Grav-Lift’. 

 

However, the other direction was something that he didn’t expect.

 

A mimic… that was frozen?

 

Creeping closer, Izuku could see the thing was still alive . It was twitching, trying to break free of… whatever it was covered in. But it looked like an avantgard paper mache sculpture.

 

Well. It wasn’t like Izuku was gonna let it go on living.

 

A quick application of wrench to mimic shattered its cage, and the mimic itself.

 

“Huh. Very nice.”

 

He also found the end of the bloody footsteps. A body, drained like the rest.

 

And an odd looking red gun.

 

He crouched and lifted it up. Compared to the size of his stun gun, this thing was a mass of pipes and pressure valves. He could vaguely recognize a pressure chamber on one side, along with a… he thinks it’s called a condenser?

 

Tilting it, Izuku read the words printed down the side. 

 

“Gelifoam Lattice Organism Obstructor…” but under that, written in marker, was ‘Gloo Gun.’

 

Looking at the piles of concrete like foam that lined the corridor, forming a half barricade blocking the hall, Izuku smiled.

 

“Oh… this? This has potential. ”

 

Rolling the body over, Izuku found another three ‘Gloo Canisters’ and a half empty box of 9mm ammo.

 

“So there are guns around here. Good to know…” Grimacing, Izuku worked off the belt harness of the corpse of Veer Singh, according to his name tag. “Sorry pal, but I need it more than you. I’ll put the gun to good work.”

 

As he hooked the new canister belt to his waist, Izuku heard the clatter and odd sound of mimics further ahead.

 

“Right. Back to it.”

 

Hefting his new gun, Izuku walked further into the facility.

 

---

Now

Shigaraki growled, dancing backwards from the claws of the Nomu, blunted as they were, as it rushed after him.

 

His hands were wrapped in fingerless gloves, and the rest of his torso was exposed, leaving him in only a loose pair of exercise shorts. Slender muscles developed over a year of effort, along with the assistance of several of Sensei’s quirks shaping and reinforcing his body, flexed as he ducked under a swing, before he planted a clawed hand fingers first into the Nomu’s stomach, quirk flexing to rip and decay straight for the heart.

 

Around him, another dozen of the Nomu closed in, all identical thanks to a duplication quirk. Sadly, it was unstable, these Nomu could only duplicate the effects of mutations, not emitter quirks, and the clones were uncontrolled, feral and aggressive.

 

Not the focused fighters that the good doctor and Sugoh were working on, but massed mooks. 

 

Still, it was useful for training.

 

Bouncing on his feet, Shigaraki’s green eye flickered in its scarred socket. As two of the Nomu lunged, he could track both of them, reading their motion and sensing their approach despite them heading towards his back and right side.

 

Grinning savagely, Tomura twisted under one, hand latching on it’s ankle and twisting, slamming the decaying mass of one into the other, before leaping at the circling Nomu, clawing hands dragging dust as he ripped through them one after another.

 

When the last decaying skull hit the floor, Tomura was aching. With a scowl, he started stretching, cursing that he was out of shape after being on bedrest. 

 

The soft rush of air signaled Kurogiri’s arrival, a black portal opening to allow the bartender to step through, a tray with a glass of water and a dry towel held out.

 

“Any news, Kurogiri?”

 

“We have a lead on Stain. He recently crippled a hero in Hosu. According to his recorded habits, he will stay in the district for at least another week. Possibly more.”

 

As Tomura pondered this, he sipped at the water, before setting it down. “Good. We need a recruit with reputation. Begin searching for him in the city.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Tomura turned away from the growing piles of ash and dust that were once the Nomu-clones, and he let a manic grin cross his face. “The Zergling rush failed. Now the genre is team building. Portal to my room.”

 

As a black warp-gate appeared, he barely slowed his steps.

 

Behind him, Kurogiri could only sigh.

 

“So much more mature then he once was, and he still didn’t even clean up his mess.”

 

With a wave of his hand, black smoke swept the room of dust, before Kurogiri also left.

 

---

Then

Izuku shattered the last of the goo-frozen mimics with a swing of his wrench, and staggered to a stop, breathing heavily.

 

“I really like this gun.”

 

He lifted the GLOO gun and checked it’s gauge. He had used the entire canister he started with, but it had been worth it. Each of the Mimics he ran across was turned to statues waiting to be smashed and shattered. It hadn’t been perfect. The gun wasn’t the most accurate weapon, and had a bad drop, but it worked.

 

Even on mimics hiding as objects!

 

As he stood in the cleared out foyer of the Neuromod Division, his comm channel opened once more, January’s familiar voice ringing out.

 

“Good work, Midoriya. There's something you need here. There, up on the display, is a Neuromod. Normally it’s a fake, but it’s been swapped for a real one. You need to use it, you won’t survive the coming trials without them.”

 

Izuku turned and looked around before figuring out what exactly January meant.

 

Up on the walkway was a display case.

 

Izuku popped off the empty GLOO canister and replaced it, before walking up the stairs.

 

As he got closer, he could see it. A skull sat propped up on a metal stand, clearly supported by metal pins, and with an injector of some sort… Pressed to the eye socket.

 

Izuku barely looked at it before he felt another flash of pain, seared through his skull.

 

“Shit, what the hell?”

 

He looked up, but January wasn’t talking.

 

For a long moment he hesitated. 

 

But in the end he took a breath, gritted his teeth, and pulled the injector from the display, turning it over in his hand. The side had simple instructions. Line up until it locks, breath in, and then pull the trigger. It would auto adjust to eye orientation.

 

The purple container had a label as well.

 

Neuromod ID; IM-14-Security

 

Izuku could only stare at it for a minute. Weighing his options.

 

With a deep, shuddering breath, he made his choice.

 

He lifted the injector up and slowly braced it against his right eye, gently shifting it until it seemed to latch on.

 

Inside, a small indicator light flashes green, a ring of yellow dots surrounding it centered over his eye..

 

This was it.

 

No going back.

 

“Please don’t kill me or blind me.”

 

Izuku pulled the trigger, and with a flash, two needles slid into his skull.

 

And then, he remembered.

Chapter 45: Journal Entry

???

He had spent almost a day and a half so far just learning how the circuitry and various components worked, dodging and sneaking past phantoms and mimics as he worked his way through the administrative computers, hunting for anything that would tell him what the hell was going on here.

 

Izuku crouched under a desk, fingers drawing along the fake wood paneling, before his nails caught on the almost imperceptible seam. 

 

There. 

 

The screwdriver in his pocket came up, and he slowly wedged it into the gap, before with a twist of his wrist the panel fell away...

 

Revealing the circuitry for the computer on the desk.

 

Sliding the screwdriver back into the pocket, he pulled out a pair of slender copper needles, connected with a short length of wire.

 

Reaching up, he slowly traced across the circuit, before finding what he was looking for. He idly named the rest of the components as he traced past them, identifying and discarding each one as unimportant, until he had the ones he needed; the power controller for the board, and the remote access circuit.

 

Fun fact: the remote access circuit keeps a flash memory of the last code it used successfully to compare to the authorization code used to trigger it. It means that only someone with the head of security’s transcribe could use the remote access to interface the computer from somewhere else. But, if you had your own transcribe set to record signals, and held it close while triggering the remote circuit…

 

One needle connected to the power contact, and the other needle found its way to the circuit.

 

With a gentle tap of the contacts, the board gave a beep, and Izuku watched the screen of his Transcribe flicker, recording the code that was sent.

 

A moment to check and Izuku smiled.

 

The code’s ID came back as ‘Sarah Elazar: Security Lead’

Holding his transcribe up higher, he tapped the option to broadcast that signal. A split second later, another beep echoed from above him, at the computer screen, and a third came from the safe in the back of the security office.

 

Izuku grinned, and slid from under the desk.

 

The greatest flaw to any security system: Comfort and Accessibility.

 

Just like that, the unlock signal had been sent to the safe, and the computer had skipped past its usual opening sequence.

 

Flipping to sit on the chair, Izuku started typing.

 

“Right. Let’s see what secrets you’ve got, Miss Elazar….”

---

Then

With a gasp, Izuku felt the needle recede, eye watering with the pain of feeling it slide past the edge of his eye socket.

 

The memory… that was his memory.

 

And not just the moment, that single hack into a single computer console.

 

It was information . The memory of hacking into that security office had been the peak of dozens of smaller moments. Door panels, hallway lights, security turrets and floating operator drones.

The slow build up of information layers. How to bypass digital door codes by shorting out the motivator for the door lock with a bundle of wires and a few metal probes. Common places to hunt for passcodes.

 

But that wasn’t it.

 

There was one more fragment of memory, a thought buried in the rest.

 

A random musing that got picked up. 

 

‘Right, round fourteen. Lets go.’

 

This wasn’t his first run .

 

And he wasn’t sure what run it was.

 

And… he didn’t remember any of it. He barely knew anything that was going on. 

 

As the now empty Neuromod dropped from the injector, and the injector itself collapsed into a smaller form, Izuku slid it into his pocket.

 

He glanced back, and headed for the security booth near where he had gotten the GLOO gun. Pausing near it, he focused, trying to sort his memories until…

 

There.

 

The panel under the hologram was clicked free, and a screwdriver and a piece of wire came out.

 

A few seconds of adjustment and he slid the wire into place where his memories guided him.

 

A whirr and click, and the door cracked open, before sparking slightly.

 

‘Too much current, unlocked it but blew one of the door actuators.’

 

Izuku lifted his wrench, wedged it in the crack in the door, and levered it open, hearing the faint whirr and grinding of gears as he shoved the door wide.

 

With a sigh, he was in.

 

The booth was mostly disappointing, though he did find a box of pistol ammo, and another of shotgun ammo, both half empty. The more important find was the presence of a security terminal.

 

‘Stationwide tracking network and map data.’

 

The information made him blink, even as his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

 

Tapping the holographic keys woke the screen up. Password. Right.

 

Glancing around he looked under the desk, before pulling at the rest of the booth, rifling around books and files.

 

Nothing.

 

Great, he didn’t have the tools to break into a security terminal yet.

 

Sighing, he tapped at the screen and put it back to sleep.

 

There would be another one… somewhere.

 

Lifting the GLOO gun from where it hung at his side, Izuku checked its ammo count, and moved on.

 

As he headed for the door out of the Neuromod Division, he almost jumped.

 

Another call was coming through.

 

“You’ve integrated the Neuromod successfully. Now, are you ready for the first real view of the world?”

 

The door opened and Izuku stepped out, walking past another desiccated corpse, and rounded a corner.

 

And slowed to a stop.

 

‘That's… The moon.’

 

He just… kept walking. Moving out onto the landing, looking out at the window.

 

A massive bay window, looking up and out.

 

In front of it, just down and to the left, was the moon.

 

But past it, cast half in shadow…

 

Was Home.

 

Earth.

 

Izuku couldn’t help the ache in his chest at the sight of it.

 

As he stepped closer, January continued.

 

“ I’m sorry Izuku. You’ve been aboard the station for a long time…. There’s a video you need to see. Come up to the office on the third floor. I’ve updated your map.”

 

As he heard the ping of his Transcribe, Izuku couldn’t tear his gaze from the planet.

 

At least, not until a section of the ship to the far left of the window exploded in a burst of decompression.

 

With a curse, and one last look at the planet floating quietly in the distance, Izuku started heading towards the map marker.

 

He needed answers.

---

Now

The impact caught him across braced arms, the force great enough to send him sliding back.

 

He didn’t get a chance to recover, another strike following on the tails of the first.

 

And another.

 

His defense wasn’t enough. He was forced to fall back, the greater reach and mass of each hit keeping him from mustering a defense.

 

And the entire time, the booming voice rang out.

 

“-To a quirkless freak? Years of training, wasted. Because of some slack-jawed, traumatized little waste of flesh .”

 

Shoto slumped to the ground, warm blood seeping from a split lip and body aching with bruises.

 

This training session had gone on for three hours. 

 

As Endeavor stepped away, hands still clenched, the medic stepped forwards, gloves sliding from covered fingertips, letting the blank-faced medic rest them on Shoto’s cheek.

 

An uncomfortable heat spread across his skin, before it began to intensify. The medic’s quirk was forcing him to heal, weeks of slow healing condensed into seconds, but with all the pain that he would have felt over that time condensed into a searing pain that made him clench his teeth to stop from screaming.

 

“He’s healed.” the medic's cold voice broke through his thoughts.

 

“Good. Can he continue?”

 

Those burning hot fingers lifted his face, and he blinked trying to focus on the dark grey eyes and black haired medic.

 

“Hmmm… No. he’s reached his limit. Another healing would put him in a bed for several days. As it is, his body is already close to collapse.”

 

“Hmmmf.” Endeavor gave a hum of disapproval, before turning away. “Return to your room, Shoto. We’ll continue this another day.”

 

At the dismissal, Shoto staggered to his feet. While the bruising and injuries had been reduced and healed, the effects on his body were still present. He was light headed, feeling drawn and exhausted. Forcing himself to steady, he walked away.

 

He didn’t even know the medic’s name, only that she was hired by Endeavor directly and worked for his Agency.

 

As he moved out of the dojo and out of sight, his measured steps became closer to a stagger. 

 

He moved through the kitchen, snagging an apple and protein drink, before continuing to his room.

 

The distant hum of a TV was likely Fuyumi, but as Shoto finally closed his door, leaving him in his barren room, he finally let himself collapse, back to the wall as he slid into a sitting position.

 

Sips of the protein drink and bites of the apple were all he could truly focus on.

 

But as he slowly recovered, the aches and lingering pain fading slightly, he was left with his thoughts.

 

‘-you have a choice.’

 

The words had hit him, had dug into his head and wouldn’t leave, the press of the sword across his neck, and the rasp of Midoriya’s voice.

 

What was the right choice?

 

Crawling over to his futon, Todoroki lifted his phone from it’s charging port, and began to type.

 

‘Midoriya Izuku’

 

He paused for a second afterwards.

 

But he needed to know.

 

He tapped ‘search’

 

And began to learn.

 

---

 

Then

Izuku slowed, leaning against the edge of a doorway into what looked like a museum or history display next to the lobby. His eyes traced over the various displays, from uniforms to a scale model of the station. 

 

But his focus was on the tall figure pacing among the displays.

 

‘January called it a Phantom.’

 

Izuku watched it slowly, taking in the way that it swapped from slow steps to short flickering movements, hands tightening on the wrench and the slow hum of the stun gun charging.

 

He watched, waited, and when the phantom twisted to look over another display he moved.

 

The flat sprint was low and fast, the phantom still twisting to react and take in what was happening even as Izuku closed into range.

 

The stun gun came up, discharging just as he closed into melee range, sparks sending the phantom into confusion even as the wrench came around with crushing force, slamming into the alien’s leg and knee.

 

As it collapsed shaking and twitching, Izuku brought the wrench up and around, smashing once, twice, three times, four times , at the creature’s head and chest, black blood splattering around the impacts, tendrils twitching before falling limp.

 

Izuku slowed, the wrench still raised, as he waited, watching and listening.

 

Nothing.

 

Kicking the corpse one more time, it didn’t twitch, and Izuku gave a nod.

 

“Right, that works. Sweet.”

 

Glancing around, Izuku took in the various displays. 

 

Talos 1, the history of the space station. It was vaguely interesting, talking about how the point of ‘divergence’ in this story was around the end of the 20th century, at the Cold War. The space station was built to research something called the ‘Typhon’.

 

Aliens.

 

Izuku glanced down at the corpse of the phantom and gave a sigh, before he looked up at another display.

 

Another Neuromod display.

 

Reaching up, he pulled the purple canister from the display, and turned it in his hand.

 

Neuromod ID; IM-6-Melee

 

He was tempted to use it right off the bat, but he hesitated.

 

And that’s when the sound of something clattering out in the lobby broke him of his musing.

 

Right, he wasn’t safe. Pause the experimentation until he isn’t surrounded by aliens who can look like anything.

 

Checking the charge in his stun gun Izuku reoriented on his objective, and got going.

---

Now

Momo stretched slightly, arms behind her back as she looked around the street. Izuku and Kyouka were sitting at her sides, Izuku adjusting the straps of his new violin case to rest comfortably against the sword on his back.

 

Turning, Momo couldn’t help a smile.“So, what’s next?”

 

“Uhh… I don't know. Lunch?” Kyouka tugged slightly on an ear jack, biting her lips slightly as she started considering where to go next.

 

Izuku also seemed slightly off guard, and looked around, reaching up to tug at his face mask slightly.

 

“We could get food and then visit a park? I heard there was one not far from here.” 

 

As her two friends considered it, Momo felt the faint and familiar pulse of anxiety. The uncertainty that came with trying to be friends with people.

 

Izuku bumped her arm as he shrugged, adjusting his jacket. “Sure, sounds fun.”

“There’s an okay sandwich place not far from here.” Jirou chimed in, stepping to the other side of her as they all started walking.

 

Momo blinked, feeling her train of thought derail, before she caught the slight glance from Jirou.

 

Of course. Her friends were some of the most perceptive people around.

 

She was fine!

 

As she relaxed, the anxiety passing her by, the three headed to get lunch.

 

Unseen to Momo or Kyouka, however, was the glance Izuku threw back, looking down the street to catch a glimpse of an older man with a camera lens in the palm of his hand half a block away.

 

The one who had been following them ever since the train station.

 

The one following Momo.

---

Then

Izuku took a second to discard a battery, before he reloaded the stun gun with a new one.

 

There had been a pair of mimics hiding outside the museum.

 

Clicking the battery closed on the stun gun, Izuku started walking up the stairwell, before slowing to a stop.

 

Above him, on the second flight of stairs, leading to the next landing…

 

A trashcan was rolling down the steps, the metal can clanging and bouncing one by one.

 

Izuku tracked it with his eyes, watching as it rolled to a stop next to him, before looking back up.

 

He could barely make out another trash can at the next landing.

 

With a stomp, Izuku crumpled the trash can at his side, before pacing up the steps, stun gun charging in his off-hand.

 

At the top, he fired at the other trash can, watching it shift into a thrashing, twitching mimic, just in time for his wrench to slam it into the metal of the railing, nearly breaking the mass of black tendrils in half.

 

As it slumped back still writhing, Izuku’s boot slammed into it, and finished it off.

 

Glancing around the landing, Izuku paused when he saw that to the left was the Trauma Ward, while the right was a boarded-off breakroom.

 

For a long moment, Izuku considered the trauma room door, reaching up to- a flash of heat, of pain … before sighing and starting back up the stairs to another floor. He did not like the feeling he was getting from that door.

 

‘I’ll come back to that later. When I know what the fuck is going on.’

 

The top landing was empty, a locked doorway to ‘Teleconferencing’ on the left, and an open door to the Executive offices on the right.

 

And his map was pointing at the Executive Offices.

 

Stepping through the door he slowed, and paused, eyes locked on a turret mounted just before the doors to the head office.

 

The head office, if the plaque reading ‘Morgan Yu: VP Director Of Research’ meant anything.

However, below that… a smaller one reading ‘Midoriya Izuku: Prime Subject.’

---

Now

Tokuda Taneo was a career investigative reporter. He’d spent years tracking down Heroes and Villains, investigating scandals and crimes and grand mysteries. So when the entirety of the Japanese media went insane over the newest class of UA Heroics, he got curious. By that, he meant that his boss, the editor-in-chief of Juzo News, insisted he start looking into the class.

 

While most of his coworkers focused in on the green-haired teen who was the survivor of a kidnapping and torture, he had focused more on the bigger picture.

The rest of the top four. 

 

Todoroki Shoto, Son of Endeavor, number two hero, and second place in the sports festival. The teen’s performance had been overwhelming and viscous, but also... unsettling. 

 

Sadly, any attempt to get close would be trampled and locked down by Endeavor’s lawyers.

So he went to the next.

Bakugou Katsuki, tied for third place. His parents were a model and a fashion designer, and he was apparently a childhood friend of Midoriya Izuku… Interesting. Sadly, he had most of his personal information secure and private, off the public record. While Taneo planned to look into him eventually, he didn’t have an easy lead.

 

But he did for his third choice.

 

Yaoyorozu Momo, heir apparent to the Yaoyorozu Conglomerate, an investing and management firm specializing in pro-hero services. 

 

And also the one who fought Midoriya in the semi-finals.

 

Unlike Bakugou, her information was publicly available, as part of her family's public relations and accountability initiative.

It was only a matter of hours to track down her address and ask an associate to keep an eye out. And then, only a day later, she headed out into the city.

 

He managed to catch up not far into her trip, finding her, accompanied by a classmate, near a subway station. 

 

Then it was merely a matter of waiting until she was free for a quick introduction.

 

As the two girls were joined by a third friend, one he didn’t recognize at first glance, he had gotten a coffee.

 

As they entered a music store he got a late breakfast, sitting at an outdoor cafe not far from their place, a lens forming on his neck to keep an eye on their direction.

 

And as they left, he followed.

 

He would be the first to admit he wasn’t paying too much attention. Yaoyorozu was more an excuse to waste time while keeping his editor off his back. He would follow her for a few hours, get some soundbites and ask a few questions when he had a free moment, then hopefully convince his boss to lay off and let him get to another investigation while one of his less argumentative coworkers took over for this gossip rag fodder.

 

What he wasn’t expecting when he followed the three teens towards a small park was to end up with his ass on the ground, back to a tree, and a knife sticking out of the bark next to his ear, with a green-haired teen staring down at him.

 

The two girls were standing back, holding the lunches the three had picked up, while Midoriya Izuku gave him a look that would, and likely could, kill. The teens mask and beanie pulled away to reveal his expression.

 

“Can… we help you?” Midoriya drawled, crouching slightly, one arm braced on his knee, and eyes a dark green that seemed to stare into Taneo’s soul. “Because, correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’ve been following my lovely friend here for most of the morning.”

 

Taneo found his voice, and his courage. “I’m Tokuda Taneo, reporter with the Juzo News network.”

 

Midoriya gave a slight frown. Barely more than a twitch of his lips, but Taneo felt his heart tighten at the palpable sense of annoyance that swamped him.

 

“A reporter. What, did you decide not to hunt me down, so you went after my friend?”

 

“Not… exactly?”

 

Green eyes gave a slow blink, clearly waiting for an explanation, and so Taneo started talking. “My boss wants me to jump on the Sports Festival and it’s major players, you in particular. However, the cold shoulder that you’ve given the mess of reporters and gossips going after you for your comments led me to look into the other semi-finalists! Miss Yaoyorozu was merely the easiest to track down.”

 

Midoriya’s eyes didn’t waver, but as Taneo winded down his explanation, he glanced back. “What do you think, Momo? Want to talk to the fine reporter?”

 

The tall young woman pursed her lips, before sighing. A flicker of her quirk, barely visible under the sleeves of her long sweater, and she held out a professional business card and stepped forwards. “This is the number for my family's PR division. If you wish to interview me you must go through them, something you would know if you had spent even a modicum of time trying to contact me. Now, my friends and I are going to enjoy a pleasant evening. Please leave.”

 

Taneo took the card with a hand that was trembling ever so slightly.

 

He froze, his blood running cold as Midoriya moved, reaching out past his face to grip the knife and pull it from the bark with a slow motion, revealing that what the reporter had thought to be merely a few centimeters long, was actually a knife nearly the length of his hand from fingertips to wrist, and had been buried halfway up the blade in the tree.

 

With a snap, it folded closed and Midoriya stepped back, sliding it into a pocket.

 

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Tokuda.”

 

The three teens walked into the park, quickly leaving the view of the reporter.

 

It was almost two minutes before he recovered his calm enough to stand.

 

With quick and hurried steps, he headed for the subway station, contact card held tight in his grip.

 

But he had taken several pictures, the framing of the young man front and center making him seem larger than life, nearly overwhelming with his focus, the two women flanking his image giving him a striking air of gravitas.

 

He wasn’t going to pass this off to another reporter anymore.

 

He was going to look into this story himself. 

 

The right way.

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the office, the large window behind him looking out over the lobby he had passed through, the high angle giving him a glimpse of another Phantom stalking through the tables and chairs, but before him, two desks were placed. One, set in the center of the room, with the plaque ‘Morgan Yu’ had a computer and a series of trophies and small keepsakes on it.

 

But closer, just to the side of the door, was another.

 

Izuku stepped forward, picking up the plaque and running a thumb along the engraved words. First was his name in romaji, but with the kanji set to the end. He glanced at the computer on what was apparently his desk, but ignored it for the moment.

 

Instead he walked around the room, looking at pictures and books on the walls, glancing at the two large machines flanking a small work space in an alcove.

 

As he rounded behind the desk for Morgan Yu, the screen flashed.

 

‘Play me.’

 

And a command. 

 

[Activate Looking Glass Terminal]

 

Reaching out, he tapped it.

 

The window overlooking the lobby had shutters slide down, blocking out the rest of the station as the lights dimmed.

 

But behind him, the wall rose up.

 

And revealed a screen.

 

White Digital space, clearly marked and delineated by bright lines and grey surfaces.

 

Izuku blinked, taking in the blue ‘loading’ window, the floating ‘T’ of Transtar Industries floating above and behind it. 3D imaging in what looked like a 2D format.

 

As the loading bar filled, the white and grey surface became… Defined.

 

Floors flickered into view, first just black squares, then tiles, laminate flooring, a chair.

 

A blue wall with a white ring light, recording devices and monitors…

 

And the chair that had been right outside the simulation room.

 

The one that gave him a bad feeling.

 

And before that, a stool, a deactivated Operator.

 

And with the final flicker, two figures.

 

One, an older man, face with short stubble and a sharp jaw, his name tag reading Y. Morgan. He was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed.

 

But sitting in the stool, leaning forwards with his arms planted on his knees, skin covered in bruises…

 

Dark green hair hung in loose waves around a freckled face, dark green eyes looked out from a face that now had a sharper jawline. The red and black suit, a shotgun hanging off his shoulder, and the handgun holstered at his side.

 

The visage of Midoriya Izuku leaned forwards, and smiled from inside the screen. “What’s one more shit day, right? If I’m gonna be stuck talking to myself, then it’s gotta be a bad one.”

 

He leaned back and sighed before looking out, eyes hovering almost at where Izuku was.

 

“Let’s do this right. My name is Midoriya Izuku. And this is run number three.”

 

The recorded teen gave a sharp smile, all mocking and self-depreciation and pain.

 

“And if you’re watching this, then we’ve fucked up. Again .”

Notes:

You know it's a bad day when you start talking to yourself.

Also, hey! it's been a hot minute since I've left an AN anywhere.

I'm alive, doing okay. Gonna be trying to do more HCDD, as well as doing some streaming of the LiD games over on my twitch, but no garuntee on those.

The current schedule that works is ever 2-3 week you'll get a bunch of updates, but consider that a 'nice idea'.

Anyway, have a nice Pi Day, and hope the world treats you all fine.

Chapter 46: Skill Trees

Summary:

The space station Talos One is familiar in the worst ways, but Izuku doesn't know why.

Thankfully, his reflection might.

Meanwhile, Izuku also has a picnic, and speaks about his past.

Then

“Our memory is probably shot right now, yeah? Things seem familiar, things don’t make sense, it feels… it probably feels like we’ve just started this run, doesn’t it?”

 

Izuku paced back and forth in front of the looking glass, eyes locked on his digital copy, staring straight ahead, at where the camera would have been.

 

“First things first, you should listen to January. Me and Morgan made him. He should be keeping track of what’s going on, and can guide you.”

 

As he watched, the screen glitched, the second figure, Morgan, vanishing. The Izuku in the recording was now leaning forwards as he began to explain, voice picking up speed as he got more and more visually invested, hands moving as he picked up pace.

 

“This section of the simulation is fucked, okay? It’s some sort of iteration based design. Every run affects the system, changes things. Different enemies, different gear, different locks and problems to solve. The last two runs ended with me dying because I couldn’t get past a door, or solve a coding issue. And beyond that, it keeps giving me these Neuromods, but they’re rare. It took the better part of the first run to find even a few, and they all seem… odd.” Izuku paused. “Artificial.” 

 

“Regardless, I’ve figured out how to progress the simulation, but it requires the guy who was here earlier. Morgan Yu. He’s a scientist, a doctor. I don’t know where he was hiding but if you get far enough, last long enough, then he’ll call you back to the Neuromod Labs. That's… where I am. He said I could record this, that the later versions of me, of us, would see them.”

 

The recorded Izuku gave a long look to the side, eyes focused, as he flexed his hands, the nails bitten and uneven.

 

He looked back.

 

“So, the core mechanic of Prey is -”

 

Suddenly, the screen glitched.

 

Red boxes flickered, the digital recreation turned into scrolling bars and lines.

 

[Looking Glass Server: Connection Lost]

 

Izuku swore, and turned away, even as the intercom on Morgan's desk turned on.

 

“I’m sorry, Midoriya. But you can’t watch that. Not yet.”

 

Izuku scowled even as he began to tap at the computer console.

 

“Alex. Nice of you to say hi.”

“You don’t understand what’s going on. Stay in that office.”

 

The call ended, and Izuku took a deep breath.

 

He was getting… Really annoyed.

 

There was a beep, and he looked to the side, to one of the devices in the office workshop.

 

From a tall machine, a compartment opened up, and an Operator floated out.

 

“It’s nice to see you again, Midoriya,”

 

The operator lowered slightly, it’s camera coming to rest at Izuku’s eye level.

“My name is January.”

 

Izuku suddenly recognized that voice.

 

It was his voice.

---

Now
Izuku breathed deeply, lying in the shadow of a tree on the blanket Momo had created for them all. 

 

With his eyes closed and his friends still eating, he focused on enjoying the scents of the world around him, grounding himself deep into reality after his confrontation with the reporter.

 

The jacket, unzipped and loose around him, held that familiar mix that he knew as ‘Dad’. Woodsmoke and cigarette smoke, aged leather and a touch of mint. Nearby he caught the scent of their food: burgers and fries and lemonade from a fastfood place. Beyond that, he could also sense the damp earth, bright flowers, and wood and dust smell of the park.

 

And then, backing it all, the slightly sweet scent of rot, mixed with the scent of fallen sakura petals that had been sitting under bushes for almost a month now. The low musk of animal life, of birds and squirrels and cats.

 

Things that the simulation could never simulate, that it would never take the time to process.

 

As the slight breeze settled, he could also catch the distinct scents he had come to associate with his friends.

 

Momo was vaguely metallic. A constant hint of something close to ozone lingering from her quirk use, a side effect of the light that her quirk produced. Beyond that was the scent of herbal green tea, of fresh paper and ink from thick books.

 

Jirou, at her side, had a more… woody scent. Wood and lacquer and slight traces of something that Izuku wanted to call vinyl? He recognized the scent now as that of musical instruments, her scent had blended with that of the instruments in the shop. But beneath that was something… different. A touch of lavender and leather, blended with something that also had the tracest amount of ozone.

 

As he relaxed, the silence was broken.

 

“Out of curiosity, Green. How many weapons do you even have?”

 

He heard Momo shift, clearly perking up at the idea.

 

Izuku didn’t open his eyes, humming slightly.

 

“On me right now, or in total?”

 

“On you right now, come on, show us what you’re carrying?”

 

Izuku’s lips twitched, and he stretched before pushing himself up, before opening his eyes.

 

“Okay, are we talking ‘This was designed as a weapon’ or ‘I can make this a weapon?’”

 

Momo gave a considering look, but Kyouka was faster.

 

“You grabbed it with the intent of it being a weapon.”

 

Izuku nodded. “Fair. Right, let’s start with the obvious one.” He gave a wave at the silk bundle that had been at his side, next to the violin case.

 

“Blight-Killer, my longsword.”

 

“Blight-Killer?” Momo couldn’t seem to help her perked up curiosity, and Izuku smiled slightly.

 

“Its color scheme reminded me of somewhere. And I named it for what I wanted to use it for.”

 

As the girls nodded, looking consideringly at the wrapped bundle, Izuku moved on, hand going to his leg, and pulling up the hem of his left pants leg. Doing so revealed a hunting knife that looked like something out of a survival movie tucked into his boot.

 

“First, hunting knife number one.”

 

The girls looked at the sheath around his leg with interest before he rolled his pant leg back down. Izuku started pulling his other knives out, setting them on the blanket. From his belt, tucked under his shirt and jacket, came a second hunting knife, smaller than the one in his boot.

 

“The second hunting knife, a pair of switchblades…” And those came from his jacket pockets.

 

At each new knife, the girls were looking more and more interested.

 

Izuku dug back into his jacket. “Thermite charges and plasma lighter, Sap, Paracord.”

 

They were set next to the knives.

 

“Uhhh… for things that aren’t directly a weapon, but I took and would use as one. We have a road flare, a few lengths of wire.” with most of his pockets empty, Izuku started unwinding his black hand wrapping. “And this very nice silk ribbon, which comes with…” he drew the word out even as he found it. A thick black coin shape that had the ribbon threaded through it. “A weight, so I can use it as a meteor hammer or just tie someone down with it.”

 

Jirou shifted through the weapons with awe. “Holy shit, what are you expecting to fight?”

 

“Ehhh… I’m a high risk person. More than a few people would want to see me locked up somewhere. Or killed.”

 

Momo looked up from the thermite charges with a frown. “Because of the simulations?”

 

Izuku felt his smile fade.

 

For all that they were his friends. Kyouka and Momo, Koda… Bakugou…

 

He had never gotten into what exactly happened. 

 

They had hinted that they were aware, had given him searching looks and occasional comments that let him know that they knew.

 

But they hadn’t… talked about it.

 

“Yeah. Because of the Simulations.”

 

As he picked up one of the switchblades, he flicked it open, the blade sliding free with a snap as the spring loading sent it out. He started twirling it around his fingers almost absently, watching the light catch on the metal.

 

Jirou reached out, slowly resting her hand on his knee.

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Green. Anything you don’t want us to do? Sounds, touches…” she frowned. “Any subjects to avoid?”

 

Izuku let the blade spin to a stop, before spinning it back the other way, keeping silent as he considered her question.

 

“There's…. a few things, I guess.”  he finally murmured, knowing the two would hear him. “Don’t rush at me if it’s not an emergency. Hugs are… okay? Just don’t surprise me with them. Avoid mentioning…” Izuku paused and considered how to convey his disdain for…  “That bastard son of a disease ridden whore Sugoh. If I’m dissociating and need some space I'm fairly good at letting you know. If I think of anything else, or learn something new, I’ll tell you.”

 

Kyouka and Momo nodded, though Jirou looked almost amused at his epitaph for Sugoh.

 

“Of course, Izuku.”

 

“No problem, Green.”

 

At that, Izuku felt a soft warmth in his chest.

 

It was nice to have friends.

 

With a snap of his wrist he closed the knife.

---

Then

“How the hell do I fix the terminal, January.” Izuku asked, hands on the computer as he tapped through menus and email, scanning them for keywords and important tidbits.

 

“The Looking Glass Servers are located in the Hardware Labs. Updating your Transcribe with its location now.”

 

At that his Transcribe beeped, and Izuku slowed as he tapped through the last of the emails.

“So, what exactly are you, January, and why are you using my voice?”

“My creation was spearheaded by Morgan Yu and a previous Iteration of yourself. It was decided that for ease of use, your voice would be the optimal choice in order to convince you to trust me.”

 

“Fun.” Izuku drawled, even as he logged out of the computer. “You have anything else to tell me?”

 

“There is, in fact. If you open your Transcribe you’ll notice there is a tracker, linked to your earpiece’s monitoring systems.” As Izuku pulled out his transcribe he blinked, seeing a new icon appear. “Previous iterations of yourself had a degree of mental degradation from Neuromod Exposure. This tracker should keep track of mental degradation.”

 

Izuku tapped the icon, eyes taking in a diagram of his brain with colored markings across the image.

 

Neurological Integrity: 98.34% 

Neuromod Stability: High

 

Izuku gave a frown, before closing the transcribe, sliding it back into a pocket.

 

“Right, are we done here?” 

 

As the Operator gave a negative sounding beep and floated away, Izuku gave a long blank look, before grumbling as he turned back to the desk. Rummaging through the drawers, he found… a third Neuromod.

 

Lifting the purple fluid, he looked for the label.

 

Neuromod ID; IM-2-Repair

 

That was two Neuromods he hadn’t used. Repair and Melee.

 

Frowning, he looked around before stepping up to lock the office door, then sat at his desk.

 

“Right. Better to do this now than later.”

 

He pulled out the Neuromod injector, and took a deep, slow breath to steady himself.

 

First.. Melee.

 

He raised the injector up and slid it into place, eye staring into the orange light of the injector.

 

And then-

 

Memories came rushing back once more.

---

Now

As the second day of the three day break passed, Nedzu was in his office, sorting through the first waves of paperwork and internship offers from the Heroics Community, a fresh cup of tea set at his side.

 

‘Hawks has offered an Internship… Likely driven by the demands of the HPSC considering the young man's demeanor. Requesting Tokoyami Fumikage, which is an interesting pick; but then he had an impressive performance. Approved.’

 

The vast majority of offers were approved with little to no hassle. But as he kept sorting through he pulled several others aside for further consideration.

 

Todoroki Shoto had more offers than any other student this semester, his powerful quirk placing him firmly in the lead for requests. Among them, was an offer from his father, Endeavor. One he was hesitant to approve considering what his recording software had caught in the back corridors of the Sports Festival.

 

However, while he could counsel Aizawa to advise the younger Todoroki against such an internship… Outright blocking such an offer would cause more turmoil then it would prevent.

 

He reluctantly approved it, and moved on.

 

Bakugou Katsuki was second, as Nedzu expected, but most of his offers were clearly attempts by younger and less popular heroes going after the ‘Second pick’ of the festival.

 

Most of them were approved with the expectation that Bakugou would be uninterested, though the top three that came up were intriguing in their own rights.

 

Best Jeanist, Endeavor and Gang Orca.

 

Best Jeanist was an obvious choice. The top ten were always looking for internships that fit their designs and the fiber using hero was known for taking on and offering control lessons for the more… volatile of students. 

 

Gang Orca was another clear cut choice. The hero knew the use of anger and aggression in combat, and would be an obvious choice merely for the ability to relate to the explosive teen on his own terms.

 

But once again, Endeavor is a problem. The Flame Hero is likely only interested in Bakugou to further his own goals, likely by leveraging his growing rivalry with the younger Todoroki.

 

‘Hmmm. I am quite disappointed in you Enji. There is no subtlety in your plans.’

 

Signing the last request for Bakugou, Nedzu moved to the third, and smallest, stack he had set aside.

 

‘Midoriya Izuku…’

 

The stack had been higher when it came in the night before. But with the news cycle came emails, phone calls, requests being cancelled in the name of ‘Common Sense’ and ‘Public Relations’. From over seven hundred offers that had been sent in, the number had dropped to just under three hundred.

 

Among the cancelled offers was even one from the current number 8 hero, Yoroi Musha. Nedzu wasn’t surprised at the backlash, the slowly spreading news articles and investigative reports on Midoriya were generating a… rather unpleasant view of the young man.

 

But, there was more than one top ten hero asking for Midoriya,

 

‘Number 7, The Rabbit Hero Mirko.’

 

The bunny heroine had never taken an intern personally, the younger woman confidently and publicly a solo fighter. Even her support team was focused mainly on the technical and information gathering side of things, not even registering as an agency, so much as a support company hired by the heroine.

 

Nedzu had always found her to be a refreshing character, blunt and brash, but with a cunning intellect and heightened sense of tactical understanding. She had never been one of his students, sadly, but each time they crossed paths for one reason or another he had been quite content to watch her disrupt the status quo. Even now, she was the highest ranking female hero in Japan, with Ryuko, the current number 9 hero, as the second highest.

 

Nedzu couldn’t help but grin at the independent heroine asking after Midoriya.

 

It was unexpected, unforeseen before now, but all too easy to understand looking back.

 

The sheer presence of both of them, the intensity with which they both acted. It was a stunningly complex parallel. And with her being so high ranked, the prestige would hopefully lend Midoriya legitimacy among the community.

 

With a smile, Nedzu signed off on it.

 

With all his paperwork now complete for the internships, he glanced at the clock.

 

“And finished. Wonderful.” Nedzu celebrated with a slow sip of his tea, still steaming hot, but cooled enough to be enjoyable from when he poured it before he began.

The clock showed that not even five minutes had passed.

 

‘Ah, the sweet benefits of High-Specs.’

---

Then

Izuku blinked, watching as a drop of blood dropped onto his desk, the two now empty neuromod canisters stacked to the side, the injector once more closed up and set aside.

 

Closing his eyes, ignoring the wetness along his right eyelid, he focused on the new… or perhaps old memories.

 

The weight of the wrench as he crushed another mimic, before ducking the swing of a Phantom, moving with grace as he twisted around the outstretched limb, wrench swinging back-

 

Electricity sparked, curses leaving his lips as he stripped a wire with his teeth, working to rewire the relay even as the door at his side remained locked-

 

A punch that cracked against black flesh-

 

Whirring motors as an Operator came back to life, freshly repaired.

 

As the memories began to realign, he blinked, another drop of blood hitting the table as he checked on his Transcribe.

 

Neurological Integrity: 92.13% 

Neuromod Stability: Moderate.

 

Sliding it back into his pocket, Izuku pushed up from his desk taking a moment for his mild headache to fade, ignoring the scattered drops of blood as he headed for the door quietly, his wrench now feeling all too familiar in his grip. Reaching up, he wiped the streak of blood from his eye.

 

But as he passed by the window overlooking the lobby, he caught his reflection.

 

And the red streak of drying blood that stretched down from his right eye, a bright mark against pale skin and freckles.

 

With his wrench in hand, he went up the stairwell, a badge from the office in his hand as he unlocked the conference room on the top floor.

 

Another desiccated corpse greeted him, arms splayed across the floor.

 

Reaching for the object that was right before him.

 

Crouching down, Izuku curled his hand around the pistol, lifting it with a faint smirk, examining the gleaming blue-grey metal as he familiarized himself with it.

 

Unlike the revolvers of Sevastopol, this was a magazine fed handgun. As he twisted it around, hand coming to rest on the handle, the back of the slide lit up, revealing a small screen showing the number ‘10’.

 

Checking the magazine, Izuku grinned.

 

“Ammo counter. Useful.”

 

Sliding the magazine back, Izuku was about to reach for the body, eyeing the holster on it’s hip, when he froze.

 

‘Something moved.’

 

It was the corner of his eye, half hidden by the table, but something had changed.

 

Standing up straight, Izuku clicked the safety off on the handgun, taking a step forwards as he raised the weapon, his left hand with the wrench held tightly as he braced his aiming hand.

 

He listened, eyes roaming the room as he took in the various books and chairs and lamps.

 

And found one out of place. 

 

There were five lamps around the table. Four of them were pushed aside, nestled in each corner… and one that wasn’t in a corner, but was off center of the middle.

 

Where there shouldn’t be one.

 

Izuku took aim, breathing slowly as he lined up his shot.

 

A muffled crack rang out, the lamp being blown back in a spray of black limbs-

 

And three more mimics rushed him from around the conference room table.

 

Izuku stepped forwards, gun and wrench ready to meet them.

 

The first lept from the table’s edge, jumping across the gap with thrashing limbs.

 

The second was right behind it skittering over the floor like a massive spider, the subtle tensing of its limbs suddenly registering as an obvious tell that it was going for his legs, preparing to lash out.

 

The third was circling, trying to flank.

 

That third one got shot first, his gun tracking its movements even as Izuku stepped past the thrashing airborne Mimic, letting it slam into the door behind him even as he drew back and kicked the second where it was coming at him. As it got punted across the room he fired a round into the third mimic which was now frantically trying to close in, before turning to unload one on the first.

 

As the first mimic died, the second and thirds finally closed back in.

 

The wrench met them. 

 

Limbs splattered across the floor from brutal strikes, his fist back handing lunging attacks aimed for his head as the gun’s handle was used to pistol whip the other.

 

It was a frantic thirty seconds of heavy blows and impacts, but as the last mimic collapsed with a squelch of his boot, he couldn’t help a breathy chuckle.

 

‘That’s way easier when you know what you’re doing.’

 

The Melee Neuromod wasn’t just memories of fighting, though it did have those.

 

At it core was something different.

 

Muscle memory.

 

The knowledge of how to make a punch count.

 

Now, where's the other hallway towards the hardware labs...

---

Now

The beep of the alarm system being disengaged marked Izuku’s return home. As the system disarmed itself, he reached up and began to undo his disguise. The simple face mask was pulled off and folded, along with the beanie. He set them down next to the door, before adding a switchblade under the small stack of cloth.

 

As he moved further into the apartment, he lost more parts of his disguise.

 

His father’s leather jacket, still loaded with a knife and enough explosives and thermite to crack a safe hung off the wall hook. His red boots were set under them, on the mat next to his mothers dressier shoes and a pair of old red hightops. The pins in his hair were removed, letting thick green curls loose from their bun, the sharpened tips of the pins ignored as they were set in the bathroom, in a slowly growing pile of hair ties.  

 

By the time he reached his room, he was stripping the silk bag from his sword, folding it gently to set on a shelf he had cleared for weapon maintenance. His whetstone ring, a stack of actual whetstones, and the various other harnesses and bags for his weapons were stacked neatly. Next to the blade care was a kit designed more for his firearms, oil and rags next to cleaning rods and a small tool kit.

 

He would have to add some violin maintenance tools at some point. Possibly a better toolkit for his computer work.

 

Filing the thought aside, he continued disarming himself. The sword itself went back into the case under his bed, leaving him with only a knife at his back and another in his boot, but there were other weapons throughout the apartment.

 

But, clear of most of his gear, Izuku couldn’t help but feel that constant buzzing of conflict fade slightly. The remaining hum of anxious and aggressive energy that he was so used to, that sat near his heart and along his spine.

 

Booting up his computer and logging in, Izuku spent the time it was loading his various firewalls and security software (long since edited to his personal specifications) opening the violin case, leaving it sitting on his bed.

 

The wood of the instrument was dark spruce, the whorls and lines packed tight and stained dark with varnish, with lacquer over the top. The bridge was pitch black, only broken by the gleaming silver of the strings as they stretched over it. The chin rest was a matching black, lined with a pale silver color, and the ‘F’ holes revealed the interior to be only slightly brighter.

 

As Izuku lifted it from the case, he ran his fingers across it gently, taking in the gleaming edge to the dark wood, the way it reflected and refracted light across itself.

 

Setting the violin down gently, he turned back to his computer, and typed in his first search.

 

‘Violin for Starters.’

 

As he began to click through links and read, and then to lift the violin and test and practice, fingers slowly and carefully touching the strings, he could feel the tension draining from his body.

 

Hound Dog was right, he did need a hobby.

---

Then

Izuku ducked back behind a corner, a sparking ball of yellow plasma splashing against the wall opposite him as he cursed.

 

Popping back out, he fired the Gloo Gun one handed, the machine’s recoil messing up his aim. Still, enough of the white foam splattered across the phantom standing at the end of the hall that it slowed, twisting and cracking against the gloo even as Izuku lowed the Gloo gun, letting it hang from the strap he had hooked to it, and raised the handgun, keeping it straight and level with his left hand as he lined up his shots.

 

Bullets cracked and ripped through the Gloo’d alien flesh, before a final shot hit something important, sending it reeling back. A heavy stomping of black flesh later, and breathing heavily, Izuku glanced at the ammo count for the handgun, frowning as it read only ‘2’. He had used several shots on a pair of mimics before the phantom, but that was still most of a magazine for a single enemy. 

 

The wrench was more efficient, but the phantoms were fast. They covered grounds in short dashes, seeming to warp somewhat, before reorienting on Izuku. The plasma blasts at least had a build up, the yellow tinged electrical currents and gas visually distinct against the black of the Typhon flesh. The cycle he had figured out was to Stun or Gloo them if he got a chance, and then soften them up with the handgun before finishing with the wrench.

 

Mimics were much weaker. Only a few shots would kill them, and if they were disguised they were even weaker. Something about that dragged a thought from his memories, something he was fairly certain was from the melee Neuromod. 

 

‘When they disguise themselves they become more fragile. Kinetic force does more damage, because they can’t react and flex around the impacts.’

 

As Izuku stepped over the body, he glanced around, seeing the rounded bulkhead that the phantom had been lurking in front of.

 

Hardware Labs

 

Humming, he paused and looked out over the lobby, glancing at the door towards the Neuromod Division, and then tracing the sightline out the window… below him.

 

“Right. This is the part of the station that fucking exploded earlier…”

 

He gave a deep sigh, before taking a moment to reload all of his gear.

 

Satisfied he was ready for a fight, he tapped the door controls, and with a hiss the bulkhead opened.

---

Now

Akaguro Chizome gazed out over the back streets and alleys of Hosu. The distant lights of the market district, of the high rise towers and expensive apartments and hotels that shone with that ever present waste. A visible representation of the rich and famous .

 

It made him sick.

 

The fakes were out in force. The maiming of Ingenium had finally kicked the hive enough that the more famous of the Heroes were now aiming to take him in.

Endeavor would be in town in days, and already dozens of heroes and sidekicks were trying to get set up, to organize their search.

 

And it was so easy to bypass, the heroes ongoing blind worship of fame and the rankings making them predictable.

 

They didn’t post up around the slums, around the edges of the city, around the bridges out of Hosu.

 

They gathered like moths to a flame, taking up positions around the important places. The rich places.

 

And here Chizome was, perched in plain sight, but unmolested-

 

‘Perhaps I spoke too soon.’ he mused as he turned towards the center of the roof.

 

The air in the center of the gravel roof was disturbed, shifted and twisted with a rush of wind as a spiral of black and purple mist formed and then began widening. It was at a distance, far enough that Stain was out of melee reach.

 

“Stain, The Hero Killer.”

 

Chizome rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, narrowed eyes locked on the portal even as a form began to step through.

 

Black cargo pants and high laced red and grey boots stepped through, the mist parting as the movement carried the rest of the figure through. Tight grey fabric covered the figure's torso, two hands seemingly grasping around its waist. More hands lined its arms, one held on each shoulder and another stretched over and around each wrist almost like manacles.

 

Two more were wrapped around the figure’s neck, and a final one was grasping around pale skin, covering his right eye, but not the spreading black scars and raised skin that stretched from under the fingers.

 

The remaining eye, a gleaming dark red like aged wine, stared out.

 

“Or perhaps, you would prefer Stendhal?” 

 

Stain sneered. 

 

“Stendhal is dead. His conviction was weak.”

 

Chizome wasn’t a fool. He recognized this figure. Shigaraki, the leader and frontline combatant of the League Of Villains. 

 

Shigaraki gave a shallow nod, eye locked on him. “I would like to make an offer. One I believe you would find… suitable for your cause.

 

Stain had considered him a weakling, someone with no true conviction.

 

But standing there, his back to the swirling portal and gaze steady, he reconsidered.

 

‘Perhaps he does have conviction. This requires investigation.’

 

And as Shigaraki stepped aside, gesturing towards the portal behind him, Stain got a chance for just that.

 

‘Let’s test your mettle, Shigaraki Tomura. Lets see your Ideals. ’

Notes:

The characters are on the right tracks, spiraling into Hosu at full speed.

The city will remember them.

Will remember the bloodstains that linger from the following days.

Chapter 47: Nom De Guerre

Now
Stain stepped through the portal filled with tension. Every muscle was primed for violence, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of a knife at his side as his eyes glanced over the dark wood and brick walls of a nearly empty bar, occupied only by two other figures. Behind the counter, a man composed of black and purple mist inside a sleek tuxedo wiped the wooden surface, and at the far end of the bar a tall figure in a long black coat and hood nursed a tall glass of something dark colored.

 

As Shigaraki stepped out beside him, the younger man gestured for a table to the unoccupied side of the bar, two chairs set on either side of it. “Please, take a seat.”

 

The two sat across from each other, and Shigaraki gestured to the bartender. “Kurogiri. Water, please. And whatever our guest would like.”

 

Stain chanced a glance at the wall of bottles, and then back at his host. “Scotch, neat.”

 

The bartender gave a short bow, and within a minute, both drinks were resting on the table.

 

Stain had been taking the moment of silence to survey his surroundings. The bar was well worn, but not in a desolate kind of way. The wooden tables were marred with gouges and dark stains, but were free of dust or dirty glasses. The bottles behind the bar were all well taken care of, organized and on clear display.

 

As he lifted the scotch, he took a sip, watching as Shigaraki ran his finger along the condensation on the side of his glass. As he savored the burn of the alcohol, he set the glass down and leveled Shigaraki a hard stare.

 

“So. Why have you sought me out.” He gave a wave. “I doubt it was for something as mundane as a drink.”

 

“Hmmm. Several reasons.” Shigaraki’s red eye rose from his glass to focus on the hero-killer. “The most pertinent, perhaps, is that I’m currently recruiting allies.” 

 

“Cutting to the chase, are you?” Stain’s voice carried a modicum of annoyance. If this was a mere recruitment, then he could end this villain now and move on.

 

“Not quite.” Shigaraki gave a mirthless smile, and sipped at his water. “I doubt you’d be willing to submit to my desires, nor would you agree to follow my lead. This is less recruitment, more… Alliance.”

 

“You guess correctly. I wouldn’t lower myself to be your… lackey.” Stain scowled, and he let a flare of his intent be known. At the bar, the smoky figure flinched, tensing.

 

But Shigaraki didn’t.

 

The young man maintained a passive smile. His eye was unwavering and his muscles loose and relaxed.

 

“Of course. Which is why I am merely offering you… an opportunity.” Shigaraki tilted his head, as if mildly interested even as Stain felt his temper flicker and spike. “You plan to commit another murder in Hosu, do you not? To prove the worthlessness of the ‘False Heroes’ that you condemn so much.” 

 

Stain forced himself to relax, to loosen up, even as he wanted to snarl at the presumption of the villain before him. “I do.”

 

Shigaraki gave a grin, a cruel merciless thing on his scarred face. As he drew a circle on the table with the condensation of the glass. “Then, let us be a distraction. Let us cause chaos, to draw the heroes away from their search. And as they deal with us, as their backs turn towards you… Then you can take their greatest and best unawares.” And with a flick, he slashed the circle of water in half.

 

Stain narrowed his eyes.

 

“And what, exactly, do you get from this?”

 

Shigaraki could only chuckle.

 

“Why, we get to test the heroes.” His red eyes narrowed. “We get to see… exactly how they act when their lives are truly at risk.”

 

Stain couldn’t help the sliver of himself that felt a sense of comradeship at that thought. 

 

With a moment of consideration, the Hero Killer downed the last of his scotch and slid it aside.

 

“Well then. When and where shall this distraction of yours occur?”

 

Shigaraki seemed to lean forwards, eagerness on his features.

 

“Why, that depends entirely on the heroes. When do you think that Endeavor will arrive in the city?”

 

From the far side of the bar, pale blue eyes glanced their way with amused satisfaction.

---

Then

The groans and hiss of pipes echoed through the corridors of the station. The shifting sounds of mechanical lifts and the pumping oxygen and atmosphere of dozens of vents.

 

And in the depths of the hardware lab, the crack of gunshots and the splattering of Typhon.

 

Izuku moved with a grace that felt right as he wielded the wrench in one hand and the handgun in the other, occasionally swapping one or the other for the Stun or GLOO gun. The first several rooms of the Hardware Labs had been filled with offices and design studios, but directly after it was what he had been looking for.

 

An intact security office, one with a console he could access.

 

As he searched through the office, he found a stash of 9mm, just what he needed, as well as a second silenced pistol.

 

But as he scrounged around in the weapon lockers he paused, pulling out a thumbdrive from where it was set next to the ammo.

 

‘Silenced Pistol Ammo Fabrication Plans’

 

Blinking, he slid it into his transcribe, and opened the plan in a new menu.

 

They were… 3D blueprints in a weird format. Each part of the bullets shown on the design was labeled not just with the basics of size and angle, but with chemical formula. Specific alloys and mixtures.

 

Something about it felt familiar, and the faint memory of seeing something like this from his Repair neuromod made him wonder…

‘Flashing lights, particles being traced and assembled in mid-air…’

 

He’d figure it out. 

 

Turning back to the computer, he got to work plugging his transcribe in. He lets the memories of hours spent on computers guide him, directing him through the station's monitoring and security systems. A click, and he downloaded the crew roster. A few more and he had the map of the hardware labs, and another of the central lobby. Sadly, there weren’t any maps for the rest of the station available off of the terminal, they were apparently localized to each terminal. Without the high level security access he wouldn’t be able to break into the security console’s private network. 

 

Disappointed, but not surprised, he instead navigated back out of the map data and instead into ‘His’ files.

 

A series of programs and hacking tools were checked, edited slightly, and downloaded into his transcribe’s database. He would still need the hardware for some of the more intensive hacks, but he had an idea on where to get those. After all, the ‘Repair’ memories had a lot of fragmented memories of being spent deeper into the hardware labs, where there were all sorts of fun toys stored. 

 

As he began to check his files one last time, making sure they were all installed correctly, he slowed. There was a program tucked away into one of his development folders.

 

Blinking, Izuku tapped on it, and started scrolling through blocks of code.

 

It was connected to… something that wouldn’t make sense inside of the scenario. But the more he read, the more he understood.

 

Instead of the tower computer network, it was emulating a radio signal.

 

One that would overtake the stations own inherent radio and music controls, while also connecting to an external server.

 

An external server that wasn’t in Prey.

 

Izuku stared at it for a moment, before he realized what it was.

 

It was a link between the simulation's music function, that he had almost forgotten about, the chat.

 

Suddenly realizing the scope of what exactly a past run had made, Izuku ran the code, uploading it straight to the computer mainframe of the entire station.

 

Across Talos 1, every old style radio, every intercom system and speaker set up, gave a slow beep.

 

And then, Izuku saw it. 

 

In the corner of his vision, a flicker from where the simulations music function was hidden.

 

Opening it as the music began to play, he couldn’t help the laugh that came from him. 

 

Because the music was echoing from down the halls, ringing through the desolate station and drowning out the creeks and moans of metal and piping. And while he could barely focus on the first lines, the chorus came through loud and clear, and he sang with it.

 

“We will, we will, rock you.”

 

Now

Tenya blinked at his own reflection, clumsy fingers trying to finish his uniform tie.

 

He hadn’t gotten much sleep for the last few nights, and it was starting to show. His eyes were red, and there was a faint shadow under them. And even now, his thoughts were slightly slow.  

 

But he pushed through.

 

He had read every file he could get on the Hero Killer. Had looked over forensics and sightings and the few things the heroes could know for sure about the villain.

 

As he finally finished his tie, he adjusted it and took a deep breath.

 

Stain used blades. Swords and knives and some sort of spiked weapon. All of the deaths had been slow, with signs of torture or multiple lesser wounds before the kill shot was delivered.. If they didn’t bleed out before that point. But there was a common thread as well. They had all been paralyzed, or detained, somehow. The exact process was unknown, but while some of the bodies had shown signs of a struggle, many more had been injured as if they hadn’t been able to react.

 

Iida caught himself scowling in the reflection and took a breath, clearing his expression and putting on a professional demeanour.

 

He would have to research how to fight… someone…. With a sword….

 

‘Midoriya.’ the thought struck him like a lightning bolt.

 

He had a perfect person to watch. A resource who could even give him advice.

 

Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was earlier then he usually departed for class, but didn’t care.

 

Midoriya tended to show up early anyway, and if he could catch him alone, if he could ask.

 

Iida rushed the rest of his morning routine, moving through the empty house with a frenetic pace, drinking a glass of orange juice and snacking on a bowl of oatmeal in a hurry even as he shrugged on his uniform jacket and collected his phone and wallet.

 

In under ten minutes he was locking up the house and sprinting for the train station to catch the early train.

 

The entire ride was a blur, Iida lost in thought as he tried to figure out what exactly he could ask of Midoriya?

‘Train me to kill the Hero-Killer?’ was his first instinct, but he shoved it aside. Too much, too hateful. ‘Teach me to sword fight?’ No, he didn’t have time to learn that. He needed something more subtle, less likely to incriminate his plans. 

 

When he stepped off the train, marching through the early morning light towards UA, he was still unsure what to ask.

 

Turning the last corner towards the school, however, he was forced to pause his ruminations.

 

There was a crowd before the gate.

 

Cameras, microphones, clipboards and voice recorders.

 

Iida fought down his uncertainty and surprise, and breathed deep.

 

He wasn’t a stranger towards the media. He’d been present for interviews with his family for years, had been behind the scenes at television shoots and occasional promotions and charity events. He’d even attended parties and dances at his parents' sides, and had been on red carpets at several events.

 

But that was always on his terms. He had always been ready for it, been coached to deal with the media for those events.

 

Not… this.

 

As he got closer, several reporters glanced his ways, and by the time he was at the edge of the crowd they were clustered.

 

Camera flashes began to go off, microphone raised and questions flying.

 

“ -HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE PAST OF- ”
“-THE SPORTS FESTIVAL-

“- HAVE YOU HEARD THE ALLEGATIONS OF-”

“-MIDORIYA IZUKU’S MENTAL-”
“ -PSYCHOPATHIC TENDENCIES- ”

“ -UA’S FAVORITISM IN THIS-”

 

It was too much, too fast. Iida froze, stumbling back, eyes wide, his heartbeat racing and the words seeming to blur together.

 

But just as he was about to be overwhelmed, as his strained grasp on his emotions began to crack-

 

“Excuse me.”

 

The words were spoken, not shouted, not yelled.

 

But they cut through the sounds of the crowd like a blade.

 

Iida followed everyone else in the same motion, glancing behind him towards the sidewalk, but Iida felt a hand latch on his elbow, dragging him, stumbling, into the crowd.

 

He caught a glimpse of dark green, could hear sharp tones as the figure dragging him through the crowd spoke over reporters and dismissed questions.

 

And then, with one last tug, they were through, beyond the gates of the school.

 

Behind them, shouts and questions and demands kept coming, but the UA border wasn’t crossed, and Iida could feel the trembling in his limbs, the way his breath was coming quicker and harsher.

 

Midoriya didn’t release him until they passed through the doors of the school itself, the shorter teen dragging him to the wall and guiding him to sit on the floor.

 

He only became aware of the fact his hand was pressed to Midoriya’s chest, feeling it rise and fall, as Midoriya’s voice began to filter through the cloud of chaos that had consumed him, the way his chest was burning, his head spinning with images of the crowd closing in, of the bloodied remains of Tensei-

 

“-Out, two three four. Hold, two three four. In, two three four.”

 

Breathing exercises, he could do breathing exercises.

 

Focusing, Tenya tried to match his breathing with the rise and fall of Midoriya’s chest.

 

And as he did, the world seemed to come into focus.

 

He hadn’t realized that his glasses had even come off, that his face was wet with tears.

 

Midoriya was crouched before him, holding Tenya's hand to his own chest as intense green eyes locked with red ones.

 

Even as his red eyes finally focused, the green haired teen didn’t stop talking, keeping that steady cycle of counting and breathing, and Tenya felt himself relax.

 

By the time Midoriya fell silent, Tenya felt exhausted.

 

“You good?”

 

“...No. But better.” Tenya sighed and looked up, watching as Midoriya stepped back and gave him some space.

 

Midoriya nodded, and glanced towards the door. “I heard about your brother. My sympathy for your family.”

 

“..Thank you.” Tenya paused and continued. “I have a question I wanted to ask.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Tenya looked up, eyes gleaming in the light of the hallway. 

 

“How would you fight a swordsman.”

 

“With a sword.” Midoriya gestured towards his blade.

 

“And if you couldn’t?”

 

Midoriya paused… before looking up.

 

“Let’s head to class. I want the blackboard to explain this. And I don’t want to spend all morning out here in the hallway.”

 

Tenya followed, feeling a heat in his chest, that sensation that he was doing something .

 

‘Another step closer to justice.’

---

Then

Izuku crouched, perched around the doorway into what his new map happily labeled as the ‘Demonstration Stage’.

 

A small amphitheater of chairs that looked into a heavy duty stage, tucked behind a shimmering wall of glass, the same glass and shimmer that he had seen on every external window of the station. 

 

A dead security guard with the keycard to the rest of the Hardware labs.

 

Oh! And the phantom that was patrolling the area.

 

The tall figure was pacing among the chairs, peering up.

 

And making… comments.

 

Distorted and twisted, but under the mass of flesh, as it just stood there looking, Izuku could hear it.

 

“̷̹̏W̸̳̃h̴̙̉ą̶̋t̷̺̍…̶̞͊ ̸͂ͅḽ̵̕o̶̧̅ọ̷̈́k̵̩̃ ̴̝̒l̴͕͗i̵͔k̷̛̤e̵̼̎?̶̦͘ ̷̘̏T̸̜̊h̸̨̄e̵͈ ̷̦͝s̷̮̅h̷̹ä̷͔́p̵̠̎ë̸͖́…̸̧͝ ̵̨͒g̶̨̽l̶̈́͜a̶̼͆ș̷̋s̷͔͝?̶̳̇”̶̣̈

 

And, behind all the static and warping, it was a human voice.

 

Izuku leaned back from the doorway, slumping against the wall as he took a breath.

 

In his hand, the grip of the pistol felt heavy.

 

‘Can I save them. At all?’

 

He could feel his pulse in his ears.

 

‘It’s a simulation, they aren’t real. They aren’t actually living. They don’t matter. But if it doesn't matter, nothing matters. If nothing matters they why even try to save them?’

 

The spiraling train of logic was drilling into him, the temptation to abandon any moral justification…

 

It would be easy.

 

How many times has he failed to save someone so far.

How many had died because he wasn’t good enough.

 

‘I killed Waylon Park because I couldn’t stop the Walrider.’

 

‘I hadn’t been able to complete Freddies without using the corpse of the previous security guard.’

 

‘I hadn’t been able to save any of the guards, or the survivors, on Sevastopol. Hadn’t saved Hughes or Marlow.’

 

‘I hadn’t saved Samuels or Verlaine or even Taylor. They had all either died or vanished by the time I finished that run.’

 

‘And even now… had I even saved myself? My memories were lost. Abandoned by my past cycles.’

 

It would be so easy to just….

 

Abandon the moral high ground.

 

Forget being a hero. Forget saving people.

 

But...

 

‘Would All Might give up?”

 

Izuku breathed deep and his grip tightened on the gun, as he focused.

 

‘No. he wouldn’t.’

 

He holstered the pistol, and glanced around the corner. Watching as the phantom paced around. He wouldn’t kill anything that seemed sentient. Not unless it was self defense. He didn’t have the ammo to keep it up anyway. He would have to focus more on outsmarting them than anything else.

 

Just like the Xenomorphs.

 

‘He’d find a different way.’

 

With a glance around Izuku began to search for something, anything, he could use as distraction… and locked onto a glass bottle of wine on a serving cart back down the hall.

 

Perfect.

 

Walking carefully and keeping out of sight of the door, he snagged the bottle, hefting it up, before sneaking back to the side of the door. Izuku gauged the distance inside the room, before pulling back, and pitching it across the theater.

 

With a crash, it smashed into the reinforced glass between the theater and the stage.

 

And the phantom turned, and darted for the glass, Izuku moved in, keeping low behind the rows of chairs as he moved towards the body, even as the distorted words became more frantic.

 

“W̸̲͗h̵̓͜ȩ̵̚r̵̺̓e̶̗͛ ̵̣̾ǎ̸̜r̷͕̾e̴̡̔ ̷̛̹y̸̥o̵̭͂ù̵̲?̶͍̎”.

 

Izuku crouched as he moved down the far Isle, watching for any motion, only to freeze as the phantom seemed to dart back across the room, heading towards the door, head swinging from side to side.

 

It flickered again, appearing at the doorway itself.

 

‘Now.’

 

Izuku moved through the row of seats towards where the security guard was at. With quick hands, he stripped the gun from his dessicated hand and snatched the red keycard from his chest.

 

As the Phantom moved even further out into the hallway, Izuku began to look around, before he found it.

 

A maintenance hatch, tucked away at the bottom corner of the room, right next to the glass into the stage.

 

He snuck towards it, but just as he reached it he saw the phantom heading back, and moved as fast as he could.

 

By the time the phantom was in the room, the hatch was closed behind him.

 

Izuku had gotten past.

 

Now, he had to find his way into the rest of the labs, break into the Looking Glass servers, and get out.

 

Izuku moved through the maintenance corridor, finding another hatch that led into what his map was calling the ‘Atrium’.

 

However as he opened it, Izuku froze.

 

‘Oh. Well, fuck.’

 

Well. It seemed that he had found the part of the station that had exploded earlier.

 

Because half of the Atrium was on goddamn fire.

 

And his chat apparently decided that was the perfect moment to start playing Johnny Cash.

---

Now

Mezou Shouji considered himself, if nothing else, to be observant. It came with the territory. When you could see a dozen directions, pick up noises for almost half a mile with good sightlines, and didn’t like to talk, peoplewatching became a comforting pastime.

 

It’s why he knew, without a doubt, that something would happen from the moment he got in that day.

 

Class 1-A had been weirdly tense all day. Homeroom had started with a quick lecture on how to deal with the media outside, namely to not answer them and head straight for the gate. But aside from a comment that the heroics class that afternoon would be a lecture instead of training, Aizawa-Sensei hadn’t addressed any of the rumors that had been spreading, either online or in the school.

 

That didn’t mean they weren’t present.

 

Mineta had made several comments that would have been perfectly normal if not for emphasis about ‘Quirks’ and ‘Normal’, often while side eyeing the stoic form of Midoriya, who sat in his chair and spent his free time flipping a pencil around his fingers. Of course, Midoriya was always quick to shut down Mineta with a disturbingly flat and dead stare, and if he didn’t, Bakugou was willing and able to scowl with enough anger to compensate.

 

Todoroki had also seemed uncharacteristically focused on Midoriya, but it was only passive, long, silent glares that crossed the room.

 

Kaminari had been anxious, glancing around the room and locking eyes on Midoriya again and again through the day.

 

And among the rest of the class? Most of them tried their best to ignore that anything was going on. But several were having a very hard time with it. Iida tensed and curled in whenever the media was mentioned, while Jirou ground her nails into the desk when Mineta started talking.

 

Mezou himself was uncomfortable with the sheer… atmosphere of the class.

 

And it continued unbroken until the class was dismissed for lunch.

 

Mezou nodded to the quartent of Midoriya, Koda, Jirou, and Yaoyorozu sitting at the same table as him and Tokoyami. In the last week or so leading up to the sports festival the growing group of friends had joined Mezou and Tokoyami. 

 

Partly because out of almost everyone in the class the six of them made the quietest table. Something that Mezou had noticed let Midoriya and Jirou unwind and destress, likely from sensory overload.

 

Sadly, the peace and quiet of their table only lasted for five minutes.

 

“My oh my! If it isn’t the infamous Monster of 1A!”

 

Blonde, arrogant, and oh so full of himself.

 

Monoma Neito.

 

The 1-B student who apparently couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 

Mezou was already mad, and it wasn’t even him being called a monster (This time, anyway, whispered his thoughts) b ut across from him, he saw Midoriya’s face.

 

He didn’t look angry. Or upset. Or even annoyed.

 

He looked resigned.

 

With a sigh, he set his chopsticks on top of his bowl of rice, wiped his hands with a cloth and gave a soft “Excuse me.”

 

And then he stood, turned around and took two long steps, until he was face to face with Monoma.

 

Around them, the rest of the cafeteria was quieting, people paying attention.

 

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Izuku spoke with a low tone, his words steady and calm.

 

And it scared Mezou to his goddamn core .

 

“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about you . The Freak of 1-A, right? The charity case?” Monoma didn’t seem to notice, but Shouji swore he saw everyone else at his table flinch.

 

With Midoriya facing away, there wasn’t any way to see his eyes, to figure out his expression.

 

Only that his body language was… relaxed. His shoulders were down, his arms loose, his hands tucked into his pant pockets. 

 

“Monoma-san. I can assure you that I, if nothing else, am not a charity case.” Izuku tilted his head slightly, ponytail swaying with the motion. “In fact, That’s the only objection to your claims I have right now.”

 

Monoma laughed- no, he cackled. “So you admit that you’re a freak?”

 

A nod. “Sure.”

 

Monoma stepped closer, into the personal space of the shorter teen. “A monster in human skin?”

 

A shrug. “Yep.”

 

Monoma leaned in, as if sharing a joke. “A killer?”

 

And this time, Izuku wasn’t calm, wasn’t relaxed.

 

No, he leaned in, and his hand snapped up, catching Monoma’s tie and yanking down. They were suddenly eye to eye, and Monoma froze.

 

The words were soft, laced with poisonous intent that cut through the sudden silence like a bleeding cut, the sheer intent bleeding off him suddenly making people’s breath catch, their hearts freeze. People choked on food, froze in their seats, tensed for a fight.

 

“Oh Monoma. I have killed more people than I can count. Have bathed in their blood like it was a monsoon, have maimed and ripped and torn to get here. To escape a hell the like of which I sincerely hope never exists ever again. If you think that…” he gave a slow look down Monoma’s form and back. “Some jealous, little, bigoted, fool is going to get me upset. Get me to risk my spot in 1-A out of some misplaced sense of inferiority… .”

 

Green eyes seemed to shine, pupils blown wide and green so deep that it felt like a gem took one look around the room.

 

The entire room shuddered, the sensation of someone walking across their grave rising up as they were all dismissed as unimportant.

 

But for Monoma… For Monoma he let the leash on his killing intent…  slip.

---

Imagine, for a moment. You find yourself on a sea of ice, the frozen surface is fogged over, but sturdy. You’ve never worried, not truely, about it cracking. The idea has always been a joke. A funny thought. Dismissed as unimportant.

 

But with the sun shining down, you look below the ice. It’s clear for the first time.

 

And instead of more ice, instead of a deep lake frozen solid, you’ve found yourself on something only centimeters thick. The water beneath it swirling as something… unimaginable massive stirs. 

 

In that first rush of fear, you second guess yourself, you panic, you start to look for an escape.

 

And then the thing beneath you opens an eye of the deepest luminescent green. An eye so large that you could fall into the depths of it’s pupil as insignificant… except that eye narrows. And locks on to you, leaving you the only thing it’s focusing on. 

 

Too far from safety.

 

Too close to danger.

 

And unknowing of when that ice, so very thin… is going to shatter.

 

And then the eye closed.

---

That’s what Monoma felt. 

 

As he collapsed to his knees, breath shuddering, panic and anxiety wracking his frame, Izuku gave a dismissive glance across the silent room.

 

“Sorry for the interruption.”

 

Turning, he sat back down, once more relaxed, and picked back up his chopsticks.

 

He didn’t react when Kendo of 1-B came and dragged an incoherent Monoma away, hesitantly looking at Midoriya’s back with something unreadable in her eyes.

 

As the rest of the cafeteria slowly resumed their lunches, Izuku consumed the last of his rice bowl, gave a short bow, and walked away.

 

Jirou, Koda, and Yaoyorozu rushed to follow.

---

Then

Izuku winced leaning back as another blast of flame started, cursing as he felt the heat even through the protective layering of his suit.

 

Raising the GLOO gun, and bracing it, he unloaded at the pipe. Globs of GLOO covered up the broken piping, and several more were sent into a puddle of some sort of burning grease, soaking it up into the lattice of the foam and putting out another fire in the atrium.

 

It had taken almost ten minutes to get this far, using the GLOO to extinguish flames and soak up puddles of fuel. One of them even acted as an insulator on an electrical panel, keeping high voltage shocks from arcing between what looked like an unshielded super-capacitor and some sort of railing that had been twisted out of place on the catwalk up above.

 

Izuku finished spraying down the last major chunk of flaming debris, the foam soaking into the gaping cracks in the station's structure and sealing off any fuel for the flames still remaining.

 

As the flames slowly died down, Izuku stepped back and reached up, tapping under his jaw and letting the transparent helmet that wrapped his head collapse back to the collar of the suit.

 

“Right, a GLOO gun is better than a fire extinguisher. Good thing to know.”

 

As he breathed deep, he coughed, taking in a few wisps of smoke that were still rising off the ruined wall of the atrium.

 

But what caught his eyes was that he could see scorched signs that had been behind the flames, and the burned out corridor beyond it.

 

Ballistics Lab

Chemical Lab

 

Izuku blinked, and couldn’t help the sliver of dark glee in his thoughts.

 

‘Ballistics… as in weapons?’

 

He moved closer, navigation over the scorched tiles of the atrium floor and around still smoking panels.

 

As he reached the door he tried to open it, but when the servos of the door simply screeched, he sighed. “Right, let's just…”

 

The wrench came out, and with the memories of how to repair doors, guiding him, he hooked the handle into the gap and began to push, grinding against the burned out servo-motors in the door frame as he slid it open.

 

The short hall beyond was trashed, half caved in and covered in… a glowing purple field along one wall?

 

Izuku blink and leaned closer before he froze.

 

The shimmering purple field was the only thing keeping out the vacuum of space. It looks like the entirety of the Chemical Analysis lab had just flat out been decompressed.

 

And judging by the way that there was a fucking breeze it wasn’t perfect.

 

Great. 

 

Fuck.

 

He could even see a body floating in the rubble.

 

“Right. Talos 1 has safety measures. That’s new. Better than the death trap of Sevastopol. And yet they still fucking suck. ”  Sighing deeply, he braced himself in the opening of the door and pushed. With a screech the last of the door panels slid open, letting him in.

 

As he ducked under a collapsed section of ceiling, he found the other door in the hallway.

 

‘Ballistics…’

 

And the door was locked, the holographic control flashing red.

 

Great.

 

He was about to dig out his transcribe when he saw a body slumped in the corner, half hidden by a chunk of debris. 

 

‘It wouldn’t be that easy, right?’

 

It was.

 

The body had a security card for the ‘Ballistics’ Lab hanging off her pocket, and a weird round device in her hands.

 

Cautiously, Izuku left the device untouched, and just grabbed the card for the door.

 

As the lab opened, Izuku was able to look over the open space beyond. Rows of shelving covered with pipes and raw material stock, complex looking printing and milling tools.

 

And a large glass and steel orb, with two mimics inside it at the far end.

 

Izuku pulled the gun from his holster, tightened his grip on the wrench, and began to approach.

 

As he moved past the first few counters of tools and works stations, he passed another covered with more of the strange mechanical orbs. Slowing his pace, he looked them over, taking in the silver and red coloring, as well as what looked like a series of hoses and a vent.

 

And of course they seemed familiar.

 

Sighing, Izuku moved past to circle the sealed containment unit. The round glass container was shimmering a faint purple, showing it was reinforced like many of the other panes of glass he’d seen so far. The two mimics were on a pile of what looked like trash as they were trying to smash against the glass to get at Izuku, but unable to make any progress.

 

Out of the top of the cell, a thick pipe led towards a console set further back.

 

Walking around, Izuku paused at seeing a screen.

 

“Ballistic test chamber…” he muttered, reading over the simple list of safety requirements.

 

And below them were two buttons.

 

‘Open Chamber’ and ‘Release Recycler Charge’

 

Izuku pulled the small container to the side of the screen open, revealing one of the weird orbs. 

 

“Guess those are recycler charges…” he looked from it towards the mimics, and grinned, before locking the container closed. Mimics… weren’t people, didn’t exhibit the same… sense of self that Phantoms occasionally did. They were more like pests. 

 

“Right, let's see just how these work.”

 

Izuku tapped the release command and watched.

 

The charge was sucked up the tube, sent bouncing into the chamber, and then-

 

“JESUS FUCK”

 

Izuku blinked away tears at just how weird that had looked.

 

Everything had just…

 

Twisted…

 

…

 

“Where the fuck did the mimics go?”

 

Izuku leapt over the console and strode up eyes wide.

 

Where before there had been a pair of mimics and a lot of junk now there were little… cubes?

 

Cubes he had seen around.

 

He paused, and then called up his notebook function. He had checked after the first Neuromod to find that there were pages that he hadn’t seen earlier, that had been blank before a neuromod. Regardless, he tabbed through notes and found an answer. A diagram of the recycler charge and a note that he needed more resources for… a fabricator.

 

Izuku snapped the book closed and looked down.

 

“ It turns them into fucking resources?”

---

Now

As 1A filed into the classroom for Heroics, Izuku stared out of the window. He was not calm, despite how much he was looking relaxed.

 

His blood was boiling.

 

First, the Fucking Vultures this morning, swarming Iida, who was likely already working through the emotional distress of his brother being maimed. The fact that he had all but begged to learn how to deal with a swordsman after he calmed down from a full blow dissociative panic attack was proof.

 

And then was the rumors, that were also caused by the goddamn media. The subtle stress of watching his back, of listening to whispers that were just out of reach, of people’s judgements crowding in…

 

It made the chance to vent, to unleash his emotions in the lunchroom cathartic.

 

Part of him knew that he had pushed it slightly too far, that he had let the leash on his intent slip too much.

 

The fact that he kept seeing bloodstains again was proof enough.

 

After lunch, while Momo, Kouji and Kyouka were trying to help him calm down, he had snapped the pen he was using earlier, crushing it in his hands, and had spent almost ten minutes sitting in the unisex bathroom on the second floor with his friends helping pick the crushed plastic and metal out of his palm.

 

It was already scabbed over, the small punctures healing as his body worked to replace the chunks of skin, but the sensation of tension . The minor twinge of pain and discomfort was something he latched on, that punched through the haze of… resignation.

 

Of course, as Aizawa-Sensei stepped into class, he fought to push it away. To devote his focus to the now.

 

“Right, we’ll be talking about your performances in the Sports Festival over the rest of the week, but right now we’ve got some business to take care of.

 

Yanking the projector screen down, Aizawa booted it up. In seconds the class was listed up on the board, each one given their rank in the sports festival and a line to the side, labeled ‘Offers.’.

 

For most of the class, starting at the bottom with Mineta, Toru, and Ojiro, the line had small numbers. Between 45 to a 150. But the higher it went, the longer it went.

 

Most of it was as expected… except that at 5th, with only 241 votes was Midoriya himself.

 

Above him was:
Uraraka, with 278.
Momo, with 326.
Bakugou, with 3714.
Todoroki, with 4,002.

 

Instantly, Kyouka spoke up. “Sorry for the language, but what the fuck teach ?”

 

Aizawa scowled into his scarf. “I am aware that the offer distribution is… unjustly skewed,  but there is little I can do to fix it.” Sighing, he looked out over the rest of the class. “For those of you in the dark, these are the Internship Offers for your class. Each of these numbers represents a Pro Hero and their agency who is offering a week long apprenticeship starting this Friday and lasting until next Thursday. If you choose to accept an offer, it’s a good opportunity to begin networking and getting practical experience in the world of heroics. If you choose for some reason not to attend an internship, then you’ll be involved in specialized training here on UA campus for the week.” 

 

Closing up his binder of notes, he sighed. “Of course, this does mean that you’ll be in the public eye, particularly after the Sports Festival and the recent media frenzy about the publicly released student roster.” A wave of discomfort stretched over the class, the vast majority carefully avoiding looking at Izuku… but only making the attention on him that much more prominent.

“And, Since you will be in the public eye, you need to… prepare.”

 

Izuku looked at the door, where someone had been waiting for almost a minute and a half, just as it opened. Midnight burst it with a flourish “HERO NAME SELECTION!”

 

Izuku almost froze at that, mind suddenly racing.

 

There’s options but….

 

He wasn’t ready.

 

Words and names slid through his thoughts.

 

‘Sunlight… no, not my style.’ despite the urge to ape his sword trainer, it didn’t fit… but the other… ‘Abysswalker…. No. Not me. Not right now. Artorias earned that title, not me.’ He shoved away the idea of taking a title from the people of Lordran, and considered his other options. Bioshock didn’t quite fit. The names of the monsters that lived there were to represent their changes, their diverging from normal men. Nor was he… ‘ Tyrant I.M,’ That was what Umbrella had designated him.

 

And the rest of the games only gave him job titles, calling him based on his actions.

 

But in the end, he circled back around towards Dark Souls… as something came to mind.

 

‘Chosen Undead, who shall bring Ruin to our land…’

 

And he had, hadn’t he? He killed the lords, slain every demon in his path, had dueled every Knight and Lord and even the Abyss.

 

And when he let the Lord Soul burn out, so did the world around it turn to ash.

 

If anything… it was the only title given that he truly earned.

 

Undead.

 

No, even just that didn't quite work. He needed a different word, something similar but more specific...

 

As the rest of the class chatted and conversed, Izuku pulled out his phone, typing in the term Undead… and then, about the words in his head, the calls of the hallucinations that followed him.

 

  Monster. 

 

Revenge. 

 

…

 

Justice.

 

With each word, the result narrowed, until at the top, was one that caught his eye.

 

He clicked it, and found himself on the wiki page for some sort of game, and began to read the lore.

 

- forms from the soul of a mortal who met a cruel and undeserving fate-....

-seek revenge against the one who wronged it.- …

-instead of lifeless eyes- ... -burn with resolve and flare in the presence of its adversary.- … 

-If it’s foe is too powerful … to destroy on its own, it seeks worthy allies to help it fulfill its quest.-

 

As he reached the end, he set his phone down.

 

‘That fits… It aligns with Who I Am. ‘

 

He closed his eyes, engraving the word into his mind.

 

‘But it needs something else.’

 

All Might was ‘The Symbol Of Peace.’

 

Other heroes called themselves after their quirks. After wings or ears or fire. Some call themselves after their style. Ninja and Dragoon.

 

But Izuku didn’t want to give away who he was if he could help it. Wouldn’t give his enemies a chance to know what his goals were. The name he chose would strike fear and uncertainty to those who recognize it, but his sobriquet, his epithet, wouldn’t tell them anything. He could choose Deku… he supposed. ‘The Useless hero…’. 

 

No. He wasn’t that anymore, not since his first deaths, his first win .

 

So he considered himself.

 

What was he now?

 

What had happened to him.

 

He had been refined? Had been tormented… Trained. Had been... cultivated? No. 

 

Had been suicidal, once.. .

 

But those were what had been phases.

 

He had moved past and carried only the lessons of those things.

 

Death did not freeze him, and pain did not slow him. His muscles knew his actions first, and his mind was honed.

 

All these things, these lessons, had been ground into his very soul by breaking them until he no longer broke.

 

He had been forged . But before that… before-

 

-The swing of the hammer as Andre spoke.-

 

-the hammer blows formed his edge.

 

- The eyes of Ricket gleaming with unholy light as he swirled the bowl in his grasp.’

 

He had been reduced from what he had once been-

 

-The creak of bones as Amos pumped the billows, a bowl in the flame gleaming white hot-

 

-and become more than the sum of its parts.

 

-The Giant, his massive hands on gentle with the bowl as he pulled it free… the silver inside black against the white of the heat, grumbling words ringing out as it shone, smile crossing a dour face-

 

He had been smelted, and the slag, the unneeded weight and imperfect metal, had been poured away.

 

Left in the heat until the metal lost its resistance, until the parts flowed as one, until the many facets of himself broken and shattered had bonded once more into something new...

 

At his side, he felt the weight of Blight-Killer. Felt a resonance with its history and the art he knew was poured into it. It was made by a quirk, but did not carry one. It was forged in heat and pressure, but would not break again without a deadly cost.

 

‘I… have become a weapon that is wielded by its own past...’

 

“The Shining Hero, Cavalier!”

“Very nice! I like it, very classical!”

“The Alien Hero, Xeno!” 

“You’re pushing it but good!”

“The Rainy Season Hero, Froppy.”

“THAT IS ADORABLE!”

“Skip, please sensei. I need more time.” 

 

The rest of the class was already beginning to present, even as Izuku let his thoughts consume him.

 

“The Meteor Hero! Uravity!”

“Ooooh, aggressive! I like it!”

“The Martial Arts Hero, Tailman”

“Short, informative and Simple! You pass!”

“Stun Gun Hero! Charge Bolt!”

“Simply Electric! Pass!”

“Sturdy Hero, Red Riot!” 

“Nice Throwback!”

But he began to write Kanji on his board, and below it, in English, the second word.

 

“The Petting Hero, Anima.”

 “Comforting and cute! Approved!”

“Sweets Hero, Sugarman.”

 “Nice! Or should I say Iced... Fine, pass!”

“The Tentacle Hero, Tentacole .”

 “Oohh. Did you consider…”

“ No.”

“Spoilsport. Approved.

“Audio Hero, Ear Jacked.”

“Rock On! Good pick!”

“Taping Hero, Cellophane.”

 “Straight and sticky! Perfect!”

“Jet Black hero, Tsukuyomi.”

 “Mysterious and cultural! Good!”

 

Every stroke of his marker was with intent, was focused. He wanted this to reflect him.

 

“Shoto.”

“Just… your name?”

“Yes.”

“ Your choice. Pass.”

 

'One word to reach into my past, into my heritage, into the arts that made the swords I wield and the essence of what I have become.'

 

“Stealth Hero! Invisible Girl!”

“Another classic, pass!”

 

'One word to call to mind the culture that guided me, the people who play games and find paths and face my demons second hand.'

“ Bakugou?”

“...Pass. For now.”

“.. Alright. Midoriya?”

“Just a moment please.” Izuku asked as finished the final stroke. He needed a moment to focus, to calm his racing heart, to wash away the blood that slid under his fingernails and through his hair with his own will.

 

“Fresh-Picked hero! Grape Juice!”

“Accepted. Next.”

“The Creative Heroine, Genesis!”

“Oooh regal! Midoriya? Iida? You’re up!”

"...Tenya."

"Another name? Your choice I guess. Midoriya?"

 

Getting up, he stood for a second, taking in the Kanji and letters, before walking across the class to the podium, the words nestled against his chest..

 

‘Who Am I?’ he had been asking himself this question for years. For over a decade. After every game. After every death.

 

Perhaps he had found his first answer.

 

“My hero name...”

 

He turned the board around, and set it down with a thud that seemed to resonate through his classmates, and even his teachers. Aizawa was staring at his back, and Midnight had even taken a slight lean away.

 

“Is ‘The Crucible Hero, Revenant.’ ”

Notes:

 

 

An:


Above is the kyujitai form of Kanji for the word “

Tatara

”, Referring to the ancient clay furnaces used to smelt Iron Sand into “

tamahagane”

or ‘Precious Steel. The art is still kept alive today, with one of the last “Tatara” being the “Nittoho tatara” located in the Shimane Prefecture of Japan.


Beyond that, the ‘Revenant’ is a monster from Dungeons In Dragons, and is an undead soul that is animated by the power of vengeance, and rises from the grave to carry it out. They live for a single year, and will hunt down those who betrayed them without remorse. The lines used are taken from the Stat Block and Bio of the monster on DnDbeyond:
Link To Revenant

.

 

 

 

And with this, we have finally passed into the Hosu arc in truth.

 

 

 

The Internships are on the horizon, the teachers and killers out in force.

 

 

 

Blood will stain Hosu.

Chapter 48: Skill Training

Now

Iida slammed into the ground, feeling his arms shake strain, his legs cramping and burning from the heat of his engines. As he pushed up, digging in the sand of the training ground, he gave a ragged cough.

 

‘Hit, chest. Didn’t turn fast enough. He caught me.’

 

He narrowed his gaze up, the normal glasses he had been wearing had long since been replaced by narrow lensed prescription goggles, and the school uniform replaced by running shorts and a tank-top.

 

Very similar to the outfit of his opponent.

 

Long green hair was pulled back, a black long sleeve shirt and loose hakama pants tied off above bare feet.

 

As Iida rose from the sand, he shook out his arms, eyes locked on the other student as Midoriya spoke.

 

“You can’t cut corners. The reach of my blade-” the long wooden stick in his hand reached out to touch the sand around him, drawing a loose arc before him. “-is death.”  

 

Green eyes bored into red, as Iida readied himself once more, stance low and braced, almost as if he was a runner at the starting block. 

 

“If you want to hit me head on, you have to be faster than a sword. So instead of coming head on, you need to go for my off side.”

 

Iida knew this . Midoriya had said it again and again .

 

With a flare of his engines, he took off.

 

The sand of the pit was his first trial. It didn’t give him angles, didn’t let him pivot. He had to drift to change directions with any kind of speed, his running shoes digging into the sand. But he had a pattern, a plan.

 

Circle, make Midoriya adjust to meet him, and then spiral in faster then he can react. He could do it. He could.

 

As he began the first circle, he watched Midoriya slowly step back and away from the arc, eyes locked on him.

