The rain came down in heavy sheets, drumming against the makeshift canvas roof of the station tent set up on the outskirts of the warehouse district. The light from the hanging lanterns cast a soft glow, their flickering reflections pooling in the rainwater that had gathered in the muddy puddles.
A low murmur of voices filled the space, punctuated by the occasional hiss of static from the police radios. The tension was thick, as though the storm outside had seeped into the atmosphere within.
Detective Tsuakauchi stood near the entrance, his trench coat soaked at the hem and his hat dripping. His usual calm demeanour was strained, his shoulders hunched under the weight of failure. Nearby, Sir Nighteye adjusted his glasses, the stern lines on his face unreadable as he studied a corkboard cluttered with pinned photographs, maps, and hastily scrawled notes.
Kamui Woods and Edgshot stood to one side, their figures silhouettes against the light, while Ryukyu sat on a folding chair, her dragon-like features subdued in her human form. All eyes turned to Tsukauchi as he cleared his throat.
"We've officially lost them," he began, his voice heavy. "The Himemiya family is gone, and with them, any direct lead we had to Soryu and getting Lyra Himemiya back."
A sound of something cracking came from Kamui Woods."They got here before us and even knew where to find the family."
"Actually, we found out that they had been here for one week already searching the entire city. You guys just arrived too late." Tsukauchi said, he didn't sound as lenient as he usually did.
"And now we're also dealing with the fallout of the people that came from those paintings." Tsukauchi confirmed.
Nighteye interjected. "Forty-six. That's how many individuals were confirmed, an entire classroom of children too. All had contact with Daigo Kiyoshi. Some of them were catatonic, and some were awake but aggressive and delirious. They have most likely been trapped for months."
"Months?" Kamui asked, his voice had raised slightly. "So he can even trap people in paintings, like prisoners, but worse, they couldn't even move."
"Exactly that." Ryukyu replied, his tone clinical. "Lyra worked under proxy for over a month before her capture. If Kiyoshi's quirk are really as intricate as we suspect, some of these people could have been trapped long before that."
Tsukauchi took over the conversation again. "We don't have an identity for all of them yet. Many are unresponsive. The one's that can speak are having trouble remembering,"
The tent fell silent, save for the patter of rain. The weight of another failure hung heavy in the air. Kamui Woods' fists clenched at his sides, the wood of his limbs groaning under the pressure.
"This feels like a losing battle." he muttered. "Every time we think we're making progress on catching Proxy, or even Soryu or any villain nowadays, they slip right through our fingers. We're always a step behind."
Nighteye straightened, adjusting his tie. "Failure is standard," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "It it the nature of our work. But failure is also a lesson. It teaches us to improve. 'A warrior who fears defeat has already lost.'"
There was a growing silence as they looked around while resting and continuously keeping count of the people that were entering and leaving the tent. Ryukyu slowly nodded,
"So what's our next move?" she asked.
Nighteye's gaze drifted back to the corkboard, landing on a photo of Soryu, youthful and dangerous. "We regroup, we analyze and we prepare. Soryu isn't just dangerous because of his quirk. He's dangerous because he has a second quirk." There were gasps in the room. "A rarity but not unheard of. And if my suspicions are correct, it's a quirk similar to mine."
"A precog?" Edgeshot asked.
Nighteye nodded and Edgeshot fired another question to him in quick succession. "And how do you know?"
"Because I still can't see anything," Nighteye replied, in a very unenthusiastic tone. "It's the Collapsed Rule. When two precogs are in proximity, their quirks interfere with each other, creating a null zone. Neither of us can see anything beyond the present. It's like the future collapse or just doesn't exist."
"Just great." Tsukauchi said, "The kid was dangerous enough already, and if he already had a second quirk like that from young and has been hiding it then there is probably nothing that anyone knows anything about it."
Kamui Woods shook his head, Nighteye looked at Edgeshot to see that he was rigid and made no movement. It only made things harder for them. Harder to capture him. His danger level was already at it's highest in the country, and it's an international level warning now just in case he decides to disappear.
"We'll come back from this." Nighteye said. "Soryu may have the advantage now. But we'll find cracks. Everyone does."
