"...What?"

The single utterance of the word sent shivers up Shinsou's spine as he stared wide-eyed at the man laying next to him. He felt his diaphragm spasm, raggedly drawing in more air than he could handle, the rush of oxygen straining the weak, ballooned pleura. He froze solid, skin growing paler by the moment as Jackrabbit raised his arm up into the air, looking up with a mild curiosity as he splayed his palm, curling and uncurling his fingers. The gloves he wore were thick, made of some sort of rubbery material that had an eggshell color. Upon closer inspection, they carried a faint reddish tint, which once noticed could not be unseen.

As if drawn up by strings, this green haired stranger lifted himself into a sitting position, slowly placing his hands on the floor to provide him with a better balance. He blinked a few times, half-lidded eyes soaking up the details of the bare-bones apartment around him. Eventually, he turned his head, looking down to stare at the other man in the apartment, who looked as if he would die of a heart attack at any moment.

"...What did you do?" He bluntly asked, causing the purple haired vigilante to flinch.

"I... I don't- I thought I-... Uh..." He stumbled over his words, his mind unable to find the answer to what he actually did.

"I'm not supposed to be awake. You did something." He braced his hands against the floor, pushing himself up to his feet in a single, fluid motion. "Why did you wake me up?"

Shinsou felt the edges of his vision darken as the scent of something acrid flooded his nose. He didn't know what was going on, this is all wrong. The overwhelming sensations he experienced while diving into this killer's brain completely annihilated his senses, and all that was left was the feeling that he had made things a lot worse.

"...What are you?" He slurred out, his mouth seemingly speaking for itself.

"I'm the Avatar." He immediately responded. "I'm here to cleanse the filth of this world."

The vigilante wasn't sure how to respond. He felt his jaw fall slack, staring wordlessly back at the assassin standing over him.

Jackrabbit didn't wait for Shinsou to gain his composure- he strode off into the bedroom down the hall, leaving the purple haired man on his own.

The former hostage used the solitude as an opportunity to slowly push himself to his feet, putting his entire weight on the wall behind him. He felt beads of sweat forming on his brow as he closed his eyes, struggling to regain his breath.

The moment the pace of his heart was starting to slow, it was immediately jolted again by the sound of the front door slamming open. Shinsou's head snapped to the sound of the noise, watching as the Caretaker strode through, wearing the same medical mask as before. The hooded man's fists were clenched, mumbling something under his breath as he shook his head. He barely paid any mind to the purple haired man, not even noticing his extremely distressed condition as he brushed past him and stomped down the hallway.

Just as he approached the bedroom, the door swung open and revealed Jackrabbit, his wardrobe changed to something more conspicuous: a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt that read "tuxedo" on it in katakana. Jackrabbit wordlessly held a duffle bag out, which the Caretaker snatched from his hands. He paused for a moment, before looking down at the floor and turning to head to the door.

"Make sure you get to bed when you can." He ordered the assassin, not even casting a glance at the other inhabitant before storming out the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

The green haired man simply stared back, watching the entire thing unfold. Eventually, he made his way back to the living room, heading for the door.

"...Why didn't you say anything to him?" Shinsou abruptly called out, a hand instinctively slamming over his mouth as if to retroactively stop the words from coming out.

"There wasn't any reason for me to, why would I?" He shrugged, stating his answer as if it was obvious. He turned to face the door.

"Wait!" The vigilante replied, causing Jackrabbit to immediately pause mid-step. He spun on his heel, facing his unwilling roommate.

"What do you want?"

"I just... I don't understand." He sighed, pressing his back further into the wall. "What did you mean, 'you woke up'?"

"...I'm not supposed to be here. You did something to change that... but you don't know, do you?" He paused. "...Is that your Defect?"

"...Defect?"

"Yes, Defect. They've become the backbone of your society. They're the reason this world is falling into decay."

"I don't..." He looked down, struggling to find an answer for the cryptic question he was given. "I... Wait... You mean Quirks?"

"Is that what you call them?" He asked, his tone sounding almost uninterested.

"Like... people being able to fly, or control water... or make others inebriated..." He trailed off, digging the nail of his thumb into his palm.

"Yes, those things. Those are Defects. Their only purpose is to sow evil into the world."

"I'm not- They're not like that!" Shinsou gritted his teeth, gaze sharpening at the blithe assassin in front of him.

"That's what they are-"

"I'm ordering you: Call them Quirks from now on!"

Jackrabbit's words died in his mouth, silently staring back at the man in front of him.

"...As you command." He definitively stated.

The vigilante pursed his lips, his glare sharpening as he got a better grasp of the situation. While he couldn't escape the incessant churning of his stomach, he managed to establish a few things- namely, that this thing was able to talk now, and he didn't appear to be in any immediate danger. He held a position of authority over this assassin, and if he was to figure out just what he was in, he would need to find out everything he could.

"Why did you call them Defects?"

Jackrabbit's back stiffened, as if some kind of righteous indignation came over him. "They're just pale mockeries of the Blessings those like me have received. These... Quirks... are nothing more than the result of humanity languishing. If that's the only question you have, I have other duties to attend to right now. The Caretaker has ordered me to sleep."

Shinsou paused, weighing his options. It was true that he couldn't predict if he had a chance to speak again with this... whoever this was. But pressing his luck could be even riskier. He closed his eyes, sighing through his nose as he tried to judge the situation. But his mind was still muddled with all the events of the past 30 minutes. He realized that the state of his mind alone showed he wasn't fit to force this thing to stay as long as he wanted.

"Fine. Just one more question for you, then you can go." He paused, trying to stave off the defeated tone of his voice. "What is your name?"

The green haired killer paused for a moment, before responding. "I wasn't given a name. I don't need one."

"...Then call yourself Jackrabbit." Shinsou immediately batted back. "You need to call yourself something."

"I don't understand what you mean." He replied, turning the handle of the doorknob. "...But I'll do as you command."

The moment Jackrabbit closed the door behind him, Shinsou felt his legs give out from under him, sending him crashing back to the floor that he found himself on. He clutched his head, hair trenched between his fingers as he felt delirium take over once more. He closed his eyes, feeling his consciousness slip away, replacing itself with a serene nothingness.

He knew he would have to organize his thoughts eventually, but now... now was not the time. He could barely keep a grasp on reality, and nothing in the waking world would help with that right now. The vigilante felt his extremities grow numb as he felt the floor sway beneath him, and it wasn't long before he was whisked away into the world of the unconscious.

The last thing he thought was that this was the second time in a week that he fell asleep on a cold, hard floor when a soft bed wasn't too far away.

At least it was better than the chair the Yakuza gave him, he conceded.

Tsukauchi fluffed the collar of his trench coat as he sauntered down the halls of the precinct. His eyes were locked into a fierce gaze, a spark of fire building underneath the irises that warned all those around him to disengage and get out of his way. He could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as his fists clenched, his knuckles a pale white as they peeked out of the cuffs of his sleeves.

He didn't bother to stop for coffee, his heart was beating fast enough. He felt his mouth shift uncomfortably as a mixture of frustration and rage blew through his brain. If one leaned in closely enough, they could hear the gears in his head clacking together, spinning so furiously that they groaned and sparked... He had a lead just on the cusp of his brain, but now he had to figure out a way to extract it from that wretched man-

"Detective Tsukauchi!" A booming voice barked behind him, causing his shoulders to seize as he stopped in his tracks. The detective turned to face the stern, dog-faced gaze of his direct superior.

"Chief Tsuragamae." He tersely called back, not moving from his spot in the middle of the hallway. The air felt as if it was rapidly thickening, with the rest of the traffic stopped as the officers and lieutenants quietly stared at the duo.

"Office. Now." The police chief waved his hand, retreating back into his private room as he beckoned his subordinate to follow. The detective strode past the crowd, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.

"I've noticed you've been avoiding me more than usual, woof." He noted, crossing his arms as he quietly lowered himself into the leather chair behind his desk. "Is there something you should be telling me?"

"Nothing to report, sir." Tsukauchi quickly rebutted, keeping a hand on the door handle. "We're still in the process of gathering leads. It's progressing slowly."

"Is that so?" The Chief cocked his head to the side, staring intently at the other occupant of the room. "Do ace detectives try to forge approval slips to visit Tartarus because they feel like it, then? You're lucky I didn't tell the prison staff to detain you when they called in to verify the paperwork I allegedly signed. Take a seat."

The detective's face hardened as he slowly let go of the door, moving to one of the wooden chairs placed directly in front of his superior's desk. As he sat down, he saw Tsuragamae slightly settle back further into his own.

The Chief of Police shook his head. "Why would you do that?"

"Would you have let me go there if I asked?"

"Of course not!" He slammed his fist on the desk, the unbridled anger bursting out of his throat. "There's only one person there that you would have any reason to speak with- That... monster- He would only use you for his own personal ends, you can't trust anything he has to say! And for goodness' sake, you decided to go on the day before All Might Day-"

"I don't care what day it is!" Tsukauchi bit back, jerking his splayed palms around emphatically. "Right now we've got next to nothing on this killer- we can't keep going to mass murder scenes and pick up the scraps that the cleaners leave behind!"

Tsuragamae sighed, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "I hate to see you behave like this. Don't act like this isn't affecting you, we both know it is."

