"EVERY SINGLE J-STORE IN THE NATION WAS TURNED TO DUST! THERE ARE 14,000 J-STORES IN JAPAN! HOW IN THE FUCK WAS TOMURA SHIGARAKI IN 14,000 PLACES AT ONCE?!"
Needless to say, Detective Tsukauchi was not having a great day, and neither were his frazzled coworkers that he was screaming at.
"Tsukauchi, you have to calm down-" Sansa tried to reason, but he was swiftly cut off by the hysterical detective.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! THEY WERE IN THE HEART OF SHINAGAWA WARD! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FOREIGN EMBASSIES WERE WITHIN A 5 BLOCK RADIUS OF J-STORE'S HEADQUARTERS?! TOMURA SHIGARAKI COULD HAVE COMMITTED INTERNATIONAL TERROR ON 10 DIFFERENT NATIONS AT ONCE!"
Sansa was rendered speechless at the revelation. Sure, what Shigaraki and the League of Anti-Villains had done was bad on a fantastically nuts scale, but the absurdity of wiping an entire chain of convenience stores off the map in a single morning had distracted him from the insidious underbelly of the deed. He hadn't truly considered the sheer magnitude of their actions and what message it sent about their positively frightening capabilities…
"…Oh," Sansa muttered. "That's… that's really bad…"
"NO FUCKING SHIT!" Tsukauchi shouted, then he forcefully got a grip and started doing some breathing exercises to calm his racing heart. "I need to make a call."
Pulling out his phone and dialing the number at the top of his contacts, he didn't even have to wait three seconds for an answer.
"All Might… YES, DUMBASS, I'VE SEEN THE NEWS! GET YOUR ASS DOWN TO THE STATION RIGHT NOW!"
Within the basement of a nightclub that was popular among heteromorphs, four people with heavy mutations sat dumbstruck on a couch in front of a TV. Every single news station was covering the developing situation stemming from the terrorist attack on J-Store's headquarters in Shinagawa, meanwhile one other was standing behind the couch and playing a re-upload of the stream that accompanied it.
"Holy shit…" the blonde man with the fox mutation uttered. "Those are the guys that iced the CRC, right?"
"Yeah, that's them," the large crocodilian, Titan, answered. "The League of Anti-Villains. Same logo."
"Interesting…" the blonde fox replied, paying close attention to the coverage of the destruction wrought by the League. An entire office building was brought down, and the death toll was in the triple digits. This was nothing short of a statement.
"What are you thinking, big bro?" the other holder of a fox mutation, Mirage, asked, leaning over the couch to hear just what her brother was cooking up.
"Let's keep an eye on 'em for now," he responded, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Namely, the gecko."
"You thinking about poaching him from them?" smoothly asked the man with green scales blanketing his bald head that signified his snake mutation, the same man that paralyzed and stabbed Manual in the alley.
"Depends," he hummed. "They might be useful. We all want to see society held accountable, but we might have different end goals. Nothing says we have to be enemies necessarily."
"Not to mention, if what he said is true, he's the one that killed All For One," Titan spoke up, and the blonde fox-man nodded.
"Too bad we can't recover his body," he lamented with a chuckle before turning to a man sitting on the other edge of the couch with his hood up. "Imagine if we had the Boogeyman himself as our puppet with your quirk."
The man in question grunted under his hood that hid the thick, dark grey fur covering him from head to toe, as his bright, hauntingly red eyes fell back onto the TV screen from their leader. The blonde fox chuckled again, very used to their resident Hellhound's moody demeanor by now.
"The LoAV just positioned themselves as the guys to take out, whether they realize it or not," he spoke, leaning back into the couch. "It'll leave us a little more room to raise hell and get our own message out there while the fuzz is throwing everything they can at the new-look League. After all, Fukkō can't fall behind. Our mutant renaissance ain't waiting for anyone."
"Our mutant renaissance is already under way," a voice said from the stairs leading to the exit of the basement. The five turned and saw their sixth member walking down the stairs with her ruby red lips fixed in a satisfied smile. Half of her blonde hair was shaved with the other half falling over her right side, partially covering two of her four eyes.
"Weaver, I hope you come bearing good news," he greeted with a grin.
"I do," she nodded. "The latest batch of Zoo Trigger is on the streets for a test run. Mutants only, just like you requested."
"Fantastic. Now, all we have to do is sit back, watch, and capitalize on the chaos."
"We are the League of Anti-Villains, and we will save Japan from itself."
"Well, this is most interesting," Re-Destro murmured as the video of the newly rebranded League of Anti-Villains ended. Turning to the live news broadcast with an aerial view of the destruction unfolding, he couldn't help but smile.
"Such magnificent liberation on display," Re-Destro complimented. "It appears that taking the bodies and institutions with power to task for the wrongs they commit is their goal. It's difficult to say how far our interests align, but perhaps this is a good sign…"
Re-Destro leaned back in his seat with his fingers steepled. They were making excellent progress with the reproduction of the Meta Booster from David Shield's design, so it was unlikely that they would necessarily need to ally with this new League of Anti-Villains, but this event did potentially rule them out of the pool of explicit enemies. Perhaps they could even be swayed to the cause. All For One's demise eliminated the need to have Kusari infiltrate their ranks again, so sitting back and observing their activities for the time being was the best option.
He could make a decision on whether to recruit or eliminate them after they've made enough noise.
Garaki was employing every breathing exercise in the book to keep himself from blowing a gasket at what he was seeing. The nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall of that traitorous whelp to besmirch the name of their generous Lord and then tread all over it like an untrained dog! The League of Anti-Villains… what kind of repugnant garbage is occupying the brain of that failed experiment?
Whatever the case, the boy's stunt was admittedly interesting; not the act of eliminating a convenience store chain, of course, but the way in which they accomplished it. They no doubt weaponized Bubaigawara's quirk to produce thousands of copies of themselves to attack every store at once while the real ones eliminated the headquarters. That sort of power and coordination was dangerous, much too dangerous to be in the hands of a belligerent, ungrateful child.
He needed to be put down, and soon.
Garaki turned to the shirtless man sitting within a partial cryochamber. Stepping forward and unlocking the chamber, he opened it and was smacked by a wave of chilled air. "Dabi, it is time to rebuild!"
Dabi slowly lifted his head and set his derisive gaze on the short doctor. He didn't say anything, but Garaki knew he was listening.
