Detroit.
Motor City.
The scummiest place on the planet.
Upon its inception several generations ago, the 'Quirk phenomena' had been something that many civilized countries thought that they'd be able to address without change. The idea was that they could treat it like a disease or any other such blight upon the face of the planet by method of quarantines and discrimination against those with supernatural abilities. But as years went on and the population of those with a vast assortment of powers continued to rise, the very presence of a large minority of people with 'Quirks' necessitated a societal change.
Entire power structures that had been forged over centuries needed to be overhauled to accommodate and eventually make use of their supernatural kin and their rapid expansion in every corner of the globe. The process took decades and lifetimes to get to the point it was now, yet villains still felt the need to run amuck in society while heroes fought to uphold the status quo no matter the cost.
Meridia's hometown was no different.
Detroit followed the same laws as every other city and state in America these days. It strictly prohibited the casual use of potentially dangerous Quirks in public spaces while occasionally making an odd exception here or there for more benign powers. The difference in potential danger between someone propelling themselves through the sky to work with supersonic kicks and another person merely picking up their phone with some clever telekinesis was rather vast, after all. That danger level was one reason among many that only those with a hero license were permitted ever to use their Quirks in public. Heroes were meant to protect the people from harm at the hands of either themselves or others – anyone who placed people at unnecessary risk through their actions would be branded either a villain or a vigilante.
And vigilantism was not something many people smiled upon. Perhaps when Quirks first came into being, some vigilantes had set the stage for what the career of a hero would one day look like, but recent legislation had made the states' perspective on its citizens taking justice into their own hands very clear. Anyone caught performing vigilante work faced a hefty fine at best or an inordinate amount of jail time for their deeds at worst. Whether or not that federal law's being passed was a good thing…
In Meridia's opinion, that one was up for debate.
She needed only to touch the bruise forming over her eye to know that.
All her life, heroes really weren't all they were hyped up to be. Society may have wanted to tote them as paragons of virtue that'd always be around to save those that found themselves in need of a savior just in the nick of time, but the reality wasn't like something you'd find depicted in a comic book. Society was saturated with heroes, but there hadn't ever been enough heroes on patrol to stop every crime before it happened or escalated into something more severe. Meridia had found that out through several personal experiences in the past.
Today offered her yet another such experience. As usual, she had made the decision to mind her own business on her way home from school. She'd plugged in her earbuds to escape into some music as she trudged along broken sidewalks and dirty streets, trying to assume that today would be another day she'd return home unharmed.
But only a minute after the metal fence of her school fell out of sight, she was reminded why she should've never fooled herself into thinking her safety was a given.
A lanky pile of trash masquerading as a human being assailed her before she could even think to defend herself. The man demanded money, only to resort to violence when she shouted out the truth that she had none. Relentlessly beating her down in retribution, he then stole away with the only thing she'd had – her meager set of school supplies. It was everything Meridia could do to simply curl up in a ball and wait until the ordeal was over. Her past run-ins with petty thugs had helped her develop a will and l instinct just to keep sane, and more importantly, alive.
Ignoring the sting of her several cuts, Meridia struggled to her feet. With a wince, she adjusted the straps of her dirtied backpack. None of what had happened gave her any hope that Detroit would ever change. It'd always be a perfect example of what any city should try its damnedest not to look like – a dangerous, filthy, poorly maintained mess of an urban sprawl that only barely managed to continue operating through sheer dumb luck and the crusted duct tape that was the force of the city's police and heroes combined.
She'd been born close to fifteen years ago and had spent her life in Detroit for just as long, and she hated every second she breathed in this city's putrid air. Every day she became even more aware of the rot that had long since taken root in her hometown.
Her only refuge from the outside world was the dilapidated apartment building that she called home. Once she reached it, Meridia ascended the few steps as quickly as her bruised legs could carry her. She fished out the key to her family's quaint apartment and heaved a sigh of relief when the lock turned, and she was able to push the door open.
She was aware that it wasn't much of a nice place to live. Decayed wallpaper with patched-up holes covered the walls while the whole place smelled faintly of the same misery as the rest of the city. Her mother warded off the smell as best she could with cheap scented candles and fought with everything she had to keep the wooden floors and what little furniture the Lucas family owned clean. A small kitchen stood to the left side of the sparsely furnished space they called their living room, and out of the corner of her uninjured eye she detected movement there, but she decided to ignore it, for now.
It wasn't much, but at least here she didn't have to fear for her safety every time she wanted to just shut her eyes and breathe for a second.
"Oh! Meridia, you're back!" Ellen exclaimed from the kitchen, her attention divided between her daughter and the meal she was preparing. "Welcome home!"
Meridia dropped her backpack near the front door, trudging to the living room. "Thanks, mom."
"I hope school wasn't too boring for you." Ellen continued. "I know you told me that since summer is on the horizon a lot of people have been phoning it in lately."
"School wasn't too bad today." Meridia plopped down onto the worn leather couch. "There were a few obnoxious guys who tried to derail things in science, but they got shut down before they could ruin everything. No group activities either, so no one could drag me down. For once."
Her mother exhaled. "Well, that's good to hear, I suppose. Dinner will be ready soon – chicken parmesan."
"Really?"
Ellen smiled. "I know it's your favorite. It's the least I can do. We'll be eating as soon as it's done. Lucian won't be home until later tonight. Probably after you go to sleep."
Meridia's brow quirked up. "Why? Wasn't Dad supposed to get off early today?"
"He was, but he decided to pick up some overtime hours since your birthday's coming up," Ellen explained.
"He doesn't have to do that for me," she mumbled.