 

So Iida pushed himself, felt the engines in his calves heat up, felt the energy grow and grow, let his speed intensify, feel the force that was carrying him, even as his feet began to skid with every other step-

 

Midoriya was still stepping in time, but he could see it, the way he was slowing in comparison to the spiral.

 

If he could just go FASTER-

 

With a wordless shout, Iida reached his limit, the heat off his engines spiking the flames beginning to flicker with the blue heat of Reciprio-

 

And Midoriya was a step too slow.

 

Iida could see it, the way Midoriya was facing away. With a wrench of his entire body, he angled in, and closed in a sharp curve, heading straight for Midoriya’s off hand.

 

He was ‘off line’. Away from the easy reach of the sword, he was right there!-

 

And then Midoriya was… too close in.

 

He had stepped into the curve, too close for Iida to correct with the speed of the spiral pulling him out, and even as he rushed, tried to correct, he slowed down.

 

And was met once more by a strike from the wooden stave, the impact smashing into his back, pushing him down and forwards, his own speed sending him crashing out of control across the sand.

 

“Speed isn’t the answer here Iida!” Midoriya called, even as he lifted the stave to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, other hand folded behind his back. “Speed just leaves you open! Uncontrollable!”

 

‘Two days, and I still can’t reach him! Can’t touch him!’

 

The goal was simple. Midoriya would stand in the center of the sand pit. Iida had to land a single hit without being hit in return.

 

The first day had been a lesson in humiliation. The wooden stave had caught him across shoulders and knees and elbows, every hit aimed and timed just as he thought he had out maneuvered the green haired teen. 

 

It was a lesson in futility.

 

He had come today prepared, had thought he had learned the lesson, had committed himself to being faster, to being better .

 

But now Midoriya was saying that was wrong? That he shouldn’t use speed?

 

But if not speed then what?

 

What else did he have? There was only sand! He couldn’t even get a grip!

 

Gritting his teeth he let the red at the edges of his vision take over and charged Midoriya shouting his anger in a wordless cry-

 

And Midoriya stepped in and slammed his open palm into the dead center of his solar plexus

 

Like his strings had been cut, Iida crashed to his knees, unable to catch his breath, wheezing at the sudden spasm of pain that seemed to paralyze him, he couldn’t think, could barely comprehend the sudden pain and panic as he tried to breath but his chest wouldn’t move.

 

And then Midoriya slammed his other hand on his shoulder and jerked him so that he was forced to sit straight up, the motion causing him to desperately inhale. Diaphragm contracting on reflex.

 

Midoriya stared down at him with a blank expression, but something about it felt almost disappointed in Iida.

 

“If you were facing Stain right now, your brother would be an only child.”

 

The words cut through his pained breathing.

 

Izuku stepped out and around, pacing in front of Tenya, sword swaying in his grip, the wooden edge tracing a path through the sand.

 

“This isn’t a fight of speed, but distance Iida.” one more step, and Midoriya swung.

 

The blade snapped through the air, a crack breaking the heavy silence, the wooden tip freezing millimeters from his goggles.

 

“In the time it takes you to move ten meters, to build speed and attack me, I only ever need to move my blade one meter. And sometimes not even that. I keep telling you to take my blindside, to move opposite the blade. You need to learn to read my motion. You can’t rely solely on reaching me before the sword, it’s a race you won’t win.”

 

Izuku slammed the sword back, catching it with the back of the wooden line resting by his side.

 

“Every strike I make is primed Iida. It’s held ready to trace a motion, I’ve been telegraphing my attacks… And yet, you constantly rush at the end of that motion, trying to dodge the entire arc. To reach past a blade you have to strike into the motion.”

 

Iida could finally speak, his voice rough. “That… That’s suicide.”

 

“Its only suicide when you fail.” Midoriya drew and striked the sword from where it rested at his side, the motion clearly showing where the blade flicked out, becoming an arc of motion and pain, before ending at the other side, only to twist and be dragged back in towards his body.

 

“A weapon user can fight and clash with a swordsman because they meet on a similar field. They have extensions to their reach, tools that can catch and parry their strikes, to catch and deflect hits. You don’t have that luxury. If you want to push past the reach of a sword, you need to weave through the motion.” Midoriya gestured around the sword, holding it out mid swing. “Go low or high, left or right. And stay off the line.”

 

Stepping back, Midoriya was once more dead center in the sand pit, and Tenya staggered to his feet.

 

“Now. Attack me. And make this one count.”

 

Iida dug deep, and rushed.

---

Then

Izuku shook his hand, wincing as the door console sparked, resetting, again . He had been trying to do a hardware bypass on the locking mechanism for almost ten minutes, trying to get through what was apparently one of the highest level door locks on the station.

 

“Department head or authorized personnel security access only. Of course. Of course. Why would anything want to be fucking easy.” Giving up the hardware hack as a bad job, he decided to go for the more tedious method.

 

Finding the goddamn keycard .

Izuku flicked through the interface on his transcribe, looking through the remote link to the security console for the name…

‘Calvino, Lorenzo. Research, Track?’

 

“Yay, you’re wearing a tracking bracelet. Now… Where are you?”

Izuku tapped the track option, and lifted his transcribe up. In a few seconds it had a lock, and displayed the bracelets direction and distance.

 

The tracking bracelet signal was back through the plaza. Izuku jogged that way, keeping an eye out for any Typhon that had made it into the area. Ever since he had sealed up the fire, several doors had been opened since there wasn’t a hazard, and he still wasn’t sure how many Typhon were in the area or if they could work doors. 

 

When he reached the center of the plaza he glanced back down at the transcribe, spinning slowly as he oriented the marker correctly.

 

As it locked back on, Izuku slowed and glanced up, then back down.

 

“Oh. Oh shit. ”

 

He pushed through the disabled door into the hallway outside of the ballistics lab, and glanced back down.

 

‘Calvino, Lorenzo, 8 meters away.’

 

He looked up, through the sealed off door into the depressurized hole that used to be the Wave and Beam research lab.

 

And at the corpse floating in the void of space, hooked on an exposed stretch of piping.

 

He took a deep breath, and then slammed his forehead against the viewport with a groan.

 

“Why can nothing be fucking easy.”

---

Now

Momo rubbed her fingers along the edge of the paper, one of the three offers she had narrowed her Internship down to.

Uwabami: Public Relations and infiltration training. While she wasn’t the highest ranking, she was well known for having connections and a very broad information base. Beyond that… she was also the offer her parents had personally known. Yao-cosmetics had hired her as a model several years ago, and her parents apparently had good rapport with her.

 

Yoroi Musha: the highest ranking of her offers… the Equipped Hero was number 8 in the rankings, known for being one of the oldest current heroes. His quirk, ‘Re-equip’ let him swap between sets of armor and weapons he had marked previously, though he could only maintain a few at a time. The variety of weapons he knew were appealing… but she had trained in her weapons before. She wanted something new from her training, a new skill or opportunity.

 

Which led her to her last option.

At rank 60 in Japan, the BMI Hero: Fat Gum was one of the few heroes who’s quirk had similar diet requirements to her own. He had set dozens of eating competition records, was a registered dietitian and nutrition expert, and that was second to his heroics record. He had an extremely high capture and detainment rate. The last ten years of his career boasted plenty of capture, almost all of them with minimal collateral, owed to Fat Gum’s ability to take and negate kinetic force, as well as his close combat capabilities.

 

Honestly, that was the one she wanted.

 

The sports festival had shown her after all, that for all her skill with weapons, her quirk had fallen behind. Izuku’s comments on her weapon creations, his ability to deal with her offensives with ease, had been the opening blow. But the fact of the matter was that he didn’t beat her in close combat. 

 

He made her exhaust her resources.

 

And if there was an offer that could help her solve that problem, then it was Fat Gum.

 

Nodding to herself, she slid the other two offers away, and signed the form for the BMI hero.

---

Then

Izuku ducked, cursing as the operator screamed past him, with a flamethrower.

 

Turning to track it, he fired the stun gun, sending the lights of the drone flickering and it crashing into the floor, where Izuku stepped up and kicked the entire chassis across the floor, wincing the pain even as it crashed and shattered against the wall.

 

The Operators in this section of the station had been corrupted by… something.

 

The long workshop he had finally made it too was past the Plaza, and contained the actual ‘Engineering’ section of the labs. Benches covered in spare parts, cases of half assembled operators and control panels sat next to drawing boards of various mechanical systems. With his time in Sevastopol and the memories of the Repair neuromod, he had a passing understanding of what most of them were working on. Thrusting units, sensors, a variety of robotic grips and arms, power and electrical systems.

 

Izuku leaned against the wall of the entryway that led to the rest of the room, and pulled the empty magazine from his gun, and the second from his pocket. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out the box of loose 9mm rounds, and began to clip them into the magazine, keeping his eyes focused on the empty workshop.

 

‘One, two, three-’  reloading his handgun as he kept an eye out. The three operators he had seen when he entered the room had rushed him after he started taking potshots, and all three were sparking or burning wrecks sitting around the entryway now.

 

But something told him he wasn’t done yet. 

 

‘Fifteen.’ The first magazine was filled and he slid it home in the handgun, before holstering at his side and starting the second. Even as the bullets clicked home one by one, he couldn’t help the sense of unease.

 

However, as the final bullet clicked into place, he slowed, eyes focusing on the center of the room.

 

A mechanical lift, covered in boxes above the center of the room.

 

A bunch of messily stacked, identical boxes.

 

The freshly refilled magazine and the almost empty box slid into his pockets, and he narrowed his eyes, tracing the wires from the lift’s motors around, the bright orange power line snaking along the wall and across the floor towards a control pedestal.

 

Stepping forwards, he pulled the gun and reached out, putting his left hand on the lever to lower the lift, and pulled.

 

With a jerk, the lift began to drop, the boxes shaking with the motion.

 

Before four of them shifted into Mimics and scattered , bailing from the lift as they were found .

 

As they leapt, Izuku pulled the gun back, bracing it with both hands as some deep seated instinct took over.

One of them died when it hit the ground, two bullets slamming into it.

 

A second was nailed as it skittered across the floor, staggering under one, two, three, shots.

 

The other two dived into the back half of the workshop, ducking around workbenches and splitting up.

 

One dove left, passing through a door into a storage room, while the other went right and vanished into a closed off area filled with boxes and cases of gear.

 

Izuku cursed and lowered the handgun, eyes narrowing.

 

‘At least two… but I’m almost positive there’s another around there.’

 

With slow steps he moved through the workshop, pulling the wrench from his belt to hold in his off hand, braced under the gun to keep it level.

 

Every sense was heightened, his skin tingling under the pressure of his suit, every shift of the air felt along the back of his neck or across his face.

 

He drifted towards the right, heading for the fenced in storage area. It was open in comparison to the storage room on the left, leaving the most room to maneuver.

 

As he got closer, he kicked an empty bucket, sending it clattering into, and along the fence.

 

To no response.

 

But as he closed in, the shape and design of the storage room became clear.

 

Including how it had a single entrance.

 

Reaching behind him, he let the wrench hang off his belt, and pulled a recycler charge from where it was hooked to his suit instead.

 

‘And… fire in the hole.’

 

The lob was almost gentle, bouncing into the fenced off area with a metallic ringing.

 

Izuku glanced to the side and stepped half behind a desk, squinting, as the fabric of reality around the recycler was warped.

 

The air twisted, light shifted through the spectrum, and the very air around him was dragged in towards the recycler charge, before the effect ended with a snap of space untwisting.

 

Chunks of ‘recycled’ material littered the floor.

 

And among them was a pair of purple cubes that Izuku knew were the remnants of a Typhon.

 

Of course, a second later the sole surviving member of the charge, a mimic clearly missing a limb that was spraying black protoplasm everywhere, tried to attack him, throwing itself in his direction.

 

Izuku caught it with the wrench, and threw it to the ground before he pinned it with his boot. With a grunt of force, he crushed it, sending it writhing before falling limp.

 

Giving a deep breath as he stood back up, Izuku glanced around. The entrance to the storage area was warped, the force of the recycler had pulled at the floor, forming a wavelike ripple in the metal plates stretching up towards the singularity point. The loose papers and boxes nearby had been dragged in and reduced into compact squares of base material, but the actual area of damage was... remarkably contained. The singularity only lasted for a mere moment, afterall, and only the things loose and close enough to be drawn in were consumed by the effect, despite the damage of the force spreading farther than the recycling effect.

 

Though, mimics seemed plenty susceptible, unable to resist the pull while hiding as an object.

 

Izuku kicked the various compressed materials into a small pile, and turned towards the other side of the room, where the storage room was.

 

He checked his handgun, seeing the screen showing ‘10’, and nodded.

 

That should be enough.

 

Raising the gun, he braced it once more, and headed for the storage room.

 

The door was open, and Izuku narrowed his eyes.

 

The interior of the storage room was covered with shelves, with a row down the center of the room.

 

And dozens of small items were sitting still on each shelf.

 

Pipes and ductwork was stacked on one shelf, next to bins of wiring and various electronic components, all labeled what they were. Another shelf was clearly operator frames, each of them stripped of their wiring and computer components. Izuku breathed slowly, and raised the handgun to that comfortable position he had found earlier, feeling the itch of familiarity that came with the movement. In the end, his arms were bent and gun held just below his sight line, wrench braced against the back of the handgun, ready to swing at the first sign of danger. He breathed deep, and focused.

 

The first thing he did was check for things out of place. He stood in the doorway, gaze slowly rolling over each shelf, eyes looking out for doubled items that were out of place.

 

He marked almost half a dozen potential mimics.Things like a wrench on the floor, but right below a toolbox, or a roll of duct tape left on a shelf, a variety of odds and ends.

 

But as he focused on them, he stilled.

 

He waited.

 

‘Come on…’

 

He watched, eyes drifting back and forth without focusing on anything in particular, just marking the things with his peripheral vision.

 

And as he waited, he felt the hairs on his neck raise, that innate sense of ‘soon’ itching along his spine.

 

It was a split second, but it started the fight.

 

The wrench twitched, just a bit, just a millimeter to one side and back.

 

He buried two rounds into it.

 

And then a box on a top shelf jumped at him.

 

The next thirty seconds were a blur of quick moving black shadows and gunfire, and the swinging and crushing of black whips and a heavy wrench.

 

As the motion died down, Izuku was breathing heavily, three mimics dead on the ground around him and a 4th laying where the wrench used too.

 

Izuku couldn’t help a huffing laugh, wincing as he felt the bruised side of his chest, where a mimic had lashed out while he was distracted by its pal.

 

He glanced at the readout on his handgun.

 

‘1’

 

Right, time to reload, resupply, and find some way to get outside of the station without dying from vacuum… or floating off into space.

---

Now

Kyouka heard the distinctive heartbeat before she saw him, looking up from her perch on the side of the front steps of the UA administration building at the way Izuku strode through the gates, the now familiar chaos of the reporters behind him, trying to get answers to their myriad of questions, despite the almost physical level of annoyance that he kept wreathed around him. 

 

At least they were unlikely to try and physically stop him. The last reporter to try and grab Izuku got thrown.

 

It was on the news in hours, of course. Another bit of ‘Proof’ for the bigots and the fearful to pour over.

In fact, the constant presence of reporters hounding the gates was part of why she had snagged some extra things from her house, stashing them in her duffle bag with her clothes for the week.

 

They were heading out of town after class today, and she knew that Izuku was heading towards Hosu for his internship, though he hadn’t said who exactly he was interning with . She was too, heading to work with Edgeshot on doing search in rescue, though they were likely going to avoid the ‘Hunt for the Hero-Killer’ that was drawing in the press when they weren’t going after her friend.

 

Speaking of Izuku. He was finally free of the mass of reporters, and moving through the path her way, loaded with two bags. Across his back was a massive black case, the outside clearly shimmering with some kind of synthetic material that looked sturdy. And at his side, Izuku had a dull green duffle bag, clearly worn down but made to last. With Izuku’s thinner frame, it almost looked like he should be struggling with the various weights, but instead he moved with ease. “Morning.”

 

Kyouka nodded, sipping at the iced coffee she had in her hand. “Morning. What’s with the case?”

 

He glanced back over his shoulder, shifting his weight so the case hung slightly out of alignment. “My personal gear. Need to consolidate with my hero suit before we head out.”

 

“Mind if I come? I want to check my suit modifications as well.”

 

Izuku gave a loose shrug, but nodded. “Sure.”

 

As the two started walking, Kyouka couldn’t help but muse on her plan. She glanced at Izuku’s profile, the way he was cast in sharp contrast by the early morning sunlight, and the way his slender body moved. She also thought back to the sports festival, the ease with which he moved, and nodded to herself. It definitely could work.“Hey, Izuku.”

“Hmm?” 

 

“Do you have any plans to avoid the reporters after class?”

 

He squinted, a slight wrinkle of his brow and twist of his lips the only sign of his annoyance. Which probably meant he was five minutes away from maiming a reporter, possibly with his bare hands. “You mean aside from breaking into a sprint that would knock them out or leaping the possibly lethal fence? Not really.”

 

Kyouka snorted, the image of Izuku: cool, collected, mildly feral, slamming into the crowd of reporters like they were bowling balls was hilarious. She collected herself though. “What about a disguise?”

 

He glanced down with a raised eyebrow. “I tried that yesterday, but it didn't work.”

 

“Izuku, no offence, but you literally looked like you were trying to be anonymous, with the mask and beanie. That’s a fast way to be found out. You need to be unexpected and blend in.”

 

Izuku rolled his eyes, but agreed. “So, oh mistress of disguise, what do you suggest?”

Kyouka grinned.

“Remember that prank we pulled at the sports festival?”

---

Then

Izuku glanced up from the terminal, taking in the complex shape of the fabricator before him. The large tube mounted before him acted like a 3D printer on steroids, using a combination of matter and gravity manipulation to shift and form materials into pre-set configurations, before dispensing them onto the rack below.

Configurations like the one Izuku was currently reviewing.

 

‘The Artax Propulsion Unit’

 

The series of thrusters was based around a backpack shaped core, that would collect and charge an ionized blast to provide propulsion, or if there was available atmosphere, would intake and then fire ionized gasses as a short propulsion. While inside the artificial gravity of the station interior, it was limited to letting Izuku make short glides out of falls, it would be far more effective in Zero-Gravity, where acceleration wasn’t going to be limited by the effect of gravity

 

While the main thrusters would be mounted on his back, the Artax also had thrusters leading to each foot, along with braces that would clamp onto the bottom half of each leg to help him aim and maneuver. Izuku finished inputting his measurements, making sure the thrusters and lines of the unit would fit correctly.

 

Beyond that, he had also needed to acquire the materials. A few minutes of looking through the storage room had scounged up a box of the metal and plastic cubes that fed the fabricator, as well as dropping a box of pipes in the other machine in this corner of the room.

 

The recycler, transformer of junk into resource cubes.

 

Izuku had gathered most of the more mundane objects he could fit, and had made a small pile of the metal and plastic variants of the cubes, as well as every remaining body he could find of the mimics.

 

The end result was nearly a hundred rounds of ammunition was now stored in Izuku’s backpack, as well as a third magazine for the pistol, and another twenty shotgun shells for when he finally got his hand on the damn thing.

 

Afterall, unlike the Xenomorph on Sevastopol, these aliens were weak to bullets.

 

The remaining cubes had been stashed in his pack, and a note made to keep an eye out for them, since he was sure he had seen both a recycler and a fabricator in Morgan's office/workshop. He hadn’t taken time to explore them when he was there last, being distracted by the revelations that he was in deep shit and suffering from memory loss.

 

Thankfully, once he got the terminal and the plans for the Artax pulled up, bits of his repair memories had begun to… drift back into place. Apparently exposure and context was needed to integrate memories that he received.

 

That conclusion was only backed up by the alert from his transcript that his ‘Neuromod Stability’ had clicked back up to ‘High’, and that the percentage had also risen back up to around 98. 

 

His current rule for Neuromods was that he needed to practice them as he acquired them. Which, just kind of made sense.

 

As the final modifications to the plan were done, Izuku tapped the ‘Fabricate’ button.

 

The rings of the printer began to field back and forth, the cubes he had fed to the machine being consumed as layers of piping and electronics were traced, filled, and layered in the center of the tube.

 

In under a minute, it was complete and dropped to slide out the bottom of the tube.

 

Izuku picked it up and nodded.

 

Now, time to get some practice in, before heading outside.

 

Speaking of… He swears he saw something up in the rafters above that lift...

---

Now

Izuku stretched, enjoying the relief of not carrying his weapon case. While the weight itself was negligible, the balance was higher on his back, forcing him to correct for every shift of his body weight. With it off, however, he was now able to set the black case next to the silver travel case that apparently held his updated heroics uniform.

 

At another nearby table, Kyouka’s empty case was open, while she had gone to test fit her modified uniform.

 

Which left Izuku to stare down at the case with a bemused expression, before looking around the workshop, and found Powerloader. The hero was currently standing near a rack of sheet metal, likely doing inventory before classes.

 

“Hey, Sensei. Can I get an explanation about what Mei did?”

 

The red haired man looked up, and then took in the silver case, before sighing and walking over.

 

“Right, normally I expect she would want to explain it herself, but she’s being forced to stay home for the day because she passed out in the shop. Again. ” Izuku stepped back and Powerloader opened up the suitcase that was almost twice the size of the original uniform case Izuku remembered.

 

“First things first, your entire armor composition got overhauled. The original armor plates were steel with a polymer coating, these ones are… something special. The steel layers are there, but the coatings are different, swapping to a custom ceramic with a high Moh’s level . It won’t stop a high caliber bullet, but if a knife or sword doesn't hit it dead on it’s more likely to skid off. Beyond that, the backing of the plates are now a tight kevlar weave designed to disperse impacts. A gunshot is going to hurt like hell, but anything under a heavy rifle round should only bruise or crack ribs.”

As Izuku handled the bundled chest armor, taking in the larger asymmetrical chest plate, that would be strapping up over his left shoulder and stretching to under his right arm, it wrapped his sternum from the collar of his neck down towards the bottom of his ribcage in a single unmarried stretch of smooth material. Below it, it swapped to a series of layered plates, each overlapped with the rest and interlocked to bend and shift with him. However as he moved it around he raised an eyebrow. “Feels lighter than the first one.” 

 

His armor was heavy, after all. Especially in comparison to the rest of his class. The original suit had been nearly a full 15 Kilograms in weight, the torso being almost ten of that. This armor felt more like it was maybe 5 Kilograms total for the torso.

“Yeah, Hatsume figured that out. The Kevlar is shaped to fit your torso, which means it needed less padding, and she trimmed down the weight and size to give you better flexibility. Speaking of-” Powerloader pulled out a sleeve, the shoulder a long pauldron like shape, and something that looked like the chainmail cloth of his half skirt hung down to tuck into the elbow, where a thicker bracer sat, ending in a full leathery glove. “The left arm gear you used to have was based vaguely on the greek ‘Manica’ with the discs that overlapped up the arm, but after how trashed it got by the fight at the USJ, Hatsume came up with this redesign. It should leave your arm free to move without the armor getting in the way.”

 

Izuku lifted the arm piece, twisting it in his grip, seeing how the reinforced cloth shifted freely without pulling at it’s anchors. He also ran his fingers along the back of the bracer, and blinked.

 

A section of the upper edge, around his elbow, had a nearly invisible seam. A moment of pushing and shifting found a catch, and as he pulled, the upper edge of the bracer slid free, revealing a slender punch dagger. 

 

Izuku didn’t bring it up, and Powerloader either didn’t see it or ignored it. Izuku clicked it back into place, seeing how the textured grip matched the outer edge of his bracer almost seamlessly.

 

A nice weapon of last resort there, he'd have to tell Mei he liked it.

 

The arm assembly was set down with the torso armor, and Izuku moved on.

 

The chainmail half-skirt at first looked the same, if slightly modified to hang off a sword belt instead of the edge of the armor like the last one, but as Izuku lifted it up, he raised an eyebrow.

 

There, painted across the chain cloth, was the Kanji ‘Tatara’. Or, as it was read for him, ‘Crucible’. The kanji was dark red, only a few shades brighter than the dark grey of the cloth, but it shimmered slightly in the light

 

Izuku felt the way his cheeks pulled, a soft grin across his lips as he ran a finger over the symbol.

 

Without waiting, he unhooked his sword belt and pulled it around to attach the half skirt. In just a moment, he had the chainmail cloth locked into the leather. It was secure enough to withstand his normal movements, but could tear away from the quick release clasps if needed. As he slung his belt back around his waist, he took several steps, testing the way the fine mail hung from his side to just above his knees, covering where he would keep spare ammo or his handgun from shrapnel. 

 

‘Or explosives’, he mused. All those things that he didn’t want getting shot or lit on fire. 

 

As he turned back, he glanced over the last parts.

 

The boots and cargo pants. The dark green of his pants base material was patterned with black stitches and a multitude of pockets. The holster for his Samurai Edge was where he had asked for it, as well as a specialized series of pouches for spare magazines. Along with the pockets, the material itself felt similar to the underlayer of the torso armor, a stiffer fabric but loose enough for him to stretch and move. 

 

But the boots…

 

The original design of the red knee high boots were still there, but it also now had integrated knee pads that were formed of angular ceramic/steel plates, as well as a clearly reinforced toe and heel. The end result felt… heavy. The two boots were nearly as heavy as his torso armor in total, but he could also feel the way it would latch and seal shut around his legs.  

 

Already he could predict the way they would feel, the force he would be able to deliver.

 

‘The Ishimura Stomp is within reach once again…’ Izuku noticed the way that Power Loader twitched, and it made him realize that his soft smile had sharpened, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth slightly.

 

He pulled the smile back down, tensing his jaw to keep from intimidating the teacher.

 

After all… He didn’t smile much for a reason. It made people uncomfortable.

 

Powerloader cleared his throat, looking back into the case as he tried to ignore the sudden tension. “Ah, and there's a few pieces left. Feel free to test them out.”

 

Izuku took the offered items as the peace offering they obviously were.

 

The first was a right handed gauntlet. The material was slender and form fitted, reaching from an intricately articulated metal wrist into a long straight bracer. Compared to the heavier protective mass of the left arm, this one was clearly optimized for deflections and ‘skidding’ weapons off of. A series of long metal ribbing stretched along the outer edge of the arm, from the wrist back toward his elbow, where the bracer ended with a short blunt spike that stretched past his elbow, but was short enough to not interfere with the movements of his arm. Already he could envision using the metal struts to brace the back of a sword against, or deflect a blade or weapon from his arm while the sword was over extended.

As nice as the gauntlet bracer was, the glove attached was just as interesting. A series of thin metal plates and interlocking slides seemed to flex and articulate on joints that matched that of his hand. Even with it pulled tight, the plates flexed and moved with his hand remarkably well, rarely showing the dark undermaterial of his hand. Sadly, it didn’t stretch towards his fingers, and the material stopped before his first knuckles, leaving his fingertips free for grip.

 

However, what caught his eye was not the dull grey of the armored plates on the back of his hand…

 

But the gleaming copper on the palm of the glove. Two large rings of copper that spiralled around before trailing to the wrist and twisting into wires.

 

‘Conductive points?’ interest piqued, Izuku twisted his arm around, tracing the copper wiring woven through his glove into the wrist. It took pulling the glove off, but he found a slender compartment, with a long battery compartment embedded under where the ‘Strike Plate’ was located.

 

Glancing over the rest of his untouched gear, Izuku found a battery that fit, settled in a charger that was currently displaying a green light.

 

Pulling the battery free, Izuku slid it home and tugged the glove on.

 

Flexing his hand, he felt the weight and twisted it back and forth, before looking over the remaining pieces of gear, before narrowing his eye on a familiar series of parts.

 

Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around the handle, and he felt the faint hum of electricity in his grip, and the lights on top of the handle flashed green.

 

“Ah, That's one of the two projects that’s been keeping Mei up.” Powerloader grumbled, even as Izuku lifted it up. The handle was correct, and with a familiar motion the ‘firing’ head unfolded.

 

He lifted the weapon up, taking aim down the back, and flipped the safety off.

 

With a hum, three lines of blue light stretched out from the newly redesigned Plasma Cutter.

 

‘Forget just the stomp. Ishimura’s engineering department is alive and well once more.’ Thumbing the safety on, the weapon collapsing back down, he glanced down next to where the cutter had been, and found four familiar looking gas cartridges.

 

“Can I test this?”

---

Then

Izuku stumbled, the jets from the Artax cutting out as he landed with a thud of his boots on the workshop floor.

 

He had spent a few minutes now getting used to it. Landing, getting air with his jets, and even using the thrusters while running or sliding around. Now, with the basics under him, he just needed one last thing before he headed out.

 

He moved over towards the corner of the workshop with the recycler and fabricator, sitting down with his back to the recycler as he pulled the Neuromod injector from his pocket. He had found one of the purple vials in the room during his testing, nestled away up on the rafters with a toy crossbow and a series of notes about changes to the crossbows design, and plans to ambush a coworker.

 

Neuromod ID; IM-7-Firearms.1

 

Izuku took a breath, and readied the injector, wiping the needle down with a sterilizing cloth from a medical kit.

 

The purple cartridge clipped into place, and the injectors ready light turned on.

 

Raising it up, he took a deep breath and relaxed.

 

The socket attached to his eye, the yellow lights lining up with his pupils as they slowly turned green.

 

And then, with a snick , the needles extended, and Izuku knew -

 

“Transtar PP9 Personal Defense Sidearm, designed for low penetration and integrally suppressed for use on the Talos 1 station-”

 

Memories flooded past him, hundreds of bullets, the constant firing of the pistol, the feel of it kicking in his hand as he nailed mimics, and phantoms, and even more black and twisting things. The click of the trigger and the softened bang of the bullets being fired.

 

And beyond just shooting, the act of modifying it. Changing the magazine to a larger size, replacing parts and filing off edges so the draw action was faster, smoothing out the signs of mass production so that you could make better shots. 

 

The parts of the gun were now burned into his mind, as well as…

 

‘Artemis Golden Pistol, competition grade and professionally detailed-’

The experience of finding a different gun. One that gleamed gold but fired better then the rest.  

 

He also understood more than just the gun part of firearms. There were stances, how to brace your limbs and aim, how to move faster, to keep your gun up, how to reload on the fly. The images flashed through his head and he could feel the phantom sensation across his body.

 

By the time the needle retracted, Izuku was panting, arm twitching from reignited muscle memory.

 

Yanking the injector from his face, Izuku looked down and scowled. He didn’t have time to redesign and reprint most of his handgun modifications. Right now, he didn’t have the materials or the blueprint to modify, and making it from scratch was asking for trouble. As he collapsed and stored the injector, he tossed the empty neuromod cartridge to the side.

 

“Right, enough waiting, Lets go get that keycard.”

---

Now

Kyouka adjusted her clothes once more, looking in the changing room mirror. Everything fit right, but she was still… off guard by her outfit.

 

For years, she had planned her heroic uniform to be stylish and casual, playing on her ‘Appeal’ as much as she could. She had based it off of rockstars and frontwoman, with a touch of alternative fashion.

 

And the bones of her costume were still there, but… 

 

‘It looks serious.’

 

Her pink shirt was still there, the artistic rips and tears still visible, but from her neck down, she was wearing a black vest that buttoned tightly up, made of disguised kevlar and lined with something she swore was chainmail, but from the outside hugged her hips and waist like a corset.

 

Her jacket was also different. The light ‘Faux-Leather’ jacket the costume department had once given her was now apparently an actual leather trench coat. It was cut thin and lightweight as it hung open. The coat reached from a high collar around her neck down towards almost her knees, where the front lapels cut away so that it only hung at her sides and back, and the buttons replaced for gleaming steel buckles. Buckles, it turned out, could turn back on themselves to leave the coat open, like now. With the coat open like this, it left her vest, shirt and brand new belt, or ‘Baldric’ as Izuku called it, on display. The jacket itself was also stitched with a pair of bright purple speaker icons across the shoulders, and a larger subwoofer design was on her back, a bright red pulse line striking across it from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. 

 

Her boots were higher now, the heel slightly thicker at the back for more powerful speakers even as they reached up to cover her knees. What was interesting was that she had knee pads now too. They were designed to mimic the same texture as microphones, and had gleaming silver accents around the edges, hiding a reinforced sound input. A test by knocking her leg into the wall had proved they were well padded and didn’t shift weird.

 

Her black jeans were almost anticlimactic at how much they didn’t change, the only difference being the material felt slightly more flexible and stretchy.

 

Now, the last new thing she had was the coolest.

 

She had a sword.

 

Or, well, more of a beating stick. 

 

The weapon was shaped much like the german sword she had been training with more recently, a Messer. Instead of Izuku’s longsword, or Momo’s pole-arms, Kyouka had been more comfortable with a shorter blade, and the german ‘Long Knife’ was a good fit. The one she had was a rubber coated metal stick in approximately the correct shape and balance, since apparently there were certifications she would need to acquire a ‘live’ steel weapon. 

 

‘I wonder where Izuku got his… or if they even tried to stop him.’

 

As she lifted the weapon and slid it to rest hanging from the crossguard on a loop of her belt, the rubberized surface hanging at her side, she checked the other pouches she had.

 

A medical kit, complete with tourniquet, bandages, and equipment for stitches, next to several boxes of more day to day bandages and disinfectants, the black case marked with a red cross where it clipped under her jacket at the small of her back. A phone holster, as well as a bag of wireless noise canceling earbuds for team ups sat on her hip opposite her sword, and a small pouch of emergency signals was next to the sword. It had a couple road flares, and three different colors of smoke for emergency signals and disaster scenarios. Her quirk made search and rescue a priority, afterall. 

 

With all of her new outfit changes, she felt… good.

 

She had changed. Had made progress, had changed her style to match her new skills.

 

Growing up, she had always kind of fantasised about being a fighting hero, tracking down and blowing away villains with intense shockwaves, or later on being more of a stealthy hero, taking down the villains one by one!

 

But by the time she had reached middle school, and had been applying for UA, she had settled for being search and rescue.

 

Until Izuku and Momo.

 

The decisions that she made, to learn how to use a sword, to fight unarmed and with knives under Izuku’s direction and as Momo’s sparring partner…

 

It was a step closer to what she wanted to be. Even if it wasn’t what her quirk would be best at.

 

Grinning, she started changing back, comfortable with her outfit.

 

It was progress.

---

Then

Izuku stood in front of the airlock out of the workshop, taking in the large circular chamber with a sense of unease in his guts. He had died in space before. Had been stuck out in a vacuum with nothing but a suit on. But the suit from Sevastopol at least felt… secure. The transtar uniform was vacuum rated, but was also… thin.

 

The helmet unfolded from around his neck, interlocking triangles forming a dome that gave him clear sight in all directions. A series of small icons popped up.

 

Suit pressure: Green

Helmet Integrity: Green

Air Recycling: Green

 

As the Icons all minimized, Izuku stepped in and pulled the airlock shut behind him, twisting the wheel to seal it shut.

 

As it sealed shut with a resounding clank, the control to vent the airlock was unlocked.

 

With a deep breath, Izuku initiated decompression.

 

The air in the room was sucked away, sent hissing into vents and leaving the suit around him slightly taunt, the vacuum pulling at the fabric of the suit even as he stood there, focusing on his breathing and keeping his eyes on the door in front of him.

 

With a flash of red lights, decompression was achieved, and the door unlocked.

 

He reached out, hand on the heavy wheel, and began to twist, with heavy motions.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

The door clanked, and if not for the vibrations up his arm he wouldn’t have heard it, the sound was muffled, only Izuku’s own breathing filling his ears as he pushed on the door.

 

And with a push, the door swung in.

 

And Izuku took a step into the void of space.

---

Now

Iida closed his bag, laying the duffle bag neatly next to his hero uniform case.

 

It was today. In less than an hour he, and the rest of his class, would be departing for their internships. The morning had felt like a blur, the anxiety under Tenya’s skin rising with every passing moment. Aizawa had used the homeroom to review the security measures they would all know. From what number to call to request an exit from an internship, to general rules of engagement. Without hero licenses, they were all to only fight in either self defense or at the direction of their Heroic Mentors. They couldn’t make independent arrests, and would also need to be cosigned by the Hero they mentored with on any paperwork they entered for police reports.

 

All things Tenya knew, but the emphasis still made his heart race.

 

Because he was going to break those rules.

 

As homeroom ended, everyone was released for an early lunch, and Tenya caught a glimpse of Izuku being waylaid by Jirou and Yaoyorozu. As the trio headed off in a different direction, Iida sighed and headed for lunch.

 

A bowl of beef stew and a tall glass of orange juice passed by quickly as he sat quietly through the lunch, before turning in his tray and heading back to the class and his bags early.

 

By the time he returned to the classroom, he had managed to find some level of internal balance. 

 

He had a plan, he had gotten as much training as he could.

 

First step: get to Hosu, and work with Manual to get going on patrol.

As he gathered up his bag, he glanced around. Normally Midoriya and Yaoyorozu were some of the first people to get anywhere…

 

As if called by the thought, the classroom door opened and three girls filed in. Yaoyorozu, Jirou and… “Excuse me? Miss? Are you in the wrong class?”

 

The girl was taller than Jirou, but shorter than Yaoyorozu. Dark green, nearly black, hair hung straight down past her shoulders, the ends becoming slightly curly along the sides of her face, while a neatly done up female uniform cut close to reveal a modest form, accented by a black choker and a longer than average skirt. dark green eyes lined with sharp black eyeliner and a heart shaped face looking out from under long bangs that hung past her face-

 

Jirou began to giggle. “Jeeze, If it can fool Iida then the reporters have no chance.” 

 

Tenya had to do a double take, and looked at the girl again. The green hair was oddly familiar, but the shape of the girl’s face was delicate, clear pale skin contrasted with lipstick so dark a red it was almost black, and eyeliner, the cheeks soft and curved. At his searching look, she raised a single dark eyebrow, and he looked away and cleared his throat.

 

The way that Yaoyorozu raised a hand to cover a chuckle only made the heat blooming in his cheeks hotter.

 

And as Jirou stepped to the side, a sword came into view on the girl's hip, almost hidden by the way her skirt swayed with a cocked hip, showing off dark tights that rose up from slender red mary janes. The sword made him freeze, after all, only one person  walked around the school clearly armed-

 

And then the girl spoke, and Tenya’s head… stuttered.

 

“I wasn’t expecting this kind of response from you, Iida.” The cool, masculine , voice. “Truely, what would the class think of our president if you were so struck dumb by a simple disguise.”

 

“Midoriya?!”

 

The girl- boy- Midoriya, laughed slightly, a breathless looking chuckle that sent slender shoulders rising slightly, her- his hair swaying, the single green eye staring out with an air of pure humor.

 

“In the flesh, Iida.”

 

“But, why- not to disrespect your choice of preference- I mean-” Iida was stumbling, tripping over his words as he tried to explain his actions, only to be cut off by a raised hand, the fingertips gleaming with an emerald sheen.

 

“Relax, President. Despite the look, I’m still a guy and still identify as such. This is merely to keep the media from swarming me on my way out of town.” Midoriya stepped past Jirou into the room, seemingly testing his gait, arms held out from his sides as he looked down with something almost curious in his face. “Though truly I couldn’t care less about my outward appearance.”

 

“I… Suppose that’s a reasonable precaution.” Iida frowned, pulling his glasses off and wiping at the lenses with his handkerchief. “I have noticed the media has a… Determination to accost you.”

 

“Side effect of infamy, everyone wants the story.” Midoriya mused, voice taking on a bitter tone.

 

Iida watched as Midoriya paced around the room, every several steps seeming to shift and change his gait. His hands went from loose at his sides, to clasped behind his back, to clasped in front of him and he began to put more movement into his strides.

 

Honestly, it was impressive as it was unnerving when within the span of several minutes any ‘male’ body language Midoriya possessed had seemed to vanish, leaving the usual stoic male looking like a demure female, hips swaying with each step and posture reserved but friendly. 

 

Judging by the loose expression of surprise on Momo, and the intense gaze of Jirou, they also hadn’t expected such a subtle change.

 

To finish, Izuku strode up towards his stuff. A large rolling briefcase with a duffle bag strapped to the top.

 

“Well then, shall we head towards the busses early? We don’t want to ruin the surprise by showing off to the rest of the class, would we?”

 

Even Izuku’s voice, while still maintaining a lower register, had shifted to something… softer, with a touch of formality that reminded Iida almost of Yaoyorozu in a way.

 

And that thought suddenly put things in order.

 

Midoriya wasn’t just dressing as a girl, he was mimicking the girls of the class. The slightly overplayed sway of the hips and demure hands behind the back were things that Hagakure and Uraraka tended to do. The expressions a near perfect lift from the more sardonic expressions of Jirou.

 

The pieces were mimicked, and then slowly adjusted for his relative size and body, adjusted with each attempt, modified until they formed a seamless exterior that would pass all but the most intimate expression. Even if his appearance was a result of assistance, likely from Jirou and Yaoyorozu, his performance was all his own.

 

It was mildly terrifying to watch.

 

As Iida grabbed his own luggage, and the girls theirs, Midoriya pulled the handle of his carry case to lift it, holding it over his left side, hiding the majority of his blade from easy sight.

 

And with a smirk that seemed almost.. Midnight-esque, Midoriya led them out of the classroom, passing by an oblivious Sato as they headed out.

 

Of course, it wasn’t for nearly half an hour, as the four of them exited the bus at the same station that he realized that he, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Jirou were all heading towards the same city.

 

All four of them were heading to Hosu.

---

Then

Space was… many things. Large, expansive, inspiring…

 

And goddamn stressful.

 

Turns out, surprise surprise, that accelerating around space with a jetpack is a bitch to control. The first time he had tried to ‘fly’ he had gone careening off and nearly slammed into one of the billboards circling the station before he managed to orient and slow himself enough to aim back at the station. 

 

Then it had been a solid half hour of testing the jets and performing more and more controlled jumps and burns to get across the station's hull.

 

Izuku grunted as he skipped off a strut to slow his speed, jets firing in short bursts to turn him him, as he neared the blown out lab where the corpse of Calvino was going to be.

 

As he came in close, he slowed, firing a longer burst of jet to slow his trajectory… and still slamming shoulder first into the lab walls.

 

‘Ow. Right, that does it. Grab the fucking keycard, search the debris of the lab, and then get the fuck back in the alien infested space station.’

 

Izuku paused as his train of thought caught up to him and was processed, and sighed. 

 

‘And put this moment aside for the mountains of therapy I’m going to need.’

 

Gritting his teeth, he kicked off the wall, a short jet to orient himself as he drifted towards the corpse that was still tangled up in rebar and blown out pipes.

 

As he got close, a twist let him crouch, hand scrambling for a handhold before snagging around a bar and letting him stay attached to the debris.

 

The body of Calvino… wasn’t pretty. A good chunk of his face was charcoal from the explosion that apparently happened in the lab, and what wasn’t crispy, was bubbled and puffed out from vacuum exposure, Even with the fact most fire wouldn’t burn in space, his lab suit was still blackened and charred in some places.

 

Adjusting his grip, Izuku started going through the man’s pocket. First checking the remaining chest pocket of the suit, before digging into the various other pockets around his waist.

 

Thankfully, it took only a few clumsy moments to find it. A red keycard with ‘Calvino’ embossed.

 

Grinning, Izuku clipped the lanyard to his belt, and looked around. The rest of the lab was pretty damn fucked…

 

But, as he moved, Izuku saw something on the far side of the room, trapped beneath the floating remains of a desk.

 

A Safe.

 

Izuku took a moment to consider his options. He could ignore the safe, or spend way too long trying to hack it while it floated in the void of space.

 

He sighed, weighing his options as he hung there.

 

His eyes tracked around the room…

 

And landed on a bundle of loose computer wire.

 

A long one.

 

As his mind put the pieces together, he looked at the safe.

 

“Oh, this is a dumb fucking idea.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, a cursing Izuku dragged a safe through the airlock, its weight hung off his shoulder by a bundle of cable that tied around it.

 

He was also bruised, because flying in space is hard. Flying in space while towing a safe that’s half your mass and carries its momentum is painful.

 

“This better be worth it.”

 

Grumbling, Izuku dragged it off towards the workstation near the fabricators.

 

If he was going to hack this safe, he was going to do it sitting down goddamnit.

 

His legs fucking hurt .

---

Now

Izuku sat back on the train seat, arms crossed in his lap and eyes half closed as he meditated through the trip to Hosu. The inter-precinct line was remarkably free of commuters this time of the day, with plenty of seats open and standing space, and that meant that he, Jirou, and Iida were free to sit down near the end.

 

To Izuku’s knowledge, the only other member of the class going to Hosu was Todoroki, and he was going with his father.

 

As the train traveled between Musutafu and Hosu, Izuku reflected on how Jirou and Momo’s disguise had worked nearly perfectly. The rest of the class had been distracted and somewhat rushed onto trains and busses, and only a few people had given him confused sideyes, before they got distracted with checking their luggage or getting ready to go.

 

Momo had given him and Kyouka hugs before leaving, and Koji, who recognized the three of them with only a little help, had signed his goodbye before getting on a train heading north towards Shizuoka. He had said earlier in the week that he would be working in the forests around Mt. Fuji, after all. 

 

Izuku caught his reflection in the glass across the train as it passed through a short tunnel, and took in the way his face looked different. He would need to ask at some point for tips on doing what Momo had called ‘Contouring’. Being able to hide his features to get a moment's peace while walking around town would be fantastic. It’s not like he cared about dressing feminine  either, he had met more than one woman in the games who could have absolutely beaten the shit out of him… or who had, repeatedly. 

 

The chime of the train announcements broke him from his contemplations, and he looked past, hair swaying slightly past his eyes as he took in the screens above the seats. As the train passed out of the tunnel, he got his first glimpse of the distant city center.

 

Hosu.

 

Kyouka was getting off at the city center, along with Iida. But Izuku’s stop was closer, in the industrial district near the edge of Hosu. As the train swung around a river, it began to slow.

 

As it neared his stop he gave a nod to Kyouka, and stood, brushing his skirt to lay flat even as he lifted up his gear.

 

He was almost caught off guard as Kyouka stood and gave him a quick hug. “Have a nice trip. Stay in touch, would you.”

 

“Sure. Who knows, you might see me around. Have fun with Edgeshot.”

 

Kyouka gave a nod, and Izuku walked towards the entrance, case in tow behind him.

 

Stepping off the train, he found himself on a nearly deserted platform, only a few people milling about.

 

First things first.

 

Pants and boots, instead of a skirt. He had a few kilometers to walk until he got to where his host had said to attend, and he didn’t want to end up with blisters because of the unfamiliar shoes.

 

Navigating through the station, he slipped into a gender neutral restroom.

 

By the time he came out, he looked… different.

 

Still androgynous, as both his straightened hair and the girls makeup had softened his features and he didn’t see a reason to mess with that. Black slacks and red boots, as well as replacing his school jacket and vest with a dark red and black flannel, made his overall appearance much less conspicuous.

 

As he pulled the hair back, leaving it in a high ponytail, not dissimilar to Momo’s, he hummed a few minor keys to himself, running through the tune he had been practicing this last week on the violin. It was a simple thing, but as he moved out of the restroom, checked his phone, and glanced around, it helped keep the slowly rising itch of… anticipation, at bay.

 

‘Right, heading west.’

 

Sliding his phone away, he started walking.

---

Then

Izuku cursed as the safe sparked, and he fought to keep his hand steady.

 

All he had to do was overload that single, fucking surge protector-

 

With a crack, the safe’s keypad flickered, and then died.

 

“FINALLY!” Izuku cheered, before reaching down and sliding a hook into the mechanics.

 

The safe had an electronic clasp on the locking mechanism, but if it ever shorted, it disengaged the clasp. Which, fun enough, means that Izuku can get the hook, through the manual key slot on the safe, and then just… walk the gears around.

 

With small twists, Izuku heard the gears click, and grind, until-

 

‘Click’

 

The door just swings open.

 

Izuku looked over the inside, and quickly spread his haul across the table.

 

Documents regarding energy fields that Izuku doesn’t understand, great. A third pistol? Wonderful! Same with the extra two mags of ammo.

 

Those go in the pockets…

 

The last thing was the strangest.

 

A thumbdrive.

 

“IM-Accumulative-Toughness.1 ” He plugged it into his transcribe and looked at it.

 

‘Encrypted file… but the type… that's the same type of file as the blueprints for the handgun ammo, or the Artax. It’s a printer file.’’

 

Izuku hummed, and copied the file to his transcribe, before turning and heading for the fabricator.

 

He plugged the thumb drive in, and ran the ‘file search’ for the machine.

 

And what do you know?

 

“Neuromod Formula identified… decrypting time, 8 minutes 12 seconds.”

 

‘That’s interesting.’

 

As Izuku pulled out the things needed to print it, including almost all of the shimmering purple material he got from the mimics, he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

 

But, to be safe.

 

He checked his transcribe, navigating the menu to his status page.

 

Neurological Integrity: 95.19% 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Yeah, he should be fine. But something about that file name was making him hesitate.

 

‘What does Accumulative mean in this scenario?’

 

It was giving him that same itching feeling the first Neuromod gave him, that feeling of importance, but dangerous.

 

“I’ll… wait. Until I get back to the office. Yeah. That seems like a smart precaution. Until the office.” 

 

If this was going to knock him out, he would much rather be somewhere at least defensible.

 

Besides, he was still technically in ‘Enemy territory’ here.

 

So, mind made up, Izuku gathered all his lock breaking tools back together, organizing them in a case so he could carry them easier.

 

And when the new neuromod was printed, he stored it in his pack.

 

Pulling out the red keycard, he held it up. “Right, let's go fix that server, and then go see what past me had to say.”

---

Now

Izuku slowed to a stop outside the front door of his destination.

 

An old boxing gym, closed down and abandoned, windows covered in dust and boarded up.

 

‘Well, it’s got charm I’ll give it that.’

 

Knocking on the door, he waited, and heard a distant shout.

 

“Doors open! Come in.”

 

Shrugging, he pushed the door open, and walked onto the open floor of what he was guessing used to be a warehouse. The floor in the center was replaced by an open boxing ring, and there were old punching bags and weights along the walls.

 

And there, wiping down her face, dressed in Gym shorts and a sports bra was his teacher, hands and feet wrapped with boxing tape and a punching bag half torn apart before her.

 

“Bout time you showed up kid.” The number seven hero, the ‘Rabbit Heroine’ Miruko gave him a bloodthirsty smile. “I’ve been excited to see what you're made of.”

 

Izuku couldn’t help but return a smile of his own, all teeth and dark glee, his intent rising to the challenge presented.

 

Already, the two of them could tell, just from the presence, just from the mood, they would get along.

 

They were kindred souls, after all.

Chapter 49: PVP tutorials

Now

Koji stared out the window as the bus rumbled along, rising higher and higher above sea level as it followed several switchbacks and tunnels.

 

He had taken a train up to Shizuoka from UA, and then caught this bus heading west towards Nagano. As it climbed and weaved through the forests and hills north of Tokyo, he checked his phone’s GPS.

At his current rate, he would reach his meeting point for his trainers in only an hour. From there, he was expecting a week of roughing it out in the ‘Beast’s Forest’. He had already changed from his school uniform into a pair of sturdy denim overalls, thick hiking boots and a bright red and orange flannel. His duffle bag and rucksack held enough camping supplies to rough it in the woods for a few days, and he had the Hero Suit he had commissioned at the start of the year, though with several modifications based on Izuku and Momo’s advice. He was planning to have a redesigned version made at the end of the year, after he had adjusted and decided on the designs he wished to keep. 

 

As the bus passed through the foothills and rode higher and higher above sea level, he took in the distant sunshine on the hills.

 

And at his side, Kuro slept, resting on his shoulder with his head tucked under a wing.

 

Around his neck, Seras hissed softly, the small snake staring out at the sunlight.

 

-”Warm.”

 

Koji hummed in agreement.

 

Aside from the two of them, he had avoided inviting any of the other animals from the school area to accompany him. While he enjoyed the alliance he had forged with the other birds of prey, they weren’t quite… Coherent. Not the way that Seras and Kuro seemed to be. 

 

Looking back down at his phone, Koji sent one more message into the group chat.

 

Koji: Good luck to you all! I’m likely to be in and out of service.
Koji: So please, all of you….
Koji: Stay safe.

 

His friends were quick to return with assurances.

 

But part of Koji was worried. 

 

He was getting uneasy vibes from the coming days.

---

Then

Access granted

 

Izuku waited, letting the door slide open and slowly stepping in, his handgun held ready as scanned the dark lab.

 

It was… spacious. The short staircase he was on led to the main ‘floor’ of the lab, placed right before a trio of large screens that hung from the ceiling, each facing out in different directions. Behind it were full floor to ceiling windows, covered with metal slats to block out the view of space.

 

Looking around, Izuku saw a faint flashing light, coming from the computer in what looked like a viewing platform to the left.

 

Giving one more look around, he headed that way. He wasn’t feeling that same… itch. That sense of unease that had alerted him to mimics before. The lab was… silent in comparison. As he entered the viewing area, he looked over the computer, before tapping to turn the power back on, ending the lab’s lockdown.

 

And as it ended, the metal coverings over the window slowly began to retract, letting the light of the stars wash over the room, even as the overhead lights began to slowly flicker and brighten.

 

But the more important change was the screens in the center of the room

 

The Looking Glass server.

 

As Izuku moved to interface with the computer in front of it, he felt a sense of unease…

 

And that was when the metal barrier to the outside revealed what it had been hiding.

 

Twisted masses of that same dark flesh that the Typhon were made of formed shapes almost like trees, surrounded by smaller balls of flesh that twisted and circled the trees, leaving a twisted golden lattice that hung in the air.

 

A golden lattice that sent Izuku’s repressed memories buzzing.

 

It felt like something was watching him, reaching for him, trying so hard to touch him.

 

Izuku’s urge to get away, to avoid the mess of golden material, faded after he took a few breaths, but he didn’t forget it.

 

Even as he opened up the computer, reset the servers, and found Calvino’s hidden keycard, and another neuromod vial, he was constantly aware of what was just outside the glass.

 

And when he left, the faint golden gleam sealed behind the door, he couldn’t help the way it made him move faster, leaving the area where it had been.

---

Now

Miruko sat on the floor of the boxing ring, flexing and checking her handwraps, before pulling on a pair of martial arts gloves. 

 

To be honest, the Rabbit Heroine was… perhaps not nervous, but definitely cautious about taking on an intern.

Her curiosity with the teenager she had chosen hadn’t let her consider that she would have to actually teach the teen. She knew the ins and outs of paperwork, she filled out after action reports after every patrol, after all. But she didn’t consider herself particularly skilled with the media or any of the more subtle arts of heroism. She did, however, consider herself a damn good combatant. 

 

Which is why, as her first order of business, she had planned a spar. It was also why for her temporary base in Hosu, she had tracked down this old boxing gym. If she was going to run him through his paces and see where he needed help, she wanted the gear and supplies to do it on hand.

 

With her gloves on, she ran through a few quick shadow boxes, bouncing on the balls of her feet, the mutation to her legs and feet giving every motion a touch of bounciness and speed that most people couldn’t match, and which had eventually led her to Martial Arts to take advantage of her natural ability. Her first steps into kickboxing had led to shoot-boxing, and the last decade had given her plenty of time to widen her skillset. Once or twice a year she took a week off to go to classes and get some sparring in with practitioners of everything from Capoeira and Taekwando to classical boxing and MMA. 

 

With almost a decade of this… as well as several years of less than legal street fighting back when she was a teen, she was confident that she was one of the most technically skilled and powerful melee heroes in the country, rivaling All Might’s sheer strength for the position as best hand-to-hand expert in the business.

 

As she finished her warmup, she caught sight of Midoriya returning from the back rooms of the gym.

 

The teen had changed into dark green exercise shorts and a black sleeveless shirt with a red stripe from the collar to the hem. Even as he walked to the ring, he was adjusting black hand wraps, a pair of red MMA gloves under his arm, matching the stripe on his shirt and the sneakers he was wearing.

 

As he started pulling on his gloves, she leaned on the ropes, getting his attention. As much as she wanted to go right to the deep end, she had been warned to pace her lessons, and that meant laying the ground rules.

 

“Alright, we’re going to start out slow here. Ground rules: contact doesn’t stop the round, but cinches, blood, or tapping out will. No weapons for now. You got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” With a tug he tightened the wrist strap of his second glove. 

 

She stepped back, eyes locked on the teen as he vaulted the ropes with a smooth grace.

 

And as they began to slowly circle, she watched the first changes come over him.

 

The color of his eyes shifted, the pupil expanding and contracting with a slow motion, leaving once dark eyes almost gleaming in the light of the ring. As he lowered slightly, letting his knees bend and settle his form, his hands came up in what looked like a vaguely orthodox stance, his left held low and forwards, his right back and primed.

 

She took in his entire form, the tight lines of his muscles.

 

A long moment passed, quiet focus only disturbed with the slow sliding steps on the mat, and the long and even breathing.

 

And then, without even missing a beat, they clashed.

---

Then

Izuku slid under the sightline of the turret outside the office, the gun firing overhead as a Phantom tried to follow, tearing into the black form as it shrieked and retreated back out of the hallway.

 

Breathing heavily, he relaxed and just lay down for a second. Getting out of the hardware labs hadn’t been overwhelmingly dangerous, but it had taken time, and plenty of effort.

 

The real issue had been that when he got back, he had found Typhon reinfesting the central area.

 

He was going to have to reconsider the placement of the turrets, as well as see if he could seal off one section or the other, to keep the worst away. For now, however, he had business to handle. He had several neuromods, as well as the message from himself to finish watching. 

 

Pushing up from the ground, he jogged over to the office, opening the door even as he raised his handgun, clearing the room visually.

 

Nothing out of place.

 

But, to be safe… “January, any visitors while I was gone?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Nodding to the operator, he headed across the room, taking in the workshop he had ignored earlier.

 

A recycler and a fabricator were here, as well as what looked like a computer for editing the designs.

 

As he booted it up he scowled.

 

Empty, of course. He would need to track down the blueprints he needed in the station. He set his transcribe to copy over the design for the Artax and the 9mm ammo. As it loaded, he tossed the various junk he had picked up into the recycler.

 

By the time he was done converting burned out chunks of circuitry into resource cubes, the download was finished.

 

Sliding his transcribe away, he sighed and moved over to the desk.

 

“January, Heads or tails.”

 

“....Tails.”

“Then the video first.”

 

Izuku tapped the button for the looking glass, and began to pace, eyes focused on the screen as it came alive.

 

“What’s one more shit day, right?”

 

The video started from the beginning, and Izuku watched as his past spoke.

 

Finally, it reached the point where it had previously stopped.

 

“So, the core mechanic of Prey is Memory and Learning. Prey, the game we’re stuck in? The games are a massive experiment about memory, about if the mind of a person is more than the sum of it’s memories. Our simulation is different. You’ve already noticed by now that… we’ve been changing.”

 

His past image raised his arm, flexing it. “Hair growth, muscle development, height… We’re growing in the simulation. And if what research I've found is right. We’re growing way more developed than we should. I don’t have hard facts, but the chat mentioned that we’re quickly approaching national records for how fast we move.” Mirror-Izuku laughed, voice heavy and sarcastic. “And we’re nowhere near done yet. The geeks in the chat think that Prey is about our head. About Neuroplasticity. There's a… final test. I can’t even remember all of it, just a sudden sensation of pain.” 

 

Past Izuku sighed. “And then, you have to destroy Talos 1. The trolly problem from the tests, remember? Destroy the station, kill the Typhon… and anyone on the station. No survivors. It’s the only way. Alex will try and stop you. Don’t listen to him.”

 

Izuku met his past self’s gaze once more.

 

“Good luck.”

 

The video ended, and Izuku let out a deep breath.

 

He had been fine with most of the video. The confirmation that he was changing, that something about the simulation was changing his body, was terrifying. The memory manipulation was worrying.

 

But beyond all of that. Despite all the commentary… there was only one part where the recording hadn’t rung true.

 

The part about not trusting Alex Yu had felt like a lie.

---

Now

Momo slowed to a stop, taking in the front of the building before her, before raising a hand to hide a smile.

 

A short building, with a rounded top floor, and a row of windows below it, tucked away between a tall brownstone apartment complex and a short bakery.

However, the building stood out. Bright blue paint made a pair of smiling eyes above the windows, and the rest of the building as a bright and cheerful yellow, with the twin F’s and G of Fat Gum’s costume traced in white and orange around a neon sign with the hero’s name in bright blue.

 

The building was friend shaped. It almost looked like a giant Matryoshka doll! She couldn’t resist the urge to snap a photo of the building, sending it to the groupchat. With that done, she crossed the street and headed for the door.

 

The reception room for the office was done in bright blue for the walls, with the Fat Gum logo painted behind the counter in bright yellow. The receptionist herself was wearing a black and white dress, with yellow flowers around her collar and shoulders. It took only a second to realize that the flowers weren’t part of her outfit, but signs of some sort of quirk.

 

“Hello! How can I help you?”

 

“Ah, yes! I’m Yaoyorozu Momo. I’m supposed to be interning under Fat Gum?”

 

“Ah, of course!” As the receptionist grinned happily, the flowers around her neck seemed to twitch and bloom even larger. “I’m Shinohara Madoka, the receptionist! Here, I have a badge for you, and then you should go up towards Fat Gum’s office! He should be ready for you just about now!”

 

Momo grinned, feeling as if Shinohara’s enthusiasm was infectious! As she took the badge, she bowed. “Thank you so much!”

 

“Of course! I hope you enjoy your time with us, Yaoyorozu-san!”

 

‘Yes’ Momo thought, heading for the elevator. ‘I think I will!’

---

Then

Izuku was settled in behind his desk, sitting in his chair as he looked over the pair of vials.

 

The one he had picked up from Calvino’s office was marked with the code 'IM-3-Movement’. Just from the name he was expecting a catalogue of his time moving around the station. Possibly including space movement? He slid it aside, and picked up the other one.

 

The one that was giving nothing but bad vibes.

 

“ IM-Accumulative-Toughness.1 ”

 

He had a few minutes now to consider just what he would get from a vial about ‘Toughness’. Maybe how to take a hit? Or push through impact. Tips for lessening damage? He couldn’t say for sure, but all of those thoughts could work. They rang with a bit of that odd ‘deja-vu’ that said they were kind of right. The odd sense of ‘familiarity’ to those concepts was…. Odd. 

 

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Less ‘I remember this’ and more ‘something walking on my grave’.

 

He glanced at his transcribe to check his status one last time before he began.

 

Neurological Integrity: 96.22% 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Good enough for him.

 

Loading the movement neuromod into place, he settled in his chair, and lifted the injector to line with his eye socket once more.

 

A slow breath, to calm himself.

 

And then the snick of the needles deploying was the last thing before he was lost….

 

In a sea of movement.

 

Steps on staggered metal beams, the floor far below as he moved with loping steps, arms at his side for balance, precise steps pushing from bar to bar-

 

-adrenaline burning his veins as he sprinted, twisting to clear a table even as it shattered under the touch of something massive, something terrifyingly powerful that was on his tail-

 

-the drift of motion as he landed on the side of a gleaming white space shuttle, hand grabbing the edge of a wing and turning a fast movement into a curve, the other arm coming up, pistol in his hand as he aimed at something glowing bright yellow/gold-

 

-Falling down an elevator shaft, boots flickering with thrust even as he grabbed a thrashing cable with his arms, slowing his descent with a desperate scream of exertion-

 

-hitting the ground and rolling back up, a pair of handguns in his grasp-

 

-taking a desperate, full sprint, towards the edge of a platform… And leaping, filled with the faith that he was moving fast enough, that he had the right angle, to clear the gap.

 

With a hiss, the needle receded, and Izuku blinked. 

 

One down.

 

Leaning back he couldn’t stop the beating of his heart, the memory of adrenaline rushes in his veins.

 

Of the euphoria that was freefalling, knowing you could land.

 

He glanced at his transcribe, and refreshed his monitor system.

 

Neurological Integrity: 90.04% 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

That was good, he was confident that he could take the second right now, and get plenty of time to adjust before he did another neuromod session.

 

He reached down for the other mod, ejecting the empty cartridge of the first, and cleaning the injector.

 

He blinked away a small bead of red, ignoring it as he felt it run down his cheek.

 

Breathing slowly, he let his heart rate slow once more.

 

Lifting the injector, he felt it reattach to his eye socket and took another slow breath.

 

He pulled the trigger, ignoring the slight hint of hesitation.

 

He couldn’t afford to stop. Not now.

 

The needle fired, connecting with his brain through his eye socket.

 

And he was right. The feeling was for a reason.

 

Injector still attached, needle still embedded…

 

Izuku could only scream.

 

For the way this neuromod taught toughness….

 

Was by remembering pain.

---

Now

Jirou looked around. The office building that her GPS had sent her too was… fairly bland. It looked like any other office building, with pale concrete walls and rows of windows alternating up the side. Glancing around the entrance, she saw a list of offices by the door, some of the paper names yellowed and faded.

 

“Edgeshot…. Edgeshot….”

 

No luck. There goes the easy way.

 

She reread the email quickly.

 

“ Dear Jirou Kyouka, your application has been accepted …. That's the right address… please arrive no later than 20:00 hours …”

 

Frowning, she slid her phone back into her jacket and decided the first thing she should do is see if there was a receptionist or something.

 

Pushing into the lobby, she looked around.

 

There was an older woman, grey hair in a near bun and wearing a tan suit sitting at the receptionist desk. Taking a breath, Kyouka put on her best ‘professional young woman’ face and walked to the desk.

“Hello, I was told that Edgeshot was expecting me?”

 

The woman looked up, half moon glasses glinting from the bridge of her nose, revealing compound insect-like eyes.

 

“Ah, yes. Seventh floor. He’s expecting you. Good luck.”

 

Nodding, Kyouka headed for the elevator, hiding a flinch as she caught a murmur from the woman.

 

“I hope you can keep up.”

---

Then

How do you learn to take a punch?

 

It’s a question that rises in martial arts, particularly full contact martial arts.

 

Boxers call it the ‘Flinch’ instinct. The expectation of pain causes you to tense, for eyes to close and body to curl away from the impact.

 

Most boxers spend large chunks of time fighting to unlearn the flinch, to remain loose, to keep their eyes open.

 

But that’s only part of taking a punch.

 

What about the pain?

 

The sting of flesh, the ache of muscles.

 

How do you learn to read your body?

 

The common answer is experience.

 

You practice.

 

And practice.

 

…

 

Izuku didn’t get that luxury.

 

Instead, his lesson was brutal.

 

Izuku shook, his body tensing and flexing, muscles spasming as he gripped the desk in front of him, even as the Neuromod stayed in his skull, as the rest of his ‘lesson’ played out.

 

Phantom sensations burned through his skin. The impact of blunt objects mixed with the breathless sensation of being slammed into walls and floors. 

 

The sharp, almost cool sensation of blades contrasted with the ragged burn of claws or machinery that stripped at his flesh.

 

He had locked his body in place, focing himself to hold still, to keep the Neuromod in place even as he felt the consequences of fucking it up, the sensation of his eye popping in it’s socket.

 

He felt the burn of flames.

 

The chill of space.

 

The pain of electricity.

 

He gave one shuddering breath after another.

 

His exhales sounded more like screams, his one un-covered eye dripping tears, even as a trickle of blood came down the other cheek.

 

For what felt like hours, but must have been only minutes… Izuku survived hell. Injuries large and small danced and relived their existence in his nerves. The sensation of pain . Of injury tracing across his body in ever more sadistic waves.

 

And then, with a click, the injector slid free, and unlatched.

 

Clumsy hands and numb fingers caught it, barely.

 

Izuku blinked, tears of salt and blood tracing down his cheeks as he leaned back, breathing harsh and heavy.

 

On the desk, the transcribe beeped as it updated.

 

Neurological Integrity: 68.42% 

Neuromod Stability: Low.

Warning: Do not attempt Neuromod integration at this time.

 

Izuku closed the transcribe and tried to stand, pushing up only to lose his balance, crashing to the ground as his entire body twitched with pain.

 

He pushed himself up on shaky arms, staring at the floor even as bright red spots began to drip onto the carpet.

 

Izuku barely had time to register the way his vision was wavering, his blood pressure dropping.

 

“Ah…. Shit.”

 

And with a thud, he collapsed, and the world went dark.

---

Now

The crack of flesh on flesh echoed through the room, echoing off dust covered floors as the two fought in the gym.

 

Miruko kicked high, leg swinging through where Midoriya’s torso had just been as the teen twisted down, tapping the floor with his hand only to push up, letting a sweeping foot pass beneath him as he kicked off the ground, slamming his elbow forward into her gut, sending the two breaking away. 

 

As Rumi stepped back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, arms raised, hands loose and open, Midoriya settled across from her, feet planted loosely, even as he swayed back and forth, alternating his balance on each leg as he watched her..

 

‘Something’s not adding up.’

 

Rumi narrowed her eyes, considering what she was seeing even as she moved in for another quick exchange. The two had been sparring for almost half an hour so far… but not once had Midoriya decided to start a bout. His eyes had been steady, his responses measured and well performed…

 

But still, he was holding back. 

 

He wasn’t fighting .

 

Stepping back from a jab, she scowled at the teen.

 

“Is this really all you want?”

 

Izuku didn’t answer, but he did slow, coming to a stop with eyes locked on her.

 

“You didn’t choose me to learn how to fight . You know how to fight.” And it was true. There wasn’t a cohesive style, nothing that Rumi could point at and say ‘Boxer’ ‘MMA’ or ‘Kung Fu’. Instead Midoriya was a mesh of basics for almost everything, the edges filed off and polished until he was a master of his own body. The teen was a brawler, movements that she was sure were from knife or sword work integrated with sharp jabs and brutal kicks, along with an entire set of skills for pinning an opponent in place. “Why are you here, Midoriya? Are you just going to waste my time?”

 

Midoriya looked away, leaving her in his peripheral even as he looked almost contrite.

 

“Sorry-”

 

“Don’t fucking apologize.” Rumi punctuated her words with a snap kick, Midoriya raising his arms to block even as the force sent him back against the ropes.

 

Even as he steadied himself, she was moving in, kicking out while talking. “You came here to let loose, and learn how to handle your rage.” Another kick crashed into his guard, pinning him to the ropes. “I Know it.” Another, this time even harder, the teen wincing as his guard almost buckled. “You Know it.” She spun, and hooked her other foot around his side. For a split second she caught his pained expression, before he was sent crashing into the corner of the ring.

 

“So either come at me without holding back, or go home.”

 

For a long moment, there was silence.

 

And then Midoriya rose to his feet, half turned away from her, his hair was undone, the loose braid half unravelled around his face..

 

He breathed in, long and slow.

 

“Sorry. I see what I was doing wrong.”

 

The words were accompanied by an exhale that almost hissed through his teeth.

 

A shake of his arms, the dark red across the back where he was guarding already slowly turning black and purple.

 

The pale color of his complexion was receding, a healthy flush racing up his neck and down his arms, bringing a brighter tone to his skin.

 

And then it hit.

 

A wave of something that felt like killing intent.

 

Of sheer emotional resonance.

 

Izuku turned his head, and his eyes were blown wide open, the narrow ring of iris gleaming like a fresh cut emerald around an endless black pupil.

 

“Let me try again? I promise… this time I won't hold back.”

 

A twitch brought his lips into something almost like a smile.

 

Rumi couldn’t help the bloodthirsty grin that broke her own smile, her own Intent rising against his own.

 

“About damn time.”

 

This time, he didn’t let her set the pace.

 

The cool and collected fighter, the one who anticipated and wove through her every attack was… still there. That gleaming sense of cunning didn’t leave his eyes.

 

But it wasn’t in control.

 

No, that was the berserker.

 

Midoriya kicked off the mat, leaving a rip in the material from the force as he lunged in close.

 

Rumi barely had time to kick up, intercepting his arm with her leg, a grunt forcing her away as Izuku rolled with the motion of her leg, letting it drag him sideways even as he kicked up, slamming his knee into her side, before he landed on his arm, pushing off immediately to kick her in the gut a second time.

 

She got only a split-second to exhale sharply, hissing past her smile, before they were entwined in brutal violence.

 

This time, Midoriya was savage in his pragmatism. He didn’t seem to care about space to dodge. He rolled with every hit that didn’t pass him by with millimeters to spare, taking punishing counters without batting an eye, letting the force of each one roll across his form.

 

A knee to his stomach only meant he pushed off with his legs, lessening the blow even as he turned the force into a shoulder to her jaw.

 

Kicking him off her, only means he would be bouncing off the ropes and right back in the fight.

 

Despite the earlier stated rules, the two didn’t stop at the first sight of blood, courtesy of Rumi’s knee to Midoriya’s jaw, splitting his lip.

 

They were having too much fun, both snarling with a mix of glee and sheer fucking adrenaline.

 

The next blood was Rumi’s, as Midoriya headbut her only a minute later, breaking her nose.

 

Another clash sent them both staggering back, only for them to smile, snarl, and get right back into the thick of it.

---

Then

Izuku stared at his hand, taking in the way it trembled. 

 

Even now, almost half an hour after waking up, his body was still spasming. 

 

‘Neuromods… It’s in the name. It’s fucking with my nervous system. Overloading it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I essentially had a seizure while using the injector.’

 

Clenching his hand in a fist, he breathed in…. And out.

 

With each breath, he slowed the shaking, unclenching his muscles, letting the tension slowly release.

 

‘I need painkillers, possibly medication for seizures and nervous issues. There's a medical lab a floor down, but last I remember it was sealed off…’

 

Izuku sighed, and reached out. He needed to move. To get his body moving, to get it working.

 

As he staggered slightly, he checked the magazine for his pistol, took a deep breath, and headed for the door to the office.

 

“January, hold down the fort. Let me know if anything happens.”

 

It was time to break into another medical wing.

 

... God, this was going to be a habit, wasn’t it.

---

Now

Koda Koji looked around as he got off the bus. This stop was fairly small, just a poured concrete platform with a small sheltered seat and a restroom some distance away. Aside from the road behind him, and the dirt side road that wound down into the forest away from the main road, the rest of the world was reduced to nothing but an endless expanse of deep green forest.

 

Taking a deep breath, Koji felt his tension loosen, that old familiarity coming out.

 

He had always loved the forests and mountains; the deep wilderness had long been a place of sanctuary, often with his uncle at his side to guide him while his parents traveled for their own jobs. But when his quirk came in, trips with his uncle up to Mt. Fuji had been training as well as relaxation. A dozen times a year, he would wander up the back roads and footpaths into the forest, often with only a well-packed hiking bag to his name. After all, few animals scared him.

 

Well… Except for insects. And even with insects it wasn’t that they scared him. It was that they were difficult to understand. They spoke in scents and complex social structures, oftentimes with a mechanical efficiency that was… terrifying in its own way. A single insect was single minded, they only approached something on a level he could truly interact with after they grew into colonies or hives.

 

As he stepped off the concrete onto the gravel, he set his bag down.

 

“Kuro, feel free to stretch your wings. Our pickup should be here soon, after all.”

 

- Yes, Koda-Friend.-   With a flap of his wings, Kuro took off, climbing up in a slow spiral to above the treeline. Stomping slightly, Koji made sure his boots were on tight, and started walking, setting a distance eating lope. The afternoon sun cast the road in light shadow, keeping the sun off his skin even as he took in the forest around him. Already, he could hear the chatter of the animals, his quirk interpreting the chirping of birds and the chattering of squirrels.

 

-Berries! Berries here!-

 

-Fresh water north! Pond! Pond!-

 

With the ease of long practice Koji let his mind sort the commentary, building on his knowledge of the area from the maps he had looked at on the bus ride. The ‘Beast Forest’ was known, after all, for being home to several varieties of quirked animals, as well as the constantly shifting landscape they caused. In fact, last he heard there was an entire pack of moles with variants of earth manipulation quirks at the base of one of the nearby mountains.

Speaking of earth manipulation quirks…

 

A series of birds took off nearby, shouting as they dispersed through the forest.

 

-Loud! Loud Rock! LOUD ROCK!-

 

With a careful step, Koji moved off the road, looking up the path with interest as the sound of an electric motor echoed through the trees.

 

Soon enough, an open-topped jeep came around the corner, slowing as he waved it down.

 

And there, sitting in the passenger and drivers seats, were two of his teachers.

 

“Hiya Kitten! Didn’t expect to see you just yet!”

 

Two of the members of the Wild, Wild Pussycats. 

 

Mandalay grinned at him, and behind her, Tiger nodded, turning the car off.

 

“Hello, Sensei.” Koji gave a big smile, the calm of the forest keeping his usual anxiety at bay. “I figured I wouldn’t wait around.”

 

Tiger gave a sharp nod, a grin on his face. “Good initiative! Come! Toss your bags in the back and climb in. We’ll swing around and head back!” As Koji stepped to the back, he set his bags in the trunk, and looked up at the small yelp of Mandalay.

 

There, perched on the rollbar of the jeek, Kuro was perched, the hawk swallowing a small furred lump. 

 

Tiger chuckled as Kuro hopped over to where Koji was standing, fluttering to his shoulder. “Buddy of yours?”

 

Koji nodded. “This is Kuro, my scout and tracker. Kuro, this is Tiger and Mandalay, two of my teachers.”

 

As Mandalay seemed to calm down and Tiger grinned, Kuro gave a short bob of his head, something comparable to a bow.

 

-Old hunters are good. Young hunters should watch. Learn.-

 

As Koji settled in, Kuro taking off again, the jeep moved and turned around at a small widening of the road.

 

Soon enough, the three were driving back into the forest, Tiger focused on the road as they sped through the trees. Mandalay turned back, raising her voice over the sound of the car. “Well! First things first. I’m Sosaki Shino, though you probably know me as Mandalay. The big hunk driving is Chatora Yawara. But you can just call him Tiger, everyone does!”

 

“Koda Koji… Though I guess you can call me Anima?”

 

Mandalay grinned. “I like it! Descriptive and short! We’ll be at our home soon, and we’ll get you settled in. I look forward to working with you!”

 

“Same here!”

 

And Koji really was.

 

Izuku had helped him sort through the offers he had gotten, but it turned out the WWP were actually affiliates of UA, and one of the 50 ‘Default’ options students could choose. And they were possibly the best choice for him. Based out in the Beast Forest as caretakers of the woods, and renowned for rescue and emergency response. They had an earth manipulator, a telepath, a CQC fighter, and a person who could identify weak points. Izuku had called them an ‘All Rounder’ team, and pointed at how much help they could be to Koji specifically. Anivoice, afterall, was technically a ‘Telepathic’ quirk. Animals could hear him because his vocal waves were psionically coded to convey meaning, and he picked up animals ‘talking’ because he was reading their minds and body language .

 

With luck, Mandalay would help him increase the skill with which he could convey information, and the rest of the WWP would help him improve his basics and strengthen his fundamentals. And beyond that, could help him develop teamwork with his animal companions.

 

Koji looked up at Kuro, matching the jeep's traveling speed far above.

 

‘And if Izuku and I are right, Ragdoll’s Identify quirk might even be able to solve a mystery or two.’

---

Then

Izuku lifted up the red keycard for the ‘Trauma Center’ and held it to the sensor.

 

He was… sore.

 

His entire body felt like a massive bruise, and he couldn’t stop fucking twitching.

 

It hadn’t taken long to find the keycard, just breaking into the staff room nearby. The issue had been more the collection of Mimics he had to take down. Even now, he limped slightly. He had missed a shot, leaving one with time to lash at his leg. 

 

He didn’t miss the next time he shot it.

 

He just hoped that there was something in here that could help. 

 

The lock finally turned green, and Izuku opened the door.

 

Only to pause.

 

There was a turret right before him, the gun mounted at a loose angle to the side, and the arm holding it up half melted.

 

Not… a good sign.

 

But…

 

He reached out, and grabbed the gun. Turning it, he stared at the firing assembly.

 

He… could fix this.

 

Looking past the turret, he took in the empty lobby of the trauma center. He could hear, oh so faint, the sound of something further in.

 

Reaching down, he lifted the base of the turret up, the mechanisms closing it back into a box, though with the gun still half stuck out of the hatch.

 

Stepping back, he closed the door and tapped it with the keycard.

 

‘Fight smarter, not harder. If Mimics are enough to hurt me right now, I need to get a home field advantage.’

 

Moving the turret over his shoulder, he headed back to the office.

 

He needed the workshop for this.

---

Now

“Ah, you must be Miss Yaoyorozu!”

 

Momo barely had time to react before she was encased in a soft yellow pillow, a pair of massive arms wrapping around her. 

 

If anyone asked, the squeak she made was out of surprise. Definitely not out of how much Fat Gum looked like a giant plush Matryoshka doll. Or how soft he was.

 

As the embrace ended, she staggered slightly, dropping back to her feet on the ground from where she had been lifted up. As she regained her balance, the yellow blob stepped back, revealing Fat Gum smiling widely.

 

Fighting down a blush, Momo stood up straight and tried to be professional. “Hello sir! Yaoyorozu Momo reporting for duty!”

 

Fat Gum’s smile got larger, and he laughed. “Wonderful! Come with me, please! You’re just in time for a late lunch! I’ll introduce you to my other intern, and we can discuss the plans for the week!”

 

Momo nodded, and followed the larger man through the halls.

 

As she moved, she noticed the large doors everywhere, built on the same scale as the doors she saw around UA. In fact, she noticed that the scale of everything was sized slightly taller and broader than she expected. The hallway itself was wide enough for her to walk side by side with Fat Gum, with space to move!

 

In the back of her head, she could almost hear Izuku’s muttering assessment. ‘Wide enough to fight as well. No natural choke points.’

 

As she followed Fat Gum through a doorway, she found herself in a comfortable looking cafeteria. A few tables with wide, flat benches for seating sat around the room, and the back wall was lined with a professional kitchen, where an older man with dusky skin and short red hair was flipping a massive wok. The man was also wearing a double-breasted yellow chef’s jacket, and black slacks.

 

As they got closer, he glanced back, revealing grey eyes that looked over them, a toothpick flicking from his lips as he chewed on it. “Evening boss. New recruit?” 

 

“Ah, Shi-chan! Yes, this is Yaoyorozu Momo! We’ll be drawing up a diet plan for her stay in a few hours!” Fat Gum’s exuberance was clear, and the chef raised an eyebrow.

 

“Ah, that's really not nece-”

 

“Nonsense! Much like myself, your diet is important for your quirk! You should work on developing good habits now!” Fat Gum smiled, clapping his hands on his gut with a smack.

 

Momo couldn’t help the surge of nervousness. A diet? She couldn’t help the memory of old classmates that flickered through her mind. After all, even while in private school, there were always cliques and social hierarchies… subtle as they may be. And for all her family’s success, that didn’t make her immune to them. She had found that UA was far less cutthroat than the confines of the upper class. At least at UA no one ever gossiped about her meal sizes.

 

She was apparently wrong for expecting that trend to-

 

“Taishirou you moron!” Fat Gum ducked, a streak of tan blurring through where his head was. When the toothpick embedded in the wall behind him, a wooden spoon cracked over the larger man's head, now in easy reach for the much shorter chef. “You’re giving her anxiety! Go get Tama-chan up here. I’ll run damage control for your big mouth.”

 

“Ah, of course! I’m so sorry Yao-chan!” As Fat Gum sped out, the chef sighed, and turned to a frozen and confused Momo.

 

“Miss, we don’t mean ‘Limiting your intake’ when we talk about diet. We mean what nutrients you need for the best utility.” The chef’s voice, with a faint accent she couldn’t place, was calming and matter of fact. “Fat Gum requires high levels of protein, gluten, and polyunsaturated fats for his body and quirk. Our other intern, Suneater, requires high levels of omega-3, keratin related Amino acids, and complex sugars. I, personally, require some level of alcohol in my daily diet for my quirk. We’re going to help you find out what your body needs the most of.”

 

Momo couldn’t help the high blush, and the tears in her eyes. “I… I’m sorry for assume-”

 

“None of that.” A calloused hand reached up with a handkerchief, and it was only then that she realized the chef was nearly half a head shorter than her. “We’re here to help you be the best hero you can be. Sometimes that means we have to explain stuff.”

 

Momo took the cloth gratefully, wiping at her face. “Thank you, um….”

 

The chef smiled. “Shirou Yukihara, Fat Gum’s personal chef and sidekick. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Yaoyorozu.”

 

And then Fat Gum poked his head around the shoulder. “We okay? I’ve got Tamaki!”

 

The chef rolled his eyes and walked back towards the kitchen. “Yes, you big lug. Get in here. Food is almost done.”

 

As Fat Gum entered, Momo almost missed the dark-haired teen at his side. Tall and slender, with elven features and a white and yellow cloak, the young man looked anxious. 

 

“Ah, Yao-chan! This is Suneater! My other Intern.” The hero clapped on the teen shoulder, sending him a half step further… but not actually staggering him? Curious.

 

Regardless, she stepped forwards and bowed slightly. “Ah… hello.”

“...Hi.” 

 

What could have been an awkward moment was broken when suddenly four massive bowls were set at the table, steaming stir-fry piled high.

 

“Lunch is served. Come, sit down and dig in. We can talk about the plan as we eat.” Shirou said, even as he placed chopsticks around the table.

---

Then

Izuku crouched around the edge of the receptionist’s deck, looking down the hallway into the trauma center.

 

He locked eyes on his target and slowly leaned back, thunking his head lightly on the wall.

 

“It’s on fire. Why the fuck is it on fire? Can’t it just throw lightning like the other ones?”

 

He took a slow exhale, and reached down. 

 

From a new bag at his side, he pulled out a glass bottle and weighed it. He couldn't risk a recycler charge in here. There was stuff in Medical that he needed. And he didn’t have the parts for a noisemaker right now.

 

So, it was time for a classic, low-tech solution.

 

Checking, he made sure he had a line to the doorway, made sure the GLOO gun at his side was fully loaded, and took a breath.

 

He had no idea if this would actually work, but he was hopeful.

 

Standing up, he stepped around the corner, drew his arm back, and chucked the bottle down the hallway as hard as he could, right at the phantom.

 

The crack of shattering glass on alien flesh was all too satisfying, but he was already turned back and sprinting for the door by the time the first ball of fire was thrown his way.

 

The screeching of the phantom echoed after him, and Izuku grinned as he sprinted across the stairwell towards the door into the employee lounge, before twisting and hitting the ground on his knees, facing back towards the door, GLOO gun up and ready.

 

The Phantom flickered into existence in the doorway wreathed in fire.

 

And from Izuku’s side, the turret began to fire.

 

It had been reinforced and modified, the ability to collapse it for easy relocation replaced by multiple layers of shielding around the struts and two wide wings for easy cover around the gun itself.

 

Freshly reloaded, fully charged, and fortified, it unloaded on the Phantom even as Izuku joined in.

 

The flames were snuffed out, GLOO smacking into the fire and melting into long splatters of solidified foam, even as the gun blew hole after hole into the aliens torso.

 

By the time Izuku had to reload, the turret had stopped.

 

Where before the Alien had been standing, now it lay in chunks of foam and alien limbs across the front of the bullet-holed receptionist desk.

 

“Good fucking job, T-2.”

 

The turret gave a pleased chirp, and Izuku rose up.

 

“Right, now that that’s dead… Let's get healed up. Watch the door for me, yeah?”

 

The turret gave a confirming tone, and began to slowly scan the landing from its perch.

 

Izuku gave it a pat on the sensor, and headed in.

 

“Now… if I was storing the good drugs… where would I put them…”

---

Now

Jirou looked around the office. Edgeshot was sitting at the desk, looking over a binder. “Apologies for the lack of a greeting. We’ve only just moved into the office.”

 

Marking his place, he slid the binder to the side.

 

“Sadly, I’m afraid my original plan for your training is going to be unfeasible. I had hoped to spend time in my dojo with you, possibly give you some hands-on experience with both swordplay and working in the field doing recon.”

 

“And now?”

 

The Ninja Hero sighed. “Many of the top ranking heroes, myself included, have been set with the task of tracking and detaining the Hero-Killer Stain. I refuse, however, to put a freshly minted hero at risk facing a deadly killer. You’ll spend some time with me, but for most of the patrols you go on I’ll be leaving you to several of my sidekicks.” Grey eyes focused on Jirou. “I don’t say this to disparage you, or dismiss your skill. You’ll be an immense help regardless, considering the amount of crime in Hosu skyrocketed after the Ingenium attack. Copycats, opportunists, and all manner of villains follow in the Hero-Killer’s wake, and your skill at scouting will be invaluable. Stain, however, is not your responsibility. If you find him, you inform me or whoever is currently training you. Do you understand?”

 

Kyouka nodded. “Of course.”

 

Edgeshot sighed. “Thank you.”

 

He looked around. “Feel free to go and settle in. Kunai and Sai should be out in the offices, they can direct you where to bunk down. And Jirou?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Welcome to the agency.”

---

Then

Good news! He had found the drugs.

 

Even better news, he found a medical robot that wasn’t fucking crazy.

 

“Oh my. You’ve suffered quite an unusual injury.”

 

Izuku stared at the Operator from where he sat on the counter.

 

“You don’t say. Heal me up?”

 

“Proceeding with medical treatment. ”

 

The light green Operator was marked with a white cross, and slowly floated around Izuku. He had stripped his suit to the waist, revealing bruised skin and muscles to the floating robot. As it passed by a wound, it would stop, scan the injury with a bright white light, and then reach out with manipulators. For some wounds it was merely spraying a pale cream over the injury. But for several electrical burns it actually injected him with something, and over his wrist it actually had him move his hand through several stretches to make sure it wasn’t broken.

 

It had also dispensed several pills that would help with the Neurological damage.

 

As Izuku sat there, he breathed in.

 

And then froze.

 

From the back corner of the lab, past the surgical table, he heard a thump.

 

And a faint shout.

 

“Help!”

---

Now

Miruko breathed out, leaning forwards, her foot planted on Midoriya’s chest.

 

The two of them were bruised and battered, but even in the depths of their bloodlust, neither had gone for a maiming strike.

 

Miruko was also fairly certain her sports bra was ruined, considering she had been bleeding from her nose on and off for half an hour, even after resetting it during the fight when she got a moment of breathing room.

 

The fact that Midoriya had spent that same breathing room relocating a shoulder was likely a sign that they had really gone too far.

 

As she stared down, Midoriya closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Through the pads of her feet, she could feel the way his heartbeat skipped, and then began to drop, slowing down drastically. 

 

By the time he opened his eyes, the emerald green was muted, back into a dark forest color, and his pupils were no longer blown wide open with adrenaline.

 

“You back with me, kid?”

 

He looked at her with a roll of his eyes. “Can you get your foot off my chest? It’s pressing on a bruise.”

 

Moving her leg, she held out a hand, and the teen grabbed on and pulled.

 

With a yank, the teen had his arm over her shoulder, all while he hissed at the movement.

 

“Don’t be a bitch. I didn’t break anything.”

 

“Yeah yeah. Still fucking stings.”

 

Walking out of the ring, they two ignored the way one corner of the ring was absolutely destroyed, the post all but snapped in half and one of the ropes hanging loose from where it should have been.

 

Miruko was fairly certain that the post was her fault, but the rope was Midoriya’s.

 

As she lowered the teen onto a bench, he gave a groan of relief and slumped down.

 

Honestly, she didn’t blame him.

 

“Right, I’m ordering take out. Are you good with Korean?” She dug through the gym bag she had left out, pulling out her phone and a new bra, as well as an actual shirt.

 

“Yes. Please. Food.”

 

“Cool. Don’t worry, I'll just get one of everything. We’ll eat most of it over the next few days.” 

 

She turned back when she felt his gaze on her.  Green eyes were assessing, almost curious, despite the way one of them was half swollen from a punch. “And what are we doing over the next few days?”

 

Miruko gave a long look, before chuckling. Might as well tell the truth, he probably could already read her tells.

 

“It’s simple. I’m going to give you a crash course on paperwork, work on your kicks, and get my nurse in here for a quick recovery.”

 

Miruko had a split second of second-guessing herself, before she continued. After all, the kid was almost at her level in a straight fight, and that was without a sword.

And she needed a swordsman if she was going to hunt one.

 

“And when we’re healed up, you and me are going to track down Stain .”

 

Chapter 50: Conditioning

Now
Shigaraki Tomura paced through the halls of the Doctor's experiments, his single red eye roving over the tall glass cylinders as he passed them.