"The enhancements I bestowed upon you should make it so that burning yourself to a crisp through overuse of your quirk is an impossibility," he explained. "You have been befitted with a regenerative quirk that will work in tandem with the dormant quirk factor within you that I was able to activate. Think of it as instant cryotherapy whenever you utilize your Blueflame."
Dabi merely grunted and got up from the bench within the chamber, walking right past Garaki and towards his shirt and coat.
"I know you were paying attention to the traitor's newest exploits," Garaki continued. "Our Lord's dreams cannot come to fruition with just the two of us and the Nomu, unfortunately. We need a competent roster and expendable bodies."
'Whatever, old man…' Dabi internally scoffed. He was getting as much as he could out of him for the soul purpose of wasting his bastard of a father and his golden child before sinking society into the pits of hell. He didn't give a rat's ass about All For One, and he knew that Garaki knew that, too.
"I get to name the new group," Dabi said after putting on his shirt and coat.
Garaki rolled his eyes under his goggles. "Do whatever you wish; just find quality help. I know a few places where you can begin looking."
La Brava's jaw had taken up residence on the desk. She always had a sinking suspicion that her old forum pal, 5FingerDeathTouch, was actually Tomura Shigaraki of the League of Villains. Well, formerly of the League of Villains, as he had just now introduced the League of Anti-Villains with his inconceivable attack. Destroying every single J-Store in the country as well as their headquarters for their corrupt practices and murdering tons of people all the while was… definitely something.
That wasn't what had her attention, though. Hell, if it weren't for all of the indiscriminate murder, their mission statement was definitely something that La Brava could get on board with. No, the reason her jaw was almost unhinged was because Tomura had specifically name-dropped her darling Gentle in his livestream manifesto, the crack about his viewership notwithstanding. Anything the League of Anti-Villains did (especially beyond this point) was going to do massive numbers, and even a casual shoutout from Tomura that straight up said that they were inspired by Gentle's dastardly deed at a J-Store was bound to send tons of traffic to their way.
And send traffic their way, it did…
"GENTLE, GET IN HERE!"
"The League of Anti-Villains has officially received an S-rank designation. All of their members are to be captured or killed on sight. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. You still have your primary mission: learn everything there is to know about Izuku Midoriya. Send some of his classmates work-study offers if necessary, then bleed them of as much information about him as you can. I want to know his strengths, weaknesses, and anything that can be exploited. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Dismissed."
As Hawks left her office, Madame President uncharacteristically sighed. Tomura Shigaraki had somehow become even more dangerous than his master in a matter of a month. A villain that can not only collapse an entire building full of people with a single touch, but also has allies that can allow him to be in upwards of tens of thousands of places in the nation at once? He could very well collapse Japanese society in only an afternoon if he so chose. He needed to be killed immediately, regardless of his group's stated mission statement. It was for this reason that in addition to the League of Anti-Villains earning an S-rank designation, Shigaraki himself would receive a SS-rank, the only person to receive once since All For One. The only other person in Japan that could receive one would be All Might should he ever turn villain.
"This is the worst act of terror the nation has seen since Jeda," she commented to the empty room.
It was difficult to forget the day a mob of countryfolk came together and lynched an entire neighborhood's worth of mutants. Sure, they were all prosecuted, but the damage had already been done. Resentment amongst mutants against standard humans had been quietly simmering nationwide in the decades since. The League of Anti-Villains slaughtering an anti-mutant cult and terrorist organization before publicly declaring war against the status quo would only turn up the heat under that pot. Another threat to the current order was afoot.
Perhaps it was time to unveil the Paragon Initiative, after all…
"Okay, starting today, we'll resume our regular classes and training schedule," Aizawa said to his assembled homeroom students. "I know a lot has happened recently, however, you need to switch gears and focus on your schoolwork. We're lecturing today, but this semester, you'll have even harsher training than before."
"Excuse me, sir?" Tsu raised her hand by and spoke. "What was Principal Nezu talking about earlier at the assembly? I've never heard of hero work-studies before."
"He said they're something the upperclassmen participate in, correct?" Yaoyorozu followed up for clarification.
"That was something I planned on talking about more at a later date," Aizawa groaned. "But, I suppose doing it now is more logical. To put it simply, it's work outside of class, like the hero internships you all did after the sports festival, just closer to the real thing."
"Wait, then why did we work so hard at the sports festival if the people who weren't scouted had available career paths anyway?" Ochako asked.
"Networking," Aizawa replied simply. "Those who were scouted by agencies at the sports festival will have an easier time lining up a work-study than those who weren't. It's purely discretionary, so no one is obligated to secure one, but with provisional licenses, you're able to assist in actual hero work in real ways, far more than you could've in your internships."
Aizawa's gaze became stern and landed on Izuku, Shoto, and Iida. "At least for most of you."
Iida had the decency to look shameful, but Izuku and Shoto predictably remained completely stone-faced. It wasn't like either of them would ever apologize for their stunt in Hosu, and Aizawa already knew that, so it wasn't worth lingering on.
"Anyway," Aizawa sighed, "until now, there haven't been many first-years to receive their provisional licenses. With the increased activity of villains, we're looking into the possibility of allowing you all to try for work-studies, as well. We'll explain the work-study position and what all that entails at a later date, but for now, we have other thi-"
Aizawa was interrupted when a cannonball slammed through one of the windows of the classroom and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop in front of the podium. A brief moment of déjà vu struck Izuku, Shoto, and Iida, then it grew even stronger when the cannonball unrolled and revealed herself to the stunned class.
"Hiroshima's very own badass bunny has arrived!" Mirko announced to the flabbergasted room before turning her feral grin toward her intended target. "Little Green! Up and at 'em, we got a meeting with Nezu!"
Izuku snapped out of the stupor shared amongst the room at being addressed, and he dumbly blinked. "Uh, what?"
In the blink of an eye, Mirko was beside Izuku and snatching him by the collar of his blazer. "You heard me! No time to waste!"
"What do you think you're doing with my student?" Aizawa glared with his eyes glowing red and his hair standing straight up.
"He's my intern now, and we have business," Mirko replied, her grin not faltering for a nanosecond.
"He has class to attend," Aizawa insisted, gathering his capture scarf in preparation.
"Not today," she snickered and jumped out of the room through the other window just in time to avoid Aizawa's capture scarf that accosted and bound the empty desk.
"Goddamnit," Aizawa groaned in such pure exhaustion that his class didn't think even he was capable of exhibiting.
The silence among the rest of the room persisted as they slowly came to terms with what had just happened. Present Mic, who had been waiting outside for Aizawa to finish up so that he could start class, poked his head into the room to see what the fuss was about, and he saw two broken windows and a positively done Shota Aizawa.