"Honey, he wants to," Ellen insisted as she finished the preparation of their meal with one last sprinkle of cheese. "Of course, he also got a promotion recently, so he figures it'd be in his best interest to get some of that training done right away and get a little deeper into his manager's good graces while he's at it."
She paused. "Oh. That's good, I guess."
Ellen rinsed off her hands and turned in her daughter's direction. "Meridia, you sound tired. Did something- oh my god!"
When her mother's cry of shock hit her ears, Meridia couldn't do anything except stare solemnly at the floor. She wanted to avoid the pained look that must have appeared on her mother's face for as long as possible. "Sorry."
After hastily snatching an ice pack from the freezer and a nearby first-aid kit, Ellen scurried over to her daughter, a visible tightness in her throat. "No, no! Don't apologize! Just tell me what happened. Here, take this ice pack. It'll make the swelling go down."
Meridia did as she was told. "It was just some asshole."
"Language!" Ellen admonished with a slight squeeze of her daughter's arm. She then returned to the task of applying a bandage to one of her many cuts, deflating a little. "But… what did they want? How did this happen? Where are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Meridia insisted, but she couldn't keep the note of annoyance out of her voice. "I'm a little beat up, is all. I didn't have any money for the guy to take so he decided to hit me and take my school stuff before he bolted. I'm fine."
Her lip quivered. "This isn't fine! You're my daughter, my baby girl! You deserve to be safe on your way home from school, you deserve-"
"To be saved by some hero?" she finished bitterly.
Ellen wavered for a moment just before she applied another bandage. "Yes."
"Well, I wasn't saved. No surprises there."
"Honey…"
Meridia snapped her gaze up to meet her mother's, only to immediately regret it. Her mother's eyes had welled with tears on the verge of escape, and the sight made her heart ache, but she pressed on. "No, it's true! America's called the 'hero capital of the world' but every hero where we live isn't worth anything! They've never saved me! They've never saved us."
"But…" Ellen shook her head slightly, as if to buy herself time to think. "This next year's batch of Pro Heroes looks promising. Maybe once there's a few of them around in Detroit, things will change. It's a possibility, right?"
"Last time I checked, none of the ones that are worth anything are from here," Meridia said, pressing the ice pack tighter against her eye. "And the way I see it, no hero in their right mind in this whole country would bother coming here when there's a dozen other cities they could make their agencies in. Cities that'd give them good pay and cushy jobs. Not like here, where they'd have to make an effort to make things better for us."
Ellen applied a final bandage and closed the first aid kit. She gingerly raised a hand and guided her daughter's arm that was occupied with the ice pack down to her side before she cupped both her hands around Meridia's cheeks. "I know. All of what you just said, I know. But we'll replace your school supplies right away. And … is there anything else we can do for you? For your birthday, maybe? Lucian's promotion is going to make our lives a lot easier, so maybe we can get you something nice. We haven't been able to give you everything you deserve for a long time now, but now we can."
Her throat tightened. "Mom, no. You guys don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."
"Even so…" Ellen's thumb stroked her cheek. "After everything you've been through, you deserve it. I don't know if we'll be able to get you something extravagant like some fancy computer or phone, but we'll make sure it can be something good. Perfume? New clothes?"
Meridia tried to give her mother a smile, but it came out forced. "I don't know about that kind of stuff, but there is one thing I'd really want for my birthday. Two things, actually, but… either one would be enough."
"It'll depend on how much these things are, but maybe we'll be able to get you both. What are they, exactly?"
"Self-defense courses and a gym membership," Meridia answered. "I don't want to be the same helpless little girl I've always been. If heroes aren't going to come and save me, then I want to be able to save myself."
Her mother leaned forward and held her daughter against her chest in a tight embrace. Meridia felt a tear soak into her shirt when she spoke up again. "Then we'll make it happen. If that's what you really want for your birthday, I promise you that we'll make that happen. I love you, sweetheart."
Slowly, she raised her arms to hold her mother a little closer. "I love you too, Mom."
Meridia's fifteenth birthday came and went, and her mother was true to her word. While she was often at school and therefore wasn't privy to whatever conversations her parents may have had behind closed doors, she knew that in the weeks leading up to her birthday they'd planned out every detail of how they'd be able to make ends meet. Meridia knew all too well that with her request to add yet another monthly expense to her parents' list that she'd make their lives a little harder, but she quickly gathered that her father's promotion had indeed turned out to be a godsend. They didn't have enough extra cash to move into a better apartment or buy some new furniture, but it was enough that they wouldn't have to worry about going hungry or an unexpected bill bringing them close to financial ruin.
Thus, her birthday was met with an almost alien degree of pleasantness. Her parents were able to afford a cake, had the time to prepare a nice dinner, and even bought Meridia some clothes they insisted she 'needed' in addition to the memberships she'd desired. The gifts she received weren't luxurious enough to justify the concerns she felt as she opened them, but that didn't stop her from feeling some guilt at the number of nice things she'd been given.
Honestly, when her father told her that they weren't going to face any financial trouble because of what they bought her, it took Meridia some time to wrap her head around the idea that he was telling her the truth. All her life she'd been used to the idea of casually cutting away at her own selfish desires, and suddenly she'd been told that she was now allowed to let herself want things, for a change. That simple notion was almost too much for her to grasp.
But while she took the time to process all that, the school year finally came to an end, and Meridia took her self-defense and physical training to a whole different level. She found that the moments she felt the most alive were when she sparred with some boys who thought they could overpower her only to find themselves pinned down moments later. When she saw visible muscle definition in her abdomen and along her arms, her self-confidence soared to heights she'd never felt before.
