If there was one thing that never seemed to stop, since the bombs dropped, it was the rain. What little vegetation, plant life was still there to grow greedily drank it up while the people collected it however they could. It had to be filtered, detoxified of radiation, all naturally grown food did. Water was one of the few things a person could eat that wasn't some synthetic copy, made of vegetable or protein components that best 'matched' what it was supposed to be. In most cases, that protein replacement was just some form of insect. Meal-worms, most typically.

Farm after farm had been built, just to grow soy or to cultivate worms. That was all most food was these days, if you were lucky maybe you got a burger made of mushrooms; if nothing else, it almost tasted and felt the same on your tongue as meat. Of course, most of those farms were dangerously close to the wastes. Irradiated lands speckled with dead trees, dusty skeletal fragments and mutated creatures. Eating one of them was as likely to kill you as just drinking glowing sludge, so one brave, stupid soul had discovered.

...Izuku Midoriya was very hungry.

It didn't help matters that he and his partner were currently staking out a restaurant, and it all smelled so good. Rubbing at his growling stomach, he heard her sigh in the seat next to him. "Worry about that after we do our jobs, okay?"

He nodded, gulping down the saliva that was oozing into his mouth. Sad thing was, if they succeeded in finding what they were after, neither he nor Jiro would be eating anything from this place. Not for some time to come... Businesses didn't typically let you back in the door if you killed one of their employees. Speaking of, there he was, wearing the mask and everything.

"Okay, Green." Jiro clicked the button, unlocking the doors and slowly opened hers. "You're taking point on this one." Again, he nodded, climbing out of the car and felt his go colder than usual, as the rain freckled his skin. "You okay?" She almost sounded concerned, but when he looked at her she had her usual poker face on. "You're paler than usual."

Smiling, he hoped his tone would be convincing. "Just fine, Sarge."

The look she gave was far from anything less than skeptical, annoyed. Hard to tell what was poker face and what wasn't, until she sighed. "Okay, I'll be watching the exits. Do your thing."

As she lit a cigarette, the smoke wafting up through the rain and her already dampening, short, purple hair, Izuku walked for the entrance. He resisted the urge to pull his coat around his ears, to feel the soft, synthetic fur of the lining against his skin but it was only a few meters to the door. Instead, he put his sunglasses on and tapped the rim twice, activating their hidden features. Above his head, the neon signs and telescreens flashed advertisements of all kinds.

'A better life awaits you in the off-world colonies!'

Provided the radiation hasn't sterilized you, and your genetics haven't been corrupted.

'Purchase a digital, holographic companion! They'll make those lonely nights at home into memories you'll never want to lose!'

Provided you can forget anything.

'Workers drafted to clear out the toxic debris outside LA, few expected to survive.'

Just like me and this job...

'Animal Murder at Koji's pet emporium! More details as the story develops...'

...Did that just happen? Who would kill animals like that?

Izuku almost wanted to cry just thinking about it.

'Moonbus hijacked off of Titan, found crashed in the kipple outside Los Angeles! Whereabouts of hijackers unknown, even after two weeks time, according to police!'

We really need to close that one soon, before panic starts to set in.

Once inside, his stomach practically screamed at him, with the smells hitting his nose. It was one of those old fashioned hibachi steakhouses, where the cooks would prepare your meal right in front of you. A busy night, as almost every table was full. Strangers out to dinner, forced to make friends. The awkward small talk ranged from 'cute' to 'dear lord, someone teach these poor souls how to interact already!' Painfully reminding Izuku of his years in high school, and his entire life before then.

Before he found his way into this career...

Lo and behold, there was the man he was looking for, stationed at one of the grills. As luck would have it, he had no other customers. "I can hear that racket over the grill." Said the man, behind his cloth mask, white hair poking down to his forehead. "Sit down."

Unable to form much of an argument, Izuku did as he was told. This would be the perfect cover anyways. "Quite the crowd. Why's your table empty?"

As he sat down, the man glared at him with beady eyes. The look was playful, so said the confident smirk he gave. "Nothin to do with my cooking, I assure you." To make a show of it, he started cooking up the house special, using the perfect blend of spices and sauce.

Another round of swallowing saliva and groaning at his aching stomach. "I don't remember placing my order..."

