1
Signs
He shifted back very, very slowly, minimizing his movements and making no sound as much as possible. He covered his mouth when he breathed, knowing that these things were very sensitive to sound. His thoughts were cut short again, when decomposing hands began making its way out of the dumpster, along with a head that had been half severed from the neck down. With this new development, there was a good chance that the hunters would spot this walking corpse and he would eventually, follow.
He was majestically fucked, and it was now or never.
See the end of the chapter for A/N.
He gripped his rifle tightly as he hid behind a corner, taking in as much air his lungs could accommodate. He had been running non-stop, and how he wished he could blast off the hunters that had been trailing him. He missed the days when he would use his explosions to his heart's content, may it be during sparring with that damn nerd or that half and half bastard—if he could only…but then there was not much of a choice but to push back that wishful thinking to the inner corners of his mind. It irritated him, not being able to use his quirk, as it would only give away his location and send in more reinforcements. He couldn't risk it—no, not a chance. It would not only compromise the mission but doing so may as well risk exposing their hideout.
His senses heightened the moment he heard footsteps, scurrying from different directions. It was definitely time to leave, unless he planned on ending up as one of the next few guinea pigs they would bleed dry. He realized though, that as much as how hard he made peace talks with lady luck, she seemed to be a bitch and never stuck up on his side. He was trapped, in an alley, with no way out. His brain must've been fried from all that running and exchange of bullets, that his feet developed minds of their own and started taking him to places he would never even consider a hiding spot.
And he was running low on ammo.
Great, fucking great. He screams internally as he ducks behind a dumpster, head slowly rising up with just enough field of view his eyes could behold.
There were two on the street just adjacent to where he was, and another four inspecting the corner from where he was. He could outrun them, given that they wouldn't inspect the alley where he was in. Maybe. Or he could wait until they were far enough from where he was, and he could make a run for it.
He chose the latter.
It seemed like a good choice until he heard what seemed to be shuffling and gluttal croaking coming from the dumpster.
Goddammit!
Of all the times to encounter these fuckers, it had to be this moment, when the odds weren't at his favor.
He shifted back very, very slowly, minimizing his movements and making no sound as much as possible. He covered his mouth when he breathed, knowing that these things were very sensitive to sound. It amazed him really, that when they were alive, they used to be ordinary humans, quirkless or with a quirk of their own, but not really specific as to possessing a hearing ability like that of his classmate headphone jack girl. They had somewhat relied to sound, and sight became a secondary receptor for them. His thoughts were cut short again, when decomposing hands began making its way out of the dumpster, along with a head that had been half severed from the neck down. With this new development, there was a good chance that the hunters would spot this walking corpse and he would eventually, follow.
He was majestically fucked, and it was now or never.
Lifting his rifle slowly, he made a dash out of the dead end he was in, not really caring if they would see him. He let his feet carry the rest of his fate, as gunshots began to shower him from every side, the sound of his own footsteps muffling out the sound of gunshots. And besides, getting bit was the last thing on his mind.
It had been sudden, almost like a gust of wind passing by, or a flash of light—gone before the eye could register the actual moment it occurred. It started out like any other normal day in UA—in the country.
They were discussing about rescue procedures during heroics class on that fateful day, when an announcement from the school's broadcasting system was made, prompting everyone to gather to the main hall. They didn't really treat it as an emergency of some sort, or atleast some of them, who didn't give a hoot, like the Bakusquad, whilst Midoriya and his flock were all heads up.
They will never forget that very moment Nezu stepped into the stage, without his usual smile, his fur disheveled—and delivered the grim news.
An outbreak.
It was one of the things they would see on the movies, on TV, on videogames that they would play whenever they would pass by arcades. Only this time, shit's real.
Nezu began breaking things down, eventually turning on a massive screen with a live report being flashed. The scene looked like something indeed from a movie, where everyone was running about, even the reporter and the camera man. Then it came to the part where there was a man who was slouching and suddenly jumped in front of the camera before a scream was heard and everything went black for a brief period before the channel was back to the news center. There were several people wearing white coats explaining that signs and symptoms included a loss of control, bleeding from the orifices, rigidity and uncontrollable twisting and eventually, turning into one of those "things".
It was transmitted from a bite. Do not get bitten.
Murmurs filled the hall, some panicking and some crying.
Given that UA was strategically located a considerable distance from the center of the city where the news was, it would only be a matter of time before they were breached.
And their families. Outside.Before they knew it, the school was being locked down. Some tried to protest so they could go out, some just broke down on the spot where they were standing. The hall immediately turned from a calm sea to something very similar to the Bermuda Triangle.
It was a matter of time before Present Mic's voice boomed inside the hall that shattered the saturated environment the students were in, before Nezu continued delivering the news.
As of now, we are working around the clock with authorities in-charge on the evacuation to update you on your families, but we have unanimously decided that UA will be on an indefinite lock down until the situation is under control.
Under control seemed to be impossible. Impossible seemed to be an understatement.
2-A didn't take the news very well; Midoriya was in a state of shock, along with Iida. Todoroki just stood weakly, hands balled into fists that were becoming whiter by the second. Uraraka and the other girls were crying their hearts out, each trying to call their families but to no avail as cellular sites have been cut off turning their mobile phones into clocks or music players. The rest were no different.