Meridia had known she'd been making progress before, but only a few weeks after summer fell into full swing, she felt ready to take on the world. She relished in that sensation for days before she fully committed to what she knew she'd have to do next.
She'd never elaborated on why she wanted what she did for her birthday. Not really. She'd told Ellen that she wanted to be her own hero and sold herself on numerous other practical reasons whenever Lucian made small talk with his daughter. That initial reason, among the others she used to explain away her choice in gifts, couldn't be called untrue either. She did want to be her own hero, she did want to be capable of protecting herself from the occasional thug.
But she had other motives that drove her decision, too.
After an exhausting day spent at the gym, and a long shower after, Meridia promptly wrapped a plush towel around herself and made for her room. Outside her window, night had only just fallen outside the city, although she didn't pay the sparse few stars much mind. Instead, she made a few final pats down her body before letting the towel fall beneath her.
Without a care concerning her temporary exposure, she then stood before her closet and slid open the doors to reveal the outfit she had assembled. Black sweatpants and a matching long-sleeved shirt, followed by all-black sneakers and a set of fingerless gloves. She tied her golden blonde hair in a tight ponytail to minimize the risk that her long hair posed and did some final stretches before she'd decide to set out. The only extra item she'd carefully hidden away stayed in the closet for now.
Her hometown sickened her, this was nothing new. Police officers always seemed as ineffective as heroes when both agents of law enforcement weren't around to support one another through every instance of criminal activity. Hero capital of the world or not, so far as Meridia was aware, the heroes raised in America tended to be so scattershot that their quality only plummeted further each and every year. Throw in the fact that there were so many heroes in the country that were strictly obsessed with airtime and their public image rather than the lives of those whose safety they were supposed to prioritize, and Meridia could only feel contempt for the hero society she found herself born into.
But if the world wouldn't make an effort to protect people like her, she'd defend herself and as many people who'd otherwise become victims as she could. Someone had to try and fix this city.
What she was about to do would be classified as vigilante work, and Meridia knew full well what consequences she would face if she was caught taking the law into her own hands. Even so, she'd made up her mind weeks ago that this was simply something she had to do. She couldn't let countless innocent boys and girls like her continue to be victimized without the hope of their assailants being punished, nor could she let those same assailants walk around freely without fear of what wrath their actions would bring down upon them. Perhaps Meridia could be called a fool for thinking that she alone could make a difference in Detroit, but she'd never accept such a statement to be true. She'd strive to become the embodiment of the change she wished to see in her hometown, no matter what that meant for herself.
Besides, with her physical training, self-defense courses, and the free use of her Quirk at her disposal without the constraints of law holding her back, Meridia knew that she might very well be able to prevent any lasting marks from betraying what she'd be doing.
As a bonus, this self-assigned mission wouldn't merely become a boon that only those she sought to protect would benefit from. Meridia harbored her own dreams and aspirations, just like everyone else on the planet. Before she'd become jaded to heroes nowadays and came to understand how financially impossible her chances to become one were, she even wanted to be one of them. Now that she'd resolved herself to vigilantism, though… she found herself in the position to pursue one of her desires freely.
Fame.
She wanted to be famous. Not only famous, she wanted to be well and truly than the 'number one hero' in America, Captain Celebrity, she wanted to achieve a level of name recognition that no one in the vigilante world had ever garnered before. Disassociated from the likes of the heroes she so detested, through the power of the name that she'd chosen to credit for her actions as a vigilante, that recognition would serve as a light. One that civilians would speak of in their awed conversations and villains would only dare whisper for fear of her wrath falling down upon them.
Maybe these aspirations were unreasonable or naive of her to believe in, but she didn't care. She made a vow to herself that dawn would break in her hometown.
No matter what she had to do.
Meridia finished her stretches and double-checked to make sure she'd locked her bedroom door. She returned to her closet and retrieved the most easily-procured yet important piece of the puzzle that was her vigilante outfit – a steel pipe. It wasn't all that fancy a weapon, but she'd need one if she wanted to make her message clear. She stood and turned toward her window.
It was time to make her debut.
Despite the many, many vulnerabilities and setbacks someone in Detroit could expect if they were unfortunate enough to be born with two x chromosomes, being a girl still gave her some power to exploit. Guys would ogle or holler from across the street if they so much as caught a glimpse of her sometimes, which on paper would seem like an annoyance at best. But there were also opportunities in those instances that Meridia found she could exploit a man's instinctual stupidity, if she was subtle about it. Since most of a man's thinking would be elsewhere occupied whenever they were in the proximity of her, that often meant that they'd be too stupid to notice what she was doing.
Take her assailant from a few weeks ago, for instance. He may not have seemed like the type of person who thought with his lower half first and his brain second, but he was still subject to the same weaknesses Meridia saw in so many other men. He beat her down and assumed he'd broken her spirit when she didn't get back up, but his arrogance and sense of superiority over her made him miss the fact Meridia had been memorizing every detail of his appearance.
If she wanted to clean up her hometown, then she couldn't help but think that there'd be no better place for her to start than by teaching the same rat bastard who'd crossed her a lesson.
Ever since his initial assault against her, she'd kept an eye out for him whenever she was out in the city. In doing so, she'd been able to develop an idea of where he tended to wander around each day. Meridia wasn't foolish enough to dare go deep into gang territory on her first mission, but she at least had enough foresight to gather the information she'd need to track down the guy. Thanks to that foresight, she understood that he didn't live with the rest of his scumbag friends deep inside their little gang's territory.
Which made the task she'd come out tonight to complete that much easier.