The two of them sat in silence, neither of them looking at each other. This went on for several minutes, before the Chief finally decided to speak up.

"Did you at least get anything useful out of All for One?"

"...He managed to describe our killer fairly accurately."

The dog-faced police officer snapped his head to face his subordinate, eyes wide in complete shock. "What?!"

"He said he is willing to divulge what he knows, but he wants something in exchange."

"We're not giving him special privileges, woof." Tsuragamae huffed definitively. "That bastard can rot in hell for all I care-"

"He just wants to speak with Katsuki Bakugou. Nothing more."

"Ground Zero? Ah... I see." He rapped the tips of his fingers against the arm of his chair. "It figures. Gloating over you isn't enough for him."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The detective looked back, staring back at his superior.

"...Apologies, I was only thinking out loud. Speaking of, how have things been with him?"

"He's exactly as I imagined he would be. Foul-mouthed and impulsive... but he's caught on quickly. If he can keep himself in check, he's got a lot of potential."

"And his... outbursts?"

"Not so much as a single spark."

"That's rather surprising, it's far different from the brash young man I remember, woof."

"Well, I don't think he's doing it in a healthy manner." Tsukauchi crossed his arms as he leaned slightly forward, gaze planted on his feet. "I've seen him flinch when he gets angry. It's barely subtle, but... it's there. I think he's genuinely scared of his quirk."

"I see... is this because of the incident?"

"Yeah... that's my guess. I don't think I can really blame him, though. And knowing him... the fact that he only got off with administrative leave as punishment probably made it worse for him."

"Do you think he'll be willing to speak with All for One?"

"There's only one way to find out." The detective sighed pushing himself to his feet. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me?"

"No. If Bakugou agrees to speak with him, I'll allow it." He paused. "...Tsukauchi, is there anything else you're not telling me?"

He shook his head, looking his superior straight in the eye. "No. That was all."

"...Very well, you may go."

Tsukauchi bowed to his superior before turning heel and marching out of the room. The instant the door opened, those lingering in the hall instantly startled to life, scattering in different directions to avoid prolonged contact with the antagonizing detective.

He sighed, the heels of his shoes clicking against the harsh tile as he marched back to his office. It wasn't hard to feel the sting of people staring at his back; he clenched his teeth behind his closed lips, reaching his hand in his pocket to brush his fingers against the clammy plastic casing of Rappa's recovered burner phone.

When he arrived back at his office, it was just as empty as usual, save for the brooding countenance of Bakugou Katsuki. Much to the detective's surprise, he was immersed in case files, his face buried in a report and only his bright, platinum blonde hair peeking from over the brim of the reports in the folder he balanced between his fingertips. As the door clicked shut, he snapped the files closed, fiery red eyes staring passively at his superior.

"You're late." He snidely remarked. "Did you get hungover or something?"

"I haven't drunk anything in years." Tsukauchi answered humorlessly. A slight rise in tone told the pro hero that he hit a very sore spot. "I can reinstate your administrative leave whenever I like, so I'd suggest you show a little bit of forethought before you say something stupid like that again."

The immediate hostile reaction caught Bakugou off guard, knocking him into silence. He jerked his head away, clicking his tongue as he settled himself back into the reports in his hand.

"Whatever," he sighed under his breath. "so are we just going to read this shit or do you want me to just wander around this place again?"

"No, no..." Tsukauchi shook his head. "You were lucky last time. Originally, I was under the impression Jackrabbit would stay in Kabukicho... that isn't the case anymore. And there's no chance we'd be able to scour for him through even just Ikebukuro, let alone the rest of Tokyo."

"What then? We don't have any other leads."

"Well... we do, actually." The detective paused, clenching his fists in his pockets. "Bakugou... I need you to put the report down for a second.

The pro hero huffed in mild exasperation, tossing the amber brown folder haphazardly on the table. He leaned forward, pursing his lips as he stared his superior down.

"You mentioned that he may have more than one quirk. You know who that points to, don't you?"

The blonde man didn't verbally respond, but the intense furrowing of his eyebrows and the drastic darkening of his irises confirmed the answer to the detective.

"...I went to Tartarus to speak with him. He knows who this is, and he's willing to give us what he knows."

"...but?" Bakugou interjected, his voice lowering almost to a growl.

"...You're the one he wants to talk to. He won't give us the info unless it's you."

They both unwaveringly stared at each other, neither of them so much as moving a single centimeter as they did their best to put up a strong front for the other. The air between them was tense, so much so that it felt like a single misstep would set the world on fire. Tsukauchi could feel the intense gaze of his subordinate burning a hole into him, but he refused to back down, his own determination manifesting in a stone cold, dutiful expression.

Neither of them were sure how long it was that they would remain like that, but it was eventually broken by the pro hero. He stood up, blinking slowly as he pushed his chair back.

"I'm going for a smoke break." He muttered, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket. He re-centered his gaze on the detective, almost challenging him to keep him there.

"And when will you be back?" Tsukauchi coldly asked.

"When I feel like it." He bit back.

It wasn't long before Tsukauchi relented. He nodded his head in the direction of the door, silently giving the other person permission to leave. Bakugou slowly walked to the door, roughly brushing against the detective's shoulder on the way out. He remained there, unmoving, as he heard the door open and slam shut behind him.

The detective's shoulders slumped as he was left alone in the room, sighing in exhaustion as he fell into the flimsy chair behind his desk. He nestled his face in his hands, closing his eyes as he tried to gather his own thoughts.

A part of his brain was yelling at him that he didn't take a hard enough stance, or that he shouldn't have been as acquiescent in letting him leave, but... there was no way he'd be able to force Bakugou to talk to one of the vilest men in the world. Not after that fight... even he could barely stand to speak with him, he couldn't imagine how his subordinate could feel after everything he was put through.

He breathed in, collecting himself as he lifted his head up.

No, he thought. Strictly speaking, Bakugou was impulsive, but he's also exhibited a great deal of rationality since they began working with each other. He knew the pro hero was probably seething right now, but... once he calmed down, it's almost certain that he'd agree this would be the best route forward.

He just had to wait for the right time.

Another shift at Takamagahara, greeting customers with a smile and filling their orders out.

Izuku was almost completely operating on auto-pilot, doing his best to maintain his cheerful disposition while he worked the machines. It wasn't a particularly intensive process- his gaiety was a reflexive action.

He briefly flashed back to his interview with the owner, a rather uptight looking woman with a tailored suit- she had introduced herself as Ameno Minaka. He could feel his body tremble as her burning yellow eyes pierced his body, exacerbated by the horrible stuttering he choked out as he did his best to answer her questions. Once the questions were over, he recalled sitting there in a dreadful silence as she stared him down for a couple of minutes. Eventually, she broke the gaze as she pushed the thin framed glasses from the edge of her nose up to the bridge.

"Normally I wouldn't hire someone with zero experience, seeing as we are a specialty coffee shop," She noted bluntly, causing her applicant to practically jump out of his skin, "but I'll make an exception in your case. You've practically got that smile painted onto your face, and honestly even I wouldn't hesitate to buy something I can make for free if you asked."

Izuku felt his mind drag itself back to the present, as he mindlessly packed another portafilter. She was probably right... even on the days he felt his worst, he could feel his smile yank at the corners of his mouth, the small wrinkles on the outer edges of his eyes slightly deepening as he cheerfully welcomed the next round of guests through the door.

He let out a small sigh as he served the last customer in the line and sent them on their way. At least he was good at this, that had to count for at least something.

"O-oh, uh... Hey." A familiar voice weakly came from the front of the counter. The barista immediately recognized it; all of his subconscious movements ground to a screeching halt as he froze in place, the bag of coffee beans in his hands almost spilling out as he scrunched it tightly. He spun around to see Yuuki, hands just barely gripping the edge of the work surface as he stared at a spot on the floor near the place Izuku was standing. His face was flush, a small tinge of red coloring his cheekbones as he hunched his shoulders in embarrassment.

It took a second for the green-haired man to process the words being muttered at him. He shook his head, feeling his lips quiver up into a brighter grin as he slowly approached the acquaintance he left on an awkward note just the day before.

"Welcome... Welcome back!" He nervously chirped out, doing his best not to clutch his churning stomach as he felt his eyes wander around the room, looking at anything but the vampiric looking man in front of him.

They both stood in a tense silence, the only noise outside of the din of the shop being their nervous sighs and choked half-syllables they grunted at each other.

"I'm sorry-" They blurted out simultaneously at each other, cutting themselves off as they physically recoiled and slapped a hand over their own mouths. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and frightened, as if they were expecting the other to attack.

"I- uh... I'm sorry." Yuuki murmured between his fingers. "About the library. I just wanted to say that."

"N-No, I-" Izuku stuttered, slamming his hands on the countertop with a bit more force than he anticipated. "...I should be the one apologizing. I blew things out of proportion."

The vampiric looking man shook his head, pursing his lips. "No, I probably would have done the same. It's... It's no big deal."

The barista looked down, feeling his smile twist and contort as he thought about what he was told. It was true, this person appeared to have a lot of parallels to him... just as quirkless as he was, and probably bullied throughout his upbringing. It was unfortunately common... and in the grand scope of things his own experiences probably didn't deviate that far from the norm. His reaction to tear out the pages of his own notebook were probably as justified as his own.

