Authors Note: Heyyyyyy, chapter 7 is FINALLY up! I'm so sorry for this taking so long. I really hope everyone enjoys this one. It's a bit shorter, but I tried. This is where stuff starts to pick up. Anyways, thanks for your continued support, and enjoy!

It was cold on this Sunday night, about two in the morning. The trees rustled with a bitterly cold breeze. Just outside the back of the Tokyo prison, a worker emerged with a large trash bag slung over his shoulder. He had a more slim build than a normal security guard or police officer would have, and his black hair blended perfectly with the sky. He let out a small huff, his breath floating out in front of him in the form of a cloud of frost. He trudged over to a large garbage bin and threw the lid open with his left hand, heaving the trash over his shoulder and into the bin. Just as he was about to head inside, a noise sounded from behind. He jerked his head around to look behind him, however, he saw nothing. He shrugged, turning his head to face forward again. The last thing he wanted was for another group of villains trying to bust out a comrade. He picked up his pace, only to stop dead in his tracks as a hand clasped around his neck, leaving one finger out. He felt the heavy breathing of the person behind him. Then, a crispy voice whispered in his ear.

"My apologies, but we can't risk getting caught." The man clasped his last finger around his neck, and immediately, the skin on his body began to dissolve into the air, revealing the flesh of his neck. As the man continued to grasp his neck, his quirk continued to eat away at it. Fear washed over the worker as tears of pain fell down his cheeks. Eventually, the worker's neck was completely gone, and his decapitated head fell to the ground. The man had gotten a small amount of blood on his hand and began to check his black hoodie for any sort of stains. Once he was sure that he was spotless, he crouched down and used his quirk to get rid of the body and head completely. As they finished dissipating into thin air, the man stood back up and turned to the forest that protected the prison.

"Kurogiri, I trust you took out the cameras?" as he spoke into the night, a man in a suit materialized in a purple mist while walking towards him. His head and hands continued flowing with the purple mist, and yellow glowing eyes sat above a metal neck brace.

"Of course, Shigaraki. Everything is going as planned," he responded. "Though I still don't understand why you want to go through all the trouble of helping this man to escape prison when he's clearly dispensable." Shigaraki rolled his red eyes under his shaggy blue hair.

"Because he still has a debt to Master that needs to be repaid." Kurogiri nodded and put his hand out, a portal forming only a few inches to his left. Shigaraki made his way towards the portal when the purple mist grabbed his arm.

"Remember, you can't be in there for too long. If we run out of time, I'm closing the portal whether you come back or not."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure it won't take much convincing," Shigaraki reassured him as he walked through the portal. Everything went black for a moment before he walked out through the other side of the portal into a seemingly empty prison cell. There was a single bed with only a green mattress and a toilet next to it. The cell door was more reinforced than he had initially thought. The walls were a slate gray and no windows blessed the cell with any light. In the corner of the room, amidst the shadows, stood a man with unruly black hair and green eyes. He had broad shoulders, which sent a small shiver of fear down Shigaraki's spine. Fear was not an option. Shigaraki took a few small steps into the cell and snickered as he looked around.

"This is a lovely home you have here! How long have you been saving for it?" he asked grimly. The man stopped leaning on the corner and emerged from the shadows.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked in a deep raspy voice. Shigaraki smiled.

"Oh, me? I'm just a lowly villain here to let you know that you still have a debt to pay to my master, mister Hisashi Midoriya."

"You still haven't answered my other question."

"I never answered either actually, so shut your mouth and let me speak." Hisashi frowned. "I am Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the League of Villains," he stated, sarcasm in his voice. "You owe my master something, and to repay your debt, he wants you to come work for me."

"What's in it for me?"

"Well for one, you get to leave this god-forsaken place. Doesn't that sound nice?" Hisashi seemed disgruntled, to say the least. "And for two," he continued. "I'll let you kill the little brat that got you in here," Hisashi's eyes lit with a flame of hatred.

