"Quirkless?" Asked Endeavor.
"Both of them." Porter took a drink from a flask, before sliding the lid back on, twisting it, and pocketing it. They both stood adjacent to one another amidst a grassy field torn apart by the raised metallic track of a bullet train. "And as far as I can tell, her grandparents weren't that impressive either, split between quirkless and other basic stuff like minor telepathy and increased reactions. But her? Eesh."
"How did her parents react? A quirk of such power had to be cultivated, not something one is simply born with. Daybreak must have had some sort of training over the years-"
"Classified."
The flames on Endeavor's costume flared up for a half a second as Porter interrupted him. "What?" He looked to his side and down towards Porter. "You must understand, if I am to whip her into shape, I need to know everything about her-"
Porter cut Endeavor off. "Her blood type is B-positive, her quirk's highest recorded temperature is one-thousand-five-hundred-and-sixty-one kelvin, her free time is usually spent split between shounen manga, training at our gym, and sparring against Hourglass, her fireproof clothes are specifically made for her and commissioned by me, she once attended a stealth mission in a dress made from her own flames…
And beyond what I just told you, her parents… are classified."
Endeavor was taken aback at Porter's display. An attempt at intimidation no doubt, making sure that while Porter was willing to tell him a lot about Daybreak, several more things would remain secret.
"We're going to keep secrets from each other, Todoroki. This is an undeniable fact. And while I'm afraid to say it… details involving her parents beyond minor details like quirk information is one thing I'm taking to my grave. Frankly, I would rather clean up this whole 'dead cops' mess myself than tell you."
"Hmph, fine." Endeavor crossed his arms, the flames on his costume and face growing a bit more intense. He looked back out into the distance.
A few seconds of silence was exchanged between them, as they both stared out into the evening sun, waiting for the approaching bullet train. Porter had told him that Hourglass was on it, working on evacuating civilians, but not expanding beyond that.
Porter never mentioned what was aboard that necessitated intervention from Endeavor, but he assumed it had to be serious.
But… until the train arrived, they had some time to kill. He could use this opportunity to pry information, abusing the rising stress of an impending mission.
He shot a look back at Porter.
"A dress?"
"Oh yeah, it was a hero gala, so she fit right in. And if I was a suspecting person, I would almost think she was practicing making one-"
"She was practicing making one… what?" An armorless Daybreak stepped out of Porter's rental car, an old beater truck, something to lie low in. She threw the back of the coat behind her and slid her arms into the sleeves, sheathing them into the front pockets.
"I was just telling him about the dress." Said Porter, looking over to her.
Flames flared up around Daybreak, coursing around her fireproof coat, leaving it unharmed. "You were what?!"
"C'mon Daybreak, you looked good in it! I think it really impressed Weston." Porter's voice was almost mocking, like he was talking to a kid. Granted, with the nearly twenty-year age difference between the two, that wasn't a hard feat.
"I'm sure my target also thought that…" she joined the two in waiting for the train, standing on Porter's side. "... Before I shoved a blade of fire down his throat."
"We're allowed to have guilty pleasures, Daybreak." Said Porter, sighing. "And liking dresses is hardly the guiltiest someone could have."
Daybreak looked up to Endeavor, her face displaying no emotion.
"Endeavor." She said, acknowledging his presence.
Endeavor spent a millisecond deliberating between saying 'Samantha,' 'Agent Fields', and 'Daybreak.' recalling his previous conversation with Porter, he knew she had some sort of adverse reaction to her real name, and only Porter seemed to use it without conflict, something not even that Hourglass could do. "Daybreak, I'm glad you could make it.'' His greeting was uncharacteristically cordial, more so than hers, and that was by design.
In secret, Endeavor had a three-stage plan for using her to his advantage, using her to finally surpass All Might once and for all. Stage one was simple enough, gaining her trust. But… Endeavor never really shined in this aspect, and thus the first stage was the hardest. As the number two hero in Japan, people usually bent over backwards for his favors, and he never had to reciprocate. Hell, even the only one above him, All Might, he wasn't friendly towards, and received nothing but unreciprocated kindness from.