 

Many of these Nomu were failures. Not even fit for the most basic of tasks. From the braindead, often with the brain exposed and beyond recovery, to the poorly mutated, marked by asymmetrical and warped limbs that would be unwieldy on even the most trained of beasts. When they were tried and found wanting, the quirks that had been implanted to each were stripped to be used again, leaving only these… husks in the wake.

 

Perhaps it was a form of intimidation to put the lab Sugoh was left in behind the failures. A snide comment between peers, a show of dismissal of the newcomer’s strengths.

 

Or perhaps Tomura was merely reading too far into it…

 

Nah, the scientists were definitely having a dick measuring contest.

 

He finally reached the end of the hall, stepping out onto the gantry that surrounded Sugoh’s area.

 

The walls were lined with row upon row, stack upon stack, of hotwired and interconnected computer cores, many with wires dangling like a mismatched spider's web as they were bundled into massive lengths of cordage that ran along the edges of the room haphazardly, all finally coming to rest plugged into a massive bank of screens and inputs mounted into the brick wall at the back of the room. 

 

Even from the gantry above, Tomura could see the mist of his breath on the air, and trace the thick lines of frost that coated the pipes of liquid nitrogen that circled the area, keeping the computers cold enough to function under the stresses of Sugoh’s quirk, and leaving a prevailing mist across the floor courtesy of the computers themselves.

 

In the center, several oversized medical gurneys lay out in rows, each empty, but with a screen at their heads, three of them showing what looked like a first person view, each of them different fights, but all with the same consistent imagery.

 

A green-haired low polygon figure with a sword, lashing out at them, in different poses and scenarios.

 

As Tomura gave the room one last cursory glance, he focused his sight on the scientist himself.

 

“Sugoh.”

 

He didn’t raise his voice, no. He instead pitched it just sharp enough. The tones piercing the constant whirring of fans and computer banks.

 

With a jump, the redheaded man looked up. His face was flushed from the cold, a long white lab coat shining with condensation over a thick grey turtleneck and scarf as he shifted and looked up. “Ah! Shigaraki-Sama! It’s been too long! The Hunter-Killers are progressing wonderfully, but if I had more computers-” Tomura ignored the sudden spike of annoyance. This was the third time this week he had asked for more resources, without even supplying a single Hunter-Killer for actual use yet. “-My progress would increase exponentially!”

 

Walking along the catwalk, Tomura left his right side facing Sugoh. He had heard that the scarring made people… uncomfortable.

 

Good.

“I do believe, Sugoh, that we’ve discussed this. Your old simulation computer is on the list to be acquired, but until we recover it…”  He reached the steps and took the first three, before slowing, tilting his head so the small black patch of his right eye faced Sugoh, “Or if a Hunter-Killer proves viable, your current setup will have to suffice.” His new sight focused, piercing through the dampening material with a flicker of effort, leaving a clear impression of the way that Sugoh’s heart… skipped a beat, the consistent movement picking up rate erratically.

 

‘Wonderful.’

 

“Fret not.” he drew the words out as he looked back, taking the final few steps down. “I have a perfect opportunity for you to… prove your worth.”

 

“Anything.”

 

And there it was… the manic, almost pleading edge of the man. 

 

“Which of the three would you say is the… weakest. The one with the least potential.”

 

The question clearly sent Sugoh for a loop, but after a moment of thought… “Subject Beta. Alias: Cestus. The augments work well, but it’s reaction time is too slow to take advantage of the movement and combat training.”

 

“I see.” Tomura paced along the lab, good eye on the computers as he listened, his spectral eye tracking the motion of Sugoh nervously following before he reached the screens of the main console.

 

With a soft exhale of white mist, he looked at the scientist with his full attention.

 

“You have three days to finalize the control phrases for Cestus. I could care less about the rest of it’s combat training, what it has now will be enough. It will accompany me on a mission of some importance. If I'm satisfied with how it performs… I will consider increasing the resources at your disposal.”

 

Turning away, he began to walk, his steps leaving a swirling wake in the midst of the computer banks, before pausing once more at the steps up.

 

With a flex of his will, he focused, for a moment, on the sheer weight of his hatred, his undying wish for the destruction of the system that failed him.

On All Might.

On Heroics.

On the Player.

“I would aim not to disappoint, Sugoh Akihiko.”

 

As he left the lab, he caught the faint glimpse of the man collapsing against a gurney, chest heaving, heart racing.

 

Afterall… Killing intent was such an interesting thing to Know.

 

---

Then

The muffled screams were still loud even as Izuku creeped around the back corner of the trauma ward.

 

Into what a sign called the Isolation Cell.

 

He glanced around the corner, and paused.

 

There was a guy in the cell. And seeing Izuku he panicked.

 

“Stay away! If you get too close-” The man swallowed nervously. “If you get too close I'll explode.”

 

Izuku raised his hands up and took a step back. “I’ll stay clear. What happened.”

 

“I was… I was working over in psychotronics. We had a new subject, Typhon psychocratis , it was supposed to be a simple check, see how it responds to some basic interaction. I… must have forgotten my Psychoscope.” the man was shuttering, and Izuku blinked, seeing a faint distortion around the guy's head.

 

“Next thing I know, I’m being dragged in here… The…. The doctors, they were talking abou-”

 

The only warning was the aura suddenly becoming a visible purple flash.

 

And then suddenly the window was covered in red .

 

Izuku’s flinch was almost as bad as the way one of the man's eyes, a misshapen flat disk, was slowly sliding down the glass.

 

But even as Izuku fought down a slight gag reflex, he realized what this was to the simulation.

 

A warning.

 

Somewhere out there was something that could make your head explode.

 

And the only thing that would stop that was something called a Psychoscope.

 

“Fuck.”

 

---

Now

Shoto glanced around the street with a blank expression. The first day of his ‘Internship’ as much as it could be called, had been nothing but lecture after lecture regarding the paperwork and required forms that would be used, delivered by a bored secretary while his father focused on his next ‘Great Conquest '.

 

Stain.

 

The reason why his father had uprooted half of his sidekicks and support staff, bought a half a million yen office for a month, and set up in the tallest highrise in Hosu.

 

Even the various moving boxes had been stashed away, his father’s relentless need for perfection present even now. The offices had the same cold and impersonal air of the ones he had visited all his life.

 

High class in the coldest of ways.

 

An almost ironic contrast to his father’s temper and emotions.

 

“Shoto, do you understand?”

“Yes father.”

 

The man had only repeated this same lecture three times.

‘ When I find Stain, you’ll stay on standby, watching as I take him down-’

 

Suffice to say Shoto understood that he was there for bragging rights and for Endeavor to ‘Impress upon him the reality of the job.’

 

Endeavor gave a self assured huff, his flaming hair burning brighter for a half second.

 

Shoto followed him as he led the way once more down the street.

 

Burnin and Kido both followed behind him. Another pair of sidekicks who bought into his father’s propaganda. Burnin was another fire quirk user, emotional and brash, with a head of green flame for hair that burned brightly around her shoulders. Kido was a quieter man, but not less enthusiastic about his father, his quirk allowing him to redirect attacks through the bandages that wreathed his form.

 

Despite himself, Shoto did have to credit his fathers skill with team composition. With Shoto’s Ice for area denial, they had a variety of combat styles. Offensive, Defensive, Control, Containment… though, much like he expected by now, heavy on the offensive. His father was nothing if not predictable.

 

As the four of them continued their patrol, Shoto would never know that his thoughts were mirrored by the same man they were hunting.

 

The one who was slowly marking out their patterns… tracking them from distant skyscrapers and back alleys, dressed as just another civilian, his face covered by a red face mask and his clothes well worn but well cared for.

 

Just another face in the crowd.

 

Watching… and waiting.

---

Then

Izuku leaned against the railing, a duffle bag full of medical supplies on his back as he looked out over the lobby. He couldn’t see anything right now, but he still hadn’t had time to explore the rest of the ground floor and the far bank of offices.

 

“Right.” He turned back towards the medical operator from the surgery bay. “Head up to Morgan Yu’s office and sync with the dispenser up there.” As the operator gave a beep and began floating up the stairwell, he walked over to T-2. “I’ll be back for you in a minute. Then you and I are gonna work on reinforcing this entire chunk of lobby. You’ll be in charge of watching while I drag your brothers down there for retrofits and reloads. Sounds like a plan?”

The turret gave a happy beep and resumed its slow panning for mimics.

 

Izuku jogged up the stairs, passing by the entrance to the conference room and back into the secretary office outside of Morgan’s main office. There, mounted on the desk with a clear line of sight from the office doors to the stairwell door, was the other modified turret he’d made so far, T-1.

 

“Any contact T-1?”

 

A negative beep echoed back. Unlike T-2, which Izuku had set up to be able to carry around and mount as a defensive hard point, T-1 had been modified more for… Firepower.

 

Its single turret mount now carried two turret-powered 9mm auto-rifles, as well as a spare stun gun he had picked up from back in the hardware labs and wired into the firing system. He had also painted it a bright orange and white, with the ‘T-1’ clearly marked on the heat shield for the guns. To help power all of this, there was also a thick red power line from the base of the turret (now clamped into the desk) into the station's wall panel. With that much fuel, its stun gun wasn’t going to drain anytime soon, and its rifles could actually fire fully auto without draining the turret’s power supply.

 

As he passed through the door, holding it open for the floating medical operator, Izuku walked over towards the desk, setting the bag of medical supplies on Yu’s desk, and unloading it into a basic triage station. He didn’t doubt the ability of the operator, but more than once it had to coach him through some form of operation, or request him for the appropriate material. 

 

It was worth it though. Even now, he felt leagues better. The aches of his joints were down to a manageable level, and his twitch had all but gone away. A little longer for the medicine to kick in and finish the job and he would be… maybe not 100%, but far closer then he was earlier.

 

Sighing he rummaged through his pockets, checking his gear and stashing some of the more basic medical supplies into a pouch.

 

Stocked up, he headed back out of the office, rubbing the barrel of T-1 even as he headed back to the lobby.

 

“Right. I know there's a pair of turrets down by that lower hallway, and there's one near that dry bar…”

 

He only stopped to move T-2 out onto the stairwell, overlooking the lower area, before he picked up his handgun and started moving.

 

“Oh, and before I forget…”

 

He opened the interface for his music, cleared the queue, and reconnected to chat.

 

“If anyone watching wants to keep me company, I get the feeling this is gonna be tedious.”

 

Less than a minute later, he could only pause and laugh at the song that someone chose.

 

“One is the loneliest number that’ll ever doooo~”

---

Now

Kyouka danced back, eyes darting around her as she tried to locate her attackers as she held her sword up. There was a flicker of movement, half hidden in the dark of the room, the sound of something metal on metal from her left, and she ducked.

 

The split-toe boot of Kunai nearly caught her in the head, but as she lashed out the man disengaged. 

 

A loose red tunic and black leggings, and an ornate porcelain looking face mask stared out from the darkness, Kunai was one of the two sidekicks in charge of her training while Edgeshot was on patrol. In homage to his name, his hands were wrapped around the hilt of a pair of the diamond shaped kunai knives, the blunt spikes gleaming with his quirk as he spun and threw one back into the darkness of the obstacle course around them. As the clang of metal on metal rang out, he vanished, leaving Kyouka cursing as she spun around, sword up.

 

Kunai was a ‘touch based’ teleporter. His kunai were custom forged to channel his quirk, letting him travel to wherever they made contact.

 

As she listened for the sound of metal, she also glanced up and across the roof, focusing in on a heartbeat.

 

While Kunai was a melee specialist, her other mentor for the moment was a stealth and recon specialist. And as she glanced around, she saw him.

 

Black cloth was wound tightly around his body, a shock of dark blue hair hanging loose over dark skin and a black facemask. The man was standing sideways off one of the rafters, his quirk clearly in use.

 

Afterall, Sai could stand on any surface, and make it oriented as his personal ‘Down’. 

 

When she locked eyes with him, he gave a single lackadistic wave, and dropped from his perch-

 

And Jirou barely dodged another attack from Kunai, ducking as he swiped an arm past her head.

 

“Can’t be distracted, Jirou-kun. Eyes on the prize.”

 

She lashed out with the messer, but before she could make contact he had already vanished, the clang of metal on metal ringing out once more.

 

They were forcing her to split her attention, to keep track of both targets.

 

To think fast.

 

She couldn’t help a nearly feral grin as she raced to meet the challenge.

---

Then

Izuku frowned as he paced around the central elevator of the lobby. It had taken only about half an hour to clear out the ground floor enough for him to get to work on reinforcing things, but now he was stuck working out how to fortify a location.

 

Which was odd, because most of his time on the Sevastopol was about breaking into fortified positions.

 

The issue was the elevator, it punched straight through the center of the lobby, essentially splitting the area in half. The back half, where the office was, and the half with the massive panoramic glass window out into space.  And that wasn’t even counting that the other end of the lobby, under the offices, was a tunnel leading into the sealed off shuttle bay of the station. It made sight lines a fucking nightmare for the turrets. He had three major chokepoints, and only five turrets.

 

Speaking of… Izuku lifted the collapsed form of what he was planning to make T-5 and set it on the counter next to the similarly collapsed T-3 and T-4. The three turrets were all suffering some minor damage, but not enough to impede operations. The larger issue was that all three were just about out of ammo. Though, with the amount of recycled materials he had gathered already, he doubted that would stay a problem.

 

Glancing around, Izuku looked up, taking in the balcony on the second level, near the employee cafeteria.

 

“Hmmm… that would cover the lobby itself. And then another one watching each side of the pillar. One for the tunnel.” That was all five of the turrets available, but he wants a pair on the tunnel. There was also that catwalk on the window side of the lobby where a turret would be a good place. Particularly if he was able to adjust it to hang off the side... 

 

Right, he needed more turrets.

 

He considered for a moment before looking back towards the hardware lab. If he was right… there were a pair of still unused ones near the other security booth, the one back in Hardware….

 

Lifting T-3 and T-4 by their carrying handles, He jogged back to the stairwell and headed up.

 

He’ll leave these ones in the workshop, go clear out the security booth from hardware for their turrets, and then come back and work out the specifics of where he wanted the turrets.

---

Now

Koji glanced over the sea of trees before him, holding out his arm for Kuro to return and perch, the bird clad in its ‘Heroics’ vest, the camera mounted on it’s breast gleaming slightly. The sun was high, casting the forest in shades of bright green and gold. 

 

As he looked out, he took a moment to reflect on how he got here.

 

His morning had started early, waking up before dawn to Tiger’s prodding, and getting in a morning routine of yoga and some cardio before eating. 

 

Thankfully, he hadn’t been expected to keep up with Tiger’s quirk enhanced flexibility, focusing instead on his core strength and posture. After working up a sweat with Tiger, he had gathered with the rest of the cats for a hearty breakfast. Afterwards, they had laid out the general schedule for his week.

 

In the mornings from dawn until lunch he was going to be working on combat and physicals with Tiger, and quirk training with Mandalay. The stretches and cardio before breakfast, and then sparring, strength training, and endurance training would be done in rotation with voice practice, tactics conversations, and teamwork exercises with his companions until the afternoon.

 

But in the afternoon, he was going to be working on practical exercises with Pixiebob and Ragdoll. 

 

Exercises like the one he was doing now.

 

After lunch, Pixiebob had tossed him a communicator, an earpiece, and a basic smartphone.

 

Opening up his phone he got a message that was designed to mimic the type he would get from most rescue agencies.

‘EMERGENCY SITUATION-
Four hikers have gone missing in the Beast forest, last coordinates below. Emergency call from hikers says they encountered a rabid beast and it’s been chasing them. Prioritize rescue and evacuation.’

 

And that led to here.

 

-”Kuro, any sign?”-

 

The bird shook his head. -Not here. No fresh kills. No hunters.-

 

He nodded, and glanced at a map he had on the ground, unfolded to the topographical survey of the area. -”Search further north. I’m heading south, circling to the high ground. Three calls for any sightings.”-

 

-Of course-

 

Kuro took off, and Koji folded the map, sliding it into a pocket inside the flannel he was wearing.

 

Taking off, he sped up slightly. While he was sore from this morning, he knew how to pace himself. Each step was light and easy, a ground eating jog that he could keep for hours as he headed up. He kept his ears open, listening to the forest and its occupants for any news. When nothing stood out, he tapped his comms.

 

“Anima to base. The provided coordinates didn’t show anyone. Any news from the hikers?”

 

“Base to Anima. No contact from hikers since the original emergency call. What are your thoughts Anima?”

 

Koji hummed slightly under his breath even as he breathed steadily, reaching the base of the first hill leading up to the small cliff he had marked as ‘High ground’. 

 

“My companion is starting a search to the north of the marked coordinates, I’ve headed south to higher ground. Permission to employ my quirk more? I want to recruit more searchers for the hikers.”

 

“Permission granted. Contact us when you learn anything. Base Out.”

 

“Anima out.”

 

As the comm went silent, Koda picked up the pace, clamoring up the hill at an angle, eyes constantly swapping from his path up through the sparse trees and locks and out across the forest to his right.

 

Seeing the first birds that hadn’t taken off yet, he began to call out. Keeping his voice clear and pitched to carry.

 

-”Offering seeds for assistance! Fresh sunflower seeds for assistance”-

---

Then

Izuku set T-7 down with a clunk of finality.

 

“There we go.” 

 

He had a base now.

 

Morgan Yu’s office was as secure as he could make it. A place he could retreat to to heal up or fix his gear when he needed to, guarded by the fully armed T-1. The lobby below was a bit less of a sure thing. There were, afterall, five major exits that led to other wings of the ship. But, with the tunnel to the shuttle bay locked down, the elevator out of commission, until he went to unclog it and the doors to Psychotronics and the Neuromod division next to each other, he was fairly certain he had them locked down.

The issues had been the doorway to hardware. Traveling back through it, especially with two turrets that weighed nearly a dozen Kilo’s each, had been a hassle. He had compromised by planting T-6, the turret he was going to hang from the catwalk, so that it had a clear sightline to the doorway outside of the hardware lab entrance. With that covered, he had reorganized the lower level entirely. Two turrets, T-4 and T-5, flanked the left side of the elevator entrance aimed past the elevator doors towards the doors to Psychotronics and Neuromod. The two had also been reinforced with extra armor, and clamps to mount in place on the railings of the lobby, giving them more height and a better line of fire towards the possible entrance.

 

The fact that this required him to throw several couches and chairs into a corner to clear said lines of fire didn’t really bug him.

 

T-3 was mounted on the second level overlooking the lobby, considering that out of all seven turrets, it had the best actuators for it’s arm. While the rest were serviceable, and had a solid aim if it was at the same level as them, T-3 was the one that had gotten the scavenged actuators from a destroyed operator, as well as it’s optics. The upside was that it was far more precise, and it was calibrated to use that, providing overwatch on the entire back half of the lobby. That was also why Izuku had taken time to adjust its rifle to fire only semi-automatically. He didn’t want it firing so much that it broke those slightly more delicate machinery.

 

Finally, T-7, and T-2 were set up to watch the tunnel into the shuttle bay. Izuku had dragged spare furniture around to give them a barricade, letting the turrets fire from the tops of the steps leading into the lobby.

 

All told, not a bad fucking job for two hour’s work.

 

Though, it hadn’t all been… Easy to do.

 

There were a lot of bodies in the lobby.

 

People frozen in the moment, desiccated by mimics… or who just died from wounds inflicted in the chaos. 

 

The bodies that he found he had taken the time to carry out of the way, laying in the corner furthest from the various entrances, near the restrooms on the ground floor.

 

He didn’t exactly know what to do with them, but he couldn’t justify leaving them laying around like that. Sitting in caricature of their last moments while he built defenses around them.

 

Breathing deep, Izuku tightened the last bolt on T-7’s mounting arm, and patted it on the... Head? Snout? Optical sensor? “Good hunting.”

 

It gave a cheerful series of beeps, echoed by T-2, and Izuku slid the small pack of tools back into his suit with a quiet huff of amusement.

 

The turrets had a fun little chunk of personality coded into them. It was always amusing to see them interact, even if it was based around making people less nervous around live guns.

 

Now, he had one last place to break into before he was ready to leave the lobby of Talos 1 for a while.

 

The locked down central security office off the side of the tunnel.

---

Now

Manual glanced back at his intern. Iida Tenya…. The teen had been sullen all day. Driven and quiet. After settling in the night before, he had woken early, joined the rest of the team for lunch and followed along.

 

The hero had even tried to ease the teen into things, doing some basic paperwork and cracking jokes as he went. 

 

Nothing was getting the teen to really… react, however.

 

Once more Mizushima Masaki held back a sigh.

 

Ingenium was still in the hospital after all. The rumors about the hero’s condition… aren't good either. Spinal damage was already hard enough, but people were saying that Stain went after Ingenium’s quirk. The iconic ‘Engine’ that his little brother shared a variant of. 

 

He figured that would traumatize anyone. Just the thought of someone ripping apart the gills along his neck? And that wasn’t even the source of his water controlling. 

 

As he explained another part of his agency, the contact lines and receptionists that took tips and information, he couldn’t help but sympathise for the teen.

 

Even now, in the safety of the agency, Tenya was holding his suit helmet at his side, his armor on and standing at something close to a ready stance.

 

‘He must be so scared, being in the same city that Stain hurt his brother in. He won’t even let his guard down.’

 

Masaki turned away to hide a grimace.

 

‘I’ll take him out on a patrol later this week. A milk run. Public, easy, something to let him vent a bit on.’

 

In the meantime… ‘Let's show him to the gym. Maybe he could work off some stress there!’

 

Behind him, Iida lagged for just a moment, eyes locked on the screens around the maps of Hosu and their flagged reports. 

 

If Masaki had looked back, maybe he would have noticed the sheer hate in those red eyes.

 

Hate… and anticipation.

---

Then

The central security station for the Talos 1 Lobby was a secure location, directly overlooking the tunnel from the shuttle bay into the rest of the station. The doors were high security locks, the glass window into the tunnel was energy field reinforced glass and the entire location was locked down to only respond to the appropriate security codes or the personal signal of the chief of security, one Sarah Elazar.

 

So of course Izuku found himself here, crouched in a maintenance vent, looking down, as he worked at the grate cover with a screwdriver and a small pry bar.

 

“Aaannnddd….”

 

Clink.

 

“Ta-da, last of the screws are out. Chat, you can stop playing the pink panther theme now. Or the Mission Impossible theme. Please. It’s been like twenty minutes.”

 

Izuku waited a second, and then slumped as Pink Panther ended, only for it to restart.

 

He reached out, pulled up the music interface, and skipped it.

 

And the next four repeats.

 

And another three mission impossible themes.

 

“Right, Back to business.”

 

He shifted, pulling his feet up so he could brace, hands pressed into the corner of the vent above him as he lined up his boot. 

 

With a breath, Izuku tensed and kicked out.

 

Once, twice, three time-

 

And there goes the vent.

 

As it clattered to the ground, Izuku dropped on top, handgun already out and ready as he gave a quick spin, looking over the room.

 

“Now… What is in…”

 

Izuku trailed off, eyes locking on the prize.

 

‘Weapons Locker.’

 

Izuku gave one more glance, and raised his handgun up, eyes wide and senses on high alert.

 

Cause he could see a goddamn shotgun right there.

 

And he was not gonna get sneak attacked cause he got distracted by a shiny new shotgun.

 

…

 

Three mimic corpses, one of which was big and fucking spiked, and a full clip of his handgun later, Izuku couldn’t help but scoff. “I fucking knew it.”

 

He reached out for the shotgun and paused.

 

A light wrench tap to the gun later, he nodded and pulled it free. The shotgun was heavy, the barrel smooth blue-tinged metal and with a digital ammo counter much like the hanguns next to the loading port for the shells.

 

“Four…” He pulled the slide back to check, and nodded. “Four shots and you're out. Good to know.”

 

Lifting the shotgun to his shoulder, Izuku couldn’t help a sense of glee fill him.

 

“This… This is nice. .”

 

As he paused, however, the song playing ended, and a new beginning. Izuku recognized it as the bane of every AMV and fight montage in the world, going on three centuries.

 

“Chat, stop playing Angel With A Shotgun. What the fuck.”

---

Now

Daisuke glared out at the entrance to the alley, even as he chewed the but of the cold cigar in between his teeth. The light rain was a blessing and a curse. Even if he wanted to smoke, the rain would just fuck it up if he had to move from his little dry spot under an awning.

 

Also, he didn’t like this mess he was in. Didn’t like one bit of this damn situation. Stain just had to go and kick the fucking hornets’ nest! Heroes, fucking everywhere! Goddamn it.

 

His gang had been living it up . They sourced some of the best drugs this side of Tokyo! Quality controlled and for reasonable prices too! Didn’t even cut the imported hard stuff too badly! And now they were bailing out as fast as fucking possible. Their labs, their product, and as much cash as they could carry. Where to, they didn’t fucking know. Sakai, the boss of the crew, had a lead on a warehouse out in Mie, but that was only to lay low and keep quiet for a while.

 

So here he was, sitting under an awning in this back alley as the sun went down, keeping an eye out while the rest of the gang was currently busy cleaning out their third, and final, stash. 

 

He was not feeling good about it.

 

His quirk wasn’t barely combat worthy! What fucking use was being able to recreate loud sounds nearby when a fucking Hero was bearing down on him.

 

But as he glanced back around the alley, he couldn’t help the sheer goddamn anxiety that was rising up his spine.

 

Pausing he sighed as he remembered an old joke a friend of his used to say about look outs in videogames.

 

‘No One ever Looks Up.’

 

So, biting the butt of his cigar, he leaned out, into the light drizzle, as he glanced up at the cloudy sky where it was streaked with golden light from the setting sun. He was planning to joke later that he checked just proved his buddy wrong.

 

He froze.

 

A figure was sitting on the edge of the roof above him, one leg hanging loose, a dark red and metallic mass for a boot, while the other was braced up on the ledge with the rest of him. A long mess of hair pulled back and to the side, the rest of the form cast in straight darkness edged with only the vaguest of details with the fading sunlight behind him. 

 

The figure was staring. At him. Straight at him.

 

And something about that invisible gaze, about its sheer fucking focus, made him freeze in boneshaking terror.

 

Terror that only spiked as slowly, three lines of bright green began to flicker, one after another, into existence stretched across the person's face. The light even brought his features into clearer definition, the gleam of something like metal or ceramic around his chest and neck, the shape of weapons hanging from his belt.

 

And one in his hands. A shape that looked suspiciously like a shotgun. 

 

Slowly, Oh so slowly, a single hand came up, and gave an almost innocent expression, pressing a single finger towards where it’s mouth would be.

 

‘Shhhhhh’

 

That was enough. Just enough that he broke from the frozen terror straight into full blown goddamn panic mode .

 

With a cry of fear, he activated his quirk, and the entire alley began to ring with the sound of temple bells, with air raid sirens, with every loud sound he could remember.

 

He turned, preparing to sprint, knowing in his heart that he was never, ever, ready to fight that person, that thing-

 

Only for it to land in front of him, boots ringing off cracked asphalt almost like a quieter echo of one of the other alarms, landing in a half crouched position that looked almost spring-loaded, shotgun held across it’s waist-.

 

Daisuke only had a split second to realize that he was being hit before he was slamming into the wall, choking as all the breath left his lungs, a bar of steel planted in his gut as fast as it vanished, leaving him gasping from the hit. Around him the sounds skipped a beat, some of them ending suddenly as he lost his focus on the quirk.

 

A Hiss-Crack rang out, and a sudden smack of pain- and the heavy impact of something that felt like someone hitting him with a open palm slap on his leg drew his attention to a sudden blob of purple that was wrapping around his knee, hardening before he could even think to unfold his leg from it’s crouched position.

 

By the time he looked up the figure was already a blur, racing through the alley shotgun held low as he seemed to almost skate over the puddles on the ground.

 

He saw Chojiro, the biggest member of his crew, take a knee as a kick swept his leg, before a blow from the shotgun to his head laid him out . Another series of cracking sounds and more purple burst on the other man's joints, each leg and an arm.

 

The rest of the fight was hidden by the truck, and with his quirk still going haywire he couldn’t exactly hear beyond the ringing bells and alarms.

 

With a cough, he finally managed to catch his breath enough to focus.

 

The alarms cut off, the strain of his quirk finally letting up and allowing him to hear the fight.

 

And what he heard… was not promising. Screams, cries for help or in rage, a couple thuds, and among it all, that occasional hissing-crack sound.

 

And his quirk would remember these sounds until he died of old age.

 

All too soon the sounds began to die off, and with rising panic Daisuke realized if he was gonna get out of here, he had to do it now!

 

He tried to turn over, to crawl away, only to realize that with the purple shit around his knee, he couldn’t bend his fucking leg! It was stuck in this stupid damn bend! With panic, he stopped trying to run or walk, and threw himself on his hands and knees. He can crawl! It’ll be messy, but until he can find a way to get that purple-

 

Steps began to ring out behind him, and he glanced back.

 

The figure was walking towards him. Shotgun held up as deft fingers slid home vibrant purple shells into it’s tube, each one clicking home in time to his steps.

 

“Don’t. Run.”

 

The words were distorted, a mechanical hiss and electric crackle backing each word, making the nearly emotionless tone even more unnerving.

 

And as he got closer, the… the crazy fucker lowered the shotgun and gave a single pumping motion, the gun click-cracking as the mechanism racked a new shell home. Daisuku threw himself onto his back, arms raised and wide.

 

“Don’t hurt me! I give!”

 

The figure didn’t stop, only breaking pace to lean down and grip his collar, dragging him up before pushing him against a wall like he wasn’t nearly a hundred Kilo’s, one hand holding his shirt collar and jacket shoulder tight, the other bracing the shotgun over his back shoulder, out of Daisuke’s reach.

 

“Let me make this simple. I want to know where you were moving your stash, and where your boss is.” The hiss was quieter now. The distortion was lower, more subtle, but the sheer emotionless threat in the voice was all that he needed.

 

This close, all that Daisuke could see were the gleaming green vents. He had no idea who this guy was, but he was scarier than anyone he’d ever seen. “North side! The Hosu Pay-A-Crate! We’re stashing the supplies in a storage locker there! He was planning to move out tomorrow!”

 

A tilt of the head, a slight lean forwards, and another rush of sheer, pants wetting terror . “Why the rush?” 

 

“Stain! He’s fucked us! Kicked the goddamn hornets nest! Dragging assholes like you here!” The fear was starting to fade, but not the anxiety. This guy was fucking crazy and Daisuke did not wanna die for this shitshow!

 

“Do you know where Stain is?"

 

“Nobody does! The guys a fucking maniac. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dresses up like a civilian and fucking walks around when he’s not killing people! Fuck, all anyone knows about his looks is that he’s missing his fucking nose!”

 

For a long moment, there’s quiet.

 

“Good. Take a nap.”

 

Daisuke barely has a moment to try and speak before he realizes that the guy has been shifting the hand to his neck for several seconds…

 

And then everything starts going dark and sideways.

 

The last thing he hears before he surrenders to the darkness is… a woman?

 

“Damn. Nice fucking work, Kid-”

 

"I do so aim to please."

Chapter 51: Drawing Aggro

Summary:

Weaving paths draw closer.

But who wove this web?

The Heroes?

Or the Killers?

Now

Izuku gripped the edge of the building and pulled himself up with a smooth motion, landing on the gravel roof of the boxing gym with a gentle step. The dark of predawn was being chased by the first false signs of light. The distant sky to the west still showed stars even as the east became a pale silvery grey.

 

And Izuku had woken up with a certainty in his bones.

 

It had been a while since that happened.

 

Dusting the grime from the roof off his hands, he paced across the gravel to an old AC unit, clamoring onto the edge even as he let a deep breath into the night air.

 

‘The last time I felt like this was the USJ. And before that… Gwynn.’

 

He had never spoken about this, not to the chat, and not to the doctors.

 

The way that he could sense conflict. That he could sense tension breaking. In the games it could be dismissed as the game itself letting him know, some untold interaction between his ‘Data’ and the game he was in. A subconscious understanding of the code.

 

But the USJ had proven that it wasn’t just the simulation that gave him that sense of foreboding.

 

He hadn’t known how to process it. Not really.

 

The untold feeling. Something between prediction and prophecy.

Was it something in the people? A sense of unease or nervousness that he had picked up on, in the faint moments where he followed Miruko through patrols, or in the other heroes he had met and seen in passing? Or was it something deeper and more unexplainable, a sense that echoed the way animals could sense natural disasters, that rats could tell a sinking ship?

 

Or was it merely that he understood the butterfly flap of wings that haunted reality. The influence of events and ghosts of the past some preferred to ignore.

 

He couldn’t tell, and he doubted that anyone would ever have an answer for him.

 

Reaching down he gripped the sheathed sword at his side, the only piece of equipment he had taken to the roof, strapped around a pair of loose fleece pajamas and a black tank top.

 

With a deep slow breath, he unhooked it from his belt and placed it across his thighs. He slid his hand across the enamel covered wood of the sheath. In the dark, with only the faintest light of the coming dawn, he could feel the almost perfectly smooth texture, the way the generally straight and smooth sheath dipped and curved subtly around a leather loop, the metal D-ring that normally hooked onto his belt stitched tightly into it, nestled in another groove to prevent it from coming loose.

 

As he slid his hand towards the hilt of the sword, he ran his thumb over the addition around the seam from Power Loader. A clasp with a simple pressure lock. 

 

The non-lethal modification.

 

Without unlocking it, the blade would draw covered with a thin rounded polymer ‘sleeve’ that would keep the edge from cutting. While it would shatter under enough stress, it was supposed to keep the sword from being an instantly lethal option.

 

With a press, he felt the mechanism unlock, and drew the naked blade from the sheath for several inches.

 

The metal looked nearly black in the dark, the faint ting of red and blue only visible as he slowly rotated it back and forth, the sky slowly losing the last of the stars as he meditated, once more focusing on his premonition of the future.

 

He could feel a conflict coming, a clash of wills that would be another milestone, another mark in the journey of his life.

 

And in his grip, with his hand on the leather wrapped hilt and his thumb tracing the fuller of the blade, the blade felt... eager.

 

He slid the sword home, and his left hand traced down the sheath to an engraving. Something Izuku himself had added, small kanji carved with the tip of a razor, and invisible to wandering eyes since he filled the words with black enamel. Perhaps Mei could read it, with her enhanced sight, but few others would know what to even look for.

 

A promise, between himself and the sword.

 

‘Draw me with purpose, not fear.’

 

And that purpose was coming.

 

For what is a Stain but another Blight.

 

Looking up at the first true light of dawn, Izuku gave an exhale, and settled himself.

 

He cast a glance at the sun, and frowned, before rising, whispering a poem he knew to himself. 

 

One he had learned in Rapture.

 

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; 

red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.”

 

And this morning was dawning a dull red.

 

A storm was coming in.

 

The quiet of the dawn was broken by the distant sound of a phone call, and soon after, Miruko’s shouting rang out.

 

“Kid! We’ve got a possible sighting! Come down here and get suited up. We’re moving in 30.”

---

Then

The glare of the screen was the only lightsource, the room around it swallowed by shadow, the shape of the room itself even being obscured by the mess that the light landed on. Wrappers, boxes, half ruined electronics… 

 

With a grumble, fingers tapped one by one across the keyboard, closing one forum as he opened another.

 

More posts about All Might. Lists of possible quirk explanations. Lists of appearances.

 

Each one he copied into a file, to cross reference later.

 

He closed the latest forum, some hero watchers list of recent fights, and opened a more… morally grey one.

 

He scrolled through topics, looking for mentions of his target.

 

And slowed.

 

‘Hmmmm’

 

Red eyes squinted, lips mouthing the title, translating it from English.

 

‘Stream of the most fucked kid in existence.’

 

Curiosity peaked, he tapped at the link, waiting for it to load even as he reached up, scratching at his neck. As the screen loaded, it was a simple streaming page. A chatbox to the left. A screen filling the right, and a simple timer at the top. Everything was a dull grey and white coloration, with black text.

 

Glancing at the time, he gave a hum of curiosity.

 

Day 159

Hour: 22:12:32 

 

However, what caught his eye was at the bottom of the page.

 

‘Archive’

 

He glanced at the screen for a moment, seeing a teen, the subject of whatever this was, sitting at a computer typing away in what looked fairly impressive… if a slightly fake looking office. 

 

The chat showed almost two thousand watchers.

 

“Boring. Why is this so interesting to people?”

 

He tapped the archive button and after a moment of loading was led to a list of videos, marked only with ‘Day’ followed by two numbers.

 

Ordering it by oldest first, he clicked on the first one.

 

Day 1:0

 

The video opened for a moment, on a pale grey screen, before details began to form.

 

In seconds, the screen showed a forest in the dead of night, before with a flicker of the same grey coloration, a green haired kid dropped to his feet, looking around.

 

“Oh. God."

 

‘Huh, good audio quality.’

 

He was just getting bored watching the teen fumble around when he saw the sudden appearance… of some distorted looking tall and thin person in a suit? 

 

The way the green haired teen took off was… probably to be expected. The camera following along was interesting however.

 

The appearance of an overlay was the surprising part.

 

A time clock, similar to the ones he had occasionally seen speedrunners using, ticking away in one corner. A counter of 0/100 in the other.

 

He didn’t notice that he was murmuring backseat advice until he saw the second page. He didn’t realize he was leaning forward, eyes focused on the screen, until the player was wounded, twisting his leg after the fourth page.

 

Cursing, he barely cared as the suited monster ripped the teen apart.

 

But by the time the green haired teen had died, the video ending with the first death, Shigaraki Tomura was invested.

 

He queued up the second video, set it to playback at double speed and watched with bated breath.

 

His recon into his target could wait.

 

This was interesting.

 

Pausing, he opened the chat, typing in a username for his messages.

 

'Dusty10 has Joined the Chat'

---

Now

Tenya glanced up as the office began to resume work after lunch. The sounds of arriving secretaries and the shift resuming drawing him from the ‘Sidekicks Guide to Paperwork and Forms’ booklet that he had been using as a reference for the last few hours. A small stack of paperwork filled out and awaiting signatures was at his side. He had already eaten lunch, and was now just watching the door.

 

Five days had passed in the agency. And they had been an exercise in… patience. 

 

In waiting and listening. 

 

In keeping focused at all times, holding out for the chance to do what he came here for.

 

Every time Manual came to check on him, smiling and kind (Almost like… no. No one is like Tensei. Not Tenya. Not Anyone...).

 

Every time Manual suggested he go and spar a sidekick, that they work out, that he test himself and work on one task or another, he had worked at with a frenetic focus. Paperwork was filled with precise handwriting and an almost manic focus, piles shifting through the desk he was assigned faster than any other. He already knew many of the tricks of the trade. He had lived among heroes, had sat on laps and looked over tables as they worked.

 

This was nothing new.

 

And soon enough, Manual had almost nothing left to show him in the agency.

 

Nothing except practical experience, out on the streets.

 

The paperwork at his side, waiting for signatures and incident details, was everything required to fill out for a patrol report. 

 

When the hero arrived from lunch, he showed it to Manual. 

 

“Wait, but you haven’t been out on a patrol?”

 

Tenya merely gave a tight nod, keeping his expression forcibly still. “I was hoping to join you on today's patrol. I figured being prepared would help.”

 

Half of the papers were already dated for tonight.

 

Would be a waste to not use them.

 

With a sigh, Manual caved, giving a slightly tense smile. “I suppose you can join me for the afternoon.”

 

Tenya gave a smile back, just a touch fake. A bit artificial.

 

In his mind, as Manual walked away, he ran through the mental files he had accumulated. It was data picked from his brother's files. Overheard from every secretary and sidekick who lingered in the office too long, complaining about the search. From every glance at the wall of active cases. From every requisition file he had filled and filed for the agency. A hundred hints, showing how every agency in Hosu was doing, told through gossip and paper trails he had watched people fill out, listening intently to them explaining the forms even as they filled out information in front of him.

 

And the buzz from the night before.

 

Stain was seen.

 

‘Stain prefers alleyways. He likes tight corners. He drags heroes from their patrols with bait and hints. He hasn’t been sighted since the Hosu crackdown started, and some people are getting antsy. Bladed weapons and some form of paralyzation...’

 

The internal file went on and on, but before he could get lost in the thoughts of how exactly he was going to get his vengeance, he breathed out sharply and headed for the locker room.

 

Twenty minutes later, Tenya strapped on his helmet, following Manual down the hallway and out towards the street entrance.

‘I will avenge my brother, Stain. I just have to find you first.’

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the security desk in the small room around the entrance to Psychotronics, moving with slow and cautious steps, the faint sound of the chat’s music choices now reduced to the various radios and speakers still on and scattered throughout the station, instead of the music player linked directly to him. He didn’t need them to distract him or drown out his senses. The shotgun was slung across his back, and some careful modification of straps and anchors had left the gloo gun hanging below it, both of them easy to draw and use with minimal issues.

 

However, both the Gloo gun and the shotgun were not subtle weapons. The pistol was at least internally suppressed, and he wasn’t worried all that much about running out of ammo for it. He had almost 200 rounds in his suit, almost a fourth of that pre-loaded into spare magazines, and the supplies for fabricating another hundred back at the office in case he needed it.

 

He could also use it and his wrench at the same time, which was looking to be far too useful to dismiss. Mimics could dodge a bullet, but the wrench and Izuku’s arm were a touch more… aggressive about making contact.

 

And satisfying to use.

 

Dismissing a safe he could see tucked in the corner for the moment, Izuku kicked the desk lightly, eyes tracking for any thing moving at the sound, before he vaulted the desk with light leap, landing on the other side with his pistol raised near his chest and angled away from him.

 

No movement.

 

Good.

 

Looking around, he got to searching, starting with thumbing through the various files on the desk. Most of them were stacks of blank forms, ‘Name, Subject, reason for visiting’. Izuku could even imagine how they would sound. Some no nonsense security guard sitting at the desk, tapping at the digital keyboard and checking emails even as he spoke to someone passing into psychotronics. 

 

Like the rest of the main lobby, it was built to be... impressive. Inviting. The security stations in the other sections he had passed through were all designed to be compact, efficient, and secure.

 

This was more of a ‘sorry, authorized personnel only’ checkpoint.

 

Looking away from the blank files, however, he moved to check the drawers before pausing, glancing at the printer.

 

“Fatal Fortress…”

 

It was a character sheet, for one ‘Captain Stabfellow’ Izuku gave it a quick glance and smirked, before setting it back down.

 

“Fun.” Turning away he gave a last glance through the desk to no avail, before turning to the safe. The practice he had been getting reframing the memories had helped, and with only a minimum amount of cursing and sparking, the safe was quickly out of power and unlocked.

 

And Izuku could only pause in mild confusion at what he found.

 

A pair of small wireframe balls, loaded with some kind of technology and a note.

 

‘Hey Elias, Psychotronics said to stash these in ease of use. Some of the test subjects have been experimenting with more potent powers. If one gets out and heads your way, Use one of them and it’ll knock their powers flat out for a few minutes. Said to give them a hell of a headache too. Doc called them ‘Nullwave Transmitters’. Prime them with the blue button, press the red to set them for throwing, orange to set them for movement. If you need more, for whatever reason, there should be a stash in the security checkpoint near the labs.’

 

-Salazar

 

“Well now.”

 

Izuku hefted one of the transmitters up with an assessing glance. About the size and diameter of a baseball. Not too heavy, but enough heft to get a good throw…

 

“You’ll be useful.”

---

Now

Stain stood on the edge of a building, looking out at the streets of Hosu as the early afternoon began to cast shadows, the distant front of a storm to the east. With the fights he was planning, a storm would only be a blessing for him.

 

But for now, he was gazing at the trap he had woven… and that the Heroes had walked into like ignorant flies into the web.

 

So many false Heroes, all here. All looking for a single soul. Prepared for duels and tracking, to dog pile a single enemy in a desperate bid for the fame of being the one who took him in.

 

All he had done was give a single rumor.

 

The slightest sighting in passing the night before, on the edge of downtown, in a gap between the search patterns of the heroes, but not a pair of sidekicks.

 

Of course, he had vanished before he could be seen in truth.

 

He may as well have said “Come Here” for the reactions of the heroes. Predictable.

 

‘Weak. They don’t deserve the names they wear.’

 

A shift of the air, and his new… compatriot. The villain who would be the anvil to his hammer. 

 

Shigaraki Tomura.

 

His outfit was different from the simple design he had seen earlier in the week. A double breasted coat in long black, stitched with designs that looked like hands crawling from the seams, matching the preserved human hands that clung to him. Around his neck, clawed at the waist, elbow and knee of his form, the human flesh was petrified into armor.

 

And there was more than just the flesh protecting him.

 

Gleaming red metal peeked from his collar and showed through the gaps in his coat. A breastplate, matched by the edges around his wrists.

 

Simple armor. 

 

But the gleaming blood red stood out among the mix of black and silver. A touch of blood, on a dead corpse.

 

Just as his single eye stared out between the fingers of a scarred hand that wrapped his skull.

 

“My forces are ready. A dozen distractions. Disposable, but quite eager to see bloodshed.”

 

At the mention of the Leagues ‘forces’, Stain sneered. Bioweapons. Monsters crafted from dead flesh were not his opinion of an ideal force.  “And the locations I've marked?”

 

Shigaraki stepped up to the edge. “All accounted for. At precisely 3:10, the heroes should be clustered as you expect. I must admit, aiming for the greatest point of overlap in their patrols, and baiting them to this part of the city is… ambitious. ”

 

“The fools won’t work together. Their propaganda may espouse the teamwork of heroics, but they fail in the stress of battle. Too many glory seeking hounds of the Commission. Too many Heroes not worth the title.”

 

“I agree.” Shigaraki murmured, living hands in his coat pockets as he stared out at the city in the early morning light. “However… We should at least prove their folly.”

 

A small earbud was held out, grasped between two slender fingers. 

 

“If you need transport, merely ask for Kurogiri. He’ll take you wherever you request.”

 

Calloused and scarred fingers took it, Stain giving it a considering look, even as Shigaraki stepped back and away from the edge, walking towards where he first appeared.

 

“And Stain!” As the Hero-Killer looked back, Shigaraki gave a lackadaisical wave. “Don’t be afraid of calling in reinforcements. I’ve got an ace up my sleeve that’s just dying to be played.”

 

A flicker of purple smoke rushed past him, and the villain was gone, a grim laugh echoing in his wake before the smoke dissipated.

 

Stain glanced down at the communicator once more, before reaching up, and clasping it around his ear.

 

He didn’t turn it on, not yet.

 

He would begin this hunt himself.

 

To start… There was a Hero who moved by himself. A fool who wandered off with pride to shield him, and hubris to weigh him down. Who had made noise about being a tracker . A hunter.

 

What foolish notions. 

 

“To start… Native shall be the first to fall.”

 

As the sun began to slowly set, Stain vanished into the alleys of the city.

 

He had traps to lay.

 

Prey to hunt.

 

Heroes to Kill.

 

Then

He followed a staircase down, keeping a shoulder pressed lightly to the wall and his pistol raised and braced with the wrench. He was watching with carefully slow and quiet breaths as he tracked the phantom at the bottom of the steps pace down into the hallway leading to a pair of what he recognized as gravlifts.

 

Functioning gravlifts, in comparison to the disabled pair back in the Neuromod division, or the wreck that had been destroyed by the fire back in the hardware labs.

 

Izuku gave a long look around, before stopping himself from sighing.

 

The phantom was one of the talking ones, he could barely make out the noise from here. But there was no way to dodge this one.

 

He wished there was.

 

‘Right, let's plan this out…’

 

Sliding the pistol away, Izuku drew the shotgun.

 

The last couple times he tried to shoot a Phantom with a handgun they nearly killed him in the process.

 

‘Let’s try out the higher caliber.’

 

Izuku gauged the distance to the bottom of the stairwell as about… Eight meters?

 

He’s fallen farther and survived without issue. And he has those cool maneuvering boosters.

 

As the phantom reached the bottom step, Izuku tensed, lined up on the step above his landing point…

 

The phantom took the final step, and Izuku kicked off. Getting one good step before pushing up , hand snagging the metal railing, even as he twisted into a vault over the barrier, letting the artificial gravity of the station pull him down as he braced the shotgun against his shoulder.

 

The Phantom never knew what hit it, the shotgun shell slamming into the head from the back a split second before Izuku’s boots, maneuvering thrusters on full, used the shoulders as a crash pad.

 

Izuku rolled with the impact, twisting to his feet with the shotgun level, and he could only pause.

 

Cause the upper half of the phantom was… kinda gone.

 

Well. That’s not exactly true.

 

It was more smeared along the ground towards him.

 

…

 

“I expected that to go way worse.”

 

Of course, that’s when the barrel behind where the phantom's corpse was leapt at him, revealing itself as a mimic.

 

A big, spikey, mimic.

 

“Spoke too sooN! TOO FUCKING SOON!”

 

Several seconds later Izuku was breathing heavily, the new mimic a pile of sludge.

 

‘Well. That confirms the shotgun does, in fact, work well.’

 

Pulling out shotgun shells he began to reload.

 

“Can’t believe I fucking missed, twice .” Izuku couldn’t help the frown. “I hope to god there's a shotgun neuromod somewhere, cause that was disgraceful.”

---

Now

Kyouka chewed on a stick of bubble gum as she looked around the street corner. She was currently shadowing Sai and Kunai on patrol. The original plan had been to follow Edgeshot, but with the confirmed sighting of Stain, he was part of the net attempting to close in on the Hero-Killer, and had left her to the care of Sai and Kunai.

 

Which she didn’t have a problem with. The patrol they were on was set up a good distance from the sighting, following along commercial districts and several malls and shopping sensors. The two sidekicks were even training her, playing the heroic equivalent of ‘I-Spy’.

 

“Avenues of escape from that entrance?” Kunai gestured at the entrance to the shopping mall, facing out into the four way intersection.

 

Kyouka gave a considering humm as she looked around.

 

“Nearest subway station is two blocks east, so that’s the fastest way to leave the area. But subways are also a dead end if they get stuck there. North? That leads out of the district, and would give the best chance to leave the patrol area?”

 

“Nice reasoning for both of them, but there's two other ways you missed. First: the nearest alley is north, right across from the entrance. The goal of any competent villain or thief trying to escape is to break line of sight. The alley, the next intersection, around cars. All of them are places that someone exiting the doors won’t see directly. The other option is the really sneaky one.” Kunai paused for dramatic effect, arms raised.

 

When he wasn’t going to continue, Kyouka rolled her eyes and gave him what he wanted. “Sneaky?”

 

Only for Sai to lean over her shoulder and interrupt. “Yeah, turning around and walking back inside.”

 

Kyouka blew a bubble with a raised eyebrow, and Sai laughed.

 

“You’d be surprised. The best way to avoid a chase is to not look like you’re running. A hat and a jacket being pulled off, stepping around a blind corner, and walking in the other door? It’s worked on me before.”

 

“I remember that too!” The new voice cut in, and drew Jirou’s attention from her mentors to a taller man in off blue armor, dressed with subtle curves and a helmet that looks almost like a fin… and Iida? As the duo navigated the light crowd to their side, Sai and Kunai both brightened up. 

 

“Masaki! Been a minute! How’s being an agency head treating you?”

 

“Good! And yourselves? How does it go with Edgeshot?”

 

As the adults fell into conversation, Kyouka gave Iida an arched brow, popping another bubble before biting the gum and tucking it away in a cheek. “Sup Iida”

 

“Jirou-san. A pleasure to see you.” Kyouka gave a blink, trying not to show her surprise.

 

Because that was a lie. His heart rate had stuttered, something that she hadn’t even realized she was tracking. 

 

‘That's.. Weird? What the hell?’

 

“Nice to see you too.” Curiosity now rearing its head, she decided to push a bit.

 

“Enjoying your internship so far? Learn everything you wanted?”

 

Kyouka’s eyes traced Iida’s expression. Stern, but not… animated. His hands would normally be chopping about, but right now they were clenched by his side. “Yes, working with Manual has been quite enlightening.”

There it was again!

 

Iida’s words and phrasing were alright, his inflection slightly tense but not too weird. But his heart rate was going weird .

 

 “Weird time to be around Hosu, yeah? Do you think any of the others are dealing with anything like Stain?”

 

THERE!

 

The moment she mentioned Stain, Iida twitched . Heart rate skyrocketed, his hands tensed.

 

What was throwing her off, is that he wasn’t having a fear response. She’d gotten plenty of experience sorting those out recently while hanging with the local candidate for ‘Scariest Mother Fucker of the Year’ Midoriya Izuku, who could cause fear responses with a prolonged look at someone. This was anger .

 

“I certainly hope no one else has to deal with Stain.” Iida’s voice was softer, his eyes distant, his hands tensed and body language locked tight. At first glance someone might have mistaken his emotions for grief or fear.

 

But his heartbeat was like a war drum.

 

And it felt almost like Izuku’s at the mention of Sugou.

 

And that? That was a red flag.

 

Kyouka opened her mouth, desperately racking her brain for something, anything she could say, could ask for more detail.

 

Manual didn’t give her the chance. “Iida! Come on, we’ve got another three blocks before we get a break! Let the others head their own way.”

 

Iida gave a nod, and glanced at Kyouka. “Have a nice patrol.”

 

And like that, he was gone, moving after Manual as they walked down the street.

 

When Sai and Kunai turned back to her, they must have noticed something.

 

Kyouka frowned and pulled out her phone, weighing her options.

 

Finally, she turned towards the sidekicks. “Can I get a favor?”

 

Sai gave Kunai a look, before deferring to the slightly older sidekick.

 

Kunai held out for a moment, before sighing and crossing his arms. “What do you need?”

 

Kyouka gave a small pause, biting at the ball of gum in her cheek.

 

“Can you get me a copy of Manual's planned patrol route? Just… Just in case?”

 

Kunai gave a considering glance at the direction the other two had gone before nodding slowly.

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

As he transferred the info to her phone, Kyouka couldn’t help but send a text to Izuku, the file attached.

 

Kyouka: Ran into Iida. He’s acting weird. Keep an eye out? Sending you his patrol route if something happens.

 

That was the right thing to do.

 

To have a back up plan. 

 

Just in case.

 

She couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of Iida’s heart beat.

 

‘So much anger…’

 

As the two sidekicks started back up their patrol, she followed behind once more.

 

But she couldn’t help one last glance back.

 

‘Iida… What the hell are you doing?’

---

Then

The door lock to the security station flickered green, Izuku’s tools finally completing the bypass as he glanced around the security checkpoint.

 

A tube shaped scanner filled the center of the area, with two fences blocking people from navigating around it. But, the security office here was the far greater point of interest. Instead of a desk or a sealed off box, it was an entire room, with windows looking onto the checkpoint.

 

What Izuku really wanted was the weapons locker and security terminal in the goddamn office.

 

Pushing the button, the door slid open. The lights in the room were off, but that wasn’t his focus. With the ease of familiarity, he got to work on clearing the room of equipment.

 

The gun rack was mostly empty, but Izuku snagged a fourth magazine from a shelf, and another half empty box of 9mm rounds was added to his collection, as well as a handful of shotgun rounds.

 

But the better find was a cardboard box with another dozen of the Null-Transmitters.

 

The devices were stashed in his pockets, but a few were clipped onto a belt out of the way of his gear. The idea of equalizing with something like a phantom, keeping them from throwing fireballs or plasma in his direction, was appealing.

 

Izuku paused as he finally moved a desk out from the corner.

 

“Oh, Hello.”

 

Two more turrets, both collapsed.

 

While he could take them up, he was worried he didn’t have the time. It took almost 10 minutes to mod each turret he had, and that was the faster and simpler mods.

 

But… they were more useful, deployed and active, then left behind.

 

Hooking the carry handles, Izuku dragged them back out into the checkpoint, and then into the room between the security checkpoint and the grav lifts.

 

The circular room was a maintenance shaft, with several massive pipes connecting to the central pillar of the station, and wide walkways that circled the pipes.

 

Wide walkways that would be perfect for a pair of turrets to cover.

 

Connecting them with his transcribe, he quickly swapped their designations around.

 

And then, with a click, he unfolded the newly named T-8 and T-9.

 

“Morning boys!”

 

The turrets gave a slight whir, the emotion of lacking compared to his more tweaked ones, but more than enough to acknowledge that he had set them up right.

 

As he left them behind, satisfied that this wasn’t going to be an easy way for the Typhon to reinfest the lobby, he headed for the other end of the checkpoint.

 

“Right, let's see what Psychotronics is all about.”

 

At the end of the checkpoint, the path split.

 

Two locker rooms, one to each side, were clearly labeled ‘Men’ and ‘women’

 

However, the men's side was barricaded off with massive piles of boxes.

 

“Oh fun. I’m being funneled again. Great. Love that." Checking his weapons were stocked, he crept over towards the women's locker room, and leaned around the entrance slowly.

 

And found himself staring at the back of another phantom, and watching a mimic go crawling around a stack of lockers nearby.

 

Breathing out silently, he leaned back behind the cover of the corner and ran through a litany of curses.

 

‘ Fuck it. Might as well get some practice in with my shotgun.’

 

Bracing the butt to his shoulder, he took a breath, and then turned around the corner and opened fire.

---

Now

Todoroki Shoto glanced around the streets, following Endeavor's wake as his dad bulldozed through the streets around the sighting. The two of them had been in this area for hours now, Endeavor stomping through the streets with a visible aura of annoyance and anticipation in his wake.

 

And behind him, forced to follow in that wake, Shoto was stuck watching the frantic energy of the district.

 

He had seen a dozen sidekicks, and half that many Heroes, many of them somewhere in the top hundred as they combed the streets around the sighting.

 

Of course, with the constant activity, came the fans. 

 

Endeavor at least kept some of them away. He had a well known dislike of interruptions to his patrols, and had called them out publicly many times.

 

Of course, that didn’t hold true for every hero.

 

As the two of them rounded a corner once more, Endeavor paused for a moment, Shoto freezing in his shadow as he looked for why-

 

‘Rabbit ears?’

 

A pair of white rabbit ears were poking out above a small group of young women and men, most of them clustered around the ears. Even from where he was, Shoto could hear the excited tones he had come to recognize as hero fans. 

 

As Endeavor began to move closer, back straightened and face set in stone, Shoto followed.

 

And as the crowd dissipated slightly, he finally got a glance at the hero in question.

 

Miruko, the number 7 hero. The Rabbit Heroine, one of the few heroes who was more combat focused then Endeavor tended to be.

 

But if Miruko was here... so was...

 

Stiffening slightly, Shoto’s eyes roamed away from the white and gold outfit of Miruko as Endeavor moved to greet her, and locked onto the armored figure behind her, perched leaning against a wall.

 

‘Midoriya.’

 

The armor and mask hid his face, but it was similar to the armor he had worn before. At the USJ.

 

Endeavor finally reached the heroine, looking down at her, and Shoto took the chance to step away, closer to where Izuku stood to the side. 

 

“Miruko.”

 

“Endeavor, should have known you would be around here. How’s the hunt?” 

 

As Endeavor began to speak, grumbling and annoyed, Shoto finally reached close enough to Izuku to nod to the masked teen.

 

“Midoriya.”

 

The metallic visor tilted, and a moment later began to unfold. In seconds, it collapsed from a full face mask to slender metal linings to the side of his jaw, leaving only a thick metallic band around the teens throat.

 

As green eyes gave an assessing glance, he returned the greeting. “Todoroki.” He gave a slight raised eyebrow. “You seem… much more centered.”

 

At that, Shoto couldn’t help a twitch of remorse.

 

He had gotten some much needed perspective on his classmate recently, and it cast his own actions into an… unfavorable light. One that he had been forced to reassess…

 

“I wanted… to apologize. I’ve made some assumptions, and they were… unfair.”

 

Shoto was so fucking glad that Endeavor was arguing with Miruko about patrol territory behind him. This wasn’t something he wanted his father to overhear.

 

Midoriya met and held eye contact with him, Shoto falling silent at the look. For a long moment, only populated by the muffled argument of the pros nearby, Shoto waited for judgement. 

 

Finally, Izuku closed his eyes, head tilting down. “It’s fine. You’ve got your own baggage.”

 

Shoto couldn’t help but relax slightly, the forgiveness was clear, if begrudging.

 

As the two interns glanced at their heroes, now both standing with annoyance and bitching at each other in soft but terse tones, they couldn’t help a commiserating look.

 

A second later, Izuku frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at a message.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Problems?”

 

Midoriya gave an assessing glance at Shoto, before looking up at the heroes, who were slowly running out of insults… or in Endeavor's case, patience.

 

“Iida might be doing something stupid. Keep an ear out?”

 

Shoto didn’t get a chance to respond, instead being called to attention by Endeavor.

 

As he followed the flame hero, he glanced back once more, watching Midoriya, clad in his mechanical mask once more.

 

He turned back to his father, catching the end of a rant about ‘lesser Heroes who don’t know their place’ just in time to give a hum of acknowledgement.

 

He had apologized, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.

 

Then

“Psychoscope required beyond this point.”

 

Izuku sighed, and glanced around.

 

Great. Where the fuck was he suppose to find one of those.

 

Looking at the walls at least gave a good idea of what a Psychoscope looked like.  There was a big ‘safety first’ styled wall decal, depicting a full head covering with a camera-like apparatus that slid down a pair of rails to rest just over the eyes, with a single large blue lens at the front. 

 

Right. He knew there wasn’t anything over in the female locker room, trashed as it became after his fight.

 

So.. maybe the men's side has one?

 

Izuku walked over, reloaded shotgun in hand, and stepped into the men's locker room, gun up and braced as he cleared the room, glancing around only to pause.

 

There was a massive hole in the floor nearby, surrounded by signs of a Gloo gun.

 

‘A survivor?’

 

Giving another glance around, he cleared the locker room, before slowing as he circled back to the hole in the floor.

 

‘What the hell could punch through the deck like this? There's a solid couple inches of steel  and tile here.’

 

Looking down the hole, he could see a medical kit spilled across several wide pipes, and down the slope of what looked like a storage compartment.

 

More Gloo foam looked like it sealed up a fenced in area not far from where he was, but he swore he was hearing… something.

 

There was also a big flickering light pointed at the far wall.

 

Another flood light, perhaps? He’d seen a few around the station so far.

 

Biting his lip in consideration, Izuku lowered down to the pipes, leaving the shotgun over his shoulder as he pulled the handgun.

 

He knew from experience that frozen Gloo rounds could be shattered fairly easily…

 

Raising his handgun, he fired off a round.

 

Just as a test.

 

As the foam he shot shattered and fell apart, he cursed.

 

Because several mimics just crawled out from that gap.

 

Breathing in, he brought up the handgun, braced with both hands, and started opening fire.

 

Luckily, mimics weren’t great climbers.

 

It took an entire clip, but soon enough the last mimic had twitched and fallen limp.

 

Swapping magazines, Izuku clambered down the pipes, before sliding the last few feet to the ground of the cargo compartment.

 

When one of the Mimics tried one last death lunge, he kicked it straight into the foam, breaking more of it off the fence, before nailing it with a spare shot.

 

“Right. What is down here?”

 

Drawing his wrench from his belt, he smashed the last of the foam out of his way, revealing what he was looking for.

 

A corpse, drained by a mimic, still wearing a psychoscope, it’s lens the source of the bright light against the wall behind them. At its side, a broken gloo gun was scattered, along with the corpse of a mimic.

 

Izuku couldn’t help but bite back bile as he knelt by the corpse.

 

Reaching down, he gripped it and slowly pulled it off the corpse, wincing at the way that the body… crumbled, under the force. Desiccated flesh twisting and snapping, the skin peeling away under the cloth balaclava like base before he managed to unhook it entirely.

 

When he finally got the psychoscope free, he grimaced. That was… not clean looking.

 

“Right. First things first, I've got to clean you off.”

 

Reaching down, he patted down the body one more time, snagging two canisters of Gloo, before slowing, finding something unexpected.

 

Another glowing purple vial, tucked away in the dead man's breast pocket.

 

‘IM-11-Modifier’

 

Izuku frowned. He still remembered the pain of the toughness neuromod, and was definitely not recovered enough for another one. Not yet.

 

Tucking it into his own pocket, he stood up, psychoscope in hand. As he left the fenced in area, he paused, and looked back once more eying the corpse.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Turning away, he headed back up towards the hole, sprinting up the slope to grab the pipes, before lifting up into a crouch on them.

 

With any luck, the sinks in the changing rooms would still work just fine, and he could find a clean rag to get anything more… stuck, off the helmet.

 

And then, he would see if he could find out how this all started in the first place. Because if there’s anywhere that he would expect a bunch of scientists to be experimenting with aliens, it was the lab where the map had a morgue already marked down.

 

Now

Native scowled, looking around another side street, glancing down one alley after another. Being able to emulate animals was normally more than enough to track someone down. A wolf’s sense of smell, an eagle's ability to see, even the ears and echolocation of bats all proved useful at a time. He had even managed to get a scent off the scene of Ingenium’s attack.

 

The scent of old rotting blood and hardened steel.

 

There were more intricate layers underneath that, categories of sweat and specific ‘flavors’ of the two main scents, but the mix of blood and metal should have been enough to track down the Hero-Killer! Then that fucking storm that had passed through had covered the killers tracks… and given him a blank slate for finding him on when he had next appeared.

 

The rest of the heroes were focused on the sighting. The point in the city where Stain had been seen, the higher ranking heroes laying claim to the blocks and streets closest to it.

 

But Native wasn’t a moron.

 

He knew what Stain’s scent was like, and all he had to do was circle the area. Sooner or later he would cross the killer's path, and then follow him to whatever lair he was tucked away in! A surprise attack, a quick fight, and he would skyrocket up through the ranks! He could imagine the headlines now: ‘Stain Cleaned up!’ or maybe even ‘Native Triumphs! Hero-Killer defeated!’

 

He glanced at his phone. 

 

Another five minutes or so, and he should run across Manual, if the patrols still lined up right.

 

Sliding his phone back, he took off at another jog, heading down the next side alley on his path.

 

The winding path was dark, cutting behind a line of shops and the back of a parking structure, but while drawing a circle around the sighting, this was the best place to check.

 

His padded moccasins, (really just boots with a fancy outer layer) thudded on the ground, and every few meters he flickered on the senses of a wolf, sniffing around for any trace of that scent.

 

Passing the edge of the parking structure, the alley got much higher. The back of an office building rising up, and the scent of paper and grease getting stronger as he passed by an old pizza place, forcing him to drop his quirk for another moment unless he got overwhelmed.

 

As he slowed his jog, he considered if getting Pizza would be nice.

 

Getting past the pizzeria, he triggered his quirk-

 

And froze.

 

He could smell him! He had Stain’s scent! It was-

 

‘Above me?’

 

The spiked boot caught his shoulder with a sickening crack, dislocating the joint even as it sent native rolling forwards, choking out a scream even as he slammed into the asphalt, a narrow line of pain scratching along his side.

 

“Another lost hero… so proud of the fame and fortune.”

 

He struggled up, glancing back to see the crouched figure, planted in the center of the alley, arms loosely resting over his knees.

 

Red eyes peered out past ragged cloth, and teeth pulled into a scowl.

 

Native pushed up, trying to get some distance, to think of what to do next, what animal to pull from-

 

The figure raised a thin knife up, staring at a bright red spot on the very tip of the blade.

 

“ Another false Idol. One who will fail like the other prey.”

 

Native decided, a cheetah’s speed! He leaned forwards, planting his feet as he began to focus. He could beat Stain! No problem!

 

“Who will fall like the rest.”

 

Native took off, rushing head long at the villain-

 

And Stain took a single careless lick of the stiletto blade.

 

The thud of a body on asphalt, limp and powerless, was such sweet satisfaction to the killer’s ears.

 

And as the hero fell, helpless under his own momentum, Stain rose from his crouch. Long and powerful limbs, loaded with sheaths and armor, hanging with ribbons of shredded cloth to conceal his motions, hanging from a tall and wiry frame laced with scars.

 

“Now. I’ve heard you claim great things about this quirk of yours. About your senses, the ability to hunt down ‘anyone’ you so claim.”

 

Stain wiped the stiletto clean with a loose ribbon, leaving a faint red streak on the cloth.

 

“I have about fifteen minutes to see just how intense those senses are. Shall we?”

 

From his waist, Stain drew a serrated hunting knife.

 

“I think we start with touch.”

---

Then

Izuku tossed the dirty cloth away. The psychoscope was as clean as it was going to get, and he was ready to test it out.

 

Lifting it up, he pulled the harness around his head, the long face mask of his helmet clicking into it with only mild effort. Soon enough, he could tighten the last of the buckles, and felt the harness was secure. With it up, he could now simply… lower the scope over his eyes?

 

With a moment's fiddling he found the catch to do so.

 

Pressing it, he lowered the scope, blinking as it entered his field of view before attaching to his face. A moment of suction, making him flinch in memory of the Neuromod injector, was the only sound for a second, before the screen inside the eye covering came to life.

 

It… was almost like looking through a camera view-finder. His peripheral vision was fucked, the edges of the lense distorting a small degree before the casing blocked the rest of his view. The real treat, however, was the way the central view looked. A mechanical ring slowly circling, small tracking sensors swinging around it at what seemed like random, a pale blue line connecting them in an angular patterned design that shifted, but looked oh so familiar...

 

‘The game start screen. That’s the sensor ring.’

 

Adjusting slightly to focus the lens, rose from the bench he had sat on while figuring out the scope.

 

That was when he realized the greatest downside of the psychoscope.

 

It fucked with his depth perception.

 

He barely got a single step before he cursed and slid the lens away from his eyes, hissing at the slight pinch of it’s seal as he let loose a curse that would make Bakugou pause.

 

“Right. Great. Use it as I need it.”

 

Of course, that’s when January decided to comment.

 

“I suggest you get used to that. It’s going to be one of your greatest tools.” Izuku glanced at the transcript as January continued. “The Psychoscope is a mental shield. As long as you have it on, you should be safe from the Typhon ahead in the labs. Some of them are far more insidious than the ones you’ve seen so far, with powers that still haven’t been fully explained. The psychoscope also allows the installation of chipsets you may find through the station, providing augmented capabilities to its search functions. Keep an eye out.”

 

As the line went dead, Izuku could only sigh.

 

“Of course. Another thing to keep track of.”

 

Now

Manual glanced at his phone, and then down the street towards a distant parking structure. 

 

“Odd, I expected to see pro-hero Native around here. I was hoping he could provide some instruction to you, Iida!” The Normal Hero looked at his stoic intern, giving a smile. “He’s more used to moving at high speed through the narrow alleys and side streets than I am. I was hoping he would have some tips for agility training for you!”

 

Tenya only gave a nod, thankful that his helmet was able to hide his expression. “I’d be grateful for that. Perhaps we should look around for him?”

 

“Ehhh… I doubt we’ll find him easily. He mentioned he was checking through side alleys for any sign of Stain. He could be nearly anywhere.”

 

Tenya felt his spine straighten, shoulders tense. Suddenly he was thankful for his normally perfect posture, it hid the reaction remarkably well.

 

‘A missing hero? And he was moving through alleys? A chance!’

 

“You know, we could probably get a quick snack? We’ve been going strong for over two hours! It’s almost three now…”

 

“Sounds fine.” Tenya couldn’t help the wince at the eagerness that leaked into his voice.

 

Thankfully for Tenya, Manual took it as a different sort of eagerness. “Hah! Figured you were hungry. I’m gonna grab us something to eat. Chill here for a moment!”

 

As Manual glanced around, looking for a corner store where he could get something, Iida was already glancing around, wracking his mind for information.

 

‘Manual was looking at that parking structure. Would Native’s patrol be from that direction, or was it merely a coincidence? I’ve gotta risk it.’

 

He kept an eye out, and Manual headed for a small shop nearby.

 

And by the time the hero got back, a pair of bentos in hand…

 

Iida Tenya was long gone.

Notes:

Hey! Are you a fan of podcasts? Cause i recently had the pleasure of being on one, talking about this fic in particular!

Check it out!

 

The Fanfic Maverick Podcast!

Chapter 52: Waypoints

Summary:

Can you hear it? The incoming Trauma?

Cause I can.

Now

Koda shifted, untucking his flannel shirt as he settled into his seat on the bench. Looking across the picnic table set with tea at Mandal- ah, she asked to be called Shino out of uniform like this. The fact she’s wearing a high collar jean jacket, a loose tank top underneath marred with old paint stains and a bright pink paw print. 

 

Shino grinned back, and they both looked up as Kuro flew down and perched on the table, pecking at a small plate of seeds. The kite had volunteered as Koda’s practice target, to help learn how to better convey information with his quirk.

 

As they both took a sip of tea, Koji let a soft rumble of appreciation loose, focusing on the sounds… and what he wanted to say. The subtle reverb he knew as his quirk activating… kinda picked up, but he saw Shino smiling at the sense of information sent her way.

 

“I see that the non-verbal practice has been going well!” The first two days had been to work on that, on getting Koji to recognize the activation of his quirk, and convey as much information as possible without actually saying it. From using a sentence fragment to convey whole paragraphs, down to using single words to implant ideas of ‘Location’ or ‘Appearance’. Practice had shown that the more vague and unformed the sentence, the more ‘impressionistic’ his psionic messages got. Non-verbal grumbling could pass on emotional information. Full sentences could actually pass on ‘visual’ information. They had tested that by having Koda describe flowers to a blindfolded Tiger, and have him draw them based on what he ‘saw’ from the telepathic message.

 

The goal was to get Koji to the point that he could call out entire battleplans and tactics in only a few seconds, transferring info across his teammates and animal companions with rapid efficiency.

 

Koji couldn’t help but scratch at his head in quiet joy at actually pulling it off with any consistency.

 

“It’s more useful with Seras than Kuro.” He grimaced slightly. “The practice of lying… didn’t work. At all.”

 

At this Shino gave a rueful smile. “Ah. Did your quirk trigger while trying it at all?”

 

“Yes but… Kuro said it was like listening to two voices. The lie I was telling, and the truth shouting behind it. He wasn’t a fan.”

 

The exercise in question was one of the basic ones too! All he had to do was tell a lie to a companion. The failure wasn’t even the worst part. It was the… Intrinsic greasiness of trying to lie with his quirk.

 

He had never even considered it. That the words he told his animals, that he told people would be ‘lies.’

 

He wanted to be a hero! 

 

And Heroes shouldn't have to lie.

 

He scratched at the table with a thick nailed finger, and slowed as He felt Mandalay’s mind tap his, transferring a feeling of…

 

Apology?

 

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Shino was frowning into her tea. “That exercise was more to test the process of how your quirk worked. If anything, you should be proud that you can’t lie with your quirk.”

 

“Huh?” He flushed as he instinctively sent his emotions with the grunt of surprise, sending Shino giggling into the rim of her cup. He had sent all of his surprise at her.

 

He turned red and shut his gosh darn mouth.

 

“No, none of that now!” He felt her give the psychic version of tapping his shoulder. As her smile softened, she looked back down. “There’s dozens of mind quirks, each with their own methods but to explain… Okay between the two of us, we have two different styles of telepathic quirks.”

 

Shino pulled a notebook from her bag and began to sketch. “Let's call mine...Constructed messages. I only transmit out, and I essentially ‘write’ a sentence or ‘Idea’. An Email of sorts! With that email, I can send it out to everyone nearby, and with the help of Tomo-chan’s Identify, can filter that ‘Send to all’ to become ‘Send to Allies’. The important part of this is the email metaphor. I’m composing a message, attaching whatever file is relevant, and sending it across my ‘network’.” She tapped the page and turned it, showing a chibi with cat ears holding a letter throwing it to the side. “Now, with this letter, I can say anything like….” with a humm, she closed her eyes.

 

He felt another mental ping, and listened to the message. ‘I am Cat, Nyahhhh Gonna bite Pixie…. Meow!’ The impressions even felt kind of like a cat.

 

Koji couldn’t help another huff of laughter. This time, without sending his own amusement out, but it was enough to break Shino’s telepathic connection.

 

“See? Now clearly I'm not a cat, but I can make the message feel like a cat. That's a lie on my end.” She flipped the notebook back around and started sketching again. “Now, where as I’m sending a message I construct ahead of time, your work is more like an actual conversation, complete with body language. So… let's call it Instinctive, or ‘Live’ messaging?” She paused, biting on her pen slightly. “‘Live’ is the better descriptor I think. You can’t lie with your quirk because it ‘feels’ like a lie. It's… like sitting on a couch and saying you’re standing to someone looking at you. You instantly disprove your lie, because you provide evidence to the contrary. I don’t think you’ll ever be able to lie to an animal because your quirk tells what you're saying is the truth.”

 

Koji nodded, and glanced down at the sketch of a chibi with angular head standing and speaking, comically oversized alarm over him saying ‘Lie’, next to one of him with ‘Truth’. In front was a chibi version of Kuro looking at the two words.

 

“Huh. Is that a bad thing?” Koji kept a tight lid on his quirk for this. He wanted her to say her honest opinion and as Mandalay hummed slightly, he looked up at Kuro for a moment, the bird looking down curiously.

 

“No. It’s not a bad thing. I’d even call it one of your greatest strengths.”

 

She sipped her tea, and set it down.

 

“How much do you know about Psionic signals? How do they work, the theory behind them?”

 

“Uhh… I know some of the theories. Psionic is the current term for the energy of the human nervous system?”

 

“Close, it’s less ‘energy’ and more ‘information language’. Even as far back as the greek philosophers like Aristotle, it was known that nerves were how people understood touch. The fact that they ran off of conductivity and the passage of electrical signals wasn’t really introduced until… late 18th century.  Further information about how nerves reacted to Electromagnetic forces wasn’t worked on until the turn of the millennium, but by the time quirks were emerging, we knew that people generated mild EMF signals at all times.”

 

She looked down, pen sketching across the page once more.

 

“Psionic quirks, and this is still theory not scientific law because of the sheer variance of Psionic effects, tend to respond to those EMF signals by generating their own. Or, in the case of voice conductive psionics like yours, by burying the signals into the vibrations of your voice.”

 

Koda thinks he understood the theory. “So when I talk normally, it’s just soundwaves. Vibrations.” 

 

“Yep.”

 

“But when I activate Anivoice-” Koji focused, trying to transmit that kind of… questioning. Of asking for confirmation. “I’m sending out a Psionic signal with it.”

 

“ Exactly that.” Mandalay grinned. “Now, the reason I called the way you can’t lie your greatest strength, is that it means people automatically can trust you. You cut past that first ‘are you tricking me’ suspicion which is so critical in a rescue scenario.”

 

“But-” Koji felt his quirk stretch out, carrying with it his hesitation, his air of concern. People shouldn’t just trust him? What if he was wrong? 

 

“Koji, would you lie to a victim about the dangers? Would you intentionally hurt someone you were trying to save?”

“No! Never!” he saw Mandalay flinch, his quirk carrying the sheer horror of that idea with it.

 

But she smiled. “Then don’t abuse that trust. Embrace it!” She leapt up, arms raised! “Prove that Anima is a hero to be trusted!”

 

Koji couldn’t help but give an uncertain smile.

 

“A hero to be trusted…”

 

‘It does have a nice ring to it.’

 

As the two of them settled back down, there was a beep. Mandalay pulled out her phone, thumbing open a message before smiling.

 

“Speaking of trust! We’ve got a situation just for you.” Koji rose, reaching for his flannel over shirt even as Mandalay collected the tea set.

 

“For me?”

 

“Yep! Now, tell me.” The look she gave was a mix of excitement and mischief, and Koji was suddenly on guard. “How much experience do you have with wild bears?”.

 

---

Then

The grav-lift pushed Izuku up and out onto the main floor of Psychotronics, kicking him forward just enough that if someone was following behind him, they wouldn’t shove into him.

 

Still, without the momentum of the grav-lift, he slowed to a stop, looking around the offices of what he could guess were the scientists and engineers who ran the labs. A wide-open atrium was in the center, filled with a raised catwalk lined with what looked like pressure canisters, the lower level only stretched to the right, but a catwalk and glass windows were visible on both upper sides.

 

And of course, that’s when January cut back in. “The Psychoscope can be used to research the Typhon you come across. It’s part of how the formula for neuromods are normally made. However, they can also provide targeting and weakness data for your turrets and you. I’ll back patch them into the networked turrets you currently have. The canisters in the center should be a good start, go ahead and scan them when you have a chance.”

 

Curious, Izuku moved through the atrium, keeping his handgun ready and moving low, sweeping his gaze back and forth as he moved up onto the gantry with the pressure canisters.

 

As he got closer he ducked behind a canister, keeping below its frosted-over lens, as he slid the scope down and adjusted to it.

 

Rising up, he finally got a good look at the mimic inside, and the ring of arcing lights began to adjust, a circle appearing in the center as it analyzed the mimic. In the back of his head, Izuku counted.

 

‘One… Two… Three… Fou-’

 

Done. With a beep, the scope opened a small menu to the left of the lens, and Izuku spent a moment trying to focus, before scowling and pulling out his transcribe.

 

“Yeah, I don't need to read things blocking my vision like that. Where’s the options to… there.”

 

‘Link to Psychoscope?’

 

There. 

 

Ducking back out of sight, Izuku knelt and opened the file:

 

‘Common Name: Mimic

Scientific Name: Typhon cacoplasmus

One of the first Typhon discovered during the Vorona I incident in 1960, Mimics are capable of imitating nearby objects.

During incident case #0648-040163, it was observed that Mimics use other living organisms as a reproduction medium, killing their prey in the process.

In accordance with the Pobeg Protocol, Mimic specimens are not to be released in environments with a containment rating of less than S4.

Weaknesses: None

Immunities: EMP shows no effect, neither do Ionic Emissions or Nullwave Emission.

Variants: unknown.’

 

“Good to know.”

 

Taking a minute, Izuku checked the other canisters. Another pair of Mimics filled two of them, but a fourth was empty.

 

“And of course, the empty canister is marked for a phantom. Cause that’s not going to come back and bite me in the ass later.”

 

Grumbling, Izuku made sure the scope was secured out of his sightline again and glanced around.

 

There wasn’t any easy way to the second floor from where he was, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He could make out the familiar design of an airlock back and above where he was, but that wasn’t too far out of his way. He could use the gloo gun to make a handhold if he needed it, but there was likely a stairwell around here somewhere.

 

‘Huh, I might be able to jump from airlock to airlock after I unlock them. Should keep that in mind.’

 

He was more worried about one of the lower labs having a window sealed off by a wall of gloo.

 

Lifting his handgun once more, he moved across the atrium.

 

Time to clear this area. And then, when he was done with that, he could head for the next area, move through to the GUTS, take that up the spine of the station to Alex’s office-

 

The comms cackled once more, but instead of January, like he’d expected, it was Alex.

 

‘think of the devil..’

 

“Midoriya… no. Izuku . The code to the safe in Doctor Kelstrup’s office is 4401. If you insist on doing this suicidal quest of yours. It should help. There's more to the Neuromods than you know. More powerful changes that await you. You should take every gift you can, and grow as fast as possible.”

 

And there was the increasing shiver of concern and worry up his spine. Wonderful.

“Alex? What the- and you’ve hung up of course. Cause no one actually wants to talk to me on this fucking station.”

 

Now: did he trust that message or not?

 

Fuck it. Loot it was. He could make a decision after he checked the vibes of whatever was going on. 

---

Now

Blood dripped onto the dark asphalt of the ground, the limp hero letting out another gurgling cry as Stain traced a line from his cheek to his ear with the tip of his blade, splitting the skin almost absentmindedly.

 

Splayed out, unable to do more than twitch helplessly, Native’s arms were dripping red, flesh scored in careful lines, cutting around the nerves and the major veins and arteries as the skin was peeled back and muscles severed. Afterall, if he ran out of time, Stain wouldn’t want this… pathetic excuse for a hero to get back to work.

 

“We’ve tested your sense of touch… How about your sense of taste. ”

 

He reached up, fingers digging into the fleshy part of the jaw and squeezing, pulling it wide even as Native began to thrash, gurgling screamings trying to escape his slack mouth.

 

“Shhhh, we don’t want any unwelcome guests…” Stain tapped the knife, point out, against Native’s lips, leaving blossoming red dots where the razor honed edge sliced the skin with ease. “But it seems we’ll have to suffer from them regardless.”

 

He turned, red eyes gazing down the alley as another figure appeared.

 

Gleaming white and silver armor. A helmet held in one hand, the other clenched and shaking.

 

“Stain.”

 

Licking his knife once more, he renewed his grasp on Natives twitching form, the hero desperately trying to cry out, but only managing guttural screams.

 

The newcomer… a teenager it would seem, tensed more, head lowering, red eyes locked dead ahead as his shoulders began to shake.

 

“I am indeed Stain. And who are you? I don’t recognize you among the ranks of false heroes. Yet, you seem familiar.” Slow and languid, Stain took one step, and another. Eyes locked on the teen. “In fact… very familiar.”

 

And that's enough to crack the teen’s wavering self-control. With a flinch the teen snarled, and Stain could almost taste the intent. Weak, unfocused… but that was bloodthirst. That was rage.  

 

And he charged.

 

Bright red heat from his legs, the revving of Engines.

 

“YOU ATTACKED MY BROTHER!”

 

Stain could only grin, the pieces sliding into place even as the teen came racing down the alley, swerving slightly, weaving around trash as he rushed headlong.

 

But what should have been a kick at high speeds dead center on his body mass was caught against the flat of a sword.

 

“ AH . That’s why you look so familiar!”

 

With a lightning fast movement, Stain backhanded the teen with the hilt, sending him staggering back, cheek red from the hit.

 

“You must be Ingenium’s brother.”

 

Stepping forwards, Stain couldn’t help the manic snarl that stretched his face wide.

 

“Here for Vengeance . Not even trying to help the Hero… Truly, you must be another false Icon in the making.”

 

The teen grimaced, twitching under the weight, the intent…

 

Before he steadied, red eyes glaring with focus.

 

“I’ll save him after I kill you.”

 

The revving of engines, the rasp of drawn blades- and they were off.

 

Discarded to the side, dropped when Stain had smacked him away, Iida’s helmet flickered, the communicator inside still linked to the local frequencies.

 

Frequencies where Manual was asking for him.

 

“Ah, Damn it. Has anyone seen my intern? He’s wandered off!”

---

Then

Izuku flinched, eyes squinting to avoid the sparks as he shoved a capacitor back into alignment, the wrench in his hand used to lever it into place, the gloo insulating the rest of the power main slowly darkening and crumbling under exposure to high voltage current. With a final shove, Izuku felt the capacitor finally click into place, and darted backwards, yanking the wrench with him.

 

With a flash of burning gloo, the foam gave way and the hum of electricity leveled out.

 

And around the power panel, the rest of the lights and devices in Kelstrupps office began to reboot. A recycler, a fabricator, and more. 

 

Including the safe and Kelstrupps own computer.

 

But first.

 

Izuku stepped back around the corner towards the printer stuck in the corner, and looked at the ‘Med kit’ that was sitting stuck in the machine.

 

“You aren’t fooling anyone.”

 

Lifting up his handgun, he tapped the ‘empty chamber’ option.

 

The med kit came tumbling free down the dispenser ramp, and Izuku nailed it point blank with a 9mm welcoming present.

 

The splatter of mimic and typhon material was oddly satisfying, as Izuku tapped at the controls and cycled through the various options. There weren't that many materials around, not in comparison to the stash he had in the main lobby, but there were more than enough to print off a few more shotgun rounds. Sliding them into his pack, Izuku made his way back to the desk.

 

“Right, what the fuck did Alex want me to find.”

 

The safe was easy, the 4 digit code Alex had sent to his transcribe unlocking it with no issues.

 

Sitting there, however, was something that made Izuku want to flinch .

 

A neuromod vial, the purple glowing with shards of gold that Izuku hadn’t seen before.

 

And it made him snarl, a torn and fragmented memory pushing through whatever the simulation was using to prevent him from remembering past runs.

 

“How important is staying Human to you?”

 

There, labeled clearly, was the neuromod’s name.

 

‘Typhon Trait Experiment-Shapeshift-1.1’

 

Izuku stepped back, and pulled his gun, barely realizing the instinct driving him until the vial was shattered across the back of the safe.

 

“No. Not again.”

 

Because that? That was enough.

 

Enough for neurons that had been suppressed to click and flicker, for the shades of his past runs to become more than just instinct.

 

Because he was starting to remember now.

 

What had led to his failure so many times.

 

“Tell me, Izuku.” Morgan Yu mused, looking at the vial Izuku had found in Psychotronics. “What would you do to have a quirk? Or at least.. something similar? Something… Better. ”

 

Now

Izuku swayed around a civilian, keeping in Miruko’s shadow and watching her corners as she marched through the street. His shotgun was tucked away under his chainmail cloak, hidden from sight along with his sword, a habit he had started after the first time he was stopped by the cops and Miruko had to explain things to a disgruntled officer.  Keeping it all tucked away, as well as keeping in Miruko’s wake, were the best ways to avoid awkward questions.

 

Along with that, he had also shifted his mask to what Mei had noted as ‘half-mask’ form. The lenses were collapsed and hidden along the sides of his jaw, the mask shifted into something to only cover his jaw and mouth up to his nose. A response to his preference to the ‘Mark 1 eyeball and full range of view’ as her notes called it. Izuku was just happy that it meant he could feel the air around him and see things for himself. The longer he used the altered vision of the mask for night patrols, or for keeping the rain off like he had a few days prior, he had felt increasingly… dissociative.

However, while the pair rounded another corner Izuku paused and tilted his head, hand coming up to increase the volume of his comms.

 

Manual was on the general frequency.

 

“-een my intern? He’s wandered off!”

 

‘Fuck. ‘

 

“Miruko, hold a second?”

 

As the rabbit Heroine slowed, Izuku stepped off the street into a small alcove between buildings and adjusted the mic on his mask, turning his comms off from the general frequency, pulling his phone out even as he used a voice command. “Connect to Kyo.”

 

Fingers tapped through his messages to open the patrol map for Manual even as he heard Jirou’s voice. “Go for Ear Jacked.”

 

“Kyo, it’s Izuku. Manual just called in. Iida’s missing.” Rumi gave him a concerned look, and his next words made her curse, moving to get a view of what he was looking at.. “I think he’s heading after Stain.”

 

“Shit.”

 

Rumi was leaning over his shoulder now. “Where do you think he ended up?”

 

“Manuals patrol map puts him… There. 33rd west and 12th north to 15th. That’s where he should be patrolling right now. Give it a three block radius. Alleys only…” More tapping as he filtered through the street map, looking around. “Shit, nothing jumps out, too many alleys. I wouldn’t bet on them being clearly marked. Jirou, how far out?”

 

“Almost 15 if I'm fast, and if Sai and Kunai let me. I’m North.”

 

“We’re closer, we could be there in 10 from the West. Miroku, you’re faster. Swing south and I’ll hit the West side, and then shoot straight through to the East. Jirou, get there as fast as possible, clear the north side. Then swing around to the East. We’ll reconvene there if we don’t find them.

 

“On it. I’ll see if I can convince my handlers.”

 

“Good plan kid. Let’s hustle.” She turned away before pausing and turning back. “I am officially giving you marching orders. Locate your missing classmate, secure him, and if possible track down Stain. You have permission to engage, as well as to fight to incapacitate. Stay in contact if you can.”

 

Izuku…

 

No.

 

Revenant looked up and nodded, even as his mask shifted from a half mask to a full mask, lenses and metal sliding and adjusting so that it was now covering his eyes and forehead. As he closed his phone, Revenant took off, seeing Miruko already leaping from the sidewalk towards the roofs, aiming towards the south of their target.

 

Revenant would have to take the low road, but that’s fine.

 

He began to run… and then to sprint. Each step was a ground-eating lope, a frantic headlong rush that paced faster and faster, interspaced by skips and leaps to clear obstacles as he headed for the map marker on his visor, dodging crowds by keeping to the edge of the street, or cutting headlong through alleys he could find.

 

‘Don’t be a moron Iida. Don’t die, not because of this.’

---

Then

Izuku stalked through the doors further into Psychotronics, eyes locked on what he knew would be here.

 

The Typhon containment cell.

 

Golden filigree filled the area, the sense of foreboding rising along his spine now tempered by something closer to hate. This was what had been messing with his mind. Had been used to reformat and redesign his very brain.

 

The thing that had been making him unstable.

 

The exact memories were still too far, still unreachable. 