She carefully kept her steps light and as soundless as she could manage as she walked on the other side of the road to her target. He remained a solid few dozen feet ahead of her, his attention firmly fixed to his phone as he meandered his way home, just as Meridia had expected. With no prey available to him, the lanky bastard made the same mistake she had and assumed he would find safety in his silence and seeming isolation. His prehensile rat's tail trailed behind him as he turned down an alleyway, and she saw her opportunity to strike.
Her steps sped up to close the gap between them before he could escape the long alley he'd entered, only for her to slow down and hide near one of the buildings at the entrance. Confident in her skills or not, she needed to confirm that she still had the element of surprise on her side if she wanted to make absolutely sure her first mission would be a success.
It appeared that she'd gone unnoticed by her target, and she gave him one last look-over to make sure he was unarmed. He wore navy jeans with no noticeable bulges in their pockets to indicate he had any weapons, and with his choice of shirt being a dirty tank top, the probability he'd pull a knife out of his sleeve was zero – the only thing she had to worry about was the unknown nature of his Quirk.
All she'd been able to gather about it from her brush with him before was that it endowed him with the appearance of a rat. His mouth was elongated with four incisors built for gnawing, a thin layer of mangy fur covered his body, and his tail was oddly prehensile despite its obvious rodent origins and influence. It was the part of him that would likely prove to be the most troublesome for her to deal with, but she had her Quirk to fall back on if things got dicey.
He was one-third of the way down the alleyway, now. If she wanted to strike, now was the time.
So she did.
With flagrant disregard for any noise she made at this point, she sprang from her hiding spot around the corner and made a dash for her target. Her grip on her steel pipe tightened and she kept her body tense so that she might either attack or defend at a moment's notice. As she closed in the final few feet between them, the man's ratlike ears twitched.
He started to turn. "What the hell- whoa!"
Meridia lashed out with a brutal swing aimed for his head, only to miss as the man narrowly stepped aside and careened back into the brick wall of the alleyway to dodge. She skidded to a halt and turned on her heel to face her target, the look on her face dark.
"Oh, you want to go, motherfucker?" he shouted. "I'll go! Come at me!"
"Gladly."
Another burst of movement followed her statement. She jabbed her weapon forward at his abdomen to try and coax him into using one of his arms to bat it aside, and he took the bait. His other arm came around to try and deliver a devastating punch to Meridia's face, but she ducked under his fist and carried her momentum forward. Once more she stopped on her heel but spun around as she did so to rebuild some more speed for her next attack, and her pipe followed her with such force that her opponent nearly doubled over as it connected with his back. Immediately after that, his tail slapped harshly against the ground, and Meridia hopped back a step to escape its potential range.
Her mark turned to face her, his lip curled in a silent snarl. "You little shit. That actually hurt. You ain't gonna get away with that."
"Actually, I think I will," Meridia said dryly.
His fists tightened. "Feisty piece of trash, ain't ya? See how long that lasts when you lose a few teeth. I'll show you what happens when you pick a fight with me!"
Meridia kept her cool when her opponent sprang into action. He'd only suffered a single hit and was already on the verge of a tantrum. She may have not been able to end the fight before it began, but she could easily make him tunnel-vision and turn his frustration into a tool that'd assist in her triumph.
He ran at her, his fists at his sides until he closed the distance, at which point he threw his arms forward one after another to deliver a pair of punches. Meridia leaned to the left to make the first miss her head and stepped back once to make his follow-up aimed at her side hit open air. As his arm completed its swing, she took advantage of the short range her weapon gave her and delivered a swift strike to his shoulder that earned a shout of discomfort from him.
The attack proved insufficient to slow him down, but still provided Meridia another advantage in his growing temper. At the same time Meridia pulled her weapon back to her side, he continued the offensive with an easily read one-handed smash that he probably anticipated would cave in her skull completely. Meridia only had to twist around his side to avoid it, and her opponent's fist shot down like a sledgehammer while her steel pipe flew with just as much speed toward his head. The pipe let out a muffled metallic thwack as it met its mark, and her old assailant was sent into a desperate struggle to stay on his feet as he stumbled into the brick wall of the alleyway.
When his fingers touched the back of his head, they came back covered with blood. His yellow eyes glowered furiously as he pushed himself upright. "You little cunt… you'll beg for mercy when I'm done with you! Hold still, goddamnit!"
His tail sharpened like a living needle and extended to unanticipated lengths as it flew around to try and stab Meridia in the side of her neck, but she countered her opponent's Quirk with her own. A barrier appeared and vanished in an instant mere inches from where his tail would've met its mark, causing his pencil-thin appendage to bounce off harmlessly in another direction before he could even process what happened.
"The hell-"
Meridia's fist forcefully smashed into the side of his elongated muzzle and cut his sentence short. The man cried out as blood ran from the fresh cut on his lip that his own teeth had torn, but she knew she should keep up the pressure. He threw his fist forward in another telegraphed punch that Meridia once again stepped around, and she punished her target again with a brutal swing of her pipe to the back of his leg as she completed the motion. He let out an angered yell but followed after her by twisting on his good leg to throw a haymaker at her head.
But she was prepared.
A sharp shout of anguish echoed through the alleyway when Meridia slammed her steel pipe directly into her quarry's wrist. His hand twisted at an odd angle and he reeled back in shock when his arm completed the arcing motion he'd started, at which point Meridia took advantage of the apparent lack of attention he spared on his opponent. While he was busy huffing heavy breaths to recover and held his broken wrist close to his chest, she darted forward and stomped on his tail. He howled like an enraged bull in response, and Meridia knew she was on the cusp of complete triumph.
She almost didn't need to pay attention to anticipate him throwing a punch at her with the only good hand he had left. As a result, she didn't bother to remove her foot from its place on his tail, and she instead avoided his attack with a sudden crouch.
