You can't fight

Hello everyone! *screams internally and is floored and eternally grateful for how popular this awful angsty shit has turned out to be*. Time to bring on some more action ;)

But before that let me just say this – while I do understand that Bakugo (Bakugou?) is not really evil (just constantly PMS-ing) and has solid reasons for being a shit (among other things he's still a child with a faulty upbringing his parents still don't take responsibility for to this day and age but instead are expecting his UA teachers to fix), he is a shit regardless and that's why he's getting this. Because karma is a bitch.

"So this… Product X as the black market calls it," the officer inquires, leafing through the file and extracting a report of sorts, "How does it work exactly? Does it enhance quirks? Does it give one a better quirk, or…?"

The change of subject offers Izuku something to focus on and thus a momentary reprieve from the emotional and physical onslaught which comes with the drug withdrawal. He used to study in great detail this stuff about quirks and fights, it was something he was quite passionate about analyzing back when-… well, in that other life which was destroyed just like his then-precious notebook.

But fuck all that.

"It's not a quirk at all," he explains, and back then he was actually relieved to hear it, because he was really so fucking sick of all this quirk talk. "That's why it doesn't work out for those with powerful quirks, because they're too caught up in their natural reflexes to use their quirk and nothing else. Also, Product X gives you superior physical strength, but you can't do much if you have great power but zero skills, so it also has an embedded 'computer software' component. It sort of 'uploads' a program in your brain and suddenly you have a solid fighting technique."

The boy pauses, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue and staring pensively at his shaky hands. The tattooed fingers of his right one are still a little crooked and he can remember that awful pain even G.A.F was useless against.

"Of course, I wouldn't know what having a quirk feels like, but it must be something… that it's not like up for fifteen minutes and then you go on dead battery."

"Watch this," Himiko says, lunging forward and before his widened eyes her body twists in the air as the blonde kicks a trash can, the fairly large and heavy object being sent flying some fifty feet and then crashing violently against a concrete wall. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Wow… i-it's amazing! You're probably as strong as a pro hero now! With this we could-…"

But the blonde shakes her head with a small sigh, shrugging in the oversized blazer. "Yeah, you could say it's really orgasmic. As in 'great but it doesn't last', that's why Shigaraki has a big problem with its marketability. It didn't work on his strong customers and many of his weak customers got their sorry asses busted because they got carried away and forgot about this tiny drawback. You have to think things through before using it on a hit and fuck, I would never trade actual weapons for it, it's essentially a side solution."

Upon closer analysis, Product X is slightly overrated (and clearly overpriced). It still takes some practice to get used to it and the top 'running' time is apparently twenty minutes at most, going down the more unfit one's body is and the dosage can be a problem too – inject more than one dose at a time and heart failure is almost guaranteed. At the first try and on half a dose Izuku can go on full power a little over ten minutes before the 'dead battery' phase hits without any warning and when it does it's hella ugly – a blinding wave of nausea washes over him, causing the boy to collapse on the ground face first, after which he's out cold for two hours.

The second round of practice goes a little better – almost fifteen minutes on full dose – and with some results too.

"This guy's got everything we need," Himiko says, glancing up the fire escape staircase. "And I don't suppose robbing someone like him counts as a hit either, not like he's gonna call the police on us. Pity, because I feel it's gonna be good," she reflects with a grin.

The target is a drug dealer the creepy Product X supplier has tipped them to on a 50% clause because the guy has a respectable daytime job in a corporation and for some reason thinks that makes it okay not to pay Shigaraki's bill. Thus, he's not only an amateur, he's an idiot too.

"Remember, keep a clear head," she tells the boy. "He's got a small crew, only three men and they probably suck hardcore but they're all armed, so we need to be very careful."

The two teens slip soundlessly into the tiny but fancily decorated apartment through an open window and knock out two of the gangsters before they know what hit them, collecting their guns and all the cash and merchandise carelessly lying around. The boss and the other one are not home, so the League's 'message' doesn't get delivered, but Himiko's disappointment is somewhat appeased by the thought of those two muscle-packed dumbasses having to explain to their boss how they were taken out by two kids and by picking up some car keys which turn out to belong to an inconspicuous black Honda CRV which has seen better days.

"And don't you need a license to drive this?" the student raises an eyebrow as the blonde leads him to it, arms draped around his shoulders affectionately. They really shouldn't be that cheerful just yet, but the rush of adrenaline has left them both a bit lightheaded.

"Oh yeah, so if I get pulled over we are fucked," Himiko drawls, eyes widening comically and lips stretching into a devious smirk. "Hard and without a condom."

"Really?"

"I'm serious, Izuku, don't laugh. Now get in."

Something that qualifies the blonde as a full-fledged villain maybe even more legit than the stuff she's done is the mindset she shares with the League of Villains – namely that the more impressive your official criminal record is the more solid your reputation in the world. That is actually rather worrisome and Izuku himself is aware that his mother has filed a missing persons report shortly after his disappearance (which was quite a while ago) and since then he must have been caught on a least a dozen surveillance cameras doing various shit, but it's a thought he chooses to successfully ignore most of the time with the help of the artificial bliss inducers they're never short of. Besides, he's in good hands so he doesn't really think police will get them anytime soon, and life with Himiko is entertaining enough not to allow the boy to dwell on any depressive shit.