But this Daybreak, Porter, Hourglass, they weren't from Japan; they had their own heroes to worry about, amidst a culture where nigh-worship of those higher in the hierarchy wasn't just uncommon, but downright discouraged.
And now that Hourglass demonstrated he could beat Endeavor…
It was safe to say none of these Americans had much respect for him, beyond the usual professional respect exchanged between heroes.
This was unfamiliar territory for Endeavor, this 'psychological manipulation' thing. But if he could climb and carry himself to the number two hero spot, nothing was impossible.
And it all started with this, a simple greeting.
"I believe this is the first time we've been able to have a conversation without an imminent fight." Said Endeavor.
"Bullet train gets here in five minutes-" Said Porter, interjecting.
"Yeah, last time you stormed off after Hourglass kicked your ass."
Endeavor tried to keep his emotions contained, and this girl wasn't making it easy. His fire subconsciously flared, but not enough to be noticeable unless one paid exact attention. He had to remain calm, not give in to any outbursts caused by this woman.
"Yes, that 'Hourglass…'" Endeavor looked off into the distance. "He's an impressive fighter. You've chosen a good partner to have at your back."
"Is that humility I'm seeing, Endeavor?" Porter's face contorted into a grin. "I guess the stories I've read were incomplete after all…" He said, tauntingly.
"It's simple, Agent Porter." He turned towards Daybreak. "If I am to set an example for this future student, my behavior needs to be something I would want reflected." Endeavor wasn't sure how far he wanted to take this explanation. Trust was a hard thing to build, but he still didn't want to throw all his cards on the table just yet. No, this was a planned maneuver, showing that Endeavor isn't afraid to talk about Daybreak while she's around, and that he also has the capability to change his behavior, control his emotions, and be a suitable teacher.
In truth, this was easier said than done. The trainees at the Endeavor Hero Agency knew what they were getting into. They knew that through the constant yelling, disciplinary measures, and other such things, that they were there to get better, and more importantly, they were volunteering for this. Daybreak, however, was… not… volunteering. Porter told Endeavor that Daybreak knew about the situation, about the fact that Endeavor is clearing Daybreak of her crimes in exchange for training with him for a month. Unfortunately, he didn't know how Porter told her this, or whether he told it with an air of 'I'm blackmailing you' or 'gee, isn't this Endeavor guy nice?'
Probably somewhere in the middle…
"Hmm…" Porter said out loud. He brought his hand to his chin. "Let's trust this new direction for a moment. What does this say about your current trainees? Are you ok with them becoming… you?"
Endeavor crossed his arms, looking over to Porter. Daybreak was, surprisingly, not interjecting here. Perhaps she was also interested in where this was going, or, in the interest of preserving her job and reputation, letting Endeavor speak.
"The difference between the sidekicks I'm already training, and Daybreak, is that Daybreak is already on the top. I've seen her myself. She's got the power, but what she lacks is skill, mastery over her quirk, discipline, and a hero-oriented mindset."
"That last one could be complicated…" Said Daybreak, finally joining the conversation. "Considering the nature of our work…" Her tone was more reserved than earlier, probably the calmest Endeavor had seen her. It was a strange contrast, but he could adapt.
"Daybreak. You are a hero… aren't you?" Endeavor turned towards her. "From what Porter's told me, you may be in a special team with differing ways of doing things, while specializing in certain types of hero-work. But it's still hero-work, isn't it? Your goal is to save people, defend those who can't defend themselves. Whether that's direct, like stopping a rampaging villain, or indirect, like say… infiltrating a bunker that's manufacturing nuclear bombs and seizing their supply."
Porter's expression turned to a scowl, and this was according to Endeavor's intentions. If Porter was going to demonstrate his knowledge of secret activities, then Endeavor would do so in kind. The only difference being, he did so during a part of the conversation where Porter couldn't interject.
"Hero work begins and ends with how you conduct yourself, and being a public hero or a clandestine one doesn't change that. In fact, it should be even more important for you to conduct yourself like a hero, because, unlike the average pro, no one will know who you are. No one knows the hulking mass of flaming armor is on their side, and part of being a hero is making sure people know you're here to help."
