My name is Melissa Shield. I am 17-years old and a third year at I-High. My dream is to be a hero in my own way. I want to follow father's footsteps by creating support items to help heroes.

That was supposed to be my path. I was well on my way to achieving all of my dreams.

That was before everything went wrong. Before my heroes shattered before my eyes.

This was not how my life was supposed to go.

Every single, minuscule detail of the chip had to be precise.

That reality rolled around in her mind, filling every part of it as she went over her plans once again. She scanned through yet another page of calculations, her eyes weary and tempting her to lose focus. She carried on, her irises rolling left to right through the lines of numbers and words, filled with a sophistication only a trained mind could hope to comprehend.

The soft buzz of her phone in her pocket interrupted the whirring of her thoughts. In spite of herself, she blinked. With an exasperated sigh, she reached into her pocket to see what — or less likely, who — had pinged her.

With a frown, she saw it was an email from one of her instructors. She casually tapped the notification with her thumb, wishing she could be interrupted by something a little more pleasant.

"Hello class,

Since I keep getting asked this: Yes, you have an additional five days to complete your project in light of recent events.

No, I am not giving any more time than that. In the real world, deadlines don't stop because disaster strikes.

I expect great things from all of you.

-Dr. Strauss"

She groaned at the message. Another reminder of the sword dangling above her head.

Her eyes naturally rolled down to a bright, green envelope icon on her phone for text messaging. Still no notifications. Not that it would be otherwise.

With another deep breath, Melissa renewed her furious efforts to right her project. A drawing of the final design came up on her screen. A collapsible, bright red bracer, unbreakable, protecting against blows and encompassing the entire arm when drawn.

It was not what the project had originally wanted to make. But she still could not help but smile looking at it.

With a sigh, she buried herself back into her work. She did not have time to dawdle. She had a deadline and she had to make this as excellent as possible if she was going to pass.

Being alone without friends at least made getting to work at little easier.

I wanted nothing more than to help people. I decided I wanted to be someone's hero some day. Even if I was quirkless, I would find a way to make incredible things. That would have to be enough.

But I was reminded of all the things I couldn't do

The monstrosity her father had unwittingly created was unfathomable. Massive, hulking and swallowing up more and more of the place she had come to call home.

An insidious mixture of awe and terror flooded her. What could possibly stand up against something like that?.

But the odds did not seem to matter to any of the heroes around her. While she was stuck to the ground, they leapt into the fray with gusto.

She was sidelined. The security was back online. She wanted to fight with them, but she had done her part. She could do not but watch and cheer as All Might, Deku and the other U.A. students tried to save the entire island from that monster.

The cold hand of fear wrapped its tendril-like fingers around her heart as she saw them narrowly evade death over and over again. But she was kept warm by the inferno of heroic zeal around her, somewhat comforted by the power the U.A. students were able to muster.

Her heart panged when All Might — powerful, peerless, able to defeat anyone — was stopped dead in his tracks and held captive.

But she was flooded with relief when Deku leapt in to help him, the two working in tandem to take down the behemoth. She watched, awed as Deku — even though he was two years her younger — weaved through the deadly, mechanical projectiles and kept going.

She could not help them. Not much, anyway. She was quirkless, after all. But she could take some small solace in the flash of red she could see around his centre as he ran, knowing he was wearing her invention. She was helping, in her own way.

Before the world was lost in a flurry of darkness and debris, she clenched her fists as the two heroes punched their way through the villain together.

She was helping. But she wanted to do more.

My world was changing more rapidly than I could cope with. Everything was coming at me too fast. I had no powers to keep up with it.

Goodbyes were never easy. But losing the last pillars of stability in a world spinning out of control was unbearably difficult.

"Now Melissa, if you don't let me go soon, I'll start to go blue!"

She murmured unintelligibly into All Might's muscular chest. She had told him — and herself — that she could let him go. That she could look after herself. That she did not need him.

On that last point at least, she had been lying.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered, low enough so that only he could hear. She could feel the pitying stares of all the U.A. students on her, but she did not care.

"I'll come and see you as soon as I can. We won't be apart for as long this time." There was a dark tone to his whispers that startled her, the jovial hero dropping an octave, his voice foreign in her ears. He held her at arm's length; his eyes were unreadable, but his mouth formed a hard line, alien to his normally grinning visage. "I promise you, Melissa."