The faint tingling he can still feel in his arm from driving his fist into that brute's jaw earlier is so exhilarating and he doesn't want to lose that feeling.

"I guess this went well," Izuku observes, stretching lazily against the backrest of the passenger seat and fishing a joint out of his back pocket. "But I'm sure Shigaraki could have dealt with him personally and taken everything for himself, don't you think?"

"Nah, this asshole's too small a fry for the League. Besides, Shigaraki is a very powerful guy," Himiko replies. "For real, he could fucking move mountains but what he can't move most of the time is his ass from the couch and that's why he needs others to do his dirty work. Not to mention, with the fucked up way he looks there are probably ten pro heroes on his back the very moment he sets foot out of that shithole bar - because Heaven forbid he'd make an effort to look normal – so whenever he does it better be worthwhile…"

The late afternoon air is still warm and the empty street is reassuringly quiet, so they pull over in front of a coffee vending machine and the student gets out to get some because they still have stuff to do before the day is over and Izuku for one can barely keep his eyes open. And then, just as he's digging for change in his pocket, shit happens (because things have been all sunshine and unicorns in his life for too long as of late and it just had to!)

"DEKU!? YOU FUCKING SHITTY NERD!"

Izuku scowls at the noise – because that's all there is to it now - sighing deeply before he turns towards the approaching source. Sure enough, a certain red-eyed blond is stomping towards him with gritted teeth and clenched fists, looking ready to rip him to shreds (what else is new).

"Just where the fuck have you been all this time?!" Bakugo halts his steps, angrily taking in the other boy's gel-smoothed hair, loose shirt and baggy jeans pooling over the trademark red sneakers. "And why the fuck do you look like a thug now?!" he demands, painfully unaware that his childhood 'friend' has no desire to put up with his shit a second longer.

"Why don't you just fuck off, Kacchan?" Izuku mutters, gracing the other with a bored expression. The blond is donning a brand new U.A. uniform, but it's still a school uniform, something which could only be impressive for a smaller child.

"I asked where the fuck have you been, Deku, you shit! Your mother's been worried sick-"

Now, that's a good one.

"Yeah? You talked to my Mom?" The smaller boy takes a step forward, snorting and nodding slowly. "Did you tell her about the piece of advice you gave me that day? How I'd be better off taking a swan dive off the roof?"

Izuku should be angry, maybe deep down he still is, but the G.A.F effectively keeps his temper in check, soothing his emotions. As such, he's now simply making a point, without any expectations. What the fuck could anyone hope to get out of this anyway? Some awkward apology? Fat chance anyone could ever take Kacchan on a guilt trip and even if that were possible, he just doesn't care anymore.

"…what?! I never said that, you dumbass! Did you fucking hit your head or something? What the fuck happened to you anyway?!"

Izuku blinks, taken aback by the reply, but when the other lunges forward to grab him his hands move on reflex, drawing the guns tucked under the back of his shirt and pointing them at the blond.

"I can't fucking believe this! You don't even remember!" he breathes out, voice cracking slightly. "You're such a shit that you go throwing horribly mean things around and you don't even know what the fuck you're saying?! Huh?! Just what the fuck is your problem anyway?!"

But Bakugo is silent now, petrified, eyes wide and trained on the twin muzzles held in his face as if he's hypnotized by them. For the first time in his life, he looks truly scared, it's a deep, visceral fear the other boy can almost smell. Which is surprising, because Izuku was almost sure he'd get a full blast in his face, especially at such a close range, but Bakugo doesn't fight back, he doesn't move, almost doesn't breathe either, simply staring in horror. On top of that, his karma has decided to be a motherfucking bitch such that absolutely nothing happens, no pro hero shows up to save him, there's not even a passer-by who can call the police, he's simply fucked with capital F.

"This is anticlimactic," the green-haired boy observes dryly, mouth pursing in baffled disappointment. "What's the matter, you can't crush me now? You can't fight? Is this how you're gonna be a hero? Look at you, pissing your pants because a quirkless little shit like me puts a gun in your face… Is this how you're gonna surpass All Might? Huh?!"

Still, there's no smugness in his tone, just endless disgust, including with himself. Just what the fuck has he been looking up to all these fucking years?! Fuck, was he a dumb shit! He deserved being called Deku!

"Hey, hey, hey, easy now." Himiko's hand tugs at his hair, pulling him back gently as she leans in to kiss the side of his neck. "You don't have to be so mean, Izuku. If the kid dreams of being a hero and all he wants in life is a shitty government-subsidized paycheck like ten years from now, who are you to stand in his way?"

"Right…"

For all the burn marks on his body, Izuku turns on his heels and walks away without as much as touching his old bully.