"Uh, do I even want to ask?" Present Mic tentatively probed at the befuddled class.
"No," was all his best friend said as he walked past him and down the hall to the teacher's lounge to sleep his developing migraine away.
"How the hell does Midoriya already have a work-study?" Kaminari bemoaned.
Nezu sipped his tea as he read over the document in his paws. Hitoshi Shinso was making stellar progress in his training according to reports from Aizawa and the gym staff that have been working with him since the sports festival, particularly over the summer. It seemed that Izuku's blunt assessment of him and his crushing defeat at the hands of Bakugo lit a fire within him, and Nezu was very pleased to see it bearing fruit.
There was a vacant seat in 1-A that wasn't likely to be filled anytime soon (assuming the search for Aoyama would turn up something positive, which was less and less likely as the days went on, but they could still hold out hope). Perhaps he could include Shinso in the hero course's future training sessions.
On the subject of the hero course, Melissa Shield would certainly become an interesting case. She was a third-year support student that now possessed All Might's legacy, meaning she was more or less obligated to join the hero course. She wanted to, though, so that wouldn't be the issue. The real fly in the ointment would be catching her up on three years of hero training in only two semesters. All Might would be there to assist, certainly, but it was still a conundrum that would require a bit more thought to resolve. For now, perhaps it would be best for her to participate in Foundational Heroics classes with 1-A, as well.
Then, he took a look at his watch and smiled, and within moments, a tan, leporine cannonball smashed through the window of his office and landed in front of his desk. Mirko popped up with a flourish before setting Izuku down and pulling up a chair.
"Ah, Izuku, Ms. Usagiyama, I'm glad you could make it," Nezu greeted with a smile, completely brushing off the broken window both figuratively and literally.
Izuku shook the debris out of his hair and sent a mild glare to the two pro heroes. "You couldn't have just called me up to the office the normal way?"
"Well, that wouldn't have been nearly as fun, would it?" Nezu retorted. "Besides, I knew it was the mode of transportation that would annoy Aizawa the most."
"Fair enough," Izuku conceded, then he took a seat. "I'm guessing I'm the only one that's out of the loop as to what this meeting will entail."
"For the most part," Nezu confirmed. "Mirko and I have been discussing the terms of your work-study with her."
Izuku blinked in surprise. "We just learned about those today, though."
"And I saw no reason to wait, so I went ahead and fast-tracked you after your licensed status became official. I correctly assumed that Mirko would be on board after your battle at the exam."
"And now, you're stuck with me," Mirko added with a mildly threatening grin.
"…Okay, I'm down for this," Izuku agreed after a moment's thought, then he took a long look at his mentor. "What's the ulterior motive behind this?"
Nezu smiled and produced another cup of tea. "Tell me, what do you think it is?"
Placing a hand on his chin, Izuku quietly pondered the possibilities surrounding Nezu's chaotic machinations. Mirko went to speak, but Nezu held up a paw to stop her and simply motioned for her to allow him to think. Reluctantly, she acquiesced and watched her new intern work out the scheme based on everything he knew about Nezu and the current situation they were all in.
Then, Izuku's gaze returned to the principal, his emerald eyes glimmering with understanding. "With all of the buzz currently surrounding Mirko and I, us being seen together publicly and doing bombastic things will only fan the flames and boost both of our popularity even more, furthering the 'Mirko to #1' agenda into a wildfire that not even the Commission could put out."
Nezu could not contain the proud cackling that erupted from within. Mirko, meanwhile, was caught off guard by the almost verbatim assessment of Nezu's plan.
"Damn," she remarked with a whistle. "You weren't lying; he is good."
"Learned from the best," Izuku chuckled.
"That you did," Nezu agreed, then he reached into his desk and retrieved a few documents. "As soon as we finalize the paperwork, you may begin your work-study as soon as you please."
That was all Mirko needed to hear, and she was about ready to grab Izuku by the collar once more and immediately take him on patrol with her, but Nezu cut her off before she could.
"Not during Izuku's school hours, Mirko," Nezu asserted.
"Ugh, fine," she huffed, leaning back into her chair with her arms folded. "We start after your school day ends tomorrow. I wanna see how well you can keep up."
Izuku smirked. "Challenge accepted."
Melissa collapsed to the ground of the empty gym in a heap. Another brutal training session with One For All had finished up, and she could barely feel her limbs. That was good, though, as it meant her limbs weren't shattered again.
"Excellent work today, Melissa," Toshinori in his skinny form complimented as he approached her with a bottle of water.
"You're getting better, whippersnapper," Gran Torino agreed. "At this rate, pretty soon, you'll even be able to lay a finger on me."
Melissa groaned as she accepted the offered beverage. Uncle Might had called in a favor from his old teacher to assist him in training her, as he, admittedly, wasn't the best at this. Wielding One For All came naturally to him, but the power stockpile was now exponentially greater than when he received it. His ceiling was technically her floor, and she already wasn't physically capable of handling even a small fraction of the quirk's power as it was. Luckily, her suit would be able to mitigate a lot of that backlash, but she still needed to be able to handle 5% of it in general.
And that wasn't even to mention the quirks of all of the vestiges…
"Something on your mind, Melissa?" Toshinori asked, observing that she'd been staring at her water bottle in thought for a good bit.
"Oh, um…" Melissa stumbled, unaware that she had spaced out again. "I'm just thinking about how I'm ever going to handle the full power of One For All."
Her gaze lowered to her open palm. "Especially with everything I learned recently from the vestiges… will I even be able to get a handle on the power stockpile, let alone so many different quirks alongside it?"
"One step at a time, kid," Gran Torino assured. "Nana didn't get a hang of it immediately, either, and One For All had a whole lot less power when she had it. You just worry about safely channeling it throughout your entire body without blowing up for right now."
Toshinori nodded in agreement. He was still somewhat reeling from all that Melissa shared with him about the secrets she learned from the previous wielders. He had never had any contact with them aside from seeing vague specters in a dream once, and he certainly never felt their quirks awaken within him. It opened up a whole new dimension to Melissa's potential, or perhaps six new dimensions.
"In any event, rest up for today," Gran Torino continued. "We'll be back at it again tomorrow, and we'll be trying for channeling even more of the power little by little."
Melissa nodded, and she got back to her feet with All Might's assistance. "Thank you for the help, Gran Torino. You, too, Uncle Might."