She could not formulate a good response to her hero changing in ways she could not comprehend. But she nodded, wiping the tears out of her eyes as she looked up at him.

"I'll do my best until then."

What more could she say?

But he smiled and laughed at her statement. It did not sound particularly genuine to her — like he was wearing an overly bright disguise to throw off the prying eyes around them. Like her father had done.

"You're a bright, strong young woman, Melissa," he stated fiercely. He looked down at her, his muscles flexing under his skin-tight suit. She was reminded of meeting him as a child. He could still be just as impossibly imposing as then. "You can get through this."

With that, he stepped aside, turning his back on her and walking away into the distance. Already, he seemed so far. A paragon she could not hope to reach.

But, she had a more pressing matter to focus on. The farewell that somehow made her heart sink even deeper into dread.

Deku stood there tepidly, his hands in the pockets of his green hoodie, his eyes stuck on the ground. He looked lost and unsure of himself, so different from the hero she had seen lead a rush up a tower to battle hardened villains.

"So…I guess this is goodbye," Deku said, his eyes turning upward to properly regard her. There was a sadness there. The fire in his gaze she had glimpsed when things were at their worst was absent.

"Guess so," she replied, his negative energy rubbing off on her. She had wracked her mind on how to approach this and found all her half-formed plans falling to pieces with the moment upon her.

But for what felt like the thousandth time, Deku surprised her.

"It was really nice meeting you, Melissa. And thank you for all the help you gave me." He gave a respectful bow, startling her. "I couldn't have done anything here without you."

He stood up again, his eyes filled with a few sparks of fiery vigour, his smile bright across his face. "You're a real hero."

The words were electric to her ears, her eyes rising open in shock. There was a warmth that surged through her at the turn of phrase.

"Melissa – WOH?!"

She let her inhibitions out in a rush as she grabbed hold of him. She buried her face into the side of his head and squeezed him tightly, unleashing a surge of emotion onto him. It was a little awkward — he went stone-stiff in her arms and she was not used to hugging people so much shorter than her – but it hardly mattered,

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. She could not properly convey in words how much his words meant to her.

"MHM!" he squeaked in response. His stillness started to concern her, so she relinquished him from her hold. His face was scrunched up and beet red, his nerves apparently getting the best of him.

She giggled slightly at his expression. His bashfulness was cute, even if it was a bit of an overreaction. She could understand him but did not personally fret about a friendly hug.

"I could say the same thing about you, Deku," she said, eager to change his focus. It seemed to work; the young hero shook his head as if warding something out of his mind. "I know you're going to be an incredible hero. You proved it on this island — even if the rest of the world didn't' get to see it."

He remained quiet, but his face relaxed, a smile blossoming on his features. "Thanks, Melissa. It means a lot."

The ice between them thoroughly broken, Melissa reached into her pocket to pull out the gift she had hoped she could successfully impart on him.

"I wanted you to have this," she stated firmly while pushing the small card in his hand. He took it gingerly, his attention quickly seized by it.

"What is..." he began, but trailed off before his eyes widened in realization.

"The business card for my workshop!" She uttered her words with practiced enthusiasm. She had to sell people on valuing these things, after all. "I just had it made and you're the first person I'm giving this too."

"…This has your phone number on it."

She blinked at the statement. "Well, it's a business card. Of course it does."

"Right. That makes sense," he said shakily, as if her number was still very much beyond his comprehension. "Why…are you giving this to me?"

"I want you to get in touch with me if you need any adjustments to your costume made," she stated fiercely, drawing his eyes back onto her. "I'm going to work really hard to make the best support items I can to help you be the best hero you can be!"

She pumped a fist a little upward, trying to mimic the same energy she saw from all of the U.A. students over the past week. She could never accomplish the incredible feats they were capable of. But she could do what she could with the same gusto and zeal they had.

"I'm going to go Plus Ultra!"

When she stared back into Izuku's eyes, she saw more of the fire she recognized from their adventure. She was touched she could help stoke those flames.

"I know you will," he stated, a powerful surety in his voice. The nervous little boy in him faded quickly. "And I'll definitely be in touch. I'm going to work as hard as I can to be ready for whatever you make next!"