"Do you want to try again?" Izuku asked. Just as soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened as he slammed his hands over his mouth. His mind revved into overdrive, a million different voices in his head crying in anxious fear over dropping a question like that on someone who had just had a terrible experience the last time they met.

"I- u-uh... Oh!" The question genuinely caught Yuuki off guard, his mouth falling agape to reveal the set of fangs that peeked out just over the brim of his lips. He fidgeted for a brief moment, before covering his mouth as he looked away. His cheeks burned brightly as he stared at the pristine tile floor.

"I-I... Yeah... I think we could... you know, do that." He replied, his voice muffled by his hand. "Would... ah- would tomorrow work for you?"

The barista looked over at the shift calendar on the wall, seeing what his hours were. He felt a ball of ice build in his stomach as he saw the words emblazoned on the next day's space- "ALL MIGHT REMEMBRANCE DAY."

He felt his legs go weak as the realization hit him. He had the day off- he had requested it months ago, and his boss was more than happy to approve the vacation time- but it was for his own mental wellbeing than anything else. The parades, the celebrations, the ceaseless amount of chatting about how amazing the deceased pro hero was... he couldn't take it. Not when it was his fault-

His hand instinctively rose to his chest, clutching at his heart and crumpling the dress shirt he wore as part of his uniform. This reaction was not lost on Yuuki, whose nervous expression morphed into that of concern.

"...Should... should we try sometime later-"

"No!" Izuku cut him off, his tone sounding a lot harsher than he meant to. He winced at the gut reaction, shaking his head to try to gain some semblance of clear thought. The world was going to celebrate the passing of All Might, and nothing he was going to do would stop it. Someone was offering to spend their time with him, and he felt he didn't have the right to refuse their request. "...Sorry. No, we can do something tomorrow."

"O-okay, cool!" Yuuki replied, still taken aback by the inconsistent reactions of the barista. "What would you like to do?"

The barista was internally screaming, unsure of whether or not he was arranging a meet-up or trying to convince a cornered squirrel not to bolt with his plainly erratic behavior.

"I- uh... I don't... W-why don't you stop... by my place and... we can f-figure out... where to go?" He stammered, ending the question on a tone that sounded like he was unsure if that's what he actually wanted to say.

Yuuki's eyes widened, his face turning a darker shade of red at the suggestion. "U-uh... yeah... we can- W-We can do that!"

The two of them sighed in relief as the awkward negotiations came to an end, settling on a plan of action. Before either of them could continue the conversation, the tinny chime on the door rang out to announce some new entrants, a group of six police officers all energetically chatting with each other as they approached the counter. The young vampiric man quickly turned and refocused his attention back on the barista, covering his mouth as he smiled.

"Y-you can text me your address, right? I've gotta go for now, but I'm looking forward to it!"

Izuku barely got a nod in before Yuuki turned and practically bolted out of the door, sidestepping the cops as he disappeared into the streets.

As the policemen approached the counter, he could feel his defensive smile immediately rise to the surface as he cheerfully greeted the cops as he took their orders.

The smile he wore was, as always, not as sincere as it looked, but at least for now he found it easier to don than normal.

When Bakugou was actively working as a pro hero, he did what he could to stay out of his home as much as possible. Whether it was behind the desk or (preferably) on the streets, he made it a point to stay on the job as long as he could. Most nights, he could be found sleeping at the office's bunk barracks if there was an empty bed, or at his desk if there wasn't. The only time he was ever at his apartment was when he needed a change of clothing.

One look at his apartment would be enough to understand why- it was a small, run down studio apartment deep in an alleyway in Sanya. The exterior and surrounding areas were relatively clean- but the woefully underlit, aged plastic signs and the plethora of long-foreclosed shops belied the history of a town that was losing its vitality over time.

The pro hero stomped up the half-rusted, exterior metal staircase that led up to the floor where his domicile lay. The hollow aluminum door creaked on its hinges as it opened, the soft light illuminating the inside of his only room; the walls were a crude off-white, specks of grime permanently fused into the material. A damp smell permeated the floor, a disgusting scent that lingered on his body- he made it a point to visit the bathhouse as often as he could to dissuade it from attaching itself to him. The roof itself was covered in yellow splotches, testaments to the multiple times he and the previous residents relieved their stress by chain smoking a pack of cigarettes.

This time was no different. He reached into his pocket, producing a blue and purple pack of Mevius. He flipped the carton open with his thumb, crunching the box as he pulled one out and placed it between his lips. He slid his fingers from the butt of the cig down to the tip, resting it between his thumb and index finger. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose as he felt his fingertips twitch in place. It would take no effort at all, just a simple spark-

He sighed, opening his eyes as he lowered his hand. He dug through his pockets a second time, producing a dingy silver Zippo lighter. He flicked it open with little fanfare, using the small flame inside to ignite the end of the tobacco. He jerked his wrist, the momentum causing the lid to swing on its hinge and slam shut with a satisfying clunk, starving the flame of its oxygen and extinguishing the lighter. He briefly stared at the side of the casing, scowling as he read the phrase engraved into the lackluster metal.

"The most precious things cannot be seen." It read, in an almost mocking tone. He sighed, dropping the item back into his pants pocket. He inhaled momentarily before blowing the drag of smoke out of the side of his mouth, watching with disdain as the foul-smelling plume rose into the air to soak into the ceiling tiles.

He furrowed his brow, taking another drag as he turned to look at his apartment. The futon lay in a crumpled pile, shoved into a corner. There was a small pillow casually tossed aside, which was really the only other piece of furniture in the room. The corner opposite of his "bed" had a small countertop with a sink, a small minifridge perched on the far end.

The only item of note in the kitchen area was a set of whisky glasses and a decanter. It was the only item seemingly untouched by the filth of his living quarters, the small bits of light streaking into the grimy window twinkling against the goldish rim of the drinking set.

His mind immediately flashed back to the time he received this gift. The manager of the office had presented them as a gift for joining the municipal department in Yanaka, one of the neighboring historical districts. He had boasted that he had taken this position because "He was better than those annoying private hero offices," which he assume was interpreted by his boss that he had turned them down for a much lower paying public position, and not because he had not received a single request from a larger agency and this appeared to be the only position willing to take him. He was profusely thanked for his generosity and austerity, the glass set meant for "drinking to our future successes, now that they finally have the legacy of a Yuuei student behind their public image."

The sound of something shattering against the wall snapped Bakugou back to reality. The cigarette filter was crunched between his teeth, flooding his tongue with a bitter taste. His shoulder was hunched over, arm slowly swaying to the side. It took him a second to realize what exactly just happened- he had grabbed one of the glasses, spun around and chucked it to the wall behind him. It left a noticeable size dent in the wall, accentuated by the shards of glass nestled on the floor beneath the point of impact.

A dead rage sat in the core of his chest, twisting his heart in a coil that threatened to suffocate him. He felt his hands tremble as he clutched his chest, shakily exhaling as he felt his legs wobble beneath him. He leaned back, placing a hand against the counter, feeling it creak under him as he shifted as much of his weight as he could onto it.

It wasn't long before there was a hard rap on the other side of his door. He sighed, shaking his head as he spat out his half smoked cigarette into the sink. He pushed himself to his feet again, lightly smacking himself on his cheek as he scowled.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya!" He called out, his gruff voice aggravated by the throat irritation caused from the smoking. "It was an accident, okay? You know what a fucking accident is, right-"

The words died in his throat as he swung the door open, revealing the last thing he expected to see. A man clad in a teal biker helmet and purple sleeveless puffer jacket stared back at him, visor obscuring any ability to discern his facial features. They both stared wordlessly at each other for a while, both seemingly unsure how to greet the other. The visitor eventually raised his hands, carrying a single glass that looked exactly like the one the pro hero had just smashed.

"I picked this up on the way here." He began, his deadpan tone giving away no emotion whatsoever. "I take it from the noise that you'll need this?"

Bakugou stared down at the glass, then back up at his unfortunate acquaintance.

"What, you some kind of psychic, too?"

"Not quite. It's not something I can explain." He replied, moving his hands up slightly as he gestured for the blonde to take the gift. "Please take the glass. We need to talk."

With a somewhat bewildered glare, Bakugou snatched the glass from the man's hands, shuffling over to the counter to place it in the spot the original was in. He turned back to his guest, who had not bothered to move himself from beyond the door frame.

"So are you going to come in, or what?"

The Biker cocked his head to the side. "Would you rather we go somewhere else?"

The pro hero paused, furrowing the brow as he processed the question. Literally any place was better than this shithole, he reasoned, there wasn't any real reason to turn the request down. Besides, his disdain for his own home was probably clear to anyone who saw the squalor he lived in.

"Fine. There's a Matsuya down the street. Should be open for a few hours. That good with you?"

The neon clad man took a step back, gesturing towards the stairwell.

"Lead the way."

It didn't take long for them to walk to the fast food restaurant. The Biker declined to order anything, opting to sit down at one of the small tables wedged in the back. Bakugou shoved a 500 yen coin into the ticket machine, ordering a spicy kimchi gyudon, before taking the seat opposite of the stranger. Both sat in awkward silence as they waited for the food to arrive, not wanting to discuss anything in front of any potential eavesdroppers. It wasn't long before the server strode to the table, thanking them for waiting as he presented them with the beef bowl and a complimentary miso soup bowl. As soon as the server disappeared to the back of the kitchen, leaving them free to speak in the otherwise empty restaurant.