"Don't mention it," Gran Torino waved off. "If I wasn't here, who knows what kind of moronic mess this numbskull would be filling your noggin with."
Toshinori hacked up a glob of blood at the jab, and Melissa, to his horror, laughed in agreement.
"He told me to clench my butt cheeks and yell 'SMASH!' from the bottom of my gut," she revealed, bringing another stream of blood out of the man's mouth.
"And that is exactly why I'm here," Gran Torino shook his head.
For the past few weeks, the Shie Hassaikai compound had been in utter disarray. When Overhaul had left with the remnants of the Eight Bullets and his two closest advisors, everyone assumed that they would be back later that night, probably with stories about murdering and subjugating another criminal enterprise for the prosperity of the clan. Then, Overhaul returned without any of the people he took with him, and he was so furious that anyone who got in his way was swiftly reduced to mulch with extreme prejudice. Then, he left to hunt down Eri who had escaped under their watch, and he never came back, either.
Word on the street was that he was killed in a fight with the League of Villains, but that didn't make too much sense since he was meeting the League of Villains initially, and he was the only one to come back from that meeting. Maybe Eri rewound him out of existence? It didn't really matter, honestly. The fact of the matter was that Overhaul, Chronostasis, Mimic, and all of the Eight Bullets were dead.
So, where did that leave everyone else? Well, many took the opportunity to flee and leave the Yakuza life behind. Others, however, didn't have anything to go back to, so they stuck around and tried to keep the organization afloat, but that was much easier said than done. They had a great trigger racket going under Overhaul, and with such a sudden shakeup that saw the inmates running the asylum with none of the expertise, connections, and power that Overhaul had, that lucrative trigger racket quickly tanked and fell behind the activities of other organizations.
Then, there were the people who saw the instability as an opportunity to seize power for themselves. Several guys tried to muscle their way through the ranks and assert dominance over the others, but they were always met with resistance from the people trying to maintain order or others trying to take power for themselves. It didn't take very long for everything to dissolve into chaos; a bunch of people hightailed it and formed their own little groups, others cliqued up within the compound and formed factions led by the guys who wanted to hold things together, and the few people trying to take total control were duking it out amongst each other. It was fucking Lord of the Flies in the Shie Hassaikai these days.
The remnants of the clan were crowded in a large room surrounding one such power skirmish that was getting good. It was a three-way free-for-all that looked like it was anyone's fight to win until the door to the room was kicked open, snapping everyone's attention away from the fight. In stepped a man with a head of black hair topping his horribly scarred visage that many people among the crowd immediately recognized.
"Holy shit, that's Dabi," one of the men muttered with unease clearly plastered across his face.
"The hell is that psycho doing here?" another asked in developing fear.
Dabi, of course, did not acknowledge the insult, nor did he acknowledge the palpable dread building within the room. Everyone had heard of his destructive rampage after Endeavor's press conference, and no one wanted to end up as ashes like the poor saps who were unlucky enough to cross paths with him in that span. Instead, Dabi surveyed the crowd until his turquoise gaze eventually landed on the hapless fools tangled in the center of the group.
"Who's in charge here?" Dabi asked, making a few of the men jump out of their skin, and the crowd parted, creating a direct lane to the three men fighting for control of the clan.
The three men in question that were tangled on the floor looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Dabi and pointing at each other. "He is."
Dabi's deadpan stare was the only thing that greeted them in response for several silent, awkward seconds. Before any of them could add anything, however, Dabi raised his hand and unleashed a viciously powerful stream of blue fire directly at the three, burning them to cinders before they even knew what hit them. When he killed the flames, he didn't notice any of the usual burning that plagued him whenever he used his quirk. Instead, he could faintly feel frost blanketing his palm and soothing the heat.
'The doc wasn't lying,' he internally mused. The cryotherapy he managed to finesse together really was instantaneous. That wasn't all, either; the regeneration quirk he was gifted was slowly healing and rebuilding the decade's worth of scar tissue all over his body. It was really fucking itchy, but that was a small price to pay.
"Congratulations, you all are now under new management," Dabi dryly announced to the stunned crowd. "From this moment on, the Shie Hassaikai will be a subsidiary of a brand new criminal enterprise. Any objections?"
The crowd immediately shook their heads in the negative, and Dabi smirked. "Good. Shie Hassaikai, welcome to The Vanguard."
The next morning, 1-A was still abuzz with chatter about the previous day's events. The League of Anti-Villains was on everyone's minds for one reason or another. Most of them were stuck discussing the sheer enormity of the attack they committed; en entire convenience store chain being wiped off the map was newsworthy on its own, but coupling it with the destruction of an entire office building full of innocent (and some not so innocent) employees caused a social media firestorm. Everyone was talking about the League of Anti-Villains.
Well, almost everyone. It was also yesterday that Iida had learned of Manual's brutal murder while on patrol. The grisly, inhuman manner in which he was killed struck him deep, and he was violently launched into flashbacks of learning of his brother's attack at the hands of Stain…
This time, however, he was able to keep a tight lid on his emotions and maintain an unflappable façade as to not worry any of his friends, particularly the more astute ones, such as Midoriya and Todoroki. He would not have a repeat of Hosu, but he still needed to sort out some things. He needed to learn more about what happened. The only lead was, "Fukkō is coming," scrawled on the wall in Manual's blood; he would make damn sure to get to the bottom of this and deliver whoever perpetrated that vile, sickening act to justice… however that manifested.
Strangely enough, sitting right in front of Iida was someone who was also racked with uncomfortable thoughts: Tsuyu Asui. She was thinking about the League of Anti-Villains like many of her classmates, but her thoughts rested among one particular aspect of their activities: the attack on bigotry.
Tsu was no stranger to the concept of quirkism. She was used to receiving strange looks and second glances at times, and she had pretty thick skin, so it didn't really bother her much. With that in mind, she was still very much aware of where she sat in the uncanny valley and why she got those glances in the first place. Her father wasn't shy about sharing his experiences of growing up in a pretty quirkist area. In fact, considering what Jeda was known for, simply calling it "pretty quirkist" wasn't doing the depth of it justice. She was just glad that he and her grandparents moved away to Nagoya before 6/6 happened.
So, it was unsurprisingly a shock when one of the more well-known perpetrators of quirkism against heteromorphs, the Creature Rejection Clan, was outright slaughtered in their compound, and it was an even greater shock when Tomura Shigaraki and the League of Anti-Villains turned out to be the ones responsible for it. The same Tomura Shigaraki that attacked them at the USJ, kidnapped one of her best friends, and eliminated a convenience store for selling expired pudding had blatantly called for bigots and quirkists to be taken to task and held accountable (among many others).