"Let's shake on it, then," she proposed, letting her hand forward. She had seen her father make the gesture to new clientele countless times, but chose not to dwell on that. "To a new and fruitful partnership!"

Izuku only hesitated a moment before grabbing onto her hand firmly. The powerful strength of his grip was well disguised by his scarred hand. "To a new and fruitful partnership."

She let him go to turn back to the arms of his awaiting friends. As she turned to leave the area, she laughed at their loud exclamations from the group. One voice, who she recognized as Uraraka's, overpowered the others: "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WERE HAVING FUN DEKU!"

Her spirits were a little buoyed as she waved them off while they embarked on the plane. But her heart ached at the knowledge their presence was really gone. At least she had a new, solid link to all of her new friends at U.A.

She did not stay long enough to watch their plane take to the sky. She had a date with schematics, computers and a lot of coffee.

But as she exited the private section of the airport and caught glimpse of a nervous-looking man in a bright suit, she closed her eyes and sighed. She made no secret of her misery.

Her date would have to wait until the lawyers were done with her.

I had a goal.

I had to wear a brave face. Like All Might or Deku would, no matter the odds. I had to carve my own path and earn respect now that I was on my own. I did not want the cameras — the world — to see me vulnerable.

I would not show my grief. I would not show my shame. Not to them. Not after this.

That horrible night, I watched my hero fall. I watched my world crumble.

It was not easier the second time.

"Hang in there, okay Melissa? It'll work out in the end. And you can call me after it's over. I promise I'll be there for you."

The soft kindness of his voice was a beacon in the dark road she was about to walk. It was enough to make her lip tremble, her grief threatening to pour over the dam she had carefully constructed for the day.

She swallowed, gulping down those emotions. She took a deep breath to steady herself again.

"Thanks, Deku. I'll probably take you up on that."

"Talk to you later, then. Good luck. I'll be watching."

She wanted to keep the conversation going. Say something, anything to stall having to face the world, alone as she was.

"Bye."

She tapped her thumb to end the call and shoved the phone roughly in her pocket. She closed her eyes, her mind flashing through visions of the horrors to come. She hoped imagining what would play out would make it less impactful when it did.

She clenched her fists into her business-black skirt. She rose up off of her couch and marched outside to face the world head-on.

The worst part had to be the stares.

She could feel people's eyes boring into her from every angle as she walked through her once warm, welcoming home. That night of terror had changed this place. Fear and paranoia gripped the populous. Nobody would take safety for granted ever again.

She did not dare look toward anyone. Her eyes were only for one person today. She already knew what she would find if she looked at the crowd. Pity. Anger. Hatred.

Out of her peripheral vision, she could see people stop moving to glance at her. Telltale flashes of cameras, penetrating the early morning darkness. The loose crowd forming around her started to murmur. Journalists barked orders to camera people to move. People parted out of her way, but her path was soon filled with more flashes of light. This was it: she was live. The world was watching her.

She did not stop.

"Miss Shield, how are you feeling as you walk into the court today?"

The microphones were out, walking with her. She did not register the faces of the reporters around her. Her eyes were set on the massive structure where her father would meet his fate.

"No comment."

"Can I get a question in? Are you willing to do an interview?" Another reporter asked, needling, hoping to get a score.

"I'm not giving any interviews today."

A particularly bold one elected to leap in front of her, causing her world to be engulfed in a flash of light. She paused and blinked out the spots in her eyes, staring forward as the man peeked out from beneath the mask of his lense.

"Miss Shield, do you hate your father?"

Tabloid.

"I love my father. I hate that he was part of something like this."

She plowed through as the flurry of shutters rang around her ears. She walked quickly as the reporters trailed behind her, making it to the sanctity of the front doors and into the building, where media access was more limited.

But there was no security from the stares. The courthouse was packed with people lined up to witness her father's plea. Security guards worked quickly to scan people and get them moving through. She wondered if the courthouse even had a security gate set up before a week ago.

"People, if you are here to see David Shield, the courtroom is now full!" one guard bellowed, waving his arms from behind the gate, bringing the murmurs of the crowd to a lower pitch. "We cannot allow any more people into the building for that, so please, exit if that is your only business here. There will be a live broadcast outside."