Aizawa, All Might and the other teachers were gathered on the stage, probably thinking of ways to handle the shit pit they were in.
It was chaos. Total chaos.
Bakugou had that pinching guilt, knowing that the last time he spoke to his mom, it was the usual snarling and exchange of profanities that started out from a trivial argument over the phone. And now he can't even remember what is was that tripped Mitsuki Bakaguo's wires. He wondered if she and Masaru were evacuated to safety. But even being the ever-angry boy that he was, he still couldn't help but think of his Aunt Inko Midoriya after he sees Deku the crybaby intensify his sobs, or think of Shitty Hair Kirishima's family as well. It was becoming a little too much for him to handle; He was human after all.
There was a surge to the school's lights before the power tripped off, and a nearby explosion rocked the hall.
From that point, all hell broke loose.
He kept running, still irritated that he, of all people, had to resort to retreat when he could easily wipe them from the face of this city with one blast. They were probably low on ammunition as well, since the gunshots became less frequent than before. He could shoot them, but carrying a rifle with him meant that he had to position himself first before firing the shots. If he had a handgun, he would have solved his problem by then—but then earlier, even if it was hours ago since he last saw her, he had to give his gun to her. That was before they parted ways.
He wondered if she was able to make it back to camp.
He wondered if she was able to alert the others.
He wondered if they would even bother to look for him, after being on hot water from the rest of the class (if he still could call it that way) for days now.
Seriously, would anyone be looking for him?
It had been hours.
Shitty Hair would, probably, since he was the only one that didn't treat him like an ex-communicated dipshit since his fallout with that damn nerd.
He was too distracted with his floating thoughts when he was brought back to the ground as a searing pain grazed his right arm, making him drop his rifle.
After the sudden rush of pain came an inexplicable numbness, that partially took over the site. He panicked, knowing that once you get shot with these things, it had a tranquilizer-like effect on you. After all, they didn't want to kill the remaining quirk users they could find but capture them and extract their insides like lab rats.
He wondered how much time he had left before his whole body would give up fighting the serum that had been implanted in his arm from the bullet that shot him.
With no more rifle with him and an intricately short amount of time before he gets royally fucked, he mustered all his strength to keep on running.
It was awful, feeling like a cornered animal while on a big ass timer running out of sand. His legs gave in, almost, but he dragged them, nevertheless. At least now, he knew where he was running, though sluggish. He had them follow him to another dead end before he fell on his knees, heaving heaps of air back to his system.
He crawled on all fours—anything to get him as far as possible from them, before his back finally touched the wall.
He waited, until he could see five or six of them, all clad in black, masks on, weapons on hand.
"Not so tough now that you can't use your bombs eh?" One remarked as he clicked his gun, aiming at him.
He snarked a grin—probably the only way he could show them that even though his cards were losing, he was still Katsuki Bakugou, and that he will never, ever, submit himself without a fight, like the stubbornness of his hair resisting the grooming prowess of Best Jeanist way back during their internship.
"Stop blabbering and get him to the van, we've wasted enough time"
This is it. His last great idea.
At least now he could bring these fuckers down with him and with his current location, it was far away from their camp. He wouldn't have to worry about those extras getting captured, at least for the time being. Probably the only regret he'll have for now is not being able to complete the mission of scouting the area for the extras and the civilians they'd rescued, as failure was never a word in his dictionary. Was.
He mustered up all his nitroglycerin sweat from all that running, and focused intently on his arms, feeling his muscles contract. He didn't have his Grenade Gauntlets, so it meant that he would have to sacrifice his limbs if he intended to bring one last blow.
"Don't worry kid, this won't hurt much." One muttered softly as he aimed his loaded gun to him.
"F-fuck you." He retorted, a grin forming wildly on his dirtied face before it was pistol-whipped, the daylights almost leaving his senses.
"You always live up to your reputation, brat." One of them clearly biting the bait he laid out.
"I-it's not a bomb." Bakugou snarls, struggling while his lungs began to relax, making breathing as difficult as sparring with All Might.
"What was that?"
"My quirk's..not a bomb."
"Yeah right, like we care"
"I-it's..this!"
And with those final retorts, he pushed his body to release the biggest explosion he could, combined with his sweat to wipe them out, eventually, throwing himself off the wall too.
A sickening crunch connected his head to the cold brick wall.
He must've blacked out from the impact he caused because when he awoke, though still drugged and immobilized by that shitty serum, he saw the hunters knocked down and some burning to a crisp.
He smiled, though what could only be registered as small, small grin.
He got them, at least.
Now it's only a matter of time before "they" get him, as the sound of the explosion echoed to the whole junction.
He tried moving his arms, his legs, but they wouldn't cooperate. Apparently, he didn't know how long or how strong this shitty serum was, since all information he had was based on hearsay.
Now he gets to experience the sensation first hand.
He closed his eyes, waiting for his judgement.
A/N:
Okay, so this is my first take on writing a BNHA Fic.
Any comments, critiques, I'll accept. I want to improve on this field as this is very foreign to me.
Yeah, btw, this is a zombie-apocalypse type of plot. Ya know, just to spice things up.
I'll try to update as much as I can and as fast as I could, since I'm still hyped from all the zombie content I'm seeing on the media. (*)/