Followed by a brutal jab from her free hand directly into his gut.
The poor bastard let out a wheeze so harsh that Meridia knew she didn't have to continue her assault. She took a step back after she lifted her foot from the tail. His breaths came out uneasy and shallow as he tried and failed to recover, and his attempt to stand only led him to fall flat on his rear end against the alleyway's other wall. Only a few weeks ago he must have felt so much better than everyone he chose to mug, like he simply couldn't be stopped so long as he chose his victims wisely.
Oh, how the tables had turned.
"What's the matter?" Meridia said. Her normally warm blue eyes gazed down upon him with a cold, calculated menace. "I thought you were going to make me beg for mercy? Or that you weren't going to let me get away with attacking you? Funny, how all that confidence you had went right out the window once some random girl with a metal pipe managed to land a few good hits on you."
"Fuck you. You got lucky," he puffed.
"Luck has nothing to do with it," she asserted, her grip on her weapon tightening. "You fought like an animal and lost to a fifteen-year-old girl. Must be pretty embarrassing."
He then made the unwise decision of using his unbroken arm to point at her. "Listen, lady, either do what you musta come here to do or suck my-"
Merida crashed her weapon into his wrist again. She didn't feel a thing when he screamed.
"Fuck… fuck!" he whimpered. "That was my good arm! How the shit am I gonna get outta here with two useless hands!?"
"Maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to piss me off," Meridia casually explained. She hooked the end of her pipe beneath his chin and tilted his head around to look at her again. "But broken wrists won't be the only thing you'll have to worry about if you don't play your cards right from here on out. I'm not done with you yet. Got me?"
Fear manifested in his eyes. "Y-yeah…"
"Good." She lowered her weapon, but remained ready for action at a moment's notice. Victory was hers, but in the absence of the need to focus on their fight, she felt a wave of hatred bubble up as she stared down at him. "Tell me your name."
"Victor!" he shouted. "It's Victor."
Meridia crouched down in front of him. "Funny name, given what just happened to you."
He bit his lip, as if to stifle a venomous retort. "Yeah, s-sure, but… who're you?"
"You're really asking that…" she whispered to herself. She let out a sound of disgust and punched him in the face before her hand shot toward his hair and tugged to force his eyes to her again, a look of coldhearted fury on her face. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't know who I am."
Victor's beady yellow eyes widened. "Oh, shit. Y-you're that girl! From a few weeks ago!"
"I am." She released her grip and stood, but neither her rage nor his fearful tension faded as she contemplated how to finish her first mission. "You know, you sit on your high horse and pretend to be superior to every poor person you manage to attack without consequences, only to whimper and cower in front of the first person who manages to put you in your place. You disgust me."
Victor's breaths became heavy and unsteady as he grew visibly more nervous. All semblance of the cockiness he once flagrantly displayed now laid superbly stripped away, and Victor's true self was revealed to be the same miserable vermin his Quirk made him look like.
Meridia gripped her weapon with both hands, determined to make an example of him. "But at least you did one good thing with your sorry ass."
"What?" he asked.
Much to his dismay, she prepared to strike. "You made me."
Like a professional softball player, Meridia swung her pipe like a bat into Victor's jaw.
He wouldn't eat solid food again for months.
Meridia left Victor unconscious in the alleyway. Given her triumph and the satisfaction she felt bloom in her chest, she chose to interpret the absence of any others as a sign of approval from above. A sign that even though she'd have to stick to shadows to make sure she didn't get caught and consistently hone her ability to use the element of surprise to her benefit, that the actions she would assign herself each night were righteous. Even if others wouldn't see her actions in the same light, Meridia knew that what she was doing was the only option. Heroes and police did nothing to keep the criminals of her hometown from ruling the streets, night and day.
So she'd inspire fear in those same criminals. Slow start or not, she'd make sure that her desire for change in Detroit and her personal pursuit of fame met nothing but success. She'd work herself to the bone to constantly improve as a fighter and a vigilant menace to those who sought to suck the life out of the downtrodden citizens of this city.
They didn't know her name yet, but they would, and they would learn to fear it.
Dawnbreaker.
Snipe had only been away from his homeland for a few years, but the invisible pull of both morbid curiosity and a strong longing sensation in his heart started drawing him back to Detroit not too long after he graduated from U.A. High School. He'd been in possession of his Pro Hero license for a handful of years now and had proven such an effective sidekick that many business agents were already approaching him with a wide variety of offers to open his own agency, but Snipe couldn't help but feel the need to reject them all. To him, it didn't matter if he graduated with top marks and had praise and opportunity rain down on him from all angles. He couldn't put into words what it was that he thought he was missing, but he honestly hoped that a visit home would provide him a solution to the unquantifiable 'something' he felt he'd lacked throughout his brief Pro Hero career.
So he took the initiative to satisfy his heart's desire and perhaps get to the bottom of the hollow sensation that crept underneath his skin when he was all alone. He requested vacation time from his superior and flew home to an airport near his hometown so that he'd have some time to take in some old sights as he made his way to Detroit proper. He had only barely emerged from the taxi when he recognized how utterly wrong his hometown looked.
Despite the gas mask he wore alongside the rest of his costume, it was clear that Detroit had somehow degraded since he last saw it. He stood only a few blocks away from where the rest of his family had told them they'd moved after he left for Japan, but he had known every nook and cranny of the street he now stared at. Where once there were intact streetlamps with fresh black paint, now there were stumps of steel and broken bulbs. Where once the sidewalk was smooth, now it lay cracked and jutted out above the ground at odd angles. The visible decay stretched on so far that Snipe almost couldn't believe that he was standing on one of the same streets he'd frequented so often a few years ago.