The crowd groaned and voiced a few unpleasantries at the messenger, but started to turn around. She could feel more eyes boring into her skin as she fought against the crowd and made her way to the edge of the gate.

"Miss please — oh," the messenger guard stopped himself, leaning forward to get a better look at her as she made her way to the front. She regarded him with the same look of grim determination she had worn since leaving her home.

"I need to get through," she stated, lifting out an ID card and presenting it for the gate.

"Well….I should…" he looked at her and scratched his cheek, before turning his eyes skyward. "Yeah, I guess you probably should be there."

He scanned her identification and let her pass by. She figured even he could tell she would not be stopped today.

She made her way through the throngs of people wandering the courthouse. Lawyers, officers, citizens and alleged criminals. I-Island was once virtually devoid of crime, but the chaos of the past week had led to many more cases than usual for the courts to deal with.

There were fewer glances toward her, with people busying themselves with cases that hardly mattered. She was grateful for the reprieve, but her muscles remained tense as she walked through the halls.

Far too quickly, she was met with the looming, dark double doors to the room where her father would appear. People moved in and out of the room rapidly, keeping the doors suspended between openness and closure.

She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists. Felt her mouth furrow deeper into her face.

With one more breath, she walked forward, mask intact.

The courtroom was as packed as promised. The benches lining either side of the cramped room were filled with people, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The aisle down the middle of the room, overlaid with a dingy green carpet, also had people standing or sitting, unable to find any other space.

She found herself standing still as people shifted around her, unsure of where she should go. There was nobody here for her. Nobody was waiting to offer her a seat. She was caught between twisting strings of fear — not wanting to be rude by pushing people out of the way, not wanting to be anywhere particularly visible in the room.

"He's going away for a long time."

Her eyes darted around at the words. She could not see where they come from amongst the horde of bodies and the shuffling of feet. She could not be sure whether it was just a particularly loud murmur, or if it was directed at her specifically. She supposed it did not really matter.

There, in the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of space at the very end of a bench near the left side of the room. Right across from the in-custody booth, where her father would inevitably be dragged to.

The thought did not make her hesitate. She pounced, making her way through the horde people, making a few utterances of "excuse me" as she worked her way across the bench to the corner of the room. She knew she was attracting more stares and whispers at her presence. She did her best to ignore them.

The wall was hard and the bench was uncomfortable. The large, gruff-looking man next to her did not seem to take kindly to the sudden decrease in space. His gaze was perturbed as she took the seat, but he made no comment.

The court in front of her did not stand out in any particular way. A judge's dais loomed high above the rest of the room, empty, but promising of what was to come. Two tables sat below it, one each for prosecution and defence. She eyed the prosecutor: a tall, dark-haired woman with a fierce-looking face. She looked composed and in-control from her seat, rifling through documents, her eyes intent on the paper in front of her.

Her father's lawyer was there in a familiar bright blue suit. There were heavy bags under his eyes as he looked through his own documents, flipping through them with an agitation that betrayed a calm demeanour. The lawyer next to him looked bored as he glanced through his watch, evidently not part of what would be the initial court proceedings.

She had to make herself known to them.

"Excuse me, Mr. Pointer?" She exclaimed while pushing up against the low wall splitting the court from the gallery. It was quiet compared to the low hum of the room, but fortunately, her message was heard. The lawyer in the blue suit turned and she waived at him, as she had been instructed to do beforehand. He nodded at her, before turning back to his notes.

She breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down, bracing herself for what was to come.

A camera was set up at the corner of the room next to the judge's dais, giving it a perfect view of the lawyers, audience and the seat where her father would appear. She frowned at it, wishing it did not have to be present. She knew it would probably turn to her at some point.

"Order in the court, all rise." A male clerk below the judge's dais barked out the command. The shuffle of people rang loud in her ears as she rose up with them, watching as the judge entered the room from a side door. Grey-haired, balding and with a thick beard, the gaunt man took his seat above the rest of them, staring down at his courtroom filled to the brim with people.

"You may be seated."

She was a little slower than the rest as she stared at the man who would judge her father's life. But as the camera scanned across the crowd, she sat down quickly. She felt herself starting to tense in anticipation.