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"That's the spirit. Now come on, we don't have all day," Shigaraki finished. That wasn't as hard as I thought. Shigaraki stepped back through the portal, watching as Hisashi followed closely behind. As he emerged back outside, he felt a sense of relief flood over him. Kurogiri was in the same place as when he left, and he closed the portal as Hisashi walked out behind him.

"Are we finished here?" Kurogiri asked.

"I'd say so. I see this as an absolute win!" he exclaimed. Hisashi released a grunt of annoyance. Shigaraki chose to ignore this and looked over to him, a ghoulish smirk plastered onto his abnormally pale face. Despite the somber darkness, the faint glow of the city polluted a portion of his face, and Hisashi shuddered, averting his eyes. "Now," he continued, clapping his hands together, "Why don't we get a move-on?"

Kurogiri's head was entirely made of the purple mist, however, his yellow glowing eyes squinted as though he were furrowing his eyebrows at the blue-haired man-child. "Yes, let's." A portal opened next to him with the flick of a hand, and the two scoundrels stepped into the gateway. As they vanished through the portal, it closed, and Kurogiri's body spiraled into nothingness. About one-hundred-thirty-five miles away, a ways off the coast of Iwaki, another portal opened. Hisashi stepped out of the portal first, his abrupt fear forcing him to stop for a second, as he, at first, couldn't feel any sort of floor on his feet. Soon, the hazy purple-ish black mist began to fall away from his body, finally giving him a chance to look around.

The room was dark, yet, dimly lit not just by Kurogiri's glowing yellow eyes, but also by the light of a few candles burning softly on a shelf behind the cluster-fuck of purple mist. The room seemed to be some sort of abandoned bar, with an assortment of old bottles of wine on the shelves, five barstools lined at the counter in front of Kurogiri (one of which Shigaraki was sitting on already), and some promotional posters that had been ripped from the walls. He turned to look at the portal behind him, only to realize it had already vanished. He turned back to the two, Shigaraki now staring at him.

"C'mon, take a seat!" Shigaraki exclaimed, "I don't bite." He grinned, his severely chapped lips making themselves known to him. Though Hisashi had a rather muscular build, his demeanor was hesitant, which Tomura understood. Hisashi's escape had happened in a matter of minutes, anybody would be in a daze. Hisashi sauntered over to the stool next to him, still trying to wrap his head around his escape. How did they prevent the alarms from going off? How did they remain undetected the entire time they were there? They had to at least kill one officer to prevent getting caught. Not that he could detest them for doing so, considering he was also guilty of such a crime.

Hisashi sat down on the leather seat, the eerily-lit bar sending a chill down his spine. He rested his arms on the bar, leaning over them. It was a habit of his, always forcing his weight onto something, have it be leaning on a wall, table, or whatever else he could lean on. He looked down at his wrist. An aged tattoo was ingrained onto his skin. Though faint, he could still see the remnants of his last wife's name.

The damned bitch never knew when to shut up. She would probably still be alive if she'd have learned that sooner. Never trust a woman with your secrets.

Reflecting on his past misdeeds, it was no sooner than he had found out that Inko had told a co-worker of his past exchanges with that strange faceless man than he had grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed her to death. Though he was charged with second-degree murder, there was no doubt in his mind he should have been charged for first-degree. He had sworn an oath. He had sworn that anyone who wasn't involved with the strange man and found out about him was to be killed.

That co-worker needs to be taken care of. Shigaraki's raspy voice broke him from his trance.

"You seem tense. Loosen up a little!" Kurogiri scoffed to himself as he handed the blue-haired psycho a small glass of rather aged wine. Shigaraki took a sip, eyeing him from the side of the glass. Hisashi turned his gaze back to the bar table where a similar glass was sitting in front of him. Kurogiri loomed over him, leaning on his misty purple hands as they sat on either side of the glass.

"C'mon, you're one of us," he invited. "Have a drink." Hisashi looked at the glass with dull eyes. The familiar golden liquid gave him a split-second pang of regret. Only a small fraction of himself felt that remorse. He took the glass into his hand and took it like a shot, the wine burning his throat on the way down. It was the sting he knew and loved. The sting he was addicted to. The sting that fueled his rage.