Geten deftly waded her way through the hospital, wearing her hood that ensured no eye contact was made with anyone. She ignored the moans and groans of the weak, focused only on her destination.

"Apocrypha...please…" The wail of her name caught her attention to one of the hospitalized. She cursed herself for doing so. She was facing a soldier no older than twenty, lying on a bed, shaking with agony. His entire right side was raw with scorch marks, his skin was peeling off and dripping with sweat, water and pus. A visceral sight that made her take two steps back.

Then she saw why he called her name. Placed in between his right armpit were a bunch of melting ice cubes. Water leaked into the bedsheets and onto the floor. On his bedside table lay a plate of more ice. She knew what he wanted.

Without another word, she turned and left, leaving the young man weakly calling after her.

She closed the door behind her, shutting off the nuisance. She was in a private ward now. She heard the sound of breathing tubes, and another voice.

"Apocrypha? What brings you here?" Trumpet stood up from his chair, eyeing her. She noted his right hand reaching for his pocket, supposedly on instinct.

Don't trust me already? That was fast…

"I want to talk to Re-destro," she said, "Alone."

"He's asleep."

She shrugged. "I'm fine with that. Give me a minute with him."

Trumpet's face didn't relax, but he gave a rigid nod and walked to the door. As he opened it, he said, "One minute." Then the door closed behind him.

She approached the bed, her eyes trailing across her leader's broken form, ending at the stumps where his legs once were. It was all covered by a white blanket, but the stumps were visible, a jab to the gut.

Geten knew that his legs were gone. She was the first to attend to him, after all. She saw the bloody mess that poured from his bare kneecaps, but seeing them so perfectly dressed and healed was sickening. It meant a point of no return. Re-destro had lost his legs forever.

No doubt that a replacement set of prosthetic legs would be designed for him, but that was artificial, a pale shadow of what Re-destro once was.

Thinking about this reminded Geten of one of her lessons.

Re-destro massaged his temple, sighing. Geten stood beside him quietly, wondering what his answer would be.

Then she felt pain explode in her chest. She felt weightless, her sight of her leader fading and shrinking fast as distance between them grew. It hit her: he had kicked her away.

"Ah!" She cried, sprawled on the ground, propped up against the wall.

"You ask these questions. It's...stressful for me, Apocrypha. You don't want me to be stressed, do you?" He curled his lip, his eyes staring into her own. She trembled. "No, great leader," she whimpered.

"You asked me what legs were for. And I showed you. To silence redundant, useless questions from the curious. You're too young to be curious." He said in a chiding tone, as if he hadn't just kicked her across the room.

"Curiosity is dangerous, Apocrypha." That was the lesson he wanted her to learn, but she learned something else as well. The function of legs: weapons against the weak. Kick someone to show your superiority and their utter powerlessness against you.

And now...her grand commander had lost his legs. He'd lost a weapon, a tool of...control.

Where are these thoughts coming from? She thought. It's — it's not right. Stop.

She took a step back. This was wrong. Her mind felt fuzzy, with too many thoughts surging through. If her brain was an ocean, the waves were rough, thrashing uncontrollably. A storm was brewing.

"Grand. Commander." She enunciated the words as clear as Arctic ice, reminding herself of her place, demanding that other side of her, the one that began to question, to stay silent.

She stared at him.

"You must have a plan, yes? To take back your place. I know you would not share it with me. I am a mere weapon, but please…tell me this nightmare will end soon." She blinked back tears.

Then she remembered how he looked after the battle. That look of defeat on his face was an expression she recognised on the enemies Re-destro ordered her to destroy.

What could it mean? She wondered.

The door swung open like a gale had struck it. Trumpet stood there, arms crossed, silent. Geten understood the message just fine. She withdrew from the room without sparing the man a glance or a word. She had no complaints either. The more time she spent in that room, the more her thoughts drifted into dangerous waters.


"Not gonna lie, I'm surprised," Dabi said as he looked up from the bag, "How'd you do it?"

Hawk's eyes glinted like iron under the sun. Without another word, he shot his right arm out towards a metal pipe. Dabi just barely managed to catch a glimpse of a small white object shoot through the air and slice the pipe cleanly in two.

Dabi snorted, "Showoff." Behind his back, he extinguished the flame in his right hand that had ignited in reaction to Hawk's sudden action.

"I did what you wanted," Hawks said.

Did you though?

"I guess you did." Dabi smiled and offered a handshake, which Hawks took. "Come to Deika City on Saturday. You'll know everything."

Hawks raised an eyebrow, but seemed to accept the odd proposal. "Alright. See you then. What do you want with this?" He pointed at the bag.

Dabi aimed his palm at it, making Hawks take two steps back. A flame poured forth from his hand, engulfing the flame entirely.

"That was satisfying," Dabi breathed in the scent of burning flesh. He didn't quite enjoy it though. He knew he would have enjoyed it even more if it actually were the body of Best Jeanist.

His eyes met with Hawks', who said nothing in reply.

"See you then." Hawks gave his own smile, before he took flight and left.

Dabi watched his body slowly shrink until it became a grey spot in the sky. Could he still see him? Hear him? Dabi could not tell. There was a lot Hawks was not telling him, but to be fair, it was the same vice versa.

He looked down at the bag again, which was now charred black, smouldering. He tried to imagine Best Jeanist's screams, but he just couldn't. He had not had the pleasure of hearing the hero's cries at Kamino. Now this fake corpse was silent. This plume of flame was quiet too.

There was only one fire that was silent right? Now there's two...

He growled, kicking the bag against the wall. There was no satisfaction from this.

I'd kill you right now, Hawks, if you weren't giving me other heroes to burn.

He placed the communicator earpiece in his ear. "Ujiko. Take me back."