On a whim, he set out in the opposite direction of his family's residence. Though he was eager to see his folks again in the flesh for the first time in years, the urge to wander and adjust to the familiar yet foreign sights and sounds of modern Detroit was too much for him to resist. Before he knew it, his hand drifted to the grip of the modified pistol he kept beneath his cloak, as if his hero instincts expected a crime to occur nearby.
Somehow, that single absentminded action was what made him realize how much further into the depths of depravity his hometown had fallen. The fact that his body decided to distrust the same place he'd spent his formative years carried with it more impact than the sight of some decrepit or decayed-looking buildings ever could.
So maybe that invisible tug he felt before could've been some kind of mission his subconscious set him on to witness the degradation of his hometown for himself. He didn't know yet if the mere sight of the city's present state of being would be enough to satisfy the hollow sensation beneath his skin, but it was a start. Any good investigation had to start somewhere, and he had a hunch that he'd get to the bottom of why he flew across an ocean only to immediately prolong the amount of time it took before he saw his family again.
He just hoped that this hunch of his would pay off sooner rather than later. He had too many ties and too much to do back in Japan to stay here forever.
His ear pricked at the sound of an elderly male gasp of surprise somewhere on the other side of the road. He whirled around to the sight of a poor old man almost being pushed to the ground and a devilish, red-skinned woman dressed in short shorts and a crop top making a beeline for the end of the road, the man's presumed wallet in hand. The crime that had just occurred was as typical as it was obvious.
He didn't have to hesitate.
Each of his digits snapped onto their familiar spots along the grip of his pistol, and he whipped it out. With smooth efficiency brought about by hundreds of hours of experience, Snipe's eyes widened beneath his mask as he set his sights on the scantily clad criminal. Easy incapacitation.
Four smooth shots announced his intervention, and a quick activation of his Quirk had them home in on their targets with exceptional ease. Two shots struck her square in the center of each foot while the second pair sailed through each of her forearms.
She fell to the ground with a cry. Snipe holstered his weapon and swiftly strode across the street while his other hand tapped at a gadget on his belt that would alert any nearby ambulances to his location. His knowledge of human anatomy assured that his target wouldn't bleed out, but that was only a given if medical attention arrived in time to assist. The girl hardly had the strength leftover to hiss out much more than an indecipherable insult at him when he bent over to pick up the victim's wallet, saving it before it became bloodstained forevermore.
Snipe extended his arm toward the old man as he caught up. "Sorry for the scare, partner. I believe this wallet here belonged to you."
"Y-yeah…" he took the proffered object. "But… who are you? Are you a new hero?"
"Could say that. Just flew in from overseas. I'll only be in town for a little while, but I've already got a good few years of experience under my belt." Snipe gestured for the man to walk around the criminal that laid on the sidewalk. "It'd probably be for the best if you moseyed on outta here now, though. Less trouble for you that way."
He nodded. "Of course! Thank you again!"
"My pleasure. Stay safe out there." Snipe tipped his cowboy hat and the elderly man continued on his way, at which point he looked down at the criminal he'd taken down. "I recommend you hold still until help gets here, kid. Don't want you bleedin' out because you just want to cause more trouble for the rest of us."
"Screw you," she spat. "That geezer's on his last legs anyway, so what's the big deal if he loses a few bucks to someone who'll actually live long enough to use it?"
"Deal's pretty simple, actually," Snipe said. "It didn't belong to you to begin with, so you don't have a right to take it. I'm sure you know how the law works by now, kid."
Several sirens sounded in the distance. In less than a minute, Snipe stood tall and waved for the ambulance he'd called and its accompanying police car. While the pair of vehicles swiftly made their way toward him and eventually began to decelerate, another new set of footsteps sounded behind him. He turned to face the newcomer.
The familiar face of an off-duty officer of the law greeted him. Clad in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his well-groomed beard and the gelled-back hair atop his head were features that easily let Snipe recognize the same man he so often saw on patrol years ago.
That, and the revolver in his grip that he wouldn't be caught dead without.
"Captain Benson," Snipe greeted. "Just took care of a petty theft for you. Called an ambulance once my shots hit their mark, and the victim of the crime is unharmed and should be making his way home as we speak. The situation's under control."
"I… see that." Benson paused. "I ran over here as quick as I could when I heard gunfire. That was you, I assume."
Both paramedics and a pair of officers emerged from their vehicles, and Snipe stepped away from the wounded thief so as not to stop them from going about their jobs. "That it was. These ain't my normal stomping grounds, but I figured I might as well step in. Not like I had anything else to do, right now."
"Right. Thank you for your help, then, I'll be sure to-" Benson stopped himself short as he caught a glimpse of his hair. His lips tilted up in realization. "Wait a second! You called me by my name, and I know those dreads anywhere! You're-"
Snipe politely raised his hand to interrupt. "Snipe, right now. Might not be called a hero around these parts, but I've still got my hero license and an identity I'd much rather prefer to keep a secret while I'm in costume."
Benson holstered his weapon. "Say no more. I understand completely. Still… you really went ahead and traveled all the way over to Japan to become a hero. I almost can't believe it. Feels like just yesterday I saw you on your way home from school talking to your friends about how you were thinking about going pro. Time flies."
"Ain't that the truth." Snipe smiled.