"Huh… surprisingly apt words." Porter turned to Daybreak. "he's right, it's not really something I've thought about in depth before, a consequence of being quirkless. Perhaps this deal could work in your favor…" he looked back to Endeavor. "Unless this guy has any ulterior motives."
Porter put extra emphasis on his last words.
Is he already onto me? This American is something else…
Endeavor didn't flinch from Porter's accusation, continuing to look down on him, literally. "The only ulterior motive I would have is using your agent as a tool to surpass All Might. Nothing more, nothing less."
Porter could take that white lie several ways, Endeavor had purposely phrased it as so, and told it in a way where it wasn't a complete lie, albeit the implications were slanted towards using her as a glorified punching bag, and not as… something else...
Hourglass resumed time, color returning to the world as he hunched over, taking a deep breath, before holding it inside his mouth, and stopping time again. Picking up one more confused passenger, he took a step outside, setting the passenger down. In the few tens of milliseconds he had to look around, he saw the line of people he was leaving behind. A line of extremely disoriented Japanese civilians.
Hourglass thought of how they felt for one moment. In the beginning, they saw a strange American teleport around their train. And then they themselves were teleported outside… onto the grass around said train, while it was still accelerating! What a day!
I mean, what would I do if-
He stopped, extremely suddenly. Burning valuable seconds of his quirk just to think and observe this. Hourglass let out a frustrated breath of air, running further and further out into the field, observing the line of passengers he was leaving behind.
Only a tenth of the way done, Hourglass still had hundreds of passengers to rescue, but that didn't concern him, no…
What concerned him was the distance between passengers.
It was increasing.
Hourglass put his hand to his head and ran back inside the train car. Resuming time for half a second to take a breath, and then stopping it once again. Moving his way towards the front, he moved past the broken doors and entered the control car, stopping at the speedometer. Frowning at his need to burn more time, he deactivated his quirk.
The number was going up.
He had to burn more seconds. He had to check.
Hourglass turned on his phone, calling Porter again.
"Porter! Something is causing this train to accelerate. I need to shut the whole thing off. How do I-"
He heard a click. An extremely subtle click. Intense training had meant Hourglass could hear the mechanisms of explosives and firearms before they went off, something Porter himself had honed years ago.
And what Hourglass had just heard was the telltale sign of an explosive going off.
A non-nuclear one, luckily. Nuclear explosives had very distinctive mechanisms, with very distinctive sounds.
Sounds Hourglass hoped he never had to hear.
He shook those thoughts off, activating his quirk after realizing that the control cabin was rigged to blow.
Of course it was! Why would they leave this undefended!
Hourglass rushed out the door, moving past standing civilians he hadn't moved yet. They were standing too close, shrapnel would impale them from this distance.
The worst part… was that Hourglass was exhausted.
He could only keep his quirk active for five seconds more. He had no time to move any of these people away. All he could do was watch.
Hourglass resumed time.
The explosion reverberated through the entire train, throwing him backwards and eviscerating nearby civilians. Pieces of red-hot metal broke off, flying in various directions and through the walls, leaving small holes from which sunlight peeked through. The rush of air hit Hourglass like a truck, as the front of the train broke into pieces, thrown outwards in all directions.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the train continued moving forward. The internal mechanisms controlling both the brakes and acceleration were torn into shards of metal and obliterated circuitry.
Hourglass coughed, readjusting himself and reactivating his qui-
Searing pain shot through him, ripping him out of stopped time and, as he glanced down, he realized why.
An enormous piece of metal shrapnel had embedded itself in his chest, blood streaming out from both the front and back of his torso.
He coughed again. Struggling as blood came from his throat.
"O-oh…" Hourglass looked around. Most civilians panicked, jumping out of the train, while a few others remained staring at him. One approached him, yelling something in Japanese. Hourglass couldn't understand. The pain was slowly dulling out as unconsciousness once again loomed over him like an inevitable void. And as his thoughts of what Porter and Samantha would do left his mind, a memory played in his head.
A dream.
A nightmare.
Montpelier, Vermont. Three years ago
"Area secure."
The cylindrical under-barrel flashlight of an assault rifle swept the room, bouncing light between the motes of dust floating through the air, giving a thin cone of vision throughout the derelict military base. Roof tilings and broken desks littered the ground among smaller pieces of debris, cracking under the man's boots. Several more flashlights illuminated the room, from several more soldiers following close behind.