She truly did not know how to feel about that. Unbeknownst to her, those same thoughts were bouncing around Shoji's brain halfway across the classroom, as well. Shoji had firsthand experience with how insidious prejudice against heteromorphs could be; what laid beneath his mask would forever serve as a constant reminder.
All chatter ceased when Aizawa entered the classroom, and their attention was now fixed onto him.
"Morning," he lazily greeted as he got to the podium. "As promised, we'll go into more detail about what the work-studies entail."
Aizawa then turned his head to the door. "Go ahead and come in."
The door slid open once more, and three older students strutted into the room… well, one of them strutted, one of them almost bounced with contained excitement, and one of them sulked.
"I'll have people who've experienced them firsthand explain," Aizawa continued as the class got a good look at the new arrivals. "I suggest you listen carefully as they point out how work studies differ from internships. Listen to what they have to say; they rank at the top of the student body. You may know them as the Big Three."
Recognition bloomed in the eyes of the class; it was hard to forget the guy who got naked during last year's sports festival.
"Briefly introduce yourselves and tell them a little about your experiences," Aizawa instructed to the three. "We'll start with Amajiki."
…Needless to say, introductions did not go well. Tamaki Amajiki could not face that many people for the life of him, Nejire Hado forewent introducing herself to launch a barrage of questions at the flabbergasted class, and Mirio Togata completely whiffed the icebreaker with a joke that not only didn't land, it crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.
So, what was Mirio's brilliant solution to the brewing awkwardness of the meeting? Why, it was an 18-on-1 fight to showcase the difference between a group of talented first-years to an experienced third-year, of course.
And that was precisely how two-thirds of 1-A found themselves writhing in pain on the concrete of Gym Gamma before a stark naked third-year. Said third-year was smiling brilliantly at his Hydrogen Bomb vs. Coughing Baby matchup, then he turned his attention to the remaining students.
"I gotta say, you guys are really good," Mirio complimented the roughed up Bakugo, Shoto, Kirishima, Iida, and Ochako. "I wish Midoriya could've fought alongside you guys; that would've been super fun!"
Bakugo gritted his teeth at the reminder that their class rep hadn't joined them. "Why the hell is he sitting on the sidelines?!"
"Midoriya's already beaten a top pro," Aizawa answered, the boy in question standing beside him with an orange shield on his arm for Nejire to curiously (and excitedly) poke. "He's got nothing to prove here."
"Do you really have to say it like that…" Izuku bemoaned in embarrassment.
"Yes, problem child," he replied. He was clearly still annoyed by Mirko's stunt the morning prior.
That annoyed Bakugo even more. No one is going to fucking leave him behind if he had a damn thing to say about it.
"Icy-Hot," Bakugo growled. "How quickly can you cool the air around us?"
Shoto blinked. "How cold do you need it?"
"Cold enough for a smaller repeat of the sports festival," Bakugo answered, and Shoto nodded.
"Maybe a minute," he responded.
"Good," Bakugo nodded and turned to Ochako. "Round Face, remember that meteor shower you pulled against the nerd at the sports festival? Do that again, but bigger. There should be more than enough debris for you to work with."
Ochako nodded and ducked low to the ground, palming as many loose chunks of ice and concrete kicked up by Bakugo's explosions as she could.
"Shitty Hair, Lightning McQueen, we'll keep him busy and distracted," Bakugo finished, earning nods from Kirishima and Iida.
Meanwhile, Mirio grinned at the group inching closer together in preparation for their next attack. He couldn't hear what they were muttering, but he was glad to see some coordination. "Finally coming at me with a plan? I can't wait to see it!"
"Shut it, TinTin!" Bakugo shouted before blasting off toward him with Iida and Kirishima in tow.
Mirio's smile sharpened, and he raced to meet their charge, phasing through their attacks like he'd been doing before bypassing them entirely in favor of taking out Shoto, opting to attack the two who were staying back first to eliminate whatever plan they were cooking up. Shoto was ready, spawning a jagged ice wall between them that he knew wouldn't halt Mirio in the slightest, but it would expedite the release of cold air into the gym. Instead, his left arm went up in a blaze to flash and momentarily deter Mirio from attacking after he had phased through.
That moment was all Shoto needed to jump back and create some space, and it was all Iida needed to zoom to their location to run interference. Of course, once Mirio got his bearings straight, he batted Iida out of the way and returned to his pursuit of Shoto, but Kirishima had surprised him by leaping onto his back and tackling him to the ground. Mirio easily shook him and tried to respond with a hard punch to Kirishima's gut when the redhead made it back to his feet, but Kirishima had prepared by hardening his abdomen as much as he could, practically forming a stone shield on his gut for Mirio to hit with his bare hand. Unsurprisingly, a greater jolt of pain than Mirio was expecting shot up his arm and momentarily stunned him.
"Uraraka!" Kirishima signaled as he took the opportunity afforded to him to grab onto Mirio and hold him in place.
"Release!" Ochako shouted, sending a storm of stone, concrete, and unmelted chunks of ice raining down onto the two students.
"Now, Bakugo!" Shoto alerted, having filled the room with a sufficient amount of cold air.
Bakugo quickly shot a glance toward Izuku, and Izuku picked up on whatever explosive nonsense Bakugo was planning. In a flash, the rest of Izuku's body joined his arm in burning a bright orange, and a large, orange wall shot out and shielded himself and his downed classmates from what was to come. At the same time, Bakugo had launched himself into the fray once more, unleashing a Cluster with a series of small, powerful explosions that quickly heated up the chilled air and caused it to rapidly expand. One final explosion was the ignition of the powder keg, creating a large explosion that slammed into the barrier and rocked the building.
"Damnit, Bakugo," Aizawa groaned as the vibrations calmed down.
When Izuku brought the barrier down, it was revealed that Shoto had erected an ice wall to shield himself and Ochako while Kirishima hardened his arms beyond even he thought he was capable of to protect himself and Iida from the blast. He didn't have much time to ponder that development, though.
"Holy smokes, you almost got me!" Mirio exclaimed as he popped up from underground with a beaming smile, shocking everyone in the gym with the exception of Nejire, Tamaki, and Aizawa. "If I hadn't gone underground in the nick of time, I would've been toast. That was awesome!"
