NOTE: Sorry I haven't updated in ages, but I sort of left the BNHA fandom for a little while, but I'm mostly back in the fandom, now. There's probably not going to be too many regular updates, just whenever my writers block decides to go away for enough time. END OF NOTE

Izuku's "home" wasn't much. Just a small place that he could keep his clothes, books, and where he could sleep. He didn't consider it much either. It was one of the apartments in an old, and frankly ratty complex in one of the badder parts of the city. Being a villain, even one with a role as a... well, strategist was the best word for it, really.

As Izuku closed the door behind him, he carefully placed his bag on the cheap pull out couch he used for convenience. He probably hadn't had a full night's sleep in a couple weeks, and it was clear to see every time he looked in the mirror with the dark bags under his eyes. So, he let himself collapse face first into the slightly dirty mattress. He didn't think that he had folded the bed back into a regular couch since he got it.

He forced himself to sit up and pull his laptop and notebook back out. He wasn't going to bother waiting for Shigaraki to get him a new pen, because the man had the mind of a toddler and would never do it. However, that was the third writing tool in the last few days, and the pack he had was running out a lot faster than he thought it would. He opened his laptop and powered it up.

The screen lit up with an update notification that was unavoidable. Izuku sighed and clicked the start button and looked back up at the walls of his one room apartment. The wallpaper was peeling a little, and had mystery stains that had been there since he moved in. He never bothered fixing any of it.

Sticky notes, ripped out notebook papers, and sketches hung off the walls with scotch tape. Most of it was to organize his thoughts so he didn't get back into the habit of muttering. The sketches were doodles of heroes and how their quirks would effect nearby areas, diagrams more than anything. And the sticky notes were for anything else that came to mind—quite a few having some variation of why not me crossed out with scribbles. A single poster was up, ripped unevenly with the tattered pieces on the ground. The hero's name was additionally crossed out in thick black marker, and a large, thick, red x on the smiling face.

Izuku let out a slightly shaky breath, feelings climbing up in the back of his throat again. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the poster that was too familiar, even in shreds. He really didn't know why he kept it. It wasn't like the poster "fueled his undying rage," he would cringe at himself if that was the case. He looked back at the laptop and watched as the percent slowly clicked up.

Grabbing the pack of pens that he kept in a small box under the mattress, he took another black pen out. He dropped the pack back to the ground and lied down across the mattress while he waited, spinning the pen in his fingers. He closed his eyes and tried to let his mind go blank. It didn't work, as per the norm, but it was enough to put him in a half sleep.

When Izuku woke up from his nap, it was late at night. His arms were sore from how he was lying down and the light from outside was almost completely gone, just a moon and stars shining down. He groggily pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. His stomach growled and he remembered that he completely forgot to go buy any food. He jumped up from the mattress, grabbed his wallet, phone, and changed into an old black sweater that was a little too big for him and old jeans.

Definitely better not to go out in the clothes he wore when working for the League. They were sort of your classic modern villain clothes.

Izuku practically pranced out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

X

The 24-Hour store was as rundown as the rest of that part of town. Izuku would have gone to a better place, but it was well past midnight and it was pretty close to his apartment. He looked over the shelves of cheap, bagged food. He grabbed three bags of chips and one bag of candy. He quickly payed of them and left the store.

Once he left the building, he was opening one of the bags of chips and starting to eat. The street was near empty around this time of night. A few drunken stragglers from bars, night-owls sitting at the few cafes that were still open, and people like Izuku—the ones with really messed up sleeping schedules. He ate the chips as he casually walked down the sidewalk. He probably seemed really out of place, a teen on the dark streets in a bad neighborhood.

One of the stores he passed had TVs in the window, that were still on as the last employees inside finished closing up. Izuku paused in front of flat screens, momentarily watching the newscast. The media catches wind of everything, and pretty quickly, he thought smirking a little. He wiped his greasy fingers off on his jeans before pulling his phone out and snapping a picture of the news. He half listened to the words the anchor was saying as he thumbed through his contacts—searching for the few that actually mattered.

"UA students were supposedly attacked by a group of villains in their recent training at the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ, used to prepare the heroes in training for different natural disasters they might face. As far as we know, there were no substantial injuries on the half of the students, or pro-heroes who came to help. There's not much information on this story, and all we know for sure is that the villains did manage to escape, and that we do not know who or where they might be."

Izuku selected Shigaraki's contact, which was rarely used unless it was business related, and sent him the photo with the caption: Look, we're famous. He didn't even considering waiting for a response and kept walking back towards his apartment, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He hummed to himself a little and kept eating. One attack and they already made the news.