The lead soldier motioned to his side, still looking forward, eyes honed down his sights. "One and Two, Head through the left staircase into the lower level. If you find anyone, kill them." He looked up from his rifle and threw his free arm backwards. "Three and Four, head back to the entrance. Nobody gets in."
His comrades collectively acknowledged his orders with a flurry of confirmations, breaking off to their respective locations with haste, flashlight beams dancing across the room. The leader lowered his rifle, looking around the room, opening destroyed desk drawers and dented filing cabinets.
"C'mon, it has to be around here somewhere-"
His radio crackled to life. "I think something's nearby-" the radio broke into unreadable static, followed by silence, a proverbial flatline as the line died.
The soldier raised his rifle, moving his communicator closer to his face. "One and two, what's happening?"
Nothing but static.
"One and two, respond!"
"Contact-! Agh!" The soldier whipped around only to see his two comrades, neck twisted in impossible ways, armored ripped off, as they gurgled on the ground, ceasing all movement moments later.
The soldier dropped his communicator to the ground. It bounced up once before settling down, disturbing the embedded dust. He narrowed his aim, rapidly looking across the room, his flashlight casting unsettling, moving shadows behind the desecrated furniture.
"Come out, you little-"
A gush of blood, the spray of crimson liquid across the dirty ground, and the soldier fell to the ground, his life taken in an instant.
A figure, someone in differently colored yet similar combat gear, appeared from thin air over his corpse. He reached his hand down slowly, taking something from the body.
"More of them… what are they here for...?" the man said to himself quietly.
Audio crackled from the man's earpiece.
"Hourglass, something strange heading your way, can't risk the shot. They're walking in through the front door."
Right on queue, another humanoid figure came into view, rounding the dusty, illuminated corner reflecting light from the morning sun outside. It wore a long, closed black overcoat, shrouding his entire upper and lower body. A wide-brimmed hat shrouded his face, and under it laid a metal mask, with two glowing eyeholes surrounded by solid plating.
Hourglass stood adjacent to the hooded figure, both intently focused on each other, both eyes hidden. A blade extended out from below the figure's coat, cutting through the air and shimmering in the dim light.
He readied the blade, coat moving violently in the air as the figure contorted itself into a battle pose, and rushing straight at Hourglass, with the clear intent to cut him down.
In that instant, Hourglass activated his quirk, and the figure stopped in his tracks. All color, sound, and movement, stolen from under him. Hourglass calmly walked towards the figure before putting both his hands on the hilt of the sword and attempting to disarm him. His actions were only met with his own frustrated gasps against his breathing apparatus, as the sword didn't budge even a bit. Stopping, Hourglass lifted the coat, revealing not only two metal-plated arms but also a thick suit of mechanized power-armor, obscuring the figure even with its coat lifted. Hourglass knew that in the grip of power armor, there was no way he would ever get that sword away. It might as well have been physically attached to the figure.
For curiosity's sake, Hourglass lowered the coat before stepping behind and to the side, and deactivating his quirk. Color returned to the world, and the figure rushed forward in a straight line, dragging the sword across the ground and stopping after a few meters, cutting a large gash in the flooring, and sending debris and dust flying outwards, all in a tenth of a second. This guy was fast, faster than Hourglass had hoped. He would have to be careful when timing his quirk.
The figure turned, the wide-brimmed hat covering his already masked face. The blade was readied again, and he ran forward to slash once more. Hourglass reacted in kind, constantly stopping time and dodging the blows as the figure threw them.
"Who are you?" Said Hourglass, arms in a combat position, while the figure stood looking away, crouched down after one final slash, holding his blade out.
A mechanized voice came from the figure, clearly male, but almost…. Robotic?
"You'll remember."
The blade flashed while the figure stood up, moving it to his sheath. He spun it in the air before sliding it in.
Hourglass heard the click of the blade as it hit the end of the sheath.
Immediately, the room filled with blinding white light, a deafening boom followed by shrapnel as Hourglass activated his quirk, struggling to keep it activated as he was thrown against a wall. Movement and color still absent from the world. He slid down the wall before picking himself up. Grunting from pain and grabbing his ribs. Silent, stationary fireballs surrounded him, emanating from the sword slashes left from the figure.