Shoto and Bakugo were speechless. While not nearly as big of an explosion as the one from the sports festival, it still packed quite a punch… and Mirio just casually avoided it.
"GODDAMNIT-" Bakugo started to rage until he was cut off by a hard punch to the diaphragm. Four quick punches later, and the remaining combatants were down for the count with Mirio standing over them victoriously.
"I certainly wasn't expecting that," Izuku remarked in shock.
"Mirio's worked really hard to get to where he is," Tamaki muttered. "No one aside from you stood a chance from the beginning."
"There's a reason that Togata's got the best chance of being the next number one hero, pros included," Aizawa agreed, then he eyed Izuku in his periphery. "You're not exactly aiming for that, anyway."
Izuku shook his head in confirmation. "Nah, it's lonely at the top."
"I tried to make it so that you wouldn't see my willy," Mirio said to the beaten class after he put his PE uniform back on. "Sorry if you got a peak. But anyway, that's a taste of what it's like to fight me."
"We all just got pummeled without ever knowing what was going on…" Mineta wined, and most of the class agreed with that assessment.
What followed was a sort of QnA that led to Mirio explaining how his quirk functioned, then dispelling the budding thoughts that his quirk being super powerful was what gave him the advantage. The truth was that his quirk was an inconvenient mess at the best of times that required years of hard work and training to wield in any halfway useful capacity, let alone the proficiency he held today. A lot of that progress came from practical experience out on the field, which was a roundabout way of showing them just what to expect from a work-study. The name of the game was turning experience into power.
The message had gotten across swimmingly, and most of the class was both impressed and thankful enough to give Mirio a standing ovation after his speech. One phrase in particular resonated with Izuku, Bakugo, and Shoto, however:
'Turning experience into power…' the three pondered.
"Holy shit, is that Mirko?!"
"Who is she with?"
"Are you blind? That's Izuku fucking Midoriya!"
"Ugh, I'd definitely have his babies."
"Woman, you're 43."
Izuku almost stumbled over his own feet upon hearing that, and Mirko snorted from beside him as they made their way down the street.
"First rule of going on a public patrol, learn to tune out idle chatter about you on the sidewalk," Mirko lectured. "You're bound to hear some shit you'll regret if you don't. Trust me."
"Right…" Izuku muttered. "Why are we walking around instead of bounding from building to building like you usually do?"
"Higher chance of catching wind of a crime to stop, disaster to resolve, or a villain to stomp out this way," she responded. "If you're just hopping around from building to building, you'll only see anything that's impossible to miss, and you won't hear any cries for help."
"But isn't your hearing fantastic?" Izuku challenged. "You could probably hear them regardless of where you are."
"Your puny, human ears don't have that luxury," she noted with a smirk, and Izuku nodded, conceding the point. "If you're so insistent, though, we can go for the typical trek through the city. Just keep up."
With that, she leaped high into the air and landed on the nearest building, then took off westward to a chorus of cheers from the public. Izuku shrugged and followed suit, blasting off like a colorful rocket in pursuit. He quickly caught up with Mirko and playfully started to edge past her, which she took personally and amped up her own pace to retake the lead. Soon, the two were like blurs racing across the rooftops at top speed (doing as much as they could to limit the damage done upon each landing), and even Hawks, who so conveniently happened to be in the area, did a double take upon seeing the speed at which they bounded past him.
Their impromptu race was paused when Mirko's ear twitched, and she stopped on a dime, Izuku doing the same shortly thereafter. She walked to the edge of the roof they stood on and looked down, and her suspicions were confirmed.
"Kid," she beckoned, not taking her eyes off the scene.
When he made it to the ledge beside her, Izuku looked down at the alley below and saw a man with a ferret mutation pointing a gun at two others and moving around erratically.
"Watch and learn," Mirko said and prepared to drop down to resolve it, but Izuku grabbed her arm.
"No, let me," Izuku insisted, Mirio Togata's earlier words still ringing in his mind. "I'll make you proud."
Mirko considered the idea for a moment before shrugging and stepping aside. "I'll be right behind you in case things devolve."
Izuku nodded, and with an adjustment of his scarf, he dropped down into the alley.
Minutes Earlier…
"I can't believe every single J-Store is gone," said one short teenage boy with bright pink skin, a white button-down shirt, and indigo shorts.
"Why J-Store, though?" bemoaned another, taller teen with bright yellow skin, an orange hoodie, and black pants. "They had the best instant ramen!"
"Is that what you're worried about?" the shorter teen quirked an eyebrow. "Not the hundreds of lives lost? Just the ramen?"
"Yes!"
The conversation halted, however, when the two teens encountered a skinny, jittery man standing in the middle of the alley muttering to no one in sight. He had a ferret mutation, but his light brown fur was dirty and unkempt, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Ordinarily, the two would just keep their eyes forward and continue walking, but he was standing in the middle of their path, so interacting with him was pretty much unavoidable. With that in mind, the shorter of the two decided to see if there was anything he could help the clearly distressed man with.
"Hello, sir, why the long face?" he asked as kindly as he could.
The ferret-man turned to them, surprised at their sudden appearance, but calmed down and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Um, yeah, I'm kinda like, uh, freakin' pissed off, man."
The way he jolted and spazzed with every other word took the two teens aback, but the man continued when he pulled out his phone. "I always wanted to be a SoundCloud artist, man."
What he proceeded to play for them might have been the worst piece of music that either of them had ever had the misfortune of hearing, but they maintained their attempt to be kind and didn't voice these thoughts.
"But, uh, no one wants to, uh, you know, listen to my freakin'… uh, my shit and stuff, man," the man finally managed to get out. "It makes me angry, man."
"Oh, well, I don't mind it," the short, pink boy tried to encourage him. "You just need to keep working hard at it, and you'll definitely find an audience. Practice makes perfect!"
"Hey, I just remembered," the man slurred with narrowed eyes, scratching his arm. "You two little critters told me that it would, um, just be easier if I quit making music, and, um, gave the freak up and stuff, man."
"Erm, no, we've never spoken to you, sir," the pink boy responded in confusion.
"No, no, I met you two, man," the man insisted. "I freakin' met you two; you're Grim, and you're Gnarly and stuff, man."
At this point, both teens were perplexed at where the situation was going and knew that they had never met the man before in their lives. The taller, yellow teen spoke up next with something he thought my placate the addled man before them.
"I think I see what's going on," the boy began. "Those are just two guys who look like us-"
"Man, shut up, man!" the agitated ferret-man commanded, shutting his eyes and clutching his head. "You're trying to trick me and put smoke into my freakin' head and shit, man."