"Oh this is just a sample." The man chuckled, as Izuku struggled to avoid feeling awkward, so diligently keeping eye contact as he was.

In less than a few seconds, a piece of meat and a small tangle of noodles were plopped onto the grill in front of him. Chopsticks in hand, his fingers worked ina greedy blur to bring the morsel to his mouth. To his starving tongue, it tasted like heaven. "...Consider my order placed."

He met the man's eyes for the first time, pride swelling within them. "Now we're cookin." Izuku manged a chuckle, his sunglasses finally activating their heads-up-display.

Data collected: 25%

As the masked man set to work, preparing the food with skillful flourishes of his wrists, he smiled under his mask. "Got a name."

"Midoriya." Said he, handshake offered.

To his surprise, the gesture was met over the grill. "Shoji." As their hands touched, fingers clasping, Izuku looked at the man's hand and the HUD lit up again.

Data collected: 37%

In his right eye, he saw the glasses giving a thermal readout of Shoji's skin. His arms were abnormally cold, while his legs were as red as the sun. Fight or flight response, blood rushes from all other points in the body so you're ready to run. He blinked twice, prompting the readout of the man's face so far. Pupil dilation was about 13% slower than it should have been, blush response... unknown, but his expressions didn't register as within human baseline to the machine.

Of course, that could just mean he was autistic, and that he'd had a stressful encounter on his way to work.

"Andie scare on your way in?" Said the man with black hair, reflecting the light as green highlights

Shoji raised an eyebrow, a motion his sunglasses also registered as just a hair too slow. "Who's Andie?"

Izuku grimaced. "The ah, far less friendly word is..." the slur tasted bile, he couldn't say it.

Face contorting slightly, Shoji had to look away from him for a moment. "I get the picture."

Data collected: 41%

The flicker of an expression had been a mix between anger and disgust. "You a sympathizer, Shoji?"

Beady eyes met his in a flash, fixing there and unblinking. Even without the machine, Izuku's gut told him all he needed to know. "I'd rather not discus politics while on the job, thank you."

As the waitress dropped off a drink, Izuku picked it up and took a sip. "Of course." Just water, and it made his stomach growl more. "How long have you worked here?"

Shoji shrugged noncommittally. "Couple weeks." then he served the other man his meal, and Izuku greedily dug into it while Shoji laughed. "Damn you're hungry. Your job not paying you enough?"

Sheepishly, the greenette laughed. "well, not until now. Recently got promoted."

Wiping his hands and grill with a rag, Shoji nonchalantly went about cleaning up. All the while, Izuku's HUD flared that this man was neck deep in his fight or flight response. "So what do you do? Pale as you look, I'd guess it was an active gig on top of not paying you."

Gulping down a hearty amount of noodles and 'steak', Izuku nodded. "Yeah... I'm a cop."

All motion from the masked man slowly crawled to a stop, then his eyes trailed up to Izuku's sunglasses. "...What was your promotion to?"

A tension found its way into the air, thick enough that the rain might've bounced of it. Even so, Izuku told him the truth. "To the Blade Runner Unit."

While Shoji's expression remained neutral, both the Blade Runner and his machine recognized the strained effort made to force it stuck that way. "That's gotta be stressful." His idle hands propped themselves on the counter, one very close to his knife, the other at his spices.

"It is." Under the table, one of Izuku's hands was reaching for his gun.

With a smile, Shoji grabbed a handful of spices. "Well," he drizzled a hearty amount of them onto the grill and grabbed the cooking oil, splashing it down over it and mixing it with his spatula. "To your promotion then, mister Blade Runner."

Izuku was about to smile, as Shoji lifted a pitcher of water up to pour it on the grill. When the top fell away, the water splashing down with a wet crash, thick steam filled the restaurant. Pandemonium ensued, people screamed, some choked and others instinctively dove for cover. So many footsteps began stampeding in all manner of direction, and Izuku heard a yell from outside.

"GREEN!" Choking at the steam, his hand flew to the handle of 'detective special', standard Blade Runner pistol and he bolted for the door. Once outside, his watering eyes, saw Jiro bolting down an alleyway and he tore after her.