Could that be his quirk?
Hourglass hastily stood to his feet, limping outside the building, and leaning against the outside wall. He reached his hands under his combat uniform, checking the rest of his body for injuries. A few pieces of embedded shrapnel, and a broken rib, but nothing he couldn't fight through. If worse came to worst, he could resort to his adrenaline syringe.
Hourglass took a sigh, a deep breath, raising his hand to his earpiece before resuming time.
All at once, the cascading shockwave pulsed through him once again, and his ears rang like a high-pitched bell. Black smoke filled every part of the building, obscuring the interior.
"Cassandra! Unknown soldier armed with an unknown quirk, shoot to kill!"
"My pleasure." The snide voice of his comrade played through his earpiece, bypassing his ringing ears as he jumped off the wall, ready to fight.
There was an eerie silence as smoke rose from the building, small fires ignited on the upper floors while the foundation cracked and buckled against the damaged supports.
The figure broke the calm, rushing out with staggering speed, leaving a trail of dragged smoke behind him, cutting across the concrete road and straight through a car, both sides glowing red hot, falling inward as Hourglass dodged the blade using his quirk.
"Taking the shot."
Hourglass looked up at Cassandra. She was perched on top of a nearby clock tower with her signature Barrett fifty-caliber anti-material rifle. It was an old weapon not in line with modern standards, once mass produced a few centuries ago in this very country. But even given its immense age, and a sheer number of modifications that would make even Theseus blush, it was hard to argue with its pure efficiency. Modern sniper rifles didn't even compare.
He saw the flash of the barrel before hearing the sound, and the bullet traced a trail of circular ripples through the air. Hourglass couldn't keep focus on the bullet due to its sheer speed, but he got vision of it the moment it closed in on the figure.
Hourglass didn't believe his eyes. In an instant, the figure drew his sword, cutting the bullet in half. Both sides curved around him, bouncing off the concrete and losing much of their speed, before bouncing somewhere out of vision.
"What the-" muttered Hourglass.
"Holy shit-!" Exclaimed Cassandra.
The figure violently turned to Hourglass, slamming its sword into the concrete, and cutting across the ground again with blinding speed. Hourglass only narrowly activated his quirk in time. Stopping without looking back, the figure raised its sword into the air and slowly brought it to its sheath.
Hourglass heard the distinctive click again.
More explosions littered the streets, stopped in their tracks by Hourglass' quirk. His subconscious had made the prediction, activated his fight-or-flight response, and regardless of his subconscious decision, both responses led towards his quirk's activation. Hourglass shook his head, taking a deep breath from his apparatus while he gathered his bearings and sprinting a safe distance away. Hourglass caught the corner of a building and went around it, deactivating his quirk.
Only a second later, Hourglass heard the sound of cutting, and shoved himself away from the building as the figure broke through it with a shoulder charge. Bricks and drywall tumbled down to the ground, and a massive cloud of dust hovered around them, while white, fluffy insulation floated in the air momentarily.
"Firing again!"
Three shots rang out in quick succession, all focused on the figure. It jerked its helmet towards the bullet and unsheathed its blade, bringing it up towards them.
Three impossibly fast sword slashes, and all three shots broke before impact.
"I can't get a shot in!" She yelled.
"Don't fire for damage!" Yelled Hourglass, before activating his quirk to dodge a blow, and deactivating it to continue talking. "Keep him from sheathing his blade. That activates his quirk!"
One more dodged cut, and the figure started to sheath again. Another bullet from the clock tower, piercing through the air. The figure stopped the sheath and once again slashed the bullet in two. It shifted its attention to where Hourglass has "teleported" to, and ran forward, cutting the car he was using for cover clean in half, the disjointed metal glowing red from friction. As Hourglass moved away, the figure, a lot more aggressive and with haste, attempted to sheath again. Hourglass saw the glint of Cassandra's scope, and another bullet came from her rifle.
The figure staggered as the bullet glanced his side, unable to fully sheath the blade, instead electing to dodge it. But Hourglass realized whatever suit this one was wearing, it limited his mobility, but not his reactions.