"Big crowd," the judge mused. He shook his head and sighed into his microphone. "Let's get it over with. Can you address the case of David Shield?"

"We can your honour," the prosecutor said, stepping up with her answer.

"Bring him in, then."

The energy in the room shifted dramatically. Everyone's eyes were glued to the seat, atop a wooden platform, waiting for the star of the show. The world's greatest support specialist, fallen from grace. The man who betrayed I-Island. Her hero.

An officer held him by the arm as he walked in, eyes downcast. He sat down in the chair, keeping his eyes to the floor, his hands loose in front of him. He was not physically different than the last time she saw him, but his eyes were etched with a weariness she did not like.

"Your honour," her father's lawyer stood up, looking down at his notes, reciting a script. "My client is prepared to plead guilty."

"To which offences?"

His lawyer let out a big sigh and shook his head at the paper in front of him. "All of them."

The room erupted into a chorus of whispers, sounding shrill and unpleasant to her ears. She looked at her father, whose expression was unchanged. He kept his eyes glued to his lap, not daring to look out and address the world quite yet.

"Circumstances?" The judge turned to the prosecutor, a grim line on his weathered face.

The prosecutor pulled no punches, recounting the terror her father had unwittingly contributed to. Conspiracy against the island, aiding villainy, damage to security systems, misusing security and theft of a multi-million dollar scale. His list of charges was massive and the gravity of his crimes sucked in the room and the world beyond the camera lens.

But her world remained anchored to her father. He sunk lower into his chair as the account wore on, his shoulders slumping, his face morphing into anguish as he was bombarded by regret.

Her heart clenched painfully at her father's visage. It almost physically hurt her to see him this way, same as it did when he explained himself to her alone through a glass screen.

Since being caught, this had always been his plan. He would do nothing less than own up to everything — even when a plea deal could have resulted in charges being withdrawn. Her father was walking the painful slope of atonement.

She bit her lip and struggled to maintain her composure. She had braced herself ahead of time for this but found herself struggling against the crashing waves of his crimes washing across them both.

"Mr. Shield, is that what happened?" The judge finally said after the prosecution's long account of events was stated. It was undoubtedly close to a word-for-word account of what her father himself had told them.

She watched her father breathe deeply, scrunching his face up and closing his eyes. His face morphed into something more composed, his eyes fierce as he stood up. He looked out to the courtroom and the camera in front of him.

"Yes, it is," he stated simply, his voice and demeanour calm and strong as she knew him to be.

"And how do you plead?"

His mouth formed a harder line, but he otherwise betrayed nothing more of the churning emotions inside of him. "Guilty."

A fresh chorus of audience murmuring sounded through the courtroom. Her hands twitched, but she resisted the urge to cover her ears to drown out the infernal sound.

Her father had stood up and owned everything he had done. A pale imitation of the hero she had once known.

Try as she might, she could not stop the water gathering at the edge of her eyes, stinging as she tried to reign in the tide.

"Sir, the damage this man's crimes have wrought cannot be understated," the prosecutor said as she began to argue for sentencing. "His selfish actions directly led to billions in damages to our island, not to mention the toll this has taken on the populous here. The list of his crimes is lengthy and he is in full admittance of all of it. Although he has no prior criminal record and willingly surrendered himself to the police, given the significance of his offences, that cannot stretch too far. I can recommend no less than a 20-year sentence."

It was expected. It's fine. The judge does not have to go with that.

The thoughts were little comfort. Her hands were shaking. She clenched her fingers and tried to slow them down. She looked up at her father, wondering what kind of comfort she might find there. Something she used to depend on. He looked as dazed and lost as she probably did.

"Sir, I do not agree with that level of punishment," her father's attorney stood up to start his argument, standing ramrod straight. "What this man has done is indeed inexcusable — but there are many mitigating factors. Mr. Shield never intended to harm anyone or cause any significant damage to I-Island. He associated with bad actors in more ways than one, but the totality of their crimes should not fall on his shoulders."

The man looked unnerved in his delivery but gained strength as he went on. She leaned forward in her seat, hinging herself on his words.

"Mr. Shield's contributions to this place cannot be understated either. He helped create many of our key systems and his research has been incredibly important to our very home and our world. Mr. Shield also willingly surrendered himself to the police, has been fully co-operative with investigators and has pleaded guilty at first opportunity."

