They took off her blindfold before they do their masks. When her sense of sight finally returns to her, she finds herself in an unfamiliar room. Shadows lurk in the unpainted, concrete walls, converging away from the lone halogen lamp on the far left. The eerie, green glow emphasizes each crack in the edifice, the shadows denting into several misshapen blob of black. The only sound she can hear is her own breathing. It reminds her of her days in the Institution, except that her cell is significantly more well-funded than what a bunch of rebels in a small town can afford.
She was restrained on a chair by something that felt like tape based on the smooth and sticky texture and she could move nothing save her head. Craning her neck slightly, she can see more faces. Bakugo and Kirishima, as she had learned the other man was called, were the only ones still wearing the ugly masks.
No sooner than the thought comes, both men began to peel off the dark stocking off their faces, revealing a blond and redhead. They could not have been much older than her. Most mutants, as the radio broadcast took to calling her kind, are no older than twenty after all.
She grimly wonders, not for the first time, if the glowing baby in China is still alive.
Bakugo is the one with pale blond hair and eyes even redder than Todoroki's red side. He is tall, strong and overall, not bad looking. He takes a step toward her and begins. "Speak."
She draws a breath, not breaking her staredown with the unusually crimson eyes. It has been a long time since she saw something other than black eyes. Maybe Bakugo is more mutated than she thought. "I am Yaoyorozu Momo. Patient of the Institution number 215296. I can create anything out of my fat cells, as long as I know what they are made of. I was one of the few to survive the fire." Deliberately, she turns her neck to look around. "Is this some kind of initiation?"
The man ignores the jab. "Why do you want to join us?"
She does not bat an eye. "Revenge. They killed my parents, everyone that mattered." They killed Shouto, but she does not say that. "I want to get even."
"And we know that you are not spy because…?"
"Because aside from information, I can lend you my power." She never liked being restrained. She had enough of that in her teens. And so without so much as lifting a finger, Momo peeled the tapes away with said power. Sharp metal rods slowly protrude from her bare arms, her skin glowing pink and she pulls one off from her skin without flinching.
She can tell that what she just did equated to an impressive show, except Bakugo remained nonplussed as ever even when the rest of his motley crew sported wide eyes and open mouths. But dealing with equally stubborn doctors over the years had honed her in the art of politics and she continues. "You can't always get what you want with explosions. With terrorism."
"But Momo-san," It is Kirishima who says this, putting a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. The other man merely shrugs it off. "The Resistance—"
"You are terrorists." She says firmly, in a tone that she hoped left no room for argument. 'And terrorism is nothing more than childish harassment."
It is the smell of nitroglycerin reacting that strikes even before she hears the sparks imploding from Bakugo's hands. "What? Are you saying we are just a bunch of brats?"
"No, Bakugo-san." She makes sure to drawl out his name in a deliberate manner. She realizes she has heard of him, as she says his name. He had been in the Institution's computers as one of those lucky few they never were able to lay their hands on. "I am saying that you can be better. Do not mistake your enemy."
"Our enemy is those damn self-righteous people who thinks they are all high and mighty just because they are normal. We are not what is wrong in this world. We are…"
"We are the hope. The hope of this same people who you deem your enemy. Our enemy is the government that lets them believe we are the enemy. The propaganda, the Institution!" Fearlessly, Momo fashions a fireproof glove through her power and reaches out for Bakugo's glowing hand. She holds it firmly, looks into his eyes until he calms down. "I've been through everything you have been through. But let us make sure we exact revenge only on the right people. That is justice."
It takes a long time before Bakugo's hands cool down. It takes even longer to convince him. But when he came around, the smell of nitroglycerin did not feel as deathly as it did anymore.
TWO
Todoroki Shouto's left hand smells like firewood. She had loved everything about the left side he loathed so much, even the scar that marred what would have been such a beautiful face. In the corridors so cold and gray, she appreciated the sight of something so vibrant that it stood out in a cafeteria that were filled to the brim with dead-eyed children.
The same dead-eyed children whispered around the moment the new boy came in. It had been two years after her own entrance and by now, everyone had been numbed to the point that they barely noticed who came and went. Momo had stopped counting heads too. She just had been glad that they were cured.
Whatever drugs or treatments the cured ones took; it does not seem to be working for her or for everyone else who were there to see Todoroki Shouto be admitted for that matter. But somehow, his unusual appearance brought back curiosity in a group that were repeatedly drilled not to ask questions. It was into two weeks after his admission that Todoroki was allowed to roam free during meal times in the cafeteria and rumors followed him, like the doctors' eyes never stop doing.
"I heard he killed people."
"I heard he has two quirks."
"They barely can cure me and I only have one. He's hopeless."
"Why did they bring a murderer here?"
"So you guys have a cafeteria?" Why he chose to sit beside her, she never found out. But him being in such close proximity made her hyper aware about the stories that came from every shushed voices around her. Todoroki Shouto was looking at her expectantly, mismatched eyes waiting for her answer and for a moment, she struggled to reconcile the stories of a merciless murderer to this boyishly handsome, albeit scarred boy before her.
"Yes." She said, feeling too self-conscious about being caught staring at the red spot on his face. Momo's face reddened. "We did not have it until two months ago. But we are only allowed to stay here during meal times."
"Ah." He seemed disappointed. Which she could empathize with. Their isolation cells are not exactly the best places in the world. She herself liked meal time, even when the food did not improve all that much. It reminded her that she was not all alone.
"But we have recreational activities." She said, trying to smile. She noticed that Todoroki barely touched his plate. "They teach us to paint."
He poked his food listlessly and grumbled. "To see how fucked up we are, huh?"
"No!" She was horrified. But she tried to tone it down. Her exclaiming caught the attention of the others, all eyes now not at all discreet in watching them. "I mean, they just want to make sure we are still learning. You know, for once we are cured and be let out of here."
He snorted but did not grace her with any more words. Momo had since lost any appetite to eat any more of the food.
(TBC)