That touch of happiness was short-lived. Behind him, he heard the thief groan as the paramedics wrapped some initial bandages tightly around her wounds to staunch the bleeding, and he was reminded of yet another change his hometown had gone through. He couldn't remember a time when Detroit wasn't a place where you had to mind yourself if you wanted to avoid turning into a target, but… crimes such as the one he just stopped had never been done so casually in front of others back then. There would always be a spotter, someone to act as the muscle if things went wrong, and the person who did the mugging would almost always be more observant than to steal from someone when a hero stood in broad daylight just across the street. Snipe couldn't beat around the bush any longer.
"How's the city holdin' up these days?"
Benson sighed. "I won't sugarcoat it. We haven't been doing all that great. Crime's been worse in the past three years than it's been in the fifteen before that, so… things aren't looking all that good for Detroit, Snipe. It's been a rough time for all of us."
Beneath his mask, Snipe frowned. "My apologies."
"I'd save those apologies for the families of the good men we've lost," Benson said. He then turned his attention away from the thief as she was hoisted onto a stretcher to face him. "And before you blame yourself for not being here to save those lives we've lost, don't. It's not like you had any solid links to the force here in the city when you left. There's nothing you could've done about it."
Snipe didn't immediately respond. Benson was right. From the other side of the globe, even if he was kept in the loop by some inside source he had among the police, there would be nothing he could've done to help, no matter how much he might've wished to. His family clearly hadn't wanted to worry him. But he wasn't in Japan anymore. He was in his hometown again.
And could've was the keyword of that sentence.
"Now I know some of this info I'm about to ask might be confidential, but…" Snipe felt his fingers itch in anticipation of a fight that would still be far in the future even if he played his cards correctly here. "What kinda operation is it that you folk are dealing with that's got the manpower to take down officers of the law without a whole assortment of heroes coming down to take them home in handcuffs?"
It was as the captain's lips pursed in hesitation to answer that Snipe suddenly noticed the grey hairs that lined the sides of his head. Benson was a man only in his mid-forties, so to see such signs of age in an otherwise perfectly healthy middle-aged man almost made Snipe fear the answer to his question.
Almost.
"It's been a long time since you've been home, Snipe. Some of our officers are at the end of their ropes because of how long we've had everyone stay on high alert, myself included." Benson looked at him, and the volume of his voice fell. "If you want to know what's going on here in the city, I'll tell you, but you have to keep it to yourself."
Snipe nodded. "You can count on me, friend."
"Okay. Good." Benson took a deep breath. "Our biggest issue has been one gang in particular that's been on the rise the past few months. Started out small with only a crew estimated around a dozen people or so, but it gained a lot of traction while a lot of our people we focused on other operations. Nowadays they call themselves 'The Pantheon,' and I hate to say it, but… they're more than a match for the pros and police officers we have here in the city."
"I'll guess this has something to do with their Quirks," Snipe observed.
"And aptitude in combat, yes," Benson confirmed. "You don't know how deadly they are though. I can tell you about each of their leaders' identities and Quirks all the live-long day, but it's not the same as seeing them in action. Some confident Pro Heroes have thought about testing their mettle against one or two of them without too much preparation before."
"And?"
He grit his teeth. "They've come back in body bags."
At that reveal, not a single word escaped Snipe's lips. His mind shut down for a second. Heroes dying in battle wasn't unheard of; part of the job description meant that you had to be willing to potentially lay down your life for others, but typically a hero's light would be snuffed out by only the most notorious of villains. For a gang to project so much power and gain such traction in a matter of months meant that they were either extremely smart or too strong to care about the consequences of their actions. Given the apparent death toll they'd accrued in their brief existence, Snipe was inclined to believe the latter option was more likely, but he wouldn't reject their potential intelligence out of hand. Careful consideration of one's enemy could mean the difference between life and death in a Pro Hero's line of work.
"We've done our best to keep them at bay, but we're basically in a cold war right now," Benson continued. "Most of the higher-ups think they're consolidating their power before they make any more moves to expand their territory, but we've been making a concerted effort to keep their actions on the down-low to prevent a panic. Not that those same efforts work all that well on us, given another nightmare that's landed in our laps lately."
"Don't tell me it's worse than that gang activity," Snipe said.
Benson massaged the bridge of his nose. "It isn't, but given recent legislation, you could say that it's almost equally as severe. Vigilantism is on the rise. We know exactly who's causing this sudden growth of vigilantism-related incidents, but we haven't been able to pin them down."
"You say that vigilantism is on the rise," Snipe commented. "I'm gonna have to ask you to elaborate a little on that."
"Right, sorry. Probably should've been clearer." Benson nodded. "When I say that, I mean that there have been several more vigilante sightings all throughout the city. We don't know if these other individuals are trying to emulate the first major vigilante who made a name for herself these past few weeks, but we do know that the woman in question has likely served as the impetus for this surge in vigilantism. None of them claim that they've coordinated with her nor even met her, but they've all heard of her."
Snipe's brow quirked up. "And this vigilante girl's name?"
Benson's thumbs hooked into his pockets. "Dawnbreaker. Other than that name, her vague appearance, and the fact she uses a steel pipe as a weapon, we know almost nothing else about her. No real name, no potential hideout, no network of allies. She's a one-person army that's been putting the fear of God in dozens of petty criminals for a few weeks now."
"Strange…" Snipe paused. "Say, you wouldn't reckon she has a connection to The Pantheon, would you?"
He shook his head. "Not likely. So far as we're aware she's never had a run-in with The Pantheon the entire time she's been active, and if she was some agent of theirs trying to take down their opponents, she wouldn't be going after targets at random. She's even attacked some of their indirect allies. Put them in hospital beds."
"Well, at least that's one potential problem we won't have to worry about," Snipe said.