"Mr. Shield is 52 years old, single and cares for his 17-year old daughter, who is here to support him today."

Like a showman, the lawyer gestured towards her, and the world's spotlight fell on her shoulders.

Melissa Shield stood up, her dark, business-like attire impeccable. She kept herself straight and tall, not a hair out of place. Her face was solemn but well-manufactured, unheeding of the millions of eyeballs judging her expression. Only the keen-eyed would see the watery, red edges around the eyes, peeking beyond the mask she had made for this moment.

"Twenty years is far too long a punishment for a man who has done so much and had minimal ill intent in his actions." The lawyer stated his closing argument loudly, focusing the world's attention back on him.

The eyes of the world left her. The endless moment had lasted but a few brief seconds. She collapsed into her chair, waited a few seconds in case of a lingering camera, and then pushed her face into her palms.

She wanted to bury herself into something. Or someone. But she had nobody else now.

Her father was a world away. So too was Deku. The rest of her friends on the island had abandoned her. All Might had been dissuaded from being here, her father so concerned about the damage his best friend's presence in this court might do to the Symbol of Peace.

A fallen hero casts a wide shadow. She was entrenched in that darkness.

"…A five-year sentence is much more appropriate, with community service after that. Mr. Shield is a good man who did a bad thing. He does not need to be locked away."

She frowned at the proclamation. Truth was, she did not know what her father deserved. Or what she even really wanted for him.

"Before we wrap things up, is there anything else you would like to say, Mr. Shield?"

Her father stood up again, exerting the most confident aura he could. The camera zoomed in close and the world awaited his words.

"I am truly sorry for what I did. It was wrong. I only hoped to help a dear friend. But the ends did not justify the means. I am ready to accept my punishment."

As he sat back down, another ripple of murmuring went through the crowd. She clenched her hands on her knees and tried not to shake at her father's heartfelt speech.

"I'll need a few weeks before my decision," the judge said as he scribbled down some notes in front of him. "Let's say six weeks. We'll take a recess for people to exit. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Shield."

"Order in the court, all rise!"

He was downcast again as an officer took him by the arm and back into custody. He scanned across the room as if searching for someone.

His eyes met hers. A moment of surprise. Followed by his smile — and a nod.

"Thank you," he mouthed, silently, lost in the cacophony of sound.

David Shield disappeared behind a plain wooden door.

She let out an unsteady breath. She led her bangs and glasses hide her watery eyes from the camera which might be trying to single her out.

The mass of people was hardly worth trying to get through right away. She could not force her way through. It was better to sit and try to stay out of sight.

The dark fabric of her skirt disguised the tiny splotches of water. All she could do was wait.

Powerless.

It was a long time until I saw my father again.

The judge sentenced him to ten years in custody. There was a possibility of parole, which we hoped he could get before long. It was favourable, all things considered, but a difficult sentence. He saw it as just.

I did what I could to keep in touch with him. But the distance made it difficult. Trying to get through school and find a way to mostly provide for myself soon took up most of my time.

Surviving was more difficult when my last name had become a reviled curse.

I had never felt more alone.

"Is that really all it does?"

She took a breath before answering. Her brow felt hot under the scrutiny of her instructors, but she could not get flustered. She had prepared for this. She could do this.

"It's more durable than just about any support item on the market. Its flexibility can lend itself to a widely applicable form of armour. Whether against a villain's punch or to protect a hero from their own attacks with any kind of blowback."

"The design is rather sleek. But it only extends across the arm. What do you envision for this?"

"With manufacturing resources, I have designs ready for whole body suits, as needed."

"Is it compatible with other support items?"

She blinked at the question. A curveball, not rehearsed in her script. But she could think on her feet.

"…It should be easily adaptable to any specifications, with a bit of time. It should be perfectly congruous with many support items as is."

"Why would the best heroes use this? Most heroes focus on mobility or quirk augmentation with their items, not pure defence."

The inquiry pushed her mouth into a hard line. She could see the disappointment and annoyance dripping from her instructors' faces. None met her eyes as they sought every reason to dislike her creation.

She could not expect anything more than that. She was a Shield, after all.

