Geten barged into the room.
Trumpet eyed her through his tinted glasses. "Apocrypha. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He said coolly.
"I know about Takame. Why is he under me, why do I not know about him, and what do you and Skeptic know that I don't?" She slammed the door behind her.
"So many questions. Ever the curious one, aren't you?" Trumpet got up from his chair, sighing. "To answer them: Shigaraki made the call, not me, to assign him to your squad. You might not have known because you've simply been becoming more nearsighted. Losing your touch, perhaps?"
"No meta ability was listed on the database. Takame's was omitted. It's not you, nor Skeptic's, to oversee this mistake, is it?" She pushed on with her questioning.
"We're all flawed. Do pardon my error, won't you? And it is my error, not Chikazoku's. Leave him out of this." Putting his hand on his heart, he gave a bow towards her. She balled her fist at this mockery.
"Your theatrics might work on the masses, politician, but not on me. We both know why you're hiding him – them, from me." She growled.
"Then I have no need to explain them to you." Trumpet pushed his glasses up, fixating her with a cool stare.
"You're trying to remove me from my position, aren't you?" The words burst from her mouth in her fury, and desperation. She needed to hear the affirmation, even though she knew that it was mutual knowledge.
She wanted him to say yes, but no – he laughed, the sound of glee melting her hardened glare.
"So afraid...so, so afraid," He said. "You must be mistaken, Apocrypha. I'm simply protecting them. For their safety."
"From me?"
"Yes…" A flicker of annoyance passed over his face before he smiled ruefully once more. "From you."
The silence that followed only heated the tension in the room.
Kill him. Quickly. He's threatening you. She considered it, but recalled what Dabi had said about Shigaraki. Would she be punished if she killed Trumpet right now?
He's lying. Dabi. Shigaraki. Trumpet. They're all deceiving me.
She raised her right arm.
Trumpet immediately swung his right arm forward. A band on his wrist expanded and morphed into…
As Geten brandished her icicles at the politician, she found a gun aimed directly at her forehead.
"Bastard." She whispered. "Guns aren't part of meta abilities. This violates what we stand for."
"I don't take chances." Trumpet's eyes were narrowed. "I had Skeptic make one for me. After all, my meta ability has no effect on you."
"Also, what do we stand for, Apocrypha? What is becoming of our army, now that our supreme leader is dethroned, and in his place, a boy?" He continued, his voice rising, cadence building. "While we establish a new army from the old, and pretend that order is present, I don't see the same within us lieutenants. Then again, I never did even when Re-destro was in power." He rested a finger on the trigger.
"If you kill me," Geten blurted out, her heart thumping against her chest, "Shigaraki will kill you. Will you take that chance?"
One second passed. "No," he answered. Then he enunciated his next words, as clear as her ice. "Leave."
Geten stared at Trumpet the same way she would stare at a wolf. Her expression was like iron, as was his. His gaze bore into her. Show no weakness, she told herself.
She took a step backwards.
She wasn't afraid. She knew she had the same amount of leverage as he did. One discreet movement of her fingers, and he would be impaled against the wall. The same could be said about her. One step back.
She was not afraid. Trumpet had never killed a man before, much less fought one. She was the highest ranking soldier in the Front. He would never pull the trigger. He was bluffing. One step back.
She had never been afraid of Trumpet. The man cowered behind the meat shields that were his followers, barking orders at them, while she fought with every fiber of her being. She had seen blood spilt a thousand times, while he'd probably vomit at the sight of a corpse. One. Step. Back.
Her fingers felt for the door handle, grasping blindly. Had she even blinked once the whole time?
His hand is shaking. He's going to shoot! She screamed at herself, her skin prickling upon sensing danger. Alarm bells rang in her head. But she forced her hand to stay. She kept staring at him.
His face remained impassive throughout. The politician had perfected his mask, but Geten saw through it. He was panicky, terrified of her power and superiority over him. That made him unstable. He was not a calm assassin: just a boy wielding a gun – dangerous.
She found the doorknob. She paused. Will the creaking startle him? Will he shoot? Put up a wall, damn it. She kept her hand steady.
The door opened.
Taking a last step backwards, she threw herself to the left.
There was no loud bang. No pain in her chest. What did it even feel like to be shot? She began to walk in that direction, her legs moving faster than her mind could tell it to.
She walked, her pace brisker than normal. Her heart was beating...her hands were shaking, her legs felt as though they were liquefying, but she didn't make a sound nor stop walking.
Finally, she turned the corner. She collapsed on the floor and exhaled the breath she had been carrying. The breath came out in a horrid gasp, with tears spilling down her face. She quickly looked to the left and right. No one.
Placing a hand on her heart, she took deep breaths, as though she had resurfaced on land after an eternity underwater.
Then she pulled herself against the corridor wall, tucking her knees towards her, and permitted herself to sob into them.
She thought, I'm scared. God, I'm scared.
...
Why?
–––––
The crimson feather at the top of the corridor where Geten was vibrated with the most minute of movements, relaying the sounds back to the winged hero, who was walking right below Apocrypha. He listened to her.
Hm, guess she's afraid of guns. Problem solved, he joked with himself. The humour went sour at the thought of whose expense it was at, as well as the controlled sobs that both dampened his mood and confused him.
He'd marked Apocrypha as one of the more dangerous soldiers on his list, having heard of the sheer power of her quirk from other Deika residents and from Twice. He had rattled on about how she had unleashed a massive glacier that killed both friend and foe during the battle, in order to eliminate his army of clones. Bubaigawara had said it as one of his jokes – Hawks assumed – that he had both cried and laughed at, and while Hawks had chuckled in return, a chill went down his spine at the thought of such a soldier fighting the heroes.
She had seemed so merciless and – to his disgruntlement at the unintentional pun – cold, that hearing her cry was odd. Why was she crying? If he was to believe the stories surrounding this mysterious figure under a hood, Apocrypha had faced hundreds or thousands in combat and probably looked death in the eye many times, something he himself could attest to.
And now here she was, just a few metres above him, sobbing in what he assumed was fear. He was tempted to ask her, but decided against it. Doing so would either stoke more animosity or suspicion. As far as she knew, he was on the League of Villains, the group she considered an enemy.
Still, it seemed that the MLA was no longer her home either. Hawks knew Apocrypha no longer followed Re-destro, albeit she still subscribed to the beliefs of the latter's father. She said as much during that contemplation of hers. He shook his head. Poor girl.
And judging from her earlier interaction with one of the other lieutenants, Hanabata, he doubted her loyalties lied with anyone in particular. In essence, she was blindly following a path she had been misled into in the first place.
Perhaps, and this was a far-fetched idea, even to himself, if he could convince her to join him, the heroes would have a powerful ally when the fight came. Still, his mission was unchanged, and she was not on his list of priorities.
It was someone else within the PLF.