As the heroes exchanged glances, the rain outside hit harder. The search was going to be larger now, they needed plants, they needed to move things forward and set the stage. No more being behind, heroes should have never been the last one's to the scene.
___
A computer monitor was the only sound in the room as Daigo Kiyoshi leaned back in his chair. A single, sharp light illuminated his figure, casting elongated shadows across the walls cluttered with schematics, digital blueprints, and towering stacks of documents. His striking angular face betrayed no frustration, only a quiet amusement, as his golden eyes flicked over a map of Yokohama displayed on the central screen.
All his paintings were gone.
Daigo's lips curled into a smile, the kind that concealed more than it revealed. "Heroes," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, laced with mockery. "They've reclaimed them. Of course, they have. Without Lyra, I suppose I got a little careless." he rested his elbow on the chair's armrest, fingers trailing along his jawline in thought. The smile never faltered, though the glint in his eyes darkened.
Lyra's capture, was a slight inconvenience, but nothing more. She was useful, she had a strong quirk and a decent mind. He knew she wasn't loyal, she was scared and that was easier to deal with. Obedience could always be manufactured.
The Eden Project, he was taught that there, he was taught of obedience and much more. It was a bitter aftertaste that lingered in his mind. Brought together by a group of visionaries, blinded by their idealism. A wayward flock preaching unity and progress. They were dreamers trying to touch the heavens while bound to earth.
"Eden was never going to save the world." Daigo muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "But it did show me it's weakness."
He spun on his chair, his mind was already elsewhere. The key wasn't in individuals. It wasn't in cities or even nations. The key was in omnipresence, in ubiquity.
He turned to the digital wall, gesturing with an elegant flick of his wrist. Screens lit up, displaying networks, grids, and data streams. Lines of code scrolled like rivers of thought, and Daigo's gaze danced across them with near-reverence. His quirk had always been a sharp tool, but his sharpest was his mind.
"The next step of this game should be the world."
Daigo's fingers flew over a sleek keyboard, summoning a three-dimensional model of Japan. The country spun slowly before him, rendered in intricate detail. "Every household owns a television. A smartphone. A computer. Some of these devices already given by my hand, I doubt the heroes have been able to pinpoint where my sources are. I would have known that already."
Daigo knew that many of the commission would have already been figured out, so his hands there are little, but he still has many hands in the Japanese government that will be of use.
"More devices that will connect to me."
He stretched out his hands, as if to grasp the hologram itself. "A replica of Japan, yes. A perfect simulation. every city, every street, every soul will be transferred into my domain without even blinking. They'll live without limits. without death. Rebooted endlessly, free from the tyranny of time and consequences."
Daigo laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Their lives, their identities, data. And I will be their God."
The excitement coursed through him like a drug, his smile widening as he stepped back from the hologram. His plan was elegant in it's simplicity, yet monumental in scope. To achieve it, he needed more resources, networks, broadcasting stations, and most importantly, power. Power that resided in the hands of a few weak men who still owed him favours.
Daigo moved to a sleek phone on his desk, dialing a number with practiced precision. He placed the receiver to his ear, and when the line clicked, his voice turned from fervent to silky persuasion.
"Minister Hatanaka," he began, his tone honeyed and commanding. "It's been far too long. I trust you've enjoyed the gain you have gotten since my Hosu Games."
A nervous response crackled through the receiver, something about continuous donations and more, but Daigo's expression didn't waiver. He cut him off to speak. "I have a proposition. One that will secure your position in Japan's future."
His words dripped with a calculated charisma each syllable a hook designed to ensnare. "I require access. Full control of the country's broadcasting infrastructure. Think of it as... an upgrade to the system. A modernization effort. You've always been a forward thinker haven't you?"
The minister was hesitating, but Daigo pressed on. "You owe me, Hatanaka. And we both know I always collect."
As the conversation continued, Daigo's mind raced ahead, plotting his next moves with surgical precision. This was merely the first step. Soon, the pieces would fall into place, and his vision would become reality.
He ended the call, setting the receiver down with deliberate care. Turning back to the hologram of Japan, Daigo spread his arms wide, as if embracing the digital projection.