The figure looked to Hourglass, and then towards the clock tower.
"Clever." The suit broadcasted a voice with a mechanical undertone, the grating sound of radio static obscuring the still distinctly German accent.
The figure brought his blade outwards, making sure both parties knew he wasn't going to sheath it.
"But I am curious. What is your plan? Are you expecting this-"
Cassandra interrupted his speech, letting off another shot straight into his sword. He interrupted himself, moving his blade to once again cut the bullet.
"Well, that wasn't very nice." He pointed his blade to the clock tower, the silvery metal glistening in the morning sun. "I only ask that I am allowed to speak."
"... Says the one that blew up a building, with me inside of it…" said Hourglass, grasping his chest with staggered breaths. The adrenaline from his broken bones was wearing off, but he had to keep going…
The figure turned towards him. "This coming from the man who slaughtered my men without mercy… my, my, Hourglass, throwing stones in a glass house, are we?"
"You know me…?" said Hourglass, taking staggered breaths. The darkness was coming, surrounding his vision like an ominous approaching shadow of unconsciousness, but just a bit longer… Hourglass knew he had to keep going. He had to figure out what this guy was about.
The figure held up his blade towards Hourglass, pointing at him. "Shanghai, China. Second civil war? Or was it the third…?" He swiped his blade to the side, tiny, barely visible particles glittering in the sunlight as they tumbled to the ground. "You were there, you killed a lot of people, Hourglass. And while they never found it was you. I did…" he tilted his head downwards. "Everyone I know is dead because of you, murdered in a picosecond using that quirk of yours. They never even saw it coming, they wouldn't fight back... You never gave them a chance!" There was a pause, as everyone, the figure, Hourglass, Cassandra, all took in what was being said. He shot a look to Hourglass, raw emotion somehow radiating through his opaque helmet. "How can you sleep at night, after all you've done?"
"... Weston?" Cassandra said over his earpiece. He reached up to it, still looking at the figure.
"I… I was just…"
"All that talk… of what you've done in the past, Weston. To me, to Porter… was that all a lie?" Asked Cassandra. Her cocky Tony had long since left, replaced by an uncharacteristically sympathetic one.
"I…" Hourglass was struggling to find the words. "I didn't… I just wanted…-"
"See how he stutters! Unable to make any more excuses!" The figure yelled, holding his arms out, and turning towards Cassandra's tower. "Look at the sins your partner cannot admit to. Look at the burden he bears and has hidden from you and your confidants!"
Hourglass looked down, clutching his left side with his right arm, still fighting off unconsciousness. He couldn't bear to look at either of them… because the figure was right. He had hidden his past, and the things he did back there… he didn't want them to know. Porter had no doubt already found out. After all, that CO could dig up anything out of anywhere. But Cassandra, his partner of two years… was she ready to know?
"Hourglass." Her voice was no longer shaky, replaced by a tone of confidence. "What you did back then… I can't know, but what matters is what you do here and now. We can talk later about what you've done, how you're atoning for it, or… something. But right now? We help people, that's what we do. What you did in the past doesn't change that mission. We protect those who can't protect themselves. We work in the shadows where public heroes would not dare. That's what we are, Daniel, we're heroes. And what you did back then won't change that."
That was the Cassandra he knew. She was a hardened soldier, tackling impossible odds daily with a smile on her face, looking death in the eye and grinning right back at it. Even without a quirk, she could work with the likes of pro-heroes and Hourglass without slowing them down.
She was a fighter, and that's what Hourglass needed to be. The past could wait. What matters right now is the present.
"Right…" Hourglass physically shook off the approaching unconsciousness, invigorated with newfound energy. "This guy, he's-" the dots clicked in Hourglass' mind, figuring out just who this is as he went down the list. Until… it came to him, the power armor, that sword…
Oh no.
"Resh…!" He yelled under his breath.
"Ah! You remember me, Hourglass!" said the figure.
"You know him, so… how do we beat him?"
"We… I-" Hourglass has a few moments to decide. He shook his head and spoke one last time into the earpiece. "We need to run!"
"What-?!"