"Not at all, man," the yellow teen tried to reason, but that was a mistake, as the man grew even more agitated.
"Man, I don't know what to think no more, man!" he shouted, pulling out a gun and waving it around. "I don't know what to freakin' think no more!"
At this point, the situation had completely broken down, and the two teens were scared shitless. The erratic man now had a gun, and none of their attempts at talking him down or rationalizing with him were working. All he was saying was,
"Get out of my head! Get out of my head, man! Get out of my head, man! GET OUT OF MY HEAD-"
In that instant, when it looked as though he was going to shoot them, a purple tendril wrapped around the barrel of the gun and yanked it out of his hands just before Izuku landed behind him and chopped him in the back of the neck, knocking him out for the moment. He caught the man in his left arm as he fell forward, and he sent a look of concern to the two teens.
"Are you guys okay?" he asked, and the two teens nearly soiled themselves in relief.
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," the smaller teen frantically muttered, and Izuku quickly stepped forward and wrapped him in a thin barrier. He wasn't sure it would help, but it soothed Eri whenever she was having an anxiety fit, so it was worth a shot.
"That was way too intense," the taller teen said as the shorter one tried to steady his breathing. "Thank you so much, mister…"
Then, his eyes lit up in recognition as he finally got a good look at Izuku. "Wait, I know who you are! Izuku Midoriya!"
That snapped the smaller teen out of his shock, and he looked up at Izuku with stars in his eyes. "Oh my fucking shit, you just saved us! You were so awesome in the sports festival and against Mirko! I can't believe you're really here in front of us!"
Izuku had absolutely no idea what to do with himself in the face of genuine praise from complete strangers that were either the same age or possibly even older than he was. He could feel his body heating up as he blushed in embarrassment, and with that heat came a groan from the man in his arms.
"What are you even doing out here?" the yellow teen asked him.
"What's your hero name?" asked the pink teen.
"It's Beacon, and I'm on work-study with Mirko," Izuku answered, and that only made them even more starstruck.
"Holy shit, Mirko's here, too?!" the yellow teen exclaimed. "She's so fucking ho-"
"Guys, why don't you two go on ahead," Izuku insisted as he felt the man begin to squirm. "I'll handle things with him here."
Almost as if they had been reminded that they were literally just at gunpoint, the two teens nodded and dutifully vacated the alley. Izuku sighed, refocusing on the apprehended man. He'd go out on a limb and say that he was an addict of some kind judging from his appearance and erratic behavior.
"Hey, man, you calmed down?" Izuku asked, and he received a few disjointed groans in return.
"I can't go back, man," he muttered. "I can't go back to jail, man; they'll kill me, man…"
"What do you mean?" Izuku asked, setting him down in a sitting position against the wall and kneeling in front of him. "Who's gonna hurt you?"
"Everyone, man; they'll kill me, they'll freaking torture me again, man. I can't go back, man! I won't go back, man!"
"Hey, hey, calm down, I'm right here," Izuku tried to ease the frantic addict back under control, but he smacked Izuku's hand away and reached into his pocket.
Wary of another gun, Izuku quickly flashed purple and wrapped him in vines, binding his arms to his side and trapping his hand in his pocket. Fortunately, it wasn't a gun he was reaching for. Unfortunately, it wasn't a gun he was reaching for, rather a vial of zoo trigger.
"I'm not freaking going back!" he shouted as he stabbed his thigh with the vial through his pants and injected himself with the trigger. Within moments, his pupils dilated, his mouth began to froth, and he started convulsing. As Izuku tried to get closer to inspect his sudden fits and Mirko dropped down to help, the man ballooned in size and snapped out of the tendrils that were binding him. Standing before Izuku and Mirko was no longer a high-strung and possibly paranoid schizophrenic, but a monstrous, drooling creature with muscles for days and claws that were sharp enough to shred concrete (as the claw marks in the ground made clear).
"What the fuck?" Izuku and Mirko simultaneously reacted.
With a screech, the transformed man bolted out of the alley and onto the busy street, immediately wrecking havoc on the unsuspecting populous. Izuku and Mirko sprang into action, which only resulted in Izuku smashing through a storefront after getting smacked by the rampaging man's tale. Quickly shaking it off, the first thing he noticed was the man catapult a car out of the way in an attempt to escape Mirko's vicious onslaught.
Time damn near slowed down for Izuku as he flashed yellow and covered the distance between himself and the car's projected landing spot, and then he burned a deep green and caught the descending vehicle in his hands. The force of the car pushed Izuku back and dug his heels into the asphalt, but he would not falter for a second and kept the car from hitting neither the ground, nor the people directly behind him. With a sigh, he gingerly set the car to the ground, then he checked on the driver that was uncontrollably freaking out.
Luckily, they didn't appear to be injured, just shaken up, and the people he prevented the car from whacking were doing much the same, so he lit up in a fiery rainbow and dashed toward the ongoing battle. Said battle comprised of Mirko pelting the rampaging man with crushing blow upon blow that only seemed to make him even angrier with each strike. Izuku shot several tendrils at a street light behind the beast that wrapped themselves around it, and he used them to bungee himself from his spot right into the man with a hard dropkick to the face. With the man stunned, Mirko swooped in with a stiff kick to his abdomen to knock him even further off kilter. Finally, Izuku rushed in with a burning, green haymaker and clocked the man in the jaw, sending him down for the count with a loud thud.
"Holy hell," Izuku exhaled, only semi-conscious of the roaring crowd surrounding them. His attention was finally brought back to the situation when Mirko slapped a proud hand onto his shoulder.
"Nice job, Normal Green," Mirko complimented. "Good execution with disarming him and deescalating the situation back there. You couldn't have expected him to go berserk like that, but be mindful of that possibility in the future. You never know what people will have under their sleeves."
"Got it," Izuku nodded, scribbling in his notebook that he procured from hammerspace until Mirko smacked it out of his hands. "What happened to him, anyway? Was it trigger?"
"Gotta be," Mirko surmised. "It's like the instant villains from a few years back, only worse."
"Instant villains?" Izuku asked.
"I'll tell you more about it later," Mirko waved off. "Now is your first lesson in dealing with the press."
"Wait, what-" Izuku started to say before Mirko pushed him into the hands of the approaching reporter.
"Izuku Midoriya! Chie Nakamura from Juko News! Care for a quick interview?"
Izuku quickly composed himself with the camera and microphone in his face, then he flashed the woman a bright smile. "Sure, and I go by Beacon when I'm in the suit."