 

But he knew enough. The end of this game, the end of this cycle. It was about stability.

 

And the further he pushed his body, the more he tried to become something more than human, the more he relied on the abilities the Typhon could offer him… the less viable he would become.

 

So fuck it.

 

No Typhon Neuromods. No superpowers or crazy abilities.

 

Izuku had guns, wrenches, and a hell of a lot of anger issues and spite.

 

They would just have to work.

 

Ahead of him, in the golden filigree (Coral, whispered the back of his mind. free formed lattices of Neurological material)  was one of the creators of the material. A central core, three long appendages floating from its centermass, swaying and twisting around the masses of gold as it tended its garden.

 

Flipping the scope down, Izuku confirmed what he already knew. The name that had surfaced in his mind, linked to poison and pain.

 

‘Weavers’.

 

One of the more advanced forms of the Typhon. 

 

Izuku turned away and walked back into one of the side doors nearest to the atrium he had just left, glancing through it to see a ruined stairwell, the steps twisted and cracked, and the wall dented, that led to the second level of the atrium.

 

Turning to the other side, he found a far more intact staircase, and took it at a quick pace, lifting the shotgun as he checked it was fully loaded and the safety was off.

 

He was going to clear the atrium, then he was going to move on and kill the weaver, and every other typhon that was making the fucking coral he could find.

 

‘Power? That’s what was screwing me over?’

 

He could see it. The long held regret and anxiety of being quirkless, the years of torment and teasing and pity. He would have leapt for the chance. Especially after feeling so powerless in Alien. 

 

He wasn’t sure if it was the memories he had found, or the distance he was able to make mentally from them, but he was tired of quirks.

 

Of power being dangled just out of reach.

 

So fuck it. Fuck Quirks. Fuck ‘magical solutions’ to his problems. Sugoh was forcing him to clear nine games, and he would. But he was done playing to the man's tune and trying to become some fucking ‘super soldier’.

 

What was it called? He had heard it occasionally on forums. There was a term for this kind of playthrough…

 

‘That's’ right. They’re called Minimalist playthroughs.’

 

No unnecessary upgrades. As few power ups as physically possible. 

 

So yeah. Fuck the Typhon powers. Fuck anything and everything that he didn’t actually need. They wanted him stable? Fine. he’ll show them stability. He’d get his fucking memories back, and then he’d finish this game the same way he had finished the earlier ones. 

 

Blood sweat, tears and sheer fucking rage.

 

Around the corner ahead of him a phantom stepped out, and Izuku raised the shotgun without breaking stride, blowing a hole through its chest, racking and firing a second time when it tried to get back up.

 

‘First things first. Where’s my fucking shotgun neuromod.’

---

Now

Tenya ducked, pushing his reflexes to the limit as a knife slammed into the wall just behind him, before he kicked off, rolling out of the way as the jagged edge of the katana sliced down at him.

 

‘Fast!’ 

 

He could barely react in time, dancing around the slashes and jabs of Stain’s blade, the inherent cruelty making it all the harder as he tried to adjust to the manic attacks.

 

Midoriya wasn’t like this! Not at all!’ 

 

Midoriya had been brutal but efficient. He had gone for kill shots, making every ‘hit’ an execution. He always aimed center mass, always focused his strike on the vitals. It made it so much harder to avoid a glancing blow.

 

But Stain- Stain was chasing him . His strikes intended to catch and tear with the jagged edge and chipped blade. Already, his armor was marked by shallow lines, some parts torn almost to shreds from crisscrossing strikes.

 

And through it all, was that heavy intent . A single minded hatred, wreathed in cruel satisfaction , that weighed down every step Tenya took, every move he tried.

 

But…

 

But it wasn’t that heavy, was it? It wasn’t much worse than the sensation of Midoriya’s eyes on him, of the heavy air above the hot sand as he trained.

 

A flicker of his engines gave him momentum as he twisted from one strike, ducked a second, and he threw himself back down the alley from a third, sprawling out on a knee as he glanced back, taking in Stains form, sword embedded in the asphalt where he had just been. Tenya was listening with half an ear at the rant as the Hero-Killer proclaimed he was weak, an insult to heroics-

 

No.

 

Block that out.

 

Don’t listen.

 

Focus.

 

He could almost hear Midoriya, voice dry and steady, as if he was standing behind him, judging him, watching him.

 

‘So Hero. What’s the play?’

 

Those words from the first exercise, from an armored figure looking at him expectantly, had haunted him for over a month.

 

But only now did it click.

 

Speed… isn't the answer. It was never the answer to the problem. The Solution to ‘I can’t hit you’ isn’t to go faster. It’s to think . To reorient the problem.

 

So what did he know?

 

He watched as Stain advanced, sword swaying with a weight that spoke of cruel intentions and pain. Red eyes locked on red eyes as Tenya rose back to his feet, parts of his armor left behind, shattered and ripped away by his roll, he saw Stains eyes assess him, roving over the ruined armor, taking in his work. 

 

Pieces of the puzzle slid together.

 

‘He’s confident. He’s so positive he has this figured out. That he’ll win. His weapon is likely a paralytic effect of some kind, and if it actually cuts me I've lost.’

 

Which explains the style, Stain never had to go for the kill shot. All he had to do was get through the armor eventually. Tenya had no idea how long the fight had gone, all sense of time lost to adrenaline and the chaos of the fight and the blind rage that still lingered in his chest, that wreathed up his spine and heart.

 

‘Distance. Midoriya was adamant about distance.’

 

The length of the sword-

 

The alley! It was narrower here, trash cans and external service access like electricity and air conditioning narrowed the alley. It was still wide enough for Stain to swing his sword back and forth…. But what if there wasn’t space. Or wasn’t an angle.

 

Every spar with Izuku was defined by the open space that he had chosen. No grip, no place to set his feet and rebound, no obstacles to stop him from repositioning to keep Tenya on his line.

 

But that wasn’t true here.

 

‘Stay off the Line.’

 

Tenya turned and sprinted back down the alley, hearing Stain’s tone take a mocking edge even as he turned, sliding to a stop halfway towards the mouth of the alley, looking back with a glare as he gauged distance.

 

‘Ten meters compared to one, right? That’s the math.’

 

Around his calves, he revved the engines, breathing deep as he tried to fuel them as much as possible, to torque the engines, to increase the output as high as he could.

 

The wall to Stain’s left was covered in trash.

 

But to the right, smooth brickwork reached for the sky, the back of the parking complex. A smooth surface uninterrupted by anything.

 

‘Make this one count.’

 

“My brother was a true hero. One like you could never compare.”

The engines flared, the ceramic plating of his armor cracking under the heat, the pressure, as the asphalt behind him shimmer with the backblast.

 

Stain raised his blade up, over his shoulder, hands tight on the handle, readying to strike, to counter.

 

“RECIPRICO BURST!”

 

The flash of blue flames, the streak, the skid of his boots as he pushed off, rocketing down the alley at the person who maimed his brother.

 

And around him, it was as if the world… faded. Simplified. The normally unfocused edge of his lensed goggles blurred further, leaving the peripheral lost in indistinct shapes.

 

There was only the line.

 

The streak of asphalt between him and Stain.

 

The line of his body, the shoulders, the blade.

 

A wedge in front of him where the blade could come down with lighting speed. A zone of death for his assault.

 

Stay off the line

 

A step that ground into the asphalt, nearly slipping as he adjusted his angle, swerving closer to the trash, to the left, into the open space.

 

Stains shift, sliding his left foot back, opening his line to fill the alley.

 

‘There ’

 

The line was a wedge. A metaphorical spotlight that shone down across the alley in front of him.

 

Tenya turned his feet, grinding the edge of his boots, ripping at the asphalt.

 

Not to stop.

 

But to curve.

 

Iida felt his bones creak, felt the G-force of the move pull at his entire body as he raged against it, shifting it, dragging it his own direction even as his legs, as his engines, pushed against the ground, skidding and drifting like the best of Tokyo’s racing scene.

 

He had feinted left.

 

He aimed right.

 

Not at Stain, but at the blank wall leading up to him. 

 

It was like skipping a stone.

 

Go fast enough, hit a shallow angle, and you can change direction.

 

Tenya changed direction from side to side, to up. He hit the wall and rode it. He ignored the grinding sounds as his armor skipped off the surface, as his engines washed the brick in blue flames, as his right arm, braced for the wall, had the armor shatter and grind away, tearing at the underlayer until it reached skin.

 

None of it mattered.

 

All that matters was the new line.

 

The line of his knee, clad in armor, dead center into the wide eyed look of shock on Stain’s face, the killer reaching for his shoulder, gripping a knife even as Tenya closed the gap.

 

Contact.

 

The echoing crack of ceramic on bone, the force of it dead center into Stains face, rang out, even as Tenya lost his control, the searing pain of something sharp tearing at his hip.

 

Everything had gone into the hit.

 

Every shred of speed, every piece of balance and focus and timing. All into that split second impact.

 

None was saved for the landing afterwards.

 

Tenya wrapped his arms around his head and braced as he slammed into the ground like the aftermath of a motorcycle accident, hitting the ground left shoulder first and crying out as he felt the tear of his joint dislocating, leaving his arm to come loose even as he sprawled out, twisting and rolling further into the alley, his armor shattering even more with the impact before he finally came to a stop, skidding on his side and facing the twitching form of Native.

 

For a moment, there was silence, Tenya only barely able to think, wracked by the pain and exhaustion.

 

However, as he focused, his eyes landed on Native.

 

And more importantly, the look of panic on his face.

 

Behind him, the sound of a sword being embedded in asphalt rang out, and Tenya felt his blood go cold.

 

Biting back a scream, Tenya pushed himself up, his right arm under him, his left arm limp, and looked back down the alley, ignoring the cracked lenses of his goggles, or the blood dripping from his cheek where he had nearly eaten the ground.

 

Stain had been sent to the ground, had been knocked down and sent sprawling, his body crumpled from the force, twisted to catch himself the best he could.

 

But not knocked out.

 

Hand braced around the hilt of a sword, he levered himself from where he had fallen.

 

From his face, blood dripped. Long red lines from where his mask had once been, now torn away, the cloth torn and shredded across the ground.

 

And maybe Tenya was still riding the adrenaline high, still in that giddy place where pain and logic were hazy concepts, but the only thought that came through coherently, was that Stain didn’t have a nose.

 

Just twisted and scarred  flesh stretched between his eyes and mouth, freshly ripped open from Tenya's kneecap.

 

Groaning in pain, Tenya pushed to his knees, even as Stain rose higher, reaching his feet.

 

“You…” the words were growled, nearly choked by rage, the same rage that suddenly surged, sending Tenya almost crashing back to the ground, as Stain rose taller. “Fake.”

 

Stain reached down, and picked up a dagger, a gleaming bright red coating its tip, from where it rested on the ground, with a guttural laugh.

 

“You failed, Faker. ”

 

Iida could only watch, confused and horrified as Stain brought his red tipped blade to his mouth.

 

“That was intended to be a killing blow… It seems you deserve the same courtesy.”

 

And with a lick, long tongue swiping along the flat of the blade, Tenya felt his body go limp and crashed to the ground, face first against the asphalt, a fresh sensation of horror shooting through his heart as he realized he was wrong.

 

It wasn’t a paralytic, or a simple touch based quirk that had to be avoided.

 

All the hero-killer needed was blood.

 

And now that Stain had his…

 

The steps across the ground were thunderous against the quiet of the alley… and the beating of his heart.

 

His heart should be racing. Should be panicking and fluttering, but under the effect of Stains quirk.. It was slow. 

 

And that was terrifying. He couldn’t panic, his body couldn’t. The edge of a panic attack pressed against his mind, but unable to respond to it, unable to lose to it-

 

Stains boot caught him in the gut and kicked him over, sending him sprawling as another chunk of armor shattered, and the spikes of his boot tore at his skin.

 

“So much hate for a hero. So much poison.”

 

Stain loomed, the katana, chipped edge gleaming in the shadows of the alley in his clenched grip.

 

“Removing you now… Well. it’s merely exercising a cancer at its source.”

 

Red eyes gleaming, Stain rose the blade, flipping it in his grip, drawing it higher, the edge catching an odd green light-

 

“Excuse me.” A voice rang out, almost polite in the dark of the alley, and drew both Stain and Tenya’s gaze. 

 

The source of the light was the lenses of a metallic mask, the mechanical face stoic and impassive.

 

Before either could react, the crack of a shotgun round rang out, Stain leaping aside as a blob of purple shot past him, splattering on the wall like paint, before bubbling into a violently purple foam that solidified in seconds.

 

Midoriya Izuku stepped closer, racking his shotgun with a casual ease, even as the lenses of the mask seemed to almost narrow, as if it was glaring, focused on Stain. “That’s my classmate you’re trying to kill.”

 

“Another Fake hero to be, another cancerous gr-” the words were cut off as Stain ducked, another round of purple splattering across the wall behind his head.

 

Another pump of the rack, another spent shell ejected. “Sorry, were you saying something? I could have sworn you were a killer, not a preacher.”

 

Stain gave a snarl, and darted forwards, dodging another blast of the shotgun before Izuku lowered it, hanging it once more under his cloak.

 

For a moment, Tenya could only watch, fear in his heart, as Stain swung the sword down.

 

Then the clanging of steel rang out, and two blades locked together, crossed between a mask and a bloodied face, red eyes wide. Izuku’s sword was half drawn, braced between his sheath and the hilt across his body, while Stains was slammed down, and indeed was gouged against the edge of the drawn blade.

 

“Surprise Hero-Killer…”

 

Izuku leaned in, and his voice seemed to almost… distort. Metallic distortion and something that warped the mind, something that felt like death echoing through it.

 

“You aren’t the only swordfighter around.”

 

And with a shove to separate their blades, both stepped back, and their deadly dance began.

---

Then

Izuku glanced around and lifted a glass on the desk, taking in the bright yellow post-it note on the front. 

 

NOT A MIMIC!

 

“Cute.” Setting it back down, Izuku looked at the rest of the lab.

 

And the same style of post-it note that was on nearly everything.

 

Whoever did that must have used the entire stack, and then a good chunk of the spare. The notes were sticking on everything he could see. Including the chairs, walls, desks, and counters.

 

Izuku kicked the body of the actual mimic he had found out of the way, and lifted his shotgun back up. He hadn’t run into another flaming phantom, not yet, but there had been more and more of what the psychoscope identified as ‘Greater Mimics’. The bastards were bigger, spiky, and were much better at stealth, able to take larger forms. It had only taken one instance of turning away from a push cart before Izuku started kicking them down the hallways.

The ‘post it’ room was actually the last section of this side he had to clear. He had already gone through a pair of offices, cleared the side hallway, cleared a room of sealed samples where they had clearly been being dissected, filled with more containment units for mimics and smaller examples of Typhon material.

 

The addition of another neuromod to his collection ‘ ‘IM-5-Computer’ was the only real thing of note, though he had found a blueprint for the design of the Null Wave transmitters, even though he hadn't had a need for them quite yet. Regardless, the blueprint was downloaded to his collection for later use.

 

Replacing his magazine in the handgun, Izuku slid the empty clip into a pocket to reload later. He had another full one spare, and about 20 shells total for the shotgun.

 

Opening the door out of the lab, he stepped back out onto the upper walkway, and paced around the upper edge of the atrium, pausing to unlock the airlock before continuing on to the far side.

 

However, he began to slow as he glanced up. There was a sign for a medical station… but the light was flickering.

 

‘Huh. That’s odd.’

 

Izuku came to a stop and reached into his pocket, pulling out a Null Wave transmitter.

 

‘Fire… I’ve seen the ones with the ‘Etheric’ energy… What's to say there couldn’t be an electric one. I’ve got spares.’ And the toughness memories had more than one instance of being shocked. 

 

His nerves were still healing, and he would rather not risk another seizure.

 

The last one sucked enough.

 

Creeping up, he glanced to make sure his handgun was ready, flicked the safety off, and leaned around the corner.

 

The medical office was tucked to the side of the wall, a locked door further along, but the lights around the office were flickering, sparks grounding in the metal around them.

 

Izuku could hear it. Not words, thankfully, but that chittering… noise that phantoms carried.

 

Well.

 

No point waiting.

 

Izuku primed the Null Wave transmitter, and tossed it into the medical office, and instantly he felt a wave of disorientation. A pressure on his temples, an ache in his nerves.

 

‘Targets Nervous systems, of course.’

 

But he could move.

 

And so could the phantom.

 

It came charging out of the office even as Izuku came rushing in close, nailing it center mass even as he met its advance shoulder first, wrench coming down on its lower body with brutal strikes as he kept the handgun planted in its chest, firing up into the ‘head’ of the phantom. One arm managed to strike across its back, but the angle was too sever for it to get leverage.

 

And with a grunt, Izuku slammed it into the counter on the other side of the medical office, nearly breaking it in half over the corner, as he beat it to death with the wrench.

 

By the time it was dead, body limp, Izuku was splattered in black down his chest and across his face, reaching up to wipe it off with a grimace.

 

And then stepped back as the transmitter gave out and the mass of tentacles sparked and buzzed with electricity before discharging into the counter.

 

“Fucking called it . Electric phantom.”

 

Wiping his face off with a rag, Izuku raided the station for its medkit stash and slid it into his pack, before stepping out.

 

“Let’s see… Door to ‘secretarial’ down the hall. A meeting room to the left, and what looks like a lab behind both of those…”

 

Izuku slid his last handgun clip home and stepped back into the medical station and closing the door and locking it, taking the time to sit and reload his other three magazines while considering what room to clear first.

 

“Screw it. Secretarial first, so I can circle back around here.”

 

Taking a minute to make sure all his gear was repacked, he headed for the office.

 

Tapping the ‘open’ control, however, he frowned.

 

“Locked. Of course. Well then circling the other way now.”

 

Turning left he headed into the meeting room, slowing as he took in a destroyed turret stand pointing at the lab door on this side.

 

“Ah. There's going to be a dozen Typhon in there. I can already tell.”

 

A kick sent a trashcan across the floor before he nailed it with two shots, revealing another mimic, before glancing at the closed door to the lab.

 

“Now… how likely is it that you are unlocked?”

 

Tapping the control, the door opened.

 

And Izuku stared at a foamed up window looking into the secretarial office from this side, and a dead body sitting drained against the door frame next to him, Gloo gun still in its hand.

 

“Oh. That's where they are. Right.”

 

Yeah, Izuku wasn’t going to fuck around. Reaching into a belt pouch, he pulled up a recycler charge, and primed it.

 

Raise the handgun, blow a hole in the foam and hear the screeches of mimics, throw the recycler-

 

Step back around the corner from the sudden warping of space time and the screeching of mimics who got too close.

 

When the sound of material blocks clattering across the ground rang out, Izuku stepped back around the corner, handgun first, and got to work.

---

Now

Tomura glanced at the watch. It was a battered thing, picked out of a bargain bin at a pawn shop. He didn’t need it for much after all. Just to count down to the right moment.

 

3:09:03

 

A minute left before his distraction. 

 

He glanced over the warehouse where he was standing, staring at the 12 metal and glass containment cells. All the Nomu were primed, ready, simply held in stasis waiting for their release.

 

And in the corner of the warehouse, black flesh rippled, blood red gems with gleaming purple edges punching out of ragged flesh like raised hackles, before retracting. The face hidden by layered metal plates, painted a dark mottled grey, forming a helm that was embedded into the flesh of the Hunter Killer. It was docile for now. Held and conditioned like a loyal hound. 

 

It would be his insurance… and counter. If Stain was distracted… if the heroes seemed to be a touch too adaptable.

 

Then Cestus would be his response.

 

He glanced down, and smiled.

 

The alarm began to ring, even as he closed his hand and turned the cheap plastic and electronics into dust.

 

“Kurogiri. Deploy the 12. And give me a good perch.”

 

The portal formed without delay, and Shigaraki stepped through, and out onto the rooftop of a high-rise apartment overlooking Hosu’s commercial district.

 

Keen eyes watched as one after another, twelve different portals appeared in the sky over Hosu.

 

“Some say you drop into hell.” One. Two. Three. Six. Nine. Twelve. The rippling mist of the portals stretched across the sky. "I wonder how it feels to have Hell drop down to you?"

 

One by one the sealed caskets fell through their portals, dropping like meteors into the district, eight in the outer ring, four clustered in the center.

 

Already he could hear the distant shouts, the crash of concrete as the pods embedded into the streets, into the sides of buildings or into cars.

 

In each casket, lines connecting warped black flesh injected cocktails of adrenaline and painkillers, along with dosages of a dozen other drugs into the veins of their passengers.

 

A cocktail designed to increase rage and induce a frenzy. 

 

And in the four around the center, a second dosage was injected.

 

A black tar-like fluid that had been off the streets for over a year.

 

‘Trigger. A Quirk factor enhancer, distilled and refined to the point of being lethal for any normal user.’

 

Even if the Heroes couldn’t defeat those four, if they weren’t killed by quirk or fist, those four would die by the end of the day. Torn apart by their own quirks.

 

Regardless, they were the distraction for the top heroes, and the time had come for them to play the part.

 

The caskets hissed open, blooming like horrific cybernetic flowers, their passengers tearing free of wires and tubing, clawing or breaking free as absolute mayhem was let loose across the streets of Hosu.

 

“A fitting declaration. The League of Villians was not cowed. We were not defeated, merely rebuffed from our beta test. This... This is our true release. We've hit the shelves!” 

 

Shigaraki couldn’t keep the manic grin off his face.

 

He could already hear the screams.

 

'Ah, the adoring audience is so sweet to hear.'

Chapter 53: Reputation

Summary:

What will you be known for?

What do they call you?

And what will you burn into their memory?

Now
“-only swordfighter around.”  Rumi couldn’t help the grin at her intern’s sheer fucking brass. Broadcasting the fact he had found Stain by opening his comms? Smart. Already she could hear the voices of Edgeshot’s sidekicks talking to each other and the other intern as they headed for Revenant's GPS coordinates.

“Good! Keep him occupied, I’m on my-” 

 

The crash was sudden, a massive mechanical cylinder slamming into the street hard enough to smash through the upper layers of concrete and asphalt, water lines already spraying up into the air around it, the gleaming metal of the casket only broken by a dark green glass panel in front, facing just to the left of Miruko herself. Nearby, the civilians were backing up, showing a shred of self preservation as they got clear of the crash site.

 

“-Fuck. Revenant! I, Miruko, give you authorization to disable the Hero-Killer by force! Do not let him escape! I’ve got another problem here, the others should reach you in five minutes top! Don’t fucking die kid!”

 

There wasn’t a verbal reply, but as the channel flickered back on to the sound of metal on metal, there was a pair of clicks over the line, before it went quiet.

 

‘Message received.’

 

Rumi was so glad they had covered communicator etiquette. 

 

“Now,” She turned back towards the opening metal coffin as the top hissed and creaked open, taking in the way a black scaled hand grasped the edge, levering a massive, neckless figure wreathed in gleaming black scale and dripping something that smelled like formaldehyde out from it’s depths. As it crested the edge, she could make out a wide mouth that opened like a massive ‘Y’ reaching from the thing’s jaw, which apparently replaced its goddamn collar bone, down to it’s navel, and lined with enough twisting and thrashing teeth to make a shark jealous. “What the fuck are you.”

 

Apparently, talking shit and not sprinting away was enough to get it’s attention, considering how the half dozen large eyes embedded across it’s shoulders and sides swiveled her way. 

 

Then the fucker jumped her way.

 

Mouth first, and with a big fucking tongue snapping out.

She dodged, but couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as that tongue punched through a car, and then ripped the car's back door back with it, only for the mouth to crunch it with a sound that was remarkably similar to what she thought a blender with a cow bone might sound like.

 

“Right. I’m just going to beat the shit out of you until you surrender now.”

 

The only reply she got before she slammed her foot into it so hard the bounce it made dented the metal box it came from was something that was vaguely like a scream.

 

Of course, then it got back up and tried to eat her.

---

Then

Izuku walked back down the stairs, reloading the magazines for his handgun even as he kept his eye on the gleaming gold webbing around the central containment.

 

As he slid the final bullet home, he came to rest back at the glass window looking in, watching the coral twisting around as the Weaver moved about, that incessant itch lingering along his spine.

 

Fear and rage, laced with a command. A directive. An instinct.

 

‘Kill it. Kill the weavers. Burn the coral away.’

 

Breathing deep, he tucked the emotion away, focusing past the incessant white noise of rage, compartmentalizing it.

 

He would get to the murder, but only after he was ready for it.

 

Turning to the left, Izuku paused, and looked at the sign next to the door.

 

Material Extraction.

Armory.

 

Of course, looking through the window on the door showed a hallway covered in flames.

 

Cause of course, nothing is fucking easy.

 

The other direction was the Morgue and Live Examination, neither of which were enjoyable thoughts.

 

Regardless, he knew the drill by now. Hefting back up the gloo gun from where it hung off his back, he tapped the button for his suit's helmet, let the hexagonal matrix unfold into place, and opened the door into the smoke and fire filled hallway.

 

Layers of gloo were fired into the burning chunks of what looked like a push cart soaking in and choking out the flames even as Izuku maneuvered around the hallway itself, shifting around the jets of flame to get close enough to fire more goo over the piping, sealing it off once more.

 

By the time he had finished the stretch of the hallway that was on fire, he was feeling more than a touch crispy around the very edges, even if the suit was still looking fine, and his Transcribe was reporting it was still airtight.

 

It also revealed a foam and metal sealed up window into the armory. Or so Izuku assumed, considering the entire front of the window was charred, including what signage was supposed to be there.

 

But… the hallway ahead did curve around the armory. And there had to be a door in for whoever was actually handling the equipment..

 

Slinging the Gloo gun back, Izuku lifted up the shotgun and moved along the rest of the hallway, hugging the corner as he moved to the clearly marked ‘Mineral Extraction’ area, where another door was foamed up. With a smack of his wrench, he broke the foam, stepping back to check for any… sudden surprises, before pushing through.

 

The doorway opened into a large open area, one wall once again looking out into the central containment area, but covered with armored plating.  Raised walkways lined the floor, circling support pillars and leading to the three other doors in the area.

 

But ahead of it, set in the center of the room. Raised above lab tables and a computer bank, was a clear glass cell, one side lined with three containment cells that looked similar to the Typhon containment banks in the labs.

 

And it was occupied.

 

A man with a shaved head, pale blue eyes staring out of a gaunt face looking his way, wearing a loose green and white jumpsuit.

 

“Well now.” he called, voice ringing with a faint American accent. “You don’t look like one of the docs.”

---

Now

The ring of metal on metal echoed off of wet concrete. Two swords, one a jagged katana, edge rough and pitted, but gleaming with jagged points, roughly sharpened to inflict cruelty, the blade curved to slash and swing through the air, lashing out.

The other a straight line, the edge gleaming a shifting golden-red-black in the dark of the alley, the true color lost to the darkness, scattered in the faint afternoon light that filtered past concrete walls and reflected off the damp ground, and the green light of it’s wielders mask that reflected off it’s edge. 

 

The differences were even more stark in the styles and methods of the fighters themselves.

 

Stain charged and swung with a brutal style, heavy, devastating swings, the blade curved and torn through the air in frenetic attacks that chased in messy chains after the more slender shape of Revenant, the cloth that hung in ragged strips from stains body almost echoing his frantic motions.

 

A sway, Revenant taking a quarter step back, his body in fluid motion, feet drawing small quarter circles across the ground as he seemed to almost contort around enraged slashes, his blade coming up with soft circles of the tip, always catching the lashing katana with taps of the point, drawing Stain in, wreathing the two of them in a deadly dance.

 

The two had other weapons. Stain clearly held two more swords across his back, and over a dozen other knives were clearly visible. Revenant had already demonstrated his shotgun, and beneath the swaying cloak that covered his movement, another gun and several weapons hung from his belt, visible in flashes as the thin chainmail weight shifted with his steps.

 

Despite that, perhaps by an unspoken agreement of intent, the two only clashed with swords for this first bout of effort, dancing back and forth as they felt each other out.

 

A dance that, step by step, began to move from the downed forms of Iida and Native, drifting as Revenant gave ground with minimal effort and careful steps, keeping just ahead of the cruel arcs of the katana.

 

With a snarl, Stain stepped further, and swung wide and flat, only for Revenant to respond by closing a half step, bringing his blade around, bracing against the slash not at the end of the blade, but close to the hilt, cutting the force against his own swing, blades ringing out as another notch was left in Stain’s blade.

 

With a snarl one of Stain’s hands left the Katana, snagging the grip of a knife sheathed along his arm and slashing out, Revenant merely pushed away, stepping back just as it brushed along the edge of his cloak before smashing the flat of his blade along Stains wrist, sending the knife flying into a pile of trash.

 

Stepping back for the first time since their staring clash, they took the open distance to reassess.

 

And Stain couldn’t help but resume preaching, to continue his tirade. “Another false Hero! You’re just another fake , trash among trash!”

 

Revenant slowed at that, head tilting before his voice filtered out.

 

“And who are you to be the Judge?” Izuku loosened up, twirling his blade in a quick circle, to reset and freshen his grip, before he rested his blade with the flat placed across his left wrist and forearm, letting the point hang low and left, just off center while his body leaned forwards and took pressure off his spine. “Who appointed Stain the executioner of a crusade?”

 

Stain snarled, pacing to Revenant’s right slightly, away from the angled blade. The hero-killer's body was a mass of tension and anger as he gnashed his teeth while staring at Revenant. “I was anointed by this world . I was shown that there was an evil greater than any villain. The False Icons. The corrupted and blind heroes. Those who left the world in agony.” A tensed step, and the katana came around and down, brutal force behind it, as Revenant stepped in once more, lashing up with his sword to meet, and this time to lock the strike. With a screech of metal on metal, the two blades once more crossed, scarred metal notched across matted black and a single gleaming edge, locked between an emotionless mask and snarling bloodied scars.

 

“You’re not really wrong, you know.”

 

The soft and distorted words made Stain freeze, making him hesitate at the statement, and letting Revenant continue. “There are worse things than villains. Worse than criminals and street punks. I should know, I’ve faced them before.”

 

A tilt, an almost assessing look, and Stain couldn’t help but feel almost… Kindred connection. And he leaned into the lock, face taking a broad, almost manic smile.

 

“You see! The filth! The Corruption-”

 

There was a twist, and the swords yanked down, Stains blade locked in the crossguard even as it jerked to a new stop, missing Revenant’s mask by inches, the crossed blades caught in front of his mask's gleaming light, closer to the teen then the man.

 

“The fact however: is that you got it wrong, Stain. The thing that’s worse is you. ”

 

Revenant slammed his left fist, the hand that had slid free of the blade as he twisted the lock, into Stains gut like a sledgehammer, sending the taller man staggering back, barely able to react as the sword danced forwards, a flurry of strikes that aimed not to hinder, or to harass.

 

“This world's poison is cruelty, Stain, and you are one of the poisoners.”

 

No, This wasn’t about drawing the killer from his victims and buying time.

 

Revenant aimed to maim.

 

A streak of red was drawn across Stains cheek and tore through the upper lobe of his right ear, the blades tip a flicker against the hasty parry that barely deflected the blow from his eyes-

 

-Gleaming green eyes behind a visor, burning with memories of another man with that smile, that self assured zealotry-

 

-a brutal kick twisted out Stain’s knee before stomping and bracing against the ground so Revenant could lunge forwards and follow with another slicing strike, sending Stain stumbling aside as the blade twisted and swung towards his arm, only barely skating off armor and tearing through the sheath of a knife as the killer twisted-

 

-Izuku had seen that smile. The first hour of the Simulation. On the screen as it cheerfully lay out his torment-

 

-Stain lept and staggered back, trying to reorient, to reset-

 

-Izuku had already made a promise to kill one madman. If this one ended up maimed he would be satisfied with the dramatic irony-

 

-Revenant twisted back and slammed his sword around in a slash that knocked Stain’s blade up, leaving Izuku to shift, stepping forwards as he primed a strike from his side, both hands tensed on the handle of his blade.

 

-But if he ended up dead, Izuku would be hard pressed to care. Not with eyes like those.

 

Revenant exhaled as he began to swing, twisting his body into the motion, starting low and rising high and fast. Blight-killer was flowing in a cut that was straight and focused, one that eclipsed the brutality of Stain’s earlier attempts.

 

This wasn’t a strike of anger, of focused madness, of bitter hate.

 

No. 

 

This was simply pragmatism at work, backed by sheer force of will and long practice.

 

The Simplest Answer to any form of travel, after all, is a straight line from point A to B. 

 

This line merely crossed through Stain first.

 

The sword in Stain’s grip, held tight and frantically swung back down to block, to parry, to do something, wasn’t made of specialized metal. It wasn’t cared for. Wasn’t sharpened and honed with single minded purpose and treated with judging fingers that had felt a weapon shatter in their grip time and time again. It had never been forced to block a strike with the force Midoriya Izuku could leverage, his body coiled like a spring and let loose with single-minded focus..

 

Hell, the piece of steel didn’t even have a name.

 

No, Stain’s sword was a piece of pitted tool steel, inexpertly tempered and long since worn by time and use, a mimicry of its owner. A weapon debased by cruel intentions, left unhoned beyond the bare minimum of practicality, and left rough and menacing for the joy of its wielder.

 

It hadn’t even left a mark on Blight-Killer’s well-honed edge yet, and that wasn’t going to change now.

 

Perhaps one of these facts is why, instead of merely snapping when Revenant struck, it exploded. Stressed metal shattering under pressure, snapping and twisting under impact, as force traveled along its length.

 

Over a dozen shattered razor like fragments pinged off concrete, slashed through cloth, or merely were sent skyway.

 

And Izuku had been forced to sway and twist backwards, a gleaming shard slicing through the air above where his left eye would have been mere milliseconds earlier, another three plinking off the chainmail he wore, the force stolen and dissipated by the heavier material.

 

And that, perhaps, was the sole thing that saved Stain from being gutted. 

 

Instead, a twisted slash started just barely touching over his lower ribs, tracing a red line along the now shredded remains of kevlar and cloth, skating just barely across bone, before flicking up and away as it passed over where his heart lay.

 

‘It’s almost poetic,’ Izuku mused as he slid his foot back to catch himself from falling off balance, eyes locked on a fragment of blade that still fell through the air between him and the staggering Hero-killer. ‘His lack of care for his weapon may have been the only thing that kept that blow from ending his life.’

 

“REVENANT!”

 

The shout of a familiar voice drew his attention.

 

Just for a second, just for a split second.

 

‘I know better, goddamn it.’

 

But by the time he had turned back, Stain was sprinting, blood dripping from his chest towards the far end of the alley, and as Revenant took off after him, sword held low and ready, the Hero-killer turned back and leveled a considering, but pained, look and giving a wide bloody smile. “Choose-” And then he threw a knife.

 

“ME OR THE FAKES!”

 

And as the Hero-Killer twisted away, disappearing around the corner, there was a thunk as a knife slammed home into flesh.

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the room, taking in another drained corpse wearing a green and white science suit.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there's any of the mimics around here?”

 

“Mimics. What, the crawling ones? Nah, the room is emptied out.”

 

Nodding, Izuku walked closer, heading for the central desk, where a computer was set up.

 

As Izuku got close however, the man in the cell scrambled to his feet, moving closer to the glass. “Hey, Man! You look like a fighter. What, do you need guns? Ammo?”

 

Izuku slowed, watching as the man looked visibly more nervous.

 

“I, uh. I saw some of those science types head into the armory a few hours ago. Even saw them punch in the code!”

 

Izuku glanced at the armory, the clearly locked high security door, and back.

 

“And what would I need to do for the code?”

 

The tension racketed up, a look of almost… desperation on the man’s face.

 

“I’ll give it, and everything behind that door, over. You just gotta let me out.”

 

That didn’t sound like a bad deal.

 

Izuku tapped the screen to wake it up, and slowed. 

 

‘Volunteer Record.’

 

Something must have shown on his face… or maybe it was just the simulation pushing at him, but the guy spoke up.

 

“The name’s Aaron. Aaron Ingram.”

 

Izuku tapped on the option even as he glanced back up and met Aaron’s eyes. “Midoriya Izuku.”

 

Aaron nodded, and kept talking as Izuku glanced back down, eyes tracing the information. Much of it was redacted, but some of it.. Didn’t quite make sense. Siberia? Spoke with a fairly obvious American accent.

 

But as he scrolled down to the offenses, to what he was a prisoner for, Izuku hesitated.

 

‘Human Trafficking… Kidnapping… Drug dealing…. And Impersonation?’

 

He slowed, and Aaron must have realized what he was looking at.

 

“Hey. What are you reading, my rap sheet? Huh?” he sighed and leaned on the wall. “I swear on my momma’s grave that that's a stack of lies…”

 

Blue met green and he trailed off, before slumping. 

 

“Fine. I’ll be honest. Some of that probably is true. I’ve done wrong in my days. But this? This experiment? The goddamn aliens? This ain’t right, now.”

 

He looked back up. “C’mo, y’all got to let me out of here.”

 

Izuku looked down, and considered the page of information.

 

“You’ve done some bad shit, right Aaron? But it doesn’t look like you ever killed anyone.” Izuku tapped out of the screen, back to the menu. “Enough to be shoved in prison for a few years, yeah. But not whatever the fuck Transtar is working on.”

 

The other two buttons stood out.

 

Mimic Multiplication

Door Control

 

Izuku had a good idea of what each one did.

 

He took a breath, and released it. 

 

‘It’s the question, isn’t it? How do you treat criminals? Where do you draw the line? Where do you decide to be an executioner?’

 

Reaching out, he tapped a button, and the chamber door began to hiss.

 

‘I choose not to kill. Not another person. Not today.’

---

Now

Tenya had been forced to watch. To listen. To see the brutal and complex dance of swords as two trained fighters clashed back and forth.

 

Unable to move, he considered the question he had asked a week ago. 

 

“How would you fight a swordsman?”

 

“With a sword.”

 

And here and now Midoriya was proving his answer. The blades clashed and rang out, and before he could understand, there was a crash of metal on metal, they locked, freezing face to face, voices echoing and indistinct, before there was a sudden change of pace, the way that Midoriya changed from testing and defecting, to breaking Stain apart .

Iida could only watch as within three seconds, Stain was thrown back, and then nearly cleaved in half, only just escaping a mortal wound.

 

As Stain turned back, chest torn open, but not fatally wounded, Tenya could see panic in those red eyes.

 

As the killer sprinted at, and then past, Iida, he could just about twitch his head enough to track the killer, barely keeping eyes on Stain, just able to make out as he pulled a gleaming knife, and threw it with an ultimatum. Stain, or the lives of Tenya and Native.

 

For a moment, he could see the way the knife arced his way, aiming for his throat, for his chest-

 

“ME OR THE FAKES!”

 

Iida braced for pain-

 

But Native is the one who screamed, the once paralyzed hero practically leaping in front of the blade, before crashing onto Tenya, both of them shouting in pain from the motion, before Natives cut off with a snarl of pain through gritted teeth. Beyond the fallen hero, Tenya could already see Midoriya moving, sprinting forwards and sliding to a stop at Native and Iida’s sides, steady hand pressing on the knife embedded in Natives gut as the hero cursed.

 

“Gah! Fuck!”

 

“Stop fucking squirming.'' The mechanical tone tended to make Izuku sound clinical, but Iida was fairly certain that the teen was also just not fazed by the bloody gut wound he was currently dealing with.

 

Iida couldn’t speak, not easily, but he had to. He had to tell Midoriya exactly what Stain could do.

 

“ Dooor-Reeehya. Sthhaann. Blouuugh.”

 

If the mask tilting his way even as he pressed down on Native’s gut was any indication he was listening, so Tenya focused, trying to make his mouth move right.

 

“Quuggh. Quighhkkhh Bloouugghhd.”

 

Native also seemed to pick up what he was trying to say, and took over, speaking between pained gasps, his arms unable to actually grip around the knife wound, torn to shred as they were. They were even dripping more blood as he tried.

 

“Stain. His- gah- his quirk, It’s blood based.” The Pro-hero was gasping now, face pale.” He gets some of yours, licks it, and you can’t move.”

 

Izuku focused on the hero, and nodded, the mask unfolding to reveal somber green eyes, collapsing into what looked not dissimilar to a face mask.

 

“Right. You’re suffering from blood loss and shock. Hold on.”

 

“Tryin’.”

 

Iida could only watch, paralyzed as Izuku ripped open a pouch at his belt and pulled out a  syringe and a length of leather cord, even as he started talking, a light at his mechanical jawline flashing green.

 

“This is Intern Revenant, attached to Hero Miruko. I need immediate medical attention at the back alley of-” 

 

“Izuku!” Right, Jirou was here wasn’t she? Iida had heard her for a split second, down at the far end of the alley.

 

Tenya still couldn’t help a grumbled surprise as Jirou slid into view next to Izuku, the other teen finishing his call for medical even as another two pro’s showed up, one carrying the other as they flashed into existence around a silver kunai.

 

“Oh fuck!”

 

“Shit! Come on Native- what the hell!”

 

Those were.. Sai and Kunai, right? Edgeshot’s associates. Tenya met them earlier.

 

“Kyouka, passing the line to you.”

 

Jirou’s nod was accompanied by her earpiece also flashing green, before Midoriya focused back on the downed Native, ignoring the panicking sidekicks.

 

“You two, shut the fuck up. Native, bite on this-” He held the cord to the hero's mouth, letting him open up and bite down on the leather. “This is going to hurt, but on three, I need you to clench your abs like you’re doing a sit up.”

 

Native gave a pained nodd, and bit his teeth down on the leather.

 

“One. Two-” Of course, that’s when Izuku yanked out the fucking knife.

 

“Three.”

 

Natives suddenly clenched in pain, biting down on the leather hard enough Iida swore he was hearing cracking teeth, and yelling past clenched teeth.

 

The accompanied screams of ‘What the fuck’ from everyone else were ignored as Izuku drew a handgun from his waist, planted it into the gaping wound and fired.

 

The double hiss-click of the gun was drowned out by natives' scream as a purple foam expanded out of the wound, pushing out of the wound and foaming, bloody red running into the color even as it began to siffen into a purple gel, and then solidify.

 

And then the pro went limp, and Izuku yanked the needle up, the angle finally letting Iida recognize it as an epipen even as Izuku jabbed it into Native’s exposed chest.

 

Izuku stood, turning to the heroes even as he dropped the syringe and pulled the magazine out of his gun, tucking it away and pulling a different one from his pocket, this one marked with a bright red X. “He’s passed out, but is not going to bleed out from the gut wound and his heart shouldn’t stop for a while. You two, get him to the fucking ambulance, tell them I gave him a dose of epinephrine to increase his bloodpressure and heartrate so he won’t die from shock. Kyouka, stay on the line to the ambulance and keep an ear out for trouble. Iida’s paralyzed, message me when he fucking stops being paralyzed.”

 

Iida saw Kunai tense, back straightening under the orders. “Wait, what the fuck- why are you giving the orders? With the chaos coming in over the radio? We need to get both of you out of here, right now. Jirou is suppose to be backline, Edgeshot’s orders and you-”

 

“-Just saved Native’s life. Instead of panicking.” Iida couldn’t see Izuku’s face, but he could read the tone, and Izuku was unimpressed. “I’ve also been given a mission by my boss. Stain needs to be stopped before he goes after someone else. Now, save Native’s life, and evacuate Jirou if you need to, while I go keep Stain from finding a new target.” With that, Izuku took off, moving at something only just slower than a sprint as he hurled down the alley, though with the exception of Tenya, none of them would have been able to match his headlong pace without a sprint themselves.

 

Tenya could only grit his teeth as best he could, eyes locked on the form of Izuku, as he followed the bloodstains down the alley.

 

‘Please… do what I couldn't, Midoriya Izuku.’

---

Then

Aaron staggered out of the cell, quite literally wiping away tears. 

 

“Holy shit, I thought I was about to be fucking alien food.” He blinked tears away and held out his hand. “Now that, that right there is what I’m talking about. Thank you, so goddamn much, for showing some human decency, friend.”

 

Izuku shook his hand, and nodded.

 

“No one deserves to die, not right now. If we’ve got problems after this, we’ll deal.”

 

Aaron nodded slowly. “Yea… Yeah. That’s the god given truth my man. You want in the Armory? Cause I’m grabbin’ something to take care of business.”

 

As the taller man headed for the armory door, Izuku slowly loosened his grip on the stun-gun in his left hand, and followed, tucking the weapon back into a sheath on his belt.

 

“Gotta say though, you’re the one person who’s shown a shred of kindness on this fucking station man, you can believe I won’t forget that anytime soon.”

 

Izuku nodded, and pulled his transcribe, already considering how he could work with Aaron…

 

And there was one thing he felt like would be the best.

 

“Do you have any plans now Aaron?”

 

The American grinned, showing off a gap where one of his molars used to be. “Hell yeah, gonna hold up in a corner with a box of ammo and some fucking food.” 

 

The door hissed open, and Izuku glanced around the shelves of ammo, most of them half empty, boxes of shells spilled on the floor, and shotguns missing from the racks. 

 

Or most of them anyway.

 

Aaron was already lifting a shotgun from the corner, checking it over with slightly awkward, but confident motions. Izuku idly wondered if anyone in the chat would blame the simulation for playing to stereotype, before pushing the subject aside as he glanced at his map.

 

He had just cleared out every room on the way here… if there was ever a time to do it, it was now.

 

“I think I have a corner for you, if you aren’t against a bit of a walk.”

 

Blue eyes glanced up, watching as Izuku snagged a collapsed turret and started linking his transcribe to it.

 

“What kinda tomfoolery are you thinking of?”

 

Izuku tapped, and set the transcribe to transfer files to the turret, rewriting it to connect to his own systems.

 

“Before I started heading through this section of the station, I cleared out and set up turrets around the main lobby. Stairs, railings, elevator. Every major way in was set up as a kill box… but the fucking aliens, the Typhon, are sneaky. I could use a pair of human eyes checking things over while I'm away.”

 

“Sooo… what. I head back, set up camp, and just check the turrets?”

 

“There’s a fully stocked medical bay, a staff break room with a bunch of food and a comfy couch or two back there.”

 

Aaron bit his lip slightly before nodding. “You drive a hard fucking bargin. I’m in.”

 

Izuku smiled. “Good to hear. Now, hold still for a scan so I can add your profile as ‘Don’t Shoot’. And you’re gonna have to carry this turret back there.”

 

Aaron’s slightly nervous expression in the resulting profile picture was absolutely not at the idea that he would have been shot down by turrets, not at all. 

---

Now

Todoroki Shoto had been… aware of civilians. Had spent years hearing about crowds getting in his father’s way, the way that fans would get too close to hero fights. His father’s favorite complaints were often about bystanders not evacuating, about fans breaking through barricades for signatures before the fighting truly stopped, about traffic jams as people slowed to watch the fighting, ignoring the sirens of first responders trying to approach.

 

Shoto was only just realizing that Endeavor had never really told him about the days where things go from bad to nightmarish . 

 

Days like this.

 

“Shoto! Cover the left!”

 

Grimacing at his old man’s command, Shoto followed his orders, eyes roving the open area as he threw up another curving bastion of ice around the fighting. They had only just reached the plaza, an open air market and park area near the center of their patrol path, where the first of those canisters had been dropped in, and the shock of the sudden appearance had nearly stopped them in their tracks.

It had for Shoto.

 

It was only the barked command to investigate, the moving of the rest of the team, that pulled him from his thoughts and got him moving.

 

It was good he had, because by the time they got close, it was almost already too late.

 

Because the canister opened like something out of a horror movie.

What had crawled out of the mechanical cocoon was best explained as something out of a biologist's nightmare, over a full four meters tall, and sporting long clawed fingers and whiplike tendrils from its spine, all of them lined with bladed tips that could lash and whip around, dripping something horrifically caustic that melted through the metal and left smoking pitted marks on the concrete around it. Its maw was lined like a shark’s with rows of brutally jagged teeth, and its eyes rested in a scarred gash that peeked through nearly smooth chitinous plating that stretched down its chest and across it’s shoulders, curving around it’s joints. 

 

It was also horrifically fast.

 

Shoto couldn’t get the sound of cut off screams, the cries of the people who hadn’t managed to leave the area fast enough, and the few who had been too close to the canister when it first opened. The long limbs and whip-like tendrils were able to sweep through the first few civilian groups like scythes through wheat, painting the concrete red with the action.

 

And the ones who weren’t killed on contact, could only scream as their wounds festered , smoking and burning with the caustic chemicals.

 

Of course, by then Endeavor had finally managed to reach it, and the remains of the massacre were hidden behind the scorch marks and fire, Burnin following behind him with fistfuls of green flames while Kido focused on grabbing the few remaining injured and distracted civilians, pulling them from the fight.

 

When the shock began to wear off, Shoto rushed to Kido’s side, only for a barked order to come over his communicator lines to establish a perimeter.

 

Now, with the rest of the area cleared, Shoto was focusing on keeping the fighting contained, standing on top of the curved wall of ice that he was raising around the fight, keeping the fire contained from collateral, and the monster locked down.

 

It was even working. The monster from the canister was down an arm and half those tendrils from it’s back, it’s remaining limbs deforming and bubbling under the heat of his fathers attacks, while Kido and Burnin kept it stuck by intercepting it’s attempts to flank Endeavor, knocking it back into the inferno.

 

For a moment, Shoto almost felt hope. That they would be able to kill this monster, that no one else would die before him today.

 

And then the screams started up from the other side of the plaza, and he turned, eyes wide.

 

A car slammed from a side alley and crashed into the center street, frame warped and burning, as another monster lumbered around the corner into sight of the plaza. It was massive, a morbidly obese and top heavy mockery of a living being. Bulging grey flesh that leaked puss and oil barely visible under the screwed on metallic plates. A series of large bulging eyes traced down it’s torso, covered in mesh cages, all roving with manic fervor even as it moved through the scattered cars in the street.

 

The screaming cry of another civilian, a young woman maybe just older than Shoto, drew his eyes behind the monster, and he couldn’t help the taste of bile that rose in his throat.

 

Because there was a trail of gore and blood behind it. Cars leaking red and scattered body parts being dragged in the monster's wake, torn clothes hooked on the twisted metal of its armor, or hanging from its arms..

 

And as it thrashed around, swinging at another car, Shoto finally saw its weapon. 

 

A massive barbed auger replaced its left arm from the elbow down, the cutting edge barbed and twisted, hooked with long strands of flesh and dripping with blood as it was pulled free of another destroyed car.

 

“Contact, North side of the Plaza. Gonna slow it down.” Grimacing at the sudden demanding voice of his father in his ear, telling him to stay on containment, Shoto lept from the wall, forming a ramp as he fell, launching himself forwards into a skating run. He was already coated in frost, the stress of his quirk still biting into his flesh, despite the heat that had been coming from his father. Regardless of the frost, Shoto focused as he closed in on the new monster, ice coming to his arm, condensing in his fingertip and palm as he drew on the cold.

 

As he got in range, he couldn’t help but feel sick at the scent of rotting flesh and blood coming from the monster, before he was slamming his hand down, releasing a wave of ice forwards through the wreckage of the cars to engulf the new monster. The normally bright white and blue of his ice wasn’t the same, however. A disturbing pink hue creeped into the bottom of the ice, picked up as the moisture in the area was folded into the glacier.

 

As his ice picked up and incorporated the blood and the viscera of the injured civilians with it.

 

For a split second, as the ice wrapped the monster's form and everything stilled, he thought he had done it.

 

And then the drill began to grind inside the ice, and thick blubbery flesh began to shift and squelch , thudding against the ice coffin even a muffled sound of screaming echoed forth from it, a gurgling incoherent thing.

 

However, even as Shoto focused and began to reinforce his prison, the ice already there was beginning to shatter and crack. He grunted, before wrapping the Nomu another layer deep, and glancing at the nearby civilians, shellshocked and frozen with fear, and raised his voice. His arm was embedded in the ice, he couldn’t leave. The civilians had to go.

 

“My son! Please, have you seen-” Shoto closed his eyes at the sight of a woman with glazed eyes, her body shaking, her lap and legs covered in blood splatters.

 

He had a guess where her son had been.

 

Raising his voice, he did his best to channel Aizawa-sensei on a bad morning. To channel his father at his most focused and direct.

 

“EVACUATE THE AREA. NOW.”

 

Thankfully, enough people were listening, the mass of casualties and the shellshocked civilians started being herded away by the few who were still coherent, still focused. Some were being dragged into store fronts, the lobbies of businesses, around cars. Others were suddenly running down the street away from the fight, only trying to get as much distance as possible from the scene.

 

The ice cracked once more, Shoto could only clench his jaw and grow another, denser layer, doing his best to creep new ice into the cracks, to tighten his hold..

 

When the ice cracked again, he could only feel the first ice cold tendrils of fear in his heart, matching the ice cold frost that creeped along his skin. He was reaching his limits, the cold seeping into him to the bones.

 

But, the firefight was still raging across the plaza, his father and the sidekicks still fighting to kill the first monster.

 

Shoto just needed to hold the line.

 

So he dug into his core, into his quirk, and called upon more ice, thickening the glacier, wrapping layer after layer around the center.

 

He just had to hold on.

 

---

 

Above the plaza, features hidden by a deep hooded jacket and a black bandana, pale blue eyes watched the carnage with cold contemplation. 

 

‘Don’t die, little brother. I still want you to see our father’s downfall. One way, or another….’

---

Then

Izuku glanced past the door where Aaron was standing. After raiding the armory the two had scavenged supplies, including a spare transcribe from the doctor's corpse, and now they were going to part ways. Aaron going back towards the lobby, Izuku deeper into the labs.

 

“Hey, just a warning. You see another bunch of guys in green n’ white like me? Keep an eye on ‘em. Some of the others were nasty pieces of work.” 

 

Izuku paused, and nodded. “Stay safe, Aaron. Watch the corners. The security checkpoint back towards the entrance should be safe if you need to run, but stay alert.

 

“Will do. Good luck down there… and stay safe yourself, hear?”

 

“I will.”

 

For a moment, Izuku kept an eye as Aaron headed back towards the grav lifts across the way, before stepping back and letting the doors close.

 

As he turned, he focused on the weaver. It was still there, but it had… shifted. Floating and gently spinning in a circle before him, as if it was pondering him. Watching him.

 

“Don’t worry you piece of shit. I’ll be dealing with you soon enough.”

 

Lifting up his shotgun he headed for the hallway towards the Live Exam.

 

And the Morgue.

---

Now

Shigaraki Tomura laughed, seeing the chaos he had wrought. Already he could see at least two heroes had fallen. Mere sidekicks rather than the more experienced pro-heroes, but heroes nonetheless.

 

And that wasn’t counting the chaos that was happening song the sheep, among the civilians. 

 

The mark he would leave in the mind of the audience, in the hearts of the people, was already forming. Every death he added today, every hero who fell, would be another mark against the system itself. 

 

And with Stain falling under his banner, with his preaching and crusade against ‘fake heroes’ woven into the Leagues identity, they would reach even further. The disenfranchised, the lost, the wounded… they would all look at the League and consider . 

 

His earpiece beeped, the line opening.

 

“Yes?”

 

Stain’s voice came through the line, breathing ragged and with an undertone of pain, and shigaraki was already glancing at Kurogiri, gesturing to open a portal back to base. “I need a pick up. There was an unforeseen complication with Native.”

 

“What kind of complication?” A portal opened, and Tomura stepped back through to the warehouse, Cestus slowly stirring to awakefullness from where it had been resting.

 

Stain snarled, all vitriol and hate. “Some fake Hero teenager with a sword.”

 

Tomura couldn’t help but slow, his skull itching along the scars as he suddenly felt a surge of hate and focus.

 

“Did this swordsman have green hair?”

 

“Yes. He did have green hair. Do you know him?”

 

Tomura couldn’t help his own snarl.

 

“Oh, we’ve met.” A breath, ignoring Kurogiri’s almost concerned look before he put the call on speaker. “What’s your location? We’ll be there in a moment.”

 

Stain rattled off the streets near him, and what alley he was in, Kurogiri waving a hand to begin forming another portal.

 

“Cestus. Attend.”

 

Lumbering limbs and dull gray metallic plating shifted, and began to stride across the concrete of the warehouse, claws gripping into the concrete as blood red spines and crystals began to bloom across flayed stripes of flesh.

 

Truely, Sugoh had a deft skill for creating monsters.

 

The portal finalized, and Shigaraki stepped out, looking down the long alley as Stain came around the corner, chest stained red by a brutal slash that nearly had bisected him, barely bandaged by a long ragged stretch of cloth.

 

The Hero Killer looked like shit.

 

The cloth mask that he had come to associate with the man was missing, torn free by some force or another, but which had also clearly broken skin across his face, ripping scars open by the force. And, one of his swords was missing, the sheath at his side empty. While the open wound across his chest was the most obvious wound, he was limping slightly, and his arms and cheek sported slender cuts.

 

“Kurogiri will buy you a moment to tend to your wounds, and then will take you to Endeavor.” Tomura glanced to the side, letting Kurogiri generate a new portal, before back down the alley, even as he felt the hair along his arms raise with a familiar sense of tension.

 

“Actually… how did you disengage from the teen.”

 

Stain paused in his limp towards the portal. “I wounded a false hero. He should be bleeding out by now.”

 

Tomura nodded, and turned back, senses on high alert. It took a split second to focus his right eye to look past the eyepatch, to see beyond the concrete of the alley.

 

To see the beating of a heart moving his way, slowing at the corner.

 

“Tell me, Midoriya. How is Native doing?”

 

For a moment, it was quiet.

 

And then, with steps that echoed with the scrape of steel plating on concrete ringing out, Midoriya stepped from around the corner, handgun held at his side, gleaming green lenses locked in their direction.

 

“ Native should live until the hospital. Sorry to say, your kill count hasn’t changed, Stain.”

 

Stain gave a snarl, tensing for a fight, but Tomura raised a hand to ward him off. “Head off, Stain. Attend to your wounds.”

As the Hero-Killer dove for the portal, a shot rang out, blood splattering the concrete even as Stain passed through the portal with a snarl of pain. Shigaraki stepped back himself, moving to the threshold of the gateway back to the warehouse, feeling the cool touch of Kurogiri’s portal at his back even as the smoke swirled in front of him, ready to redirect bullets from his person.

 

Something that Midoriya must have noticed, as he didn’t shoot, despite aiming the gun center mass on his torso. The itching along his scars were almost electric now, the memory of the last time that gun was aimed his way ringing through his thoughts.

 

“I must admit! I was not expecting to see you here, Survivor!”

 

A tilt of the mask, the raising of the gun, as Midoriya focused on him.

 

“ The name is Revenant, Shigaraki.” Midoriya stepped further into the alley, keeping his gun aimed, steady and focused, on his torso.

 

“Revenant.” Tomura tasted the word, the callsign as it was, letting it linger. 

 

A good name, yes.

 

“What’s that phrase the chat liked to use… oh…. ‘Be prepared to kill everything’. Glad to see that you didn’t forget that.” Shigaraki kept his focus on the still, almost enthralling form of Revenant. 

 

The teens intent flooding the alley, nearly a living thing that practically prowled the corners and edges of the area, that seemed to make the light that much darker . To make it that much colder.  

 

The attention of a predator.

 

“You know so much. Too much. Who are you really, Shigaraki?”

 

Tomura couldn’t help the grin, the mania.

 

“Oh, don’t you remember? I’m shocked, after all… It's me, Dusty10.”

 

The wave of tension, of hate, redoubled. He saw the hitch, the wave of tension and beating blood redoubling as the teens grip tightened on the grip of his handgun. “ You.”

 

Tomura couldn’t help laughing, soft and breathless. “Tell me, Revenant. How did you like the end of the quest for the sun? I mean, I feel for Solaire, I really do-”

 

The ring of two bullets interrupted, and Shigaraki was cut off, throwing himself sideways, spectral eye tracing the fading trajectory of two bullets. One of which had been snagged by Kurogiri’s portals and redirected back at the teen, passing just by Revenant as he jerked backwards.

 

But the second, fired during the recoil of the handgun, had nearly taken Tomura in the shoulder.

 

“-BECAUSE I FOUND HIS FATE POETIC!”

 

“You Motherfucker. You’re one of the reasons I couldn't save him.”

 

Tomura couldn’t help it, the intent, a nearly physical thing was pushing on him, forcing him to take another half step back into the mists, leaving only his torso free, feeling the worried tug of Kurogiri at his limbs even as he waved him back. “You should really be saving those bullets, you're gonna need them tonight!”

 

The gun didn’t waver, barrel trained once more on the dead center of Shigaraki’s chest.

 

For a moment, nothing.

 

And then the mask unfolded and collapsed around Revenant’s neck, leaving green eyes locked on him, the teens skin flushed with a blush of anger, with rage.

 

“What the fuck did you do.”

 

Shigaraki smiled.

 

“You know. It’s funny, I didn't plan on you being here. I thought that it would be easy. With no one else here to see the game board. No one to play against… and then, just like that, you show up.”

 

Tomura watched as eyes narrowed, as Revenant refocused, as he began to put the pieces together.

 

“So here's the quest, Revenant. I let loose a dozen bioweapons into the city to send a message. I wonder how many civilians it will take to make it sink in?”

 

The widening of the eyes, the way green eyes darkened and shifted, realization striking the teen, his voice coming out soft and whispered. “You want a bloodbath.”

 

Tomura could only laugh at that. Because the gamer, his player 2, his PVP rival… was close .

 

“Bloodbath? No. That’s just the method, I want infamy. I want news crews, and comments sections, and the evening paper to scream that the ‘ League Of Villains Is Dangerous’. I want the world to look at Hosu and weep. ’” Tomura took another step back, letting the portal begin to close around him. “I wonder, Revenant, how many people will die tonight.”

 

He laughed at the teen’s expression even as the mist closed around him.

 

“I wonder how many you can save.”

 

‘There it is. ’

 

Green eyes wide with horror… but with something blooming under it. Something Tomura had been wanting to see.

 

The Fervor. The Mania.

 

The challenge was set. 

 

Now to see who would win.

 

The Monster, or the Villains.

---

Then

Izuku stared into the containment unit, eyes wide, heart racing, as the weaver sent waves of energy, tendrils of black flesh twisting from the coral as it was woven into the body in the testing chamber.

 

He hadn’t had a choice in this matter. To continue into the rest of psychotronics, and eventually beyond, he had needed to finish the experiment the scientists had started.

 

The body began to twitch, black flesh bursting from the still flesh, before it began to turn back on itself, ripping into flesh and tearing at the body, consuming it with voracious intent, as it began to thrash.

 

Before rising up on jerky limbs.

 

Not a human.

 

But a Phantom.

 

The memory came back. A summary. A thought.

 

‘The Weaver’s job is to eat corpses. Consume the dead. To create Coral and Phantoms and Mimics. The Weavers make the monsters. And they make them Stronger.’

 

From inside the containment cell, the weaver’s arms retreated, pulling back as the glass airlock sealed off, drifting away as if in content bliss…

 

And the door to the containment unit began to cycle. 

 

On one side, the containment cell, now occupied by a phantom wreathed in black and purple distortion, energy flowing off of it and the ruined remains of a jumpsuit decaying on it’s form, turned his way.

 

On the other side was Izuku.

 

Grimacing, Izuku readied his shotgun, one hand coming up to grasp a Null-Transmitter.

 

Whatever the weaver had… empowered, this phantom with, with the spikes and distortion, he didn’t want any of it.

 

But he wasn’t going to get a chance to leave this phantom be.

 

Not this time.

 

He watched the door control cycle.

 

He listened as it hissed, and began to open.

 

And then, he and the phantom rushed each other.

Chapter 54: Extermination Mission

Summary:

12 Nomu fell into the city.

If Izuku has his say, none will make it out alive.

Now
Izuku felt like his blood was on fire, like his nerves were vibrating with sheer rage.  It rose up through his lungs, through his heart and spine, poison of his own making that pulsed through him with every beat of his heart... Poison he would use to sharpen his teeth.

 

He sprinted down a side alley, nearly slamming into someone as he exited back into a main street-

 

He could hear it.

 

Over the war-drum beat of his heart, the distant shouts and screams of action growing across the district- 

 

A screeching. It was inhuman, unfiltered by thought or actual language.

 

No thinking person makes a sound like that.

 

His body was already moving, turning to track the sound through the echoes, even as he reached up and triggered his mask's deployment, letting it unfold as he started calling out instructions to the basic VI suite Mei had added.

 

“Comms, connect to the Hosu General Emergencies frequency. Receive only.”

 

As he moved closer, the crowd’s mood was changing. There was an air of panic, several people clearly running from something passing through the crowd.

 

Some with blood stains.

 

With a beep, his mask connected to the Hosu priority channel.

 

Chaos erupted over his earpiece.

 

. ”-t 13th and 4th! I repeat Casualties at 13th-” “-WHAT IS THAT TH-” “-SHIT! INCOME-” “-MEDICAL! WE NEED MEDICAL AT-” “IT WON’T STAY DOWN!”

 

The shouts didn’t stop. Heroes, paramedics, police, operators and dispatch- everyone who was on the frequency was fighting to be heard, to get their request in, to get help to somewhere or another.

 

Izuku could have turned it off, ignored it as a lost cause, but he… didn’t.

 

Instead, he fed it to his poison, burned it for his fuel. Felt as that rising anger thickened and boiled hotter, felt his skin flush with a healthy, and then a flushed, tone even as he listened. To the chaos that Shigaraki had started.

 

As he moved, ghosting through the crowd like a fish darting up stream, he parsed out location after location.

 

And then he was at the scene of a fight, passing clawed up cars and torn pavement.

 

“Comms, lower volume.” The chaos cuts to a lower volume, a murmuring in his ear as he focuses on the here.

 

Izuku took one last corner, and found his target. It was leaping through the air, dark skin reflecting a reddish sheen even as it was stretched taut over coiled muscles that looked almost more… Feline, then human, broad metallic claws slashed into and through a car, heading for the darting form of a hero who was surrounded by a wave of water-

 

In the gap between an inhale and an exhale, the world began to crystalize as Izuku opened his senses to full. As he stopped being willfully blinded.

 

Izuku was moving, was assessing, was letting his brain race ahead, his entire body redlining in the space between seconds as he listened , saw, and understood.

 

There, dodging a thrown chunk of car, wreathed in that wave of water, was Manual. He was on point, fighting as his water splashed up to catch the car, while another two heroes- ‘younger, mid twenties. Sidekicks? Possibly. Running support and evac’ - were dragging civilians out of the area and doing triage. 

 

Another step, the tension in his legs peaking as he hit the ground, before he pushed. Even as he reassessed and mentally clocked what Manual could do, Izuku’s body was moving a half step ahead of his thoughts, footsteps ringing as he dodged around a crumpled car, stepped onto a flipped over food cart, bent his knee to prime for a motion and gripped the handle of his blade, and then lunged .

 

He slid his thumb to press the sheath’s safety release as he pushed off the cart, and was already drawing the blade as he landed, knee buckling to leave him sliding forwards in a crouch as he touched down just as Manual was dodging away from another leap from the Nomu.

 

But Izuku was suddenly seeing two scenes at once, a hallucination sketched in blood that lined up with the creature leaping at him.

 

Exposed brain, claws that were layers of pale bone one way, but dark metal the other, reddish skin like leather that shifted to flayed muscles around joints...

 

He knew this monster.

 

It was almost in the shape and form of a licker .

 

The only thing missing was the tongue itself.

 

As it crashed down, already priming to lunge, clawing and thrashing towards him, metal claws gouging through asphalt with unnatural strength, Izuku pushed himself to his feet even as he drew and cut.

 

It wasn’t, really, an Iaido strike. There was none of the smooth practiced slide of a kendo practitioner where the curve of a katana lended itself to the strike, gliding out and back in a traditional draw cut.

 

No, Blight-killer left its sheath with a force borne of tension and violence , springing from the reinforced wooden and leather case with force already pushing along the blade, the tip nearly cutting the entrance to the sheath even as Izuku swung .

 

The first strike took the Nomu’s leading arm just below the elbow, Izuku ducking under the blood spray that arced over and past him, specks landing on his hair even as he twisted and drew the sword through the motion, shearing through the bone and ligaments as the sword swung through, his second hand coming up to grip the pommel of the hilt to increase his grip as he reversed momentum, the Nomu recoiling back from the pain, rearing up unsteadily even as the tip of Blight-Killer traced a twist in a half circle of blood spray behind him, before reversing and going back down along the same direction it had come from, even as Izuku pushed a half step closer, not giving the Nomu space to disengage. It tried to block, it’s intact arm swinging  but it wasn’t fast enough.

 

Izuku was within its preferred reach, and was faster.

 

Blight-killer took it on the collarbone at the center of the blade, the line of metal loaded with force, weight, and intent.

 

The blade touched flesh, and it cleaved.

 

The edge cut through the collar bone with the force of the strike itself, its momentum carried it down, snapping through the bones of the rib cage without slowing. Izuku’s arms tensed and grip sure as he ripped the blade down, cutting through the heart, the lungs, the tip of the blade severing spine , before the blade began to draw back, continuing the carnage down towards the opposite hip of the Nomu, cutting through the chain of back muscles that controlled its legs, the ravaged and modified biology of its guts… and then slowing.

 

The tip of Blight-killer finally stopped when it touched the opposite hipbone, but by then it was over.

 

One monster down.

 

With a grimace, Izuku slid his sword free and gave another brutal cut with only one hand, swinging the sword down in an arc that cleared most of the blood from blade, before flashing down and severing the head from the fallen corpse, the angled tip and last few inches of the blade cutting through the throat and between half exposed vertebrae with ease. Izuku only looked away once he had kicked it’s dismembered arm away, leaving the body to spill rancid blood across the asphalt..

 

‘First rule of unknown monster biology. Double tap and dismember.’

 

“Good lord-” Izuku turned to one of the sidekicks, watching as they scrambled from cover, eyes wide. “You- you just kill-”

Yeah, Izuku did not have time to get into this. “Not a person, not sentient. Murderous biology experiment. And there’s another ten or so of them in Hosu right now. ”

 

He watched as the sidekick was gripped on the shoulder, Manual stepping past him and giving a soft comment, one Izuku didn’t listen too as he refocused on the commotion in his earpiece. The sidekick gave a swallow, and slowly nodded, before taking off to attend to the civilians.

 

Izuku took in the way Manual was covered in scratches, including a long pair of cuts along his left arm. “I need to find my intern, Tenya-”

 

“Iida Tenya, I know. He got in a fight with Stain. He’s awaiting an ambulance with an injured-” a beep, icon appearing at the corner of his mask’s view. “Hold on. Getting a call.”

Reaching up, he accepted a new call from what he recognized as Kyouka’s communicator ID.

 

“Izuku! Ambulance just got here, and Iida's just got his movement back. Where are you, and what the hell is going on?”

Giving a glance, Izuku turned off his mask’s auto-mute function and spoke to both of them.

“I found Manual, we’re only a few minutes out. Stain’s working with the League and got portaled out. There's a bunch of Bioweapons in the city,” Izuku glanced down and swung to sever the other arm with a smooth motion, ignoring the minor wince that Manual gave. It was better to be thorough, just in case. “I’m heading your way with Manual, then I need to regroup with Miruko. I have a lead on where Stain’s going.”

 

“ Sai and Kunai are here, and they can’t get in touch with Edgeshot. Whatever plan you’ve got, I’m on backline work, as ordered.” Kyouka’s voice was layered with frustration, but she kept her cool. Good.

 

“He’s probably busy. See you in a minute.” Taking a second he ran his glove down the blade, sweeping the last of the blood free of the metal before flicking his hand free and sheathing it once more.

 

As he glanced back, he saw Manual tending to his wounds, water washing out his cuts even as he pulled a medkit from his belt. “Can you bandage on the run?”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Manual was clearly getting his mental state back and order, and Izuku almost smiled at the clear eyes and focus that had replaced the worry and surprise from earlier. “You lead, I’ll have my sidekicks deal with the aftermath.”

 

‘Practical. Good.’

 

“Keep up.”

 

And with that Izuku started jogging, making sure Manual could keep up with the pace as they took off, Izuku leading them straight towards the alley, instead of the winding route that he had chased Stain through.

 

When he caught sight of the hero using a stream of water and a bandage to perform a quick and practiced wrap of his arm, Izuku's respect for the man rose.

 

‘Well practiced that. Good. Hope he can keep up.’

 

Utility skills are not something to overlook in an emergency like this.

---

Then

The Phantom was difficult.

 

Whatever power it was using, the dark purple mist that billowed off it, wasn’t stopped by the nullwave transmitter, but it did keep it from warping at him again.

 

However, the mist was definitely some kind of caustic. It was eating through the enamel on the floor, and each time another ball of energy, layered and smoldering with purple mist, hit the wall it started decaying the paneling. And more annoyingly, it was lingering.

 

Ducking another attack, Izuku came up and slammed the shotgun's pump, firing his last shell into the Phantom and sending it reeling… but still not dead.

 

‘Fuck Fuck Fuck-’

 

Tossing the shotgun aside, away from the fight, Izuku threw himself clear of another blast of mist- just as the phantom turned and smashed the nullwave transmitter, the gleaming white and blue energy pulsing off it stuttering to a stop.

 

Izuku took the moment for what it was, and snapped a hand to the pistol from his belt. Without even rising from his knees, he braced, brought the gun up and unloaded.

 

‘Tense, keep the gun on target, take the recoil across the shoulder, not the wrist.’

 

Izuku was halfway through the clip, the number on the readout down to six rounds- before the phantom, now ragged and with half it’s torso a frayed and ripped apart mass, twisted and screeched flickering away -

 

And duplicated itself.

 

Two phantoms, both with the same catalog of fraying bullet wounds, began to assault him, and Izuku couldn’t do anything but try to dodge, twisting and leaping clear as one flickered in and smashed the floor, leaving another pool of purple energy.

 

Throwing himself under another blast, he slid over one of the caustic pools, and hissed as the knee of his suit began to disintegrate, including the actual skin beneath it.

 

‘ Need to do something, fuck-’

 

Pushing out of the pool, Izuku reached for his belt, hand snagging the first device he could, depressing the trigger and tossing it underhand even as he sprinted around the room, trying to avoid the rapidly growing pools of purple.

 

The recycler charge skipped off the floor and landed right behind one of the phantoms, and as it began to distort space, that phantom was forced to try and warp away.

 

Leaving the other with its flank wide open.

 

Six more shots rang into the torso of the phantom, and with a final screech it dissipated-

 

Leaving only one more.

 

Izuku dropped his handgun and sprinted towards the spatial distortion even as the charge fizzled, space popping back into its right configuration, leaving the disoriented phantom in its wake.

 

And it stayed disoriented because Izuku slammed the barrel of his stun gun into its gut and discharged electricity across its surface, sending its body twitching and staggering back- even as Izuku slammed his wrench around and into its ‘face’.

 

As it went prone, Izuku decided to practice stomping his extra large space boots into the fuckers face.

 

“Get-”

With a second stomp, the flesh gave way.

 

“FUCKED”

 

The phantom gave one last twitch, before it fell limp, the remnants of its ‘head’ splattered over the floor as the pools of purple began to… fizzle, and fade away. There was no source to maintain their existence, not anymore.

 

Taking a breath, Izuku hissed out with pain.

 

Getting close had let the phantom’s ‘aura’ start eating at Izuku’s torso, and with the rush of adrenaline fading,the pain was starting to make itself known. Across his chest and shoulders, it felt almost like a chemical burn, his skin pocketed and marked by the caustic energy. It wasn’t much more than skin deep, but it was still painful.

 

“Ow. Fuck.”

 

Limping slightly, Izuku headed for his shotgun, sitting in the corner where he had tossed it, and undamaged by the fight.

 

Sliding a full set of new shells into it, he hefted it back over his shoulder by the sling and turned to find his handgun-

 

“Again? Fuck.”

 

Half the handgun was a ruined mess of pocket marked metal.

 

Cause he had dropped it in a fucking puddle apparently.

 

Groaning, Izuku tossed the ruined parts back into his backpack and sorted through the accumulated parts and supplies to find his spare.

 

With a grimace he drew another handgun, checking it was undamaged even as he pulled one of the filled magazines from his belt, grumbling at himself in the process. “And this, dumbass, is why we always keep a spare.”

 

With a click, the magazine slammed home and Izuku slid the gun into his holster.

 

“Right. That’s done.”

 

Turning to the computer console, Izuku tapped the ‘End Lockdown’ command and gave a sigh as the three doors to the room unsealed.

 

One back the way he came, one further on towards the spine of the station…

 

And a third opened into a room with a grav-lift heading down.

 

To the morgue.

 

Izuku gave a considerate look at his options before sighing and turning towards the grav-lifts down.

 

“A morgue would have medical equipment, right?”

---

Now

Six arms braced, clamp-like claws digging into the side of the building as the monsters landed from another leap, it hissed, jaw and throat opening to reveal mandibles and chest expanding as one of the long spines that fanned out behind its neck like a mane of spears rattled, and then launched down the street. The point soared past several other twisted bone spears, some pinning corpses to the street, others merely embedded in cars or storefronts-

 

Before shattering against a hexagonal stone surface.

 

“NOT TODAY, VILLAIN!”

Crust grinned even as he knelt, his shields up and spread, the leading edge planted on the ground as two more of the spears shattered against the shields.

 

Behind him, one of his sidekicks, Shell, was bandaging the last of several civilians, wrapping a wound in a pale cast made of his quirk.

 

“Done! Ready to move.”

 

Crust nodded and breathed out, before he pulled one hand free and moved towards the edge.

 

He had been fighting this monster for almost five minutes now, and while he had managed to injure it early on, leaving one side of its torso lacerated, it had leapt out of range and began to unload spears down the street, and whenever he tried to pin it down, it merely repositioned, its hands allowing it to crush footholds into the brickwork surrounding the street.

 

If he had a better range with his shields, he would be taking potshots back, but the monster had started targeting the civilians still in the area, and he had been pinned down.

 

Now that the civilians are ready to move…

 

With a grunt, he slammed his hand in the ground and grew another line of shields, pushing them across the ground, these one angled to provide even better cover, and leading to a broken storefront nearby.

 

“Go now! Quickly!”

 

As the civilians began to shuffle to safety, Shell leading them, Crust leapt over the barrier and charged forwards, two angular shields over his arms growing thicker and sharper as he sprinted, eyes locked on the Nomu as it refocused on him, chest expanding as it drew in to fire another spike-

 

Sidestep, and deflect!

 

The spear slammed towards him and he dodged, using the shield to deflect it to the side as he got closer, using a car to get higher as he drew back one arm, reshaping the shield into a single line of hexagonal panels layered over themselves.

 

“LETS DANCE, FOUL BEAST! JAVELIN LAUNCH!”

 

Grunting he snapped his arm forwards, sending the Spear-shield forward with a grunt of exertion and catching the monster in one arm, throwing its next shot off line.

 

Crust could only grin as he sprinted forwards, another shield forming in his grip.

 

“COME AT ME!”

 

The monster was more than willing to respond in kind.

---

Then

Izuku lifted up the plastic crossbow and glanced at the broken window into the sealed off morgue.

 

“...This is hilarious.”

 

He had ignored it earlier, not having the memories of just how to use it, but the toy crossbow was actually really cool. This one in particular was something that he was fairly sure he had redesigned at some point. A simple collapsible design with an internal elastic and underslung reload lever. It folded down to something smaller than his wrench, and was damn near silent.

 

What was most important, however…

 

The foam bullets were heavy enough to trigger holographic buttons and door switches, but not hard hitting enough to damage the mechanisms.

 

Lining up his shot, he fired it through the window, and watched the door’s holographic lock turn green.

 

Lowering the crossbow, Izuku stepped over the smeared corpses of the mimics he had killed when he first came down here, and pushed into the actual morgue.

 

Namely the examination and vivisection room.

 

Bodies lay across gurneys, sat in the cabinet on rolling tables. The air was filled with the scent of blood and cleaning chemicals, and the sight of gruesome bodily damage….

 

It made him uneasy, but not because of the gore. He had seen worse, had been hurt worse, more than once. 

 

It made him uneasy because he was growing to only dislike bodies, not fear them. He remembered the corpses in the asylum, where the scent of blood and decay had led him to puke. How finding the remains of… the security guard in Freddy’s had sent him into a depressive, panicked, spiral. The dead he had found in Sevastopol had forced him to bite back bile, to hold in panic and fear.

 

Those events had evicted human responses from him.

 

But… those responses had begun to vanish. Had faded .

 

Izuku was losing the taste of bile when he found dead bodies, when he stumbled across scenes of… horrific death.

 

He was growing numb to it. Had begun to identify… history from them. Torn apart bodies weren’t something to fear, but something to check for warning signs. Blunt damage left crushed sternums and twisted limbs. Cutting left blood stains, deep lacerations, led to death through blood loss. He could tell electrical burns from chemicals, and both from the differences between explosives or fire. 

 

He had learned the language of dead bodies.

 

And that makes it harder to feel horror at their treatment. Harder to treat death, to process horror as horror. Because it was for survival, it was a warning. Bodies warned of killers. Told him how his enemies acted. What weapons they would bring to the table.

 

So Izuku searched the morgue with steady hands and a blank face.

 

And on one of the tables, he found it.

 

The body of Dr. Sylvain Bellamy.

 

The same doctor who tested him on that first, fatal, day. 

 

Before the memory resets.

 

“Is this my coffee? It’s empty.”

 

Izuku reached out and traced the lines of caved in flesh where the mimic had grabbed him, looked over desiccated flesh.

 

And then he rummaged his pockets, finding a keycard for his office back in the main lobby…

 

And a neuromod.

 

IM-1-Medical .

 

Izuku lifted the vial up slowly, watching the purple fluid slosh back and forth.

 

‘The Neuromods are numbered. I’ve seen up to 14, but… but this is IM-1. This might be the ‘First’ of them. It could be what I learned on my first run? But no, the other mods aren’t just a single run’s knowledge. This… is this all the medical knowledge I've learned in Prey?’

 

Izuku gripped it tightly, and breathed out.

 

He… He needed to see what this one was. But not here. Not in the morgue. He needed somewhere… somewhere secure. Another security office or something.

 

Sliding the canister into his bag, Izuku made sure it was secure, adding the security card to his stash even as he looked down at Bellamy’s corpse one last time.

 

…a thought came to mind. A question.

 

“I guess I'll never know the answer… But what was the point of the trolly question? Why was that your touchstone? There's no real answer to it. It’s all about personal accountability, especially when you change the variables…”

 

He rose up and glanced around, taking in the eerie silence of the dead.

 

With a sigh, he headed for the door.

 

“Guess none of you can tell me.”

 

Leaving the room, he triggered the lock once more.

 

Best to leave the dead undisturbed.

---

Now

Rumi ducked and grimaced as the jagged ends of the tongue snapped towards her. 

 

The fucker just wouldn’t stay down.

 

Even if he was doped up on some kinda trigger or chemical additive, she should have put the damn thing in the ground by now, but instead whenever she got in close enough to hit or break a limb, it bent.

 

It was like trying to hit a rubber dummy, blunt impact was not doing it. The tongue had been easy enough to disable at least. Pinning it to the street had let her hit it with a heel kick sharp and fast enough to rip half of it off, but getting close enough to do that to the body was a fast track to getting caught in the grinder that was it’s torso-mouth.

 

The fact her left arm was covered in gashes from where she had to make a quick escape was proof of that.

 

For now, she was essentially stuck playing keep away with the thing, trying to get it maneuvered into position so she could pin it down and-

 

“Miruko, ten seconds out. Get it in the street.”

 

Huh, sounds like her intern is back.

 

Speaking of…

 

Dodging a leap, Miruko twisted and gave a brutal wheel kick, bouncing the rubbery body off the ground and up-

 

Just in time for her to finish her spin and slam it out into the open street.

 

Landing, she bounded after it, watching as it twisted back up, clawing over a car-

 

The ringing of Revenant’s boots was the only warning, before he was there.

 

The green and black form cleared the eaves of a shorter building without hesitation, sword already drawn as he twisted to line up. The monster didn’t even get a chance to react before he caught the thing in the spine with the blade- and his boots hit the shoulders and drove it forward, face first into the hood of a car.

 

And then the sword was driven through the engine block.

 

With a screech, it was pinned, through the back and out of the mouth, to the car, its teeth and maw thrashing and scraping at the paint and body work, but unable to actually get a grip.

 

“Miruko-Buchou.”

 

That was hard professional courtesy. Fuck, what was the situations now .

 

“Revenant. I thought you were after Stain?”

 

The teen gave a nod. “There have been complications.” As he spoke, he pulled a slender spike from his belt and jabbed it into the creature's spine above his blade. The monster was still thrashing, but without any leverage and unable to move it’s lower body, it's thrashing was easy enough to ignore.

 

With a smooth motion, the sword was pulled out- and the spike sparked to life. A fizzing bar of thermite that was burning through the monster's back and dripping out its mouth. It tried to thrash, to escape, but Revenant simply planted a boot in it’s back and held it in place until it… stopped .

 

In under ten seconds the body was finally falling limp, only the scent of… burned pork remained. In moments, the thermite reached the engine and the gas lines, and the entire engine compartment began to burn as well, the front half of the nomu left to sit in the fire, just to make sure it wasn’t coming back.

 

And Rumi was suddenly on edge. That was excessive lethality, and now that she wasn’t focused on the obvious enemy, the lines and emotions of her Intern were screaming at her. He was murderously angry.

 

“Sit-rep kid. What happened and what’s with the execution.”

 

The masked face of Revenant tilted her way, emotionless steel and green lenses gleaming with lethality… before unfolding to reveal Izuku. And the way his face was etched with sheer unfathomable rage. “They’re called Nomu, and they’re creations of the League Of Villains. Stain’s not working solo anymore.”

 

Rumi paused, and ran back over the info mentally, before cursing. “Shit. That makes this way more complicated. Anything else?”

 

“There's at least a dozen Nomu in the city. Two less now, but the situation isn’t great.”

 

Rumi scowled, glancing up at the arrival of Edgeshot’s sidekicks, and their intern, who were jogging from the alleys nearby… And Manual and his intern, the younger teen limping but alive, one arm in a sling, and his armor slashed .

 

As they neared, Rumi straightened up. ‘Right, as the highest ranking here I've got operational command. Shit.’

 

“Do we have any good news, Izuku?”

 

The armored teen slowed, and a… expectant look came over his face. Something akin to eagerness, if it was layered with sheer rage. “Yeah. I know who Stain’s real target is.” He glanced up, meeting red eyes with green. “Stain is after Endeavor.”

 

Rumi couldn’t help but feel a similar thrill of excitement rush through her.

 

“Do we have a location?”

 

“Wampa Market, just inside the north side of the shopping district.”

 

Miruko nodded, and glanced around, before reaching for her earpiece, tapping it she shifted to general-

 

Ow .

 

That was… not remotely usable.

 

“Fuck, everyone transfer to Priority 11.3. The main comms are a mess. Passcode Rumi-443.” As the rest of the heroes started fiddling with comms, Rumi took a breath and assessed.

 

“Right, here's the plan. Manual, take your intern and focus on triage and rescue. There’s plenty of injured nearby, and the gridlock is already getting fucked. Find ambulances and get them in here. Edgeshot’s boys, you’re officially on search and rescue. I know you two have mobility quirks get to using them-”

 

The taller of the two, with the face mask, stepped forwards even as Manual and Iida took off down the street. “We’re supposed to keep an eye on Earphone-”

 

“ Plans change. Until Edgeshot gets back to us, I’m Operational control. Jack’s gonna be with me and Revenant, we need someone to manage communications and neither of us are sensors.” 

 

Izuku nodded, and tilted his head, and Rumi caught the look of inspiration in his eyes.

“We need to separate out who’s on priority lines or nothing will get done. Rumi, can you grant Kyouka access to the priority overrides?”

 

That was a big ask, but Rumi was already on board. Having someone sort the communications out was needed, and Rumi knew how to delegate. “What do you think, Ears, you up for it?”

 

The girl took a breath, and nodded, setting her face in a determined expression, and pulling out her phone to adjust her earpiece system. “Will do.”

 

“Good.” She turned back, and paused, seeing Sai and Kunai still there. “Get fucking going you two, Manual and his kid are already gone!”

 

One last look, and Kunai threw a knife, one hand on Sai’s shoulder as the two vanished.

 

Rumi turned back to the two remaining teens. “Right, Let’s run and talk. Ears, Get on. You can’t keep up and I need to walk you through the authentications as is.”

 

The slender girl nodded and grabbed on, one arm around Rumi’s neck and her legs wrapped around the older woman's waist, her other hand out with the phone and the comm application open. It was good that Kyouka was small, it meant that Rumi didn’t need to adjust much for balancing, as she took off after Revenant.

 

The distant sound of another monster, a Nomu, as Izuku called them, rang out, and luckily for them… it was the same direction they needed to go.

 

Revenant was already ahead, that efficient run that ate up distance carrying him at the front of the chase, and Rumi could only grin as she followed, Jirou hanging on and following her instructions as she tapped away codes to enable her to override comms.

 

Ahead of her, Revenant glanced back, mask once more unfolded, and their private line opened. “Oh, and by the way, Miruko… I got that kill, so I’m at two to zero, aren’t I?”

 

…

Oh that little shit.

 

She let her own killing intent off the leash.

 

Just a bit.

---

Then

Izuku glanced around the corner, the last real passage heading into what the signs were calling ‘G.U.T.S’. 

 

As he got closer, he flinched.

 

Gunshots.

 

And not the muffled hiss of a handgun, the rapid fire of turrets.

 

Glancing around the corner, Izuku watched as a small horde of mimic corpses and a phantom passed by the open door… and into a wave of gunfire. In under a minute, the corridor was silent, and splatters of Typhon littered the floor.

 

Walking down the hall, he glanced around and took in the intersection. The G.U.T.S were past the turrets, great… but across from it, and directly in their line of fire.

 

A massive vault door into the Weavers cell.

 

With no obvious way to open it.

 

For a moment Izuku felt a wave of frustration surge. All that effort and he didn’t even get a chance to kill the fucking weaver. Goddamn it. Taking a breath, he forced his hands to unflex as he turned towards the corridor where the turrets were kept.

 

“Right… Let's hope they don’t shoot me.”

 

Pacing out around the corner, Izuku stepped through the hallway of gore and to the side of what was apparently another security checkpoint, a narrow gantry walk leading from the T-intersection from Psychotronics into G.U.T.S.

 

Breathing out, he held one hand out, and spoke up.

 

“Authentication Request.”

 

For a moment the sound of beeping, before the turrets let out an automated reply. 

 

“Request confirmed, present for scan.”

 

Good, that command was working.

 

Stepping out, Izuku kept his hands up, watching as two turrets tracked his movements, bright white scanning lights tracing over his form.

 

“No Typhon detected. Standing down.”

 

As the guns moved off line, reset to watch the hallway in general and no longer locked on him, Izuku breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Thank you.”

Stepping past them he looked back at the intersection, and at the sealed bulkhead that led into the containment cell…

SEALED

The word was bright red, and the barrier was locked tight. 

He would kill that weaver another day.

 

But for now…

 

Izuku stepped forwards, and into the G.U.T.S.

---

Now

Kamihara Shinya, known by most as the Pro Hero Edgeshot, ducked back, avoiding the lanky arm, covered in blunt spikes, as it slammed into and crushed the concrete of the sidewalk. The four-legged behemoth who he was facing was tall, nearly four meters from base to its eyeless head far above. And its arms, all six of them, were nearly as long as it was tall, multi-jointed, and mounted with layers of armor and spikes. Even as he watched, Enigma, one of the Heroes from Team Idaten rushed forwards, shifting into a black formless mass before reforming into a massive hulk with a white mask as they tried to bodily slam into the towering monster.

 

With a screech, the monster slammed back, and the two nearly took out the buildings nearby as they struggled.

 

Bigshot, one of the Idaten sidekicks, rushed past the fighting, leaping from point with bounding steps and carrying more civilians to safety.

Another clash of the towering beasts, and Shinya engaged his quirk, folding his arm into a narrow line of razor sharp focus as he zigzagged up and around, cutting into the surfaces of the buildings to pull himself around, before cutting back.

 

For a moment, his entire world was a narrow dogfight as he wound past and around the thrashing limbs of the monster and the bulk of the other Hero, cutting into limbs and scratching across bone plating, before he found a weak point.