"You don't wish to speak with All for One." The Biker bluntly stated, causing the pro hero to immediately freeze up.

"How did you know that?" He bit back, folding his arms across his chest.

"How I know doesn't matter, it wouldn't make sense to you anyway." The other man shook his head, rapping his index finger on the polished table surface. "Why won't you speak with him?"

"What, your ESP not giving you the obvious answer?" Bakugou grunted, biting his tongue. "Of course I don't want to talk with him. That bastard ruined everything, and now he wants to talk with me? Fuck that. I refuse."

"Are you sure that's the wisest choice?"

"Wise?! He destroyed heroes for fun! My career ended before it fucking started because of him! And All Might- he..." The pro hero trailed off, looking back up towards The Biker with a hate filled glower. "On the day before All Might Day of all times, too. I don't care what that piece of shit wants, he can rot for all I care."

"I see." He replied. The stranger silently stared at the blonde, his thoughts completely unclear behind his helmet.

"Is that it?" He sneered. "You called me out here for a reason, and all you're gonna do is ask why I'm not speaking with some freak-"

"Millions will die." The Biker cut him off.

"...The fuck did you just say?" Bakugou intoned, his scowl deepening as he felt the color drain from his face.

"If you refuse to speak with All for One, then your quest to stop the killer will be forever stalled. Millions will die if that happens."

"And you expect me to believe you?"

"If I could make you believe me, I would have done it already. I am simply telling you what I know."

The purely rational part of Bakugou's brain rejected this claim outright. But... something stirred inside him, a sensation that was hard to describe brought on by the assertion this stranger made. It was as if he was being told a kind of universal truth, something with so much certainty that he could feel its weight in the pit of his stomach. He had never experienced anything like this before.

"You saw through the killer's abilities." The Biker added. "That shows that you're inextricably linked to him, whether you like it or not. And I believe I was meant to witness the two of you reuniting."

"Reuniting?" The pro hero repeated, his tone significantly de-escalated. "Explain."

"You can't just see through something like that, they're not... they're not something that can be counteracted like that." He paused. "The reason you noticed him is because he means something to you. I don't know the specifics, but... he had to be significant to you somehow."

Bakugou ground his teeth, glaring at the table as he considered what he was told. He couldn't deny that upon reflection, there seemed to be just the vaguest sense of dread and nostalgia that passed through his chest as he watched Jackrabbit part the crowd, everyone seemingly blocking his presence out as they went about their nightlife. But whoever that could be... it wasn't coming to him.

The Biker watched as the pro hero sat there, staring at his reflection in the polished table's sheen as he considered what he was told. He eventually pushed himself out of the chair, standing to the side of the table.

"It's time I take my leave." He announced to the other occupant of the restaurant. "I wish I could be more substantive, but... I hope what I gave you was enough to make the right choice. Enjoy your meal."

By the time Bakugou looked up, the mysterious visitor was already gone.

Shinsou stood in front of the exit, hands limply hanging by his hips as he stared at the silvery doorknob. It was one simple action between him and freedom, all he had to do was reach out and turn the handle...

He gulped, blinking rapidly as beads of sweat formed on his brow. He wasn't being held hostage- the Caretaker had emphasized that many times already. He could leave all this behind, find some cheap place to hide out as he tried to gather what remained of his life, eking out some form of normalcy...

As long as the Yakuza weren't looking out for him, that is.

He did his best to calm his nerves. No, he had to make a decision one way or another. And he couldn't accept being isolated from the outside world any longer.

He slowly reached up, fingers lightly pressing against the cold metallic surface. He paused, closing his eyes to muster up as much courage as he could-

And then immediately yelped as he felt the knob swivel under his grasp. He stumbled back, landing on his already sore behind as he tripped over himself. The door swung open, and the former vigilante was greeted with the deadened expression of his green haired savior-captor, who stood in the frame as he wordlessly stared down at the embarrassed purple haired young adult.

Jackrabbit broke the gaze, stepping inside as he closed the door behind him. Throwing his duffel bag to the side, he stepped forward and grabbed Shinsou by the underside of his arm, smoothly pulling him up to his feet.

Shinsou was somewhat surprised by the gesture- not just the act itself but with the strange gentleness in which it was carried out. The killer showed a great deal of strength, practically lifting him with no more effort than a puppet on strings. But despite that, it wasn't rough; he practically couldn't feel the grip on his arm, and the possibility of it leaving a bruise seemed completely out of the question.

The former vigilante snapped his head to the side, his veins flooding with a sense of fear and dread as the cold, stony eyes of the other denizen of the apartment pierced his. He gulped, his mind screaming at him to say something but not providing him the ability to do so.

"I... Thanks... I think."

He swore he saw the slightest of flashes of emotion in Jackrabbit's face- was it confusion... frustration... maybe both? For all he knew it was his own mind playing tricks on him.

The assassin didn't respond, simply turning to pick his bag back up and proceed down the hallway.

"Wait-" Shinsou called out, the order forcing Jackrabbit to immediately halt. "-You did speak this morning, right? I didn't imagine it?"

The other person paused, turning his head only slightly to look at him from over his shoulder.

"Of course I did. You were the one who woke me up."

His response brought a mix of relief and dread as he recalled the strange sensation he experienced while diving into his roommate's mind. That psychological explosion amidst the cold void- was that he was referring to?

"Explain what you mean by 'waking you up.'" Shinsou commanded, his curiosity temporarily fueling his bravery.

"It's exactly what I meant." He replied, leaving the door open as he stepped into the bedroom. "Certain subsystems are needed to keep this body functioning, but they don't need to be active. Somehow you aroused them and woke me up. I don't need to explain it further."

Shinsou slowly stepped down the hallway. He pressed his shoulder into the wall next to the bedroom door frame, leaning in to peer into the living quarters. He was greeted with the sight of this person, facing away from him and shirtless, clad in the green pants and red shoes of his signature outfit. Despite his thin frame, he exhibited an almost unnatural musculature, his arms and back practically rippling with strength as he slipped into the top of his jumpsuit. He pulled out the varsity jacket from his bag, swinging it around his body as he thrust his arms through the sleeves. He produced the final two pieces of his attire- he splayed his fingers as he put on his pristinely white gloves, but his hood he left off, the muzzle and cloth hanging limply from his hands as he turned to look back at the person watching him.

Shinsou quickly pushed himself back, another jolt of fear surging through him as he quickly retreated back into the living room, quickly placing himself on the couch. It wasn't long before Jackrabbit exited the bedroom, staring at the other man from across the hallway.

Feeling a rising sense of dread in his stomach, the former vigilante quickly found a new line of discussion.

"Does the Caretaker get the supplies you need? I've been needing to get some things."

"No. I get what I need myself. The people of Japan are more than happy to provide for me." He replied. "You could do the same."

"N-No." Shinsou replied, taken aback by the unexpected response. "I can't just leave, there's... people looking for me. The same people you rescued me from. Can't you get something for me?"

"I don't know what you want."

The former vigilante slammed his eyes shut, clenching his fists as his head lowered. True, he could give him a list, but it wasn't likely that something not quite human who gained consciousness the same day would be able to get it right. And plus, if he was able to help out...

He bit his tongue, feeling his heart race as he raised his voice once again.

"Then... take me with you!" He commanded. "And do whatever you can to keep me out of trouble while we're out."

"...Very well." Jackrabbit monotonously acknowledged the order, grabbing the mask by the elastic rim as he pulled his over his dense mop of green hair. He pulled it taut against his neck, the seam practically disappearing into the rest of the jumpsuit. He pressed his fingers against the muzzle, clicking it against his mouth as it nestled snugly onto the bridge of his nose.

Before Shinsou could respond, the killer strode over and grabbed his hand, firmly pulling him from the chair as they walked to the door.

"Don't let go of my hand." The costumed man warned, turning the handle to the exit. "As long as we're like this, you'll be protected."

The former vigilante didn't quite understand, but nevertheless nodded in affirmation. He felt his heart racing as the door swung open before him, the afternoon light shimmering out, causing him to wince slightly at the sudden uptick in brightness. He wasn't given time to adjust; the other person insistently dragged him out into the open world, causing him to briefly stumble as they went out into the world outside the apartment.

As soon as his eyes adjusted, Shinsou was greeted to the sight of tightly packed homes, some so dense that they almost seemed stacked on top of each other. The road they were on was incredibly narrow, roughly three people wide- and even then, some of that space was taken up by parked bikes or store signs. Posters were plastered on practically any publicly owned surface, ranging from public notices to upcoming events.

"...Are we in Sangenjaya?" He asked, looking expectantly at Jackrabbit.

"Where are you looking to go?" The other man responded, not bothering to answer the question.

"Ah- yeah." Shinsou gritted his teeth, struggling to find any kind of pace to the conversation. "I need to find a tech store. I need a laptop; do you know if there's a place selling them nearby?"

"...There's a small shop a few blocks from here." Jackrabbit replied. "I found it while canvassing the area for weapons."

"...I see." The purple haired man weakly replied, reminded yet again of the multiple times he saw his guide drenched in blood. "I don't have any money to buy one, though. I can-"

"That won't be a concern."