"Even the best heroes need protection sometimes, sir," she replied with a cold, detached politeness.

"Well, it could be worse. But I admit, I expected more from you, Miss Shield."

So did I.

"You can go now."

With a nod, she took her device and walked steadily out of the room. Her footsteps were loud against the metallic tile. She knew their eyes would not be on her back. They would be scribbling quick notes for an unspectacular grade before moving on as quickly as possible.

That is all she was to them, now. An unspectacular number they would rather not deal with or consider. To associate with her was more trouble than it was worth.

The eyes of the world did not look out for her anymore.

She kept walking, but closed her eyes for a just a moment. An image passed through her mind, one of herself, standing mighty against the terror that had gripped her home and caused her world to collapse.

She could have built it. It would have been something beyond the imaginations of her sneering instructors.

But she already knew. What she really wanted to build could never be. The world had made it clear what her limits were.

It was hard enough to lose one hero.

I could not bear the idea of losing two.

I wondered if their fight would destroy me. Obliterate what hope I had left.

But from my hero's ashes, I would have to find my own hope.

Her right hand trembled in her lap. Her breathing became short. Her forehead and eyes watered and she found herself drawn like a moth to the lights flickering on her television screen.

There he was. All Might, the paragon of heroism and righteousness, decaying to the point of wispiness. The man she had once seen as unbeatable, reduced to a pale shadow of his former self. Facing off against a clearly mightier supervillain.

But he was still standing.

In the face of an overwhelming enemy, All Might still continued standing defiantly. In his state, he should have collapsed long ago. He should have given up.

"The power of All Might is not long for this world." Her father had warned her this day would come. From behind a plastic screen, his pronouncement had seemed as otherworldly as he himself had become. "The time will come soon when your generation will carry the torch of peace."

"All Might…" she whispered to herself. Her voice was lost to the sound of the television. A reporter was screaming over the whir of helicopter blades, as desperately as the whole world was.

"You have to win!" she yelled with all the force she could muster. "We need you! Come on All Might!"

It did not matter that she was alone in her workshop, shouting to no one. It did not matter how tired she was or that her throat ached as she kept shouting, trying to cheer him on. It did not matter that there was no possibility that he could actually, physically hear her.

He was the world's hero. Her hero. And he would know that she was watching, rooting for him with everything she had.

The camera went black just as All Might put on a counterattack against his foe, the force of his blow making it impossible for the world to see exactly what happened.

But when the cameras rolled again, he was there. Same as he always was, standing. The villain collapsed beneath his feet.

She cheered with the rest of the world when he lifted his fist up, overpowering any hope of the reporters getting words in. All Might had won. He was still there. The world could stay at peace.

Even as her own world spiralled wildly out of control, she could take solace in that.

Even as her logical mind knew All Might was on his last legs, her heart did not want to bear considering that this could be his end.

But then he pointed his finger out to the world.

His words clawed and entrenched themselves into her very soul.

"Now, it's your turn."

She could hear the roar of the crowd. She could hear the crowd cheer at All Might's final heroic line, taking it as some kind of warning against the villains of the world. She could hear the crowd desperately seizing onto the idea that the world's peace would be maintained.

But she could not hold back her tears as she realized what it meant. All Might's time had faded. He was passing on the torch for good.

Her hero was standing. But All Might had fallen.

It was a message for Deku. She knew it had to be. The boy whose power was so like All Might it was uncanny. The boy who fought by All Might's side to save her home, matching him stride for stride. The boy who had become her dear friend and confidant — now one of the only friends she had.

He would be the next Symbol of Peace.

He would be her hero.

Melissa Shield did not let herself cry for long. She was tired of it. She was done losing herself to despair. All Might and Deku could keep going against impossible circumstances and so could she. Even as the world pushed against her, she would keep going.

All Might's message was not just for Deku. Just like his teacher, Deku would need support bearing the burden of the Symbol of Peace.

She was going to be the one to protect him. She would give him all the support he could ever hope for.

It was her turn too.

With her face locked into a fierce frown, she arose, a phoenix, from her seat. She stepped with purpose towards the other end of her lab. She pressed her hand on the special spot on a seemingly empty, bright wall, causing a small keypad to pop out in front of her.