Wind, cold air and rain cut against him, putting a numbness against his skin. Along the way, even with his boot-heels crashing to the asphalt, he saw Jiro had dropped her cigarette as she'd been running. Judging her path from the angle, Izuku altered course.

Just seconds later, he saw her hesitating at a fork in the path, her sharp ears trying to pinpoint where their man had gone. Her partner wasted no such time, running full tilt down one alley at random. "Go the other way!" He shouted.

Wordlessly, she tore off down the other path as Izuku continued sprinting. Through puddles, loose trash, bits of pavement, broken glass and moldy food, boots sticking to newspapers once or twice, he followed the small corridor the buildings made for him to a dead end. Almost out of breath, he resisted the urge to swear as he ground to a halt.

Damn it all... he'd have to go back the other way! Jiro Was about go up against the target alone, practically suicide for a human! As he started turning around, gasping for air, he heard a sound. The crinkling broken glass, dropping first to a windowsill, then to the street. Slowly, as quiet as could be with breath and step, Izuku approached the broken window.

As his thumb switched off the safety of his weapon, his eyes saw just a small splash of blood against the glass. According to his glasses, it was still warm. Cautiously, adrenaline now fueling his aching body, he climbed through into the long abandoned building. Between being nearly spent from lack of nourishment and now sprinting, coupled with the adrenaline, Izuku felt the edges of his skull tingle, heartbeat climbing rapidly.

Out of the corner of his eye, a human form moved, and he snapped his gun to it. The roaring boom of his hand canon split the night, tearing clean through the head of the body. "Impressive!" It was just mannequin. "We could have used an aim like that in the skirmishes on mars..." As Izuku crept forward, his eyes everywhere, Shoji's voice echoed through the building. "How many people have you killed, Mister Blade Runner?"

"One." He answered truthfully, breathing fast and sharp as he tried to pinpoint Shoji's location. "Far less than you've killed, I'm guessing."

Shoji chuckled. "You mean in my escape? Or the ones I killed while me and my brothers and sisters served as disposable warriors, in the stars?" As his voice refused to be pinpointed, the sounds of rain from outside mixed with the quiet echoes of the building. "Or would you like the grand total?"

"Thanks for the confession..." Izuku murmured, "if you come quietly, you don't have to die."

Silence, for a brief moment, and Izuku stopped walking, listening intently as his heart pounded. "Better to die free, than live in a cage, Midoriya."

A snap, wooden planks splitting apart and pouring dust down onto his head as Fingers snagged his hair. With a yelp, he was pulled through the wooden floor and thrown through the next ceiling above them both. Groaning, he forced himself to roll over, taking what little aim he could before the hands of his enemy smashed up to drag him back down.

Another deafening boom, then another as he fired again and again. This time it was the wall that broke his momentum as Shoji growled in pain, Izuku's gun clattering away. Wherever his glasses were, he missed them as his blurry eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. He wasn't sure where he'd shot Shoji, but it clearly hadn't been lethal as his fist came at him like a cannonball. Unable to dodge, Izuku was sent through the wall and landed in a groaning heap.

In the room he'd just been forced to vacate, he heard Shoji stumbling around, probably looking for his gun. Grabbing the first metal object his hand found, Izuku leapt back to his feet and dove back through the hole his body had made. His weapon turned out to be a fireplace poker, which he speared through the man's chest.

Another pained growl, Shoji's fist hitting him so hard stars exploded in his eyes. Izuku was sent flying to the other side of the room, his head cracking the glass of a nearby window. As he stumbled about his hand hit a familiar object and he ducked just in time to avoid being speared through the head by the poker. Even with a sucking chest wound, Shoji moved like a cheetah, right at him.

Rather than stand, Izuku took aim and fired. The bullet went right through his chest, through his other lung, yet he still charged. A knee Slammed Izuku against the wall, a hand gripping at his throat. Only the masked man was no longer working with the beastly strength he'd once had, at least not all of it. The Blade Runner took aim again, only for the gun to be swatted away again before he was hauled to his feet.

Izuku's back hit the window, cracks forming instantly, then his fingers curled into fists. It was a bloody, brutal exchange of blows. Skin tore, bones cracked, joints snapped, fingers broke, stomachs were kneed so hard both men nearly vomited blood. Izuku was staggered, falling to one side, hand scrambling for his gun while Shoji struggled to keep himself upright, hands on the wall.