Hourglass cut off Cassandra, activating his quirk as color seeped from the world. He lifted the respirator to his face, latching it behind his head and taking a deep breath. He rushed to his left, shifting his direction mid-sprint and running towards Cassandra's clock tower.
Twenty seconds. He made it to the building.
Sixty-five. He was running out of breath, but he made it up the winding stairs.
Hourglass took a millisecond to stare at his partner. Colors missing from her face and uniform still contorted into what she was saying earlier into her earpiece. He dug his hand into one of his combat pouches, digging out a syringe with a clear blue liquid inside. Moving it took a considerable amount of effort, after all, the liquid inside was pushing against the glass as he moved it through the air, unaffected by gravity.
Hourglass popped off the cap, pulled up his vest and shirt…
And stabbed it directly into his chest.
The surge of energy hit him like a freight train. Too much energy to be contained. He felt like he could run a mile in five minutes. Well… for him, it would technically be zero minutes.
Grabbing the rifle out of his partner's hands, slinging it over his back, and taking a hold of her with both hands, he grabbed her sides and carried her under his shoulder. She was small, but muscular, heavy for her size, but not heavy enough for him to carry. He rushed down the stairs, constantly shifting direction as he looped around, and soon after exiting the building, running down the street.
Hourglass wasn't sure how far he ran, sprinting down the looping, pedestrian-filled streets. Past stationary cars and filled buildings, further and further into the middle of the city. Resh was a merciless killer, but even he had standards, he wouldn't kill civilians if he had to, and right now, all he wanted was Hourglass.
A thought lingered in his head. He glanced down to the unmoving face of Cassandra, and then back to his path.
Why am I bringing her? Am I really that selfish? He wants me dead, not her!
The thought didn't last long enough for him to think of it. The telegraphed crash of an adrenaline overdose was coming, the headaches, the chills, the sweat coming off his body and ominously floating motionless in the air, marking his path. With the writing on the wall, he stopped inside a nearby dilapidated building, closed off for construction work. He laid his unthinking partner against a piece of bare drywall, alongside her rifle, and deactivated his quirk, he himself falling to the ground.
"-do you mean-! Hang on, where- Hourglass!" She jumped onto her feet, rushing over to the crouched down Hourglass, kneeling beside him. "What happened?!"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. That was my fault, but this Resh guy… we can't… beat him…"
"I… I don't understand. You've never backed down from a fight before…" She looked at him with worried eyes. "What happened back then…? Is it about the sword? The armor? If the sword is his quirk, then all we have to do is get it away from him, right? If I focus the shots with my rifle onto his sword, we can loosen his grip and-"
"You don't understand! His quirk isn't the sword, it's-"
There was a millisecond of rumbling, something approaching, before the wall to their right cracked like glass, the ominous black armor of Resh breaking through, sword pressed forward. Hourglass tried to activate his quirk… but the adrenaline crash had finally hit him, snapping him out of it nearly immediately.
Cassandra heard it though, and she reacted faster, grabbing her sniper and rolling out of the way. As the man fully came through, he stopped and stared at Hourglass, motes of dust surrounding them, refusing to fall to the ground as they lazily hung in the air.
"You cannot run from me! Not this time-!" As he was yelling, something impacted his head, and Hourglass' ears were deafened. He looked over to see Cassandra holding out her rifle, smoke rising from the barrel. The bullet bounced off Resh's plating, but staggered him, threw him off balance, and Cassandra exploited that by firing another shot.
The bullet impacted the same location the first bullet hit, putting a small dent into the helmet, and staggering further. He attempted to bring up his sword to block the obvious next shot, but it was too late. Cassandra fired again. The dent grew larger, deeper, and Resh slammed into the ground.
She kept closing the distance, keeping up the pressure as she fired another shot, handling the intense recoil with stunning efficiency. Even Hourglass couldn't fire one of those things standing, and here she had just done it four times.
A fifth shot, he had stopped moving, stopped trying to block the shots. Hourglass still couldn't hear a thing as his ears kept ringing. The plating cracked with the repeated impacts.
Even as Resh's struggles ceased, Cassandra kept firing. One more shot finally broke through the helmet, pricing straight through and impacting Resh's head, no doubt scattering his brains through the inside of his helmet.