 

A section of one limb where the armor had ripped free.

 

Bracing himself, he narrowed to the point where he was nano-metric, and twisted.

 

He didn’t call this move out loud like some of his attacks. It was one of several that he would never say, because it wasn’t to pander to the public.. 

 

‘Hundred fold Garrote.’

 

The feeling of slicing through flesh and blood was never… comfortable.

 

Bone was even worse.

 

With a flash, he shot past the now falling limb, the ruined stump flailing, leaking blood that looked almost… rancid, with an off-black color. As the monster rocked back in pain, Edgeshot raced past the fight so that Enigma could make contact, before he reshifted back to human catching himself on an awning as he glanced back.

 

The monster, now down to five limbs, was being pushed back, but not out. Bigshot was still clearing the area, but that wouldn’t matter if the beast started attacking the surrounding buildings, there were still civilians trapped in some places and rubble would make everything worse .

 

As Edgeshot readied himself for another pass, his earpiece began to beep, the sharp staccato beat of priority coming over the channels, overriding the rest of the chatter that had been driving him crazy.

 

And then, just as he was about to go for another strike, he paused.

 

Cause it wasn’t an external operator or one of the other top heroes on the line-

 

It was his intern.

 

“This is Ear Jacked, taking over communication on behalf of Miruko. All calls for medical help, Priority 4.3 is being cordoned for you, Heroes not engaged in combat should be focused on triage and search and rescue, and 4.2 is open for emergency responses. For heroes currently dealing with combat, this channel, Priority 4.1, is for you, here's the sit-rep!”

 

He dodged another chunk of rubbled and focused. Miruko? Where the hell were his sidekicks if his intern was with the number 7? Regardless, he listened in. He could get answers later.

 

“12 target Bioweapons created by the League Of Villains under the name Nomu were released in a 10 Kilometer radius around the Northern Hosu Clabburn shopping district. They are a priority threat! Each one is a B ranked threat, minimum, and will not hesitate to kill! All Heroes are authorized to use Lethal Force under Miruko’s authority! They are not human and will not stop! Two have been confirmed as incapacitated, the others are currently being engaged at the following locations. Combat Heroes are requested for assistance at-”

 

Edgeshot transformed, the feed distorted as he moved to avoid another limb, folding into a crooked line and emerging on the far side as it ripped down and shattered the awning he had been perched on. As he ducked around another limb, he looked for that grim focus he knew so well, and pushed his quirk thinner.

 

He didn’t like going for lethal force, but he was no stranger to the necessity.

 

‘Thousand Fold Severance’

 

With a flash, his narrow lines of self shot forwards and whipped up and around, leaving deep and bloody gouges around one of Nomu's knees, before piercing deep and scoring the bone and going up.

 

In seconds he ripped free, and left one of the legs open to the bone, from knee to hip, watching as the towering Nomu tried to adjust balance- just in time for Enigma to brace and tackled the monster to the ground.

 

As Shinya reformed, he shook the blood from his arm.

 

“-Multiple quirks! Be aware, the Nomu all possess multiple quirks Expect one major mutation and at least two supporting quirks!”

 

Shinya couldn’t help but tense, even as the towering Nomu shifted, thin lines opening up along its central torso… that began to spark.

 

“ENIGMA, DISENGAGE-”

 

His call came too late.

 

Lightning arced out, tracing lines across the black flesh and white mask of the giant hero, before they stumbled back, shrinking back into the slender form as Bigshot lept to the rescue, snagging her and pulling her from the fight as she flinched and twitched.

 

Edgeshot tensed, and shot forwards as a limb reached out and grasped the edge of a building, the giant Nomu attempting to pull itself back up.

 

‘Multiple quirks. What the hell, why can nothing ever go easy!’

 

He needed to end this, and fast.

---

Then

Izuku held still, sitting in the small workshop as an Engineering operator hovered around his torso. White scanners and small manipulator arms traced over the damaged patch of his suit, stitching material back together and pulling it tight before layering over it with a new seal to survive space. Izuku could only sit, eyes half closed, as he breathed through the pain as the new suit parts rubbed over his torn up skin.

 

Aside from that, he had recycled a good chunk of the scrap metal in the recycler nearby…

 

And started work at the computer terminal on some… much needed modifications.

 

He didn’t have the blueprints for the shotgun… But he had snagged one for the pistol. It had been in the armory, and he had palmed it for later perusal. And with the repair to his suit going on, he had opened the fabrication window on the computer, and started his modifications.

 

Most of it was basic, adjusting the firing mechanism’s design to be more sensitive, changing the clearance of the slide slightly, lengthening the barrel and silencer slightly for better accuracy, adjusting the grip to make it the right size for his slightly more slender hands… And a myriad of other incremental improvements, all guided by the memories of working them out piece by piece.

 

By the time the Engineer beeped and floated back, the modified design was mostly done, 3D image floating in the creation window. Next to it was also a design for an extended and reinforced magazine. Instead of 15, it could hold 25. The design could have possibly held 27, but he instead opted for a… different trick. At the bottom of each magazine, instead of the smooth bottom that the magazines currently had, he had designed a simple metal wedge, a simple way to… enhance its melee damage. 

 

He had more than one memory of being forced to hit a mimic with the butt of his gun, and if he still had to do that he wanted it to hurt this time.

 

With the gun and magazine redesign finished, Izuku closed the file and saved it to his transcribe.

 

Adjusting his freshly repaired suit, he glanced up.

“Thanks, operator.”

 

The engineer beeped and gave a slight bob, before turning to patrol the workshop.

 

And while it did that, Izuku headed out of the workshop, climbing up the stairwell and up onto the gantry over topl.

 

And the catwalk leading to the G.U.T.S.

 

At the end of the dull red metal walkway, a large square passageway… shimmered.

 

Beyond it, the artificial gravity was off. Even from just where he stood, he could see a corpse floating past the barrier.

 

He had seen something similar, when he left the station for the first time the airlock had shimmered as the gravity was disengaged, but looking at it here, seeing a clear… lack of gravity.

 

Izuku took a breath and paced back slightly.

 

“Right… Let’s get this over with.”

 

Reaching up, he triggered his helmet, the triangular panels unfolding to encircle his head. Flexing his hand he pulled the jet's manual controller into his off hand, the small handle clipping to his glove as he prepped. 

 

When he was ready he took a breath and sprinted towards the entrance, and with a ripple… he was soaring through and into zero gravity, short bursts of his jets helping him reorient as he landed on the far side, knees binding to take the impact before he touched the… ‘side’ of the corridor.

 

Twisting slightly, he glanced around.

 

He had… memories of this. Mostly from the ‘Movement’ Neuromod. This place was the Gravity Utility Tunnel System, a zero gravity corridor that ran up the spine of the station. It connected long term storage, the shipping and transport hub, and most of the various labs and research systems to each other, and transported material and supplies across the entire station. It was also the main utility corridor for each of the station’s parts, with power conduits, vents, and gas lines that ran for almost a full kilometer of vertical space.

 

And, with the elevator locked down, it was his best shot to reach the Arboretum, the highest point of the station… and where January wanted him to go.

 

With a deep breath, he steadied himself, and kicked off, floating up and onwards.

 

It was a long climb, and he expected complications.

 

There were always complications.

---

Now

Shoto felt… So cold.

 

He was entombed in the ice, layers upon layers stretching over his skin, his breath frosting in the air as he breathed, even as his torso aches with each ice cold breath he took.

 

He was… He was holding something in the ice.

 

Right?

 

The sound of cracking rang out and he blinked.

 

When had he closed his eyes?

 

What… What was he…

 

He blinked, eyes opening again, frost around his face cracking as he tried to look.

 

Something high pitched was… grinding near him.

 

He tried to focus, to push through the numbing cold and focus.

 

There, through the ice he was looking into, where his arm was entombed… Why was his arm in the ice?

 

It was holding him up…

 

He just… he just wanted to lay down.

 

He was so cold.

 

Why… why was the ice pink?

 

He needed to get warm.

 

His left arm flickered, and he nearly flinched.

 

Hot.

 

He wasn’t supposed to use his left… right?

 

The grinding sound just got louder.

 

He blinked.

 

Ahead of him, he could see… the ice cracking. Something was in the ice, why was the ice pink?

 

Someone was yelling?

 

“-ear the ar-”

 

The voice was familiar, who was it?

 

“-To? KID?”

 

Someone grabbed him, and his head… rocked back.

 

Pink ice and now green flames?

 

Huh.

 

Weird.

 

“...’rs nt spose be gre..?”

 

Heat engulfed him and he flinched back.

 

Hot. Why was it so hot?

 

His right arm was hot . And… wet?

 

Ice wasn’t supposed to be wet?

 

Suddenly he was being pulled from the ice, dragged back by green flame- Burnin. Burnin had green flames.

 

Bright orange flames pushed over them as he was dragged to the ground.

 

He was cold… but now the heat hurt.

 

He tried to curl into a ball, groaning in pain, even as Burnin- was it Burnin? They dragged him upright. He… he couldn’t think?

 

He was being carried, one arm around someone’s shoulders, he… he was being dragged?

 

“-lanky fucking kid!”

 

His head was so heavy… maybe if he looked-

 

Huh… that was a big fire… 

 

He…

 

He kinda wanted to sleep.

 

“STAY AWAKE KID”

 

The sudden force of a slap knocked some of the haze away, punching through the Numbness as Shoto blinked.

 

And suddenly he was… cognizant. Not great, but enough.

 

He finally managed to speak, shivering as his very teeth felt cold. “Sh… Shit.. Overdid it.”

 

“No Shit! We got the big fucker but you went goddamn hypothermic on us!” Burnin glanced at the big fire- the other monster, the one they had been facing. Reduced to a burning pile of flesh, the ground around it gouged and clawed, and also molten red .

 

The sound of ice shattering drew his attention back.

 

The glacier, now clearly showing an empty spot of melted ice where Burnin had to pull him free, was cracking, and the drill arm was punching out… right where he had been embedded. .

 

He could see the others too, Endeavor was ready for the fight, arms up and with his flames wreathing his form… but Shoto could see it. Long familiarly meant he could read his father’s shoulders and stance.

 

He was flagging. Overheating.

 

Shoto wasn’t sure what to do.

 

The numbness was there. Almost overwhelming, a welcoming embrace of ‘sleep’. 

 

Grimacing, Burnin finally reached a side alley, out of the way of combat, and let him slump to the ground, back to the alley wall as she knelt in front of him.

 

“Shit, kid. You really fucked yourself up.”

 

He followed her line of sight down to his right arm, taking in the way his skin was… blisters. Patches of his skin discolored with blue-black flecks.

 

Breathing deep, he knew what he had to do.

 

“I…need something to bite on.”

 

“Right.” Burnin caught on, and gave a look of pity, before ripping a strip from her sleeve, folding it into a tight bundle and handing it over.

 

“Go, help father.”

 

For a moment, she hesitated, before nodding and taking off.

 

The screams of the monster finally breaking free echoed, matched by the roaring of fire.

 

Shoto had his own enemy to face.

 

Biting down on the bundle of cloth,  Shoto leaned back against the wall, and held his right arm in his left hand.

 

And then he drew on his father’s quirk and heat beget pain.

Chapter 55: Triage

Now
Stain cursed as he drew thread across the gash in his torso, armor stripped to the waist as he moved with a single-minded focus, ignoring the splattering of blood that dripped with each tug of thread. Even as he stitched up his gut, Kurogiri was leaning over his shoulder, smoke seeping into the gunshot wound in his shoulder, slowly pulling bullet shards free, dropping from a warp cloud into a glass that was slowly filling with blood and shrapnel.

 

Shigaraki paced the length of the bar, eye half closed even as he contemplated the changing situation, the bar’s screens showing the news reporting even as the chaos in Hosu raged, aerial views from helicopters swinging wide.

 

“Doctor, Sugoh. How goes the Nomu?”

 

Doctor Garaki looked up from his console towards the screen, glasses glinting in with the reflected screen. “We’ve suffered expected losses. Three Nomu have been eliminated, and several more have suffered severe damage.”

 

“And the Optical Nerve Transmitters? Have you received their downloads?”

 

Sugoh glanced up from his own console. “We have. The compressed files have arrived, it should only take a few minutes to begin converting them into visual files.”

 

Tomura nodded and paced once more, his eye closing as he hummed to himself. A soft tone, one that he had been picking up once more, somewhat mournful… but it put him in the right mind set.

 

‘What is your next move…. How will you respond, what should I anticipate.’

 

As he considered the variables, he glanced up.

 

“Sugoh, map out the Nomu, will you?”

 

One of the screens shifted to a line map of the conflict zone, each Nomu marked with a red skull, and the Trigger ones with black cross behind them. 

 

But three of them were crossed out with red X marks.

 

Two were on the south eastern edge of the ‘Ring’ that had been designed to circle Endeavor, another one of the Trigger-enhanced Nomu from the center positions.

 

But… They were grouping. Two from the northern edge of the ring had already grouped up, cutting a bloody swath towards the eastern edge, following along a major street. “What Nomu were deployed to the north side.”

 

“That would be… Scorpion and the Tyrant. They’re in a running battle with, oh that’s interesting. It’s Ingnenium’s father, Impulse. He seems to be leading them away from civilians… towards where we dropped Column.”

 

Shigaraki glanced at the line up and couldn’t help a smile.

 

That would be a perfect distraction. A fight against three Nomu? Few heroes would be able to contain such a force.

 

“Good. Stain, how long?”

 

The killer grunted, hands pulling another stitch tight. “Two minutes and I can go after that faker.”

 

Shigaraki nodded…. “You’ve got five. Get your stuff in order. You have some time.”

 

Reaching up he pressed his earpiece.

 

“How's Endeavor doing?”

 

“You know what? Not great. He’s hitting his threshold, and he’s tiring.” The other new recruit chuckled into the receiver. “Your Nomu isn’t going to last long though. If you want to deliver, you should hurry up.”

 

Shigaraki nodded, glancing around.

 

Soon, the finale of the League Of Villains’ true debut would commence.

---

Then

Izuku pushed off from another wall, grimacing as another cystoid, one of the dozens of tiny radioactive , Explosive, Typhon.

 

Glancing back as the cystoid slammed into one of the bulkheads and disintegrated into a pile of radioactive dust, Izuku pushed away to stay clear of the area, letting the material burn itself out.

 

That was the last of the current cystoid groups. They lurked in balloon-like nests that grew in corners of the area. The fact the G.U.T.S. was a Zero-Gravity area only made it worse. Because setting one Cystoid nest off tended to be a chain reaction to set all of the nearby nests off.

 

He had gotten good at hitting small erratically moving targets.

 

That still didn’t stop him from getting caught by the edges of several cystoid explosions.

As he drifted towards another shimmering gravity door, he slowed and caught onto a support strut, giving one more glance around before kicking off at the door.

 

As he passed through, the wave of gravity kicked in- and he scrambled to adjust before slamming onto the floor back-first.

 

‘Right, double check orientation next time.’

 

Grimacing, he stood up from the floor and brushed the ash and dust from his suit.

 

“Right.” He glanced around and got his bearings. A fenced storage area to one side, and a maintenance hallway leading ahead. Already Izuku could make out labels on sealed crates and read through them. Seeds, fertilizers, nutrient mixes… 

 

Izuku slowed down and read those a second time. That… was gardening supplies.

 

Pausing, he reached up and tapped his helmet's control, the panels folding back out of the way as Izuku glanced around and took a deep breath.

 

It… was different. The air was different… texture. A faint smell that was almost like earth. Something that was close to the scents of the forests near Musafasu, but… shallow. There was the scent of dirt and plants, but none of the deeper layers that Izuku could remember.

 

Right. The simulation.

 

Maybe it… couldn’t simulate the scents of plants? Not accurately? 

 

He hadn’t noticed it in Slender or Freddies, but the change from ‘Sterile Space Stations’ to ‘Simulated Plant Life’ put things into sudden contrast. And It was distinctly lacking what he expected… What he wanted.

 

Taking a deep breath, Izuku held back the sudden longing for… sitting outside. Near trees. Dealing with the itch of pollen and the bites of bugs.

 

Shaking his head, Izuku double checked his belt and counted his supplies, before exhaling sharply and turning towards the doors.

 

“Right. To the Arboretum.”

 

Of course, as he opened the next door he was faced with a Phantom.

 

‘Of fucking course.’

---

Now

Miruko glanced around as they cleared another street. The crowds across Hosu had started to panic, running from the locations of the fights… but still not leaving the district. But as they cleared the last stragglers of the crowd, Miruko saw the signs they were close. 

 

The people they were passing were in shock, with blood splatters and ruined clothes.

 

On her back she felt Ear Jacked’s voice hitch, but she kept talking, kept running organization over the comms.

 

Miruko can’t help but approve of that. ‘That’s damn impressive composure girl. Keep it up.’

 

Even so, she moved faster through the area, trying to spare her passenger the sight ahead.

 

Because there were plenty of injuries.

 

Blood and wounds, the cries of hurt and wounded as a squad of paramedics worked to address injuries….

 

Crying people, some of whom were still shouting for family members. For friends.

 

From the corner of her eye, Miruko saw several still forms, covered with sheets.

 

‘That’s a triage station. Two Ambulances and a bunch of civilians… That means the fight should be-’

 

A screeching roar echoed out, and Miruko altered course, falling in just behind Revenant, who was already sprinting for the sound.

 

Ahead of them was the cause of all this, and Rumi was getting pissed.

 

They cleared a barricade of several cars at an intersection, sliding to a stop as they looked down the street-

 

And saw it.

 

A praying mantis looking Nomu was skittering along across the storefronts, two long scythe-like blades instead of hands, with a form composed of twisted black chiton. But the true horror was that the street was covered in blood and bodies.

 

And among that blood was several colorful costumes of heroes.

 

At a glance Miruko could identify two of them.

 

London Wolf, the bright British flag design of his costume and the wolf-mutation quirk’s torso shredded, left to hang over the side of a truck. Deadstop, the hazard orange of his costume still vibrant and distracting… even as it was scattered across the ground… chunks of his body left in the uniform across the ground.

 

There were still two heroes standing, but they were on their last legs. Miruko shrugged Ear Jacked to the ground, even as Revenant rushed forwards to engage.

 

But as she did, the intern grabbed her shoulder, making her turn. Rumi was ready to curse at the girl, before she noticed the look of horrified recognition on the girl's face.

 

“That’s from the USJ. Izuku killed it!”

 

Rumi fought down the urge to swear.

 

But there was no time.

 

“Stay on the line! Keep the Comms running, we’ll deal with it.”

 

Turning, she sprinted after Revenant.

 

As they got closer, one of the two heroes went down, blood spraying from her shoulder and back as a scythe got past her guard- 

 

“MARI!”

 

The other, a cat-themed hero, turned to attend, and the Nomu lunged to complete the job-

 

Revenant got there first.

 

His sword flashed up and slammed into the blades, parrying them to the side even as he riposted, blade slashing out at its torso, the surface a cracked pattern of calificed armor. Scars from a previous fight. Scars from when it was shot by a teenage girl with a rifle.

 

The Nomu, the prototype for the Hunter class, reared back, bleeding from the fresh slash across its chest- the blood already dark and solidifying as it screeched- in recognition and rage.

 

Then Miruko reached it, and jump-kicked it across the street.

 

As it crashed into a car, Revenant unhooked his medical kit pack from his gear and tossed it to the cat-hero. “Bandage her up and get out! Triage is just around the corner.”

 

Miruko however was already chasing after the mantis Nomu, not letting it recover from the kick.

 

Twisting under a flashing scythe, she kicked up, slamming her heel into its arm and sending it staggering back-

 

And like a monochrome echo, Revenant flickered past her, swords slamming around and parrying the next strike.

 

Miruko leapt over the follow-up strike, even as Revenant swayed the other way, letting the two scythes swing between them, carving into the asphalt-

 

-Miruko slammed the heel of her foot into the blade, shattering it-

 

-Revenant’s sword flickered out, severing the other arm at the elbow- 

 

-Mikruko pivoted, crushing one of its knees with a sickening crunch-

 

-Revenant spun around the far side, black blood splattering as he swung up at the head, barely missing as the Nomu twisted, its ruined arm raising to take the blade-

 

-Miruko pushed up , and twisted- 

 

-Revenant swung low and spun, his sword gripped in both hands-

“Kaguya Crescent!”

 

“Sever.”

 

And between those two strikes, the Nomu didn’t have a chance.

 

The head snapped, neck contorted as the horned and chitinous head snapped to the side under the force of Miruko’s foot.

 

And then Revenant’s blade met its torso from the other side- and cleaved through its waist. Chitinous plates and guts alike proving no match for the force of Blight-killer’s edge.

 

With a grunt, Miruko landed, and Revenant stepped back, leaving the bisected and destroyed body of the Nomu to collapse.

 

Miruko shook out her foot, flexing as she tested that she didn’t break anything on the Nomu’s hard as hell head. “Jacked say’s you dealt with this one before?”

 

Revenant nodded, and pulled a small metal cylinder from his pocket.

 

“Yes. At the USJ.”

 

As Miruko watched, Izuku struck the end of the stake on the ground and insight it in a glare of magnesium white-

 

“And I don’t want it to come back again.”

 

With that. he tossed it on the body, leaving it to burn through the torso’s chest cavity.

 

Footsteps got their attention, and Jirou came jogging up, face panicked and frustrated, Izuku’s medical kit closed and in her hand, the other two heroes were nowhere to be seen.

 

“We’re going to need to swing farther east before we get to Endeavor, he’ll have to hold out longer because we have a problem! Impulse is being chased by two Nomu, and Edgeshot is in his path with his own fight, and he’s not responding to the comms! If he gets surprised by two more Nomu, we’re gonna have even more dead heroes.”

Miruko cursed, but Revenant was already focused- on a nearby truck? The windows were all shattered, but the car looked mostly intact.

 

“Miruko, what’s the ruling for borrowing cars in emergencies?”

 

Rumi paused and grinned. “I’ll take the flak. Can you drive?”

 

Revenant was already heading for the driver side door.

 

“Not legally, but yes.”

 

Miruko considered for a second just how much paperwork was going to be needed after this.

 

‘ Eh, I have a secretary for a reason. I’ll give them a good bonus after this.’

 

As Revenant ripped open the dashboard’s wiring, Jirou got in the passenger side and Miruko hopped into the truck bed.

 

She did hear their conversation however. “Are… Are you hotwiring the truck?”

 

“It’s a useful life skill.”

 

With a roar, the engine sparked to life.

Revenant glanced back out of the window at Miruko. “Hold tight.”

 

Tires squealed as the truck lurched into action, and they took off.

 

Behind them, the remains of the Hunter Nomu burned, left among the blood of its victims.

---

Then

Izuku ducked around a crate, dodging as a mimic leapt past- but with a click the last of his magazines slammed home and he raised his handgun and nailed it before it could reorient on him. A second shot to make sure it stayed down, and Izuku twisted back around the corner, putting another two into the last Mimic before it could close the distance from where it was creeping over another crate.

 

As the last gunshot echoed away, he took a moment to look around.

 

The remains of the first phantom had been left by the door, but a second had descended from a catwalk leading up from where he stood, the various crates and storage units marking the area as some form of loading dock for the arboretum above.

 

And then of course there were the five mimics.

 

Izuku exhaled and pulled out the empty magazines and his box of loose ammo, and vaulted to sit on one of the crates, keeping an angle where he could see all the doors and exits as he started on reloading. 

 

Click. Click. Click. 

 

As each bullet slid home, he focused on the task.

 

January needed him to reach Deep Storage, which should be just off of the Arboretum. From there, he needed to find the code for an arming key, which, if what January had said was right, was part of setting up Talos 1 for destruction.

 

He also needed Alex Yu’s key.

 

Which… was a problem for later.

 

Grimacing, he slid the last bullet home as he considered just how much more stuff he likely had to do.

 

Speaking of…

Izuku pulled out his transcribe to check his status.

 

Neurological Integrity: 91.12% 

 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Almost four hours to recover almost a quarter of his stability, including being attended to by a medical operator and working to reintegrate the memories… despite the pain.

 

Not the worst recovery time.

 

Pausing, he actually considers that. How long has he been in Prey? Almost six hours?

 

Taking a breath he gathers his spare bullets and newly refilled magazines before giving another look around. The loading dock is too open, but… turning he headed back down the hallway towards the gravity gate. He had just cleared that area out, and there was that alcove where he could sit for a minute.

 

Pulling out the injector, he looked over the Neuromods he hadn’t used yet.

 

IM-11-Modifier

IM-5-Computer

IM-1-Medical .

 

Sighing he considered. Modifier was the mystery option, Computer would likely be part of the security/hacking route, and Medical was… Well, survivability.

 

Yeah. Survivability is fairly high on his list of life skills to maintain.

 

Izuku grimaced and chose Medical, sliding it into his injector as he sat back to the wall and took a slow breath.

 

“Right.” With familiar motions, he lined the injector up. “Hopefully this one doesn’t hurt.”

 

And with a pull of the trigger- two needles slid home once more.

---

Now

Tenya grimaced as he helped lift another chunk of rubble from the roadway, his left arm still bound tightly, the armor of his heroic outfit pulled apart around a pressure bandage that the ambulance medics had given him after resetting his arm.

 

What was worse, and hurt more, than the shallow cut along his side or the joint where his arm had been relocated, was the road burn that stretched across his skin wherever his armor hadn’t been protective enough. His knees and elbows, his shoulders, his hips and legs. Everywhere his armor hadn’t been able to take the hit or had been destroyed, his skin was covered in abrasive wounds.

 

And without the adrenaline rush from the fight, he was constantly aware of the pain and tension.

With a grunt, he managed to slide the ruined car out of the way, and stepped aside as the pair of ambulances navigated their way through the chaos. As he stood there, he stretched slightly and tried to calm himself. 

 

Tried to ignore the scent of blood that just…. wasn’t leaving. He and Manual hadn’t actually spent much time in the cleared areas where the Nomu had been killed, but even then he had seen enough.

 

The first time he and Manual had moved through where he had faced down a Nomu, Iida had been forced to step aside and empty his stomach, bile and the remains of what he had for breakfast being… 

 

“Right, that should let the ambulances to the southern casualties. Tenya! We’re heading towards the west fighting areas!”

 

“Yes!” Pushing up from where he had leaned on a damaged car, Tenya started jogging after Manual.

 

“With luck, Crust should be finished with his fight before we get there, but be ready for a fight if you must!”

---

Then

Izuku wasn’t exactly sure… what he expected from the Medical Neuromod.

 

Part of him thought it would be theoretical, book knowledge.

 

It wasn’t.

 

‘Needle and thread slid through skin as he breathed out, trying to keep his hands steady as he stitched the wound closed-’

 

It was practical.

 

‘Tapping a needle to clear it of bubbles, Izuku stared down at the strapped down form. “Hold on, this is going to hurt.” ‘

 

Izuku flashed through memories of giving medical treatment, but unlike the Toughness Neuromo, all of it was… detached . It lacked the same ache of pain and injury that he had remembered from the Toughness, lacked the layers of pain and physical torment…

And instead focused on the responses. On the cold logic of triage.

Stitching wounds, braces for broken limbs, resetting joints and wrapping sprains, all tucked between fragments of… knowledge.

 

The amount of painkillers that would numb an injury. Chemical formulas for sealing wounds or sanitizing areas. A variety of chemical formula for dozens of minor applications-

 

The location of every major vein and artery.

 

The signs of gut wounds. Of organ failure. Of internal bleeding.

 

All… juxtaposed against his memories of pain.

 

As the needle snapped back into the Injector, Izuku leaned back, blinking away the drop of blood- minor puncture wound. Should be sealed in moments. Cold compress would lessen potential swelling.

 

Pushing up, he winced at the pull of his suit over the rash of the scabbed up wounds from the Etheric Phantom- ‘should clean. Disinfectant and a wound gel, keep the scabs from binding to suit a second time.’

 

Breathing out, Izuku pushed back the thoughts of treatment, and pulled back out his Transcribe.

 

Neurological Integrity: 85.92% 

 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Huh. Izuku bit his lip, before finching and letting go, a flash of memory of stitching his lip back together sliding to the forethought of his mind.

 

‘Note taken, no more biting the lip,’

 

Taking a moment to consider, Izuku reached back down and ejected the empty vial from the injector… and pulled out one of the others.

 

IM-5-Computer

 

Breathing deep, he raised the injector once more.

---

Now

Edgeshot dodged around another crashing limb, lightning spilling and arcing along cars and street lamps, blowing out windows and lights, even as he picked up a stunned Enigma, before throwing them clear of the limb's sweeping range. 

 

Bigshot darted past at speed, using his kinetic energy quirk to build up speed and energy- and slammed into the torso of the towering Nomu, sending it staggering back even as Bigshot was rebounded back across the street.

 

The Nomu was down three of six arms, and was now permanently slumped, one leg and thigh shredded and leaving it stuck in one place.

 

Grimacing as the lightning finally faded, and Enigma shook themselves back awake, even as Bigshot slammed back to the ground near them.

 

“We’ve got it pinned, we just need to knock it down to the ground!”

 

Enigma grimaced, and stumbled, even as they glanced back at the Nomu, watching as its ‘lightning’ folds recessed.

 

“I’ve got it, but keep him pinned.”

 

Bigshot nodded, and Edgeshot gave a solemn nod.

 

But even as they turned and headed back to Nomu, he couldn’t help but burn her expression into his memory. Narrowed eyes, bloodied lips and nose, the signs of her close calls with electrical currents. And the white-knuckled grip she had, her hands so tight that the palms bled.

 

Shinya had been a professional hero for almost fifteen years, and had seen dozens of other heroes make the decision to Do or Die.

 

And far too many ended up on the ‘Die’ side.

Tightening up his stance, he felt out his quirk, the layered ‘folds’ of his body as he selected new lines and more focused edges, folding around the injuries and bruises that some of his body had.

 

He needed to clear this up, now. He didn’t even know what was happening elsewhere, the electrical current had blown out his earpiece, as well as the earpieces of the rest of his makeshift team.

 

The three of them launched into another assault, Bigshot bouncing around the left while Edgeshot slid right and turned into a single line of folded edge , darting around cars and debris before cutting into and around a store front, using it as an anchor point before he slashed out-

 

The Nomu swung out and smashed the storefront-

 

And Bigshot bounced at it from the far side, sending it staggering even as Edgeshot was forced to reform into human to avoid getting caught in a collapsing lightposts line-

 

Glancing back around, he gritted his teeth and reformed into a razor and shot out-

 

The Nomu screeched, its arm going limp as layered razors shredded the muscles up through the armpit, before punching out the shoulder-

 

And then Enigma slammed into it, back once more into her monstrous form.

 

With a screech of rage, pain, and surprise, it slammed into the street-

 

And then Enigma was pinning it, fists raising and slamming down again and again, black flesh rippling as she let out an inhuman roar of focus-

 

Edgeshot reformed, grimacing as he felt his arm- dislocated, and the lower edge of his arm was screaming in pain. ‘Crush damage, fuck.’ folding his arm back away took the edge off, but he was down a working limb.

 

Passing through the joint had been the right call- but it had still caught him between the nub of bone and collar, and the bone had crumpled his razor form.

 

He glanced up, watching as with a final blow, the chest of the Nomu caved in, blood splattering the ground, before wincing as his arm screamed in pain.

 

Enigma rose and screamed in victory-

 

Bigshot began to yell in warning-

 

Edgeshot blinked through the pain focusing on the fight, and froze, fear and panic rushing up his spine-

 

And along the Nomu’s sides and remaining limbs, the lightning organs reached fully open once more.

 

A final flash of lightning highlighted a triumphant Enigma and a leaping Bigshot.

---

Then

Izuku blinked as the last memories of coding and computer data faded, the lines of code now burned into his mind… and nestled alongside his memories of hacking and security work.

 

Blinking blood from his eyes, he wiped the red tear away and ejected the empty cartridge.

 

Neurological Integrity: 77.55% 

 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Huh. Stability has stayed high. Maybe…. Is it because of the other neuromods? Toughness already showed the damage, Medical just showed the treatment. And the Security neuromod showed lots of things that the Computer neuromod connected to, so they may have already been partially integrated memories? Something to keep in mind.

 

Pushing up from his seat, Izuku stored the ‘Modifier’ vial and the injector back into his suit. 

 

Picking up his shotgun from where he had it resting on the ground, he gave one last check to his ammo, made sure everything was fully loaded and easy to reach, and started back towards the Arboretum.

 

As he got closer, the artificial scents got stronger, and Izuku was once more struck by how close yet off the scents were.

 

The way most of the scents were… The various metal devices, the scent of ozone from electrical discharge, the scent of smoke… Those were close enough that he could ignore the differences.

 

But living things smelled so much more complex. The scents of the monsters… of the bodies… of the rot.

 

Those were what the simulation had perfect.

 

Izuku reached the platform and reached out, eyes glancing at the door control-

 

SCHHHRREEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHH

 

The slam of something massive caved the doors out, destroying the mechanism, and nearly knocking Izuku back and off his feet, shotgun raised as he slammed into the railing.

 

Through the viewport in the door, cracked and small as it was, Izuku could see it.

 

Humanoid, but massive, with talons and long limbs.

 

“What the Fuck .”

 

His earpiece beeped, and January chimed in.

 

“A Nightmare. They vanish and reappear throughout the station, but I wasn’t expecting one in the Arboretum. They can’t manifest for long, you can wait them out, but be careful. They’ve killed you before.”

 

As always, January closed the connection before Izuku could get a response in, and the teen slumped, hand pressed on his neck as he waited for his heart rate to lower.

 

But his mind was racing.

 

‘Manifest? Does that mean they can… spawn? Or Generate? What conditions do they need? Mass? Some sort of relay? Or is it just… random. Or even directed.’

 

Izuku scowled as he looked back up, and glanced around, locking onto the maintenance hatches that led into the environmental system.

 

If the Typhon could… respawn.

 

Then nowhere that wasn’t actively guarded and watched, was safe anymore.

---

Now

The downed communications had been the sign that things had gone terribly fucking wrong.

 

Izuku had been turning the entire situation over and over in his mind, a virtual map of the district, twisting and turning like a puzzle box as he listened to the alerts and updates from across the city. Nomu engaged at- slide the piece along the puzzle, watch it unravel with the rest. Ambulance needed at- press down, twist.

 

But for every motion he made to solve the puzzle, another moved against him.

 

Shigaraki was playing this game too.

 

So when Jirou said she couldn’t contact Edgeshot, even as he was about to be in a far more dangerous fight, Izuku knew it wasn’t an accident.

 

‘Edgeshot. Number 5 in the rankings.’

 

A priority target.

 

But while the communications being down was a sign things were going wrong, the lightning surge is what showed that Izuku was late.

 

The truck engine roared, Izuku laying on the horn as he reached a corner and skidded around, feeling the back wheels of the truck lose traction and fishtail, before catching and sending them racing towards the flash of light.

He had seen the aftershock, had caught sight of the wave of static racing across the street at his destination, blowing out lamps, frying street signs, and shattering windows and electronics, he felt the clench of his chest.

 

‘Too late.’

 

He put on the speed, the truck all but flying as he wove around abandoned, and now smoking, cars, rocketing forwards and sliding round the corner where he slammed on the brakes and twisted into a drift. He was in park and out of the driver’s side door before the car even came to a full stop, already pulling his medical kit from his side and sprinting forwards.

 

And what he sprinted into was the aftermath of a warzone.

 

The very walls of the street were charred, massive black scorch marks sprawling across asphalt and up and across the brick and paint of the buildings around them. Loose material, from stacks of paper and various debris, to even the trees on the side of the street were smoldering, flash fried from the electrical strike, and that same strike had blown out every electronic nearby. Screens were cracked and distorted, lights shattered and sprawled across the street, voltage cables snapped and sparking nearby where the current had blown through their insulation.

 

At the center, the smoking and blackened mass of the Nomu was barely recognizable, the skin carbonized and cracked.

 

But Izuku pushed past all of that, and slid to a stop next to two limp figures by Nomu's side.

 

One of them was already dead. Izuku mentally flipped through his memories of sidekicks, and identified the corpse.

 

Bigshot, Kinetic Battery quirk, he could absorb energy into his mass and release it later. He had joked in an interview years ago that his ‘extra mass’ from being a bigger guy helped him hold more kinetic energy. 

 

But now…

 

Izuku turned away from the smoking corpse, seeing the way parts of his body had… popped, for lack of a better word, and focused back on Enigma.

 

The petite woman wasn’t in her ‘monsterous’ form, but Izuku was expecting that. He had noted that she had a form of damage mitigation down back when she was still sidekicking with the Idaten agency; the damage from her transformation didn’t transfer back the same way.

 

She was still electrocuted though, and that left damage. Across her skin, blistering lines stretched out, lichtenberg scars that Izuku would expect to scar, her hair was charred at the end and half her clothes were black and smoking. But the most important part was that her heart wasn’t beating right.

 

Izuku could practically hear it, could see the way her body was twitching and shifting, and ignored the cursing as Miruko finally reached his side, Jirou close behind.

 

Arrhythmia from electrical shock. Fuck.

 

That she wasn’t already dead was amazing, but that also meant that he had no time for the nice treatment.

 

Reaching down, he felt across her chest, double checking her heartbeat with his bare fingers even as he glanced up at the staggering form of Edgeshot as he stumbled from behind a car, outfit covered in similar scorch marks, but still intact. Judging by the shattered windows, it looked like the pro had gotten into the car, using it and the rubber tires as a faraday cage for the electrical surge and an insulator from the worst of the current.

 

“JIROU! AMBULANCE NOW! TELL THEM IT'S A SHOCK-INDUCED ARRHYTHMIA!”

 

He turned back even as Jirou started contacting the medical line, and Edgeshot got close, falling to his knees as he reached out.

“What do you need?”

Izuku glanced and ran through his mental notes on medical response.

 

“Chest compressions. Her heart is beating wrong and it’s disrupting blood flow. Twenty compressions, and don’t worry about breathing for her, she’s breathing as it is, but keep an eye on her.” Edgshot nodded, getting into position, and Izuku rested his hand on the Pro’s dislocated arm. “Hold on so I can set this.”

 

It takes a moment, but Edgeshot glanced up and nodded, hissing in pain as he reformed the folded bundle at the end of his shoulder into an actual arm again..

 

Izuku made eye contact, and let his mask recede.

 

“Two more Nomu are incoming. Whatever you do, don’t stop the compressions.”

 

“But-”

 

Izuku clenched his hand and gave a shove, relocating the shoulder and making Edgeshot double over and gasp in pain.. “Keep her alive. We’ll get the others.”

 

A long moment, and Edgeshot gave a shaky nod.

 

“Jirou, keep him company. Alternate compression and remember to keep the beat steady. If the heart starts beating with regular patterns, keep track of them. Miruko, we’ve got incoming nomu in under a minute.”

 

As the rabbit heroine nodded, Izuku reached into his cloak and pulled his shotgun free from where it was clasped to his armor.

 

How many? How many have we lost? Civilians, heroes… How many more will be dead by the end of today.

 

Izuku was so goddamn angry. So goddamn frustrated. It was a sensation that he knew inside and out, an itch that wouldn’t leave as it burrowed into his skin, his head, his heart. The idea that he was fucking up. That he was not good enough.  

 

Fuck it, time to stop playing nice.

 

As Miruko started jogging for the next street, where intercity highway cut past them, Izuku racked the slide of his shotgun quickly, ejecting the few remaining purple shells from the chamber with each pump and snagging them in his right hand, before reaching down and clicking them into a holder on his belt. As he walked out into the street with Miruko, he assessed the area, taking in sight lines and cover.

 

Already the crowds were dispersed, the electrical explosion having scared off any civilians who hadn’t listened to evacuation orders or the police force as they called for shelter in place and evacuation. The street itself was nearly empty, only a few cars screeching past, panicked drivers desperately trying to escape the chase, the distant sight of… movement coming south down the street towards them, the distant sounds of chaos dopplering his way. 

 

And with the screeching of Nomu, there were also the sirens of police cars.

 

Apparently Impulse had some help in keeping Nomu distracted.

 

Izuku pulled the shells he had been keeping… just in case.

 

Eight of each, a full ‘tube’ for each type.

 

One was buckshot, each round marked with the classic red color, and a single black stripe around the center. He had picked them up for Stain, a method that wouldn’t be quite so lethal as his other options, but that could still put the murderer down if nessacary.

 

The other option was the rounds he was sure could have used to put Stain down.

 

12 gauge magnum slugs, covered in a black casing with a red ring..

 

Izuku had fabricated them himself, away from Power-Loader’s prying eyes, as a last resort. The teacher had begrudgingly accepted the buckshot as a ‘serious’ response for dangerous engagements when Izuku had been talking about gear specifications, and even approved a single clip of ‘live’ 9MM ammo for intense combat, but Izuku hadn’t mentioned the magnum slugs.

 

They were, after all, flat-out illegal in Japan, even with the exemptions and accommodations he had gotten through UA. The buckshot was frowned upon, but accepted.

 

In comparison to the pressurized ‘Lockdown’ foam rounds, there was a weight that was comforting with the magnum rounds, as he slid them in, each round making a soft, but oh so satisfying click.

 

Izuku took a breath…

 

And then the mask unfolded once more.

 

Ahead of him, Revenant could make out the worn and ragged form of Impulse, in the distance the aging pro darted around and between the pair of police cruisers as they approached, kicking out and attacking the monstrous nomu at speed to keep them behind the cars.

 

Much like Iida, and the former Ingenium, the older man was dressed in a suit of armor styled with similar themes to a chromed sports car, with exhaust billowing from his torso, venting through his white armor to leave a trail, and the roar of an engine echoing around him. 

 

‘Huh. his engines sound much rougher than his son. Age perhaps?’

 

Revenant folded that thought away and started moving. Picking up speed as he slid the last shell into the shotgun, Miruko at his side as she began to bounce with, and then past him.

 

Ahead of him, he angled for a car at the side of the road, clearly abandoned, while Miruko went wide to the other side.

 

With a screeching sound, the doppler effect of the sirens drawing Nomu after them, the cop cars shot between them, now close enough Izuku could see the ripped up body work and damaged rear halves where close calls with the Nomu had left their marks.

 

And, as Impulse slid through a gap between two abandoned cars-

 

-Izuku used one as a ramp and ran up and leapt-

 

The pull of the trigger felt oh so sweet as the familiar recoil of the shotgun pressed into his shoulder.

 

CRACK

 

The first Nomu to reach him was met with a chunk of metal going faster than the speed of sound into its knee, sending it stumbling forwards-

 

And then Izuku slammed into its chest feet first, Miruko darted past him at the second of the Nomu. as Manual and the cop cars screeched to a halt behind them.

 

And then it was the chaos of a fight.

---

Then

Izuku didn’t realize how much he truly missed seeing green until he pulled himself out of the maintenance tunnel.

 

The Arboretum wasn’t just a small garden, or a bunch of planters. It was an entire self contained ecosystem of plants held in what was likely the largest open area of the station, a massive domed structure that stretched up and around the garden with reinforced shimmering glass that stared out into space in all directions.

 

It was even sculpted with what looked like natural rock formations, giving a sense of… nature, to the area. Boulders, short cliffs… There were even several trees growing in the dome, breaking up the appearance of the area.

 

That wasn’t to say that the entire area was devoid of artificial structures. There were several larger buildings standing freely, perched on the upper levels of the area. Stone staircases and cleared gravel pathways traced through the gardens, and down below there were doors and passages designed to look ‘built into’ the rock walls, with paved walkways leading around the central area.

 

And speaking of the central area-

 

On top of the center pillar of stonework, there was a modern looking structure… that almost reminded Izuku of a modernist Japanese house, all classic ‘look’ but with a modern ‘minimalist’ edge.

 

It screamed… wealth. Prestige. A location above a garden floating in space? Where could you show off more prestige?

 

And something in Izuku told him that that was where he was going to find Alex Yu. 

 

Izuku cleared another small workstation, and glanced around as he stepped out onto the paved walkways- and saw another turret.

 

Waving to it, it tracked him for a long second before beeping and resuming its scanning of the area.

 

A few seconds later, however, the newly marked ‘T-10’ beeped as it linked to his transcribe. 

 

Izuku adjusted its position so it had better sightlines, and glanced around.

 

There were signs around, and he found one for the elevator…

 

Which, if he was right, was the same elevator that led back down to the main lobby.

 

If he could clear it, having an express line back to ‘Safe’ would be a nice thing.

 

Adjusting the shotgun to the ready, he headed for it, sticking to the natural ‘edges’ of the environment and keeping his head on a swivel.

 

Reaching the edge of the hallway towards the elevator, he paused.

 

Someone had apparently decided that this was supposed to be a water-themed section.

 

The walls of the short hallway looked like aquariums, brightly colored fish and plants floating and swaying in artificial currents as they darted around, the lights above off and leaving the walkway only lit by the cold reflected light of the aquariums themselves, giving the hallway an ethereal, shifting look.

 

Izuku already could feel the swaying light effect driving his paranoia up.

 

Bracing himself, he pushed through the hallway, descending several minor steps as the hallway dipped and then leveled out.

 

Ahead of him, he could see the double sliding doors of the elevator, and before them were another pair of turrets, both locking onto Izuku before beeping and resuming their scans.

 

Izuku was already mentally calling them T-11 and T-12.

 

‘Is it codependency if you program them for it?’

 

Shoving that lovely thought away into his mental box of ‘Not now’, he moved past the two turrets and glanced around.

 

What was keeping the elevator from working .

 

He reached out and tapped the controls, and got the same message that he had seen downstairs. 

 

Elevator stuck

 

Glancing around Izuku looked for a maintenance door, or some kind of side panel, where he could check-

 

Shattering glass stopped him, as one of the aquariums shattered outwards- into shards of glass and a phantom.

 

‘Of fucking course the Aquariums are just more Looking Glass technology.’

 

Izuku slammed two shotgun rounds deadcenter into the phantom's chest, and the turrets did the rest.

 

Upside, he now knew where the maintenance area for the elevators was.

 

Downside?

 

He could hear static.

 

Which means there was probably an electric Typhon who was disabling the elevator, and Izuku would need to kill it without being electrocuted.

 

Fucking. Joy.

---

Now

Miruko ducked under a snapping pincer, the scorpion like Nomu she had engaged chittering as it slammed its tail, tipped with a foot long curved blade, down at her and she smirked as she twisted past, snapping a kick at the side of the tail and driving it into the ground before she twisted and kicked the other claw away as it tried to snap on her.

 

But in the middle of this she got a glance of Revenant.

 

‘Oh, he’s definitely pissed off.’

 

Her intern was apparently going full ‘menace-to-society’, not that she could blame him. Today was a shitshow.

 

In the five seconds of the fight so far, he had apparently decided to start the fight off by blowing the arms off his Nomu.

Well, she better match him.

 

With a bloodthirsty grin, she caught the next tail strike and twisted, using it as leverage to drive her heel into the recessed ‘face’ of the Nomu, before dragging the bladed tip of the tail around and snapping it off-

 

And then planting it deadcenter in the scorpion's back.

 

As the scorpion-Nomu (Sconomu? Nomupion? Miruko shook the phrasing off and focused on keeping pressure on the blade) shrieked and writhed, while she crouched on its back, pressing on the bladed tail even as it tried to buck her off. And gripping the joints of its pincers and pulling up . Twisting, she set her grip and just focused on pulling , applying steady pressure even as the scorpion tried to thrash and buck her off.

 

Meanwhile, she listened as the… is that the fourth? No, a fifth gunshot rangout and the other Nomu collapsed to the ground.

 

Revenant then pulled his sword and started dismembering, and Miruko grinned and felt the Nomu under her start to slump, and gave one last solid yank , feeling both pincers dislocated and crack.

 

Kicking off, she landed nearby and turned towards Impulse and the police who were just now moving in to take care of clean up.

 

“Everyone good?”

 

Impulse, the old pro he was, seemed fairly well-composed despite the chaos. He was active before her time, and while she had seen him around at a few of the parties and public events, charities and such, she had never really gotten a chance to speak to him one on one.

 

As he walks up, he pulls off the helmet to reveal salt and pepper hair and a narrow face, with neatly trimmed beard and sharply angled eyebrows… but he also had faint laugh lines around his eyes. Though, those were practically lost in a look of frustration and mild grief.

 

“We’ll manage. Miruko, how was…”

 

Right. He was in charge of the Idaten agency, and he had been heading to get his team's support.

 

Rumi can’t help but to slump slightly. “Edgeshot is alive, but out of commission for any further fights. Enigma is alive but… critical. Electrocution and heart problems. Bigshot didn’t make it.”

 

For a moment the old hero goes tense, eyes closed as grief writes across his features, before taking a sharp breath and nodding, eyes opening with that sharp edge of intent.

“Understood.”

 

At the sound of a wet ‘thunk’, Miruko turned to watch as Revenant kicked a leg from the pile of limbs, walking with streaks of blood across his armor and wiping his sword clean with a rag as he took in the scene.

 

“Update from Ear Jacked, the ambulance should be here any minute for Enigma and Edgeshot.”

 

Miruko nodded, and Impulse tensed up slightly at her side, likely picking up on her intern’s barely contained bloodlust.

 

“Good. We need to head back north west, Endeavour is still-”

 

It was only the click of the scorpion’s jaw that warned her, its lower mouth dropping open- aimed straight at her.

 

She twisted, cursing, as she realized she didn’t double-tap-

 

Shink-

 

A barbed spear-like protrusion, nearly half the length of the scorpion’s body, lanced out, fired at intense speed and gleaming with a dark liquid-

 

A sword smashed down across it, deflecting it…

 

But not fast enough.

 

A scored line ripped across Miuko’s thigh, the wound smoking from the toxins.

 

“FUCK!”

 

She reached down and grabbed the wound, only for Revenant to already be there, ripping open a paper packet as he pushed her against a car, pouring a black powder that burned over her wound even as the poison scorched her flesh .

 

“Miruko!”

 

Impulse had no time to even react to what was going on, Revenant moving fast and with no care for propriety or social niceties.

 

Miruko opened her mouth to speak, only to flinch and curse as Revenant pushed on her wound, squeezing around the shredded area, forcing blood dyed black with charcoal and what looked almost like silvery puss from the area.

 

‘Poison. That’s the poison from the spear.’

 

Gritting her teeth, she shifted to give him a better angle, clenching the side of the car she was against as he ripped open his pocket and yanked a tourniquet from his medical pouch.

 

‘Does that thing just have supplies for everything? Goddamn.’

 

As the band wrapped around her thigh above the wound, Revenant glanced up. “This is gonna hurt.

 

“Fu-UUUUCKKKK.”

 

He was not joking. Her leg felt it was already on fire, and the pressure hurt as it squeezed above the wound.

 

He pulled a small bottle and washed off the wound, the black of the charcoal and red of blood washing down her leg over her socks before Izuku swore under his breath and pulled another packet, ripping it open with his teeth and pouring a second layer of charcoal into the wound, and then scrubbing it into the wound.

 

She hissed, hands clenching on the body of the car and denting the fender as she watched as the charcoal hissed on contact with whatever the spear had been coated in, being leached from the wound by the pressure of Izuku’s hands and the pulse of her blood.

 

Then Izuku glanced up and swore.

 

Twisting, Miruko followed his gaze and scowled.

 

The pillar of smoke they had been heading for, the clear marking of where Endeavor was fighting? The pillar of smoke that had been feeding the dark clouds moving in from the ocean?

 

That, until now, had been backlit by hues of yellow and red and orange?

 

Well, the red hue of flames that had been coloring it underside was shifting to blue .

---

Then

So, first of all: Yes, the thing keeping the Elevator locked down was a Typhon.

 

Bad news, it was a completely new type of Typhon.

 

Something his memories were calling a Technopath.

 

Did it have electric powers, yes!

 

More importantly it kept disabling his goddamn electronics.

 

The flicker of his gun’s screens as the safeties were enabled, again, made him curse as he dove away from another possessed operator with a flamethrower, reaching to his belt as he snagged another Nullwave transmitter and an EMP charge, triggering both and tossing them across the room at the technopath, the massive form looking almost like several operators that had been ripped apart and consumed by a mass of Typhon. The metallic plating and siding racked up and integrated into the black mass of flesh.

 

As the charges went off, the creature shrieked, its influence… lessening, as the operators under its control freaked out and sparked.

 

Upside, that also unlocked his guns.

 

Raising his handgun, he unloaded the last of his clip into the mass of the Typhon, sparks flying as part of its hardware was destroyed, before a bolt of electricity arced across the floor towards him, forcing him to dodge again as the operators resumed their chase.

 

Izuku sprinted around one of the support pillars and caught sight of a support strut above.  Twisting, he planted one boot on the pillar and kicked off and up, hooking an arm around the strut and pulling himself above the operators, before dropping another EMP charge and leaping to the next strut along the wall, a burst of his jet boosting him closer- before it misfired because of the fucking Technopath.

 

His fingers barely brushed the strut before his grip, as much as he could get, slipped free and he barely had time to brace before slamming into the ground.

 

The sound of the operators crashing to the ground behind him at least meant the EMP worked, but he still had the big fuck-off typhon.

 

Scrambling to get his feet under him, he barely dodged another arcing line of electrical energy, hand tracing along his bandoleer for something- Not a recycler charge because he needed the Elevator to work. He was out of EMP, was almost out of Null-Wave, he needed-

 

He needed an actual explosive or something, goddamn it.

 

His hand came to rest on the last thing on his belt, and he swore.

 

This was stupid.

 

Pushing around the corner after the latest electrical discharge, Izuku sprinted for the technopath and leapt.

 

The wrench in his hand slammed into the central lens of the operator mass, and Izuku snagged one of the metal plates, gritting his teeth as the metal bit into his left hand.

 

But that just meant that he now had a point to leverage.

 

The Technopath twisted and began to twist and swing, and Izuku planted his feet and gritted his teeth.

 

The wrench smashed down again and again, twisting metal, breaking electronics, ripping and smashing the black typhon flesh-

 

The scent of Ozone and a small burst of sparks were his only warning before Izuku screamed as an electrical charge shot through him.

 

But it didn’t knock him loose.

 

Izuku snarled, ripped the wrench around and wedged it into the central core of the typhon.

 

And then he planted his boot on it and began to push.

 

He hadn’t heard a typhon scream in pain.

 

At least, not until now.

 

The Technopaths' screeching grew higher and higher, and Izuku felt as the wrench began to shift.

 

No, not the wrench.

 

As the Typhon cyborg’s flesh began to give.

 

Another series of sparks started, and Izuku grinned.

 

“TOO LATE!”

 

With a final kick, the body gave way.

 

And with a sickening rip, the technopath was ripped in two, the two halves of electronics pulled away with a snapping of tendons and flesh, and dropped to the ground, Izuku slamming to the ground beside it, panting.

 

Across his skin, blisters were forming from the electrical surge, and Izuku could feel it.

His heart was racing, and was… unsteady. Speeding up and then hesitating.

 

‘Fuck .’

 

He needed a medical droid. He could keep his heart beating manually, he had memories of doing chest compressions on himself, but he needed a Medical Operator to fix this…

 

Pushing to his feet, he stumbled, feeling unsteady, as he looked around.

 

There- a computer console setup above the elevator on a catwalk.

 

Staggering, he headed for it, acutely aware of his pulse, of every pump of his heart… and every skipped beat.

 

He nearly fell as he reached the computer, right hand reaching out and clamping on the desk as his bloodied left hand tapped at the screen, initiating an elevator reset despite the blood that dripped from his torn up palm, his fingers steady despite the pain.

 

As the elevator’s status swapped to ‘In Operation’, Izuku was already stumbling his way back towards the elevator.

 

‘Trauma ward. Lobby. Need to get to the lobby.’

 

He ignored the trail of blood dripping from his hand, and slammed the lift controls.

 

-Arboretum
-Main Lobby

-Life Support

 

Izuku slammed the main lobby button and slumped against the doorframe, feeling as the compartment began to descend.

 

He focused, trying to take deep and slow breaths, even as his heart pumped erratically, as his body twitched and seized as the electrical wounds made him flinch.

 

He just needed it to keep pumping.

 

Of course, that’s when he felt his heart stop.

---

Now

Endeavor exhaled, trying to keep from slumping as he lowered his arms.

 

The second monster was dead.

 

Finally.

 

Already exhausted from the first fight, the second had taken longer, if only by virtue of the monster’s sheer girth . To burn anything important he had needed to burn through what felt like several solid feet of fat.

 

Even now, slumped in the pile of burning flesh, the mechanical parts of the creature still sat, glowing red, against the charred black mass of the monster.

 

In particular was the glowing, twisted, mass of the drill auger.

 

Right, threat down. Next- 

 

“Status, all hands.”

 

Across from him, Burnin glanced up from where she was panting, hands on her knees, burning ‘hair’ cropped short to a mere flicker of what it normally was. “Alive, but I'm out of gas.” 

 

Kido glanced his way from nearby, one arm dripping blood from a close call, and his bandages charred or torn. “Alive, but I need medical soon.”

 

That’s two.

 

“Shoto?”

 

Burnin grimaced. “Alive, but he looked nearly frostbitten. He was just over there”

 

She turned to point at a nearby alley, and Endeavor turned to look for his son, looking past the recently arrived medical team, and a van that was near it, with a woman in a professional looking suit and a camera.

 

‘The media is here. Of course. Not like this is an active combat zone.’

 

He could address them in a minute, first he needed to find-

 

That's when the fires that smoldered around them, the trash and cars that had been casualties of the two fights flared.

 

A ring of flame, blue and haunting spilled from one of the roofs and rushed around the sides of the buildings around the plaza.

 

Shouts, screams of people who had found shelter but not stayed clear of windows, the shouts of medical supplies and the curses of his sidekicks-

 

All of them rang out as the fire spread- before thinning out.

 

Leaving the plaza more than half encased in a ring of overwhelming blue flames.

 

For a moment, Endeavor swore he saw a figure, black clothes flowing, before the flames burned his sight and the figure vanished into the haze.

 

“BACK! EVERYONE BACK-”

 

The heat was overwhelming, and with Endeavor already suffering the pushback of his body to the temps he had been facing, it was too much-

 

And then he heard a cut off choke-

 

Turning, he saw blood.

 

Kido’s blood.

 

A gleaming knife was sunk into his chest, and continuing his turn he saw his other sidekick crashing to the ground.

 

A trace of purple mist fading away-

 

And then a swinging katana, coming from his blindspot, lashed out at him, forcing him to flare his quirk to ward off the attacker even as the blade caught him across his shoulder.

 

As he dodged back, he turned fully and saw his attacker.

 

Red cloth and blades, a scarred face-

 

The Killer Stain.

 

And behind him stepping from a portal at a safe distance, was Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri, the leaders of the League Of Villains.

---

Then

Izuku stumbled, reaching out as he tried to get up the stairs, even as he kept one hand pressed to his chest, pumping to an imaginary beat.

 

One… Two… Three…

 

He nearly tripped on the steps, but he caught himself-

 

Nine… Ten… Eleven…

 

The door to the Trauma ward was right there . He slapped the door control, even as he tried to push through the sliding door as fast as possible.

 

Fifteen… Six-FOCUS-Sixteen… Seventeen.

 

He all but ran, trying to keep his hand steady, to keep his heart pumping in time, to remember to breathe .

 

Twenty

 

The Operator was right there, but the edges of his vision were going black, his balance felt off.

 

“He- Help. Operator.”

 

One… Two…

 

The machine beeped, and Izuku slipped, the operator giving an alarmed beep and trying to ask questions in that calm mechanical voice-

 

Six…. Seven….

 

Izuku dragged himself to his feet and staggered towards the examination table.

 

Ten…

 

If the drone couldn’t reach him, couldn’t reach his heart-

 

“Electrical. Shocked. He-” he coughed nearly choked, but continued. “Heart attack. Not pumping.”

 

Fourteen… Fifteen…

 

He reached the table and slumped.

 

The last thing he could think to do was to push, twisting so that he was laying chest up, hand fumbling for the zipper as the world went dark at the edges.

 

Seventeen….

 

“Help me.”

 

Nineteen…..

He caught a glimpse of movement…

 

Of pale skin and blue eyes…

 

And then oblivion.

Chapter 56: Fast Travel

Summary:

Ah, sorry for the wait... but i hope this delivers on all that you wanted from it.

Enjoy my birthday gift, from me to you all!

Jirou slammed the door to the ambulance shut, hands cramped and arms shaking as she watched the vehicle shoot off. Inside was Enigma and… the body. 

 

They were heading straight towards the hospital, the Hero in critical condition and too unstable for them to risk leaving her around one of the triage tents popping up outside of the combat zones. Edgeshot, however, was still here. His arm unfolded but still… twisted, held in a sling at his side while he directed the triage operations. Nearby civilians who had been injured and moved to make room were being treated, the most serious of the cases being loaded into another ambulance.

 

As she turned back, her communicator gave a beep, another channel flickering to life as her Administration command was pinged.

 

“Admin here, report!” 

 

“This is Crust! Nomu at 14th and 7th has been eliminated. I’m heading after the last Nomu on this site.”

 

Kyouka could barely contain a sigh of relief. 

 

‘Focus, job first and then we can deal with the aftermath.’

 

“Go for it. Pro Hero Manual was supposed to be heading your way to assist with triage, approach your final Nomu with-” another beep, right. “Caution.”

 

“Understood Ear Jacked!” The familiar chime of the hero disconnecting was barely ringing before Jirou swapped lines again.

“Admin here!”

 

“STAIN IS ATTACKING ENDEAV-” The burst of static of the communicator failing was abrupt. Final.

 

Kyouka’s ice froze in her veins, before pressing her communicator.

 

“CONNECT TO REVENANT!”

 

She twisted, trying to look around even as Edgeshot looked her way, startled by her shout. “Ear Jacked?”

 

She ignored him as Izuku’s voice chimed in on the comm. “Kyouka-”

She spoke, Edgeshot going pale at her words.

“It’s happening! Endeavor is being attacked right now. ”

 

“Fuck.” Izuku’s line went quiet for a half second, before he returned. “I’m twenty seconds out. Is the truck still working?”

 

Kyouka twisted to check, and cursed. “Blocked in! It’ll take like two minute to move it past the triage station. You’ve got injured, right!?”

 

“Yes. Miruko’s been poisoned but I’ve prevented its spread, and Impulse is-” a muffled shout, and then Izuku’s voice, this time layered with intent. “ Is exhausted, otherwise he would be there already.”

 

Kyouka couldn’t even find the energy to be amused at Midoriya’s deadpan, she was glancing around, trying to find something- some way-

 

But she was tired. She’d been running communications for almost twenty minutes, trying to- “Kyouka… found a solution.”

 

“What?” 

 

“I need you to do a sound pulse for me. High frequency-high range. Loud and long, aiming to the west. And up, towards the rooftops.”

 

“Izuku, I swear to god-”

 

“Kyouka. You need to get the flying Nomu’s attention. It was circling that way earlier, but I need you to piss it off. Standard winged flying mutations tend towards avian or rodent biology, and often carry enhanced senses for high frequency sounds so they can hear when moving at speed. ”

 

Cursing, she grabbed her ear jacks and slammed them into her boot speaker, lifting her leg up so the sole-speakers were aimed up at the air, and propping her heel on the hood of an abandoned car even as she winced. Her system was designed to resonate across the ground, but she had experimented with air-conducting audio. It wouldn’t knock someone to the ground but it was plenty loud.

 

“Fine! Firing the sound now.”

 

Muting her mic, she gestured for Edgeshot, now crouched at her side, to plug his ears.

 

And, taking a breath, she began to pump out an audio wave; using the beats of her heart to generate the force, she focused and began to increase the mental ‘Dial’ she used to control the frequency.

 

What started as a low humming sound, quickly rose up in pitch towards the upper end of human hearing, vibrating across the street as all the glass nearby rang with the resonance of the sound.

 

At the end of the street, Izuku came jogging around the corner; Miruko was hanging off his shoulders and skipping on one leg, the other bandaged and tourniqueted, and Impulse slid behind them, glancing around and covering the flanks of the other two. Kyouka could see Miruko wincing as they drew near, her ears pressed flat to her skull.

 

‘Right, rodent mutations and sound, Miruko counts!’

 

Izuku glanced up and made the universal ‘Cut’ signal with his hand to his throat.

 

As Kyouka stopped the sound she heard a distant screech.

 

‘Oh. Fuck. Every pro here that’s still alive is either injured or exhausted.”

 

“Izuku, please tell me you have a plan!”

 

With a grunt, Izuku lifted Miruko and set her on the edge of the truck, even as the distant screeching started getting louder.

 

“Taking the streets would take too long, and that’s if we could find a way through the fire when we got close.” As he stepped back, Jirou glanced over and flinched at the way that Miruko looked… flushed. Her leg beneath the tourniquet was inflamed, a bright red rash that stretched out from under the bandage. “Miruko, you need a medical specialist, preferably one who can strip the chemicals or find a nullifier for what’s left of the poison. Impulse, your son and his mentor headed to the west side, if you can catch up they are assigned search and rescue.” Edgeshot took Miruko’s weight and the two crippled heroes headed for one of the ambulances at speed. So far Edgeshot had been willing to follow the rule of ‘Leader in Motion’.

Impulse bristled, straightening up before Izuku glanced in his direction, hands digging in his pockets as he pulled out a small leather pouch and a tightly wrapped black bundle. “Tenya fought the hero killer and barely survived the attempt. And he was looking for that fight. Go talk to your fucking kid.”

 

That made the elder hero freeze, before he gave a sharp exhale. “Godspeed, Revenant.”

 

Turning, Impulse’s quirk began to rev up, and he took off down another side street.

 

But Jirou was focusing instead on the distant sound of screeching and flapping wings.

 

“Izuku, whatever your plan is-”

 

The teen had stepped back, and in his hand, fingers moving with sharp motions, he had a length of paracord that he was looping around his arm, one end hooked to his belt, with small black metal hooks clipped onto the cord every few feet.

 

Kyouka could only pause as she started putting the pieces together.

 

“No. No fucking way.”

 

The mask unfolded, revealing Izuku with an expression that was a mix of focus, amusement and something that Jirou could only fathom as barely settled rage.

 

“Kyouka. I’ve got it.”

 

She could see the distant black shape swerving around the sky, growing bigger by the second.

 

But…. she trusted him.

 

Pushing off, she paused, and leaned out and gave Izuku a sharp hug, catching him under one arm. He froze, stiff as a statue under his uncomfortable armor plates, but she could only hug him tighter, hearing that war-drum heartbeat, the one that had been loud and constant ever since everything first went to shit, stuttering as she squeezed tight.

 

“If you die I’m going to bitch about it so loudly you’ll hear it in the afterlife, I swear to god.”

 

Gently, his arm came to rest across her shoulders with its own gentle squeeze.

 

“This won’t kill me…. I promise.”

 

The screech of the Nomu got closer, and she let go, stepping back as Izuku shifted, his cloak rising as he pulled the hood up, the mask unfolding once more as the hood’s edge magnetically clipped to the temple, hiding his hair and ponytail away.

 

“Now, excuse me, but I have a ride to catch.”

 

He turned away, and began to jog, and then sprint, aiming straight down the street, at the hood of a parked van, the Nomu’s distant form swinging down into abrupt focus as it dove at them.

 

A whistle, sharp and piercing, drew the Nomu's focus.

 

The returned screech, claws flashing in the light, black-veined and large-mouthed, wings like an ancient flying raptor half curled as it dove-

 

Three steps up to the roof of the van, before Revenant leapt , a twisting push almost more gymnastic than practical, a vertical leap that must have cleared almost three meters- 

 

Plenty of space to clear a diving Nomu’s reach.

 

The loose curl of a black rope that had been left in Izuku’s wake, tossed back and down into the path of the Nomu- before catching and pulling tight against beak and shoulder, dragging its passenger down to plant his feet in the creature’s shoulders, pulling the Nomu’s head up and back-

 

Flinching, Kyouka ducked as grasping claws cleaved through the van’s roof, sending the tempered glass shattering across the street as the front windshield exploded from the impact. But she saw as the Nomu was pulled up and around, screeching as more loops of rope were tossed out, gleaming with barbed hooks that caught and pulled on the edges of its wings.

 

With a screech, it took one more shaking thrash before its wings were given slack and gave in turn a mighty stroke, the creature climbing once more into the sky.

 

Jirou only got one last look at Izuku’s dark cloaked form, lines of cord leading from his belt and arms to the wings, before it flapped again and rose out of sight, twisting to vanish behind the rooftops.

 

Only the screeching of the Nomu echoing across the street remained.

 

Kyouka took one last deep breath, grit her teeth and set her spine, before reaching up and turning on her comms.

 

‘Leadership in Motion supersedes Leadership in Ignorance.’

 

She overrode the fighting channels once more. “ALL HANDS, IGNORE THE FLYING NOMU. I need eyes on Endeavor's fight! Stain has been sighted hunting the number 2 hero! The League of Villains is potentially involved! Anyone who can respond to the Northern Plaza in Hosu, get there! Medical, I'm requesting any free EMS from the northern half of the district to prepare for extensive wounds; be ready for burn victims!”

 

As the first replies started coming in, Kyouka took a deep breath.

 

‘Don’t you dare fucking die, Izuku.’

---

Then

The glow of computer screens lit up the darkened room, a wall of screens spread out in front of several keyboards and split between a dozen of the highest end computers ever created by human hands.

 

Kirito sighed and rubbed at their eyes, the now chronic eye bags and pulsing of a stress headache signs that they had been up too long doing this, yet again.

 

But Kirito couldn't help it. The rest of the crew were either sleeping or doing their actual jobs. Klein had been off the Island for several days for another meeting with the Japanese branch about setting up the eventual procedures for If- No. When Midoriya Izuku was released from the simulation. Agil had joined him as back up, the older man's intimidating stature more useful out in Japan than in the Pacific. Asuna was still in charge of long-term medical rehabilitation research, and was assisting with a recent breakthrough there, and Argo had gone to sleep several hours ago, helping by keeping an eye on Yui after another therapy session.

 

Kirito couldn’t sleep, however. Not with Midoriya’s run still active. 

 

Because Prey, Simulation Five, was a nightmare.

 

Memory alteration, cold resets, limited interaction… and the mindgames.

 

The entire I-Island crew had been in and out of the ‘Viewing Room’ for nearly a month straight now, just trying to keep track of Midoriya-kun’s status in the simulation.

 

And it had been a hard month…

 

‘Midoriya’s 8th run, his left eye missing and blood dripping down his face as he slammed his bare hand into the wall of the station, screaming as he left a bloody dent into the metal… before collapsing with a shuddering cry, hand nothing but pulp.’

 

God, that memory still made them pause, and it was far from the worst….

 

The current record holder had to be the first destabilization, in run 4.

 

Midoriya just… falling apart, mentally and then, eventually, physically. The early variants of the Neuromod project ripping his head apart, tearing his memories and sense of self to shreds.

 

The broken speech, the frustration as memories… regressed apart under the weight of new information. The alternating moments of purely mechanical brilliance, nailing a dozen headshots in a row before stumbling over how numbers worked. The pseudo-quirks, the Typhon Abilities malfunctioning and leaving parts of him… twisted. 

 

When he was finally killed in that run, and woke up remembering everything he started with once more, it was a relief. Even the chat had agreed.

 

Speaking of, up next to the livestreamed visual of the simulation, another screen held the chat, the messages slowed but not quiet. His moderation bot was working as intended, keeping most of the sick fucks from overwhelming his feed with jokes or spam, but there were always people in the chat now, waiting for the simulation to resume or trying to ask questions and figure stuff out. More than once they had scrounged up old game files and walkthroughs, which a different bot Kirito designed had been securing for him and Argo to break down, trying to get ahead of how the simulations would play out ‘plot’ wise.

 

Rubbing his eyes once more to stop reliving the memories and to try and fight the headache, he glanced at the still black ‘loading’ screen of the Simulation. While Midoriya was unconscious, the screen would remain the same black as if he died. Only when he woke up would the stream know if he was dead or alive. 

 

Kirito, at least, had more information. 

 

A tap of the keyboard and another screen pulled up the latest system notifications. A ‘read only’ compilation of the status check the system would do every few minutes. It was likely meant for Sugoh, but despite the maniac’s skills, Kirito was a better hacker. And they had also written most of the operating system the madman had used long before it left the Island.

 

///Memory And Learning Protocol paused.
///Subject currently unconscious.
///Assessing Neural State.
///Neural Stability Confirmed: Stable
///Subject has successfully assimilated prior memory scarring with 89.32% accuracy.
///Neural networking expansion confirmed.
///Analyzing Neural tissue composition.
///Sensory Nerve activity currently at 154% base record, marked increase from prior 132% recorded at the inception of Simulation 5. 

///Neural Tissue Composition recorded. Testing emulated tissue.

///Emulated Tissue comparable to previous Neural Membrane material, shows higher rate of transmission. Reassess expected reaction times. Calibrate simulation to match.

There was more, of course. Details more obscure that dove into the actual biomechanics of how Midoriya’s body was being adjusted, but that was Asuna’s wheelhouse. She could only say for certain that he was still alive and viable, but the more changes that came through the more anxious she became, comparing the changes mentioned to her own records of physical mutations and stress growths. 

 

“Concerning, but possibly safe.” was not the verdict everyone wanted to hear. 

 

It was all they really got.

 

Kirito, however, had dug deeper, paging through the system assessment and page after page of ‘this system is active’ and ‘this system is inactive.’.

 

Because that’s where the really scary list of readouts was found.

 

//Psionic Signature Encoding is proceeding at above expected rates.

//Biological Adaptation is adapting to increased Nerve interfacing.

//Genetics Optimization proceeding as planned.

//Quirk Emulation: Disabled

//System Stability: 93.9%.
//Estimated uptime before system failure: 164 days

 

Kirito hadn’t shared it. Not yet, not until the effects were visible.

 

Because the possibilities of these systems were terrifying.

 

‘Emulated Quirk Effects… Dear god.’

 

If the administration or the board of directors thought that Sugoh’s tech could recreate full quirk interactions… the entire department would be blackboxed and locked down, livestream and the trapped teenager be damned.

 

Kirito would have to just keep quiet, unless it became too dangerous not to.

 

An alert popped up.

 

//Subject Nine returning to Consciousness.

 

Kiriro sighed. “Thank fuck.”

 

And then, the livestream faded in from black to the Trauma Ward once more.

---

Now

A gristly thunk signaled the end of the fight, a finishing blow.

 

Crust rose, breathing heavily, ignoring the dark blood that was splattered over his legs and boots, the flecks that traced a line up his chest. Arterial spray from the beast he stood over.

Beneath him, cut in half across the chest by the sharpened edge of a shield, the spear-spitting Nomu was dead. Even now the stone hexagon was embedded in the asphalt beneath the mutated beast, rising out of its flesh like a blank gravemarker.

 

Looking around, Crust couldn’t bring himself to feel accomplished, despite the Nomu’s death. The street was ruined, consumed by a veritable forest of spears that had punched through metal and concrete, matched only by the shields that Crust had embedded and thrown, several of which were marked with the Nomu's blood.

 

When the call that they would have secondary quirks came over the comms, Crust had already been aware. Beyond just the spears that the beast had spat at him, it had shown the ability to convert its large mass into more dense and complex spears, and more complicated creations. More than one shield had been bypassed or shattered by these ‘armor piercing’ spears, or spears that fragmented into spikes and shrapnel. It was only when it began to run out of mass, the once large body with its spider like limbs reduced to something near humanoid, limbs hanging limp and desiccated by its own abilities, that Crust was able to close the distance.

 

Sighing at the collateral, he shook his head, and banished his doubts. He did his best, now to follow up.

 

He reached up to his cowl and tapped the recessed button for his team communications. “Shell! Report!”

 

The young but calm voice of his sidekick came over the communicator clearly. “Triage station established two blocks South of your location sir! Manual of the Everyday agency is on the scene assisting with recovery and rescue, and Impulse of Idaten is on his way, ETA 3 minutes.”

 

Crust couldn’t stop his grin. The old speedster was up and active, what wonderful news! “Good! Any news on the last of the Nomu in our section?”

 

“...No, sir. Last contact was six blocks North… nearly four minutes ago. Edgeshot Agency reported engaging a Nomu with some form of movement quirk.”

 

Crust glanced around, and his eyes narrowed on the blue tinged pillar of smoke towards the center.

 

Even at his best, he wasn’t going to reach the conflict in time. Ten minutes on foot would have him showing up in the aftermath, if at all.

 

No, instead he would clear the rest of the western front.

 

“You said six streets North?”

 

“Yes sir! Sidekicks Sai and Kunai were engaging the Nomu.”

 

Crust nodded decisively, and began to run, ignoring the slight ache in his arms and back, and the way his hands were still dripping blood, the edges of his shields having dug into his palms as he fought.

 

He would have to show these sidekicks how to do it!

 

No amount of simple pain was going to stop him! 

---

Then

Izuku pushed up from the operating table with a grunt, feeling his chest ache with the motion. His suit was still half open, unzipped to reveal his chest. Reaching up, he winced as his hands slid across… a pair of electrical burns. Square and bright red, with what looked and felt like a cream to help heal the wounds overtop.

 

‘Defibrillation?’ That lined up. 

 

Shifting, he swung his legs off the table and sat upright, shaking his head as the rush of blood-

 

“Whoa! Hold up now!”

 

Firm hands gripped his shoulders, steadying him, and Izuku blinked, finding himself looking into a pale face with bright blue eyes. 

 

It was Aaron, the prisoner from Psychotronics. ‘Right… I sent him here… how long ago?’

Aaron sighed, and sat back against a shelf. “Jesus fuck man, you gave me a hell of a scare!”

 

“How-” Izuku shook his head and cleared his throat, wincing as he made out the taste of blood and the sensation that he definitely bit his tongue at some point. “How long was I out?”

 

“Almost two hours.” Leaning down, Aaron pulled a bottle from the side table. “I gotta tell you man, you freaked me right the fuck out! When the elevator started up I thought we were in the shit and held up in the cafeteria! And then I caught sight of you staggering into the trauma ward- Whoo, you were fucked man.”

 

Izuku took a grateful sip of the water, swishing it around before spitting watered down blood into a tray and wiping his mouth. “Electrical charge. Gave me arrhythmia and that turned into a heart attack.”

 

“Goddamn. Good thing you made it back here.”

 

Izuku nodded, and downed the last of the bottle of water.

 

“I need to get back out there.” Levering his arms, he pushed up, staggering even as he brushed off Aaron’s steadying grip.

 

“You serious? Buddy, you nearly just died!”

Izuku turned and let his frustration bubble up, just a bit. “And the longer I sit around, the more other survivors die. The more likely it is that we all die. This isn’t some minor breach, Aaron. This is a Talos 1-wide contamination issue. What happens if a mimic gets to earth? Or if Earth decides the entire station is beyond saving? The reactor core has a self-destruct sequence for good fucking reason.”

 

Aaron paused, and glanced away, pale skin going paper white as he realized just how deep shit the station was in. “Jesus Christ.”

 

“Yeah. That’s why I need you to keep the fort up and running.”

 

“What?” Aaron grimaced, puffing up his shoulders. “I can come with you, I have the shotgun-”

 

Izuku sighed, and grabbed the man's arm, dragging him off balance and towards the isolation cell.

 

As they rounded the corner, Izuku turned and pointed, letting Aaron flinch at the sight of the dried blood on the inside of the window.

 

“There was a doctor, one of the scientists, in this cell. He was being mind fucked by a Typhon. When I started talking to him, his head fucking exploded. ”

 

Aaron staggered back, eyes wide and turned to gag.

 

Izuku figured it was time to sell the point home, and tapped his helmet and the psychoscope mounted above his temple. “To avoid that shit, you need a psychoscope. And so far? I have the only one I’ve seen.”

 

The man hesitated, glancing at the scope before looking back at the bloodied window.

 

“Fine. You’ve made your damn point. What do you need?”

 

Izuku held back a sigh of relief and gave a nod.

“Right, first of all, how do you feel about learning to set trip mines?”

 

---

Now

Endeavor threw another spiral of flame between himself and Stain, backing up and breathing heavily. His entire body felt sunburnt, every breath he took dry and hot, and the very air around him shimmered with the heatwave of the surrounding blue flames. 

 

‘Dehydration risk, if not more. No room to thermoregulate or cool off, and the air is thinner, keeping my flames banked.

 

The incessant heat, the constant harrying of the blade, and in the distance, the watching red eye of who he recognized as Shigaraki, a member of the League Of Villains, and his teleporting companion, all pushed him back… step by step.

 

Kido was dead, blood pooling around his body, but Burnin was still alive, just paralyzed. He didn’t know how the paralysation worked, but he knew the mechanism and that was just as useful.

 

He couldn't spill blood.

 

“Afraid, Fake?”

 

Endeavor sneered at the manic expression on Stain’s face and leapt back, blasting flames once more.

“Of you? Hardly.”

 

It was only the gleam of blue and orange being reflected off the blade once more that warned him, the edge of a katana gleaming as it cut around the flame, swinging at his side once more- 

 

And drawing blood.

 

Snarling at the pain as his suit was ripped open in a line across his chest, Endeavor threw out another wave of flame with his hand, chasing the katana, desperate to burn the blood before-

 

A swirl of mist, black flames rushing past and consuming the flames, the combustion lost in black smoke and deep purple woven energy-

 

Todoroki Enji could only stare as the blade was lifted up, desperately throwing another tendril of heat, of cauterizing orange flame, at the sight-

 

Tongue touched blade, and with a single lick , Endeavor lost control of his body. His muscles spasmed, his body no longer his to command, but instead a marionette with cut strings. 

 

Stain flinched back, a bright red mark across his face…. but smiling all the same.

 

The fire flickered out, the familiar and practiced stance Endeavor had taken lasting for only a fraction of a second before falling apart as he staggered, unable to act to catch himself.

 

He hit the ground like a bag of bricks, splayed out facing his attacker.

 

The flames that wreathed him, that had kept the Hero-Killer at bay, began to fade and die, the orange light of his quirk washed away by the oppressive blue flames that even now swirled and burned through the air, casting the world in an unreal blue tinge.

 

Endeavor could also see it.

 

The camera crew and the reporter, her hand over her mouth in horror, the camera focused on the scene and red light blinking. 

 

Live feed.

 

And in his chest, the first strangled threads of panic began to beat.

 

Doubt.

 

Fear.

 

The flames flickered one last time, and, despite Enji’s desperate efforts, faded.

 

And there, grinning, was Stain. The red of his outfit turned black by the blue flames, his skin cast in a gray pallor- but his eyes…

 

The blood-red of his eyes blazed through. 

 

The silence was deafening. Only the distant crackle of flame filled the air, the rest of the bystanders, the civilians who had been pushed back, the triage station established at the edge of the plaza-

 

They all fell quiet as Endeavor fell.

 

And Stain’s words echoed, drenched in Intent , layered with a perverse joy.

 

“The Greatest Fake Hero, Endeavor, Fallen at last .” 

 

Enji tried to do something, anything.

 

His body wouldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch. His heartbeat was slow, despite the choking panic that was rising. Desperately, he tried to work out how. 

 

‘Affects the autonomic nervous system? It’s almost like sleep paralysis, my body is disconnected from my active thoughts and efforts.’

 

Switching tracks, he focused instead on his quirk.

 

And there he felt it… a bit of leeway, a muscle that could be barely twitched.

 

A kick broke his train of thought.

 

Stain had stepped closer, spiked boot kicking his shoulder so that he sprawled on his back..

 

“No words, Fake? No final cry for help?”

 

Enji merely met his gaze and glared.

 

If he died here, and he refused to die here , he would be stoic about it.

 

But even now, he struggled, trying to reach, to pull on the elusive, and weak, feel of his quirk.

 

Stain scoffed, and raised his blade.

“Die, Fake.”

 

The blade rose higher-

 

And a bright yellow flame bloomed.

 

The killer scowled leaping back, sword raised-

 

Because those hadn’t been Enji’s flames.

 

“Sorry, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”

 

Those had been Shouto’s.

 

Enji had seen the flames at the sports festival, but not this close, not when it was intentional.

 

Shouto’s flames were brighter than his. The dark orange and red of Endeavor's flames, unless he pushed himself, were nothing compared to the pale yellow flames that bloomed from Shouto’s left hand.

 

The teen was limping, his right leg covered in shredded and charred cloth and his shirt sleeves ripped clean off, the shoulders showing burn marks. Enji couldn’t get a good look, collapsed on his back, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep satisfaction . 

 

Shouto was using his fire once more!

 

Another bright wheel of flame rushed towards the hero-killer, sending him further back as Shouto limped closer, left arm held and primed out towards the killer.

 

“My father won’t die here. Not to you.”

 

 With another slow step, the yellow flames held in a twisting wall between Enji’s body and the stalking killer, Shouto positioned himself ahead of Endeavor, eyes locked on the killer's frame.

 

But from his angle, Enji could see his son’s right arm… and the blisters.

 

Clusters of four wide lines. A repeating pattern from his shoulder to his wrist. It tightened and lightened in waves, each group of four spread out in a fan pattern, the edges discolored and blistering.

 

‘Handprints?’

 

“Another Fake . I should have known it runs in the family!”

 

Blistered hands tightened, and Endeavor had a moment of panic.

 

Shouto wasn’t ready for this.

 

He was already injured, pushed to his limit, and the Hero-killer was dangerous.

 

But as Stain raised his blade, and Shouto drew his flames into motion once more, Enji could only watch.

 

And pray that his son was up to the task.

---

Then

Neurological Integrity: 98.12% 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Izuku tapped the edge of his transcribe on his knee. Half an hour working with Aaron and the design suite of the main lab had resulted in a ‘Mine’ variant of the Nullwave transmitters, as well as a variant that would work when plugged into the station's wall sockets. All of the mines could be linked to a remote function on a transcribe, and the few stronger station linked ones had remote ‘on/off’ switches. The hope was that any Typhon making an assault would run headlong into a transmitter field, spazz out, and quickly become easy pickings for the turrets.

 

At the moment, Aaron was running the installation of the mines, and Izuku was ‘Sitting down before he fell down’ up in Morgan's office.

 

A whir of propulsion drew his eyes towards January, the Operator floating above Morgan's desk… but focused on Midoriya.

 

“You mentioned that we needed to reach Alex's office. That wouldn’t happen to be the modern art-deco house deadcenter in the arboretum, would it?”

 

“Correct. Alex’s main office is the arboretum complex, though I am unsure if he is currently present there. We also need access to the station's command center, located off the arboretum as well.”

 

Izuku nodded, setting the transcribe down even as he pulled the remaining vial from his suit, holding the purple fluid up to the light.

 

IM-11-Modifier

“I know you’re leading me somewhere, this ‘quest’ of yours has an end point you want me to face.”

 

The Operator remained silent.

 

“I know that Morgan will be in the Neuromod Division at some point.”

More silence, the black eye of the operator hovering there, focused on Izuku.

Izuku stared back quietly, mind racing as he took a moment to view the simulation from a… wider perspective. The mechanics of the simulation were about learning. About memory and information. But that was just the mechanics. Look at it from a plot perspective… and something jumped out.

 

“The Trolley Problem. Why does this keep leading back to the Trolley Problem.”

 

‘It’s like Aaron, save or kill. Does the man's history change the actions you take?’

The Trolley Problem was the last part of the ‘Intro’ sequence before the cycles started.

 

And when he had talked with Aaron earlier, explaining the threat to the station-

 

That hadn’t been just his experience this run talking. That had come from the memories. From the Neuromods.

 

He hadn’t realized what he was really saying at the time, but playing back the conversation, it was like seeing the outside corners of a puzzle fall into place… now he just needed to fill in the details.

 

Izuku looked down, clicked the Modifier Vial into the injector, and raised it to his eye.

 

A hiss, and he let the rush of memories begin once more.

 

Time to get more pieces to this puzzle.

---

Now

Todoroki Shouto hurt.

 

Just standing, putting any pressure on his right leg, was agony.

 

The frostbite had been bad, but to save his fingers and any dexterity he had been forced to warm them back up to restore blood flow, and it had left its mark. His body was naturally resistant to the touch of heat, but almost in a cruel mockery of his mother’s ice against his face, he had used too much heat upon a frozen wound.

 

The blistering skin popped and leaked, blood leaking from cracked skin to trace down his arm- before evaporating in the flames wreathed around him.

 

The fire was… unruly. Difficult even at the best of times, with exhaustion and pain clouding his thoughts it was less a weapon and more a living beast that he was leading with his quirk, pulling fragments of heat and light off and throwing them with his left hand as he fought to keep his right still and steady.

 

But it was enough, for now.

 

His right hand clenched tighter, and he prayed that his plan, desperate as it was, was working.

 

Drawing his quirk tighter, he spun and threw another spiral, another lattice of flames and arches of heat that expanded and roared outwards, making the killer dance and retreat under the assault, before wincing and adjusting as the killer rushed back in.

 

He wasn’t going to keep this up for long. He couldn’t.

 

The air was bone dry and hot, scalding his throat with every deep breath, and he could feel the moisture being stripped from his body, the wounds on his arm drying shut only to crack open anew as he twisted from another attack.

 

He could hear Stain talk. The killer spoke quite a lot, and loudly.

But against the roar of heat in his ears, the flames in his mind, the pain that throbbed with every moment… Shouto wasn’t really listening. It was taking all his effort to just look at Stain.

 

Part of it was the Blue Flames far above making things worse. The sharp contrast made watching Stain painful with how his red color palette shifted to black. And that was before you considered that the flames above were bright and hot and overwhelmingly present, but they had been fading since they first were released, the user likely suffering his own consequence.

 

Another sword swing came and Shouto had to leap back, dragging his hand forwards and across his chest in a burst of flames- only for Stain to come from under the flames, sword twisting behind him as a knife came out.

 

‘A feint-’

 

The dagger in Stain’s off hand lashed out- aiming for his face.

 

His arm was across his chest, his fire already out of easy reach and balance shot-

 

He closed his eye reflexively, tossing his head back-

 

Too late. 

 

The tip of the blade snagged on his shoulder and gave him a half second more to dodge- before it flicked up and sliced deep into his cheekbone across his scar, barely missing his left eye, then flicking free past his temple and into the air.

 

‘It missed my eye- I can still-’

 

Shouto tried to twist, to swing his arm back down, bright yellow flames bursting, across his left side-

 

And it worked.

 

Yellow flames splashed across a raised arm, drawing a hiss of pain from the killer, his clothes charring in the heat ducking away… and bringing his blade to his mouth -

 

Shouto lost control, his body went limp.

 

As he slammed down, he saw it.

 

His hand, loose and unresponsive, dropping his cracked phone to the ground.

 

Revenant

Call Time: 3:46

Location: On

 

And then he slammed into the ground on his back. But even in that position, Shouto couldn’t help a dry laugh, as a shrill screech rang in the air.

 

He found himself looking up just in time, able to see the blue flames vanish with the crack of a gunshot.

 

Midoriya had listened.

---

Then

Izuku stood at the fabricator as he slid the first resource cubes home.

 

Modifier was interesting.

It had been similar to the Repair Neuromod, in function. How to break down and assess items, how components worked, where power supplies were placed and points of danger and repair…

But instead of repair , Modifier was about improvement.

 

Shotgun only holds 4 rounds? Replacing the barrel assembly and changing out the magazine tube can change that. And if you’re doing that, why stop at a standard tube? Get interesting… reinforce it. Exchange the muzzle break for a breaching tool, spiked so that when you slam the gun into someone you get damage . As well as to pin slippery fucking Typhons to the ground or wall or a nearby display case and blow a nice hole in em.

 

The silenced 9mm pistol? The magazine design he had figured out from the other Neuromods was improved, cleaned up, and adjusted, ending up as 22-round magazines that could double as a trench knife in a pinch. Adjust the slide and iron sights for better precision and cleaner sightlines. Rip out half the silencer for a better barrel to get more force, and compress the rest. If you have to shoot it’s gonna start a fight anyway, why waste effort on subtlety at that point. Just keep it quiet enough not to deafen the user.

 

And the wrench… Well, he didn’t really use it as a wrench that often.

And blunt force is far less effective than chopping force. So angle and flatten the blocky edges and make that wrench into a nice handaxe. Lengthen the handle for some extra range, strip a spare stun gun for the capacitor, battery, and trigger so you can hook it into a conductive surface like the newly fabricated ax head and slide the rest into the handle… and things get fun. 