The former vigilante was confused by the reassurance. He was about to suggest he would use his quirk, but it seemed that the person leading him by the hand had plans of his own.

It was then that Shinsou noticed something about the crowds surrounding the duo- or rather, the lack thereof. The people approaching them almost instinctively moved out of the way for them, not even sparing them a look or breaking their conversations as they passed them by.

"I take it this is why you wanted me to hold hands with you? Are you erasing our presence from their minds?"

"You've got it backwards." Jackrabbit replied, not bothering to look back as he guided the purple haired man through the twisted mess of narrow streets and alleyways. "It's one of the many Blessings granted to me- They know who I am. They move out of my way out of respect- and they willingly forget everything about me once they're out of my way."

Before Shinsou could question further, he was cut off as his navigator turned a corner and halted in front of a small store carved out of the underside of a small, multiplex building- the words "Hinode Denki" shining down on them with pristine white lettering.

"We're here." Jackrabbit announced, pulling him insistently to the automatic sliding door. The cashier behind the counter kept his head down, abstaining from the expected formality of cheerfully greeting those who walk into the store. The lack of reaction sent the hairs on the back of his neck standing, leaving him to ponder the description of the assassin's 'Blessing.'

The green-clad man gestured for the one behind him to take the lead, seeing as how he wasn't the one looking for something to buy. The purple haired man took the cue, walking forward to browse the small number of aisles to see if there was a computer he could use. Wedged in the back were a couple of devices- almost all of them were cheap, nearly worthless models, but one of two of them were halfway decent, though the price tag...

"Just take one." The voice from behind him commanded, causing his shoulders to jump slightly as he snatched one of the boxes from the shelves.

"Okay... I got what I needed." Shinsou trailed off, his gaze trailing over to the cashier. "Do we just-"

The words died in his throat as he watched the store clerk tap a number of buttons on the register, before producing a credit card from their wallet and swiping it along the reader. The chime of a successful payment rang through the store, sending the former vigilante's stomach crashing through the floor.

"D-Did he-"

"The people of Japan revere me and will provide for me to further the cause." He cut the purple-haired man off, taking the lead once more as he pulled his compatriot out of the store. "They are more than happy to oblige us."

"...What cause?"

"Is that all?" Jackrabbit asked, once again failing to answer the question asked of him.

"Yeah, I-" He paused, his eyes drifting off to another store in the distance. "Wait- no. We need to go there."

He raised the hand carrying the laptop, pointing the box towards a similarly looking retail location just down the street- "Drugstore Smile."

"What do you need there?"

"Just take me there." Shinsou bit back, a bit of frustration and indignance welling in his voice.

"...Very well." Jackrabbit accepted the order, leading him to the second location.

The former vigilante didn't wait to be asked to take the lead; he passed by the silent store attendants, grabbing a handful of plastic bags on the way in. He hastily shoved the laptop into one of them, allowing him to hang it from his wrist and free up his hand as he walked to the back of the store. A counter stood in the back, manned by a pharmacist who similarly refused to look at the duo.

Shinsou paused for a moment, breathing deeply and gathering his nerves as he climbed the counter, watching as the lab coat wearing woman stepped calmly out of the way as he crossed over to the other side. Jackrabbit silently followed suit, and the two of them slowly made their way through the shelves of drug boxes and bottles as the purple haired man slowly scanned each of their labels.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for- a row of green and white boxes, with a slightly bubbly black text on top. He picked them up, shaking them slightly as if to make sure that they weren't empty. He threw one of the boxes into the bag; he paused for a moment, hand raised and poised to take more of the supply. After a brief moment of consideration, he grabbed three more and hastily tossed them in with the first.

"You're grabbing quite a bit there." Jackrabbit noted, his tone... somehow more ambiguous than before. "What are you taking?"

A flash of indignation swiped across Shinsou's face. "None of your-"

He cut himself off, sighing. "It's called Landsen. Clonazepam. I doubt you know what it's for. I got enough to last myself a while. Let's go."

"...Very well."

The former vigilante felt a coil of guilt wrap around his chest as he crossed the counter and let the killer take him back to the apartment. He knew what he did wasn't right, but... somehow it felt worse than usual.

Maybe it was the amount of it he took, he reasoned with himself. This wasn't the first time that he had absconded with supplies he needed, and certainly not in this fashion. But it was effectively the same as he had to act when he was working as an active agent of justice...

...wasn't it?

It wasn't long before he was navigated back to the apartment. The moment the front door closed behind them, Shinsou let out a loud sigh of relief, letting go of Jackrabbit's hand as he sank to his knees. He didn't realize how overwhelming the stress of going back out into a potentially dangerous community was until he was isolated from it once again.

He turned to face the masked man next to him, slowly getting back to his feet.

"...Thanks." He bit out, leaning back against the arm of the couch for support.

"...I don't understand what that means." Jackrabbit bluntly replied.

"...Right. It means I am grateful for something you did for me."

"Why are you grateful?" The killer cocked his head. "You ordered me to do something for you and I carried it out."

"Well... I'm grateful regardless."

"That's stupid." He bluntly replied. "You may as well thank a fish for swimming."

"Look, I don't know what to tell you." Shinsou sighed, pinching the brow of his nose. "Just say 'You're Welcome.'"

"...very well." Jackrabbit grunted out. "...You're welcome."

"No, I-" The purple haired man groaned in frustration. "That's not what I meant. It wasn't supposed to be an order."

"...I don't understand what you're-"

Jackrabbit's response was cut off by the tinny noise of a cell phone ringtone, echoing from somewhere deeper in the house. His head snapped towards the bedroom, quickly striding over with Shinsou quietly following in morbid curiosity.

The assassin reached into his duffel bag, producing a small, black clamshell device. He flipped it open, pressing the device to his ear.

The former vigilante watched as the other occupant of the room quietly listened to the staticky voice on the other end of the line, whispering something almost unintelligible to him. It wasn't long before he lowered the device from his head, slamming it shut and throwing it back into the bag.

"...What was that?"

"...A follower was captured by the enemy." He replied. "I must go and deal with the matter."

Jackrabbit reached up to grab the tips of his rabbit ears on his hood, pulling them down and flush against his face. He pressed his hands firmly against his mask, removing them seconds later to reveal an entirely new set of features.

His rabbit ears were no longer as such, replaced with a thin pair of antennae that bent sharply and curved over his face. His eyes were now covered with a black pair of lenses, engraved with a repeating hexagonal pattern that caused a scattershot reflection of the light that bounced off of it.

The feature that completed the look was the mandibles that spilled out from the top of the muzzle. They looked almost lifelike, the small wiggling they exhibited from the movement almost perfectly mimicking the pincer motions of the praying mantis that the mask resembled.

Jackrabbit didn't wait around to let Shinsou's awe subside- he roughly pushed past the former vigilante, marching down the hallway and out the door.

The feeling of loneliness settled back into his head, and with it came the onslaught of questions that he had no answers for. None of this made sense, yet the world around him insisted otherwise; there was no rationalization for what just happened.

Shinsou felt his breathing grow erratic as the same feelings of panic set in. He was on the verge of leaving, of finally abandoning this strange circus... but now it felt as if he had just catapulted himself back to square one.

He quickly went back to the living room, scooping up the bags full of items that he had essentially forced others to pay for. He kicked the laptop box under the bed- he'd come back to that later. Right now, the only thing on his mind was the other thing he took, the Landsen. He shakily tore open one of the boxes, pulling out a sheet of individually sealed pills. He hastily peeled the layered paper and aluminum back, pouring two of the white tabs into his hands. He slammed them into his mouth, rushing over to the bathroom sink. He lowered his head into the basin, turning on the faucet to pour tap water directly into his mouth. With that, he swallowed the medication, taking a few extra gulps of water just to ensure that it would go down.

He sighed in relief, a wave of reassurance washing over him as he pulled his head back up, resting his forehead against the mirror as he closed his eyes. He slowed his breathing, clutching the edges of the sink with all his might.

He wasn't safe. Even here, if it weren't the Yakuza, it would be this shadow organization and a mysterious "Avatar" who would probably dispose of him if he became a threat. The benefits of escaping were virtually nil. If anything it was a death sentence. There was never really a choice; he would either die out in the world or become a willing captive to the people trying to kill him.

Shinsou felt his grip on the sink loosen as his heart began to artificially slow its erratic beating. The racing thoughts began to subside in kind, replaced with a sensation that could only be described as a warm fluffy blanket wrapping itself around his brain, slowly suffocating it and lulling it to a peaceful state.

He felt the edges of his lips twitch upwards as he put a little more of his weight on the mirror.

At least... at least he had this for now.

Bakugou had found himself unable to relax his hands since his conversation with the Biker. His fists ached, the knuckles turning a bare white as he held them in his lap.

It wasn't long ago that he marched back to the precinct, throwing the door to Tsukauchi's office open. He found himself unable to verbally express his decision, but his expression was clear enough that the detective knew what he was thinking.

They wordlessly exited the office, walking to the parking lot where a dimly humming armored personnel carrier waited, ready to take them to the prison. The doors swung open, and a man dressed head to toe in SWAT gear stepped out, gesturing for them to come inside.

The duo followed suit, taking a seat on the cold metal benches that lined the back of the vehicle. On the far end, welded into the center of the wall was a set of heavy duty braces meant to restrain the extremely dangerous criminals, the interior lined with a number of sharp needles meant to ply the prisoner with sedatives and quirk suppressants as they were carried to the facility that they would spend the rest of their lives in.