Nakamura returned his smile. "Well, Beacon, after this spectacularly heroic display alongside Mirko, the world wants to know: how are you so strong?"
Izuku placed a hand on his chin, and he took a long moment to really consider the question. Nakamura leaned in, the building anticipation getting the better of her as well as the camera man. Then, when the suspense was at its greatest, Izuku finally spoke:
"All Might and Endeavor went out drinking one night, and I was the result."
The reporter, cameraman, and surrounding crowd, were all struck silent at the response. The completely and utterly serious manner in which he answered tripped every single person present out. Well, everyone except for Mirko, who doubled over in hysterical laughter that very quickly trickled into the rest of the present crowd until the tension was sufficiently smashed.
"You heard it here first, folks!" Nakamura said to the camera. "The rumors are confirmed! Endeavor is, in fact, a bottom!"
The door to the dark, seedy watering hole opened, and the even seedier patrons inside turned their gazes to the new arrival. Immediately, most of them averted their gaze, just as Dabi expected they would. He surveyed the room and found his target, or rather targets, sitting at the end of the bar. One of them was casually smoking a cigarette through the gap in his teeth, while the other was quietly babysitting a glass of bourbon. He idly noticed two other people lingering near the second man, but he wasn't here for them.
"Giran," Dabi addressed as he approached the info broker and sat in the open seat beside him, producing a wad of cash.
"Dabi, it's good to see ya," Giran chuckled, taking his payment. "Haven't had a lot of contact with you guys lately after the business in Kamino. Shigaraki went off the deep end. Hell, so did you for a little bit."
"I'm no longer with the League," Dabi said as the bartender slid him a glass of whiskey on Giran's dime. "Got other affairs in the works."
"I figured," Giran shrugged. "Things change so quickly, don't they?"
He took another puff of his cigarette before standing up to leave. "Well, as promised, I got the guy you've been looking for."
"Thanks," Dabi said before switching targets to the man in question. He had a familiar curtain of red hair hanging over his violet eyes, and his red leather jacket confirmed him to be exactly who Dabi wanted to see.
"Kusari," Dabi addressed, eying him and the two people standing almost protectively beside him carefully. "It's been a while."
"I was surprised when Giran told me that someone else wanted to see me during our business today," Kusari spoke.
"They your business?" Dabi inquired, motioning to the two beside him with a nudge of his head.
"Possibly," Kusari noncommittally responded. "Why are we here?"
"You've been MIA," Dabi replied, wanting to probe a little bit more info out of him before unveiling his own cards.
Kusari, however, immediately recognized the fishing attempt and smirked. "I've been busy. From the look of things, so have you."
Kusari didn't bite, so Dabi elected to try a new tact. "Right. MLA business, huh?"
From the way the two standing beside him tensed up, Dabi knew he hit the nail on the head. Kusari remained as cool as a cucumber, though, only sending Dabi a quirked eyebrow as a prompt for him to explain.
"The old doctor already knew about you," Dabi did so. "All For One probably did, too."
Kusari hummed and idly swirled his drink in his hand. "That doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is seeing you serving All For One postmortem. I didn't take you for a willing patsy if even Tomura Shigaraki struck it on his own."
"I don't serve anyone," Dabi grunted. "The doc's just an easy means to an end."
"Isn't everyone?" Kusari chuckled.
"You seem to know better than most. I never doubted for a second that you didn't have ulterior motives for joining the League. At least now I've confirmed it."
"This conversation is nice and all, but it doesn't answer why we're here."
"I'm starting a band," Dabi facetiously declared. "Wanted to know if you'd play the drums."
Kusari audibly laughed this time, then he took another sip of his drink. "Interesting proposal, but I'll have to decline. I have quite a bit on my plate recently. The liberation of Japan is drawing nearer and nearer every day."
"So I hear," Dabi muttered. "A lot of people on the dregs is society these days are flocking to your cause. Well, the ones who aren't mutants are, anyway. Must have a lot of foot soldiers at your disposal."
"What are you asking for?" Kusari cut to the heart of it.
"How about those two?" Dabi pointed to the two standing beside the bar, and they tensed again. The woman of the duo scowled, and her long, crimson hair raised and sharpened into 8 massive blades ready to strike. Likewise, the burgundy bandages draping the grey-haired man beside her from head to toe began to levitate off of his arms in preparation to abscond any large object in the vicinity to create an army of puppets.
"Down, you two," Kusari lazily intervened, and he turned back to Dabi. "Sorry, but they're off limits. They're freshly liberated. However, I'll see if I can set you up with a few expendables. No one too valuable, but competent enough to serve your needs until they're obsolete. I'm assuming you already have a few more recruitment plans in place to secure some heavies."
Dabi chuckled at having been read like a book so quickly. "I always knew you were more dangerous than you let on."
"You have to be to survive this cruel world," Kusari lamented, then he got up from the bar. "I'll let Giran know when I have some candidates for you. Slice, Mummy, let's go. I want to introduce you two to our Grand Commander personally."
As Dabi watched the three leave, he caught a glimpse of a hooded blonde staring at him in his periphery. He turned his head and locked eyes with him, hateful turquoise meeting an assessing cerulean. The two maintained their intense stare-off for 15 uninterrupted seconds before Dabi slid his his empty glass across the counter and finally got up to leave. On the way out, Dabi shot a small flame at the other man as he passed by his table, setting fire to the alcohol he was about to consume and setting the edge of his sleeve alight, as well.
The hooded man sighed, and a toxic, red miasma developed over his newly clawed hand. The red aura seemed to literally pick up the insanely hot, blue flame on his arm and slide off of him entirely, taking the fire with it and leaving his arm mostly unharmed. Any damage that was done by the fire to his hand was quickly healed, and his hand was back in perfect condition while the flame on the table was smothered by the red cloak of energy.
Underneath the hood, the blonde fox-man smirked. If his ears didn't deceive him, it seemed that Dabi was entering the race to the top, too. That was an interesting development, one that paired rather nicely with the news he was seeing of the spikes in abnormally violent cases of trigger use, particularly among animal-type heteromorphs. All it took was one opinionated news outlet to slip in some quirkist rhetoric about mutants, and that soundbite and sentiment would spread like wildfire. Everything was going to plan.
Fukkō would capitalize, but there was also the LoAV, the MLA in hiding, and whatever Dabi was trying to slap together. So many different players, and only one spot at the top. It was definitely gonna be fun.