 

And then came the real fun things he learned. 

 

How to break things into component parts, and how to mix and match them.

 

Izuku’s issue with the Gloo Gun had always been that it was bulky. Too big and unwieldy to carry on his suit, hard to swap to in the middle of a fight when the guns were faster to reload and did actual damage, and requiring both hands to get any real accuracy with it.

 

But what if he didn’t have to worry about using two hands for it? The bulk of the Gloo Gun was mostly because of the sheer amount of stuff needed to get pressure… but if you already had a way to build pressure, like, maybe, an Artax propulsion kit- well. Move the air compressor back and hook it onto his suit’s propulsion system to siphon and store excess pressure. Run a parallel line along his arm with the same style as his Artax. Refit the Gloo tube and the ammo canister into a secondary system that fits onto a newly fabricated brace for his arm. Swap the squared off heat activation element for the GLOO reaction to a circular one on the barrel with a bit of curved metal for a heat shroud. Make a simple spring lever and thumb switch for the controls and trigger system, or better yet run the wires in and redesign the hand control for the jets with a new pair of triggers, he had the blueprint for that after all.

 

Izuku held his arm up and reached out to flip the spring grip up, grinning as it snapped to the palm of his hand, the switch and trigger system just right for-

 

Whhrrrr-Splat-at-at-at.

 

From his arm he pointed and sprayed a line of foam beads across the wall above the fabricator.

 

It took a half second to spin up, but the spray was straight, the barrel wasn’t exploding, the ammo counter on his wrist was updating accurately, and the GLOO was forming and sticking correctly.

 

And his hand was still free to do things too, just flick the control rod down to his arm and he’s free to do whatever bit of finicky mechanics needed.

 

“Oh, that's very useful now.”

 

Turning, Izuku glanced over the rest of his freshly upgraded arsenal laying on the worktable, and nodded to himself. 

 

“Right, let's go cause problems.”

---

Now

Flying creatures were really complex.

 

The wings, the aerodynamic profile, the mechanics of weights and angles…

But as the Nomu thrashed and clawed at the air, its quirk was doing the work, wings moving more air and generating more pressure then they should. 

 

‘I was right. I knew this was an augmented flight quirk.’

 

Izuku yanked on one cord, feeling the wing creak as he applied pressure and sent the Nomu spiraling up and to his right, towards the pillar of blue flame. He was forced to lean, one knee bent as he braced with the motion, his boots planted in the spine and shoulder muscles of the Nomu as it rose high and fast, before he loosened and adjusted his grip on the wing to level out as the Nomu continued to thrash underneath him.

 

His mask beeped.

 

‘Incoming Call: Todoroki Shouto.’

 

“Accept Call.”

 

Shouto didn’t waste time.

 

“Midoriya. Stain, He’s here.” The stoic teenager sounded pained. His words were cut off by hisses and gasps, and Izuku could make out the sound of fire and the hiss of burning.

 

“Todor-”

“Endeavor can’t win. The fire above, it’s going to kill him. He can’t cool off and the air is thin enough he can’t reach his usual heat. And that’s if Stain doesn’t get him.”

 

Izuku tensed and dragged the lines so the Nomu twisted to one side once more, dodging a radio tower as he flew past, the monster's screeches lost to the wind as he got a better look.

 

“What do you need?”

 

“The fire has to be a quirk, and it needs to be stopped. I can see signs of heatstroke. You need to take out the wielder. They’re in the northeast corner, I can see their silhouette.”

 

“Got it. What are you going to do?”

 

“Endeavor just got hit. I’m going to buy time.”

 

And with that, his voice faded away, but the call was still live.

 

He could hear Shouto’s voice, cracked and exhausted, as he stood up and stepped in, and Izuku tightened his grip on the lines, unmuted his mask, roared at the Nomu and slid one booted foot up to the base of its neck, readying for some truly stupid flying.

“ALRIGHT YOU BIOENGINEERED PIECE OF SHIT!”

He hauled on the lines, making the Nomu claw and screech as it rose higher, giving Izuku a clear sight of the western edge of the plaza.

 

Across his comms he could still hear the noise of the fight. The roar and crackle of flames, the shouts of Stain’s voice, reduced only to his loud cries of ‘Faker’ and ‘Fool’ .... Todoroki Shoto’s desperate breaths.

.

The Nomu angled higher and higher, the air whipping past with an acrid and hot edge as they hit the edge of a smoke cloud- and then he loosened his grip, and slammed his boot down.

 

“DIVE!.”

 

The instinctive ability to fly didn’t disappoint. With the wings loosened and the force on its neck, the Nomu went into a full on divebomb, entire back shaking back and forth as it tried to dislodge its passenger-

 

To no avail.

 

 Sharp tugs one by one changed the angle of attack, twisting them lower and lower, cords unhooked from his belt and harnesses as he adjusted them on the fly, measuring out slack and twisting it around his left arm to maintain the right levels of tension.

 

But, even as the Nomu dove for the land, trying to toss him free, Izuku was waiting.

 

He needed the speed, the angle, the force .

 

Conservation of momentum.

 

And as he dipped under the line of the buildings, closing on the streets, he closed his eyes and listened.

 

The pitch of the wind…. The sensation of the fall…

 

Conserve the momentum and sweep. You have to swing sharply and keep the speed as long as possible…

 

The phone call transmitted the sound of a body hitting the floor, and it was do or die time.

 

Pull up NOW

 

Pulling back, he slammed his weight onto his backfoot and ripped; as one, all of the lines fully opened, hooks tearing at the skin and webbing of the wings, the entire reach of the Nomu’s wings flaring wide and angled against the wind and catching the pressure wave with a snap, and all the downward momentum pulled up, sweeping into a sharp climb, going nearly vertical, G-force pulling him down and out of his arc as he rushed past the street and climbed- 

 

And then he was shooting up parallel to the building, the Nomu squealing as it passed by the lip of the building- and into the firestorm .

 

But for a moment, as the building was left behind, and before the Nomu was sent into the sea of blue flame- for three-quarters of a second, perhaps less, he was between the building and the firestorm.

 

Revenant saw his target. Wreathed in blue flame, the figure was barely a shadow , just a dark figure with a hooded shape who was slumped on one knee, his hands raised and flame pouring from his grasp, boiling away into the sky.

 

One hand slipped free of the lines and snapped down, snagged the grip of his handgun, and ripped it up in a motion so fast and instinctive that he felt his arm strain, his joints crack as the stress pulled at his very musculature, the Nomu’s wing collapsing after the lack of tension and sending it into a uncontrolled spiral- but it was enough.

 

Izuku lined up the shot, his eye gleaming through the lense of his mask, the augmented sight a fraction of a millisecond behind the image filtering through polarized material-

 

And, before the Nomu was consumed in the cloud of flame, Izuku pulled the trigger and saw blood spray out, evaporating in the heat-

 

Before blue flames consumed him and Nomu, and they vanished in the smoke stained sky.

 

---

Then

The Elevator door dinged as it reached the Arboretum, and as it opened, a roar echoed.

 

Izuku raised the shotgun to his shoulder, tilting it as he got used to the changed balance and weight, and the distant sound of the Nightmare drew his gaze down and out of the hallway with the fake aquariums. 

 

For a moment he considered just waiting out the Nightmare… But no. He was wasting time every second he wasn’t moving forwards, and he was ready. Nine neuromods in, a full and recently upgraded arsenal except for something big that he knew he wouldn’t find for a while, and almost 200 spare rounds of ammo stashed on his suit.

 

“Fine, I guess we’re doing field testing now. ” The turrets whirred as he stepped past, and he tapped his transcribe on his belt, opening the radio link once more.

 

“Chat, give me something fun, would you?”

 

As he stepped up the steps at the end of the hall, and out onto the cobbled walkways of the Arboretum, he could see the massive shape of the Nightmare looming from where it stood on one of the rises of stone and vines. Typhon-black tendrils that formed a variety of long and spindly legs, shifting in number and mass as they repositioned on the rock face, the large torso nearly the size of Izuku itself, and sloped up towards the ‘face’, twisted and swaying spikes rising from its shoulders and spine as it hunted.

 

And as he stepped onto the tiled walkway and looked up, it locked onto him, several gleaming yellow eyes set in the ‘face’ of its mass… and then the music ticked in, linked to the distant speakers of the atrium and blaring down as the pulsing music rose, and crested, a few opening chords and the tap of drumsticks before-

 

~”YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!”

 

As the Nightmare leapt, Izuku was already in motion, sprinting up the steps to get the height even as it crashed to the stone, head tilted to follow him, torso and legs moving independently as the legs twisted and reformed, digging into the stone.

 

~ ”YEAH, YEAH, YEAH YOU COME TAGGING ALONG!”

 

Twisting, Izuku threw his arm out and unloaded with the GLOO up at the monster's face, before cutting off as the Typhon swept an arm out, the mass stretching and swaying as it whipped across the steps where he was running, ripping up the stone and plantlife-

 

~”EXHIBIT A, ON THE TRAY, WHAT YOU SAY? AS I THROW IT IN YOUR FACE.”

 

Izuku kicked off and rolled over the limb with a boost from his propulsion kit, slamming his hand down and spraying GLOO across the arm and hearing the Typhon’s frustrated screech as its limb started to harden and freeze.

 

~” YEAH, EXHIBIT B, WHAT YOU SEE? WELL THAT’S ME, I PUT IT BACK IN YOUR PLACE!”

 

This wasn’t just Izuku learning and adapting, the Neuromods were filling in the gaps, dissecting the moments as muscle memory and subconscious assessment flowed into one.

 

`”YEAH, I DONE IT BEFORE AND I CAN DO IT SOME MORE SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”

 

It was time to put the puzzle together… and that started with sending this fucking Typhon to hell.

 

~”YEAH, I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!”

 

The GLOO was slowing the colossal alien, making its limbs and fluid structure clumsy. As another arm came sweeping out, unsteady and reckless, Izuku tumbled off the steps and slid down, shotgun in one hand as he sprayed a line of Gloo across the Typhon’s legs and lower half, sending the creature stumbling as its shifting balance solidified.

 

~”CAUSE I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE, AND I CAN DO IT SOME MORE, I GOT MY EYE ON THE SCORE”

 

And with the limbs solid- Izuku hit the bottom of the slope and brought the shotgun up .

 

Something was happening inside his mind. The pieces of the Neuromod memories were slotting into place, configuring against each other. Passing out, even if it was because of heart failure, was what he needed. His brain had needed time to fit the pieces together. For the new information to get organized. For muscle memory to settle .

 

~”I’M GONNA CUT TO THE CORE! IT’S TOO LATE? IT’S TOO SOON? OR IS IT-”

 

Four shots in rapid succession blew across the Nightmare’s legs as Izuku sprinted past it, forcing its upper body to twist to try and follow him, its lower half cracking , before-

 

~”TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, BOOM!”

 

With a final blast, the legs were shattered and damaged enough that they couldn’t support the weight, the Typhon slamming into the ground with the force of a car crash, and Izuku was already moving, a recycler charge in the air as it headed for the upper body, while Izuku circled the other way, swapping the empty GLOO canister on his shoulder for a new one.

 

On his face, unconscious and unnoticed, Izuku was grinning.

 

Because he finally felt strong.

 

And as the Nightmare scrambled to rise up, Subject 9 rushed to meet it.

---

Now

A newscaster stands behind a table, his face pale and his eyes wide, the curling horns casting a shadow on his gaunt face. “If you’re just joining us, chaos has erupted across Hosu.”

 

He spoke of evacuation and emergency measures, the deployment of police and medical teams from neighboring districts for immediate relief efforts.

 

But in the corner, minimized as he spoke… a videofeed was playing, orbital views of the district's shopping center engulfed and surrounded by Blue Fire from a distance… scenes of ambulances carrying the injured. 

 

And occasionally, shown between clips of the city, was a fight.

 

And, on the Hosu News Networks website, it was streaming. Unedited. Live feeds from the center of the chaos, as a reporter and camera-man watched in horrified silence as Stain fought Todoroki Shouto… and was winning.

 

“Another Fake in the making aren’t you!”

 

Across Hosu, across Tokyo, and spreading out across Japan, dozens, and then hundreds, and then into the thousands were drawn to watch, to react, to listen in fear and horror as a killer took one life, and held three more in the balance. The stream was recorded, linked, and spread like the wildfire that roared above the fighters… 

 

Live Viewers: 14,533…. And growing.

 

Morbid curiosity and the sheer weight of anticipation drew them in, and horror kept them bound to their seats, watching in dread.

 

They watched as a battered teen threw walls of fire and bright catherine-wheel balls of heat and flame around, as he stood over his father’s slumped body.

 

They watched as the Hero Killer, dark and ragged clothes swaying with his movement, paced and struck out, even as he spoke with a dark and magnetic fervor.

 

A preacher at his bloody pulpit.

 

“All this effort for naught!”

 

And behind it all, just in frame, watching, the League Of Villains were there.

 

Live Viewers: 52,136

 

It took only a single slip up.

 

Todoroki Shouto stumbled, his leg buckling as he tried to adjust, and the tip of a blade slashed open his face.

 

And with a lick, the last of the three were downed.

 

Stain’s laugh was terrifying.

 

A full on roar of laughter, full of brutal vindication.

 

Loud enough that the stream audio capture, impressive as it was, distorted, the sound peaking as it tried to capture it… and then the Killing Intent pushed out.

 

It felt like Blood Splatters, vivid crimson splashing from an open wound, the manic laughter a backdrop to it.

 

The Intent was a dark and vicious thing, the civilians and the medics could only freeze, the world shifting as if holding its breath as Stain paced towards Endeavor…

 

“No More Fake Heroes!”

 

A blade was raised, and across the country people held their breath. They cried out in fear and worry, afraid of the bloodlust and killing intent echoing through the image, through the video feed. They prayed for someone, anyone, to do something. 

 

For a moment, the image of an Era of Peace, of the world that All Might had spearheaded into existence, cracked …

 

But, it didn’t break.

 

Because someone answered.

 

There was a screech . 

 

Sounds can carry emotions, can carry intent. Before speech, before language, sound was the way to warn another. 

 

And the screech was filled with those warnings. Pain, Fear, Hate…. all echoing through the sound.

 

And then, there was the piercing sound of a gunshot, punctuating the air with the threat the screech had carried .

 

Stain flinched, turning away, looking up- as above, the sky of blue flames flickered and vanished.

 

In the cloud of smoke still left, the dark sky that suddenly cast the district into shadows lit now only by burning trash and the mundane flames that engulfed some of the nearby storefronts and kiosks, the sun hidden behind the clouds and smoke and smog… What was once a brightly lit battlefield was suddenly dark.  

 

A second screech.

 

The camera panned up, the crowds twisting and searching, and even Stain slowly looking around.

 

(“He’s coming.” Tomura whispered, something like anticipation blooming in his chest… Incredulous but vindicated. His Player Two was coming.)

 

For a long, quiet, moment…

 

The plaza could only wait.

 

Wait for the sound… for a sign… for a change.

 

Then, above the plaza, it happened.

 

The Nomu burst through the smoke screaming.

 

A wingspan of nearly ten meters that was smoking and burning, embers of burned flesh still gleaming with heat, snapped and fraying lines that were alight with flame banked by the speed of the Nomu's travel… of its descent. At the front, a snarling metallic maw of artificial jaw and beak was thrashing and shrieking, an exposed brain steaming and charred from the flames, eyes wide, unfocused and manic . Its wings were pulled back, angled almost like a broken mockery of a dive, barely able to flex against the pull of gravity and the rush of air…

 

And there, standing on its back, trailing flames, was a cloaked figure, head tucked low and cloak fluttering with the speed of the descent. Hands reached out and gripped the hooked ‘thumbs’ of the wings, pulling them back and keeping them braced, allowing only the barest of direction as the creature fell from the sky, the rest of that outer cloak burned and ragged revealing gleaming metal links that shone underneath glowing embers.

 

For a split second, there was surprise, confusion. But that was interrupted by sheer chaos.

 

Because Nomu did not slow in its descent through the flames.

 

It did not pull up, it merely sped up .

 

And when it hit, it was in a dive bomb aimed at the mass of slumped bodies and the victorious Hero Killer.

 

Stain dodged with a lunge, rolling to a crouch as the mass of the Nomu slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch , before sliding forwards, the mass picking up and dragging the still slumped form of Endeavor as it tumbled and twisted across the concrete, a trail of blood and the snap of broken limbs and torn flesh the only sound as it’s screeching was cut off..

 

Silence rang out, the camera desperately adjusting to take in the scene.

 

For years to come, people would remember the following moment. It would be debated, would be called in as evidence, would be lauded as proof that one teenager was dangerous…. And argued by others that it showed that the same teenager was a hero.

 

But a few would note a shocking similarity.

 

The darkness and smoke only lit by the surrounding flames.

The sensation of hopelessness that dissipated as a lone figure rose.

 

Perhaps, a comment in the future would sum it up the best.

 

‘ Perhaps he did not carry survivors and laugh like All Might at his debut…’

 

The Nomu twitched, trying its best to recover, to move-

 

A sickening ‘ thunk’ ended the attempt, sending the Nomu slumping once more, boneless.

 

But as its head and body went limp, the cause of its death was revealed from behind its shoulders and wings. 

 

A hand clasped around the hilt of a sword was revealed, the blade gleaming with the light of the flames, the dark red blood streaked across the metal, and the crossguard distinctively western in shape.

 

And there, rising above the slumped body of the Nomu, the rider rose up, using the blade to pull himself free from the corpse..

 

The cloak was pinned, caught on some twisted piece of flesh, and with a smooth brush of a hand to the collar and mask, it fell free, revealing gleaming burnished armor and splatters of dried blood, the vivid green visor flickering on as from above the felled beast, oh-so-visually similar to and yet grotesquely distinct from the dragons or monsters of fable, a darker brand of knight rose.

 

And his first words rang out like a curse, layered with venom and something dark .  

 

It was Grief.

 

It was Pain.

It was Hatred.

 

It was… Resignation.

 

“We aren’t done, Stain.”

 

‘ -But he was announcing himself in much the same way.’

Live Viewers: 112,969

 

‘He was telling us “I Am Here.”’

Chapter 57: Respect the One V. One

Summary:

Those Who Live By The Sword...

Are Destined To Die By The Sword.

Now

Izuku exhaled and took a moment to take in the plaza around him. The sky above was filled with black clouds and the air dense with clouds of smoke and slowly drifting ash and soot. The heat remained  even after the flames had died out, the air dry and suffocating even through his mask.

 

Endeavor was sprawled limp, either unconscious or merely paralyzed, laying limply on his side. Unfortunately, the hero had been pushed aside in the crash, with one arm twisted poorly, but from his assessment it looked merely dislocated. Shouto and Burnin were spread out near him… but it seemed that Shouto had been trying to herd the killer away, considering the crouched and wary form of Stain nearly opposite the direction of the slumped heroes from Izuku’s chosen crash site.

 

Good. One less problem.

 

Adjusting his grip, Izuku snapped his arm wide- and the blade cleaved out through the neck and spine of the Nomu. Once last confirmation that the body was dead . 

 

Bloody sword held out, Izuku stepped down onto scorched concrete, before flicking the blood away and lowering his blade, letting the tip trail just inches from the ground as he glanced around once more.

 

His gaze locked on Shigaraki- and the barrel of his gun followed, rising from his side and sighting on the villain and his teleporter.

 

“Shigaraki.”

 

The villain merely tilted his head, a manic twitch to his face the only sign of emotion. “Revenant… So kind of you to join us.”

 

Izuku merely glanced away, looking over Kurogiri- smoke swirling and ready to respond to a gunshot, and then nodded towards the roof. “Don’t you have a companion to go save?”

 

Shigaraki jolted slightly, and then gave a manic chuckle under his breath.

 

“So scary … But yes. I’ll respect the… one on one. Kurogiri, to the roof-”

 

With a swirl of purple, the two League members vanished-

 

And Revenant twirled and locked blades with Stain as he lunged from the side, where he had been stalking closer, trying for a classic blindspot.

 

“As for you, Stain-” with a twist, he slammed the butt of his gun into the man’s shoulder, over a bandage where he had shot the man not even a half-hour earlier, breaking the lock and sending the killer staggering past him, hand pressed to his shoulder over the red bleeding through the bandage.

 

Stepping away for distance he slid the gun back into its holster, eyes tracing over the camera nearby before he turned and looked at the feral killer, at the way Stain’s shoulders hunched and his teeth bared. The killer was tense and frenetic with energy. It seemed Izuku interrupted a finishing blow, what a fucking shame. But if Stain was going to be tense… Izuku gave a nearly bored roll of his shoulders and he let the mask fold back down to show his eyes. He kept the speaker on but cut the ‘static’ effect for a moment.

 

“-I could have sworn you needed a blood transfusion when we parted earlier.”

 

‘We have an audience. This needs to be… Clean.’

 

He hated playing for a watcher. He had been forced to do it in Bioshock often enough for the likes of Cohen, Fontaine, and Lamb, their unseen eyes watching and forcing him to hide aces up his sleeves. The Chat had been something he could ignore more often than not, it’s the AI that would ruin his fucking day.

 

But he could play to the crowd.

 

So what rules should he set; No gun unless he got the official ‘Kill’ order. Don’t go for the killing blow. Maybe keep up some banter.

 

Annoying, but he could deal… The wave of killing intent coming off of Stain redoubled and Izuku tilted his head, meeting manic red eyes.

 

The killing intent rushed out, a rain of blood that splattered carelessly across the crowd, making people flinch and curl away from the conflict, the wave of the crowd reacting to a visible shift in Izuku's peripheral vision. Leaking the intent like a burst pipe, Stain reached up, and dragged a second katana from his back, both blades held in white-knuckled grips as he snarled in Izuku’s direction, the chipped and ragged blades showing less wear than the original katana, even as the two edges scraped past as Stain rose them into a stance.

 

“A Bloody monster in Heroic scraps. I’ll just have to kill you, to strip your mantle away.”

 

Izuku’s lips twitched under the mask, his eyes crinkling slightly. Unseen to the cameras, he smiled.

 

But there was No Joy There.

 

His hand clenched tighter on the hilt of his sword, his green eyes nearly glowing with sheer fucking hate. He remembered the bodies. The bloodied streets. The scattered Nomu, tossed about for maximum carnage for no reason but to distract .

 

He thought of the corpses of heroes. The bodies of civilians. The scent of burned flesh that even now lingered in the air. The fact that under the monsters he had slain, corpses of innocent men and women were all but dead as they hosted the monstrous forms.

 

‘Oh that’s right. I nearly forgot just how Fucking. Angry. I. Am .’

 

“Oh, Stain . ” He twirled Blight-Killer in his grip, forcing him to unclench and loosen white knuckles as he re-aligned his grip, his left hand sliding back along his belt, drawing the parry dagger from its sheath tucked along the back of his hip, the gleaming white rounded spike a contrast to the dark rippling colors of the smoke filled sky reflecting off Blight-killer. Triggering his mask, it unfolded, hiding his eyes behind a green lens once more as he leveled his sword at the Hero-Killer.

 

 “ Worse Monsters than You have Tried.”

 

And then Izuku let his Killing Intent free.

 

“They tend to Die First.”

 

And the World Became Heavy .

---

Then

The Nightmare twisted, cracking frozen limbs and ripping apart black flesh twisting and flexing as it clawed after Izuku- but compared to the threat it once held, it was a shadow of its own self.

 

Legs shredded and lost to explosives and its own weight, ripped apart flesh and large cracked patches of its body held and bound in white foam-

 

Izuku slid a new shell home into his shotgun and leveled it at the nightmare, racking the gun as he took aim- and fired again.

 

The Typhon’s ‘face’, in so much as it possessed, splattered. Several of its white eyes bursting as it screamed- Another shell, and it finally began to truly falter, its cohesive mass unweaving as the driving force was eliminated.

 

As its lower half began to soak the tiles of the walkway, flowing into the very cracks it had caused across paving stones. With one last surge, it tried to lash out- and Izuku planted his boot into its face, caving in black mass and pinning its remaining head and torso to the cobblestones.

 

“Goodbye.”

 

A final blast rang out- and the Typhon splattered across the floor.

 

“And good riddance.”

 

Kicking the remains of the head away, Izuku began to reload once more, sliding more shells home to fill the weapon’s magazine, even as his eyes roamed up the path and around the Arboretum.

 

“Now… I need to get over to Deep Storage-”

 

Instinct and the gleam of bright light to his side had him ducking, and cursing as a fireball shot past him, splashing across the Nightmare’s corpse.

 

Racking the weapon, Izuku turned and focused on the gleaming fire-wreathed phantom up the steps nearby.

 

“Right, of course the Nightmare wasn’t alone-” Twisting, he sprinted away as columns of heat and fire began to bloom underfoot, arm rising and trigger depressing as a wave of foam sprayed from his Gloo Gauntlet across the fire and at the phantom. “Cause why would anything ever be easy.”

 

As the Typhon screamed at the presence of the Gloo, Izuku sprinted up the side of the steps, vaulting the railing and flicking the shotgun up to take aim- with a blast, the phantom was knocked back, where another finished it off, leaving a greasy stain across the steps, covered in melting foam.

---

Now

The Hero-Killer’s intent had been overwhelming. 

 

Stain’s mania, his rage, his hate- it had splashed and dyed the world red, had forced heroes and first responders to take a step back- had made the wounded and horrified civilians cower.

 

It was terrifying. A bloody rain that made everyone present feel marked, judged, found wanting.

 

For many, Heroes and Civilians alike, it had been something they had never faced, and had been beyond their experiences.

 

And then, with the raising of a sword- it was utterly surpassed.

 

When Midoriya Izuku let his Intent off its leash, when he stopped holding it back, bottling and chaining it under his skin, hiding it under the slow pumping of his blood and the dark spaces in his chest-

 

There was only Silence and Pressure.

 

Sounds faded away- colors bled and darkened and went faint- Several civilians fainted, and even among the rest they found it hard to breathe.

 

Stain was a rainfall. A torrential storm.

 

Midoriya Izuku was the darkest part of the ocean.

 

It was the unfathomable weight of Grief. Of Rage . Of Pain.

 

Piled higher and higher, ice cold and heavy, all other emotions were hidden and pushed aside under the rising tide of intent.

 

It didn’t merely pour and soak the watchers, it sent them to their knees. The Cameraman barely caught himself by locking his joints, the reporter staggering out of frame as her mic dropped from numb fingers, only caught by a loop around her wrist- 

 

But for all that the crowd, the audience, to this engagement were suffocated under this intent- none of them could look away.

 

None of them would dare .

 

All eyes could only watch as bloody red and emerald green clashed. People refused to blink until eyes watered and stung- they forced their breathing to resume when chests burned.

 

But they couldn’t let their attention waver.

 

It was instinct.

 

You don’t look away from a threat .

 

And for all that the oceanic weight of Midoriya Izuku’s Intent washed the rest of the world away- it only made the fighting more intense.

 

Because they could see it. 

 

Because the world could see it.

 

Stain, the Hero-Killer, who had almost slain the number two hero in the country on live TV, was terrified.

 

He held two rough edged katanas, white knuckled grips swinging with a frenzy that looked almost animalistic. It would have torn through most heroes, would have ripped through armor and skin and sent heroes spraying blood from the sheer overwhelming assault.

 

The Revenant didn’t retreat from it.

 

He dove in.

 

Longsword met katana and both deflected- but the second met a parry of a slender dagger, twisted out of line as the swords clashed once more-

 

And when Revenant began to talk, the world was forced to listen.

---

Then

“Locked. Of course it’s locked.”

 

Izuku looked up from the door to deep storage with a sigh. “I need a voice file too. Not just a key. Great.” He closed his eyes and then pulled out his transcribe, connecting to January.

“Greetings, Midoriya-”

 

“Cut the shit. The voice you use, that’s mine. Send me the emulation software you’re running to match voices.” Izuku stepped out from the awning, and glanced at the signs nearby, seeing ‘Crew Quarters’ to his right , down near the elevators and ahead of him… Alex’s office.

 

“ Understood. Please hold on.”

 

As the operator processed the file, Izuku closed the transcribe and looked at the centerpiece of the Arboretum once more.

 

Alex Yu’s office, the big tacky asian art deco structure sitting above all else in the Arboretum.

 

The grav-lift before it was shut off- but those devices weren’t exactly a smooth featureless passage. There were plenty of handholds built into the shaft, and rings of gravity generators around the outer edge.

 

And with a bit of a running start-

 

Well. Why explain when he can just do it?

 

Izuku shook out his arms and sprinted at the shaft, his last step shooting him up nearly a meter and a half, before his foot connected with the shaft and his hands got a grip on a ledge- and he launched himself halfway up the disabled lift with one smooth movement and a flare of his jets, before reaching out and catching his hands on a thin ridge of metal, feet bracing against the shaft walls. 

 

After that, the last few meters were a piece of cake.

 

In under twenty seconds he was pulling himself over the lip of the shaft and onto the walkway that led to Alex’s office.

 

“Alex Yu! Are you here?”

 

Izuku clapped his hands, getting the faint dust off them, walking across the catwalk towards the modern-asian designed office.

 

“Because if you are, I have fucking questions.”

 

Reaching the door, he pushed it open to reveal a sitting room, extravagantly decorated with gold and brass fitting and darkly stained wooden furniture.

 

But no Alex.

 

“Of course not.”

 

Izuku glanced around and let loose a sigh, before seeing a gleam on the desk along the back wall.

 

Alex’s desk.

 

There sitting dead center, was a Neuromod.

 

As he stepped closer, Izuku slowed and read the label.

 

‘IM-2 Firearms.2'

 

“If you think for a moment that this is enough to buy me off… You’re wrong. I’ll be back Alex, and when I return I want fucking answers. And If you won’t tell me, I know Morgan will.”

 

The silence was deafening, but as Izuku turned away, he couldn’t help but feel the air… shift.

 

Someone was watching, and he bet good money it was Alex and Morgan both.

 

A beep and he checked his transcribe. There was the voice editing software… and the last known location of one Danielle Sho.

 

‘Crew Quarters. Of course.’

---

Now

The ringing of swords did nothing to drown out the words of Revenant. If anything, they merely accented it. Punctuation unlike any other as he made his point.

 

"You go on and on about fake heroes, about idols. About masks."

 

Stain snarled as he was harried back, the words and swords etching a cage of intent. Even with two blades that Stain swung and tried to chase and catch the teen, Revenant was simply better , his sword and dagger dancing between lashing katanas, forcing Stain into awkward angles where only one blade could lash out, the other forced back awkwardly.

 

"From where I'm standing, you're no better."

 

With a slamming of metal on metal, Revenant locked his dagger against one of Stain’s swords, the crossguard twisted around the curved metal as he shoved it across, into the path of his other blade, making Stain stutter and adjust for a half beat- plenty of time for Revenant to talk.

 

"What. Were you rejected? Fail your entrance exam because of optics? Or did you get into a Hero School… and then just not make the cut.” The blades disengaged and slashed outwards, but Revenant deflected both strikes, twisting around the katanas even as he drew a line of blood across one of Stain’s shoulders with the riposte, the man back stepping from a follow up, blades weaving around him as he retreated, his entire body tense with lines of frustration. Of rage. “And of course, you couldn’t take the blame for your failures. A kid, throwing a fucking Tantrum because people don't like his quirk."

 

And there it was. A roar, Stain pushed forward blade first and began to thrash the edges. Any trace of artistry was gone, lost in the sheer focused rage as he swung his blades with no consideration for defense, no consideration for fluidity. A berserk rage.

 

“YOU KNOW NOTHING!”

 

And as the blades lashed out, Revenant danced through them like raindrops, twirling and backstepping and ducking and weaving as he let Stain rage.

 

“I DEDICATED MY LIFE! MY HEART AND SOUL TO THIS SOCIETY, ONLY TO FIND IT WAS CORRUPT TO THE CORE.”

 

A twisted clash, the blades striking out, separated them, Stain all but growling as he panted, blood dripping from a new slash across his thigh, while Revenant flexed his left arm, a singular gouged line traced across his armored bracer.

 

“So I decided to change the system. To Purge those rotten fakes. If they could not stand without blemish, then they deserve to not stand at all.”

 

For a long moment, there was only the tense silence of the dead and dying.

 

And then, a huff of bitter amusement.

 

From Revenant.

 

"You go on and on about Fake Idols, and yet you were so desperate you made your own. 'The Hero Killer Stain'? It’s all so fucking fake. A face to hide just how hurt some little boy was. You found out that perfection doesn’t exist, that your Idols were just… Human. "

 

Stain could only stare in incredulous mania as Revenant laughed , choked off and quiet under his mask.

 

But then the lens of the masked focused back on Stain, and the killer couldn’t help the wave of… dismissal. Of sheer fucking pity that rocked him to the core.

 

“What a pathetic story.”

 

Stain roared as he launched forwards, blinded by sheer fury . Incoherent Rage .

 

The leading blade was deflected, the tip of Blight-Killer knocking the notched katana blade up- and the parry dagger slid along the length of the second with a spray of sparks as Stain’s lunge drew him in close… but a twist brought the second blade out of line, the edge skating harmlessly against reinforced material under his arm, overextending just so that Revenant could twist his left arm up and over the grip, slamming his fist and the pommel of the dagger into Stain's face like a hammer from God, the impact sending a spray of blood and sweat into the dark air. The killer staggered as Midoriya twisted closer and followed up, left arm locked around Stain’s right grip-

 

Fist to the solar plexus, driving the killer’s breath from his lungs, before releasing his grip to hook the dulled edge of the parry blade behind his neck and yank-

 

The kneepad of his suit cracked dead center on the stitched cut that he had delivered only half an hour earlier, the force of the knee separating Hero-Killer and Stream Survivor.

 

‘Could have been a sword through his heart. But There Are Cameras, remember the Audience.’

 

Stain staggered back and slipped dazed and coughing, blood dripping from the chest of his outfit, staining the ground and dripping down across his face and from his reopened chest wound. The killer's chest heaving for lost breath as Revenant looked on dispassionately.

 

With a negligent tilt of his head, he let the mask fold away once more. 

 

"Take the mask off Stain, come out and play. You have a name, don’t you? I want to hear you say it."

 

Stain heaved another breath, blood trickling from his scars and a freshly ripped open lip and cut across his jaw as he staggered up.

 

The words were mumbled, but Izuku grinned, the draw of his lips sly . Nearly amused .

 

"Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What, are you shy? "

 

A whirl of blades and Stain was swinging . A pair of twin overhand strikes that could have cut someone into thirds. But his blades pressed caught and down on Revenant’s snapped up guard, an eerie sense of deja vu regarding the movement- but unlike the USJ, his current sword was up to the task of taking two swords at once- But there, locked face to face, the killer spoke two words, laced with intent so thick that Izuku could feel the pressure it put on him.

 

"Akaguro. CHIZOME."

 

The words themselves were hissed, barely spoken , but the intent that wreathed him, the metaphysical weight of Stain’s Existence, of his Drive , pushed down on Izuku.

 

And Izuku could only exhale , dark and satisfied. And then, without his mask, eyes gleaming green, he spoke with his own Intent . Eyes locked on Stain’s face, on his body, on the story that was now visible wreathing his body and stretching back.

 

Bloodstains dripping from his form that were only present as Memory. As Ideals. A vision formed by understanding.

 

And Stain could only stare with wide eyes as the air rippled, and instead of a boy, a teen barely into puberty, Stain met the glowing green eyes of A Monster. Decaying and scarred flesh, blood and pain rising across his form, taking shape into a hunter...

 

The Revenant grinned, cruel teeth closing around the two of them, a shared hallucination only the Killer could see. "There you are."

 

And with a twist- there was Blood.

---

Then

Izuku blinked and wiped away a drop of blood from where it dripped down his cheek, rubbing the thin scratch from a chunk of glass that had been shattered his way. After exiting Alex’s office, he had used the Neuromod before moving on, and after even just a single fight he was very glad he did.

 

While the first Firearms neuromod had memories and reflexes with the handguns and pistols of the station, this one focused on the shotgun. Keeping track of shells, how to aim and space and brace the butt of the firearm- all things he understood before from his time on Sevastapol, he now knew far more intrinsically. And beyond that… it was about tactical applications. A shotgun was useful at range… but it was also more than half a meter of metal and reinforced polymer and could be used in hand to hand.

 

As the memories continued to filtered in, as neurons connected and flashed between points, things that had merely been understood as theory were now refined to habit. Tactics and knowledge distilled into Instinct .

 

Twisting the shotgun around once more, Izuku felt as more of the memories started to bleed and settle, the blur as new information and old connected and aligned. His stance smoothed out, his hands felt more natural as he gripped and adjusted the shotgun, lowering it to a resting position across his torso as he topped off the magazine tube.

 

Good.

 

Hefting the shotgun once more after sliding the last shell into the tube he almost unconsciously slid a shell into the chamber, habit guiding him as the concept of ‘8+1’ flickered through his mind.

 

The magazine tube could hold eight rounds, but the chamber could be manually loaded for a 9th.

 

Always be extra-ready for a fight.

 

Sliding his shotgun back over his shoulder, Izuku adjusted his strap and positioning slightly- and stepped out of the security office before the entrance to the crew quarters.

 

At his feet, the wrecks of a pair of operators sparked and burned, and the splatter of a mimic was kicked down from the top of the stairs. Grimacing, he heard the cry of a phantom echo up the open stairwell, the grand staircase doubling back around a fountain before leading to the crew quarters themselves.

 

He had to fight this one. 

 

Breathing in, he paused halfway down the first flight, and put his hand on the rail.

 

‘You know… this worked well last time.’

 

And twisting, he threw himself over the railing, and at the Phantom.

---

Now

Tomura stepped out of Kurogiri’s mist with a frown as he took in his second newest recruit.

 

“Dabi.”

 

The scarred man glanced up. His face was lined with fresh blisters around his already blackened skin, his staples warped from heat, the area round them still smoking as the metal seared the skin around his neck and jawline, burns and blisters only made all the more prominent by the smear of blood across his face and the paleness of his skin. “Get fucked, Boss.” Tomura couldn’t quite blame him for his gritted teeth response. 

 

Because Revenant’s fly by attack had taken him out at the knee.

 

Dried and smoking blood and fragments of bone were visible, painting the ground around Dabi, already sterilized by the villain's quirk, judging by the scorch marks and the bubbling as blood boiled away. Beyond that, the ragged trench coat had been ripped away from the waist down, the bundle wrapped tightly around his blown-out knee, the dark cloth glistening with the wet blood.

 

“Kurogiri, get him to the doctor.” As the mist moved to respond, swallowing the fire-user even as he swore in pain at the sudden jostle, Shigaraki was changing for a better view of the game. It only took a few long steps to the edge of the building to resume watching the ‘Duel’ far below, where Midoriya Izuku and Akaguro Chizome clashed, blades meeting with only the flare of sparks and focused skill.

 

From above, however, Shigaraki could only narrow his eyes.

 

Because from above he could see it, clearly as any top down arena fighter.

 

Stain was losing.

 

Being pushed back, towards the scorched and ash covered ground between the still burning Nomu corpses, the Hero-Killer, for all his Frenzy , was not able to beat the killer before him. Oh, Midoriya let Stain push, let the killer advance , but it was always at Revenant’s direction, twisting and swirling around each other.

Even Stain’s furious rage, the swings of berzerker intent and murderous focus, were visibly in the path of distrubed and kicked up ash, circling across the plaza away from civillians and downed heroes alike.

 

But then, Tomura heard the distant sounds, so focused , and yet just too far for him to truly hear.

 

However… that tone rang true, the echo of what he had heard .

 

Mocking. Inquisitive. Just a touch sardonic.

 

Tomura couldn’t help the manic touch that pulled his lips, the memory of rage and then searing pain flickering through his skull, the ghostflame of his right eye itching .

 

‘Stain, you fool. You let him Know you.’

 

And then, as he watched, a splash of red interrupted the black and gray of ash.

 

“Well Fuck. Kurogiri, get back here and prepare to extract Stain.”

---

Then

Izuku wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he entered the crew quarters. Perhaps… bunks? Smaller bedrooms? Maybe some form of common room-

 

Instead he stepped into the lobby of what could have passed as a high end hotel. Gleaming golden and black accents, gleaming polished wood paneling, a central hall that stretched high and long, ending at another pair of Gravity Lifts and a small service kiosk.

 

It was so… Grand.

 

And it was also going to be a nightmare to clear.

 

Just looking at the directory showed a movie theater, a communal recreation room, a full bar and club on an upper level, and a full food court and restaurant- and that was before any of the actual residential areas that stretched out to the far side of the area. And half the rooms looped back to the main hall in some form or another.

 

As Izuku ducked around a corner, he glanced past the central hall and noticed… purple haze .

 

A flash of memory, an itch of recollection, and with a snap of movement he dragged the Psychoscope down, the targeting array locking on the distant purple haze- and a crewmate staggering from the residential area towards the lobby.

 

“Mind Control Detected.”

 

The memories were there, linked into medical treatment… and his memories of hand to hand.

 

‘A good shock can put them out like a light… and if they aren’t awake, then the Telepath can’t direct them.’

Right, so what the fuck was a telepath… and where was it.

 

Reaching down to his belt, Izuku holstered his handgun and set the shotgun across his back, pulled the electric-modified axe and his remaining stun gun.

 

“Stealthy, slow, and steady. Name of the game.”

 

Breathing deep and slow, Izuku began to hunt.

---

Now

Before there was Stain… there was only Akaguro Chizome.

 

Growing up, Chizome had been an energetic kid, had been focused and driven to be a hero… and even at a young age he had viewed the world in black and white.

 

There is Good and Evil.

 

Nothing else.

 

And there, the pinnacle of good, shining like an Icon in his heart and soul… Was All Might.

 

None could compare, though he thought many others came close!

 

When, as a teenager, he had fought and suffered to join a Hero Course, had worked until his hands ached, had exercised until he could triumph over any obstacle… he kept the ideal of All Might above all else. He rose up against any challenge, feeling confident that if he kept All Might in his mind, in his heart, then no challenge would be too much!

 

So he was caught off guard when he was suddenly told that he was too scary to be a hero, that he had to change to be successful .

 

He had been told this before. Blood quirks, regardless of how clean or mundane, had a reputation . But this wasn’t some random person judging him without cause.

 

It was his teachers. His classmates…

 

It was the exams. The very classes .

 

On and on they went. About publicity . About Appearance . Chizome couldn’t help but wonder… where was the drive to save? Where was the instruction on how to help people?

 

Emboldened by his dream, by his ideals, Chizome asked questions… and in response he was punished. As if he was the problem! 

 

For months, he tried… and he tried so hard.

 

But as his first year closed out, and as the teachers praised the most vain of his classmates… Chizome could not stand the hypocrisy and he left.

 

He kept trying. He brought his message, his views, and stood at corners preaching, he posted across forums and comment threats… He spoke of the Revival Of Heroics, of the issues with the modern system, the corruption that was ‘ Public Relations’ in the field of saving people.

 

And was ignored.

 

It was days later, delving through old books on philosophy, that he paused on yet another quote.

 

‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ 

 

In his fury, in his devotion to his Ideals , he dedicated himself to his body. For a decade, he focused solely on sharpening his skills… and beyond what he had learned as a Hero student… he learned to Kill.

 

And when he was ready, he donned a mask and the name of Stendhal. A vigilante, one who hunted  Villain's… But this was short lived.

 

Because he found that Vigilantes were not enough. Killing  Villain's was not enough.

 

Only the death of the Heroes would create change.

 

As Stendhal was scarred by the vigilante known as Knuckleduster, the shards of a mask ripping into his face, his nose ruined beyond salvation…

 

Stain was born.

 

And he would bring about a Revival Of Heroics, by killing the Fakes who stood in its way.

---

Then

Another Thrall’d crew member was yanked into a corner, the electrical contacts of the axe pressed to exposed neck as Izuku pulled them down and settled the body in the recovery position.

 

‘That’s four down.’ With lethal force out of the option, Izuku had delved back into the tricks he had picked up in Sevastopol. Glass bottles, a few random books, and a bit of noise was enough to drag the mind controlled crew out of whatever routines they had been locked in, the human bombs sent out to scavange for anyone else, murmuring with blank purple eyes. The stun gun had been enough to drop them with one direct shot, or a few seconds of holding the axe to expose skin knocked them loose.

 

But, he also now knew where he was going to find the telepath.

 

Creeping from the downed crew member, he came to a stop at the edge of the reception desk for the mess hall. Taking a slow breath, he glanced around the corner towards the mess hall- and couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

 

‘Right, opulent 5 star restaurant. Why not.’ He glanced over the large central area of tables and a raised podium with a piano on display, filled with almost a dozen crew members, all affected by that same haze of mind control. Of Psionic effect. Beyond the central area, there was a raised second floor that circled along the edge of the station, windows looking out into space.

 

And floating around the grand chandelier in the center, hovering like a chthonic nightmare, was a mass of floating tentacles that hung and floated around a central glowing eye.

 

As his psychoscope traced over it… his transcribe buzzed with new data.

 

‘ Typhon Psychocratis: Codename Telepath’

‘Derived from the same core-like tendrils as a Mimic, these advanced Typhon are the direct result of Weaver creation and modification. Testing has demonstrated a potency with Psi energy and the ability to cause concussion-like effects through exposure to its attacks. Warning: All testing requires Psychoscope protection.’

 

Izuku leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.

 

‘Right, I need to deal with the Telepath without drawing the other crew members into this… or I need to take out all the crew members before they become walking landmines.’

 

Reaching down, Izuku tapped along the ‘throwable’ devices he had access to.

 

‘EMP, Psi-disruptors, Recycler Charges…’ pausing he lifted one of the small canisters he had snagged down in psychotronics. He hadn’t had much reason to use them yet, but now…

 

“Typhon Lure…”

 

Izuku tossed it up gently, catching it as the pieces slowly fit together. Glancing around, he headed back into the main hall and glanced around.

‘There was a storage room…. There, upstairs by the entrance.’

 

He nodded and knelt to lift the first incapacitated crew member over his shoulder.

 

“Right, all of you need to be out of my line of fire. This next part is going to be loud.”

---

Now

‘No… No, this can’t be happening! I can’t lose! Not Here! Not Again! My Revival of Heroics! It was so close!’

 

These words rang in the heart of the Hero-Killer Stain.

 

Nothing was how it was supposed to go. He was so close , the Rebirth Of Heroics was Here. All he needed was to kill the greatest of the fakes, the second place, to put fear into the hearts of all the pretenders -

 

But that smile scared him.

 

“There you are.”

 

He was pressing his blades down with all his might, his entire body weight and speed backing the pair of blades as he tried to Cleave This Brat’s Head From His Shoulders.

 

But even now, the sword under his blades… was unmoving. Unyielding.

 

And as green eyes looked up- there was something consuming about them. Echoed in the warp of the air, as hallucinations grew and shifted around them...

 

Green eyes met Stain’s, and suddenly he felt like he was made of glass.

 

As if everything he was made of and everything he was had been laid bare. Was dissected down to the smallest choice and imperfection.

 

It was if… as if he was falling into an emerald void, filled with eyes that dissected him to the very core, that flayed and stripped him of all his justifications…

 

Akaguro Chizome was found Wanting , and the deep green eyes blinked, breaking the trance… but before they were inquisitive, they opened Cold-

 

-the movement was lightning fast, the hallucination of Intent echoing the movement even as the action was concluded.

 

But to Akaguro Chizome, as he slipped, as the edges moved… time felt so slow.

 

The twist of the sword, the katanas skating down the edge from his own applied force, sparks flying from hardened steel as it skated across the edge- the weight he had been pressing down slipping , only for the parry dagger to catch and flick the blades to the teen’s left, and away- and for the sword to twist back up- and around the guard of Stain’s left sword’s tsuba-

 

And then Revenant cut.

 

Slipping past the first finger, it caught the edge of his hand, Revenant twisting around the hand, dragging the sword… almost as an afterthought.

 

A bloody line traced from between index finger and middle finger… and back. The blade split through the back of his hand- split through his wrist , traced a line up- and then ripped the tip of his sword along the traced line.

 

And Stain could only scream as his left arm split. The Ulna and Radius bones suddenly finding themselves separated from each other.

 

The katana dropped from his suddenly nerveless left hand- and the arm up to his elbow separated into two flailing bloody halves.

 

Screaming he twisted, ignoring the sickening slap of flesh loose and unsupported as he tried to swing his remaining Katana, to draw blood, to get vindication.

 

Revenant was already out of range, his eyes watching with… detachment at Stain’s wounds. Green crystal that could have been mistaken for ice sitting in the deepest depths of the ocean.

 

And when he spoke… It was almost conversational. “You killed seventeen Heroes before today.”

 

Stain could barely focus, the pain of his arm screaming at him as he flew into a frenzy. He stepped forwards- blade rising over his shoulder before he stepped forwards and cleaved the blade down- only for Midoriya to step In.

 

In his left hand, movement smooth and perfect , the parry dagger was flipped to a reverse grip, braced along his forearm as the katana blade slammed in and caught .

 

His left arm did not budge, the blade caught against gleaming white metal of the spiral shaped blade and backed by the thick metallic bracer, the downward force braced down and across Revenant’s stance, power driven not into flesh but through boots into unyielding concrete .

 

Panicking, Stain swung his now destroyed arm around, splattering fresh blood forwards, trying to make the teen flinch, to make him stop staring with that cold look.

 

“You crippled another twenty-four.”

 

A flash of the blade snaked out- a snap of metal that didn’t stop at flesh and bone- and the air was filled with a fresh spray of blood.

 

Stain howled, staggering back, his remaining katana abandoned as he clutched at the stump of his upper arm… because the damaged lower limb was now tossed carelessly aside, cut cleanly through the Humerus bone.

 

Revenant stepped forwards… and Chizome staggered back , clutching the stump as he stared.

 

The white dagger was gone, tucked away behind his back before Revenant reached up and wiped a splatter of blood from his left eye. The teen hadn’t even flinched. And even now, as the red was drawn away by a gloved thumb, leaving a streak of crimson stretching away from the left eye as he opened it, he hadn’t looked away.

 

“Today… you’ve outdone all of those crimes.” Midoriya stopped and looked past Stain. “Even your message is worthless. And it’s all because you sided with him .”

 

The slow clap drew Stain’s attention for the first time, and he noticed that he was now surrounded by a cirrus of dark smoke that rose and swirled…

 

And behind him, Shigaraki Tomura stood and clapped, grinning wide, the misty clouds of his teleporter rising from the ash.

 

“What a show .”

 

And then, before Chizome could even speak up- the mist rushed over him.

 

All he could see before he was dragged away was Revenant’s cold green eyes…

 

Looking past him. Locked on the League Of Villains.

 

“I WILL KILL YOU ONE DAY, FAKE!”

 

Green eyes slid to him… and Stain couldn’t help the way it set his blood boiling .

 

For those green eyes were only filled with disdain.

 

The mist swirled tight- and Stain was gone. Sitting alone in the League’s base, the medical supplies he had used once before still laid out before him. Even as the door opened and the League’s doctor stepped up to work on his fresh wounds, Stain could only remember those green eyes.

 

And he could only feel hate.

Chapter 58: Raid Boss

Summary:

Took a while to get this all together... and this is now the longest LiD chapter yet.

Hosu does not die quietly...

But there may be hope in the air.

Now

There are memories that are hard to forget… There are memories that linger, that itch, that creep up on you in those quiet moments, or come only in specific moods.

 

Midoriya Izuku had a deeper reserve of those memories than most. They were etched into his bones, printed across flesh and encoded along his nerves. He had earned those memories with spite and blood and death. He had written them with pain and grief and the sheer hate of someone with a vendetta to fulfill.

 

He inhaled slowly and felt them rise: the dead memories that haunted his form, mirrors and echoes of the moment, stretching out behind him… centered on familiar sensations.

 

The scent of ash. - Sharper and more distinct than the emulations, but with that same acrid tange, the scent of burning flesh and scorched earth.

 

The way smoke hung and drifted in the air. - Fights where the flames and haze blinded him, that he choked on heat and the taste of ash.

 

The weight of a sword that dripped with blood, fractions of an ounce lost with each drop-  the way his grip tightened and flexed as he dragged it along, his body torn and shredded from war, but not yet free to rest and heal.

 

Even as Stain vanished, taken by the Warp Quirk and leaving only him and Shigaraki in the clearing, all others fallen and away, Izuku knew his ingrained instincts were rising, sensing and predicting a threat. Shigaraki was part of it, it was centered around him, but the man himself didn’t carry the ‘threat’ alone. It was… in his shadow, growing around him, hindered only by the man himself.

 

Someone, or something, that he held on a leash.

 

Izuku had spent months wrapping those instincts and responses in softer layers, binding it away with grounding moments, bending sharp edges inwards to avoid cutting others on his pain. He had hidden his thorns, had sheathed them and bound them and locked them away…

 

Against Stain he had started to unsheath his darker instincts, meeting the killer's own bladed mentality with his, but that had been merely a fraction of his focus. Now, facing Shigaraki, instincts and awareness screaming that there was a second, greater, threat waiting in the wings… He drew the sheathing further away.

 

A flick of his sword splattered blood in a crescent around him, and he let his body move on and settle through his routines, flexing and testing his body’s limits and pains, even as he pulled on the chains, as he pulled back from himself.

 

‘T̵h̷i̶s̴ ̷B̵o̷d̵y̸ ̵I̴s̵ ̴A̷ ̸V̶e̸s̴s̸e̵l̵’

 

The words came to him in distorted truth, and he felt it.

 

The touch of the system, echoing through him.

 

He exhaled, and focused once more through his body, reaching past the wave of dissonance between ‘Self’ and ‘Form’ and refocusing, feeling out his body to settle himself.

 

The catalog of injuries he was feeling was minor. Stress more than wounds, bruised muscles and the faint catch and stretch of burned skin around his knuckles the most distinct bit of damage. His armor was marked up from his fights with Stain, several close calls gouging through the enamel and skating off the ceramic layers.

 

Beyond that was the growing itch and nag of hunger . Nearly forty minutes of constant, high exertion, combat. After a day of walking and patrol, two duels with Stain, running across the entire district, taking out another six Nomu, crashing one, and now standing facing Shigaraki… It was all costly. Nutrients, energy reserves… he could feel it, the slight shift to his balance as the small fat reserves he had built up in the time since the sports festival were already being drawn on, as his body increased demand to accommodate the conflict. 

 

“I must say, you are impressive in person, even more so than you were in the Simulation… or the USJ.” Shigaraki called out, his clapping ending as he began to scratch at the edge of his scar, the two of them slowly starting to circle counter-clockwise, taking slow measured steps as they measured the other. Green eyes meeting singular red.

 

“You’re not here to fight me.” Revenant called, eyes flickering to the purple mist and the form of Kurogiri who had manifested a short distance away, tracing the way tendrils of quirk controlled mist hang low along the floor, sneaking up and around Shigaraki form.. 

 

Shigaraki gave an honest to god sigh of disappointment.

 

“Too true. I’m not leveled for your encounter… but I can still feel you out.” Shigaraki gave a grin, cruel and mocking. “Sugoh, after all, is oh so desperate to meet you again.”

 

The name made part of Izuku rage , but he suppressed it, boxing the monster away. He had no room for losing control right now. 

 

Instead he pulled his lips into a smile, donning something that looked… innocent and guileless, despite the smear of dried blood down his cheek. Eyes half lidded and his cheeks mildly flushed, he tilted his head. 

 

He didn’t care to hide the sheer weight of all his killing intent flooding every aspect of his body.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to be willing to let him come out and play, would you? I’ve wanted to see Sugoh in person for so long.” 

 

That actually startled a laugh, manic and amused, from the villain.

 

“Oh, if this had been months ago, then I would be tempted!” Shigaraki reached up, fingers tapping the scarring around his eyepatch. “But that ship has sailed.”

 

For a moment, they exist in equilibrium.

 

Two people balancing on the knife's edge.

 

And then they moved.

 

Twisting, the handgun snapped up and firing- one, then twice-, even as Shigaraki darted to the side and twisted to avoid the shots- before the mist rushed up and encircled him, the villain stepping out of reality- and then back in further back, at the far edge of the plaza.

 

“Closer this time!” Shigaraki called, even as the smoke rose and drifted around him, the gleam of purple and black shifting and expanding, much like it had when the hoard of villains had poured out at the USJ.

 

“Alas, I must depart. I’ve done what I came for… But let me leave you a parting gift.” The grin is wide, manic, but with the rising warp gate behind him, Izuku realizes what’s happening.

 

He’s playing to the crowd.

 

“CESTUS!” At the word, no- the name- A pair of massive arms slammed through the edges of the portal around Shigaraki. The skin was the pitch black of Nomu, but wrapped in layers of crude bone plates that formed around and covered sections of his body like scattered armor pieces, cracked with red veins of gleaming crystal. Following the arms, the upper body passed through, revealing an immense form, once more covered in the same rigid plates, but they also were weaponized. Stretching from the armor, gleaming spines and growths of jagged red crystal rose, as the face finally rose into sight- a face that looked more saurian than human, with two large tusks of crystal hanging around a black lipless maw of large carnivorous teeth, the crystal leading up to a massive bone ridge that covered over a myriad of small red eyes filling the oversized sockets where a normal creatures eyes would rest.

 

But as it dragged through the portal, it began to rise.

 

Four legs, ending in massive claws, stepped out and planted on the ground, the figure pushing up on arms thicker around than most small sedans, revealing just how colossal it was. While it didn’t stretch taller than most of the surrounding buildings, it got close. Nearly three stories from heel to shoulder, the entire structure armored with bone and crystal, spines and jagged shards stretching from it’s back and down to where a massive thagomizer laden tail swung free from the portal- the mist dissipating as it looked down at all of them, the beady red eyes practically gleaming in the faint firelight of the plaza.

 

Shigaraki turned to the beast, red eyes tracking down as it looked at its master.

 

“Kill Everything.”

 

And as Shigaraki vanished in a swirl of purple smoke, Cestus roared in challenge, in rage and began to stomp forwards.

 

Standing between it and the civilians behind him, Izuku could only swear under his breath.

 

“ Oh Fuck You Dusty.”

 

And still, Revenant rushed to meet the newest threat.

---

Then

The unconscious crew members were stored away and the storage room locked up behind him, a post-it note with the lock code on the inside of the door next to the keypad, so if they woke up they would be fine. There was also a letter detailing they should head towards the central atrium lift, and then the main lobby, where defenses had been set up.

 

But now that the collateral was cleared, he needed his distraction. Something loud enough that all the enthralled crew would be inclined to check it out.

And for that, he needed sound equipment. While there was an intercom system, he needed something a bit more localized. 

 

Luckily enough, the bar above the main hall had a kickass sound system.

 

Izuku scraped a smear of mimic off his boot with the edge of the stage, stomping to shake the last of the gore free. Around the stage were several electric instruments, including a drum kit, a stripped down bass, a few microphones… and off to the side, a piano.

 

Stepping past, he found the sound booth, curtained off to the side with a window overlooking the stage…

 

And a recorded performance by one Danielle Sho, the same person whose voice file he needed, was already queued up.

 

Perfect.

 

But first, this required some… technical modifications.

 

Izuku snagged the largest of the speakers on the side of the stage, and dragged it with him to the front of the bar, lifting it up and planting it on the front counter, facing out the doors and towards the rest of the area.

 

Fun fact, Izuku was quite familiar with speaker construction by now. Between messing with small and finicky speakers for the noisemakers in Sevastopol, and the myriad of memories building up of messing around with odds and ends around the station itself, he had a clear idea of how, exactly, a speaker worked.

 

Cracking the case of the speaker from the stage, Izuku set about pulling pieces apart, yanking out the cloth baffling that normally dampened the peaks of the sound and detaching the back, and the actual speaker cone, from the rest of the system. His sound quality was going to tank, but this wasn’t about quality, but force.

 

Tossing the plastic casings aside, Izuku ducked back towards the bar, and came back dragging two aluminum trash cans. It was the work of a few moments to cut the cylinders open, turning them into ragged edged square plates, his ax-wrench carving and hacking through the joints and welds. Once he had the tubes rolled out, he turned to making the now squared off plates of aluminum into the shapes he actually needed.

 

‘The components of a speaker are a magnet, a coil of wire, and a diaphragm where motion can be converted from electric movement to kinetic vibrations. Hook that up to a solid surface with a thin enough and wide enough surface to increase your air pressure, and it vibrates at frequency. Send a signal through the wires and you get a magnetic pulse, bouncing the diaphragm against the magnet itself at specific frequencies. Adjust the frequencies and boom: you’re conveying sound across air. But after a speaker, the next step is to maximize how much air you’re moving, and in what direction.

 

Namely, you need an amplifier. A cone with just enough of a gradient swooping shape to catch and focus sounds where you want it, increasing the area of air effected and the amount of force you get.

 

And as Izuku ripped another sheet of metal free, bending it as he went, he knew damn well that this amplifier was going to be nice and loud.

 

Loud enough to attract every random typhon across half of the crew quarters, and every mind fucked crew member he could get. As the flared plates of metal were stacked at his side, Izuku grinned.

 

‘This is gonna be a hell of a party.’

---

Now

Tenya felt sick. His arm had been bandaged and set, but was still wrapped close to his chest, and he still had a right arm that worked.

 

Manual was behind him, a cracked open fire hydrant under his control as he cleared away rubble… and bodies. The waves were as gentle as they could be, the reddish tinge of the water hiding personal features away while the bodies were gathered and dragged away even as Iida shifted and moved around the side of a collapsed building, calling out distances and marking supports with a bright orange can of spray paint. Anything that wasn’t secure got big vibrant X’s, as a warning to the rest of the rescue teams.

 

And it wasn’t just the Heroes.

 

The bright red fire engines had started moving into the city center, parking around rubble and moving in, figures in heavy garb marked with reflective yellow stripes bustling in as they pulled rubble away and worked on clearing paths deeper. Between clearing away the destroyed store front and setting the bodies aside, where a pair of paramedics were covering them with bags and sheets, confirming deaths. 

 

He had puked the first time he came across a body, before gritting his teeth and getting to work.

 

Already, ambulances had pushed past, the calls of Jirou- no, Ear Jack, they’re in the field- over the radio conveying where they were needed more.

 

Where real help, not just fighters, were needed.

 

Slipping slightly, rubble slid free and Iida saw a hand- and it was moving.

 

“GOT SOMEONE ALIVE OVER HERE!”

 

He saw a pair of fire fighters start jogging his way, but looked away as he started testing grips, ignoring the way smaller chunks of shattered stone shifted as he kicked them away. A support beam for what looked like a shop’s marquee sign, cut loose during the fighting, was crossed right over a small alcove in the front of a building. Grunting, Tenya reached down, trying to get leverage with his single arm- and another pair of arms moved in to help. Iida didn’t wait. “On three! One, Two- ” with a grunt he lifted, his arm and knees pushing the weight as the other hands helped shove higher then where he was, slowly lifting the sign and metal scaffolding up- where the two Firefighters could drag the younger man, barely more than a teen, free from the gap.

 

“Clear!”

 

With an exhale Tenya let the metal crossbar down, reaching up and wiping sweat from his brow as he turned- and froze.

 

He hadn’t gotten a look at who was helping- but it was his dad. The gunmetal and silver armor, the handlebar mustache and long eyebrows, his hair trimmed short and slicked back with sweat, deep black streaked with lines of silver, helmet hanging from the belt of his armor, reminding Tenya that he had lost his after his fight with Stain. An earpiece from Midoriya was all that kept him in the loop and up to date now.

 

“Father, I-”

 

He didn’t get any farther before being pulled tight to his fathers chest, his father’s mustache brushing his temple.

 

His father was trembling.

 

“Oh, my boy… I’m sorry. I should have seen it. Should have been there for you as well.”

 

Tenya leaned in. and let himself shudder and slump against his dad’s chest, tucked under his chin.

 

“I… I almost had him. I almost avenged Tensei.”

 

His fathers grip tightened, and his breath was stuttering.

 

“Oh, my son…. That was never what we wanted. I’m so glad I didn’t lose you too.”

 

They didn’t have long, another cry for help, another shout for assistance, and they pulled apart, eyes wet… But they could talk more later. For now, Impulse straightened his back, gave his son a proud nod, and they set off.

 

There was rubble to move and people to find.

---

Then

Izuku leaned over the ledge, looking down over the entrance to the cafeteria as he toyed with his transcribe. Everything was linked up… He just needed to start.

 

Reaching up, he checked that the rubber earpieces, simple earbuds linked to his transcribe, but that were currently just to buffer some of the noise, were screwed in tight.

 

Satisfied everything was ready to go, he reached up and dragged his finger down the list of music controls, slid all of them to max and turned the bass as high as he could get it.

 

With a grin, he tapped play.

The music wasn’t that aggressive, a rhythmic techno beat… But the volume was high enough that the very glass of the bar was vibrating, humming and pulsing as the sound bounced around. In the center of it all, distorted but still clear enough to make out, was Danielle Sho’s voice.

 

And nowhere was it louder than the massive speaker that Izuku had rigged up.

 

A moment in, the Bass dropped, going into the chorus, and the glass doors flanking the entrance to the bar shattered .

 

But that was enough. Already the first mind controlled crew members were staggering out of the lower door, Izuku watching, tucked away in the alcove of the marquee sign above the cafeteria.

 

He counted, watching as first one- then four- then six brainwashed humans staggered and stumbled their way out of the cafeteria and began to rush the stairs up to the bar.

 

They weren’t alone either.

 

A pair of phantoms flickered out from the hallway deeper into the dorm, hunting for the sound, before one of them blinked up and into the bar.

 

Exactly as planned.

 

On cue, the newly named T-13 and T-14 turrets whirred to life. T-13 standing where it was mounted to the stage, sprayed fire across the front of the phantoms, braced and covered by the remains of a drink cart to tank the first few blasts of plasma sent its way.

 

But from the VIP table to the side, T-14 was flanking the phantoms, tearing into them even as they tried to move.

 

And the two turrets began to devastate the Phantoms.

 

The Typhon quickly began to panic, because while they had been able to teleport in- they weren’t able to teleport out.

 

Because mounted to the stage beneath the turret, was an oversized variant of the Null Disruptor grenade. One plugged into both the turret and the power grid that normally managed the entire stage’s light show and sound system. As long as the system was playing music and the turret was tracking targets, there was no way for the typhon to teleport out.

 

Just what Izuku wanted.

 

With a flare of purple static, the phantoms had no choice but to get shredded .

 

On the stairwell, things didn’t go much better.

 

In fact, as Izuku glanced across the atrium once more, he couldn’t help but grin.

 

He was right, brainwashed people had no sense of balance.

 

And the dozen trip wires on the stairs were already catching and slowing any advances.

 

As a seventh crew member headed that way, Izuku took a deep breath, and pulled the psychoscope over his eyes once more.

 

‘Go time.’

 

Twisting over the sign, Izuku dropped three meters to land with a thunk of boot on wood, before kicking off and sprinting forwards.

 

He was right- most of the Thralls between the doors and the Telepath had been drawn away, the few stragglers left around the edges of the room or in the mess of tables on the upper level.

 

With a shift of his hand, the shotgun slid from its position along his back into his grasp on one side- and the other hand launched a pair of Null Transmitters, followed by a wave of GLOO that caught several of the remaining thralls, pinning them to chairs and tables.

 

The Telepath screeched , bright purple energy flowing from its form- even as the Null Waves triggered and sent them into a chaotic mess.

 

But the real benefit was that the sudden attack made it drop slightly.

 

Leaping up, Izuku got one boot on the edge of a railing and launched himself up, pulling his axe in one hand, bracing his shotgun in the other . The first stretch of the cafeteria was a roundabout area, small platters of food and hotel pans set into a nice display that was clearly unattended. But as Izuku’s boots stomped across the half ring of food, it brought him close to where the Telepath floated.

 

Close enough to leap to.

 

The Telepath screamed, Izuku landed on its side, a spray of black ichor gushing from where the blade hooked into the upper flank. Anchored, Izuku twisted- and brought his shotgun into alignment.

 

Blast after blast made the chthonic mass scream and flail, twisting and turning like a bull ride to kick Izuku free- but Izuku wasn’t willing to let go so easily. Twisting he got his feet under him, bracing off the side of the Telepath as it twisted and keeping the shotgun braced and level.

 

Finally, he got the gun lined up and fired- but it wasn’t deep enough. The tendrils were nice but not close enough to the core. It wasn’t fatal.

 

With a flicker of static, the Null Transmitter burned out- and a blast of purple energy slammed into Izuku, flinging him back deeper into the cafeteria and leaving the axe embedded in the tendrils. For a split second he was airborne and uncontrolled, before with a flex of his core and a twist of his shoulders he adjusted. It was still a messy landing, crashing into a row of chairs- but he came up with the shotgun lined up and ready. Another shot ripped into the Telepath, sending it reeling as it screeched and regained control of its psionics… and as all the Thralls who had been unresponsive suddenly flinched before turning his way. 

 

Kicking to his feet, Izuku twisted and hooked a chair with his ankle twisting to fling it across the floor, taking a thrall out at the knee before spinning back for another shot, pacing through the tables and unloading on the Telepath- ducking a crescent blade of vibrant purple that cracked another table in half. 

 

The Typhon was trying to fly higher, twisting to hide its inner core and wounded flank from view- and Izuku scowled before sprinting under and past it, a spray of GLOO starting as he traced a line ahead of him, foam securing a tilted table surface and stretching up the bright art deco chandelier that hun from the ceiling to the floor.

 

He picked up speed, and got a steady grip, boots hitting 1- 2- 3- solid steps up the chandelier before he threw himself back, jets firing for as much distance as he could buy, before practically tackling the wounded side of the Typhon- and getting a grip back on the axe.

 

The momentum of his fall landed full on the hook of the blade and with a sickening rip of monstrous flesh, he cleaved a massive gash down one side.

 

Revealing the twisting purple light of the Telepaths ‘eye’.

 

And what do you know, his shotgun was just in reach of it.

 

The blast of the shotgun was in sync with the crash as his back and spine met a table- and the table lost.

 

Though, it definitely fucking hurt.

 

As Izuku rolled off the now cracked in half wood patterned surface, he caught sight of the rest of the thralls clutching their heads…. And collapsing.

 

For a moment, the cafeteria was silent, just the distant screech of music and the staccato of the turret up in the bar the only sound.

 

When it felt like Izuku could breathe again, his back aching but not with the usual ‘stabbing shifting pinching’ pain of anything being broken, he pushed up and stepped over towards the closest thrall, pausing only to dump an extra round into the Telepath’s corpse, and snag his axe.

 

Kneeling by the side of the crew member, an older asian man with faint bruising around his temples, Izuku took his vitals.

 

Slow heart rate, breathing… He was alive, but not doing great. A pinch of his cheek and the way the skin flexed showed that he had definitely not been fed or drinking for at least a day, if not longer.

 

Looking around, Izuku cursed at the sudden realization he had nearly 20 unconscious bodies and nowhere safe to stash them…

 

Until a voice called out, from the kitchens.

 

“Who’s there! YOU! I See you! Just another Puppet with black eggs behind your eyes!” The voice was rough and heavy, and as Izuku rose from checking the vitals, he could see the slats of the kitchen blinds crack open.

 

There was someone here who wasn’t unconscious… which means he wasn’t being mind controlled earlier.

---

Now
“FLASH!” with a flicker of motion, Sai and Kunai vanished, reappearing on the wall, the two switching roles in a practiced maneuver. Kunai caught Sai’s arm, both of them gripping the other forearm for stability as Sai reoriented his gravity, catching them on the side of the building, far enough above the street to be clear of the Nomu.

 

They hadn’t quite planned to be stuck in this fight, but by the time the Nomu had reached them, there weren't any others around to fight.

 

Either because they had been carted off to medical… or were laid aside for final rites.

 

And it showed.

 

Kunai panted, his back screaming at him from the trio of gouged out claw marks that had nearly caught him in the spine. Only by teleporting to reorient around his dagger had he avoided what was almost certain death, leaving deep lacerations around his shoulder blades. Above him, Sai didn’t look any better, his face dripping red from a similar trio of large slashes that had ruined his eye. Even now, a rough bandage was wrapped around his head, the red bleeding through. If it hadn’t been for practiced instinct and a quick teleport, he would already be a body in the street.

 

Twisting, Kunai lodged his knife into the brick and pulled himself up, letting Sai slump in exhaustion and pain, single eye locked on the Nomu.

 

And it was a mean fucker.

 

Low and sleek, with black fur that rose from a wiry form, disproportionately long arms ending with three clawed hook-like talons and wide digitigrade lower legs. But for all that it looked like an oversized offspring of a wolf and a monkey, it was agile.

 

And above that, it was fast.

 

Even now, Sai and Kunai weren’t safe, even three dozen meters up the side of the building, the claw marks of the Nomu were evident at this height.

 

Below, the Nomu gave another chitter and began to shift and shimmer- before turning nearly translucent and leaping off from its perch.

 

The stealth wasn’t perfect, but at the speed the Nomu moved, wheeling and lunging among the cars and light posts of the street, it may as well be. Just the distortion of air that bounded around, occasionally augmented with the chitter or the sound of its landings on cars.

 

It was a game of tag with lethal consequences.

 

One the two sidekicks were losing.

 

“Sai, you call it.”

 

The one eyed man nodded, and let go, twisting to kneel on the building, looking out at the street as he fingered one of the two kunai, the match to the one in Kunai’s own grip.

 

“It’s circling again- no. Coming after us again.”

 

Even with only one eye, Sai’s vision and sense of timing was better, it was part of his fighting style. To keep track of spatial direction and timing was far more difficult for the gravity changer than it was for the teleporter, and Sai was far better at the instinctive pattern recognition.

 

“-Now.”

 

They broke apart, Kunai vanishing in a flicker as he pulled and threw the dagger in his grasp, while Sai pushed off and did a twist, altering his gravity with the movement so that all his force was conserved- right before his tabi-boots slammed heel first into the monster’s face-

 

As the claws lashed out- Sai vanished in a flash and Kunai replaced him, twisted 180 from the other’s position, hand grasped around the dagger as he plunged it down- and missed the Nomu’s head.

 

Instead, he caught it in the shoulder, sending it screeching and flailing once more- Kunai vanishing to reappear next to Sai, hand on the hilt of the dagger they were both now holding.

 

“Missed.”

 

“ Fuck. ”

 

The two backed up, putting more distance between them and the thrashing Nomu as it clawed the dagger free from its shoulder. Kunai itched to flicker , just reach out and yank the blade down farther into the beast’s shoulder- but Sai’s grip on his forearm was warning and careful.

 

“We can’t keep this up.”

 

“Well Now! Perhaps I Can Be Of Assistance!”

 

Jumping, both of them glanced back to see the barrel chested form of Crust charging their way-

 

Only to flinch as the sound of metal bouncing off concrete pulled their attention back- to a now suddenly empty looking street.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Agile and with a stealth quirk. Look out for visual distortions and watch the claws!” as Kunai filled in their backup, Sai knelt lower and kept his eyes forwards, the two sidekicks coming back to back.

 

But as Kunai looked back at the fallen dagger, Sai clenched his hand on the other's sleeve.

 

“... It’s a trap. It knows you can go to the Kunai. It’s waiting.”

 

Crust stepped up and took up a stance on Sai’s bad side, covering for his missing eye.

 

“Then we trap it instead. What do you say boys, you want to see an old hero’s tricks?”

 

Crust’s grin, all steel and rusty iron, evicted a chuckle from the normally stoic Sai.

 

“Why, that sounds like a plan to me, old timer. After you.”

 

And with that, all three lunged forwards, sprinting towards the blurred form of the Nomu, Crust growing large bracers of Shield across his arms that flared off, giving his allies visual cover as they closed in.

---

Then

“Who are you? Come to kitchen window. Let me See you.”

 

Pacing around the fenced off kitchen, Izuku slowed as the slats cracked open, just enough to show a balding head and eyes behind thick rimmed glasses, and a fairly hefty torso. He was also wearing a red jumpsuit. When he spoke it was… clumsy. English with a thick accent, one he couldn’t place.

 

“Hmm… You shoot well. What is on your name tag? ‘I. Midoriya’… hmmm… maybe you are like me. Maybe not. Hmm.”

 

The more he spoke, the more concerned Izuku became. While the language barrier in play made him… somewhat clumsy, it was the way he was acting. Even through the narrow slats, Izuku could see him twitching and flinching, reminding him far too much of the inmates of the Asylum.  “Who the hell are you?”

 

Gruffly he slapped at his breast, where the name tag was. “Mitchell. Chef. When beasts aren’t howling, I cook. Make food for the crew.” 

 

“Beasts. You mean the Typhon? Black, kind of slimy, tend to kill or mind control people?”

 

Mitchell scowled. “Ya, beasts. Foul things. Black eyed and sneaky- but they don’t like me, oh no, nothing tasty for them here.” He gave a chuckle, rapping on his head… 

 

Izuku wasn’t sure… how true  that was. His instincts were going haywire, paranoia rising even as the chef talked.

 

“Ah, you want in! Have food! Supplies!” For a moment, the cook was upbeat, but with a shiver his tone snapped back into paranoia and rambling. “Need proof! Need you to bring me valuables! Buy in! Yes!”

 

Izuku kept his expression neutral, forcing his hand to stay off his handgun. He didn’t want to set the cook off, not if he was unstable. “Valuable item.. Okay, anything in particular?”

 

The cook glanced away and scowled before peering back.

 

“In my room. Award. Bring it to me, and I'll let you in. Food, supplies, fabricator. But medal first. ” He leaned in, peering through the slats with narrowed eyes. “If you come back black-eyed, I’ll kill you.”

 

And with a snap, the slats closed.

 

Izuku took a slow deep breath and stepped away, before heading for the unconscious crew. First things first. He needed to get these people out of the way and in the recovery position somewhere they wouldn’t try to get eaten by mimics. Luckily, he hadn’t found many of the smaller Typhon in the area. Aside from the few up in the bar, it seemed like the telepath had kept them at bay. Possibly a territorial thing? Izuku would have to find out with some testing, but that was down the line.

 

First, the knocked out crew, then the award and tracking down more samples of Danielle Sho’s voice. The song had helped, but he was still missing a good chunk of data to make an accurate voice replicant.

---

Now

A gasp of exertion, and a hand finally found purchase scrabbling over the paving stones of the plaza as she got her fingers, clumsy as they still were, to hook and press into the stone, rolling off her stomach, and wounded arm. With a gasp, Burnin’- as Moe Kamiji , pushed herself to her knees, left arm pressed to her side, trying to stem the bleeding from where Stain’s blade had slashed through her jacket, a shallow cut running from breast to hip.

 

She had been regaining movement for several minutes for now, but hadn’t been able to coordinate . If it wasn’t for the stress of the situation, she would have been ashamed, but as she finally pushed up and to her feet, she glanced around and froze-

 

Because that was a massive monster, lumbering and swaying as it stomped forwards. Every motion swept ash and rubble aside, kicking up clouds of dust-  and weaving around them was a gleam of green that caught her eye.

 

Someone was fighting that monster. Ducking around and dodging sweeps of over sized armored fists as they slammed into the ground- and as a blade glinted and and left brutal slashes across the thin strips of exposed flesh. Another slam of fist into pavement and the dust hid the fighter from sight, but the titanic foe wasn’t moving their way. Which means that if there was a time to leave, it was now. Looking back around, she caught sight of the kid, Shoto, also pushing himself up- and then doubling over and vomiting across the pavement.

 

Rushing to his side, she nearly stumbled but managed to get her hand on his skin- and swore . He was feverish to the touch, and his eyes weren’t focusing even as they turned her way.

 

‘Shit, he’s going into hyperthermic shock.’ Shaking him, she managed to get his eyes- if not focused, then her direction. “SHOTO! You need to ice yourself! Right Now!”

 

With a shudder, he nodded, and the temperature dropped .

 

Thick frost built across his body, spreading from his right arm- blistered and cracked with burn wounds, but it was working. Even just the frost was enough to balance out his temperature more, bringing him down from critical temps, but he wasn’t out of danger yet.

 

“Right! We’re moving. You need medical treatment! Where’s the-” A roar drew her attention back to the fight, as a slam of fists sent a wave of rubble across the ground, dust and ash billowing out in a cloud and forcing the sidekick to tuck Shoto to her side and duck her head.

 

As fragments of street scattered around, she hissed as some chunk of stone slammed into her back with enough force to make her gasp.

 

But as she looked back, she couldn’t make out the fight any more, the ash kicked up dense and thick enough to hide it from view.

 

But she could hear and feel it. The shake of the ground, the scrape and impact as things crashed together.

 

“We’ve got to move.”

 

Wincing, she hooked his good arm over her shoulder and pushed up, dragging the teen to his feet even as he retched again, eyes still unfocused but now with a brow furrowed with discomfort and pain.

 

“Wait… Father.”

 

Burning grimaced and looked around, before seeing the prone form of her boss further ahead, near the dead lump of another Nomu. She hadn’t been able to see much, but she thought it was where the other fighter had come from. Judging by the lack of the familiar flames… he was unconscious… ‘or dead. But no, he was alive last I heard, Stain was interrupted. Gotta believe the boss is still breathing.

 

“I’ll grab him in a minute. We’ve got to move, kid.”

 

Shoto gave a shake of his head, and started moving, still clumsy but keeping up as she dragged him along.

 

As they reached the edge of the ash cloud, she saw the ambulances lined up and called out. “MEDIC! WOUNDED SIDEKICK! HERO DOWN!”

 

A pair of medics looked up from a gurney, and with a nod one rushed their way, leaving the other to finish attending their current patient. “Condition!?”

 

She shifted to let the other medic get a grip under Shoto’s injured arm, and picked up the pace. “Frostbite and third degree burns, and he was hyperthermic not long ago. He’s using his quirk to cool off but I have no idea how well that’ll work. His temperature needs to be taken and monitored, and his arm needs burn treatments.”

 

The medic nodded, before guiding them towards one of the crash pads, lowering the teen to the ground and getting to work even as the delirious teen tensed up, arm held out for treatment as he clenched, skin blistering and cracking with the motion. “And you?” 

 

“I’m cut, but it’s not deep enough to stop me, not yet.” She twisted, and winced, the cut pulling against the motion, but not ripping. The slice was shallow enough that it only caught the pudgy part of her stomach, something she was suddenly very grateful for. Along with the fact that her white hero outfit was armored to hell and back, and had kept her getting cut nearly in half. “I need to go retrieve Endeavor- who’s keeping the monster occupied?”

 

The medic looked up and grimaced, solemn. “From what I've heard, it's another intern. Midoriya- something.”

 

Turning, Moe looked out with awe and apprehension.

 

The person fighting that monster… was a teenager?

---

Then

Izuku glanced over the vial in his hand, the shimmering purple of the fluid with that same gleam, the label of ‘IM-3-Technician’ stamped on the side. Tucking it, along with the various supplies he had already snagged from the mailroom, away, Izuku stepped out into the long curving half-circle hallway. He needed to find Danielle’s room, along with the Chef, Mitchell’s.

 

But first, stepping forwards Izuku tapped the door controls directly ahead of him, for the exercise room, and checked that it was locked down. With one direction sealed, he was down to just two, the curving halls of dorms that stretched to his left and right. 

 

Left was back towards the rest of the station, however. So he would clear that side out and then push for the far end, keeping any Typhon from circling around and cornering him on the outer edge of the area.

 

Plus… he recognized the name for the first door.

 

‘S. Elazar’

 

The head of security… and what were the odds that she took some gear home?

 

Moving down the hall, Izuku knelt and tapped the lock, revealing… a standard door lock. Oh, the hologram was projecting level 4 security coding . But it wasn’t on a secured lock. 

 

Perfect.

 

Private quarters apparently didn’t rank top tier security! Oh what a shame .

 

Sliding the tools from his kit, a narrow probe and some connective wire rerouted the electrical current between the two switches… swapping the electromagnetic locking mechanism from locked, to open.

 

With a soft ‘clink’ the panels of the door unlocked. Letting Izuku reach out and slide the door open with minimal effort, revealing the tasteful wooden paneling and art deco theme of the station continued in, a small L-shaped room spreading out before him, a short step separating the upper half, by the entrance, where a chair and plant sat, clearly for relaxing, from the work desk and actual ‘bedroom’ of the space.

 

Izuku gave a slow scan, but didn’t feel that intrinsic… ping of a threat. Not here.

 

Stepping down, the back wall past the bed became visible… as well as the fully stocked weapon cabinet at its side.

 

Two more handguns, a shotgun, and a locked shelf full of ammo- ripe for the taking.

 

But first… Izuku tapped at the screen of the computer and couldn’t help but sigh. Her personal computer was up to snuff, and Izuku didn’t have her password, or- as the memories reminded him, her Voice Authentication ID. Turning away from the computer, Izuku set his eyes on the ammo and got to work.

 

By the time he left five minutes later, he was fully stocked with ammunition and gun parts.

 

Of course, three rooms later he got attacked by a new, invisible typhon.

 

One with telekinesis.

 

A shattered piece of memory told him exactly what he was facing.

 

‘Fucking Poltergeists.’

---

Now

For all its immense size… Cestus wasn’t slow.

 

Oh, it wasn’t a blindingly fast combatant, but it didn’t need to be. It had enough mass that even a casual movement would have enough force built behind it to shatter concrete and throw around cars. And it didn’t even care all that much about retaliation, Izuku had left nearly twenty deep lacerations across its form, tracing around armor plating and the crystalline spikes across its arms, and with several more across its lower torso and legs, the cuts deep enough into black skin to reveal flexing red muscles…. But  it hadn’t even slowed down.

 

It also hadn’t even bled.

 

Izuku darted to the side, letting a slam blow apart the ground, even as he leapt across the rubble, blade lashing out and carving another wide crescent into the club-like limb, before throwing himself aside and letting the other hand sweep past where he had just been, red crystal spikes scraping and snapping across the ground, only to begin regrowing even as the Nomu took another thunderous step forwards, both arms coming up- and crashing down, cratering the plaza and throwing another wave of dust and ash upwards, Izuku darting into the cloud of ash as he reassessed his options.

 

As it was, attacking the arms and legs was not working. If it wasn’t the thick armor plating, something similar in consistency to bone, it was the enemy’s sheer mass working against him. He could keep its focus on him, could poke and prod and make it roar as it chased him , but it didn’t seem to even care about the concept of attrition. He had noticed more than one wound already sealing up, thick black flesh pulling together to hide the internal musculature once more.

 

But the lack of blood . That was bugging him. Even most mutation quirks made some sense in relation to human biology, The parts changed and twisted, accommodating for the needs of the new physiology. In fact, the only variant of quirks that normally ignored biological processes like this were… transformation.

 

Rolling over a sweeping limb, Midoriya hooked the blade around the wrist using the monster’s own momentum and movement to fling himself clear of the immediate rubble, leaving a deep cut across the joint in the act. Rolling to his feet as he touched down, Izuku turned and watched as beady red eyes refocused on him, the wound ignored, and Cestus began to lumber his way, tusked face and bared teeth of its maw facing his way as the arms swept more rubble away to clear a path for its slow stomping feet- before it practically leaned forwards to throw its fists down at him again- missing Izuku as he dove into a backflip, hands planting on the ground and pushing off to give him enough height to clear a crushed sedan as the rubble skidded past him.

 

As the cloud of dust and ash rose, hiding him once more, Izuku flexed his grip on his sword, eyes traveling up the massive shadow of his opponent.

 

‘Flesh wounds don’t work. I’ve got three more magnesium-thermite charges, but I don't know if they would do enough damage to disable it from the ground level.’

 

Izuku gave one last flex before flipping and sheathing Blight-Killer at his waist. Reaching back to the reinforced back compartments of his hip armor, he unlatched a square holster, a compressed block of metallic components, the outer edge painted with high visibility orange, sliding into his right hand, grip perfectly fitted for his glove and fingers.

 

‘I need to get higher… It hasn’t been flinching from the wounds to the arms… but how does it fare against a more sensory focused attack?’

 

As the dust began to settle, there were clicks and whirs, the compressed weapon system unfolding and opening, two braces coming back to hook around his right fore-arm, the battery in his gauntlet humming to life as the circuit through his palm to the weapon was completed.

 

Reaching under his armor weave skirt with his left hand, he pulled a squared off cartridge from its holster, and slammed into a newly revealed slot with a faint hiss of gas…

 

And then three beads of light began to gleam, the front of the device unfolding out almost like a crossbow’s limbs, revealing the three emitters housed within the orange arc.

 

‘Let’s get a bit more Industrial with it.’

 

As the dust began to settle, and the row of red beady eyes peered down and locked on, Izuku rose the plasma cutter to take aim, three glowing blue dots tracing up to the eyes, the line from emitter to eye traced in ash and smoke-

 

“Don’t blink.”

 

And with a Phhschhhm, three darts of superheated ionized plasma slammed into the eyes, splashing across the titanic nomu’s face like blue-green flame .

 

For the first time, Cestus flinched , rearing back and one arm rising up to block his face as a grumble of discontent rang out.

 

‘There it is. You can’t feel the flesh wounds… but you saw the flash. Whatever biology bypass your flesh and size are related to… You still need nerves to see. Which makes those… a weakness.’

 

Izuku kicked off the sedan, racing through the smoke as Nomu swung one arm back and forth blindly, the other raised to hide his pained eye from further damage…

 

‘Thanks for blinding yourself, you fucking idiot.’

 

With a crack of pavement, Izuku launched himself up the stumpy clawed leg of the Nomu, one gloved hand hooked on a boney armor plate, the armored sole of his boots bracing on a short ridge of razor sharp crystal for a second before he launched himself higher. Smooth and quick movements practically threw him up and around the Nomu’s torso- until with a final leap he caught the edge of the Nomu’s massive collar bone, pulling himself up- and staring straight into the damaged eye socket.

 

Of the several mismatched and beady red eyes, nearly half of them were blown out pits of fluid, popped by the plasma shot, but several were merely scorched and wounded. And as he pulled himself into sight- Cestus recognized the threat and the monstrous head thrashed.

 

The edge of the tusks, gleaming with red crystal, scraped and carved through the dull flesh of the shoulder as the head shook, nearly taking Izuku’s arm with it, if he hadn’t thrown himself up into the air, twisting as he lined up and fired another blast of plasma into the eye- turning the sweeping and scraping of the tusk into uncontrolled pained flailing as the pit of bubbling fluids got another direct shot, nearly all the eyes now bubbling pits or scorched remains.

 

And that’s when the arms came up and the entire Nomu began to move.

 

Izuku had barely made contact before he was forced to practically parkour the monster, as it threw itself into a tumbling roll.

 

The entire plaza shook as the monster threw its upper body at the ground, twisting and rolling like some kind of feral dog in an attempt to crush the pest that had taken its sight.

 

Izuku was good, leaping from grip to grip as he swung himself clear of the spines and twisting shoulders, and even managed to jump free as the entire torso began to whip towards the ground, Cestus using its greater mass to attempt to flat out bury the teen.

 

But, just as he was leaping free, Izuku saw the thing he had been avoiding.

 

The fucking tail.

 

Lined with massive spines of red crystal, Izuku had been forcing Cestus to face him front on to avoid the natural weapon whipping around- but with the entire creature thrashing around, he had lost orientation for a split second.

 

And the tail whipped up and slammed into Izuku midair.

 

Only a reflexive draw of his sword, holding it braced across his torso with a reverse grip, the tip still locked in the sheath even as the metal line intercepted the gleaming red crystal blade, kept the tip of the largest spine from punching straight through his torso, instead shattering the crystal across the stronger blade-

 

But it didn’t prevent the sheer mass of the tail from following the strike through.

 

‘Mid-air collision. Brace, keep your body in alignment and take the strike without flinching. Don’t let it crush your form, don’t let it leave you unable to respond-’

 

With a flash of pain, Izuku was swatted out of the sky, sent crashing towards the ground from a height of nearly three stories.

 

Tumbling through the air, Izuku sucked in a deep breath and twisted.

 

He needed to either roll with the strike, bleeding off the impact force, or-

 

Bracing, Izuku the ground feet first, and at an angle. As he hit the ground, his legs buckled, the motion controlled and focused as he slid backward, Izuku‘s body curving in as the force was absorbed , modulated and distributed across his back and along the muscles of his legs, boots practically carving two lines through the ash and dust of the plaza as he took the impact across his entire lower body and up along the chain of muscles on his spine, left arm held out and at the side, Blight-Killer held out and angled backwards.