The vehicle lurched forward, the wheels practically crunching the asphalt beneath them as the heavy duty military equipment was slowly rolled to its destination. Neither the detective nor the pro hero looked at the other, both of them staring off into different corners of the bus as they waited for the trek to end.

Some thirty-odd minutes had passed before Tsukauchi sighed, his piercing yellow eyes turning to look at his subordinate.

"Before you speak to him, I did want to let you know that I appreciate your decision." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "It couldn't have been an easy choice to make."

Bakugou didn't respond, opting to balefully glare at the back door while he clenched the front of his jeans.

The rest of the trip was carried out in a tense silence, neither of them really pushing the other to chit-chat. The air was too heavy between them, feeling so dense that they could practically feel it resisting them as they attempted to breathe it in.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed to a stop, the engine cutting off as the sound of the driver's side door opened and slammed shut. It wasn't long before the back doors opened, a fully armed guard barking at them to step out of the vehicle and follow him further into the complex.

It took almost an hour for the two of them to get through all the security checkpoints before being able to enter the facility proper. Interviews, lie detector tests, fingerprinting, blood samples, iris scanning... it was almost comical how many different ways that they verified his identity.

They were eventually led by a group of guards down the hallway, all of them heavily armed and equipped with automatic rifles. The thuds of their boots echoed across the sterile white tiling that sprawled not just on the floor, but up the walls and ceiling as well. The only thing that broke the monotony were the regularly spaced doors, the thick metal slabs jutting out from the walls, each emblazoned with a large number above it.

They were eventually led to an elevator, its own metal casing twice as thick as the material that lined the cell blocks. The door opened, the gears screeching in pain as it opened to reveal its empty interior.

"The two of you will be down there alone. Should the prisoner attempt to attack or free itself, the machine guns trained on it will engage." He barked out, his visor masking his gaze from the two of them. "Should this happen, you will not fight the prisoner. Back up and wait for the situation to neutralize. We will not disengage the turrets if you cross the line of fire."

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch in anger at the disclaimer he was given.

"Well shit, you're really making me feel safe here." He spat out.

The lead guard shook his head. "Your safety is not our priority, it's the containment of the prisoners. Should there be a choice between letting the prisoner escape or neutralizing both of you, we have been directed to do the latter. If you cannot accept that, feel free to turn around and leave the way you came."

The blunt disregard for his well-being caught him off guard, his mouth hanging open in empty protest as his indignance flared up yet again. He did have half a mind to march himself out of the facility, but... he knew that wouldn't solve anything. The pro hero waved the guard aside, defiantly stomping to the middle of the elevator and folding his arms over his chest. Tsukauchi followed suit.

The guard said nothing further, simply pulling an ID card out of his vest, waving it next to a receiver on the other side of the door. The metal slabs that constituted its doors screeched and slammed to a close, and the two felt their stomachs slightly rise as the machine began its slow descent, travelling deep beneath the ground to the visiting room specially made for their most notorious prisoner.

They weren't given long to get their affairs order. Tsukauchi quietly pulled the brim of his hat down, the shadow only slightly masking his features as they approached their final destination. Bakugou remained motionless, his arms tensed and pressed into his sides as he did his best to keep them from shaking.

Eventually, the elevator stumbled to a halt, the walls creaking as it settled into the bottom of the shaft. The doors screeched open, leading to a single room with no other exits. The walls were lined with the same tiling as before, but the floor here was little more than a large slab of concrete. Two chairs were seated in front of a window that spanned an entire wall, behind which was a similar looking room, albeit with a reinforced metal door instead of an elevator.

The investigators took their seats, both staring forward with harsh gazes as they waited for the villain to make his entrance. Almost immediately, the door behind the glass slid open, revealing the horrid countenance of the monster they came here for.

All for One lay strapped on an iron slab, the bottom of which had been folded inward to act as a rudimentary sort of chair. On top of the straight jacket he was bound in, an assortment of carbon fiber straps lined his body, connecting to a metal harness that kept him firmly still against the cold surface. Connected to its frame were a number of medical bags and tubes, weaving in and out of each other as they snaked around his arms to be embedded under his skin. A breathing mask covered his face, connected to a pump that forcefully shoved oxygen in and out of his lungs.

The wheels on his chair creaked forward, slowly approaching the window that separated the villain from the duo looking to interrogate him. The chair stopped right between the two, causing All for One to look up towards the ceiling and call out.

"Come now, you know I came here for the boy." He turned to face one of the many cameras lining the ceiling of the visitor's room. "You could at least have the decency to put us directly in front of the other."

Almost immediately, the chair swiveled to the side, shifting to the right to place itself firmly in front of Bakugou.

Despite his diminished status as a prisoner, the pro hero couldn't deny the overwhelming presence emanating from the former mastermind. He towered over even Tsukauchi, and his bulky mass had not been reduced in the slightest despite the conditions he was living in. Even now, he wondered if the restraints he was placed in were actually enough to keep him there.

"It certainly has been a while, Bakugou Katsuki." All for One smiled, timing his words with the oxygen pump. "I must admit, I wasn't sure if you would accept my offer. But I can see that fire still burns brightly inside of you. Tell me, was becoming a hero all you wanted and more?"

"I didn't come here to play games with you." The pro hero growled, feeling the bones in his hands creak as they tightened even further. "Just tell us what you know."

His rebuttal was met with a hearty laugh, cut short by the air pump forcing him to choke as it forced him to breathe in. He jolted in his chair, causing the machine guns on his side of the room to snap to attention as he tried to stifle a coughing fit. He eventually recovered, looking back at the blonde man as he waited for the machine to give him another opportunity to speak.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way." He smiled, recovering his threatening charisma. "I am dreadfully bored, and I would love to know what happened to the one who escaped my son's clutches."

"...Being a hero is fine." The pro hero bit his tongue, leaning back in his chair. "Much better than being reduced to a lap dog like your little bitch of a kid."

The villain's smile widened further, baring his teeth to the hero as he breathed in. No doubt he was envisioning a multitude of ways his prodigy would put him in his place.

"You may say what you like, but that is precisely why I wish to provide my insight." He tilted his head, watching as the turrets slightly adjusted their aim to the movement. "I would like to stop that creature before he prevents my son from casting off his shackles. Which office did you go to?"

"Yanaka Municipal."

"Really, now? With your skills?" All for One gleefully asked, making it apparent that he greatly enjoyed the answers to the questions he was asking. "I'm surprised that you chose to work in such a desolate place for heroes. There's no chance you'd ever be able to make a name for yourself there. Are you still working there?"

"...You know the answer to that already." Bakugou muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the deformed man to hear him.

"But it sounds so much better when it comes from you." The former mastermind insisted. "I've not listened to something so melodic in such a long time."

The pro hero looked down, grinding his teeth as he forced out the answer. "...I'm on leave. I'm working with the police for now."

"Imagine if the public caught wind of that." He replied, his wistful tone carrying his insidious cruelty. "Back on the job just months after the scandal that rocked the nation... tell me, who do you think would have their picture on the news more: You, or Chiaki-"

His line of questioning was cut off as the hero jumped out of his chair, reeling his fist back as he punched the thick glass separating him from the disgusting waste of life in front of him.

"Don't you dare say her name ever again!" He screamed.

The conversation was cut short as klaxons blared throughout the visitor's room. A reinforced metal slate descended from the window, cutting the two groups off from each other as a set of turrets shot out from the walls, the barrels of their guns focused squarely on the suspended hero. Tsukauchi quickly scrambled to his feet, his own chair tumbling behind him as he stepped back and assumed a defensive stance.

"DO NOT ATTACK THE GLASS." A gruff voice bellowed through an unseen intercom system. "ANY FURTHER INTERACTION WILL BE TAKEN AS AN ATTEMPT TO FREE THE PRISONER. WE WILL OPEN FIRE. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING."

The pro hero remained unmoving, fist placed firmly against the glass panel. Tsukauchi quickly stepped forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him back and away from the closed viewport. The jostling snapped him back to reality, just in time for the detective to give him an earful.

"You idiot!" He shouted over the alarm. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"He just-"

"I know, Bakugou! Now sit down!"

The pro hero clutched his hair, stomping in place angrily as he did his best to keep himself from screaming in anger. He turned around, swinging his leg out to kick the chair, sending it flying across the room to crash against the elevator. It smacked the floor with a metallic clang, the frame clearly dented from the impact.

"Bakugou-"

"Shut up!" He screamed, voice cracking as he clutched his head. "Just shut the fuck up! I can't-"

"Just fucking sit down!" Tsukauchi screamed, the vulgar reaction causing Bakugou to freeze in place. He paused for a moment, before sauntering over to the chair, dragging it back to its original place before collapsing on top of it.

The moment he took his seat, the alarms cut off, and the turrets receded from view.

The detective walked back to his own chair, placing it upright as he took his place. He looked up to the ceiling.

"We're ready to continue." He announced, waiting for the person monitoring them to respond.

The reinforced metal slid back up, once again revealing the visage of All for One. He was trembling in his seat, caught in a laughing fit that was being disrupted by the oxygen pump. Every inhalation was strained and filled with the sounds of heaves and choking, followed by the noise of an uncontrollable giggle as the flow was reversed. Whether he was shaking in joy or extreme pain was beyond the investigative duo's understanding.