"For now," Benson asserted. "Dawnbreaker could easily get in over her head and decide she might want to take them down and get herself killed in the process. She might be a vigilante, but that doesn't mean we should let her continue to run free. The law exists for a reason, and for an individual with as much underground name recognition as her, we have an obligation to take her in as soon as possible to quell this vigilante activity quickly."
"Sounds to me like she might just be fed up with the way this city's been headed."
"Then that's all the more reason for us to take her down." Benson's posture straightened into the same rigid form Snipe came to expect from the captain all those years ago. "So that she doesn't ruin her life and everyone else's in the process of her self-assigned effort to act as the judge, jury, and executioner of criminals in this city. First we need to take down The Pantheon, though. Then we'll have the manpower to try and track her down, take her in, and figure out what to do with her from there."
"Fair enough," Snipe conceded. "But what exactly is your plan to take down that gang? I trust that you folk haven't just been sitting at your desks all day while The Pantheon's been destroying this city."
"Our plan is to get some big-name heroes from out of town to come and help us out before the situation gets worse." Benson momentarily glanced in the direction of the ambulance doors as they slammed shut. "Heroes that can be better, stronger leaders to the pros we have here in the city than any of the officers we have on the force. I think it goes without saying that coordination has been pretty difficult given how we're trying to plan an operation that involves people from a whole slew of other cities, too."
Snipe stood straighter and gazed past the officer. "So Detroit really lacks a leader among all of its heroes, huh…"
"It does," Benson admitted. "I've met a lot of the pros we have around. None of them are even close to lazy, it's just that… a lot of them lack the vision or leadership skills to really take the wheel and steer us in the right direction. In the world we live in today, the police can only do so much. We need heroes who know what needs to be done, have the ability to do it, and inspire everyone else to follow their example in the future. Otherwise…"
He let out an exasperated noise and one of his hands found its way up to his forehead. Snipe set a hand on his shoulder. "Then how about we go ahead and speed this whole process along?"
"Wait a minute, you don't mean…?"
Snipe slipped his hand from his shoulder. "I do. If my hometown's havin' some trouble with a particularly pesky gang and all it really needs is someone to lead a coordinated assault against those damn bastards, then I'll be the first in line to take that job. I'll go ahead and show everyone you can call in to help how a bonafide Japanese pro handles a gangbuster operation."
"That'd definitely solve a lot of problems…" Benson pondered. "And you're willing to stick around in town for as long as it takes for us to get those extra hands? If we pull overtime and I can convince the chief to call in a few favors, we might be able to get a bunch of the personnel that we'll need assembled in a little over two weeks."
"I'll stick around for that long and then some. After all, what kind of hero would I be if I didn't help my hometown get through a real rough patch?" Snipe asked.
Benson laughed shortly, but it was without mirth. "You'd be more like the rest of the heroes around town already. But if we play our cards right… maybe that'll change."
"Damn straight. So what do you say? Partners?" Snipe extended a hand.
"Partners," Benson said, immediately shaking his hand. "When would you like to start?"
One of the officers near the ambulance gave a salute at the sidewalk, drawing the pair's attention over to him. "Sir! We're ready to roll out, and the chief wanted to speak to you about the source of the remote ambulance alert that was sent out."
Snipe chuckled. "Well, I think I already did."
"Alright." For the first time since he recognized the hero he'd stumbled into contact with, an unmistakable smirk appeared on old Captain Benson's face "Then let's roll out!"
"Yes, sir!"
The pair of officers that had come alongside the ambulance re-entered their squad car, with Snipe and Benson wordlessly following not too long after. Perhaps it had been something of a fleeting impulse that brought Snipe back to the United States on such relatively short notice, but now that he was here, he didn't regret the trip in the slightest. Even if he would only remain in Detroit for a short while, now he had the chance to be the direct inspiration for change in the hearts of Pro Heroes all throughout his hometown. Even though he'd only ever desired to do the right thing when he set out to become a hero, he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't a little excited at the idea that he'd be able to change so much in so little time if he successfully coordinated the takedown of The Pantheon.
Perhaps it'd even help him triumph over that ever-present hollowness under his flesh, in the end.
If nothing else, it was worth a shot.
Authors Note: Now I know this is a bit of a baby-boy chapter compared to the behemoth that was Dawnbreaker's debut chapter (and the big chungus that next chapter already looks like it'll turn out to be) but I still think that this got the job done surprisingly well! It covered all the beats I wanted to and made me realize a few things about Meridia and Snipe I didn't think about elaborating upon before, so I call that an absolute win!
For starters, man do I feel bad about Meridia's backstory. I think her state of poverty hit a little close to home for me, so I really got into writing it, but I do hope it didn't come across as pretentious or too sappy/cliche to take seriously. Nevertheless, to answer the questions before they may crop up… Meridia isn't a born prodigy like Bakugo, but insofar as this flashback is concerned, her determination brings her pretty damn close. Thus her ability to 1v1 Victor and win. Secondly, Meridia chose vigilantism over becoming a pro because she hates them (as I hope I made clear) and also… I always figured that it'd cost a lot to put a kid through a hero academy, no matter where it so happens to be located or how good of a curriculum it turns out to be. I didn't want to ham-fist it into the chapter, so I figured it'd be for the best that I mention it here, just to be safe.
Final random note here is that Snipe is surprisingly one of my breakout favorites when it comes to minor characters in WFAF. Dunno why, but dang is he cool and fun to write in every scene he's in. And… yeah, that's it from me! Next chapter wraps up the flashback and maybe we'll get back to Jomei and Meridia in the present in that same period. Dunno yet, but it's gonna be fun for sure! Hope you guys enjoy it when it rolls along!
Peace!