 

Exhaling in pain and as the kinetic stress faded, Izuku reached up and gripped a long fragment of bright red crystal that was sticking out of the flesh of his left shoulder, the main reason he hadn’t tried to roll off the motion.

 

He didn’t want to rip his body open with the crystal shards.

 

The largest of them had punched through the cloth armor weaving around his upper left arm. Smaller shards had embedded into his armor, crushed into the material of his chest and the armored lines of his neck, but unable to penetrate. With a sharp breath, he snapped the bulk of the crystal pine off, dropping the cracked spike of red to the side, before digging in and yanking the tip out of the fleshy bit of muscle in his shoulder, before it could crack and carve deeper injuries, dropping it to the side as he watched Cestus finish thrashing and rise up once more, blood trickling down his arm and off his elbow as he held the plasma cutter up and checked the readout. 

 

[8]

 

‘Ten shots per cartridge. I have one spare… Gonna have to make this count.’

 

Lowering the cutter, he tapped the control to flip the emitters, the alignment twisting 90 degrees to line back up with the grip for a moment as he checked the weight distribution.

 

A rumble of debris and monster drew his attention back up, the threatening form of Sugoh’s  Nomu once more rising up on its legs torso pulling slowly up from where it had cashed into the ground, ash and rubble falling from its form, shedding cracked and damaged crystal shards even as new spines slowly began to replace the old.

 

But now, with one eye socket blown into a bleeding pit of burned and damaged tissue, the first signs of internal organic structures were peeking through.

 

There was blood dripping down its cheek.

 

As Cestus gave another grumbling roar, and began to lumber his way once more, Izuku let out a groan and straightened up. 

 

The teen already felt the heat and ache of healing for the torn muscles across his thighs and heels, and the slight crack of his spine as he released the compressive force he had used to take the titanic impact. The bleeding from his shoulder already slowing from a stream to a mere weep, Izuku flipped his sword back around to a standard grip, and held it out at his side. Izuku gave a long and considering glance over Cestus’s form. He needed to get back in close, because now he had at least some idea where the thing he was facing actually hurt .

 

Wherever the core of Cestus was, the head was close enough for actual blood to be pumped to it, maintaining the more delicate structures that gave it sight. As Izuku narrowed down his expectation towards the upper torso, considering the head itself as a possibility, because of how big it was….

No, it was the upper torso. The thick armored breastplate, the crystal blades around the spine, the distance from limbs that slowly healed… it was a pain in the ass but he had an idea now, though what he wouldn’t give for an actual explosive loadout for something like this. Thermite was for cauterizing flesh and destroying cell structure, a way to eliminate regenerators. For something on this scale… He would have at least wanted some kind of bomb. Something that could blow through the armor. Or a heavy weapon that could punch through the limbs. Healing and false biology didn’t remove the structural weight that someone’s knees were forced to carry.

 

Breathing in and out, measuring and pacing his deep slow breaths Revenant began to walk back towards Cestus, keeping his movements casual and loose.

 

He had drawn blood.

 

Now it was a matter of capitalizing on it.

 

As he cleared the last bit of rubble and got close enough for the two to clash again, Izuku broke out into a sprint.

 

‘I’ve just got to keep you pinned down until you slip up.’

 

He just hoped he had enough energy to keep it up.

---

Then

Izuku ducked under the thrown planter, ignoring as it crashed into and splintered the wooden panel of the hall behind him, rising up and aiming his handgun at the distortion in the air, unloading into the flickering shape even as another wave of telekinetic force threw more scattered debris his way.

 

However, as he nearly emptied the magazine, the distortion popped , and black and iridescent blood splattered the ground. The clatter of empty cans and wooden junk hitting the ground gave Izuku a chance to breathe, brushing splinters and a layer of loose soil from his suit.

 

The Poltergeist fight had been confined to mostly the hallway, the invisible enemy able to teleport and shift through the area to get better angles to throw whatever it could get at Izuku. 

 

It had also tried to throw Izuku a couple times, telekinetic force throwing him back or yanking him up towards the roof. It was only once he figured out the Psychoscope could focus and pick up the both the visual distortions and the actual ‘Gravatonic Effect’ that was happening: that he stopped wasting ammo from his shotgun and swapped to picking at the figure with his handgun, sprays of blood the only sign he was starting to narrow in on the distortion and take it down.

 

While not as imminently fatal as his encounters with Technopaths or the Telepath, Izuku was firmly planting his opinion of the poltergeist as ‘Fuck this guy.’

 

Looking around, Izuku kicked at a bit of rubble… and then sighed. Leaning down he pulled the ‘Mitchell’ sign off the rubble and stared at it… before looking up at the signs around him.

 

It was one of the three at the very end of the hall…

Welp. One by one.

 

Twenty minutes, three mimics, and a phantom later- Izuku lifted up a flip case, a golden medal on display on the velvet interior.

 

‘Macon Noble Chef Award’ 

 

Next to it, sitting open, was a transcribe, unlocked and with a cracked screen on the ‘call’ menu.

 

A few seconds of investigating, and Izuku paused. One of the past calls had Danielle Sho’s image on it, a saved call.

 

Reaching out, Izuku hit play…

 

And the clear, old, voice of someone with a clear american accent began to talk to Danielle Sho about a custom operator named Skillet, and its accent and modified personality being a joke.

And Izuku scowled, because the voice was not the same one of the cook who introduced himself as Mitchell.

 

Aaron’s warning, that the other prisoners were ‘nasty pieces of work’ , that they were dangerous , came back in force.

 

Because whoever was in the kitchen, Wasn’t Will Mitchell.

---

Now
Jirou Kyouka was getting exhausted, her voice was starting to take a raspy tone, and her head hurt from juggling so many calls and conversations.

 

Several other first responders, including a Firefighter with an arm in a cast and one of the EMT’s whose ambulance got disabled, and someone who she was pretty sure was the chief of the local police, had found and gotten together with her. In front of her, the hood of a police cruise requisitioned as a table for two different street maps. One was plastered over the window to let Kyouka actually read and track the different street names at a glance, the other was on the hood, a pair of red and orange markers in her hand marking down places where she needed either firefighters or medic, a black marker at the side being used as they reported area’s cleared. It was slow, but the outer ring of red and orange was slowly being consumed by the black of rescue and disaster response handling call ins.

 

“Have fire squad 311 move north and finish securing site 3, the road is now clear so let the EMT’s move in and start heading for the plaza, if we can clear a path we can finish evacuating the wounded away from the fight.” The hound-headed captain, Tsuragamae, was dressed in a rumpled suit, the jacket tossed away and a brick-like communicator in hand as he listened to another police sergeant somewhere in the disaster call in.

 

He had taken over direct command of the civil services, with the assistance of the firefighter, Shinra, directing and listening to the other fire crews in the city as Kyouka devoted herself to listening to the Hero’s comm about where they were needed, and the sparse updates on the conflict in the center of the district. The play-by-play was… Anxiety-inducing. Good news followed by horrendous news. Stain being defeated, but escaping capture. The appearance of Shigaraki, the leader of the League, and then the appearance of what, by all accounts, was some kind of super Nomu- Kyouka was trying to scramble as much support as she could to the fight, as well as the last of the ‘lesser’ nomu fights being a drawn out skirmish on the north-west side of the district. One where the two people who had been training her all week were already suffering major wounds.

 

‘Damn it! We need reinforcements-’

 

And as if on cue, two new contacts joined the operating channel.

 

Kyouka could almost cry as she heard the voices of two more Pro-heroes chime into the call, requesting targets to hit and places to be.

 

“Heavy target at the North Hosu Plaza, Secondary target is west and north of the Plaza!”

 

“I’ll take the Big One. Give it someone its own size to fight with!”

 

“I’ll head to the secondary target and circle back!”

---

Then

Izuku knelt by another computer, looking through the drawers for spare gear and scraps even as another audio file played out… a conversation between Danielle Sho… and her girlfriend, Abigail Foy. Or, considering the tense conversations and the slim pieces of context, ex -girlfriend might be better. 

 

He had to admit, it felt almost creepily voyeuristic, listening to these snippets of their relationship, especially since he was using them to copy Danielle’s own voice files to form his artificial copy. The tense arguments, the half-spoken apologies… It made him uncomfortable. Especially as he had listened to the messages saved… by both sides. Their rooms were quite literally across the hall from each other.

 

Upside, he was almost certain that his voice software was up to snuff… but he still wanted to clear the area and move on. He had hope- Damningly faint, but still hope that there was another survivor who wasn’t in a potential coma up here. There was… some itch of hope. Something without context… but that he knew was here somewhere.

But, he had to focus. As the files played, he focused on clearing the rooms along the hallway, stripping gear and supplies where he could. He had no idea who the cook actually was, what skills he had, what possible powers he might have had. And looking back, Izuku was convinced that the imposter did have powers in some way. He had managed to resist the telepath- and had mentioned ‘black eggs in the eyes’. Typhon Neuromods? Izuku wasn’t sure. But he wanted to be ready to deal with whatever the fake-cook could do.

 

As the message played out, Izuku came to a stop at the end of the hall. Ahead was what looked like communal bunks, to his right was a small fitness room, and on his left…

 

Calvino.

 

The Looking Glass expert.

 

The door gave way under his now expertly practiced bypass, and slid open.

 

Stepping in, Izuku gave a look… and slowed.

 

The bed was unmade, tucked as far out of the way as possible at the top of the steps, the lower half of the room… converted into a workshop. Centered around… a table.

 

A scale model of some small… Coastal town. The entire room was also covered in… Notes. Pieces of information about ‘more detail’, ‘Render failed’, ‘Weather needs tweaking.’

 

And across the wall beyond the scale model… it was playing out. A bird’s eye view of a small town, details that didn’t exist in the model being filled in by computer algorithms… and, from what the notes said. From memory.

 

The computer revealed the truth.

 

Doctor Calvino… was suffering from memory loss. Alheizmers, of some variety. He was forgetting days, memories, important details… and his wife. His childhood home. 

 

The secrecy, the hidden compartments… they were all to keep his disease and the treatments he needed from easy access.

 

Because one of his treatments was an experimental neuromod.

 

One that was designed to rebuild erased memory.

 

Reaching down, hand hooking under the edge of the model table, Izuku couldn’t help but… commiserate.

 

And when his hands found another sticky note, tucked away under the table’s edge, with the number for a safe code…

 

Well, it only took a few minutes.

 

He just had to look beyond the looking glass.

 

As he slid the panel of 3D imaging aside, typing the code into the safe, Izuku was anxious. What if there wasn’t anything here… what if it was just another- random- neuromod.

 

It wasn’t.

 

But… it also wasn’t a full neuromod.

 

Just part of one.

 

Memory Restoration Formula: Treatment 1 of 3.

---

Now

Izuku leapt back, hissing in pain at the fresh array of shrapnel that had scratched his skin, the already clotting and scabbing marks harmless, but yet another drain on resources he couldn't afford to spare.

 

The torso of Cestus had several burn marks now, scorched marks from the plasma cutter as Izuku tried to hunt down any point of weakness, any place where the core would have been accessed.

 

The issue was, unlike the rest of the Nomu, where the signs of experimentation had been clearly displayed, all of the markings that Revenant would expect to see were missing . The grown and artificial body around them was hiding any easy out to find where the core was.

 

What was worse, the damage he had dealt early on was already healing. A sack of what looked like pus and fluids had popped in the empty eye socket not even moments ago, a fresh, if imperfect, eye filling part of the socket, restoring its field of vision.

 

Revenant had also seen the evacuations going on. Ambulances, the sirens off to avoid drawing attention, had been getting loaded from wall to wall with anyone the medics could move, and from what his comm unit, audio quality shot from heat exposure, was relaying, they were trying to clear the entire zone so that the police could organize an actual military strike on Cestus if it didn’t go down.

 

Izuku couldn’t help but admire the pragmatism of a police chief knowing he’s out of his depth.

 

But, that didn’t change that Izuku was getting tired.

 

Muscle fatigue was setting in, lactic acid building up and slowing his reactions. More and more he had to plan ahead in the fight, keeping his distance, poking just hard enough to keep the titan’s focus- but unable to hit hard enough.

 

So when a second roar rang out- Izuku could only release a dark and tired chuckle.

 

Because that wasn’t an unfamiliar sound.

 

Just one he had never heard in person.

 

That sound heralded the arrival of a nearly 15 meter long, silver winged and massive, dragon.

 

And as it dived from the sky, a color and theme swapped palette to his own entrance not so long ago, a figure split from it, spiraling golden beams crashing over Cestus’s torso and shattering the spines- just in time for the form of Ryukyu, The 9th ranked Dragoon Hero, to hit him hard enough from the back that the titan staggered.

 

Izuku readjusted his grip, dusted himself off, and couldn’t help but grin behind his mask.

 

“Huh. Reinforcements. That's new.”

Notes:

Hope you all enjoyed! As always, comments, fanart, omakes, and dervivative works are welcome and accepted!

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Chapter 59: Raid Boss: Second Stage

Summary:

The Boss Fight continues- and the imposter may just be Sus.

Now

Hadou Nejire darted around, another blast of twisting energy lancing down, splashing over the red crystal spikes growing from the Nomu, shattering the crystalline structures as her mentor, Ryukyu slammed into the beast, twisting around one of the arms and attempting to pin the creature, pale silvery scales scraping across crystal and bone-like armor. Flexing her hands, Nejire gained some distance, a swirl of energy letting her drift back in a long arc, eyes tracing over the beast, watching as more red crystal slowly began to grow-, her mentor twisting in a motion that wrenched the creature’s arms out of position, the sickening sound of a cracking joint echoing as the elbow joint gave out under her mentor’s draconic might.

 

A beep echoed through her comm bead- the sound of a new member being added to Ryukyu’s priority channel.

 

“Revenant signing in-” Oh! It was the other hero who had been fighting- “ those spines are sharp enough to gouge into concrete- if they start catching on your scales, disengage, Ryukyu.” Nejire glanced around, blue eyes tracing the rubble before she found the swordfighter, crouched on the hood of a crushed car, hand to his ear and head tracking the fight.

 

“Heard.” came her mentor’s growled voice.

 

Tapping her own earpiece, she spoke up, knowing Ryukyu had a hard time talking while ‘Dragonfied’. “Nejire-chan here, any more info on the monster?”

 

Below her, the masked hero glanced her way before nodding. “It’s called Cestus, Shigaraki unleashed it with orders to kill everything it could, and I was keeping it isolated. It’s not dumb, either. It recognized a threat and kept attention on me. The body is a transformation or projection- it doesn’t bleed and it regrows damage. The core seems to be the upper torso- through what feels like half a meter of reinforced bone plating. The eyes are vulnerable, but they regrow fast, and the spines are razor sharp, but fragile. Watch the tail, it’s fast and damn accurate.”

 

Nejirie gave another pulse, keeping her altitude as she listened to the quick rundown, appreciating the fast and detailed response, her mind already collecting the information.

 

Why couldn’t more people answer questions like that! Jeeze!

 

“Heard.”

 

Oh right, comm etiquette. “Heard!” 

 

Nejire dived back in, twisting around in a long spiral, one arm out to maintain her speed while the other sent bursts of twisting energy to shatter spines and try to keep the monster defenseless-

 

“RYUKYU, DISENGAGE NOW!”

For a moment, Nejire wasn’t sure what Revenant had seen- but as the Dragoon Hero pushed off- she saw it. Glowing red veins of crystal began to pulse across the torso of Cestus, glowing out from the clawed rends that had been dug into the torso- before with a roar they shot out.

 

Long bladed ridges twisting and growing, sheets of crystal and spines spraying out, carving a shallow cut along the retreating Ryukyu’s flank, only to crack and fall from the titanic form as it shifted and moved- breaking the crystals free with sheer strength- ignoring as the chunks fell and shattered across the concrete in its wake.

 

But, even as the crystal mass sheared away, the Nomu wasn’t done. With a twist, its dislocated and broken arm swung out- turned into a flail encrusted in ridges and pikes that shattered against the ground as it thrashed- the arm cracking as more and more layers of twisted and sharp crystal grew out- ripping apart the ruined limb to make a mass of distended flesh and meter long bladed flanges, only the upper shoulder intact enough to swing the weapon around him, snapping the flail loose.

 

And as Cestus twisted- it put it to use.

 

With a roar- the clubbed arm swung out, the combination of ripped apart muscle and crystal turning the limb into a macabre flail- one long and loose enough that even though Ryukyu dodged, leaping up the side of a building and taking flight, the crystal mass ripped through the front of the buildings.

 

“Nejire- duck.”

 

Not willing to ignore the warning, she cut the power to her flight for a second, dropping down- just in time for the tail to snap through the air she had just been in.

 

“Thanks!’

 

“Keep moving- it can still see you.”

 

Nodding to herself, Nejire began to twist and turn- using the spiral of her thrust to twist out of the way as the tail snapped back up- before she got out of range- sending another beam of energy to try and distract Cestus.

 

She glanced around- but with the additional clouds of dust and ash, she couldn’t see Revenant anymore.

 

And then, she was too busy distracting the Nomu so Ryukyu could sweep in to strike it again.

---

Then

Taking a glance over the medal, Izuku couldn’t help a bit of anxiety, the edge of memories unremembered in the back of his skull being… indecisive. There was an element of fear, of avoidance- but there was also this niggling sense of satisfaction . Of duty.

 

A thread of… Heroism.

 

It was… strange. To recognize that feeling. To feel that emotion so… unfamiliar.

 

He had wanted to be a hero for years.  

 

And it had taken…just over five months for the sensation to fade to obscurity. For fear and pain to drive any sensation of heroism from his mind… or come close to it.

 

Breathing out, he sat on the edge of the atrium desk, one knee up, pulled towards his chest so he could rest his arms on it, breathing in slowly as he forced his mind to settle.

 

The cook wasn’t who he said he was… He had Danielle Sho’s audio files- should be able to just leave and continue. 

 

But…

 

Keep Going.

 

This thread wasn’t finished. This quest wasn’t at its end.

 

There was something hiding in the kitchen. He could remember it… but only in context. Only that something of use was there.

 

One last check of his guns, one last cleaning of his wrench-axe’s edge, one last check all his pipes were intact, that his compressor was working- the GLOO was fully loaded.

 

Letting one last round of injections settle- the Technician Neuromod wiring through his brain- linking half a dozen fragments of knowledge into coherent wholes- the application of so many other skills being converted towards repair and maintenance- how to safely reroute power and repair devices mixed with assessing damage and fabrication or bypassing parts to complete systems. How to optimize those same cycles. Even now, as he used a wrench to adjust the pressure valves on his arms GLOO firing chamber, he could see where to improve. Where to fix design flaws that stemmed from mismatched skills.

 

Sliding the wrench back into the leather bundle of tools, Izuku sighed and reached down to the counter. The empty vial shone in his grip as he picked it off the granite surface- before with a sharp snap of his wrist he shattered it across the wooden flooring at his feet.

 

He could feel it.

 

The memories, the echoes of him that were coming back into alignment. And with it was instincts. The urge to act, to fight, to be dangerous were assembling. Frustrations taken to a breaking point being revealed underneath the shifting sands of his memory-

 

But, maintenance and prep finished, he pushed off the counter to his feet, slinging his shotgun back across his back, holstering the pistol at his side, and tucking his tools back into their pouch.

 

He kept his axe in hand, loose grip on the red enameled grip.

 

With calm steps, he headed for the kitchen, pulling the boxed medal from his punk and twisting it slightly, letting the overhead lights catch the faint embossing across the box’s surface, a sign of quality craftsmanship.

 

‘How do you trip a trap? You give them what they want. You look like you’re playing fair. You need to bait them into the trap with you…’

 

As he paced his way, steps quiet but not silent, he rapped his wrench on the metal shutters.

 

“Yo, Chef. I found your medal.”

 

“What? Trophy!” The shutters cracked- half an inch at best-, just enough to show the silhouette beyond- but Izuku could make out eyes and the glint of glasses, locked on the case as he waved it was a casual ‘carelessness’.

 

“Hah! Trophy! Come in! Quickly!”

 

As the shutters snapped back shut- the door to the kitchen beeped- the red lock flickering green.

 

‘...and when they let you close- you strike hard and fast.’

 

In his grip, the axe felt heavy.

 

He pushed through the door into the kitchen, and prepared to meet the impersonator face to face.

 

Now

Crust ducked a lashing claw- intercepting a followup strike on a shield- just in time for Kunai to flicker in- slashing across the monsters side and forcing the half visible shape to writhe and pull back- blackened blood splattering over the ground as it launched back- 

 

And then, with a flicker of red, Crust couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“WELCOME, HOW WAS YOUR FLIGHT!”

 

“You know- skies were clear, the wind was hot, and I like to think I made it in  good time!”

 

Kunai glanced up, a familiar look of relief in his eyes, while, from behind the wall, Sai looked on with his sole good eye, crouched behind a pair of shields to give him enough cover to bandage his wounds.

 

“Hawks-” 

 

But then the scratch of claws on stone made them twist back- Crust throwing a shield back towards the sound even as Kunai flickered out of the way- but a half second late.

 

The splatter of blood splashed across the ground- and was matched by the blur of red feathers that tore through the air, ripping into the shrieking form of the Nomu.

 

“KUN!”

 

As the blur of feathers wove and intercepted the invisible figure- Sai sprinted free of his cover, running towards the figure of his comrade- bloodied form falling from the kunai lodged in a storefront.

 

Crust could only grimace as he charged for the mass of feathers- just as the monster lunged his way, clawing free of the blade like feathers- the edges scraping away flesh and carving into the bone beneath leaving the creature flayed and feral.

 

The crunch of the shield into face was satisfying in an all too vindictive way.

 

A minute later, as the cooling corpse of the Nomu lay dismembered on the ground, he reached for his earpiece.

 

“We need an ambulance to my location. We have two pro’s in critical condition. Staying to assist.” as he closed the line, he glanced up to the number 3 hero. “Hawks- thanks.”

 

As the hero gave a salute, already talking into his own earpiece as he rose up and away, while a swarm of red feathers followed behind as he streaked away towards the fight that was still left.

 

Crust could only hope they could end this soon.

 

Then

The door opened with a hiss, revealing a small storage area- the door to the kitchen itself ahead of him. As he stepped in, the door behind him slid shut- and locked.

 

‘Fuck.’

 

As he stepped forwards to the inner door- and saw the small view port in the folding surface show a beady gaze, he raised the case.

 

“Delivery?”

 

“Open. I must see. Show me the trophy.” 

 

‘Great. I need to holster my axe for that… Fine.”

 

His axe had already been held just next to the hook on his belt- ergonomics at work, it was the matter of a second to relax his grip and leave it hanging. Slow and calm, Izuku reached up with his now free hand and cracked the case open, the engraved golden coin on display among black felt.

 

“One culinary medal. Freshly recovered for you, chef.”

 

The eye was.. Twitchy, dancing across Izuku’s form- but it kept locking on the gold of the medal. Some sort of… obsession? Manic twitch? The terminology didn’t quite fit but it was clear that the medal was important to the imposter. Memory bleed from the source? From the records and memories that Izuku had, he knew that ‘Bleed Effect’, unintended memories from the Neuromod Donor, could be picked up and transferred. It was an active problem for neuromod injections- and why Izuku was learning his past runs and kept getting more and more information and flashes of his lost memories.

The thing is- Izuku’s memories were already his . They slid back into place way easier than someone else's would, he carried the context for them. If a neuromod memory was too strong or implanted wrong- it could possibly overwhelm something else. 

 

‘And even this piecemeal understanding is based on the fragments- memories of this very incident aligning- along with a sensation of… Betrayal.’

 

Izuku’s eyes flicked up- a faint hissing finally coming to his senses as he noticed a valve above him was cracked open- and with a curse he reached up and tapped his helmet- the unfolding triangles hiding his view for a fraction of a second even as the scent of something… citrous and acetone hit his senses.

 

As he stepped back, hand coming down towards his axe- helmet flickering as the lenses came into alignment- he heard the door ahead of him opening- and the first thing he managed to see through the lenses was a heavy set figure barrel his way.

 

‘Fuck.’

 

The start of the fight was close and brutal- the imposter had a head and a half on him, and probably half a hundred kilos in weight- and the first thing he did was slam Izuku back and up into the wall with one arm braced across his chest, the impact sending the axe from nerveless fingers.

 

The still forming EVA helmet shattered apart- the fabricated panels falling apart under stress, even as Izuku slammed a boot down, feeling as much as hearing as the bone of the guy’s ankle shattered under his heel- before the imposter was wrestling a bundled cloth up towards his now exposed face, swearing in thickly accented words that Izuku didn’t know.

 

The scent of acetone-citrus was back, with a vengeance, and as Izuku tried to escape- the armbar across his chest held him in place, the squeezing force making him exhale against his will.

 

It was only as the rag was shoved in his mouth- the scent and acrid taste overwhelming that his left hand managed to pull the handgun- upside down and awkwardly, from his belt- and with a scramble of his pinky- fire it.

 

As the imposter shouted in pain, and shoved Izuku to the side, his head was already spinning with the fumes, as he spat the rag out and tried to recover-

 

‘Chloroform, or something like it-’

 

And as he turned he was kicked in the gut- the force of the impact outright picking him up and sending him slamming back into the wall.

 

“BRAT! Little IMP. ”

 

As Izuku shook his head, he took in the sight of the imposter, one hand pressed to his side as blood pooled around his fingers. 

 

“Fuck OFF.” As the big form tried to close, Izuku got his breath, ignored the way his head was twisting with disorientation, and threw a full body punch, taking the big fucker right in the knee- only to catch a hammer blow to the shoulder and slam him across the tight closet into a shelving unit- the entire thing collapsing under the impact- chemicals and cleaning supplies spilling across the ground- and giving Izuku a chance to see the imposter stagger through the door back into the dining area- before the doorclosed and locked again.

 

As Izuku pushed up to follow, head spinning from that overpowering scent of citrus , he realized the vent above him was still hissing.

 

It was the work of seconds for his left hand, with the gloo-launcher still intact- to seal the vent.

 

But he still needed to get out of the tight room with it’s already contaminated air- and with no other real option, Izuku staggered into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him before pacing away into the brightly lit kitchen, forcing himself to breath deep and exhale hard- to cycle the air and poison from his lungs.

 

‘And now the fucking imposter is loose. God Fucking Dammit.

---

Now

Revenant ducked a sweep of the tail, gleaming red spikes passing through the smoke and dust within half a meter of him- but not aimed his way.

 

The dust and ash being kicked up by the tussle of giants- Ryukyu’s flapping wings and the way that Cestus smashed into the buildings around the plaza throwing more than enough concealment for his work.

 

He had to swing past the corpse of the winged Nomu for supplies, but as Izuku darted through the smoke- he hooked another bundle of material in a length of charred paracord.

 

‘Cestus is covered from too many directions. The club-arm and still intact hand are enough of a threat as it is- but with the tail to counter balance and brace its movements, as well as cover its back and rear, it can’t be toppled easily. The tail needs to go.’

 

As he readied the loops of rope around his wrist- one end tied to the handle of a dagger in his hand, the other clipped onto his belt harness.

 

‘Thankfully-’ As he got close, his mask’s optics pierced through the dust with the augmented infrared sight, he locked eyes on his target. The lower chunk of spine that held the muscled anchorpoint of the tail, and the clear divot in the armor and crystal around the first ‘joint’ of the limb. ‘Even at the size of a small building, everything has joints that need clearance.’

 

Breathing deep, he tapped his comm.

“Going for the tail joint. Keep him upright.”

 

Before anyone could reply on the line, he was already moving.

 

A chunk of rubble half his height- exposed brickwork sloping up in easy stepping range as he leapt- shattering the rubble as he gave a solid kick to throw himself higher, nearly a story up- just in time to hook a gloved hand around a chunk of bone and crystal that hung around the hip joint of the monster.

 

Swinging slightly, he steadied himself by bracing his boots along the bone covered thigh of the back left leg, and waiting as the tail swung back his way- before leaping.

 

In his off hand- he slammed the dagger into one side of the tail- rolling with the motion over the tail, paracord sliding through his fingers as he swung down and around- using the motion of the tail itself to swing back under the tail before kicking off and almost completing the loop. With a grimace, he reached out, fingers clawing as the muscle to get him one more lunge- the swing of the tail going back giving him just enough clearance to reach up- a carabiner clipping a loop of his cord back to itself- clipping on the line pulled taunt from the dagger.

 

Another flash of spiral energy washed over Nomu's face far above, forcing it to flinch- a thick bone like brow that had been growing over its eye sockets taking the impact- and making the entire monster take a step- and nearly throwing Revenant from his perch as the muscles above him bunched- the tail flicking up and out. 

 

Breathing out, he kicked off the tail- rappelling down the cord and throwing himself clear of the legs as they crunched through the rubble.

 

Twisting back, he eyed the fuses wrapped around the handle of the dagger.

 

“Lighting the tail- keep clear of the thermite.”

 

“Thermite? Where did you get-”

 

Izuku tuned out Nejire-chan’s commentary as he lifted up the plasma cutter, tapping the emitter to horizontal and bracing it with his left arm- the glowing blue dots of his emitters tracing over swaying muscle as the tail swung over him- air ripping by the passage, dust and ash drawn in its wake.

 

Revenant ignored it, steadying his shot-

 

A trio dart of superheated plasma shot from his grip- and with a splash, the rope and fuses attached to the dagger began to spark.

 

And Izuku ducked back into the smoke and ash- getting distance from the fallout.

---

Then

Izuku had entered the fridge to actually find some Ice- just to slow the swelling around his ribs enough to actually wrap them- but he wasn’t expecting this.

 

He spat bile into the corner, a mix of rage and sheer fucking disgust in his chest.

 

He had found Will Mitchel’s tracking bracelet. And his body.

 

Or… the box that had what was left.

 

Fuck.

 

The cook had been butchered. Carved up into little pieces, wrapped in foil, and tucked into a box in the freezer. He had only noticed when his transcribe had picked up the signal of Mitchell’s tracking bracelet.  

 

Which was in the box.

 

Shoving the box back on the shelf, Izuku stepped back and closed his eyes.

 

‘A cannibalistic, murderous, and Psionic Immune killer. One who’s got enough technical know how to make chloroform and remote lock doors.’

 

He was having sudden flashbacks to outlast. But worse.

 

Because this wasn’t someone who was inhuman, who had been shoved in a twisted vat of nanites until they weren’t even close to sane… or at least, not the same way. The Imposter was human. Had acted human. Twitchy and erratic- sure, but aware.  

 

And he had chosen to chop the chef into bits.

 

Moving back from the first fridge, Izuku took a breath to steady himself, and looked at the other two rooms in the freezer.

 

In the first- well. He found the imposter's weapon stash. A shotgun, two handguns, and a box of assorted ammo on one shelf- and a variety of suit pieces on the other- included the ripped and crumpled remains of a green and white prisoners suit- and a replacement helmet/collar system for Izuku’s own. Snagging it, he pocketed the ammo, and glanced at the weapons. The shotgun and one of the pistols was nothing special- but the other handgun wasn’t the standard silenced PPN-8. It was, for starters, gold.  And it had a sight.

 

As he lifted it up, his memories clicked- An Artemis sporting pistol- for competition grade shooting. High precision, low recoil- reflex sight for better target alignment.

 

He turned it over- ejecting the magazine to check it used the same 9mm ammo as the rest of his guns, before tucking it away in his bag. He would need to see how it held up- and he still needed to recover his other modded PPN from the anteroom on the way out.

 

Turning to the last room, he found what he was hoping he wouldn’t.

 

Another three bodies, one male and two women. They hadn’t gotten… the treatment of the cook. But all three were laid out on a cleared set of shelves- boxes of veg and fruit shoved aside to make room for the adult bodies.

 

And beyond that- he recognized one.

 

Abigail Foy… The lover of Danielle Sho. 

 

She was laying there- the side of her head bloodied and gaze unseeing.

 

It looked like it had been quick- if nothing else. Possibly tricked by the chef? Or ambushed.

 

But- tucked into the breast pocket of her suit was a flashing light. 

 

Her Transcribe.

 

Carefully, Izuku pulled it from her body, taking a moment to reach up and close the woman’s eyes.

 

But as he opened the transcribe- unsecured, surprisingly… he found an audio file.

 

From Danielle.

 

Closing his eyes and taking a breath to prepare for the worst… he pressed play.

 

“Abby! I’m still in Deep Storage. I don’t know why you won’t pick up… I hope you’re safe. If things get bad, I’ll jettison a datavault and spacewalk along the hull. Come to the Fitness Center. Bang on the window by the pool- and I should feel the vibration. Abby… Please- don’t take any chances, I-... Be Safe.”

 

As the recording ended, Izuku exhaled, breath misting in the icy air of the freezer.

 

“Fuck. She might be alive."

---

Now

Cestus roared and twisted, claws lashing out at the wreckage around it as it searched for the source of the plasma, it’s flail-like arm sweeping through the dust-

 

But for all that it was searching for the threat- it didn’t realize it was too late.

 

A trio of magnesium fuses triggered, one after another, and the sizzle of burning cord was replaced by the ignition of white hot spots- a series of sharp hisses and charring skin only the prelude before the three points of shining metal bloomed into larger streams of sparking and spitting red metal- as the thermite charges cooked off and lit up.

 

In seconds, the cord holding them all in line was gone- but by that point the thermite was digging gouges into the thick muscle and flesh of the tail joint.

 

For a moment Cestus clearly didn’t even know. The smoke and light of the growing wound behind it and out of sight- and the dulled and senseless flesh of its outer casing unaware of the damage.

 

But deep inside the limb- encased in the bone structure of the tail, and beneath layers of crystal sheathing- there were nerves, to control muscles and keep the balance in check- and as the heated metal dug deeper- the first of the nerves began to burn- and Cestus roared in pain, clawed hand and flail limb tried to scrambled at it’s own back and sides, attempting to reach the burning channel in it’s flesh- just in time for Ryuku to take the opening and tackle the nomu- staggering it back across the plaza, into the open where another beam from Nejire splashed across it’s face- forcing it head to duck down and to try and shield it’s eyes-

 

Before a bloom of plasma shot up from the dust cloud and popped those eyes- the Nomu reeling back and thrashing.

 

Even during all this- the burning continued, bone carbonizing and melting under the touch of thermite as the tail lashed out violently- trying to shake the thermite loose but only letting it dig deeper and deeper into the flesh of the Nomu-

 

As Ryukyu rounded for another tackle- Cestus finally managed to respond in time, its unmarred left arm slamming into the dragons flank- crystal claws and spines scratching and shredding lines through her reinforced qipao over where her scales covered the curve of her rib cage and leaving shallow jagged red lines- proof it could pass through her scales, but too unsteady and unprepared to punch deep enough to count.

 

And, to Ryukyu’s pleasure, without the counterbalance of the tail- that same counterattack left the titan unbalanced.

 

With a roar of surpremency- Ryukyu continued her assault- and tackled Cestus dead center in the lower torso- throwing it off its feet with a thunderous crash-

 

And with a sickening snap the tail went limp- leaving Cestus roaring in pain and fury at the damage to its form.

 

Damage Ryukyu capitalized on.

 

As the two massive creatures grappled and wrestled, Ryukyu finally managed to twist and grind the creature’s face and good arm into the ground- leaving Ryukyu a chance to get her jaws around the flesh of the tail. The taste of the flesh was bitter, the bone plates scraping her maw as she tightened and began to pull, Cestus’s torso splayed out- the flail-like arm pinned beneath its own mass and the clawed hand out of reach of her face and neck.

The first tug was difficult- the acrid smoke at the base of the tail billowing forth even as her tug revealed blackened and scorched flesh and the glow of still burning thermite. Her second came with the sensation of something starting to give- a touch of extra reach matched by the feel of the tail bending wrong at the burned and ruined stump.

 

Finally, she braced herself, and with a massive shake of her neck and shoulders- ripped it free.  

 

The spray of blood was miniscule- the splattering of glowing thermite on the ground only matched by the beads that stay burned and sticking to the stump- cauterizing the flesh.

 

Giving a bloody roar of victory- and with Cestus still pinned beneath her- she twisted and slammed back down on the monster- pinning it face down deeper into the ground- a rear claw planting dead center in its small of its back to pin it there- as her claws began to dig in- a smashing blow shattering the crystal spikes and stripes that rose from along its spine- revealing the bone plates beneath- ignoring the wild clawing and bashing of its crystal studded arm as it tried to flail behind it’s back- the hero’s claws dug into flesh- and then past the outer skin and into the dense layers of bone that comprised the shoulder blades of the Nomu.

 

For long moments, the roaring of the monster was only made louder as Ryukyu’s jaw came down- teeth digging into the mass of its spine- trying to rip through the thick muscles and bone structures to reach whatever motivating force was inside- because Ryukyu had seen the estimation of the death tolls- had seen the count going up even as she raced to assist- had heard of Miruko, of her best friend , suffering a toxic wound that could cost her a leg.

 

And beneath the draconic facade of Ryukyu- Tatsuma Ryuko was enraged.

 

It was only the slow building red glow and the message of her intern over the comms that broke her of her mauling of the monster.

 

“Ryukyu- Crystals incoming- disengage!”

 

Nejire’s voice over the comm, still in Ryukyu’s ears thanks to the efforts of an exceptional support tech’s adhesives and ergonomics, blared at her and she growled before pushing off- using the motion to give one last dig at the spinal column, cracking bone layers and ripping nearly half of Cestus’s neck tore away with the motion as she launched off and into the air, even as the bands of crystal across the Nomu’s body all began to glow a violent red color-

 

Another voice- young but focused and with alarming clarity roared over the comms- Miruko’s intern. “ALL HANDS BRACE! AVOID THE CRYSTAL SHARDS IN THE AREA!”

 

And below her she could see it. It wasn’t just the shards on the Nomu- it was all the shards, every chunk of crystal or discarded spike that had embedded in the ground or snapped off- it was all growing.

 

As Cestus roared in sheer rage, maimed and injured badly enough to matter for the first time the entire fight- they all grew .

 

What had once been a dust and ash covered colosseum- a clear arena of scorched pavement and crumbling buildings- became a forest of red death.

 

A forest that kept growing . The spikes didn’t grow just up- a car’s wreck was lifted into the air- a star of spikes holding it above the pavement as they punched through the frame. More and more similar shapes rose up- stars made of blood red razor sharp crystal- and among the forest of red- more grew up and spiked away from the downed body of the Nomu- crystal blades growing from wounds and rising in a massive crystal ridge that forced the upright monster to slump forwards- a mountain of crystal pushing up out of it’s back like a flower made of razor blades.

 

More crystal spires punched through the ground- spikes and ridges shooting out from the front of buildings and from the rubble- forming an entire nest of protective crystal blades.

 

And in a wave- the crystal spines grew towards the rapidly diminishing crowd of survivors, those who were still watching screaming in surprise and fear as they ran from the encroaching wave..

 

Already dozens had been evacuated- the wounded and the burned being bundled into ambulances and volunteer cars- trucks and vans and street cars alike offered to ferry the survivors from the fight-

 

And at the edge- Ryukyu could even see the reporter- camera still rolling as they watched a Nomu turn the entire plaza into a growing crystalline deathtrap .

 

As the crystals rushed that way- Ryukyu growled and swung down, crushing and smashing through the edges of the crystals with her claws as Nejire joined her and blew the reaching crystals back into the nest- and couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief as red feathers rushed to ferry the last of the survivors from the splash zone.

 

Taking off, Ryukyu couldn’t help but growl in frustration at the suddenly changed battlefield.

 

What had been a cleared arena, with plenty of space to dodge- was now a nest of crystalline blades- and at the center, the sound of cracking signaled that Cestus wasn’t dead. Something was moving- crystals towers shifting and settling even as the sound of tearing flesh echoed through the nest.

 

As Ryukyu pulled back, flying above the edge of the nest as she tried to get a sightline on the monster- the comm crackled to life once more.

 

“-venant. Can you-SHhhh-Ear me? Cestus is- SHHHHTRRRHH-eat, Cestus is changing, be Shhzzttttzzz.”

 

Ryukyu paused, looking back at the nest with shock and worry.

 

The intern was still in there.

---

Then

Izuku leaned around the corner with a scowl, eyes tracing the main hall once more- he couldn’t see the imposter anywhere- or find any sign of him.

 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t around.

 

Pacing out from cover, handgun in grip and his spare holstered in easy reach- he cleared the center of the hall- before sprinting for the desk- cutting behind the still deactivated grav shafts to the executive rooms.

 

He rounded the far end without issue- but he noticed it. A trail of blood splatters, including a bloodied handprint- that led out of the crew quarters.

 

“ Fuck ” That means that the guy was free to do whatever he wanted, anywhere. Izuku swore under his breath and turned away- heading for the Gym. 

 

He had left it sealed off earlier, it had one of the largest bulkheads and an active security lockdown- and he also didn’t want to deal with a telepath throwing 15 kilo weights around- but he had a lead to a survivor now. And he had picked up the room code earlier as it was

 

The door opened with a quick tap of the keys effort- and with a touch of frustration in his hands, Izuku holstered his handgun and swung his shotgun down and walked across the hall from the door and into the locker room.

 

The first phantom to jump him regretted it. 

 

The greater mimic that followed didn’t last long. Nor did its two, lesser, cousins.

 

Sweeping the room clear, Izuku stepped back out and turned towards the entrance to the pool-

 

But as he glanced around the corner towards the pool- he swore.

 

Because there was another fucking telepath. And a thrall was standing- slumped and twitching with a purple haze around their head, in the doorway to the pool room.

 

He could just stun her… but no- he could see another indoctrinated hostage pass her, wandering around the pool. Fuck.

 

Leaning back around the corner, he closed his eyes and focused. He needed to avoid more dead civilians… Wait. He had passed some stairs just a second ago- to clear the locker room. There was also a weight room above him, and the pool room had high ceilings and what looked like panoramic windows…

 

Which gave good odds that the weightroom had a view.

 

One that looked over the pool.

 

Backtracking, Izuku jogged up the stairs and up, ducking around a phantom and blowing two holes through its torso as it tried to get the upper ground- he was getting used to how they moved, the tactical and weapon neuromods sharpening his speed and directing his blows.

 

With the phantom done- Izuku stepped into the weightroom and pulled the psychoscope down, crouching slightly to hide from view behind a treadmill..

 

And there- out of the window and floating above the center of the pool, was the telepath.

 

‘Right. Fuck you.’

 

Izuku pulled a nullwave transmitter from his bag, tossing it in the air with an idle motion as he measured distances- tapping the door to lock the entrance to the weightroom behind him.

 

And when he was ready, he stood- smashed the window out with his elbow, and fastballed the null transmitter dead center into the telepaths mass, before pulling up both handguns and opening fire.

 

Downside to going ‘Akimbo’ with both guns- it’s not very accurate or focused firepower.

 

Upside- it’s a lot of damage, and a Telepath is a big target.

 

Even as it shrieked in rage, and the various thralls began to shamble Izuku’s way, the telepath had no way to avoid damage. Its powers disrupted by the null transmitter- and Izuku unloading nearly a full forty rounds of 9mm into its face- it died before the first thrall got up the stairs, body dropping into the dried out pool below.

 

Not trusting that, Izuku threw a recycler charge on the corpse to be sure.

 

By the time the corpse was reduced to a bunch of shiney purple cubes, the thralls had all collapsed.

 

Which meant Izuku had nothing stopping him from clearing the rest of the gym, and walking up to the windows.

 

‘Please… Don’t be dead.’

 

Raising his wrench, he knocked on the glass- once.

 

Twice.

 

Three times..

 

Four.

 

And pause.

 

He waited.

 

One breath… Two..

 

As he rose the wrench once more- movement caught his eye.

 

From the corner of the window, from where she must have been tucked into the corner next to a support strut… someone in a full EVA suit was waving at him.

 

And then- he got a call.

 

Incoming Caller: Danielle Sho.

---

Now

Izuku breathed out slowly, body contorted round the engine of a truck- the glowing red crystals around him slowly turning that pale lifeless gray-pink color. Which was good, because he was nearly pinned between the engine block of the truck and the crumpled hood of the car, which had deflected several larger spikes that had aimed to impale him.

 

When the first spikes had started growing- Izuku had tried to escape by getting close- but Cestus had replaced a good half of its mass with spikes already, and was shredding the nearby terrain. Only the crumpled and turned over remains of a truck had provided any meaningful cover- because for all the crystals was sharp and growing fast- it didn’t have the speed or toughness to punch through the freshly fire hardened steel frame or engine compartment of the truck. Ducking into the engine compartment had been a last second decision, and had required a tight fit to get enough of an opening to duck inside and press against the engine block before the car itself was pushed by the growing masses, tipped nearly upside down.

 

Now though- most of the nearby spikes were the same dull gray-pink, only a few of the larger crystals stretching out into the sky or digging furrows into the earth were the same bright crimson- and even they were slowly dulling in color.

 

But this also meant that Cestus was out of ammo for environmental shenanigans.

 

Raising his boot, Izuku stomped on a branch of the crystal that blocked his exit- shattering it into flakes like it was spun from sugar.

 

Aas he rose free from safety around the engine- he saw that things were going to be annoying.

 

He could see the mass of Cestus- hanging from the massive nest of the crystals- surrounded by remains of the vibrant red that had torn the rest of the area apart.

 

And more than that- he could see the damage. 

 

The neck and head of the monster was practically replaced by crystals- torn and deformed by massive spines of red that shot into the ground- the head itself practically torn off already by the combination of a growing crystal spine that shot through its own jaw and neck, and the ravaging done by Ryukyu.

 

But there wasn’t any blood there. Not any new blood. 

 

Only a few stains that were slowly darkening around the Maw marks.

 

But the eyes, scarred and blistered, were also lifeless.

 

Ducking and weaving through the crystals- Izuku’s memories of the Duke’s Archives- and of Seath the Scaleless’s lair, were once more front and center.

 

And he had faced enough bosses to recognize what was happening, but he needed confirmation.

 

And as he rounded another cluster of dulling crystal- he got it.

 

The torso and legs of cestus… were deforming.

 

Blisters were forming, skin and armor bubbling, as if whatever was inside was reshaping its flesh- the flail-like arm was already being deformed, the crystals left to hang above as the shoulder seems to… fall apart.

 

But- from the center of the torso, ripping free from the shoulder- a thin and skeletal mass was drawn, wrapped in tight layers of red muscle and flesh as dull grey skin began began to creep along the new limb.

 

‘Fuck. It’s abandoning what it can’t use-.’

 

Reaching up to tap his comms, he tried to get a message out, hidden behind cover.

 

“This Is Revenant. Can you hear me? Cestus is still a threat! Cestus is changing , be advised it is still alive!”

 

He listened- but only static came to him. And he cursed.

 

Fuck.

 

Right. Until he heard otherwise- he was on his own.

 

And Izuku was never a fan of letting an enemy complete a transformation.

 

Drawing Blight-killer once more, Revenant charged in.

 

He was too late.

 

With a sickening tearing of flesh- the torso of Cestus writhed  

 

And as the neck and shoulders tore apart- a smaller creature- if no less monstrous, opened its eyes. Rising on the four feet of the larger titan, nearly half its original mass, but even less human in form.

 

Across a dome of flesh- with dozens of bone plates and spines of crystal that were slowly growing like a sea urchin on legs, a myriad of eyes tore open, skin ripping to reveal them even as arms of bone and crystalline muscle began to flex, blades and claws stretching from it’s grasp.

 

It had no mouth, so it could not scream.

 

It had no tail to whip and protect its rear.

 

It was a mere two stories compared to its original height.

 

But where the Titanic form Cestus had once worn fought from its durability and gargantuan strength- this new form was nimble.

And as it saw the charging Revenant- it smashed blades and claws together- revealing freshly honed edges of gleaming red crystal.

 

Among the ash and dead crystal- they clashed once more.

Notes:

Sorry for the several month delay- I wanted this up before the end of the year but work and the holidays were a nightmare to write during.

Beyond that! The Dead Space Remake came out, which is fucking awesome, and I'll be playing it- likely Monday and Tuesday over on the twitch.

Chapter 60: Raid Boss: Final Blow

Summary:

Cestus Must Die

Now

Revenant flowed through the lash of bladed claws, of twisting curved red crystal, the edges razor sharp and wickedly fast. They carved down, only for the tips to rip into and shatter across the ground as Izuku dove to the left.

 

With a twist- the other claw he was passing under scythed back towards him and out, forcing Revenant to snap his blade up and out to catch the crystalline structure mid backswing. With a shatter, shards of red crystal sprayed through the air. Izuku danced through the gleaming red and cut closer, only for the torso to shift and twist. The first clawed hand already reached out with regrown crystal blades- only to miss as Izuku threw himself between the left leg and the ground- twisting under the knee and drawing the blade of the sword around the inside of the limb, cutting deep enough to glance some kind of bone before sliding back out.

 

The legs were still long and multi-joined, remainders of the original titan, though much of the armor and thick plating had sloughed off, leaving spiderlike tensed limbs that- as Cestus demonstrated by leaping back- more than compensated for the damage. With another leap, its body launched nearly a half-dozen meters to the side, landing on a mass of crystal, before taking off. Izuku moved to shadow it, tracking it as it climbed and crawled along the ridges of one of the massive crystal spires that intersected high above the plaza, rising above the more densely packed field of razor’s that covered the floor.

 

‘Damn, he’s heading for the civilians- gotta intercept.’

 

Izuku took in the forest of crystal around him, handgun coming up to fire and shatter a distant  up- taking in the bramble of massive crystals- before a gleam of red among the gray caught his eye- the freshly shattered claws and crystal spines around him flickering a red color. By the time the first spikes shot out, Izuku was already moving, darting to the side even and smashing through a wall of smaller crystals, sword first to clear his path.

 

But that was fine.

 

Izuku was already locked on his next destination and with a series of rubble, crystal shards, and the bent and ruined remains of a lamppost- rose higher up, before landing on the flat face of another massive crystal. Even being careful, Izuku felt the base of the broad spike crack slightly from his landing, and as he began to sprint up it’s shallow slope on angle to intercept Cestus, it swayed and shifted more and more- only Izuku’s deft balance keeping him moving almost three stories up, before leaping onto another crystal- even larger- that sloped towards Cestus’s path.

 

Even now, as the Nomu skittered along the interlocking crystal, it was leaving acrid black-red mass that splattered the crystal in its wake, sloughing from its form as it ditched unneeded flesh and armor for balance and speed. But even with Cestus’s most recent changes- Revenant showed he was far faster than it, gaining on the monster by taking higher and more fragile paths, leaving shattered steps behind him as he darted around the higher peaks, before sliding back down into the mass as he caught back up. 

 

A spray of plasma blooming across the crystal drew it’s attention- Cestus skittering higher and even traversing upside down as it raced up another cluster of crystal spires to meet Izuku's path.

 

Clawed talons pushing from its feet, excess flesh peeling off as the limbs narrowed- bone claws snapping out from broad padded soles to clamp onto the crystal surface, cracking and digging into the crystal even as it hung inverted, before swinging from spire to spire, circling around a pillar of crystal towards Izuku’s path before leaping to close the gap- twisting to lash out with fresh spines of red aimed at Revenant- only to meet the teen’s sword as he twisted into the fray, blade and armored gauntlet extended through the mess.

 

Blight-killer shattered spines of red- breaking through the first half-dozen of the spikes before Izuku twisted up and lashed out to meet the freshly regrow claws- before feinting as he hooked a foot around Cestus’s knee and pulled himself down and out of the arc of its other arm as it scythed through the space above his torso.

 

For a long moment the two were a mess of twisting and awkward motions, even with its new nearly omni-directional sight from the myriad of eyes and its long and nimble claws and spines, Cestus couldn’t keep track of Midoriya. Because Izuku was smaller.

 

And faster.

 

It was a contortionist’s nightmare- Izuku using his enemy’s very flesh as a jungle gym- twisting around rapidly growing red crystals and slashing at gleaming eyes- kicks and his free hand redirecting pushing off bone armor and pulling him around the gleaming claws and between the spindly legs.

 

Blood dripped from severed skin and wounded eyes- the damaged areas blistering and bubbling as they regenerated- even as new eyes cracked open along the seams of thick armor plating, twitching and tracking the fighter who engaged it- 

 

But Izuku could only be so close for so long-

 

A catch between upswinging razor claws and rapid spines- the edges branching out like razor tipped antlers- and Revenant had a choice of impalement or being launched off the torso in a high arc-

 

He took the throw- using Cestus’s own thrashing limb to throw him clear.

 

Twisting in mid air- eyes tracing his path up above- and down below him- he landed boots first on the underside of another spire above the Nomu, and tensed and tightened his core. Even as his upward momentum dissipated and gravity began to tug at him- green eyes traced his options, hands moving with a deft confidence as the sword in his grip was flipped around, blade coming to rest in his grip- the hilt facing out like a cross shaped totem. A crucifix held against a most unholy foe.

With a grin of fury - Izuku uncoiled like a spring let free, shooting back down towards the spire Cestus perched on.

 

The Nomu was ready- lashing out at where it expected Izuku’s next approach to come from-

 

Only to land short.

 

Because Revenant wasn’t aiming at Nomu.

 

No, Revenant hit the spire just outside of Cestus’s bladed range- and with a two-handed grip on the blade, gleaming edge braced against his gloved palms and the broad cross of its handguard raised high- he brought of Blight-killer down in a murderstroke, the shaped cross of his hilt focusing the entire force of his swing and dive into a single point-

 

To shatter the already cracked spire they were both on.

 

With a ring and the echo of shattering glass- their footing was reduced to dust and gleaming flakes of crystal- sending both breeds of monster falling down into the depths of the maze once more, falling through a swirl of dark gray shards-

Izuku twisted, the mass of Blight-killer sliding through his grip as he dragged the blade past his side and spun it to face down- before using the last of his footing to push off a shard of crystal- diving down above the torso of Cestus- and as they crashed to the ground.

 

Cestus hit first with a crack of bone and the shatter of crystals across the ruined plaza, bouncing back up half a meter as the reinforced torso took the blow and flexed with the motion- trying to protect it’s precious inner cargo-

 

Before Revenant slammed down swordpoint first, driving the tip of the blade straight through the bone plating of Cestus’s upper torso- even as a scattering of fresh red crystal shards shot up and shattered and cracked against his own armor- several shards scratching gouges through his chest armor and ripping at the fur of his collar and drawing a jagged mark across the lens of his mask.

 

But even as Cestus convulsed under him-

 

‘Damn. Not deep enough. The tip skated up.’

 

Indeed, instead of pinning directly through the torso’s center, his blade had sliced a gouge up and to the left of his target- before punching through.

 

With a muffled roar from inside Cestus’s torso- the eyes locked onto Izuku and the closest red claw snapped up and swept across- 

 

Grimacing, Revenant threw himself back and off of the Nomu- dodging the claw and leaving his sword nearly half its length deep into the torso of Cestus.

 

Landing on the dust and ash covered ground, boots crunching through the powder as he got distance, reassessing his options.

 

As the Nomu tried to thrash, pushing off the ground and to its feet- a beam of twisting blue-gold slammed into the torso knocking Cestus back deeper into the crystalline maze, a trail of dust and ash scattering in its wake.

 

“-er me now? REV-ant?”

 

“I hear you, Nejire.” Izuku responded to the open channel, annoyed by the slightly glitchy and high pitched interference he was still getting.

 

And he was now without his sword for a bit.

Great.

 

Reaching up over his shoulder he snagged the handle of his shotgun, unclipping it from where it was attached along his spine after the highway fight and dealing with Miruko. Pulling it forwards, the shoulder stock and grip unfolded, resuming the weapons full size.

 

As Cestus clawed itself free from the crystals- he began to slide shells into his shotgun.

 

After the highway- he had only three of the magnum rounds left- but still had a full count of buckshot. 

 

“ Ryukyu is clearing the path out for the ambulances- some of the crystals collapsed the building near their exit and she’s protecting the last of the injured.”

 

“Great. So it’s you and me?”

 

Nejire lowered, hovering only a few meters above and to his side, eyes scanning the mess of collapsed crystal as Cestus rose and shook shattered crystal off its body, sword still embedded nearly dead center on its torso- instead of claws it’s arms were much larger and simpler crescent blades. The five-pointed claws were abandoned in favor of pendulum shaped curves- cleaving axeblades of cutting force.

 

“Seems like it!”

 

Sliding one last shell into the breech- Izuku nodded. “Try and keep up.”

 

And with that- he charged forwards, steel soles cracking the stone as he went from still to launching his way across the area- even as Cestus launched itself out to meet them.

---

Then

“Holy Shit. Midoriya?”

 

Danielle- and it had to be her, who else, even with the helmet deployed he could see the nametag on her suit.

 

“Wait- if you’re here… then Abby didn’t make it. Did she?”

 

Izuku winced at thtat, memories of her frozen corpse filling his mind. “Yeah.”

 

The suited figure looked down, before exhaling sharply. “If you’re up here- but I haven’t seen Morgan or Alex. What are you doing here?”

 

“Trying to unlock Deep Storage. I need a blueprint that Morgan left behind.”

 

“Damn it- I voice locked that earlier. Set your transcribe to record, I have the override.”

 

A matter of seconds is all Izuku needs to start recording the conversation. “Ready.”

 

“Alex. Oedipus Complex. Pompous. Nepotist.”

 

Izuku couldn’t help a chuckle. “Alex really doesn’t make easy friends.”

 

“I feel sorry for Morgan.”

 

“Thanks, Sho.”

 

“Midoriya! Watch your step. There’s someone else who was in Crew Quarters. He was pretending to be a Cook. His bracelet was from Psychotronics, but the ID didn’t make any sense-”

 

“Don’t worry, we already met.” Izuku scowled as he looked away. “He… He's the one that got Abby.”

 

The full body flinch was visible even through the suit. “I… was worried, when she didn’t respond. But- Goddamn it.”

 

“Sho, I-”

“Midoriya. He can’t get off the station. He- he just can’t.”

Izuku hesitated, taking in the terse anger of her form. “Yeah. I agree. I’ll take care of it.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do from out here-” There was a beep- the O2 warning sound for her suit. “For as long as I can, at least. ”

 

“Wait! Sho”, looking back at his transcribe, Izuku quickly dragged her ID to his whitelist for the security system. “The external hatches in Hardware and Psychotronics are open. If you can, go for the main Lobby. I’ve reinforced it, Morgan's office should hold out for a while. I’m sending other survivors that way. Be careful.”

 

The helmeted figure nodded one last time. “I will. See you, Midoriya.”

 

Maneuvering to grab the windowsill- she pushed off and away. 

 

For a long moment all Izuku could do was watch before she disappeared behind the corner.

 

Taking a long breath, he turned back, facing into the depths of the station once more.

 

However, before he could continue on, he got a message- from Sho.

 

Sho: Check the sealed storage locker in Abigail's room. Code 3443. She was complaining about an engineering project that was too dangerous to be left around… might help.

 

‘Huh… that sounds useful.’

---

Now

Nejire was no stranger to working as part of a team. She regularly sparred and trained with Mirio and Tamaki, ran missions with Ryukyu, and even worked with some of the second years on occasion as a tutor. She was well known for her skills at fire support and suppressing enemies during the third year classes, often acting as ‘Air support’ for exercises and combat training.

 

But none of that quite prepared her for working with Revenant.

 

He gave her clear firing lines, but not by flanking or backing off- but by calling shots. “Left shoulder.”

 

And then- even as her spirals washed up and slammed against the target- Revenant was already exploiting it- striking up and through the wash of her strikes- the gleaming gold and blue energy washing off his form even as he called a new target.

 

And that was before she considered just how he was fighting.

 

Losing his sword and swapping to shotgun apparently just meant that he stopped cutting and just started beating the big Nomu with the shotgun like he was owed 2000 Yen and was gonna make a punk regret it. Of course, the gun was still- you know, a gun - as shown by the way that one of the larger groups of eyes was a mulched hole, but instead of unloading shot after shot into the flesh of the Nomu, Revenant was swarming it, shattering crystal and cracking bone plates with the butt and stock of his shotgun even as he used the barrel and shroud to club and deflect the lashing claw- 

 

Firing another stream of energy in, she hit one of the plates Izuku had already cracked- the gray and red surface shattering under her blast- and then exploding in a wave of gore as Izuku took advantaged and unloaded two shots, quick as can be, into the wound- 

 

And for the first time she could see it- under all the armor, all the eyes and flesh, was a ribcage of bone densely knotted- and, for a moment, she saw something glowing red inside-, before an arm came sweeping up and covered the wound- the entire Nomu leaping back and away- skittering further into the field of crystal-

 

“Nejire, your blasts are kinetic, right?”

 

She darted back and up, looking down at Revenant who was chasing the Nomu at a distance- ignoring as several new thorny masses of crystal spewed in Cestus’s wake.

 

“That’s what the support class calls them, yeah! Kinetic force beams!”

 

“Good. I’m going to get in close, stay high. On my call- shoot me with the strongest wave you feel is safe.”

 

For a moment, Nejire blinked, before a grin stretched across her face.

“SURE!”

---

Then

Izuku threw himself back down the stairs, wincing as the effect of a recycler charge went off- warping the decorative railing along the top of the stairs and nearly dragging him in himself.

 

“Fuck.”

 

So, fun fact of the day with Midoriya.

 

The cook?

He knew how to make recycler charges into proximity mines.

 

Plus, he had taken the entire time Izuku had tracked down Danielle to leave the fucking things everywhere.

 

The cooks blood trail led up into the atrium, before it got muddled. The cook had hit up a stash of supplies in a security office, and seemed to have gotten patched up. The occasional smears of blood were quickly reduced to smaller specks and the signs of his traps or passage- a dead typhon at the top of the walkway, a broken window- but the blood wasn't gone. More than once Izuku could see a few drops, signs that he wasn't healed, not completely.

 

And now, the path split.

 

Ahead and around the curve of the Atrium was deep storage- but the last dead mimic he found was at the doors up to the station's bridge.

 

Izuku gauged his options, adjusting the straps that held the shotgun across his back, his newest too, the experimental Q-beam, hanging below it. In position to be hefted up and pulled around his side.

 

‘Go for the objective… or deal with the murderer before he has prep time. There really isn’t a choice here.’

 

Checking the magazine for his handgun, he tapped the door control for the bridge, staying to the side as he scanned the hallway for traps-

 

But as he turned his first corner- seeing the way the route split, he paused. 

 

To his right and up a few steps was the Bridge- but to his left and down a grav-shaft, was a bank of escape pods.

 

And if Izuku was an insane criminal on the run- he knows what his first response would be.

 

Two minutes later, as he disabled another recycler mine, he knew he was on the right track.

---

Now

‘5.’

 

Izuku swayed back, ducking the swinging blade of one arm before darting forwards and twisting as the other stabbed back his direction, smashing the point wide off point with the barrel shroud of the shotgun- before slamming the butt of the gun down, cracking through already weakened armor around it’s extended knee just as Nejire blasted it forward from behind- forcing the entire Nomu forward and off balance- just enough for him to brace the gun against another fault point on the armored torso- steel beads ripping a hole through into the hollow inner chamber- where a screeching echoed from the wound- more evidence that the ‘Real’ Cestus was tucked inside.

 

‘6. That’s the end of buckshot. 3 slugs left.’

 

Which was also his best chance of finishing this fight.

 

But only if he could get a clear shot inside.

 

He darted back, pushing off and low- and felt a bit of cold damp air on his skin.

 

‘Time to finish this.’

 

“Nejire, it’s time- go high and get ready for my call.”

 

“Roger!”

He took a deep breath, letting the sensation of his pulse doubling race through him, his muscles being flooded with fresh oxygen even as he washed away the slow build up of burning lactic acid. 

 

For a second he let himself be tired . That burning ache of energy spent and action taken- the weight of his armor, the pulse of his blood as it carried acid to clear away his limbs, the way his throat and jaw were dry, the air still so warm and dry even now- the itch as small cuts and scraped away skin was sealing and scabbing over.

 

But he reached deeper, into reserves yet untouched, into the place where the pain faded to reveal far more dangerous aspects, where his mind stretched out with that animalistic hate and predatory rage- the parts of him where instinct and action blurred into something feral. Something unnatural . 

 

Cestus turned his way, a new eye on the torso looking Izuku’s direction- and the sword coming back into sight, pushed higher up by regrown armor that had begun to encroach up the blade.

 

Revenant was ready for it. By the time it looked his way, he had brought the shotgun up- braced against his shoulder, one gleaming green eye peeking through his mask’s lens as he lined up his shot- body leaning forwards and tensed like a sprinter at the starting block-

 

And with a bang- he was off- already pushing off the ash covered ground even as the shaped metal round blew into the eye and burst it- digging into the center of the monster- throwing it back and off balance as the round found something valuable inside.

 

Another step- The ground falling away as he leapt up and forwards, hand racking the slide to bring his second to last round forwards. 

 

A third- the flesh and bone of Nomu's knee and his metal sole meeting throwing him upwards. The fourth step on the upper ‘chest’ of Cestus’s torso, pushing off even as he fired again-

 

The bang of the shotgun matched only by the sickening crunch as the bone ribbing beneath it caved under the round, shards of bone and crystal flying free as the creature reared back, and Izuku leapt up and twisted- feet to the sky-

 

“NEJIRE”

 

“GOT IT!”

 

He reached the apex of his twist- shotgun braced across his chest as he finished his twist, and braced as the wash of kinetic energy reached him.

 

Hanging there, perfectly in line between his enemy and his ally, the blow of Nejire’s spiral blast hit dead center against the locked together heels of his boots.

 

Blue and yellow streams of light danced around him- Nejire’s energy dissipating as he took its kinetic force, as it built and charged his very body- as he let it wash over and off him.

 

For a moment- he kept his legs braced and locked, his muscles straining- as he focused on keeping the plane of his body immutable-

 

As he took the blast and let the last of his upward momentum dissipate against the blast- be overwhelmed with a new direction, a new vector.

 

Down.

 

With a sound like lightning- Revenant became the arrow for Nejire’s bow-

 

Kinetic energy became inertia- became movement . 

 

A normally graceful arc becomes a straight line drive- sending him slamming down after the staggered Nomu like a bolt from heaven, his waist twisting just enough to start a flip giving a slight notation before he steadied out- sending him crashing down metal-soled boots first, gold and blue streaming off his armor like glitter and waves under the sunshine-

 

His goal wasn’t Cestus itself, no.

 

Because with all his force, the kinetic load of Nejire’s blast behind him, Revenant was merely the hammer.

 

His goal was Blight-killer.

 

Metal soles slammed down, scraping the leather grip- before catching on the metal of the crossguard- and driving the sword deeper, before the torque set in.

 

With a sickening crunch , the blade ripped through cracked bone and crystal- the force high enough that a normal blade would have snapped- but not Muramasa’s work. Not nearly. the blade flexed only slightly- letting the force be concentrated and focused-

 

Revenant let out a wordless roar, of frustration, of hate - and the bubble like torso of the Nomu ruptured.

 

With a ringing sound like a tuning fork- Blight-killer punched out the back of Cestus- the blade tumbling through a massive tear as it cleaved through the upper half of the ‘cockpit’ of Cestus- caked in blood and with a fragment of bone still breathing it’s blade as it skated across the ground.

 

Revenant landed a second later, leg covered in a similar amount of viscera, having pushed off from the remains of the torso with a roll, landing before the creature as it slammed into the ground.

 

For a moment- he considered if that was enough- but no.

 

The clawed feet dug into the concrete. And with a heave- the torso came back up- and the damage was shown.

 

What had been a solid dome-like structure, bracketed by the shoulders and arms of the Nomu- was split open- torn muscle and shattered bone marking a rip that stretched up from where someone’s belly button would be- through the bone shards of what had once been a ribcage- and upwards- through the shoulder and out the back. The right arm hung limp, its crystal blade cracked and shattered. Above, the shoulder was ripped in half, only hanging by threads of muscle- the ‘collarbone’ it had been anchored to shattered and fragmented where Blight Killer had punched through the mass 

 

But none of the damage drew Izuku’s eye.

 

No, he was looking past it.

 

Because inside, past the rings of a shattered rib cage, where the massive heart of a creature Cestus’s size should have been, it showed the true Nomu.

 

A normal, human sized, shaped torso stretched up the spine of the creature, it’s own smaller ribcage and emancipated torso flayed and showing familiar signs of surgical work- the lower waist buried in layers of flesh- the arms stretching up into the muscles of the torso and back, showing. 

 

More disturbingly? It was all skinned.  

 

Flayed muscle and exposed chunks of bone- shot through with red crystalline shards, flexed and shifted-  what were once limbs unfurled into strands of red muscle and gleaming crystal and bone- an inhumane face hidden under a cybernetic plate that only showed a human jaw, a gleaming red lens looking out through the damage.

 

Everything else- the legs and arms and mass that surrounded it, was nothing but a puppet.

 

As Izuku watched, inside the figure’s chest an oversized heart pumped once- sending a fresh wave of blood dripping from the ragged edges of the ripped open cockpit, before it began to crystalize and seal the wounds.

 

Revenant rose, readying himself for the finishing blow, before the mouth shifted, the red eye locked on his form.

 

And Cestus spoke.

 

“Niiinnee.”

 

Izuku flinched at the designation. Something in his very soul clenched at the hate that word brought to his mind.

 

Snarling, he brought his shotgun up, everything in his body- his instincts and mind screaming to KILL the abomination- before his other senses screamed at him to dodge.

 

Spines of blood red rushed from the ground around him, the transition from blood to crystal suddenly apparent, only his innate sense of ‘Danger’ letting him parse the glint of red that had rushed his way before it could impale him.

 

And as he rolled clear, turning back, he didn’t get a chance to raise his gun again.

 

Because with a rush of heat and light- a wave of fire rushed past him, the heat intense enough that he had to duck low, arm raised to block the glare, even as he glanced back at the source..

 

There, standing tall, his left arm hanging loose, dislocated, and his right raised and held in Cestus’s direction, his eyes glowing with a tinge of mania, was Endeavor.

---

Then

Another dead typhon. More blood. A pair of traps.

 

By the time Izuku was done following the signs of the Cook, he was staring at the open door to one of the escape pods.

 

Inside, the heavy set imposter was slumped in one of the chairs, one hand on his gut.

 

Pressed where Izuku had shot him almost an hour earlier, during the brawl. 

 

He coughed, as he saw the teen, blood specking his lips.

 

“Midoriya Izuku. This pod will work- but I do not know how to launch it.”

 

Izuku stepped in, taking a glance at the screen of controls at the back of the pod, taking a slow step forwards- only for the cook to grin, hand dropping from his gut to reveal a primed recycler charge.

 

“We are over now.”

 

As space began to warp- Izuku threw himself to the door, ignoring the way every joint on his body suddenly cracked with torque as the very space dragged at him, even as he tried to pull his body free-

 

And with a sound that popped his ears even through the suit- the pull stopped, the clattering sound of resource cubes dancing across the bottom of the pod the only sound.

 

As Izuku dropped to the ground, he breathed hard, before slowly pushing up.

 

The side of the escape pod was ripped apart, pulled and twisted into a crumpled mass, seats torn apart and the mass of the cook reduced to a pair of tan cubes of what Izuku recognized as organic material.

 

There was barely even any blood left in the pod. All of it consumed by the micro-singularity.

 

The cook was dead.

 

As Izuku pushed himself up, he couldn’t help but look at the cracked and damaged screen at the back of the pod.

 

Why didn’t it take off?

 

---

Now

The world came into focus, Todoroki Enji blinking- his entire body feeling sore, his skin feeling tight and warm, his brain… fuzzy.

 

There was a monster- no. a killer.

 

STAIN.

 

Shoving off the cot, he ignored the shouts as a medic leaned back from where she had been checking his vital- he winced over the pain, one arm not responding, his blood pulsing in his head as he shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the hands of the medic- everything sounded like it was underwater, his balance was shot- concussion? Combined with quirk overuse, right.

 

He kicked the door to the ambulance open, staggering out, eyes tracking over the battlefield.

 

Most of it was covered in gray material, something that glowed and refracted almost like glass, or possibly crystal- and the fighting was that direction.

 

He saw Ryukyu clearing rubble to one side- ahead of the rest of the ambulances. Part of the buildings must have collapsed into a street.

 

A gleaming splash of gold and blue dragged his attention to the field-

 

Someone was flying above the fight- firing down.

 

The target.

 

He took off at the field, feeling his fire flicker and reignite as he rushed past the first masses, they were big and simply designed enough that he could navigate around them easily- and then he reached the edge of a thicker denser area- his flames lashing out- cracking and shattering crystals as their temperature soared and their structure became unstable. 

 

A gunshot rang out- and another flare of gold and blue energy-

 

And then a screech of pain.

 

‘Another monster.’

 

He was dizzy, his hearing was muffled, and his skin hurt-

 

But Endeavor was a top hero for a damn reason- and as he stepped around a last corner- seeing the monster ahead, a bulbous head cracked open to reveal an interior form- Endeavor raised his arm and unleashed hell.

 

Flames, deep red and gold in color, rushed towards the monster, washing over it and turning skin and bone black, crystal fracturing in the wake of the sudden heat.

 

The haze of his thoughts was clearing up- the familiar strain of his quirk pulling him from what he quickly realized was the haze of a concussion.

 

Tensing, he saw the monstrous form stagger towards him, one arm raised as the flames rushed past it’s figure, carbonized flesh cracking with each step as it advanced towards hi,

 

Taking a breath, he deepened his stance and pushed harder- redoubling the intensity of his flames, the gold flickering as it took on pale yellow and even faint blue tones.

 

“GIVVVEEE IN VILLIAANNN!!!”

 

As the flames rushed forwards- the silhouette staggered and began to slide back- the sheer force of the flames carrying its own physical weight as they swirled forward-

 

For a moment, Endeavour was sure he was winning- no, that he had won.

 

Before a single shard of crystal grew from the center mass, pushing out faster than any other- a spear of red that cracked and flaked in the heat- but still kept shoving forwards.

 

Endeavor only saw it for a second- a ripple punching through the flame- before it ripped through his side, sending him to his knees in pain- the flames faltering, Cestus charging through with the crack and rip of charred flesh pulling free of itself.

 

Todoroki Enji only barely had the time to renew his blast- before he was charged and tackled to the ground- thrown onto his back by a clawed backhand, before one charred and half melted claw clamped down on his chest-

 

Out of the flames Cestus looked ruined- his entire right side had been exposed to the worst of the flames- bone and flesh turned to charcoal where the heat had caught and held. The left side has not fared much better- only the more intact dome of flesh and bone blunting the worst of the heat- assisted by a half melted claw of crystal that had been held up in the path of the flames.

 

The internal form wasn’t looking much better- the threads of muscle to the right side charred and flayed, the edge of its helmet scorched and blackened.

 

“ HEeeerrooo.” Its voice was a death rattle, the ruined internals of the creature barely intact enough to make the noises.

 

Lifting its charred black arm up- red began to seep through, flakes of burned flesh dropping from the limb to reveal a wide and crude blade of crystal that was pushing through the flesh, the claws cracked and giving way as a cleaver of crystal pushed through the damaged wrist, raised up high-

 

“ HEeeerRRROssss Muusstttt DIE!!!”

 

The blade swung down- and scarlet scattered through the air.

---

Then

The panels were easy to pull off- his wrench-axe still worked as a wrench afterall.

 

The computer was ripped from the pod wall- the fuel canisters below cracked open, the entire system stripped and spread across the catwalks of the room.

 

‘Fuck.’ 

 

Nothing. Fucking nothing .

 

Life support? Empty bottles in a defective piping system. Navigation? Jets with no fuel- no servos. The entire shell was the bare fucking minimum to sell the idea of an ‘escape pod’- without actually working .

 

For fucks sake- it may as well have been made of papermache for all its use in an actual emergency.

 

And it wasn’t just this one.

 

All six pods- including the damaged one from the cook, were fabrications.

 

Fakes.

 

Growling, Izuku turned and skipped a chunk of pipe across the room, the metal sparking off the wall as it went careening into the sub flooring.

 

“The fucking Yu’s .” It had to be them. The history books and his own scattered memories of the stations history noted that Alex had been in charge of Talos 1’s construction- or more precisely its replacement of an abandoned Soviet and US run station known as the Kletka only a few years before the ‘now’ point- that had to be when the changes were made.

 

Because he had an idea by now of how the Yu family thought. ‘if you were going to make a facility to contain and experiment on a dangerous as fuck invasive species and mildly psychotic prisoners- then why give them a way off.’ seemed perfectly in line with what they would do.

 

There were shuttles- yeah, but if they were in an isolated chamber or had some beefed up security required for access- he would be fucking surprised.

 

Pausing on that, there likely had to be some way off for Alex and Morgan- a private exit- but anything public was going to be dead in the water.

 

Including all the escape pods.

 

Fuck, Izuku couldn’t even use them for spare parts- that was how fucking useless the design were. 

 

Wiping grease from his hands, he slid his tool pouch back into his suit and pushed up from the catwalk.

 

“Right.” He stretched, rolling his arm to try and loosen up a bruise, as he looked back. “Deep storage- and then we look into the self destruct for this fucking deathtrap.”

---

Now

The crystal blade of Cestus had swung hard and bit deep, or tried to. 

 

Instead, it had met a lockstep of red on red.

 

Standing, braced above the number two hero- the number three had taken the blow- two long feathers, edges ragged with trails of scarlet down floating in the air from where the cleaver had shredded them with it’s force, were crossed to catch the cleaver, the blade pressing the flying hero down until his arms were trembling. Even now the Number 3 hero’s wings were outstretched behind him, swirling with dust- proof at just how fast he had been traveling for the last minute save.

 

“ Heh , Sorry I'm late. Traffic is a nightmare.”

 

Cestus let out another death rattling screech- Irritated at once again being denied-

 

The last sound it would ever make.

 

From the dust cloud- sliding under the arc of the hero’s wings, quiet and lethal- a shadow moved, gleaming green lens piercing the dust as it locked onto its target, sliding forwards on one knee as the shotgun aimed up- before pushing off into a step, tucked inside the radius of the fight.

 

Locked in place- distracted, and with its armored shell compromised- nothing could stop the barrel of the shotgun as it slid through the ragged wound and pressed to the lens of Cestus’s mechanical mask.

 

There was no time to react- not to this one.

 

The trigger pulled, and the last 12 gauge magnum slug, a full ounce of steel, punched from the barrel with a crack like an angry god’s whip, traveling half again the speed of sound- straight into the gleaming red lens- and then through the skull. Shredding matter until it hit the spine behind everything- and then punching through and out-

 

Behind the Nomu- another spire of crystal shattered- gray shards splattered with gleaming red and toxic black blood.

 

For a long second through Cestus’s head, Revenant could see the sky.

 

As the sound echoed through the plaza, Cestus’s body finally slumped in place, it’s heart giving one last spluttering pump- before it too fell silent.

 

With a grunt Hawks managed to shove the blade to the side, letting it shatter on the pavement, away from anyone’s limbs. The action unbalanced the corpse, sending it tilting back and to the left, torso slamming to the ground with a crunch of burned flesh and fragile bone. 

 

The avian hero gave a huff, and looked around. “Well, I wasn't expecting that.”

 

The hero gave a yelp and jumped clear as, freed from under Cestus’s  leg, Endeavor pushed up to his feet, one arm still dislocated. Blue eyes glanced up at Hawks from under unlit eyebrows. “...Thank you.”

 

After a beat, Hawks crossed his arms behind his head, smiling wide, “No problem! Always happy to help!”

 

The sound of metal scraping off bone turned their attention to Revenant, who had stepped away to retrieve his sword, and was now cutting the Nomu’s insides apart, the heart already cut wide, blood pooling in the cavity of the monster.

 

Even as they watched, Revenant shook guts and blood from the weapon before turning to look their way.

 

“...Double tap. They don’t like staying down.”

 

For a long moment both top heroes gazed at the destruction surrounding them, Nejirie slowly descending from above, before the two pros nodded. Endeavour turned to march towards the last pair of ambulances- one of which he had just left.

 

Hawks however gave Revenant one last smile. “Yo, good work kid. Bloody, but it worked. Stay safe, yeah?”

 

With a swirl of feathers and ash, he took off, flying to head back out and assist with search and rescue.

 

Nejire finally landed, looking around with bright eyes and curiosity.

 

“Wow! He didn’t want to go down! Revenant! Are you okay?”

 

The teen glanced her way, mask finally unfolding to reveal his exhausted emerald gaze- face pale and sweat trickling down his brow, even as he ran a cloth along the blade of his sword.

 

“I’ll live.” Giving one last kick to the Hunter-Nomu, Izuku began his own march for the ambulances, his blade once more sliding home into its sheath, Nejire trailing in his wake, keeping a running commentary on the fight- the various abilities- how cool Hawk’s arrival was-

 

Izuku kept his replies minor, mostly hums and one word answers- but didn’t ask her to stop.

 

It was nice, Izuku thought, to have something other than the weight of exhaustion creeping along his bones to focus on.

 

It was only a few minutes before they reached the last ambulances- as well as a familiar police van that came up and stopped.

 

“Izuku!” Jirou was sprinting from the doorway even as the van came to a stop, only slowing as she got close- “You made it, thank god!”

 

Izuku glanced her way, face relaxing slightly, something that could possibly be called a smile ghosting his lips. “Kyouka.”

 

As she got closer, she slowed- his heartbeat was slowing down, but it felt labored- exhausted, her eyes traced up across his face- taking in the pale skin and the sweat soaked bangs of his hair- half undone from his usual braid and with scorched segments at the ends.

 

Still, she stepped forwards and wrapped him in a hug, her cheek to his scratched-up armor.

“You lived. Thank god.”

She heard the faint stutter of his heart- something one part embarrassment and one part touched- before his gloved hand patted her on the back.

 

“Jirou. I’m about to pass out. Make sure the medics contact U.A. before drugging me with anything, please.” 

 

As the punk leaned back, mouth opening with a question, he was already slumping forward- only Nejire’s quick thinking as she ducked under his arm kept him from almost crushing Jirou.

 

But that was fine.

 

Cestus was dead, Revenant was done- and Izuku was fucking tired . Over an hour of high intensity combat was pushing the limit, with his overrun metabolic state and the amount of fuel he needed to stay fighting at that level- and heal the minor injuries he had already incurred.

 

But now, knowing he would be safe under Jirou’s watch- he let himself fade into oblivion once more.

 

He trusted her.

---

Then

“Director Level override. Lockdown engaged.”

 

Izuku slowed and turned, looking at the massive doors to the data vault that he had just opened.

 

That was now sealed behind him.

And then he got the call. Staring at his transcribe for a second at Alex’s ID, he sighed and accepted the call.

 

“ Sorry Midoriya, but I have to lock you in. I don’t know when or where you learned about the arming key, but it’s a mistake.”

 

“This entire fucking station’s the mistake, Alex.”

 

“Midoriya… it’s too late to stick our heads in the sand. We’re committed now.”

 

“Oh fuck off. You are an obstinate fucking bastard, Yu. And it’s fucking killing people.”

 

For a moment, a pause- as if he was actually listening to him. 

 

“ You’ll be safe in Deep Storage. When it’s time, we’ll meet in my office. I hope you believe me, I really am on your side.”

 

“Then fucking-” the call ended before Izuku could respond. “-right. Asshole.”

 

Izuku glanced around. The doorway opened into a small office, a half dozen desks lining the main walkway, the doorway ahead slammed open and stuck- the unfolding slats bent out of shape.

 

And through it, Izuku caught sight of a phantom for a moment, wandering past the distant wall.

 

Ducking to the side and crouching behind the first desk, Izuku glanced out- before reaching up and pulling his Psychoscope back into position, the targeting reticule locking on and confirming what he was looking at.

 

Another fucking Technopath.

 

The last one he faced nearly stopped his damn heart- but that was fine.

 

Reaching behind his back, he grabbed one of the handles and pulled his newest weapon up from it’s position, feeling it’s straps bite into his back as he leveled the heavy chuck of scientific weaponry- a long rectangular chassis with a series of super capacitors hooked up to what his memoirs said was a quasiparticle accelerator that would transmit enough volatile energy to start a cascade effect on organic- or typhon- materials..

 

To keep it in layman’s terms- It was a beam that caused things to explode.

 

And what did you know- he had just the right targets.

 

“I’m going to get out of here- Alex. And then I'm going to rip you a new one.”

 

With a hum- the Q-beam began to charge- nearly vibrating with repressed power, ad Izuku aimed down the hallway.

 

With a shout- he got the Typhons attention.

“COME OUT AND PLAY FUCKERS.”

---

Now

Sugoh stared at the screen, the last few seconds the transmissions from Cestus failed repeating-

 

The red wings of Hawks- slightly faded due to the low quality of the footage- 

 

The blur of color below the red shifted as green and steel slid out.

 

The dark barrel of the gun slid flush on the lens.

 

And then the failed connection.

 

Other screens were showing other images. A silenced news stream, the feeds from several other Nomu’s neural-uplinks, most of them frozen or repeating scenes from their combat.

 

In front of them, pacing, Shigaraki prowled.

 

There was no other way to name it, the slow measured steps, two fingers scratching his jaw slowly, his eyes focusing on the screens.

 

Sugoh could only hope Cestus had met his bosses’ expectations-

 

Even as he began to strip data from the encounters on his own terminal- an analytical program going over and modeling each hero who had fought his creation- or the Doctor’s lesser Nomu.

 

The vast majority of those details were being sent to a specific ‘character’ file.

 

‘Subject 9 made quite a show of this… His anger, his frustration. They change his fighting style. Improved speed and strength, increased aggression, expanded weapon play and tool use. But still, I can see… something. Something unused. A trace of hesitation to reach for something .’

 

Sugoh’s inner thoughts paused as Shigaraki turned to face him and the Doctor.

 

“Over Seven Nomu, Stain the Hero-Killer, Dabi, and Cestus.” The villain paused, reaching from his neck up to adjust his eyepatch gently, only three fingers touching the black material. “A single teenager killed or disabled over two-thirds of our operative force.”

 

“The varied Nomu were-”

 

Shigaraki raised his hand, a clear sign for quiet. “Currently known fatalities are a mere eight sidekicks, three Heroes of middling renown, and a vast swath of NPCs. Not counting the variety of non-lethal casualties- I’m expecting twice that in wounded or forced retirement heroes. Of the top ten, none died. Though several will be injured for the next short while. Doctor… I am not impressed with these results.” He paused. “For the efforts and cost of a dozen Nomu and the resources to enrage and embolden them, I consider this a wake up call. The High-Ends will be needed sooner than later, Doctor. Or you must take more time with your current generations. Master your lesser projects or devote yourself to your final ones.”

Turning back, his eye once more directed at the screen showing Cestus’ final moments, Shigaraki hummed. “Cestus, however, was quite the disappointment. Slow. Ungainly. Defensive. Unable to finish the fights. By all metrics I should consider you a failure and cut you loose, Sugoh Akihiko.”

 

The programmer tensed, his hands flat on his console, the itch of his quirk coming to just below the surface.

 

“However, your program was given quite the gleaming review… By Midoriya’s performance.”

For a long moment, there was a quiet tension, before Shigaraki turned to face Sugoh once more.

 

“Your past equipment will be a priority for retrieval. I expect a detailed account of what- exactly- you require. Itemized. However- If the next of your experiments fails again in such a manner… well.” The villain reached out, a snake-like grip catching the lapel of Sugohs’s lab coat- the white cloth fraying and disintegrating at the touch. “I suggest they don’t. You have a month to finish your current refinements and prepare. Do not waste my time. ”

 

Fighting for every inch of composure, Sugoh gave a single quiet nod.

 

The red eye gleamed. “Good.” Dusting the fabric slightly, dust drifting down across the keyboard and leaving the cloth lapel ruined, Shigaraki turned and began pacing for the exit. “Now, I must attend to our… new allies.”

 

As he stopped in the doorway, he looked back.

 

“Oh, and Sugoh- continue compiling the Shinobi and Hunter programs I requested. I do believe you’ll have a volunteer for the first soon enough.”

 

And with that, his steps faded into the tunnels of the complex, leaving the doctors to their data collection.

On the screen- Midoriya Izuku’s green eyes stared out from beneath a masked face. A clear threat in every line of his body. A challenge- one that Shigaraki intended to match.

Notes:

Whoo, sorry for the wait on this everyone. Work has been non-stop, and Seasonal Depression hasn't helped motivation or free time at all. But, with this, the main fight of Hosu has ended. Now we've got some falling action, a bit more personal interactions and fallout of the event- and the continuation of PREY in the background. With the Cook dead- we're more than halfway through.

Thank you all for keeping up with the rereads, the comments, and the Kudos. with luck the next update won't be 2 months late....

If you're here on the day of the update (5/27-ish)- I'm gonna be over on twitch (@RogueDruidWords) celebrating turning 27, which is a thing. Feel free to drop by and watch me play some games and chat with the discord crew.

Chapter 61: Global Cooldowns

Summary:

The Aftermath of Hosu lingers- injured and dead must be accounted. Injuries seen to. Exhaustion recovered from.

In times of crisis, the greatest offer aid freely.

Notes:

Uhh... Hey!

Been a minute.

I blame a shitty work situation, ADHD, and just... massive amounts of depression.

With luck- a shorter wait is coming. See you at 62!

Now: The Beasts Forest

The rustle of the forest was calm, the birdsong and chatter of smaller prey vibrant and unbothered - signs that no obvious predation was going on.

 

And even more than that - the trio of smaller birds had joined Koda and Kuro for his current assignment - flitting from branch-to-branch along Koda’s trail. Kuro drifted higher above them in the warm afternoon updrafts, occasionally coming in to land and report how far they were to Koda.

 

The two had spent most of the afternoon traveling with a steady pace — Koda falling into that familiar distance-eating stride any professional woodsman could maintain for hours — as they headed into the depths of the Beasts Forest. They were, in fact, hunting down a sleuth of bears. A very special sleuth — they were descendants of one of the original quirked animals in Japan — an exceptionally large and durable Asiatic Black Bear with what was recorded to be a strengthening and gigantism quirk.

 

According to Mandalay and Tiger — who were acting as Mission Control and checked in hourly over his earpiece, one of the sows, a female bear, had been pregnant not too long ago — but they hadn’t seen the new cubs yet. They needed to check for deformities and new quirk expressions, or to register and mark if any of  the sleuth’s new members were quirkless. The sleuth was also in one of the more distant and closed off corners of the forest —their dens were located in a series of caves in a closed end valley between two of the western hills — far enough from the road and nearby paths that the bears could live in safety from poachers.

 

Around his neck, Seras rose from her slumber, tongue licking out as she scented the air.

 

‘-I smell the beasts…. large. Furry.-’

 

At her murmured confirmation they were in the right place, Koda found a break in the foliage and gave a soft whistle.

 

In moments the dark shape of Kuro swooped low and flapped his wings, pulling out of a dive to land on the leather bracer Koda held high for him.

“-Caves ahead. River to the north. Bears near cave.-”

Nodding, Kouji altered his course at the birds direction, letting him perch from his leather glove to the sewn in leather pad on his hero suit's shoulder. One of the many modifications he had implemented in the weeks since the first real use of the jumpsuit. Starting with the basic jumpsuit, with a rough mouth decal, had been a good choice. But since he had started recruiting permanent allies like Kuro and Seras, he and Izuku had brainstormed small modifications, getting Momo’s help for changing things.

 

Izuku had also introduced Hatsume, though Kouji was thankfully not the one who had to regularly deal with the bombastic pink-haired inventor. Izuku was more than willing to act as the go between and deal with her frenetic energy… and the explosions.

 

Now, he had a simple harness that went from his falconry shoulder piece down across his chest to where a thick utility belt hung across his hips. It was loaded with pouches of high energy snacks and various types of animal treats, from various seeds to strips of unseasoned jerky, and even a small jar of sugar water for insects. On one hip was a standard medical response kit, marked with a bright green cross for easy identification, while a metal canteen sat on the other. A bundle of paracord hung from one strap, while a small crowbar, a utility knife, and a small folding saw were sheathed at his back in a leather bundle.

 

Izuku had been the one to suggest those, the saw to clear away foliage and break down any logs or debris, a knife for general use, and a crowbar to get through doors or leverage rubble off of someone.