"It begins," he said softly, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "The age of immortality."
The room seemed to hum in response, the monitors flickering as if bowing to their creator. Daigo Kiyoshi, the architect of a new reality, stood alone in his domain, the weight of his obsession transforming into the power to reshape the world.
___
Anytime I stepped into the room that was given to me in the MLA building I find myself always thinking on the Eden project, the way the furniture was bolted to the floors or the way the bed was mere inches away from the pristine white walls that matched the floors and high ceilings, it all felt too familiar.
They said we could decorate, but, I was already growing too used to the empty design. I did hate the placement of the camera right outside of the rooms entrance though, it constantly reminded me that this space was not truly mine. It was just a place I now work in.
The camera's were something to mention though, none in any private rooms thankfully, but they were all created and designed by Skeptic, a leader in this organization. Not just in the building but all over Deika, he had control over all technology within the city. His cameras were subtle, tucked in corners or embedded in walls, none like the outdated and clunky ones Overhaul had which would blink red to signify when it was in use. The lenses were so small you may mistake it for a nail head. Always watching.
I was somewhat glad with the fact that the Himemiya family had been brought back together. One week ago now, just before the heroes had got to them. It wasn't a flawless execution or anything like that, but it was fine. The media had done their own part, or maybe they hadn't known of our involvement, they had lauded the heroes for recovering countless families. Good on them, erase the failures and control the narrative.
The Himemiya's was the key that Destro needed to turn Lyra, and it had worked. Too well, if I was being honest.
Lyra was... different now. She was so thankful that she didn't even have to wait for Destro to throw an offer or persuasive words at her to join the MLA, she just viewed it as paying him back, paying back the people that saved her family. Her sudden zeal was unsettling, but I understood it. She probably wasn't loyal to Destro, not yet anyway, she was loyal to the debt she feels she owes him.
The MLA had saved her family and given them a home in Deika, and in doing so, they'd chained her to their cause. Gratitude is a powerful tool. Someone in Destro's position of power would know that better than anyone.
Still, it was strange to watch her change so quickly. One moment, she was hesitant, questioning; the next, she was fully onboard, almost singing the praise of the ideology she'd barely understood less than a month ago. It was murky and I didn't trust it, I felt like Kaede, that memory girl, had something to do with it.
I picked out the USB in my pocket. Inside the tiny drive was everything on the Eden Project, things that I'm confident the Hero Commission would burn cities to keep hidden. It was just leverage to me now... okay, maybe a little more than that.
Destro is planning something. I don't need to be a mind reader to see that. The entire city was buzzing, shipments arriving in the dead of night, meetings held in hushed tones, training drills disguised as community gatherings. It was the kind of organized chaos that spoke of preparation, of a storm gathering on the horizon.
The problem was, I didn't have proof. Not yet. And without proof, the commission wouldn't listen to me. They wouldn't even look in my direction unless I dangled something undeniable in front of them.
I mean they probably did have eyes on me, but them getting to me while I'm always surrounded was probably difficult. They were probably eyeing Nagant as well but telling her about my plans would only complicate things. Speaking to her the other day about her feelings toward the commission, she was still highly volatile against them. So that wasn't a good idea.
But how could I get the proof I needed under Skeptic's ever-present surveillance? The cameras were everywhere, I've seen the feedback from their lenses too, they devour everything. Skeptics systems were so advanced it could pick up a scrap of paper from across the room, flagging even the smallest act of subterfuge. Writing notes, dropping hints—that's impossible.
My only option was to do everything slowly and steadily. Work from the bottom.
"Think outside the box," I muttered. "But don't forget who built the box."
Destro's army was massive, and his reach extensive far beyond Deika. But every machine, no matter how well-oiled, had it's cracks. And I was going to find them.
I slid the USB back into my pocket.
I was just going to sick pieces of paper listening devices on everyone I met, people within the building, random civilians too. Although for the one's in the building I had already decided it would be best to stick them on the lower ranking members first since they all know my capabilities they probably had some form of countermeasures against that.
But soon I would have whatever information I needed.
They wouldn't even see me coming.