Every subsequent shot traveled through the hole until a shot pierced straight through the other end of the helmet. Liquified gray matter, bone, and blood poured through into the hole made in the building's foundation. Four more shots were fired, long after Resh was dead, just for good measure.
Cassandra ejected the box magazine. It fell to the ground with a soundless crack, and she inserted a smaller one, pulling the lever back. She leveled her rifle back up to his head, but didn't fire. Instead, Cassandra kicked at him with her left boot, before sighing and turning to Hourglass. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he could read her lips.
I thought you said that guy was a threat! Didn't seem like one to me. Maybe you're just getting slow!
In a contrast to Cassandra's tone, Hourglass had a look of pure horror on his face.
"His quirk isn't the sword, he can-!" A cloud of swirling black dust appeared behind Cassandra. She circled to face it, but it coalesced in an instant. Wings of white energy floated by Resh's sides, and a spiked ring appeared around him, before both decaying in a second, flashing in and out of existence.
"-resurrect-"
The caught off guard Cassandra tried to react in time, bringing up her rifle. Resh slashed it in two. He brought up his sword…
And stabbing it straight through her lower chest, impacting her back and exiting out her torso, blood steaming from the silver blade, dripping off alongside broken skin, torn kevlar, and pieces of internal organs.
Resh left the blade inside of her, letting go and grabbing her arms, gently making sure she fell onto her side, rather than onto either side of the blade. In too much pain to resist, Cassandra let it happen, and when he let go, she slowly fell forward, the blade propping her body up as it bent inside of her. She let out a small cry of pain, still hiding most of it.
Resh stood to his feet, striding over towards the downed Hourglass, who couldn't figure out whether it was lucky or unlucky that the adrenaline overdose hadn't knocked him out yet. Hourglass kept his eyes on Resh's expressionless helmet as he approached, gaze narrowed as he took deep, staggered breaths.
Resh crouched down beside him.
"It's a nonlethal wound, Hourglass. I took extra care to miss any vital organs, and while this 'Cassandra' may never walk again, she would live… provided she made it to a hospital in… let's say…" Resh mockingly looked down to his arm, as if staring at an invisible watch, before turning his head back towards Hourglass. "Twenty minutes?" Resh grunted, standing up. "Of course…" walking back, he crouched down behind Cassandra, and laid a single finger on the blade's hilt. "I could just pull the blade out now, sheathing it and watching the room fill with various pieces of her." He stood up again. "Your job is to convince me. Tell me Hourglass, why should I let you and your partner live? What do I stand to gain?"
Resh waited patiently for an answer, as Hourglass mulled over the thoughts in his head. He took a staggered sigh and started speaking.
"You came here to kill me, not her… leave her alone…" Hourglass staggered multiple times, looking down as he spoke. "Take… Take my life… instead."
Resh seemed visually taken aback at Hourglass statements. He wordlessly closed the distance, stepping around the injured Cassandra and once again confronting Hourglass.
"What." was all Resh got out.
"You heard me…" Hourglass coughed. "Cassandra… she's not like me… she's a hero… done good things for a lot of good people… she doesn't deserve to suffer for my actions…"
"Daniel… no…" Cassandra could barely speak, only able to say weak protests before going back to enduring her pain.
"Hmm…" Resh stepped back, crouching down to a level near Cassandra's sunken head. "This is a curious conundrum indeed. You see, the Hourglass I knew was a butcher, a killer, one who murdered first and asked questions later. And yet… no, this isn't right. You can't have had this massive personality shift in only three years!"
Hourglass coughed again. "This is how people work… Resh… three hundred years of bloodshed has dulled your emotions… people can change…"
Resh stood up fully, dusting off his jacket, and ignoring Hourglass' words. "This warrants further investigation. Originally, I came here to murder you, and yet… here we are. Maybe you have changed, maybe you haven't, regardless… I'll be keeping a close eye on you, Daniel Weston."
Resh turned to walk out of the hole he had made. He looked back for one last statement, before Hourglass fell unconscious.
"An ambulance is on its way. I recommend praying to every god you can think of that they can help your partner."
Hourglass's vision went black, his last thought being the sight of his partner, impaled with Resh's blade.