 

None of them were weapons, and something about that made Kouji… satisfied.

 

He wasn’t out here to hurt people afterall.

 

With a few last steps, he pushed out of the treeline and onto the edge of the riverbank. A loose collection of bamboo stalks grew down near the waterline, but from here he had a good view of nearly the entire riverbed leading up towards the waterfall and caves he was looking for.

 

Even at a distance, he could make out big moving shapes. He began to head that way, humming gently as he stretched his quirk through the new technique.

 

-Curiosity, Empathy, Peace-

 

Koda began to whistle, a simple tune, as he paced closer to the caves, keeping the psionic signal on repeat- extruding an air of calm.

 

As he reached the river bank, a gruff sniffling sound started, and Koda came to a stop. From where it had been napping among a patch of briars, the thorns too weak to push through the gleaming bronze-colored skin and fur, a bear shook itself awake.

 

It gave a deep chuff, fur puffing up as it rose slightly. “-Intruder, leave!-”

 

Raising his hands up slightly, Kouji pitched his voice soft and even.

“I mean to do no harm. I’m from the protectors of this land, here to make sure you and your kin are safe and comfortable.” He let the message, and the context of it, linger in his voice, watching as the bear reared back slightly in surprise before lowering and regarding him with a more interested look. For a long moment Kouji just stood there letting the bear assess him.

 

Finally the bear gave a deep chuff, pulling out of the thicket and closer to the teen, the scraping of thorns over bronze fur the only sign of discomfort.

 

“-Young Forest Keeper… you will follow.-” Turning, it began to lumber towards the caves where the other bears had been seen.

 

Relaxing slightly, Kouji rolled his shoulders and set off- keeping pace with the bear.

 

“I was told to ask about a sow- And if her cubs were born safe and healthy.”

The bear swayed his head and gave another chuff- this one more conflicted. “-Most cubs are healthy. Except the runt.-”

 

Kouji didn’t like the sound of that.

 

“The runt?”

 

The bear bristled , his fur shaking and puffing up.

“ -You shall see.- ”

 

The rest of the journey was in silence, only the plodding steps of the bear and the scrape of metal over bark as it scraped past bushes marking the large animals passage. Kouji kept a respectful distance, moving in the bear's wake. The bronze toned fur cleared away not just the ground cover, but scraping against trees and rocks. The more he looked around, the more signs of the bear's mutations Kouji could see. Trees and bushes nearly cleared of low hanging branches and leaves, bark scraped clear by the bears rubbing against them. 

 

Passing out of the small grove, Kouji looked to see the rest of the sleuth were ranging around the lower hills of the mountain, many of them piled up over the boulders that dotted the hillside, the dark entrances to the cave network further up the hill set into the cliff face. Even from a distance, their coloration showed how the centuries of quirk evolution had changed them. Most of the bears he could make out had brassy and copper tones to their fur, the dull gleam of matte metal catching the light, but they had fairly standard physiology for the Asiatic Black Bear. The interesting ones were the larger, clearly more mutated bears. These generally all had shades of iron or steel, some even showing faint signs of rusty discoloration- and nearly double the height and shoulder width of their cousins.

 

He had been briefed on the sleuth- and the common understanding was that to handle fur made of denser metals, the ‘ironfur’ bears naturally grew larger and stronger, but were also slower.

 

As he was led to the entrance of a cave, the bear he was following gave a gruff snort “-Stay.-”

 

Nodding, Kouji took a knee, pulling his canteen for a sip of water as he waited.

 

For several minutes, he was left alone. The rest of the sleuth wandering around gave him some glances, but stayed away.  Soon, he heard the scrape of metal on stone, and looked to the cave mouth.

 

Led by the bronze bear, a small pile of cubs- three of them- tumbled and crawled over each other- metallic tones of bright silver and copper on display. They tumbled and tossed, before moving to inspect, sniffing around Koda- their psionic voices jumbled and still unformed- a sign of just how young they truly were. Less concrete intent or direction, and more fragmented wants and needs swirling in a jumble.

 

“-These are the healthy ones.-”  The bronze bear turned and the mother of the cubs began to move into the light. “- She has the runt…-”

The mother was by far amongst the largest of the bears, heavy gunmetal steel fur and claws, a shoulder that put her nearly a head taller than him even. And hanging from her mouth, scuffed almost like a cat, was a black cub- his fur not even marked with the glint of metal, and smaller than his siblings by almost half.

 

But even with the missing metal, as Koda’s mind reached out- he could feel it.

The Runt had a psionic signature…

---

Then:

Izuku gave a short exhale, shaking out his hand as he let the array of the Q-beam drop, its weight hanging from the shoulder strap. Black and glowing green matter was dripping from the corpse of what had been another Telepath- but without any minions to use as cover, it had taken only a moment to handle.

 

With a careful twist, Izuku reached in and disengaged the drained power cells, the rack of orb-like canisters sliding free with a hiss, before he slid his last chunk of them home. Twisting a valve to make sure it was nice and secure, he flipped it around and hung it from his back once more.

 

Stepping through the gore splattered hallway, he glanced down and kicked a chunk of glowing flesh aside.

 

There had been a surprisingly large group of Typhons down in his way - possibly the same group that had forced Danielle to blow her airlock and take to the outside of the station…

 

Izuku hoped she was making it to the lobby okay.

 

He would head there next, if nothing went wrong. But for now, Izuku had to find that data-vault…

---

Now: Esuha City

The thud of weapons rang out- Momo twirling her staff back around her even as a massive crab claw snapped closed inches from her. The spar had been going for nearly half an hour, Tamaki walking her through her paces as Fatgum watched from the sidelines - shouting encouragement even as he munched on a large bowl of what looked like popcorn - A few hours earlier they had gone on a short patrol- and now the two Interns were sparring to close out the morning.

 

As they both disengaged, Momo skipping back to avoid a followup slash, even as she swung the capped end of her staff back up and across one handed- a pop of light and energy filling her empty hand as she swung it back up- sparkling powders reacting between her fingers- Glitter that would represent a more dangerous attack in a real fight-

 

A clamshell slapped it away, air and pressure sending it to the side even as the crab claw snapped forwards- catching Momo’s staff as she swung it back to block.

 

One handed and off balance- she couldn’t stop it as the claw snapped shut and crumpled her staff in the center.

 

Sliding a step back and yanking, she ripped at the staff and snapped one half free, twisting as she ducked under the sweep of the clam- before swiping to deflect the next snap of the claw- wincing as she lost the grip on the shortened staff.

 

And before she could reach for a new weapon, come up with a new configuration, a leg snapped forwards- turning to a chickens talon mid-kick to stomp on her foot and clamping down, talons digging into the synthetic rubber flooring.

 

Pinned, off balance, and unable to react- she was shoved to the ground and flinched as the crab-claw swung up and hovered around the neck.

 

“Pause. That’s 7 to 2. Favor, Suneater.” Fatgum gave a clap as he stepped forwards- a pair of bottles and towels under one arm.

 

Tamaki stepped back. “Good try with the glitter- what would that have been?”

 

“Oh!” Momo blushed slightly even as she was pulled to her feet- the clamshell and “That would have been, um, salt dust and nonivamide, or artificial capsaicin powder.” 

 

Even Fatgum can’t hold back a wince at that. “Effective!” he clapped his hands. “Now, let’s review!” He handed the towels and bottles out, and stepped back.

 

As she took the bottle, sipping it gratefully, tasting the now familiar formula of what Fatgum and Shirou had called ‘Total Replenisher’. It was apparently a high nutrient mix that tasted vaguely of peach and had the umami flavor of mushrooms. Odd at first taste, but not horrible. The towel was nice as well, helping her wipe the sweat from where her suit- which she had always thought was lightweight, was now too tight on her, feeling hot and unable to breath. 

 

Only a week on her new diet- and she was seeing immense gains in both muscles and strength- as well as nearly two centimeters more in height. Fatgum and Shirou had expected it- For years now Momo’s old dieting hadn’t accounted for increased calcium and increased metal and vitamin intake. Even now, Momo couldn’t help the heat of shame that boiled in her chest whenever she considered just how far behind she was apparently. 

 

Of course, the diet was only part of her time with Fatgums agency. She had taken three low level patrols following Fatgum- though Tamaki had joined for her first- that took her through the routine. How they planned patrols, advice on crowds and what to be aware of- what some standard calls and alerts meant.

 

As she drained the bottle, she glanced up and saw Sun Eater chewing on a piece of preserved meat- her experience sparring narrowing it down to chicken or turkey jerky- to replenish his leg transformation most likely.

“Suneater! Excellent efficiency! You’ve managed to keep your transformations minimal and cover your weaknesses! We’ve spoken before about your tactics here, and you’ve made great strides!” The hooded teen hunched slightly, flushed from the praise, even as he tugged his hood a touch lower. 

 

“Thank you, Sensei.”

 

With a clap, the hero turned to Momo, and she tensed slightly. “Yaoyorozu-kun! I think you would benefit much from a similar exercise! Look around the room with me, please!”

 

Fatgum stepped up and began to point around the room. “I count three training blades, two broken staves, and a litany of smaller items! You made them quickly and efficiently, I must say! But, this seems much like a touch of waste to me, Yaoyorozu-kun!”

 

Momo flushed. “I- I am sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

A large hand gently clapped her shoulder, Fatgum lowering to his knee, his eyes now closer to her in height, though she still was looking upwards. “None of that! You are an excellent combatant, very smart and quick to react! I can see the training you've done!”

He lifted half of her last weapon, the stave, and peered at the end. “This is hollow, but sturdy! Enough material for a solid hit, but light, yes?” At her nod, he continued. “But this is the second staff you made! And it, like the first, broke!”

 

Momo nodded, grimacing as she remembered how the first had been twisted into scrap blocking a kick from a horse’s leg when she thought she had the chance to take Amaki from behind. “Yes-”

“And your blades! They snapped or broke as well! A testament to Amaki-kuns strength! But also a sign you made them quickly!” The crab claw had snapped one, and another had been twisted up in a tentacle and ripped from her grasp- “Why do you not have a masterwork at your side!”

 

Momo broke from her thoughts- “I.. I’m sorry? A masterwork?”

 

Fatgum nodded, rubbing his chin. “Your friend, the green swordsman from the festival! When you fought he used a single monstrous weapon, yes? But it shattered blade after blade! It crushed everything you crafted!” With a wince, Momo remembered it. The meter long slab wreathed in padding that hid a second blade beneath. “Why did it not break?”

 

“It was a fairly solid construction, Sensei. Izuku crafted it-”

 

“No, no! Why did his weapon break your weapon .”

 

A hesitant moment- “Because it was… Better?”

Fatgum laughed. “Yes! It was better! It was heavier, and he was stronger!” a thick finger pointed at her broken staff. “So why was this not better-”

 

Momo was about to explain- to talk about metallurgy, and weight, and strength and shear points- but Fatgum wasn’t finished.

“So, since you can make anything , why isn’t your weapon better, Yaoyorozu-kun?”

 

And Momo… didn’t have an answer.

She had focused so hard on speed and efficiency, to make things with the tightest material cost, to lose nothing that she didn’t have ready to her quirk.

 

But… She had fuel now. She could feel the new stores of fat tucked between muscles and stretching her suit right now .

 

Fatgum continued. “Your friend! He has a sword, yes? A good, strong weapon?”

Momo nodded, her eyes looking down at the broken stave, the other half of the one in Fatgum’s grip- she had seen Izuku’s blade. Had seen the sheer mastery of metalworking- the alloying of dozens of sub-materials, the sheen where she could see carbon nanomarks, the traces of chromium that gave it an iridescent rust-proof shine. And the darkened steel edged in what she was sure was a variant of Vanadium-carbide, so sharp that Izuku had shown the ability to cut without pressing on the edge with more than a feather's touch. And that was before she got into how the core of the blade had what she was almost sure was bronze in its alloy, giving it that off-red golden shine in the fuller.

 

The one that he spoke of was made by a master , someone using the name of a legend - Muramasa. The mythical smith from the Muromachi period who was said to craft Wicked Katana, demonic and bloodthirsty blades.

A sword with a name.

 

The memory of Izuku’s voice rang down her spine. “Blight-Killer.”

Compared to that, what was a flimsy blade of carbon-steel. Or an iron and steel stave?

Holding out her hand, Momo took a breath in and focused.

 

Another whisper came to her. From the sports festival. Advice she hadn’t understood during the waiting for the sports festival to start-

“Nothing you build should ever break without your command.”

 

She took all the thoughts of Blight-Killer, of Izuku’s advice, of her own research into metallurgy- and she focused. Under her skin, her quirk gleamed like a forge and a new tool began to form, the soft pink-gold sparks of her quirk dancing as first a ring shaped pommel of black metal- and then a handle, wrapped in synthetic silk and leather but with not even a hint of a stitch on the grip, slid free. It was straight, but right before the end it began to curve, contours under faux-leather perfectly fitted for her hand. A blade began to push free, before it immediately curved- a narrow blade slowly sliding from her palm- a karambit.

The cost was… not as bad as she expected. 

 

Barely half-again what she would have expected from making a cheap sword- condensed and concentrated down into a knife.

 

She looked at the gleaming edge- ten centimeters of smooth and nearly razor sharp chromium-carbide, the narrow edge widening quickly to a triangular wedge nearly as wide as her thumb, the spine of the blade layered in a softer iron compound, perfectly mated to layers upon layers of high carbon steel in the meat of the blade. 

 

The edge nicked her fingers even as she shifted it to a proper grip, blade held low and out from the base of her hand.

 

Kneeling down she found a chunk of her earlier sword, already twisted- and brought the blade down to try and test the edge-.

With a screech the knife gouged a line through the metal, shearing through it before plunging down , coming to a stop halfway into the floor of the studio.

 

“OH! That’s impressive!” Fatgum’s voice almost made her jump- startling her from her thoughts.

 

“Oh- OH! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to damage-” Fatgum waved her away, looking down and flicking the handle of the knife- seeing it practically hum as it bounced back and forth in its little hole.

 

“This room is designed for damage! It’s good to see. We’ve got everything insured and easy to replace.” Gently he picked the blade from the hole and inspected its edge, scratching a fresh line along the carbon of the other blade with barely a thought. “But this! This is a good weapon .”

 

Momo nodded, her mind still racing- but feeling so… clear. 

 

Fatgum flipped it around, his fingers dexterous for their size. “You should keep this on you. A weapon like this? This is one to carry. And I suggest you think of more. If you only need to make a tool once- you can use it as often as needed.”

 

“Ah, yes sensei!” It was a mere thought to make a synthetic sheath the size and shape of the knife, the back with the same standard clips as her belt pouches. She carefully slid the blade to rest, its edge held from the leather with a metal clip to avoid punching through the material.

She was already considering how to make a better- sturdier- staff when the door to the gym burst open.

“BOSS!” Shirou was frantic, his eyes wide and his normally pristine chef jacket half undone, even as he rushed to button it. “Emergency deployment, it just came over the system. Search and Rescue, Fire Relief, Medical, and Structural.”

 

Fatgum nearly paled, pushing up and gesturing, a suddenly pale Tamaki in his wake, and leaving Momo behind, before Shirou continued.

“It’s Hosu- There’s been a terror attack.”

‘Hosu- no, Izuku! Kyouka!”

She was on their heels in moments.

 

“What’s happened?!”

 

The answer chilled her to the core.

---

Then:

Izuku glanced at the door behind him, then back at the console for the data vault. Finding the key was one thing- reassembling it from what Morgan had stored it as? Converting half a dozen files into a single ‘Print’ file for the fabricators? A pain in the ass that Izuku was relying on January’s IT support for.

 

It turns out ‘Arming Key’ wasn’t a figurative name. No, it was a physical key, one that carried its own, hardwired, security features. The other one was supposed to be in Alex’s possession- and while without it Izuku wasn’t going to be able to blow the station to hell- it did provide its own administrative override for key Talos 2 systems- including the station communications array- but that would require him getting out of Deep Storage.

 

And right now that wasn’t an easy option.

 

Because another Nightmare was at the goddamn door to the Data Vault.

 

The massive form, twisting and shifting, was clawing at the security door- gouging at the metal and shattering the glass. As it kept screaming .

 

But- Izuku did have a plan.

 

Danielle had mentioned that data vaults could be ejected into vacuum in an emergency- right?

 

As the last of the files for the Arming Key finished configuring- Izuku yanked his TranScribe free and secured it to his wrist once more- before going over and checking his suit was space ready- and pausing.

 

‘I haven’t tested the new propulsion system in space… Fuck. I hope this works.’

 

As the Nightmare slammed into the door once more, Izuku navigated the console to the emergency commands, and found the one he wanted.

 

As the triangular panels of his helmet formed up around his head- he slammed on the EJECT command. With an explosive decompression- the entire room was vented into space.

 

And Izuku was thrown into the black once more.

---

Now: Shinjuku

Best Jeanist glanced at his intern, the blond haired teen weaving through the crowd in his wake with a swagger that was… Jeanist perhaps wanted to say cocksure, but no. The teen was… Direct.

 

Yes. Bakugou Katsuki was nothing if not direct.  

 

He had to admit, the teen had been a surprise since he first arrived at the Jeanist Agency Offices just outside of Shinjuku. During the Sports Festival the explosive teen had shown a loud personality- a fighter who was cunning but brutal, loud and proud and with little in the way of social graces. Direct and brutal and willing to damage himself to win and advance. Something he kept an eye out- he prided himself on control and the ability to keep composure, and his lessons had helped many a young hero find their own composure.

 

But the teen who showed up at the door, without the sports uniform, was dressed sleek and professional. A classic combination of white button up and tie, a black vest, matching slacks, and sensible boots, topped with a leather belt and white pocket square-  The entire ensemble fitted and cut for easy motion, and the sleeves rolled up as if to show his willingness to get his hands dirty. Even his luggage- a professional black suitcase- showed class and focus.

 

A sharp contrast to his appearance in the festival- and even more so when he showed up in his orange and black hero uniform for training the next morning. At first take the flamboyant orange- the louder than life mask and motif, the military bearing and accents… Tsunagu was taken aback by how loud it was. 

 

The sheer discordant of the two personalities meant Jeanist wasn’t sure what to make of the teen- the way he could swing from yelling and profanity while fighting to a look of calm focus, his words curt but measured as he asked questions of the secretaries and the other sidekicks of Jeanist Agency was astounding.

 

From Friday to Sunday of the internship, walking him through the paces of paperwork. Going over procedure, safety and protocols, Tsunagu was unsure how to treat the teen. But on Monday, they finally had a confrontation.

 

Jeanist had presented the intern with one of his custom ‘Jeanist Jackets’- knife resistant, with pads and linings that would stop a bullet from punching through- and tuned so that Jeanist himself could take command of the fabric and threads in an instant with his quirk- drawing the subject back or using the material for capturing downed villains. The back was even marked with the Agency’s logo and ‘Intern’, for easy identification and self promotion.

 

And the moment it had hit the table, Katsuki had scowled and decreed he wasn’t going to wear it.

 

Not- at least- as it was. 

 

Jeanist had explained that it was standard- had gone over all of its features, and when he was done, Katsuki still refused.

 

Frustrated… Jeanist had asked why.

And then Bakugou talked .

 

“MY color scheme isn’t for nothing! I use GODDAMN EXPLOSIVES. Anyone who stands next to me, if I'm attacked? If they aren’t aware of it? I could cause a panic. I could hurt someone, SCARE, someone. This? This hides all of that- the sleeves are too long and limit mobility, the color scheme clashes, and all the protection matters for shit if it’s gonna throw off my ability to BREATH. My entire goddamn body sweats explosives- dilluted as fuck compared to my hands- but it’s still COMBUSTABLE. I know for a goddamn fact that your material is absorptive, not hydrophobic standard- which my current tank top is. I wear this for a week? Then it’s gonna explode the first time someone lights a cigarette next to it.”

Jeanist had been… stunned, and somewhat ashamed.

 

Taking a breath, he had passed a drawing pad over. 

 

“Give me a redesign then. Anything you think needs changes. We can do a coating- would wax based sealants work?”

 

Katsuki scoffed. “Yeah, better than oils would, grease burns hot when it hits flashpoint.” 

 

For nearly half an hour the teen had worked away, repositioning to one of the couches and a coffee table while Tsunagu had sat at his desk, finishing paperwork and reading through the reports of his intern. 

 

When the pad had come back, dropped on his desk, he had raised an eyebrow, only for the teen to huff, spin it around, and slide the image towards him.

The same image he saw brought to life now.

 

Black dyed denim hung loose and long, stretching from shoulder to knee, heavy orange emergency colored stitching hemming the edges that caught the light as it moved, and a matted gleam from a wax treatment keeping the material from being ‘true’ black. At the shoulders, thick orange cuffs and pads gave way to his bare bicep and studded bracers and padded gloves- the palms and studs a vibrant red with black detailings.

The grenade shaped gauntlets had been left behind, the teen admitting they needed a redesign before field use, but he was using them to offload excess sweat for now. A bandolier and belt combo held the vest mostly closed, bright orange and with gleaming yellow pouches- and a bright orange and white medical pouch hanging ready at one hip. While black and orange pouches patterned with X’s lined his belt. 

 

The collar of the vest was high cut and black, hiding his neck and the edge of his jaw, but where it was open in the front, with the lapels folded open, the inside was revealed to be just as vibrant orange as the cuffs. And across his back was a massive orange ‘X’ that stretched from shoulder to hip.

Deadcenter in between his shoulders, the traditional ‘Jeanist Intern’ patch, the only ‘jean blue’ spot on his uniform, stretched between the orange, and to make it match it was artistically scorched and frayed to mute the color.

 

Below it, centered on the ‘X’ shape, was the Global Spill Control’s warning sign for explosives. An orange diamond with the english word ‘EXPLOSIVE’ across it, and a symbol of an exploding canister above it, and ‘1’ at the bottom.

 

Without the construction of denim sleeves, Katsuki had full mobility, and the material was loose enough to let his skin breathe and dry his sweat to an inert state. Above his collar, his facemask was matching the lines and angles of his outfit, accenting the ‘X’ shapes and the angles of his collar to make him look almost taller, his armored cargo pants with the metals repainted to a color just a bit darker and tinted red compared to the hazard orange of his jacket.

 

While Best Jeanist doubted he could likely ever pull it off, Katsuki made it look… good. Somewhere between industrial-punk and tactical/military gear.

They paced down the street at the end of the teen’s last major patrol- and Tsunagu could admit that the young hero knew what he was doing when designing his costume. Just from the vibrant colors and his bearing- shoulders squared and arched forwards, boots hitting the sidewalk with a stomp and his entire form marching , not just walking, it carved a path. Even in the most crowded sections of the street- rarely did anyone step within a foot of his form.

 

‘Direct, confident… and focused. I definitely underestimated you at the festival… But I do not regret it.’

 

Of course, his musing was cut short as the sound for a priority alert rang out- through his earpiece… and his phone.

 

Any semblance of a good mood vanished as he tensed, playing the message.

 

“ALL HEROES, Repeat, ALL HEROES: Hosu prefecture has suffered a Terror Attack. Known perpetrators are the LEAGUE OF VILLAINS and THE HERO KILLER STAIN. SEARCH AND RESCUE, FIRE CONTROL, MEDICAL ASSISTANCE, AND STRUCTURAL MANAGEMENT REQUESTED TO REPORT TO HOSU IF AVAILABLE.

ALL POINTS: BE ON ALERT FOR KNOWN BIOWEAPONS: CALL SIGN “NOMU”. CONSIDERED TO BE A-CLASS THREATS. REPORT IMMEDIATELY. IDENTIFYING MARKERS: BLACK, GRAY OR GREEN SKIN, MULTIPLE MUTATION QUIRKS, SUBHUMAN INTELLIGENCES, CYBERNETIC MODIFICATIONS, EXPOSED OR VISIBLE BRAINMASS.

ALL POINTS: BE ALERT FOR QUIRK USE- BLACK MIST: SIGN OF LEAGUE OF VILLAIN TELEPORTER ACTIVITY.

ALL POINTS: UPDATES SHALL BE AVAILABLE ONLINE AT HSPC NETWORK.”

 

As Jeanist let the alerts filter through, he glanced at Bakugou- the teen looking at his own phone- the familiar screen of the HPSC’s app- where a similar notice was displayed.

 

“What do we do?”

Jeanist checked his phone, and turned to begin jogging for his agency “We go be heroes, Katsuki. Follow me; you’re about to get a first hand look at disaster management.”

---

Then:

For a moment, Izuku was tumbling, the rush of decompression ripping him off his feet and sending him careening outwards. With a flare of his boosters, he began to reorient, slowly coming to- not quite a stop, but at least a stable trajectory, looping around the outer edges of the area. Behind him and out into the void, the massive copper plated rings of the station's protective EM field turned slowly, an artificial current that dragged debris and junk into its wake.

 

A flicker of jets and Izuku moved past the still tumbling data vault before pushing apart and glancing around.

 

Last time he had only a short period outside and had hugged the wall most of the time. Now, on a longer orbit, Izuku was looking for what he may have missed- and his eyes locked on a drifting space shuttle circling his way.

 

It was a variant of the old American space shuttle, sleek and white on top, black on the bottom. 

 

And it was wreathed in strands of golden coral.

 

And there, twisting from behind its wing, a sight that made his blood boil- 

 

A Weaver.

---

Now: I-Island

A reinforced heavy bag, hanging from thick chains, hung in the gym while hands wrapped in boxers tape slammed home- part of an exercise routine that was designed to push the user to the limit.

 

The sweat dripping from their temple was the sign it was working.

 

Just under a year, just over ten months, and she had changed so much. Her arms were solid muscle, corded lines sitting under the skin that flexed and rippled with each punch, sending the bag swaying as she drove her knuckles into its surface. Her fingers were calloused, her knuckle wraps tinted red, signs that she had slipped up, that scabs and calloused had ripped despite her best efforts to balance her strikes.

She had never exactly been slim before picking up this workout regime- but now she had never been fitter. From head to toe, she was developing muscle definition and losing the slightly chunky build of a nerd- replacing it with tight muscles and definition. When she flexed her biceps nearly doubled in size, and that was before she had seen herself in the mirror and noticed abs.  

 

Even as her shoulders and arms ached , she kept at it- a counter on the wall behind the bag ticking up with every solid hit. And they had to be true hits. If she didn’t follow through, if her weight didn’t rock the bag and send it slamming back, the number wouldn’t count.

 

She was at 988.

 

12 more to go.

 

She was tempted to yell and go for it, to call on that well of energy sitting under her skin, the gift she never expected- but that wasn’t needed, she was supposed to be calm. Be focused.

 

She kept her pace. The solid ‘slam’ of her fists as she added to the number one by one.

 

With a final slam, the number ticked over.

 

1000

 

Shaking trembling hands, she stepped away and snagged her bottle, sipping at it as she leaned back against the short retaining wall between her bag and the row of exercise machines behind her, sipping at it slowly as she reached up and put her hand on her neck, feeling her pulse slowly begin to descend.

 

Footsteps drew her attention, and she glanced over to see the short and grumpy form of her current teacher.

 

Yellow cape around his shoulders, leaning on a short cane that was more of a billy club, was Gran Torino.

 

Friend of the seventh user, teacher of the eighth. And now he was teaching her.

 

Melissa Shield, the ninth user of One For All.

 

“Forty-three minutes, and not a flicker of the quirk. Not bad keeping control, kid.”

 

Melissa nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. My arms are shot though.” 

 

The old hero snorted, tapping the ground with his stick. “And if you were trying to use your quirk you would be sitting with broken arms by the five minute mark.”

 

Melissa leaned back with a sigh on her lips, shaking her hands as she slowly began to unwind her hand wraps. “Yeah. I know.”

 

Grumbling about ‘insolent grandkids’, Gran Torino shuffled over and grabbed her hand once the wrapping was off, strong but gentle hands turning her hands one way or the other, gently tugging at her muscles and making her hands flex as he looked at the cracked scabs.

 

“Hmmm… At least you haven’t broken your fingers yet. Though that stupid thing with the combat robot came close.”

 

Melissa winced at that- she had tried sparring one of the I-Islands training robots without considering the difference between ‘hands’ and ‘steel-reinforced armor plating’.

 

Especially when she couldn’t keep All Might’s quirk steady for longer than a minute before it either surged and nearly ripped her muscles or bones apart, or she lost its strength and hit something unprotected by the quirk’s reinforced energy.

 

She had an idea for that- a sort of... a series of regulators, allowing her to focus only on pushing the power out and active.

 

When she had explained, Gran had been unwilling to even consider using a ‘crutch’ as he called it. If she couldn’t keep her power controlled- then she wasn’t ready for the field.

 

So here she was, late on a Thursday as I-Island passed somewhere in the South Pacific, working on her form and her body’s stamina. Following the idea that the better her control, the better she could manage the backlash and fluctuations of the quirk. Only, because Gran Torino was a sadist - she had to do all the exercises at her max.

 

And do it quirkless.

 

“Right.” Gran dropped her hand and stepped over to the punching bag, tapping at the control panel to its side- the screen replacing the counter with a force measurement.

 

“Charge up and hit it.”

 

Standing up, Melissa nodded and shook out her arms before taking her stance- fists high and shoulders tight, hips squared on target- a boxing stance.

 

“Contact… Charge up.” She whispered, eyes closing as she imagined the flipping of a breaker- the way wires began to glow as current rushed through them, energy burning through metal. 

 

She opened her eyes to see the glint of blue sparks flaking from her skin- golden red lines flickered and tracing back and forth across her skin even as she felt her muscles tense up- the ache fading as fresh energy flowed through her limbs.

She wasn’t using it all, the depths of One For All still too deep- too strong, for her to touch.

 

When she felt her limit begin to flicker- the sense of ‘pressure’ too much to resist- she stepped forward and threw a punch. By all metrics it was a good punch. Smooth delivery, straight arms and wrists, perfect twist as she stepped in and twisted her arm and fist downwards- following through as she aimed through the target.

 

With a ripple, air rushed past. The bag snapped from its mooring, slamming into the wall even as the back half of the reinforced fabrics split apart. Metal ball bearings and sand painting the wall with a sunburst of tan and silver-

 

But that was nothing to the pain shooting up Meilissa’s arm, her hand and arm bright red to the elbow, and a deeper purple around where knuckles had made contact- dislocating under the force .

 

Even as she sank to her knees, clutching her hands as Torino knelt to assist her, she saw the numbers above the bag flicker- digits rolling higher- through tears.

 

Finally, it slowed, and she did the math.

 

‘Barely a third of Uncle All Might’s current power… and it still breaks me.’

 

As she closed her eyes she held out her hand, and let Torino gently relocate her finger, bracing and then hissing at the familiar pain.

 

It was an improvement, she knew that… can do the math and see her improvements. Had graphs and records to show every step, every variable she could ever ask for marked down and predicted for the next five years of development.  

 

It didn’t feel like enough. Not yet. Not nearly enough, but she wasn’t sure what else to do.

 

How does someone live up to a legacy like One For All?

---

Then:

Izuku didn’t even hesitate, he couldn’t. The mix of anger- of disdain - forced him into action.

 

A kick and a flare of boosters sent him gliding on an intercept, cutting through the EMF current. One hand reached back and unhooked the shotgun and pulled it around for use, even as he began to twist, arcing in a slow spiral towards the abandoned shuttle- and the Weaver.

 

And then, even as he closed, he fired the boosters. The flaring of his jets sent him on a rapid arc, as if he was ice-skating, as he closed in.

 

He angled low, twisting his legs forwards even as he cut their boosters, only the booster at his back maintaining his arc before it cut off as well.

 

For a long, quiet moment he was drifting, the coral and drifting shuttle racing past him, before with a twitch his boots fired, slowing his momentum and sending him hooking up- circling the shuttle- and surprising the Weaver.

 

The creature wasn’t even ‘facing’ his way, the writhing mass of gold coral and tentacles focused on treating the mass of coral wreathing the shuttle.

 

It only meant that his first strike was completely unexpected- only to shatter the gleaming coral shielding that the weaver wore.

 

‘Fucking armor- .’

 

Shotgun blasts- only audible by the recoil against his suit- threw Izuku’s shoulder back, forcing him to twist to keep on target as round after round ripped the Weaver’s armor- and then its flesh apart- only for its silent writing to respond in kind- a swarm of radioactive cystoids to spawn from its coral mass- swimming through the space on jets of radioactive fuel as they chased Izuku-

 

With a scowl, the teen twisted- left hand flaring with a burst of jet as he swanned to the right, into a circular motion, tracking around the swarm before he was on an intercept course with the weaver, his shotgun clearing the last of the cystoid swarm as they bunched to turn before a twist and flare of the boosters sent him spinning- just to slam boot first into the Typhon, ignoring as its tendrils whipped and lashed out thudding into his suit without any real leverage but tying the two together as Izuku unloaded the last of his shells, the two of them slamming back and into the shuttles wing, before Izuku kicked off, shotgun hanging weightless from its strap as Izuku lifted his handgun and unloaded nearly a full magazine- the first to clear a fresh cystoid from getting close, and the rest to the writhing mess of Typhon.

 

With part of its mass already mulched- the Weaver gave a gleaming shake- ripples of golden corral wreathing it glowing a brighter golden hue-

 

‘Fatal wounds- self destruction!’

 

Izuku flared his jets- swerving as he tried to to pass down and around the edge of the shuttle- only for the blastwave of golden energy to slam into him, throwing him back even as the rad counter blared- heat of the radiation scorching through his suit.

 

But it was over- one of the Weavers was dead.

 

And for some reason, he knew that was Important.

---

Now: Hosu

Kyouka squeezed the bridge of her nose to try and calm the edge of a pounding headache- the darkening afternoon outside the hospital window only making the bright lights of the vending machine brighter- as she tapped her selection with her jacks.

With a whirr and a thunk, the can of espresso dropped into the slot and she snagged it, wincing slightly as one of her cracked nails caught the edge of the slot and nearly ripped a hangnail off.

 

‘Ow, fuck.’

 

Kyouka couldn’t help the wince, despite the fact she had avoided the worst of the fighting- due to the time she spent coordinating with the police and rescue services in the immediate aftermath. After seeing Izuku off on his flight, she had been soon transferred off comms- replaced by a fully prepped squad of Ryukyu’s support group moving in to assist as well as a professional rescue coordination team that was attached to Endeavors Agency working on making it in from the Tokyo Prefecture at top speed.

She had given them all her info- and left them with her comm ID if anything needed her help, before joining an ambulance heading towards the last of the fighting.

 

When she showed up, it was all but over. Only seeing as Izuku worked with some of the Top Pros of the country to finally end the massive ‘Cestus’.

 

Of course, then Izuku had decided to half pass out on her.

 

She had ridden with him to the hospital, Hosu General, and made sure he was taken, passing on that he requested Recovery Girl be informed- that he was likely suffering exhaustion.

 

But, when it was clear that she wasn’t going to be able to help him in the short term, she headed back out to help search and rescue. Her quirk had put her in the second wave of searchers- clearing the stable rubble for any survivors who had been missed or were stuck out of easy reach. She had gotten nearly a dozen dogs, half that in cats, and nearly four dozen people out of the rubble in only an hour and change, before a paramedic bullied her back to the hospital to rest up.

 

Now, back at the hospital, she was covered in dust and her hands and arms were sore- nails cracked and hands ripped up despite using work gloves to clear rubble. She had checked in on Edgeshot- to go officially ‘off duty’, and despite his arm being crushed in the fight he was in remarkably good shape, his room already turned into a base of operations as he tried to coordinate with the rest of his interns and his sponsors to get care packages and assistance in. 

 

Kyouka couldn’t help but worry about his electrical damage, but the hero stated he was waiting on a specialist to show in the next few hours. Despite that, there were rumors that he would experience some lingering nerve damage from the repeated exposure. She had passed Miruko’s room, but the rabbit heroine had passed out, skin feverish as the toxins were purged from her body. Her nurse was positive that it would pass easily, but that it could have been much worse. 

 

Now she just wanted to find Izuku’s room, make sure he was cool and taken care of, and then pass the fuck out.

 

“Hi, can you direct me to Midoriya Izuku, alias Revenant?” As the nurse tapped at the keyboard, Kyouka cracked her can open and took a sip, the bitter brew sitting on her tongue as she fought a wince. ‘Should have gotten a sweeter one, this isn’t great.’

 

Of course, the nurse quickly caught her attention. “I… Don’t have a room number for a Midoriya. Or a Revenant. Do you know where he was dropped off?” 

 

“Yeah, ER general admittance. I let them know he was a hero intern and everything.” Kyouka frowned. “He doesn’t have a room? Last I saw he was resting with the rest of the lower priority intake from the attack.”

 

“No, I'm sorry dear, nothing I can see. You’ll have to check down in the ER. Maybe he was released to family?”

Kyouka nodded and took off on a jog, taking the stairwell as she rushed for the ER. A shiver of anxiety was building down her spine- nervousness. Izuku had trusted her- if something went wrong-

 

Pushing through the door back into the ER from the stairwell, she winced at the spike in noise. The ward was overwhelmed, from spare cots cluttering the hall in rows, to a squad of nurses examining new arrivals and sorting them at the doors. The most severe cases being rushed back towards the surgical wards and the more comprehensive treatment rooms were, while people with lesser injuries were stabilized and left waiting further treatment- and those who were mostly uninjured, but still shocked, were corralled out to another floor and towards the cafeteria, where Kyouka knew a squad of counselors and trauma specialists, and a small army of volunteers, were providing shock blankets, tea, and helping people stay calm and steady themselves.

 

For a moment, Kyouka just tried to look for Izuku, one jack sliding into the floor to try and parse for his heartbeat- only for her to wince and rip the jack free. The amount of ambient noise was overwhelming- any trace of Izuku lost in the haze.

 

Steeling herself, she pushed for the desk, and where a frustrated looking nurse was scowling at a clipboard as he flipped through pages of notes.

 

“Excuse me- I need to find Midoriya Izuku? Codename Revenant?”

 

The nurse glanced up and rolled his eyes, before turning back to his clipboard. “The Null? He’s in the back corner. We’ll deal with him later-”

 

The nurse wasn’t expecting the white-knuckled hand snagging the collar of the scrub and yanking.

 

But Kyouka didn’t care.

 

“Excuse me. Did you just call a U.A. Student. The intern of Miruko. The man who killed half the monsters who did this- a slur. ”

 

The nurse flushed, his skin darkening to a reddish hue- but scowled harder. “So? He can wait- he’s not dying last I checked.”

“And did you contact his actual doctor? The one he fucking requested?”

 

The nurse shoved her hand free of his shirt and stood up straight. “We don’t have the time to cater to such a blatantly unneeded request- Recovery Girl is likely busy running her own triage as we speak-”

 

Gritting her teeth, to avoid screaming at a nurse in public, Kyouka reached out and ripped the phone from the desk and tapped in the UA emergency number- the one she memorized after the shitshow that was the USJ.

 

She was answered in seconds. “UA, State your emergency?”

“Apologies, I need to connect to Recovery Girl. Urgently, please.”

“Of course. Hold one.”

 

Kyouka ignored as the nurse tried to reach for her, smacking his hand with a jack as she scowled in his direction. 

 

The hold tone let up, the sound of shuffling paper and tapped keyboards filling the silence even as the heroine’s voice came over the line. “Recovery Girl here.”

“Apologies, Midoriya Izuku is currently being delayed treatment at the Hosu General’s Emergency Ward.”

 

There was a loaded silence as all the background noise stopped. “I will be there shortly. Who is refusing him treatment?”

 

Kyouka glanced at the Nurse and read his nametag. “A nurse by the name of K. Mayuri. Ram horns, blue hair.”

 

The facts of the situation seemed to be hitting said nurse, his face paling as he swallowed, silently twitching as if to continue grabbing the phone.

“Hmm. Pass me to him?”

 

Kyouka held out the phone, a sharp tight smile on her lips. “She wants to talk to you.”

Mayuri’s face looked almost like spoiled milk- as he began stuttering into the receiver, only for a firm tone to tell him to “Shut up and listen.”

She left him to the scathing tone of a rant as she headed for the back. Mayuri would be handled, but she was here for Izuku.

 

The cot was shoved into the back corner, second or third from the wall, but only because the other beds had full sets of diagnostic machines plugged into the outlets and took up the space. Izuku’s cot was instead tucked behind a machine on one side, and another, occupied bed, on the other. He was still asleep, it seemed. His heart rate was slow but slightly irregular- not the constant perfectly measured beats she was used to, but slow and… lethargic.

 

His torso armor had been removed, piled in a plastic tote at the foot of his bed, and the flimsy paper shirt he was now wearing showed the stark differences. Stretches of pale unmarred skin laid next to bright peeling sunburns. Small cuts gleamed with dark scabbing, and some sections of his skin showed what looked like road rash.

 

What was more concerning was the bruising that seemed to come from inside his joints and arms. His hands were dark red, palms torn up and fingers held loose, knuckles darkened to purple and yellow hues that reached for his wrists and stretched around his elbows and up his shoulders. There wasn’t any major swelling- but it was clear that he pushed himself much farther than she had ever seen. Thin scabbed over lines criss crossed his right shoulder- where his armor was thinnest. The plate they had pulled off had been scored straight through, but had kept the worse off his skin.

 

Beyond that were the less obvious signs. Any trace of the fat he had gained in the last few weeks was all but gone. Looking over him, Kyouka could trace where the softer curve of his jaw was building over the last few weeks, it was now harsh and shallow, and the muscles of his arms were sharply defined once more, even while limp and resting. 

 

Of course, that’s when a new nurse- no, the head nurse rushed her way, apparently finally aware of what was going on. The taller man was strongly built and in his early twenties, and his scowl was fierce.

 

“Apologies, let's get you situated in a room, yeah? I’ve got some preliminary treatments to set up, including a bag of nutrition to help curb his metabolics.”

 

As the cot was kicked into gear and Izuku was pushed towards the elevators, Kyouka snagging his sword from where it was resting against the side, and tucked it close to his side, handle in easy reach.

 

She wasn’t leaving him unarmed, not with that shoddy excuse for a nurse around.

---

Then:

The shuttle was… desolate. A withered corpse hooked into a pilot seat- another in the passenger space with a shattered helmet whose face was bloodied and torn apart… and another one who was desiccated.

 

A Mimic victim.

Pulling his way through to the cockpit and pushing the pilots body back down, he reached out to catch a floating transcribe- the comm function still intact and open. Izuku connected and downloaded the latest log, playing it back as Izuku scavenged the ship.

 

“Seif, this is Captain Hale. Shuttle Exalt. I'm trying to hail the bridge. Getting zip. Can you confirm please?”

 

Izuku leaned back with a pained sigh, eyeing the dark back half of the shuttle as he pulled his shotgun around. With careful motions to keep shells from floating free, he reloaded one by one as the log continued.

 

“I have some system malfunctions. It's uh... across the board, hard to make sense. I need to park ASAP.”

 

With a final click, the shotgun was fully loaded and he reached up, flicking on the flashlight of his helmet- a square shaped light peering into the darkness.

 

“Uh, recommend security detail when I come in. Hearing some noise in the cabin. Shit, what is going on.”

 

Izuku sighed, some small bitter part of him already knowing what was going to happen. Pushing forwards, he headed for the cargo compartment.

 

"All right. Shit. Investigating cabin. I have a sidearm. If all clear I will attempt to EVA to an airlock."

 

As Izuku opened the door and the first leaping Mimic came for him, he wasn’t surprised.

Just annoyed.

---

Now: Kamino Ward

The bar stank of blood, antiseptic, and fire, deserted of life aside from the ragged forms of the injured villains.

 

Stain was limp, eyes closed as he slumped to one side in a booth, his stump of an arm capped with a metal ring and a thick bundle of stained bandages- his body covered in stitches as the myriad of cuts across his form had been sealed and tied off. Even now, hanging from the back of the booth’s wall, a transfusion of blood slowly drained down an IV to his intact arm, helping him slowly recover from the blood loss of his surgery and the wounds of the day. 

 

Not far from him, Dabi was stretched out at a table, one leg splinted and heavily bandaged propped ahead of him, knee bundled tightly as it rested over another chair and his body wrapped in loose bandages that pressed cooling burn creams and ice to his skin. Unlike Stain, he was  awake, a couple of glasses sitting before him, one full of ice water and the other of whisky. Sipping at the water he stared out at the room, frustration in his features.

 

But he was not nearly as frustrated as his new boss.

 

Shigaraki sat at the bar, files and notes scattered over the surface as he scowled, a laptop glowing as its screen replayed the footage of the various Nomu. It wasn’t perfect, the fidelity varied widely and was hard to follow. Some folders were flecked with blood from the emergency surgery that had occurred, while others that’d been pulled out later on were pristine white. Across from him, Kurogiri was cleaning the stretch of counter where treatment had been performed- gleaming eyes narrowed at where a burned handprint refused to scour away. 

 

But Shigaraki was the one Dabi watched.

 

And the longer he watched, the more drawn in he became.

 

Because Shigaraki Tomura looked unhinged. 

 

His eyes wide and manic, one hand holding a pen as he scribbled notes after notes, tapping at the laptop to replay chunks of recordings, the sights of dead civilians and screaming heroes on display. The man hadn’t even changed out of his ‘costume’, the jacket slung over a nearby barstool, his blood flecked shirt and pants still showing signs of his encounters and his assistance with the surgeries.

 

Beyond just the recordings of the fights he had the TV, muted with captions, running behind the bar where news stations covered the Hosu aftermath. Burned out apartments- ruined streets. Destroyed storefronts and vehicles, infrastructure gouged out and ripped apart.

 

Cut amongst them were clips of heroes- Endeavor and his team in the plaza, the race of Impulse against the Nomu and amongst the rubble. Crust with his fist held high atop another Nomu, the rush of red feathers, a side view of a focused Hawks and the sight of a dragon formed Ryukyu.

 

And above all, the image of Revenant backlit by flames, blade crossing with the Hero-Killer. Stills of the fight where they were clearly backlit, the fights… censored scenes of a flyaway arm.

 

The commentary was split. Some stations were focused on ‘The Horror’. Groups of vague ‘experts’ talking loudly about the Death Toll of nearly 500 and rising, the collateral damage and the brutality. They spoke of how the heroes failed here- how many had fallen in battle. And Revenant? They called him a murderer. A weapon that needed to be regulated, to be controlled. 

 

But that was just a vocal minority.

 

The rest were talking about terrorism.

 

About the League. About the dangers of what appeared to be true monsters in the Nomu, the suddenness of the attack, what should be changed- how the heroes should react. How they should be on guard. How people could help. Donations, volunteers, spare resources. They spoke of Revenant not as a weapon- but as a point of contrast. Why was he the only one ready for a fight like this? Who is he? His history as a victim was pulled apart- talking points of trauma and response already being teased by a psychologist on one site, facts and supposition crafted and repeated as they raced from channel to channel- all wanting to be the ‘first’ to explain everything, to have the first answer.

 

And watching it all, reviewing the day, sat Tomura.

 

He wasn’t ready for Izuku yet. His player two was higher leveled, ready for the fights. But Shigaraki knew the game. He knew how to lead Izuku into his own self made trap.

 

He had done it to the teen before, along with a small army of trolls- hackers who had hid just a bit of information at a time, in order to make that overblown fob of a knight suffer.

 

Oh, Solaire’s fall was poetry. A fate he wished to echo with All Might, to see him shattered, his dream corrupted and revealed as folly. It would be so ironic.

 

Alas- he had rushed. Had gotten greedy. 

 

Oh well. 

 

He would just have to be better next time. Already, Hosu was such a demonstrative improvement. He had seen just how fast Revenant could respond, even as an unwanted surprise.

That meant that next time, he would just have to run his operation tighter. Trim the fat, cut down on the monologues, act faster on the trigger.

 

Practice, practice, practice.

 

Shigaraki Tomura couldn’t help but chuckle as he worked.

 

And Dabi, watching on, could only wonder how deep in the rabbit hole he was.

---

Then:

Izuku dragged another box from its holding, sorting through supplies as he organized things.

 

Food and other trip specific things for the trip back to earth were tucked aside, along with most of the crew and passengers personal belongings. Most of the cargo was disassembled machinery or gear- things the station couldn’t build on site…

But there was some good loot.

A briefcase sized medical kit, a pack of the Q-cells, a pack of general tools and spare parts. Things he was always running low on- including a spare suit repair/replacement kit- which was nice since his was currently showing more than a bit of damage.

But, as he moved one last crate and inspected the cubby behind it- he found it.

 

“I knew there was some kind of smuggler's stash. No one who works on this goddamn station is on the straight and narrow.”

 

It took a bit to dislodge the panel, but when he did, he pulled a foul and plastic wrapped package.

 

‘Oh, Drugs? Really?’

 

Izuku began to unwrap it- only to blink.

“Oh.. Not drugs… Neuromods.”

Two of them, wrapped in styrofoam and excess padding. Holding it up to his light, he read the labels.

Unassigned: 0-0-0

A blank one? Interesting…

IM-22-Artistry

 

“Huh…. Artistry? That’s a new one.”

Rewrapping them, Izuku tucked it into his pack as he began to tape the rest of his loot together.

 

He could go back into the station through the hardware labs- check on the lobby security, and then take the elevator back up to the Arboretum…

Of course- he also needed to check in with January too.

 

Now that he had half the arming key… he had more options.

Chapter 62: Long Rest

Summary:

Aftermath and Recovery.

How do you deal with the pain, the ache, the loss. How do you face the scars you've gained?

Blood and ash.

 

The acrid scent of flames, of distant charred flesh.

 

Izuku sat on the steps leading into the First Kiln.

 

Several dozen swords, axes, and polearms lay at his side, some stuck out of the grooves of the steps like banners- others laying in sheathes or hanging from leather straps and the shafts of spears. Many had blades chipped and edges dull- but just as many showed the signs of recent sharpening. Armor sat in piles of different shapes and weights, matching sets and styles bundled together- even as unique helms and masks hung from cross guards and perched on hilts. A myriad of standards hung from them- often ragged and stained. Only the cleanest were carefully folded, piled in a chest at the end of the steps. 

 

In his hands, a tightly wound bag of sand, threadbare and abrasive, was scrubbing at a gauntlet. The rough sand texture scraping and polishing the grooves of the armor. It had taken a blunt blow days ago, and ever since it had caught on a specific twist of the wrist. And that was only the start. Dings, scratches, sheared off rivets, twisted panels. Cloth padding was ripped and charred, ragged leather worn thin and stained with blood.

 

At his feet, he had a set of files, hammers and jars of oil sitting in a chest. Behind him, on the platform with the vessel of lord souls was another chest, filled with scraps of metal and leather, stolen from disassembled armor from a myriad of dead. Even further back was the now familiar glow of the Bonfire, and surrounding it the small forest of bound blades and weapons that followed him from flame to flame, sheathed in the ashes of the fire.

 

He was close.

 

So close.

 

But he wasn’t going to rush. He had to do this right, and he didn’t have time to test himself on the final challenges like the previous. The routes back, the paths in the bonfire… had been destabilizing one by one. The longer he took, the more likely he would never be able to leave.

 

Too much data. Too much wear on the machine. It was focusing down on the end. Deleting everything else as useless. It’s why he had rushed to drag everything he could here. From the most basic of daggers to the most ornate of armors.

He hefted the gauntlet higher, shaking the traces of sand free as dragged it on, twisting his arm to test the motion.

 

Smooth. It didn’t catch on the wrist anymore.

 

Setting it back down, Izuku stared out of the threshold, taking a moment to stare at the billowing ash and warped stone awaiting him. It was a blast site. He could trace where stone and metal had deformed- the waves of heat leaving patterns almost like… Kacchan’s explosions. The ripple of force. All contained by the high walls of the kiln, what once were the walls of an unassailable fortress, curved inwards by time and heat. Melting under its own weight and the heat of its lord.

 

In the distance, he saw it. Another of the knights… the last loyal blades of Gwynn- those who burned alongside him, rising up the long path, pacing through the eternal storm of ash and heat- coming to challenge the challenger once more.

 

A Black Knight, steps steady, armor smoldering red from the heat of the kiln… before cooling to a black heat, still hot enough to sear flesh. It paced up, ignoring the bodies of its kin- or perhaps those of its own past existences. The glitching was making the logic of this realm… softer. Prone to interpretation.

 

Regardless, it paced to stand even with the outermost body- another black-clad knight's corpse pinned with a grand tooth of dragonbone that had crushed its chest and was left embedded in a small crater through the stone and ash beneath the armor- left out like a gravemarker for the rest of the Black Knights.

 

Slowly, it raised a massive black greatsword in salute- and waited.

 

Part of Izuku wanted to leave it. To make it wait- but that would only invite more to appear. To wait at the threshold for him in mass. That had happened only once before now. He would rather not face four of them at once again.

 

Izuku stood slowly, wearing a layered black cloak and robe over his greaves and armored pants, the cloth was keeping the burning wind from skin. Even as he took his first steps, a red painted handle was already in his grasp. At his waist a tabard of the sun, ripped and burned, unfolded and billowed from his belt with each step. At the edges of his cloak, gold embroidery caught the light, shimmering with enchantments that kept the worst of the heat from reaching his flesh.

 

He gave the haft of his weapon a stomp on the tile, the ashes stuck along the wood shaking free. The halberd’s axe-head held high- metal gleaming with a crystalline shimmer.

 

He took a step forward- into the heat-

 

Now

- And woke up, eyes cracked narrow with intent- before relaxing at the lack of burning wind.

 

Izuku blinked, staring at the off white ceiling. The lights were off, the room dim- the hall lights were still on- casting the room with pale light from the frosted window of the doorway. Distantly he heard the sound of people moving and speaking, sound echoing off linoleum and smooth cream colored walls. He breathed in slowly, and winced at the scent of cleaning supplies and sterile surfaces- and beneath that… blood.

 

And there was even the lingering scent of smoke and scorched flesh-

 

Oh wait, that was him. He lifted his arms to check his hands, and winced at the motion and the sight.

 

‘Ow.’

 

Burns- first degree but edging to second- were patterned and striped across most of his arms and hands. More stretched up and around his shoulders- and when he winced, Izuku could feel how his face felt… tight. And beyond the burns and the tightness of his skin, his muscles ached - shades of purple and yellow lingering around his joints and deep in his muscles. Stress tears. Signs he had dislocated or injured his ligaments and been under immense pressure or force.

 

With a low groan of effort, he levered himself up.

 

There was a heart rate monitor clipped on his right hand, and an IV in his left arm, a bag of saline hanging at his bedside, a pair of empty bags hanging from the same hook- his eyes traced the labels before finding TPN- Total Parenteral Nutrition. Nutrient IV mixtures to replace meals- which considering how hot his metabolic processes had been running by the time he collapsed, he definitely needed. That also explained why his stomach wasn’t aching that bad- but he’ll need to swing by the cafeteria sooner or later.

 

Looking around the rest of the room, he found the pile of armor- his breastplate, arm guards, harnesses and half-skirt, as well as his boots- sitting on a spare chair. He was still wearing his combat pants by the feeling from under the blanket- and his sword was laying at his right side, tucked in easy reach. 

 

The room wasn’t a single suite, but a triple. The other two beds looked mostly unoccupied, or at least unassigned, considering the far bed was empty and neither had any of the usual paperwork or turned on devices that signal a patient. The middle bed, however, had Kyouka sprawled across it.

 

She looked exhausted, even in sleep. Black streaks stuck to her face where she had wiped away ash and smoke, her hair was disheveled and clothes- the jacket hanging from the foot of the bed and her boots on the floor beneath them- were still covered with ash and char, as well as the familiar dark specks of blood stains. As he glanced over her, he could see the wrappings on her hands, bandages across her arms- nothing serious, but signs that she had been in the mayhem. She was sprawled awkwardly, legs still off the side of the bed- as if exhaustion had just hit her before she was ready. It likely had, adrenaline had its cost.

 

He was… proud. Of her progress. Of what he had seen her do the day before.

 

Competence and determination were a good look on her.

 

Turning back to his own body, Izuku began to stretch as much as he could while sitting- simple motions first. Clenching and splaying his fingers, twisting his wrists and flexing one way, then the other, rotating his shoulders. He let his pulse rise- felt as his blood slowly flooded each muscle group, one by one, to wash away remnants of lactic acid and bring new blood and nutrients to repair the damage.  It wasn’t visible- but by the time he was done, nearly half an hour later, the ache had settled and the first signs of peeling burns- where it was tight around his joints- was appearing on his skin.

 

There was a beep- and he dug into his pockets for his phone, seeing the protective casing was cracked- one corner crumpled- but the screen and phone itself was safe, he undid the case, sliding his phone free, and flicked it open and thumbed in one of several ten-digit unlock codes. 

 

06:44 AM

 

Ah, he must have been out of it for a while… he opened his messenger app and winced at the sudden burst of notifications that began to update as his phone reconnected to the wider network now it was unlocked- and began to parse through them.

Several were his own monitoring feeds- his name had shown up in… looks like 30 or so news articles so far, and his real name had been trending. Twice.

Dismissing those until he could address them in comfort- he opened his messages. He had seven missed calls from his mom- and over forty messages asking for information or how he was. The last of them said she’d been contacted by U.A. and they assured her Izuku was alive and whole, and to call her when he could.

 

A missed call and several messages from Momo: She had heard about Hosu and was coming in with the relief force for the night… eleven hours ago. There were a few follow-up questions about if he was okay- but it finished with a message that Kyouka had contacted her, and wished him luck- and to message back when he was safe.

 

A message asking for him to call when he woke up from Miruko.

 

One from Iida Tenya caught his eye.

 

‘My apologies for dragging you into so much trouble, Midoriya. Please, forgive me for my hubris and recklessness.’

 

Izuku couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Even now, Iida was taking all the blame. It wasn’t as if he had been prepared and planning to duel Stain with the assistance of a top ten professional hero- oh wait.

 

Self sacrificial moron.

 

There were more. Most of them were from unknown numbers, and he didn’t care to figure out who was trying to contact him. Not yet.

 

…What did he want?

 

For a long moment Izuku just sat there, considering.

 

He wanted… booze. The burn of harsh spirits in his throat, the warm comfort of a cigar to distract his senses. His skin was crawling with discomfort- something he rarely had to endure for long. He was used to the nightmares leaving him untouched, to waking in beds feeling refreshed, only the echoes of hell crawling under his skin… this was much the inverse. The demons were quiet- the rush of adrenaline and dopamine still lingering in his blood satiating them. But his body, his form, it ached . Without a distraction, without motion or movement, it was nearly unbearable. His sensitive nervous system, his finely tuned sense of touch was going haywire. It was nearly as unbearable as going hollow- no, not that bad…

 

Little compared to that. 

 

“I need a shower.”

 

Plucking the IV from his vein and pinching the line to stop the fluid from flowing was a moment's work, the needle slid out with barely a bead of blood to mark its absence, and the heart rate monitor was turned off and detached with little effort.

Tossing the thin sheets aside, he slowly stood and stretched, letting his body adjust to the change in blood flow after hours of laying down. On quiet feet, he stepped around the room to reorganize his gear, leaving his blades and utility pouches in easy reach- before passing by Kyouka and taking a moment to make her more comfortable. First, he tugged the sheet under her so that she was actually on the bed fully, before pulling a blanket from where he had left it on his bed and carefully tucking her in. She shifted somewhat, a soft sound of relief coming as she settled back down, and he organized her boots to sit under her jacket at the foot of the bed. Less of a tripping hazard.

 

That done, he headed for the room's small restroom and shower, pausing at a cabinet to loot a pair of patient gowns and some loose pull tie pants, the loose robe-like clothes ubiquitously found in hospitals everywhere.

 

Getting into the restroom, he had a chance to catch sight of his reflection, and scowled at the mess.

 

His hair, normally consisting of sleek and iridescent curls, the green hues catching the light in loose curls, was a sweat matted and greasy mess. The green looked more like the sheen of caustic oil than its normal color.

 

With a sigh, he dug through the vanity and drawers of the small bathroom, rifling past the variety of one use toothbrushes, soaps, and combs- before sighing in frustration as all they had were cheap plastic combs and a pair of black hair clips. It would have to do.

 

Stripping off his pants, he gathered a selection of the available soaps, shampoos, and lotions, a pair of disposable combs, and a towel.

 

As the lukewarm water began to run in the shower, Izuku took pleasure in finally washing the blood and ash from his body. For a long moment he let the slightly cool water ease the itch of his burns, before he slowly rose the temperature.

 

There as dawn slowly colored the room through the window, Izuku cleaned the last of Hosu from his skin.

 

Then

With the hiss of repressurized air, Izuku leaned against the side of the airlock. The artificial gravity kicked in as he set the case of supplies from the shuttle on the decking with a thunk. Checking his handgun magazine was full and the shotgun reloaded, he took a breath and hit the door control. 

 

With a whirr, the internal door unshuttered and slid open and the open bay of the Hardware Lab was revealed once more. 

 

For a moment, he saw nothing moving.

 

Reaching down, he snagged the edge of the supply case and slid it out onto the grate outside the airlock, before stepping past it, moving with a low, slow, step, handgun raised as he scanned the open work bay.

 

Nothing moved.

 

Lowering his handgun, and now out of the vacuum of space, he knelt next to the crate and reached into his suits pockets, pulling a bundle of paracord and a spare sling strap for his shotgun out. Setting the gun on the crate, and keeping his body facing out at the bay, he got to work. Looping the cord and forming a quick harness that wrapped around the case, two loops hanging from each side for easy carrying. And with the click of a pair of carabiners, perfect hooks for the shotgun sling.

 

Throwing it over his left shoulder, he could carry the case and drop it whenever he needed to- and his left arm would be free in seconds. But for now, he was gonna try being fast and quiet.

 

With the case secured, he took off. Walking quietly along the wall- gun making slow sweeps of the room, he headed back towards the main lobby of Talos 1.

 

Of course, while the hardware bay was clear of Typhon…

 

The next room wasn’t.

 

As the door opened, he stared out into the open walkways and gravlifts of the hardware lab central room- 

 

And the goddamn technopath who was floating in the center, surrounded by half a dozen hacked operators.

 

‘Shit.’

 

With a sigh, he closed the door before he could get noticed and dropped the case back behind the doorway. Stretching out, he reached back for his shotgun and an EMP charge, and took a deep breath.

 

“Back to it.”

 

Hitting the door controls once more- he tossed the EMP dead center into the floating bundle of aliens and AI- and rushed in shotgun high.

Now

Shoto woke up in pain. His body felt feverish, muscles aching and throat burned- the sensations were familiar. He had been burned and was suffering the effects of heat stroke. Severe heatstroke. 

 

For a long moment he wasn’t… coherent. Lost in the pain and the conflicting sensation of heat and pain and chills. Eventually he managed to focus, the lights of a hospital room coming into some level of focus, the scent of disinfectant and the familiar tang of aloe and burn cream filling his throat. He blinked and felt the skin of his face tense and taunt- signs of lesser burns.

 

What- what had happened?

 

He winced and tried to remember- and it came rushing back.

 

‘Ice that smelled like Iron and copper. Red and pink streaks rising from the base-

 

-bloated flesh that bubbled and blackened, that froze and ripped apart-

 

-the whirring of the auger. The cracking of the ice-

 

Shoto came back to himself, leaning over the side of the cot, heaving as bile dripped from his lips. Stomach acid and the bare minimum of food from the day before pooled on the floor- and his arm- he had to see his arm.

 

He remembered the pain of heating it back up, of feeling as the skin blistered- but he got his blood flow returning, how the cold blue of frostbite had receded- but not without issues.

 

His arm was covered in bandages, and with his other hand, he clawed at the mass, ripping the cloth before with a snarl he cut through the top layer with a bead of flame, curling the cloth enough to grip and tear.

 

The pain was blinding - but he ignored it, and the way his machines were beeping around him- alarms calling for aid.

 

He didn’t care.

 

With one last yank- the bandages slid down his arm, and a fresh wave of pain came with it as blistered skin rubbed and yanked free- pus and fluid dripping down his arm.

 

Ripped open scabs and blisters covered his arm, repeating lines that rose over the skin and raced down his arm, fanning out and irregular, the markings of his left arm where the flames had been too hot.

 

It started at his shoulder, just below the joint, repeating down in lines of bubbled flesh, second degree burns that rippled down to his wrist- 

 

Shoto gave a hard exhale- and realized that he was shaking. 

 

The bandages hung from his wrist, dripping creams and pus across the sheets as he reached up to his chest, feeling his lungs ache as he drew shuddering breath after shuddering breath-

 

Before someone was in his face, bright orange eyes staring at him from under flaming green locks, pulled back into a tight ponytail.

 

She wasn’t in her hero outfit, instead wearing an unzipped jacket over an Endeavor icon t-shirt. 

 

He blinked, and was being pulled into a loose hug, her arms around his back as the roar of blood in his ears began to fade.

 

“-u’re alive. You’re gonna be okay. Relax. Just relax-”

 

When the shaking was done- he was unconscious.

 

And when he next woke Moe was at his side, sitting in a chair with her phone out.

 

From here he could see her sporty tights and hotpants- matching her jacket.

 

He opened his mouth- only to nearly choke on the raw and dry sensation.

 

Moe was quick to get him water, and when he was able to talk, he only had one question.

 

“... How's …father?”

 

“Severe heatstroke, several cuts and severe quirk exhaustion. He’ll be out sometime tomorrow if everything goes as planned.” 

 

Shoto closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. “And… Kido?”

 

Moe slumped. Her hair darkened as it almost flickered out. “He… didn’t make it. Bled out on the scene.” She shook her head and snagged the clipboard from his bedside. “You’re gonna take a day or two longer. Our burn specialist will be by at some point for your arm. But…” Moe shifted uncomfortably, looking at his arm. Sometime while he was out of it, someone had reapplied the bandages.

 

Looking down he stared at the wounds. Mind already remembering the last burns he had that got this bad… the one on his face. “I already know. They’re gonna leave scars.”

 

Moe winced. “Yeah. The doctors say that you shouldn’t have much restricted mobility- but that you’ll likely need some physical therapy to recover over the next few weeks.”

 

Shoto nodded, but for a long moment was quiet. Moe stood to leave, she had to go visit Enji and check with the nurses to let them know Shoto was awake, but before she could leave-

“Burnin.”

 

She turned back, taking in the bandaged form of Shoto.

 

“Do you know where Midoriya Izuku’s room is?”

Then
Izuku gave a deep breath, wincing as he felt one of his ribs shift with the motion. He had focused down the technopath just fine, the EMP and most of a full reload of shotgun ammo tearing it apart before it could electrocute him again- but that had just sent the operators into ‘suicide bomb’ mode. He had GLOOed up and the first pair until they exploded, and dodged into the grav-lift up to the upper level to avoid the blast, shot down the third with the last shell in the shotgun- and was blindsided by the fourth.

 

Which decided to tackle him at full acceleration and then blow the fuck up.

 

He had dodged the worst of the explosion, but it had involved throwing himself over a railing and taking a ten foot drop back to the first floor- breaking what was already probably a fractured rib.

 

He stabbed another painkiller syringe into his chest, checked he was able to draw a full breath without any concerning gurgles or coughing blood, and sighed in relief when he didn’t feel the sensation of blood filling his lungs.

 

Hooking the strapped up case back over his shoulder, he picked up the pace.

 

Hallways passed with quiet steps, his handgun leading- and picking off a pair of mimics who thought they were being sneaky.

 

At the end of it all, he passed another security door and into the Talos 1 Lobby once more.

 

Only to curse at the sound of automatic weapons fire from one- no. that was two turrets.

 

Slinging the case onto a table in the drafting room nearest the entrance- Izuku took off at a sprint, only slowing on the walkway above the lobby, looking down as he saw the flashes of gunfire coming from around the door to the shuttle bay. Sprinting along the upper walkway, the sight became clearer. The pair of turrets firing, and the erratic sound of a shotgun joining in. 

 

“COME GET SOME FUGLY!”

 

And there was Aaron, crouched behind the counter of the lobby’s bar, only sticking out enough to aim and fire at the small horde of mimics and a phantom that were trying to advance past piled up furniture from the bay. Even as he got closer- he saw the phantom fall apart, another mimic getting chunked in the process as the turrets locked onto them.

 

“Shit! They’re still coming. LADY, CAN YOU PLEASE GET THAT DOOR SHUT!”

 

“Working on it!” And that was Sho. She must be down in the security office trying to override the door controls and close off the the bay-

 

And if Izuku wanted to help he needed to get down there.

 

He reached for one of the null emitters on his belt- before sprinting for the railing above where the fight was.

 

Leaping off, he hit the thruster and threw the emitter down the hallway, before rolling with the impact of his descent and sliding to a stop across the bar from Aaron. As the Phantom reeled back, more gunshots from the turrets found their target- shedding chunks of limbs- and then ripping the Typhon apart.

 

“KID!”

 

“Sorry for being late-”

 

“NO TIME- MOVE!”

 

And as Izuku turned he saw the bay doors open to reveal another pair of phantoms- and behind them, down the corridor, what had opened the doors for them floated after them.

 

‘Another fucking technopath!’

 

“Shit.”

 

A burst of static- sparks arcing across the brass fittings of the hallway, the light arcing Izuku’s way even as the turrets seized, twitching-

 

‘No time. If it hacks my little network-’

 

Izuku let his reflexes kick in, thumb triggering his boosters even as he leapt over the arcing bolts that raced his way, one foot catching the railing just in time to lunge forwards- his hand gripping the shoulders of the first Phantom as he twisted- knee slamming into the second as the first freaked out under his grip- the semi-solid mass of its torso unraveling at the contact- only for the trigger of his Gloo cannon to click into place- the unraveling mass freezing into GLOO soaked mass even as it bound to his hands- 

 

But that was fine, he was already high- most of his weight suspended on his hands- and his boots were stuck on full boost.

 

With a grunt of effort he realigned his soles upwards and slammed the torso into the still electrified ground with a sound akin to shattered porcelain- the frozen tendrils shattering at the impact- even as Izuku flexed his arms and pushed up and off the mass, boots flickering off as they ran out of stored air- just in time for him to donkey kick the floating mass of the technopath up into the ridge of the doorway, above the cover of the phantoms who had been its vanguard.

 

With a sudden whir- he heard the turrets and yanked his feet down, twisting into a ball as the turrets reset.

 

And then the space above him was filled with fully automatic gunfire.

 

Now

Momo wiped the sweat and rainwater from her face, wincing as it came away with a gray streak down her arm.

 

Fatgum and his agency, her included, had rushed to Hosu in the wake of everything. It was too late for the fights- all the Nomu had been dead for hours before they even got within the borders of the district- taking a pair of Fatgum Agency food trucks, one driven by Fatgum, one by Shiro.

 

She had traveled with Shiro- and he had noticed her anxiety about what had become of her friends in the fight. In an effort to distract her, he had begun talking about what, exactly, the food trucks were prepared for. And the details were astounding . All of the actual kitchen equipment- cooking and preparation surfaces, were designed to be ultralight and take minimal size and space- leaving nearly twice the storage of a conventional food truck of similar make and model. Much of this space was taken up with shelf stable ingredients such as noodles, rice, flour, granola- and more. But there were also two freezers in each truck filled with meat, dairy, and fruits and veg. Once a month, whenever they needed to restock, Fatgum would drive out to whatever part of Tokyo was reporting the highest population of homelessness and unload simple meals to everyone who passed for free.

 

And that was just food- an entire section of the storage was devoted to medical supplies- everything from pharmaceuticals to blood bags to antibiotics and a full kit of vaccinations. While not a full surgical suite- it was more than enough to run a small clinic for each truck. And in an emergency like Hosu- or a natural disaster such as an earthquake, a flood, or after a tropical storm- that was lifesaving.

 

Momo also learned that as well as being a certified dietician, Shiro was also a certified field medic and an up to date pharmacist with degrees in biochemistry and nursing.

 

By the time they reached Hosu, the streets had been cleared enough for the trucks to get into the thick of it- and then things had gotten busy.

 

Hosu had a combined police and Firefighter population of just about fifteen thousand people- at a rate of about three cops for each firefighter.

 

But, it was only an hour from central Tokyo, and the Tokyo Fire Department has a membership of nearly twenty thousand by itself- and nearly three thousands of those members, fully equipped with fire engines, search and rescue, and medical equipment, had come into Hosu over the evening. By the time the food trucks were set up- at the two biggest ‘basecamps’ of search and rescue, the first responders were flagging, hungry, and tired, and numbered in the thousands. And that was before they considered the civilian population.

 

Which meant that the moment the trucks parked Momo was tossed head first into serving, cooking, and managing the crowds that came her way. Shiro was focused on the food, giving her directions as needed, but letting her focus on the crowd.

 

For nearly another three hours straight, she was serving and assisting the crowd- crates of water bottles handed out and rice bowls topped with high energy meats and sauces were served. By the time the crowd had dispersed- the rescue teams heading back out to resume search and rescue and the firefighters returning to the hot spots, she was exhausted. She had fallen asleep in the truck’s passenger seat sometime around nightfall- and only woken early in the morning to serve breakfast. Overnight the last of the fires had been extinguished- and a light rain had begun, soot and ash making the rain puddles turn black and gray. It had been praised and hated in turn by the other rescue teams. It put the last of the fires out, but it made moving rubble and digging through the damage all the harder to do. 

 

Finally, with breakfast served, Shiro and Fatgum had given her permission to go find her friends.

 

Ducking out of the rain and into the hospital lobby, Momo was now headed for the stairs. Izuku had, from what Kyouka texted her, been tucked into one of the harder to reach rooms. Fourth floor, far end of the wing. She had implied that there was some sort of confrontation about it- but Momo didn’t have the details.

 

Finally she found it, the right room, only to slow down as she realized the lights were off and that Izuku and Kyouka might be asleep or resting.

 

Knocking softly, she waited a second- before slowly opening the door when there was no response.

 

The light of the hallway lit up the dark room, thick curtains pulled across the far window against the rain and morning light. Blinking as her eyes adjusted, she took in Kyouka on the middle bed, a blanket tucked around her, boots sitting on the floor by her bed.

 

And the empty bed next to hers, sheets unmade and messy, Izuku’s armor and sword next to it.

 

For a moment, she almost panicked- wondering where her friend had gone- what had happened to him- before the door to the rooms' ensuite bathroom opened, harsh light spilling into the room.

Highlighted from behind, a shirtless Izuku leaned against the door frame, body all tense lines- steam from behind him and the wet sheen of his hair hanging plastered to his neck and shoulders and skin showing he had been in the shower recently- 

 

Of course, at the sight of her, his body relaxed, Izuku exhaling as he leaned more heavily on the frame, deep seated exhaustion rising to the surface of his expression. “Fuck, Momo- you should have waited for me to answer the door.” 

 

The girl would have responded- but her eyes were locked on the young man's form. Not at the muscles or his lack of clothing- though she would likely remember them in all their detail later- but at the bruising.

 

Izuku’s torso was a patchwork of dark yellows and purples. Blisters around where he had been exposed to the heat, now peeling to expose fresh pink skin. Even a few small scabs showed where crystals had scraped past armor. Joints looked inflamed, sections of his arms and shoulders with vividly bright popped capillaries spread like webbing- signs of him overclocking his body. His face was not much better. His entire jaw had a dark shadow of a healing bruise to his neck, and under his eyes were dark rings from where his mask had pressed to his face. 

 

As she stared, he reached up and rubbed at his face, a thin spike of metal in his palm falling into view as he flexed his other hand, showing where it had been hidden from easy view. He set it down on the counter of the room and turned back a grimace on his lips as he pressed back on the doorway. “Give me a moment.”

 

As he stepped back in, Momo finally caught her breath, blushing as she realized her lapse in decorum- before hearing a soft snicker.

 

Laying on her claimed bed, still snuggled up under the blanket, Jirou was smirking at her, one eye still closed and expression tired but amused.

 

“Nice view, huh Momo?”

 

“Shut. Up.” 

 

The door opened again to cut off the teasing- Izuku now wearing what looked like two thin patient robes- layered  under each other. One backwards, the smooth surface snug to his chest, the other open and pulled around it. As she watched, the teen winced as he pulled a cheap comb through his curls, irritation in his body language as he tugged at the knotted mass.

 

Momo leaped at the chance to help do something.

 

“Would- would you like my help with that?” 

 

Kyouka’s knowing smirk from behind Izuku did not help her regain her composure!

 

Izuku’s slumped shoulders- however- quickly grounded her. “If you’re okay with it- please. These combs are useless.”

 

She had rarely seen him ever… look so tired.

 

Any thoughts of… of romance in the moment died a quiet and sad death. 

 

“Of course.”

 

It took a moment to arrange themselves on the beds, Momo sitting behind Izuku, her legs framing his waist as he slouched back, letting her tug and work through his curly mass with a freshly made brush with stiff bristles and a series of small clips. Across from them, Kyouka was sitting cross legged, hair disheveled as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders and the privacy barrier on behind her back up.

 

Momo glanced over Izuku’s hair, the damp mass of curls and tangled edges a bit more dastardly this close and personal. With a nod, she began, going layer by layer as she began to organize his locks. As each section of hair was straightened out and brushed through it was tucked aside using bobby pins..

 

As she worked, Izuku spoke softly, Kyouka chiming in only occasionally as he recounted his previous day- and some of the previous week.

 

Miruko and the revelation he had been chosen to prepare her for Stain- as well as refine his own skills.

The growing suspicion that Iida was going to do something stupid- and the moment he realized he was right.

 

The hunt for Iida and Stain- and then the split. Kyouka staying to watch for medical help with a wounded Native and Iida- and Izuku hunting a serial killer through the alleys- only to run into the League of Villains?

 

And then- Izuku paused his retelling, hands tensed around the sheathed sword across from his lap. 

 

Then Shigaraki told him to play the game.

 

A dozen monsters in the city. Mass murder. For nothing more than publicity. Izuku’s shift of mindset- slipping into a lethal state as he slayed monster after monster- joined by Miruko and Kyouka. Finding dead heroes, and chasing lead after lead- Kyouka finding herself in command merely because she was already doing something. 

 

Momo’s hands shook slightly. But she kept brushing, staying quiet as her friends unloaded their stress. As they vented about the injustice…. The fear. The anger.

 

Miruko getting injured- and Izuku’s realization as the blue flames rose in the distance.

 

The real attack. Stain going after Endeavor.

 

Izuku got quiet there, even through his robe Momo could feel the tension. They way his spine curled with a touch of… something disquieting.

 

“I wanted to kill him… I could have. He was open… and I hesitated. I took his arm- yes. But he’s never gonna let this go. Just like Shigaraki. Another loose end….”

 

She felt as his body shook with the stress. As he breathed and let out a rattling sigh, before he spoke again. Voice toneless… removed from the fear and desperation that Momo felt so powerfully in her own heart. Kyouka pulled her blanket tighter about her in response to it.

 

The final monster. Beyond anything a Nomu had shown so far. Massive. Cunning. Adaptive. Using its quirks in new and unique ways.

 

Izuku spoke of how he killed it. How he knew it was another monster- another fusion of innocent corpses and malevolent science. 

 

And how he swore- that when it looked at him it was with recognition. That somehow they taught a mindless monster to recognize- and to hate him.

 

As he trailed off, Momo put the last few twists to a braid. One of many. Izuku’s hair was pulled back, pinned in careful braids along the crown of his skull, where they came together in a simple french braid at the back. The black and green cord was hanging to the small of his back, barely past the low collar of his robes. With a thought, she crafted a small glass to tie it off with, the quirk-crafted jade simple and with a silver pin through it. 

 

She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling him tense before relaxing. With a small glance up to Kyouka for courage, she slowly leaned forwards and wrapped her hands around him, hugging him back against her stomach, his head leaning back as she met the question in his gaze.

 

“I’m glad you survived it, Izuku.”

 

For a long moment, the young man felt tense- before all but melting into her embrace, going limp against her.

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

She didn’t need him to.

 

Then

The last of the Typhon fell, Izuku’s shotgun held steady looking for a fake out- and the green emblem on the doors flickers before turning red.

 

“Door’s sealed again. Good work Midoriya.”

 

“Glad I got here in time. Aaron, you okay?”

 

The pale ex-prisoner leaned around the bar with a look of relief. “They ain’t killed me yet kid. This is what… the third rush we’ve had. First time was just a few phantoms. But we’ve been holding tight. Any luck with your hunts?”

 

For a moment, the idea of lying came to mind- but no. “Found part of the station’s master key, Morgan’s half. I still need to track down Alex-”

 

“ Hey, hate to interrupt but, guys? Come over here!”

 

Danielle’s voice came from the security room’s speakers, and Aaron and Izuku headed there, circling to the side door and heading through, finding the technical specialist at the security console, navigating through the station communications systems.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Instead of responding to Aaron’s question, she tapped at the console and a new screen opened- the station’s secured broadcast system opening- and a voice echoing from the console.

 

On the screen was the ID S. Elazar. A profile image of a tense dark-skinned woman staring at the camera.

 

“-about time Sam.”

 

“Chief, I’m not a comm’s tech. I’m doing the best I can.”

 

“Mika, This is security chief Elazar, can you hear me?”

 

“Sarah? Yes, I can hear you.”

 

“I’ve been trying to patch into the PA. My teams in the Cargo Bay, and those… things are in here too. They’re crawling all over the station, Check everything around you, hit it with a wrench-”

 

“Check the Wrench first.”

 

“Sam- No. He’s right. These things? Smash every freestanding thing and see if it comes back to you. Get to a secure area, and when you’re safe call me via transcribe. I’m sending you a secure contact link, all right?”

 

“Understood. Left my transcribe in coolant monitoring, I’ll head there now and lock myself in.”

 

As the recorded conversation cut off, Izuku was already moving to the other console. “Danielle, can you connect to the PA system in Cargo? Or to Elazar’s transcribe?”

 

The technician nodded, and started tapping away. “I don’t have my old transcribe- but-”

 

Izuku grinned and dug into his suit, pulling out a bundle of transcribes. “I got yours. This one, I think.”

 

She paused, looking confused. “Where did you-?”

 

Izuku’s expression cut her off.

 

“Right. Scavenging. Good idea.”

 

Aaron was clearly not sure what was going on, but as Izuku glanced back, he was content sitting in the chair behind the desk with his shotgun over his lap and body slumped, exhausted.

 

Izuku glanced at the clock even as he kept typing, and winced. He had been shocked nearly four hours ago, and Danielle must have only gotten here in the last twenty minutes. And aside from passing out on the operating table, Izuku had been up for nearly fourteen hours so far.

 

Speaking of time passing… While he waited for the employee registry to load- including the tracking data of every transcribe on board- he tapped his own transcribe to check his neuro-stability.

 

Neurological Integrity: 91.22% 

 

Neuromod Stability: High.

 

Good. He should be able to integrate Artistry before he heads out. He had part of the master override already- Morgan’s half… which, as he considered it, likely meant that Morgan the ‘character’ would be coming back into play shortly. He needed Alex’s half- but that would depend on the man himself coming into play, and his instincts and half-remembered feelings told him that it was some time away. But Elazar- he remembered bits of interacting with her.

 

Advice on handling the shotgun, a few memories where he had her voice file. Or, in one case, her actual transcribe… which didn’t bode well for the security head’s survival.

 

He would need to check for signs. Possibly in the Neuromod Division, if his memories were correct.

 

But for now-

 

“Hello, Cargo bay. Can you hear me, this is Danielle Sho, currently in the atrium security office. Can you hear me?”

 

“What- Sho? What the hell are you doing-”

 

Izuku took over. “This is Midoriya Izuku… Subject Prime. I have established the atrium as a secured location. Technician Sho recently found your PA recordings, and we just achieved contact. Please, confirm status so we can regroup and support each other. The Typhon infestation means anyone by themselves is at risk.”

 

“Midoriya, I thought you were still on lockdown in the Neuromod-”

 

“There was a breach. Aside from my Isolation Cell, I believe nearly every other researcher is MIA or KIA.”

 

“Shit. We’re currently locked in here. The door controls out into the G.U.T.S. are fried, and the rest of Cargo- and the elevator out- are swarming. We’ve got a day or two's worth of food- but we have nowhere near enough ammo to stage a break out. And without a recycler or fabricator we can’t even get more supplies.”

 

Izuku glanced back towards the central atrium. “We’ve got the elevator in the lobby right now. Give me half an hour. I’ll try to bypass your position. In the meantime, stay safe and be smart. If I can't get there with the lift, we’ll see what other options we have.”

 

“ Understood. We'll stay in contact… But can you do me a favor? Mikhaila, the chief systems administrator, was supposed to hole up in the powerplant, but I haven’t heard from her.”

 

“I heard the message. Even if I can’t get to you soon, I’ll try and head her way.”

“ Head- no. I remember your tests… You’ve recovered some of your Neuromods, haven't you? The training.”

 

Izuku paused, but spoke calmly, even as his mind raced. “A good portion of them.”

 

‘She knows about my experiments… at least enough to recognize that i’m regaining memories and training in some form… head of security- how much was she read in on Morgan and Alex’s plans? It sounds almost like she’s been left out to die, but who knows… mind games within mind games. I hate this.’

 

“Understood. I trust you’ll do what you see fit. I’m going to secure our location the best I can- talk to you soon.”

 

“Good luck, Elezar.”

 

“You too, Midoriya.”

 

As the line went dead, Izuku leaned forwards and let out an exhale, fully aware of Aaron and Danielle’s eyes on his back.

 

“I need to visit medical before I go anywhere else. Walk and talk to me, people. What have I missed?”

 

Now

Shoto paused at the door. His right arm was bound again, held in a sling across his chest. The loose hospital top was left hanging from his shoulders, a poor imitation of a cape attempting to give him at least some warmth.

 

Burnin had wanted to join him, to keep an eye on him. Instead, he had asked her to go gather any paperwork or news on his father for his return.

 

With a slow breath, he reached up and knocked on the door with his left hand.

 

The soft voices he had heard through the door paused, and then without warning the door swung open smoothly.

 

Midoriya was facing him, clad in similar hospital garbs as the teen. But once again, the contrast was there. Tight wrappings and layers hung close to Midoriya’s frame, matched by the way his hair was braided back from his face, only a few strands hanging from his temple. It was a sharp counter to how the loose outer layers hung from Shoto’s frame, and his hair which hung limp.

‘As always… We seem to be a study in contrast.’

 

As he met dark green with his own gaze, he took in the fading bruises across Midoriya’s own face.

 

After a long moment, Midoriya gave him a nod. “Todoroki.”

 

“Midoriya. I have come to offer my thanks. May I enter?”

 

The green teen gave another slow look, before nodding and stepping back. As Todoroki passed through the door, his eyes adapting to the half lit room, he took in the hand that Midoriya had held behind the door, and the knife pressed to his arm.

 

‘Armed even at rest. In a place of supposed safety.’

 

Todoroki took the forms of Yaoyorozu and Jirou, both sitting together, blankets over their lap as they looked on in curiosity.

 

For a moment, he felt… distinctly self-conscious, having an audience.

 

But no. He came here for a reason. He would follow through.

 

He stepped a bit further, eyeballing distances- and slowly bowed to Midoriya, ignoring as the other teen froze.

 

“Midoriya. If not for your quick response, I would have died in the plaza. And if not I, then my father and his sidekicks would have surely died. Either from the Hero-Killer’s efforts, or the creatures unleashed alongside him.”

 

For a long moment he held his bow, eyes nearly closed, only the sight of Midoriya’s socked feet in view.

 

Then Midoriya gave a sigh. “Stand up, Todoroki. Your call gave me critical information.” 

 

Wincing slightly as he felt something pull, Shoto returned to standing straight, taking in Midoriya with crossed arms.

 

“What else.”

 

‘Ah… of course he noticed.’

 

“...Train me.” The words were… hard. Not the act, he knew Midoriya had lessons he could learn. But even as he was saying it-

 

-Ice, stained pink with blood, streaks of darker color leaching from the ground upwards through what should be pure white-

 

- reminded him of the plaza.

 

“Please train me to kill monsters.”

 

Midoriya stood there, face inscrutable, his gaze piercing and unwavering, the sensation of pressure- so familiar after facing Stain, filling the air.

 

“I can’t teach you.” 

Shoto flinched- but Midoriya continued.

“I don’t have an Emitter Quirk. And you need to master yours. Weapons would break in your hands. You have an ingrained combat style already that goes counter to mine. You don’t have the time for me to teach you. And it wouldn’t fit…”

 

The teen trailed off, eyes still focused on Shoto’s.

“...But I know who can. I’ll ask. You’ll hate it.”

 

Shoto gritted his teeth, nails of his right hand- hidden away, biting into his palm with the effort of keeping cool.

 

“...I’ll do anything. Not to be as weak as I felt yesterday.”

 

Midoriya’s presence… shifted.

 

It felt… not pitying. 

 

Empathetic.

 

“I’m sorry. But you will.”

 

Shoto opened his mouth, but Midoriya’s hand clasped on his shoulder- making Shoto realize he was shaking.

 

“Listen to me, Todoroki Shoto.” The eyes were close, drawing him in. Memetic. Hypnotic.

“The world is cruel , it’s unrelenting. There are true monsters who hide in the night. People whose ethics and morals are toxic. Yesterday you found yourself facing the results of one, and a man whose beliefs are chipped and twisted. And it's terrifying right?”

Shoto’s knees were on the cool tile, his body shaking, but Midoriya was kneeling with him, steadying him.

 

“I… I almost died. Everyone almost died- the creatures killed so many- and then Kido died, and I thought Burnin, and- and dad-”

 

Shoto hadn’t called Endeavor anything but Father in… in so long.

 

“ You survived.” the words were… Piercing. Something about them ringing through Shoto like sunlight in the dark. “In the face of the worst the world holds- you stood up and fought. And that is hard, Shoto Todoroki. It is the kind of thing that breaks men and women. You went down, but stood back up. I heard the stories, you know. I listened to the sitrep from the first responders. You held one monster back, and then stood to take another after nearly killing yourself. And in the midst of that- you planned. You contacted me, gave me all the information I needed to respond in time.”

 

The shaking… slowed. And as Shoto’s breath caught, his cheeks burned not just with heat- but flushed with long suppressed emotion. With terror . Panic . Fear. Tears were dripping down to his chin, but he felt no desire to wipe them away.

 

“But… What do I do from here? What do any of us do?”

 

Izuku gave a grin, but it was a mirthless, grave thing.

 

“What you’ve already started to do. You sit down, take a breath, and then you get better. And next time, because there is always a next time- you do better. You act faster. Smarter. You learn new tricks, new trades. Shore up your weakness, support your strengths, develop your talents. UA is a school. Use it.” 

 

Green eyes turned from him, leaving Shoto feeling raw and unprotected, his normal calm mien so far from reach. “That goes for you two too. Kyouka, you did great. Next time you’ll do better. Momo- you’re already learning useful stuff. Get it down so next time this happens, you’ll be ready to back us up.” 

 

‘Next time… he’s already thinking of next time. Of the future. Of the next fight- the next monster… I really did you a disservice in how I viewed you Midoriya… But thank you.’

 

“Thank you, Midoriya.”

 

“Of course.”

 

And that was when the door got kicked open.

Notes:

Oof- it's been a minute hasn't it. I got hit by the AO3 authors curse like an Isekai victim by Truck-kun. In no particular order-
I had to move apartments- almost singlehandedly- and haven't finished unpacking yet.
Got fired by my old job- on the day I planned to quit- so they could avoid paying me out my severance.
Had to deal with a hot as fuck summer and some chronic sleep issues.
Finally got a new job as a cook- which I enjoy- only to be promoted in under 5 weeks because apparently being a linecook for 7+ years and being experienced makes someone 'Reliable'.
Oh- and during all of this, it's a voting year! And then the election happened.
(Related to that: Please, Be safe during this trying time! lean on your friends and help your community if you can. Even the small things like offering a couch to a friend or covering food or gas costs can be so very important.)

Anyway, things have slowly started to settle once more- so I'm working on finishing up all the requests from the donothon back in may. It's slow going and I'm sorry for that, but bear with me. I'm getting it done bit by bit.

Notes:

Comment's, Kudo's, or Fanart is always welcome! Or come visit me on my Tumblr (http://roguedruid.tumblr.com)! or come chat with me on my discord!

I also have a Twitch where you can come see me lose my mind while writing or playing games, and a Twitter, that I might use at some point. Who knows. Both of them are @RogueDruidWords So come check them out.

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