Eventually, he calmed himself down, his voice hoarse from the sustained damage it took over the past few minutes. The villain sighed, a raucous pleasure emanating from his words.

"Oh, I do apologize for that outburst, I just couldn't help myself." He sneered, his grin so wide it almost spanned the width of his breathing mask. "Indulging in schadenfreude has always been a weakness of mine."

"...Are you done?" Bakugou monotonously asked, his eyes focused on his hands on his lap.

All for One cleared his throat, sighing as he replied. "Yes, yes, I think that's enough for me. I do appreciate you being such a sport about it. It's always good to be reminded that others are worse off than you are, it tends to put things in perspective. Well, that aside... you wish to know about the killer who is singlehandedly massacring the Yakuza."

"Tell us what you know." Tsukauchi cut in, drawing the former mastermind's attention away from the emotionally depleted hero. "Don't hold anything from us."

"You did what I asked, so I will be an open book for you." He paused, his chair turning to face the detective. "I do not know the name they use to describe themselves. I first encountered them about 80 years ago... at the time I simply called them the Vanguard."

"What are they after?"

"What exactly they want is a mystery to me. From what I gathered while dealing with them, it appears that their operations revolve around a group they revere- 'The First Family.' They believed that someone from this group would save Japan from peril." He stopped, waiting for the breathing machine to allow him to speak again. "However, I was informed that their goals may be far more insidious than that."

Bakugou's ears perked at that line, his eyes slowly rising forward as he listened intently.

"What led you to believe that?" Tsukauchi pressed further.

"I became acquaintances of one who was kidnapped by the Vanguard. A peculiar fellow- she introduced herself as a 'Failure,' and had helped me multiple times to evade their sieges on me. She displayed strange abilities that seem even impossible to be a quirk." He tilted his head, the scabs where his eyes should have been focusing on the detective. "Tell me, have you ever met someone who could sense the future?"

"Sir Nighteye, of course. You should know him well."

"No, I don't mean like that. He could read the mind of someone and extrapolate what their future was. It was incredibly limited and not at all accurate." He shook his head. "I'm referring to someone who was in touch with the future. Almost as if they didn't quite exist in the present."

"What?" Tsukauchi scrunched his eyebrows, giving the villain a look of incredulity. "That doesn't make sense."

"Did..." Bakugou spoke up, not quite looking at the imprisoned man. "...did he have an emblem on him? Five leaves... three flowers, all of it a dark blue?"

"...You-" All for One began, cut off by his breathing machine choking him. He regained his composure quickly. "Apologies, I was so shocked I forgot to time my words. Did I hear what you said correctly?"

"Bakugou, who are you referring to?" Tsukauchi turned, a look of surprise overtaking his features.

"He's the one I met when I first saw Jackrabbit." Bakugou reminded his superior, his eyes glazed over and staring at nothing in particular. "We spoke for a bit and then he left."

"Impressive. Though it appears we spoke to different people. So there is more than one of these 'Failures...'" He trailed off. He turned to face the pro hero once more, a smile overtaking his features. "If I can offer you a word of advice, I would heed whatever they tell you. They will be one of your best allies."

"They call themselves 'Failures;' why, exactly?" Tsukauchi leaned in, pulling out his notepad to scribble something down.

"That was something I could never get explained. Either they were unwilling or unable to tell me, and I had no interest in coercing someone who was so invaluable to me into giving me information that might not be of help. But it does make me wonder... perhaps your Jackrabbit is considered a success?"

"Why didn't you take them out?" Bakugou cut him off, his eyes clear and trained on the deformed man in front of him. "They were constantly going after you, right? What stopped you from returning the favor?"

"They were beyond my abilities." He bluntly replied, the simplicity of the answer catching both of the investigators off guard.

"I've never heard you take that tone before." Tsukauchi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What did you mean by that?"

All for One sat there, smiling as he stared at the detective. "What's the matter, does it scare you to hear that there are those even more insidious than me?"

"Answer the question." He commanded, fingers tightly grasping his notepad.

"Actually, I don't think I will." He sneered, a small laugh bubbling out of his throat. "I've given you all I know, and you apparently have a resource even more knowledgeable than I on hand. I think it's time you two took your leave."

Tsukauchi sighed, dusting his trench coat off as he stood up. "Fine by me. Let's go, Bakugou."

The pro hero wordlessly stood up, the dented chair wobbling as he took his weight off it. The investigators turned to face the elevators, the door opening for them as they stepped out of the visitor's room.

The subsequent exit and trip home passed in relative silence. Neither Tsukauchi or Bakugou dared to speak a word to each other, the information and antics of the fallen villain driving them into a tense silence.

Eventually, they were dropped off at the precinct, the armored van depositing them off in the parking lot before it returned to the prison it was meant for.

The detective turned to face the pro hero, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find something to say.

"You know..." He trailed off. "If you'd like to take tomorrow off-"

"Don't." Bakugou cut him off, turning to face him. His eyes were brimming with rage, the red irises burning bright as spite spilled from his lips. "Don't you start with me. I'll be here."

"Are you sure? It's All Might Day tomorrow-"

"Did I fucking stutter?!" He yelled, clenching his fists tightly. "I meant what I said!"

Tsukauchi sighed, a look of concern briefly crossing his features before falling back into his default stern gaze. "Alright. I expect you to be here at 8AM, then. You're dismissed for the rest of the day."

The detective watched as the indignant blonde turned and strode out of the premises. He wasn't sure if his subordinate was just putting on a mask or somehow managed to gain some semblance of determination out of that interrogation... the truth was, either one was cause for concern.

Tsukauchi shook his head, sighing in exasperation as he looked up to the sky, the sunset tinting it a warm and cozy reddish-orange.

"Toshinori, you bastard." He whispered to himself, chuckling. "I knew he was going to be a handful, but you could have at least warned me when you asked me to look after him."

Ginza doesn't sleep. The bright LED signs that pierced through the daylight refused to calm as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; if anything it intensified their glow and cascaded the streets with an assortment of bright neon colors. It bathed its visitors in splashes of purple, yellow, and blue, enticing them to come try out its venues that only opened for those willing to go out this late.

The streets weren't laden with the number of hosts practically forcing passersby into their establishments, at least not as many as those in Shinjuku or Kabukicho. Instead, many of the nightclubs here were almost at capacity, with many of their entrances sprouting a long tail of young adults looking for a fun new juncture.

This was no different for Genius, a well-known dance club nestled between a men's business wear outlet and a mid-tier sushi restaurant. It looked completely inconspicuous from the outside, its high scale doors and innocuous name only betrayed by the flashing lights and soft thuds of the music emanating from the floors above. A cordoned off line spanned down the block, bustling with people looking to just forget everything and have fun for once.

Jackrabbit strode down the street, his eyes trailing across the extensive group of people in front of him. He was carrying a thick plastic bag from a hardware store- his grip tightened as he stopped in the middle of the street, soaking in what details he could find from the building's exterior.

Once he was done with his initial recon, he backed up for just a brief moment, out of the buzzing lights of the district and into the shadows of a narrow alleyway lined with dumpsters and garbage cans.

He crouched against the marble wall, reaching into the bag to produce a number of items: a large plastic bottle of kerosene, two metal thermoses with strap clips, and a box- it featured a power drill set, complete with masonry drill bits and a pre-charged battery pack. He ripped open the container, carefully extracting the tools as he got to work assembling it. He picked the largest spade bit out of the container, sliding into the chamber of the drill. He spun the chuck, watching it slam to a halt as it gripped the bit tightly. He clicked the battery pack into place, pressing the trigger and watching it rev up and spin with a high pitched whine.

He opened both the bottle of kerosene and thermoses, pouring the flammable liquid into the containers, sealing them shut and clipping them to his belt. Once he was done, he scooped up all the packaging and spare parts, placing it back into the plastic bag before dumping the entire waste into one of the nearby dumpsters.

Drill in hand, Jackrabbit strode back out onto the sidewalk, the large electric billboards swathing him in pastels as he sauntered back towards the club. He didn't bother getting in line; he simply walked past the whole ordeal, his presence going completely unknown. He eventually made it to the front- the bouncer focused on the crowd in front of him as he did his best to determine who was old enough to enter. The assassin slipped in between the burly man and the set of stanchions he was guarding, ducking under the velvet red bannister that was meant to be lifted upon entry.

The inside was little more than a well-lit marble staircase and an elevator leading up. The armed man quietly slinked up the steps, the ceiling eventually giving way and opening up into a much larger room than one could expect.

The entire main floor was cast in a deep blue light, so intense that it blocked out almost all other shades of color. The only thing that wasn't changed from Jackrabbit's appearance was his eyes, the black lenses of his mask absorbing almost all the light that dared approach.

The room itself was predictably crowded, people standing shoulder to shoulder as the DJ pumped a heavy synth beat that practically rocked the floor with its intensity. A dense artificial fog permeated the air, accenting the bright lasers that bounced and swung wildly around the room. Dotted sporadically on the arched ceiling were large disco balls, which cascaded a variety of pulsing lights around the pit and the balconies surrounding it.