"Every good workshop has its secrets, Melissa." She remembered her father's words when he had secretly installed a hidden room in her workshop, intent on giving her an avenue to hide whatever she wanted from any prying eyes. She had thought it had been a bit much, and the memory was stained in her mind by her father's own secrecy. But she could appreciate the boon the room had become.

The correct passcode she entered caused the wall to slide away, revealing a rather cramped space wide enough for only one person. The dark walls within appeared flat, but disguised all sorts of containment units for different projects and plans.

But there was only one thing she had ever buried within this place, no longer feeling like it could see the light of day. It hung on the top-half of a mannequin at the end of the hallway, lit up and raised by a cylindrical containment unit. It stood out in the darkness, a bright backlight making it a beacon.

It was not an impressive sight. For now, it was but half a breastplate, a messy tangle of metal and wires with little cohesion in its shape. It would hardly attract attention for what it was today.

But she stepped forward trepidatiously just the same, pressing down on another section of the wall near the piece of the armour itself.

A drawer opened up in the side of the wall, stretching across the entire hallway directly in front of her. The notes and schematics she had left here were messy and scattered, plunged inside with minimal care. In her haste, she had felt the project would be left in here forever. She had only barely held herself back from destroying it entirely.

After some quick shuffling through pages, she pulled out what she was looking for. The complete design of what the device in front of her would become.

She held the design in front of her eyes, overshadowing the unimpressive looking equipment in front of her. A complete set of mechanical armour was drawn across it, painstakingly designed to be both visually appealing and aerodynamic. The suit covered the entire body and fit snugly against the hero, any jagged edges smoothed over in designs, replicating what was popular on the day. But it would be bulkier than a regular hero costume, filled to the brim with more wires and tech than just about any singular support item on the market.

After years of doting on her father's research, she thought she had stumbled onto something great. It would require significant testing, but if she was successful, it could revolutionize the world of heroics.

It was a power suit. Designed to enhance and magnify a wearer's physical abilities. The exact amount would require more testing, but she was aiming to get it anywhere between three and ten times the amount of a person's natural physical prowess.

In the hands of an average person, it was effectively a way to give them super strength. But in the hands of a hero like All Might, it could make them absolutely unstoppable.

She pushed the drawer out of the way and stepped forward, releasing the containment unit to finger through the mechanics of her device. She remembered when she could just lose herself in working on the design for it. She was so happy and enthralled to have come up with it. It was her dream coming true; a chance to be someone's hero.

But her father had shown her the folly of letting one's genius go too far in pushing boundaries. In the wrong hands, this device could be catastrophic.

She had shoved it in here, intent on keeping it buried in this place laced with memories of her father. But a part of her knew it would not be that simple. She could not destroy the embodiment of her dreams.

Melissa Shield closed her eyes with her hand on her invention. She could see the vision in her mind again; a recurring dream that haunted every sleeping moment. Herself wearing the suit, standing powerful and tall as All Might did. Able to fight alongside him, as Deku came to do right in front of her.

She was quirkless. But a portion of her mind still wanted to be a hero. To support other heroes, both on and off the field.

She smiled at her own naivety as she opened her eyes to see the incomplete device before her. It was a childish dream. Nothing more.

But there was a new hero she could stake her hopes on now. Someone who would be the perfect wearer of her suit. Someone who could unleash its full potential to become unbeatable. A true hero.

Deku appeared in her mind. Grown up, tall, powerful, the wind sweeping across his hair. Wearing a power suit of her design, a delightful smile still visible beneath his helmet.

The image brought a grin to her own face.

She took the device into her hands and turned around, stepping back to the brighter lights of the rest of her workshop. She knew what she had to do now. She would bring that image to reality, damn all the possible consequences of creating something so powerful.

The world needed a new Symbol of Peace and she would help bring one to fruition.

The world would never see her as a hero. But she could at least be a hero to someone.

AN: Thank you for reading! ^_^ Please give it a favourite and a review if you enjoyed it!

I just had to write something about Melissa after the amazing movie, seeing how little there was out there about her. The movie ends just as her story is about to get really compelling, in my mind. Here's hoping she comes back to be featured in the main series.

This is definitely staying a one-shot, but I might find a way to work her into future projects.

Until next time!