The weeks had rolled on, and the internships were well underway for the students of Class 1-A. For most of them, this was the start of something big—a chance to finally work alongside the pros, to prove themselves as heroes in the making. But for Lucas, there was no such excitement. He wasn't an intern in any hero agency, and the concept of "mentorship" seemed far removed from his world. His training came from the shadows, from the people of the Vigilante Front, who were just as much fugitives as they were warriors.
Internships for vigilantes meant only one thing: exposure. The longer you stayed in the public eye, the greater the risk of being caught. Some had already paid the price—caught by pro heroes who didn't believe in the moral complexities of their cause. Some of the members of the Vigilante Front had been caught, forced to flee to other cities, to other safehouses. But for the most part, they were used to it. They lived with the constant fear of discovery, the unending game of hide-and-seek with the law.
Lucas had grown accustomed to this constant battle. Every day, it was a matter of balancing between what he wanted to do and what he was allowed to do. He couldn't just walk into a bank and stop a robbery, because doing so meant exposing himself, and the last thing he needed was to be on the news again. But he couldn't help himself either. The world he had lived in for so long—the world that had branded him a villain—had made him cold, made him ruthless. The only way to cope was to find solace in the chaos, to find peace in doing what was right, even if it meant doing it alone.
It wasn't a perfect life, but it was his life.
---
The Robbery
It was a cold, rainy afternoon when it happened. Lucas was on his usual patrol, moving through the quiet streets of the city in his Foxy form. His hands, once human, were now sharp, metallic claws, and his body was sleek with the predatory grace of an animatronic fox. His fur, black as the night, glistened under the dim streetlights. He prowled the alleys, ever watchful, ever alert, knowing that the world around him could turn chaotic in an instant.
As he moved through the streets, a disturbance caught his attention—a shout, followed by the sound of glass breaking. His senses immediately went into overdrive. The source was a small jewelry store at the corner. A pair of masked criminals were inside, ransacking the shelves, stuffing valuables into bags with reckless abandon.
Lucas didn't hesitate. His instincts kicked in, and before the robbers could even notice him, he was already inside the store, his claws swiping at the shelves with the grace of a predatory animal. His movements were quick, precise, and terrifying. The robbers had no idea what hit them. One of them screamed as Lucas dashed toward them, slamming one into the wall with a force that rattled the building.
"You're not getting away with this," Lucas growled in his mechanical voice, the sound low and menacing, like the growl of an animal waiting to strike. The robbers scrambled, their quirk-enhanced speed useless against the power of his form.
Within moments, the jewelry store was cleared, and the criminals were left bound on the floor, helpless.
---
Lucas took a deep breath, his mind already moving on to the next task. There was no time to linger. He couldn't afford to get caught in a situation where he might be exposed. This was only the beginning. The city was full of people in need, and he was determined to help as many as he could, no matter the risk.
But as he moved through the city, looking for his next objective, something changed. He wasn't alone anymore.
A faint sense of danger tingled at the back of his neck.
Lucas froze in the middle of an alley, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. Then he heard it—a faint rustle in the shadows behind him. He turned just in time to see a figure dart out of sight. His instincts screamed at him to move, but before he could react, three figures dropped from the rooftops in front of him.
The figures were unmistakable.
Best Jeanist.
Midoriya.
And Bakugo.
---
"Gotcha," Best Jeanist said, his voice calm yet unwavering. His hands moved expertly, his quirk activating to create the web of fibers that he controlled with precision.
Lucas snarled, his face contorting in the grotesque visage of his Nightmare Foxy form. The presence of the pro hero was enough to make him hesitate for a moment, but it wasn't fear that held him back—it was the knowledge of the battle he was about to face. The fibers lashed out, aiming to ensnare him, but Lucas was already on the move, his body quick and agile.
"I knew I'd find you eventually, Nightmare," Jeanist said, his calm demeanor betraying none of the tension in the air. "You've been causing quite a stir."
Midoriya, his eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and concern, took a step forward. But before he could say a word, Bakugo, as usual, was less patient. "Oi, nerd, get down! You're gonna get us caught at this rate!" His eyes were locked on Lucas, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable. He took a step forward, ready to fight. "We've been hunting you for weeks. Time to face the music."
Lucas's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he almost felt a sick, twisted satisfaction at the sight of them all with their matching haircuts, so identical in their eagerness to do what was "right." It was laughable.
He shifted back, his body transforming from the monstrous Foxy into something more human, more familiar, though still haunting. His nightmare form was only a thought away, and with a flick of his fingers, he could become something terrifying once more. But for now, he chose to stand still, his expression unreadable.
The moment stretched on, thick with tension.
"I'm not your villain," Lucas finally said, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "And I'm not your hero either." His eyes flicked from Midoriya to Bakugo to Best Jeanist. "You'll understand soon enough. The world isn't so black and white. And if you're waiting for me to play the hero, you're wasting your time."
A flicker of recognition passed over Midoriya's face. "You—" He was about to say something, but before he could finish, the situation escalated. Bakugo, impatient as ever, took a step forward, his quirk already flaring up.
"You think you can just walk away, you damn freak?" Bakugo shouted, his voice loud and harsh, his hands already sparking with explosive energy.
Lucas smiled, his lips twisting into something cruel and dark. "I think I've been walking away for yesrs, kid. But today?" He crouched slightly, his fingers curling into claws. "Today's a new day."
And with that, the chase began.
---
Lucas darted down the alley, his body a blur of movement, every step calculated, every motion precise. Best Jeanist's fibers followed him closely, trying to trap him, but Lucas was faster—quicker than they anticipated. Midoriya and Bakugo gave chase, their movements coordinated but not fast enough to catch him.
Lucas could hear Bakugo's furious shouts as the explosions from his palms went off behind him, narrowly missing. Midoriya's voice, laced with concern, called after him, but Lucas didn't stop. He couldn't afford to be caught.
For a moment, he allowed himself a laugh—a dark, twisted sound that echoed in the alley, causing the three to pause for just a second.
"You'll never catch me," Lucas called back, his voice laced with mirth. "Not in your world. Not with your rules."
He disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving his pursuers to reconsider the game they had started. For Lucas, there was no going back—not now, not ever. He was a force of his own, and if they wanted to stop him, they would have to do it on his terms.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt in control.