While the air refused to cycle through his lungs, the masked man slumped against the glass, his blood trickling down the cracked surface. Izuku clambered to his shaky feet, his gun held firm as he breathed freely. "Tell me..." Shoji wheezed, forcing himself to turn around, "what's it like... having memories... you know are real...?"

Izuku didn't say anything, he just panted, his expression pained as he watched the other man die.

Shoji laughed, gurgling on his own blood. "I could never tell... when mine started to be... mine... and not just the implants..."

The Blade Runner took pity, and humored him. "Nexus six or seven?"

Shoji shrugged. "Doesn't matter..."

Izuku flinched, a stinging in his eyes again. "I don't know how to answer your question." Shoji's met his for the first time, unimpeded by other barriers and something clicked into place.

Both men had just been trying to kill each other, yet this was probably the most intimate conversation the masked man had ever known. Izuku might not have understood him, but even when he learned what he was, he was willing to talk. "You never questioned it? Whether or not you were really..." he slumped down a little further, eyes drooping. "Human?"

Izuku shook his head. "Guess not..."

Beneath his mask, Shoji smiled. "Never... got tested... to find out?"

The Blade Runner shook his head. "Not even once."

The dying man's body slid the rest of the way down the wall, landing on his rear with a light thump. "yeah... I wouldn't... either..." The last of the air pushed itself free, and Shoji's chest stopped moving. Then all the rest of him stopped too...

Footsteps came racing up behind him, the beam of a flashlight dancing about as a familiar voice called out. "Green!" She stopped as soon as she saw the body, then whistled. "Damn, Rookie. You went ham on him."

Holstering his gun, Izuku turned around gave her a sad smile. "Didn't really have a choice."

Looking him over, she was partway between impressed and very worried. "I'll say... where'd you learn to take a beating like that?"

Shrugging, Izuku shook his head. "Orphanage." He looked back at Shoji's dead body, seeing the way the light reflected off his eyes. The telltale sign was there, the glossy white reflection of light, almost like some fluid had filled up behind the pupil. Eyes only reflected light like that when they were manufactured. "Kids there didn't like to play nice..."

Jiro patted his shoulder, softly, in a friendly gesture sure not to hurt his aching bones. "Where you met Blasty Bakugo, right?" Izuku would have laughed, if he hadn't just killed a man. "...Was he the one who didn't play nice?"

Instead of replying, Izuku just gave as much of a smile as he could before walking for the exit.

"Hey, Chin up Green." She said, holstering her own weapon. "Retiring a Replicant on your first day? Think of the bonus you're gonna get!"

A notion that had nausea twisting up in his stomach like a thorny spiral. "Yeah... Maybe I'll get a cat."

Jiro snickered, rolling her eyes. "Sure, Green. As long as it makes ya happy." Patting his shoulder again, she started jogging ahead of him. "Come on, Rookie. I'll getcha a drink before we head back to the precinct."

Now that sounded like an alright idea.

The report Izuku would turn in later that night would read 'routine retirement of a replicant'. Just a fancy way of dancing around the fact that his job was to kill people. People who were a danger to the general public, but it was still murder in the young man's eyes. Twenty three, and he'd already taken lives. Yeah, he'd be drinking something to wash that out of subconscious tonight...

The year is 2067, the earth continues to recover from a global nuclear war.

In the aftermath, humanity has moved on from the earth to colonize the stars.

Those who remain on earth endure harsh conditions, and the threat of sterility and brain damage from radiation.

To ease the lives of people off-world, and even some on the earth, an artificial form of human was created: Replicants.

Stronger, more agile, more durable and at least as intelligent as the genetic engineers who created them, their technology has advanced beyond the 'Nexus Eight' series into 'Nexus Nine'.

Details of this project, the nature of the replicants created, eludes the public eye.

Due to a bloody rebellion off world, in the colonies, replicants were outlawed on earth under penalty of death.

Elite police units were created to hunt any replicants on earth, they were called Blade Runners.

Killing a replicant is not called execution, it is called retirement.