Jackrabbit scanned the room from his entry point, taking note of anyone that stood out in the venue. It wasn't really hard to see who was one of the "staff." Most of them were standing in front of or next to the entrances to the backrooms, wearing sunglasses that obscured their features. They all appeared to be wearing the same type of outfit- a white three piece suit, striking purple accents clearly marking who worked for the Yakuza and who didn't.

Not all of them were nervously standing guard, however. The assassin did notice that a few dotted the crowd, either flirting with the patrons or having fun in their own wild way. His eyes shifted over to one man in particular, dancing in a way that could almost be described as flailing, his inebriation clearly removing a large portion of his inhibitions.

He breathed in, eyes focusing as he felt his grip tighten on his improvised weapon. He purposefully strode forward, watching as the crowd smoothly parted around him, dancing and oblivious to the hungry killer among them. He walked in a straight line towards his prey, faced away from him and dancing as extravagantly as ever.

He didn't wait to get the man's attention. He lifted his leg up, stomping forward and landing a hit directly on the back of his calf. The sudden force sent the drunken man crashing forward, his nose smacking the hard floor with a sickening crack.

Jackrabbit was not done, though. He pounced on top of the Yakuza thug's body, holding him down by the neck as he pinned the man's arms with his legs. He placed the drill right on the back of his skull, pulling the trigger and watching the machine do its job.

The spinning spade bit easily broke through the man's skull, his throat only able to eke out a weak yelp as the metal rod broke through, the wide metal head sinking in almost instantly. It was only a matter of seconds before his grey matter was quite literally blended into mush, killing him instantly.

The killer stood up, removing himself from the dead body as he sauntered through, the crowd no longer dividing itself for him. The jumping and hooting dancers crashed into him like a tsunami, but it did little to knock him off guard.

It wasn't long before his handiwork was noticed- a chorus of screams pierced the air, causing most of the audience to stop what they were doing as they tried to find the source of the noise.

All it took was someone to shout, "He's fucking dead!" to send the crowd into a flurry. The sound of terror intensified as the mass of people scattered, all of them rushing to the only exit to the nightclub. It wasn't long before that single staircase became completely clogged, the scores of people jamming themselves into place.

Jackrabbit crouched, his eyes trained on the pair of guards in front of him, obscured by the people moving to the other end of the room, towards the staircase that would lead to safety. He swung one leg behind him, ready to break into a sprint the moment was right. Eventually, the crowd cleared up, and the mantis-faced assassin launched himself forward, grabbing the attention of the pair of Yakuza who had yet to gain their bearings. He pressed down on the trigger once again, the construction device springing back to life.

One of the guards held his hand out to shield the attack, doing little but provide an extra half inch of organic material for the drill to power through. He screamed in agony as Jackrabbit aimed straight at his palm, tearing a large hole though his flesh. The killer twisted the drill upwards, using the momentum to press further. The metallic rod travelled through the underside of the Yakuza's jaw, effortlessly travelling up through his mouth and into the floor of his cranial cavity. He convulsed, blood bubbling out his mouth and spattering his immediate surroundings with shards of bone and blood. The assassin reached to the man's waistline, hands slipping around the grip of his concealed pistol. He yanked it out, unloading five shots directly into the other guard's chest. Both of the burly men fell to the ground like sacks of meat. The screams of those who had still yet to leave only intensified, traumatizing those who were unfortunate enough to be forced to stay.

The other thugs on the floor didn't wait for Jackrabbit to reach them- the moment their target was identified, they whipped out their own firearms, unloading the contents of their magazines at the costumed vigilante. The killer ducked, attempting to yank his tool out from his impaled victim with little success. He kicked open the door in front of him, roughly dragging the body with him as he dodged their gunfire.

A set of horrified screeches behind him caused him to turn around- he had found himself in the kitchen of the nightclub, the trio of cooking staff horrified at the sight before them. One of them threw the doors to the walk-in freezer open, practically throwing the other two inside and slamming the door behind him.

The distraction taken care of, Jackrabbit refocused his attention on the drill. He flipped a switch on its side to reverse the direction of the drill. He revved up the machine, watching as the corpse attached to it convulsed with the action. He slammed his foot on the dead man's forehead, using it as leverage to yank the drill bit out of his head.

He wasn't given much time before the kitchen door was thrust open, three Yakuza rushing into the room in order to launch their own offensive. Jackrabbit dove backwards, sliding back behind the counters full of cooking equipment. From his prone position on the floor, he unloaded the rest of the magazine into one of the men, bodying him almost immediately. He pushed himself back behind cover as the other two shot at him, the bullets cracking and sinking into the slip-resistant tiling. Amidst their gunfire, he threw his pistol around the corner, the object distracting them and causing them to flinch. He took the opportunity to jump to his feet, grabbing a knife from a nearby rack and throwing it cleanly into the second man's chest. The impact sent him stumbling back, leading him to collapse against the final guard, who roughly shoved him out of the way, onto the ground.

Not wanting the distraction to go to waste, Jackrabbit quickly scanned for anything that could be used as a means to attack. His eyes settled on a large pot of frying oil, meant to fry the stack of breaded pork cutlets sitting next to it. A gas fire raged underneath it, giving the killer an idea of just how scalding it truly was. With little time to think, he rushed over, smoothly scooping the metal container into his hands. Just as he approached the Yakuza, he swung his arms back to his side, stomping to a halt and using the momentum to carry the pot forward. He let go, watching as it sailed in a small arc across the room, slamming into the guard and spilling its contents all over him.

The wretches of agony that erupted from this man were forever engrained on the memories of those who were around to hear it. He slipped to the ground, flailing in the pool of searing liquid, steam escaping from his body as it seeped into his clothes and cooked him alive. His skin blistered, puffing up in white patches everywhere the oil touched. He fruitlessly tried to fling it off his body, but the oil clung to him, his skin audibly sizzling as he howled in abject torment.

The mantis-faced assassin stood quietly as he watched the thug wail and beg for mercy. The oil had spilled onto his partner as well, but in the throes of death he had barely felt the heat. He sauntered back to where he dropped the drill, picking it up and returning to the only living victim he had left. He slammed his hand on the man's jaw, his screaming intensifying before being cut off entirely by the sound of the metal instrument grinding his brain to a paste.

The rest of the building's security forces stood little resistance to the monster determined to destroy them. It didn't help that this wasn't a well defensible holdout, either. The few people stationed here were just here to protect the money coming into the club, so it made sense that these weren't going to be the top of the line underlings.

One of them had even thrown his gun away, collapsing into a hastily composed Dogeza as he begged for mercy. The only thing it granted him was a large hole in the back of his skull.

Jackrabbit proceeded through the second and third floors of the club, passing through the balconies and private rooms. Passing through a swinging door to the back, he was greeted with a final rickety narrow staircase that led to a single swinging door.

'Manager's Office,' it read.

The moment he reached the top step, a slew of bullets shot out from the other side of the door, peppering his body with projectiles. A series of loud pops exploded from the other side of the door, holes appearing through the thin paneling as bullets from an unseen assailant fired upon him. The assassin dropped to the ground, waiting for the rounds to stop firing. The moment he heard the signature clack of a magazine being ejected, he punched open the door, scrambling to his feet and rushing inside to the room.

The office itself was rather barren, consisting of little more than a desk and a window to oversee the main floor. A few extra chairs lined the walls, one of which was occupied; a blue and white hooded figure was tied to the one closest to the desk, their head hung low but their chest still moving.

The Yakuza who fired on him was clearly not expecting him to survive- he was completely off guard, his stance weak enough to allow Jackrabbit to plow through him and shove him against the heavy oak desk behind him. The mantis-masked man shoved him over the surface of the furniture, bending the thug's back at an awkward angle as he brought his fist down onto his nose with a heavy thud. A sharp crack echoed through the room as the bone and cartilage crumbled beneath the force, but the attacker was far from done.

In one swoop, he grabbed the man by his wrists, pinning his arms above his head. With his free hand, he reached over to a cup full of pens and grabbed a handful of them. He slammed them into the man's neck, tips pointed downward, the sheer amount of force causing them to easily break the man's skin and muscular material. He let go, bringing his fist up and slamming it back down onto the writing utensils embedded into the man's body, forcing them even deeper into his throat. He repeated the action, watching as the light from the guard's eyes faded increasingly with each impact.

Eventually, he let go of the Yakuza, watching as his body slumped to the ground, the strained pose causing him to flop onto his stomach unceremoniously.

Jackrabbit turned his attention to the only other living being in the room, calmly and slowly stepping over to the person he was sent here to find. He grabbed the figure's hood, roughly pulling it back to expose his face.

The man looked absolutely dejected, scraggly blonde hair covering his eyes. Streams of tears and snot dripped off of his face, the weight of his failed mission taking a toll on him.

He slowly raised his head, looking at the monstrous being staring at him from above.

"I... they..." He trailed off, a genuine expression of surprise invading his voice. "You... you came for me?!"

Jackrabbit stood there, unmoving as he grabbed the chair and dragged it away from the wall.

"I can't believe it... after I failed..." He shook his head, hair parting to reveal a set of heavily sunken, trembling eyes that carried an immeasurable amount of guilt. "They said they were going to bring someone to make me confess everything... They w-were going to make me expose e-e-everything."

"I failed you!" He yelled, scrunching his eyes shut as he hung his head. "I don't deserve to serve you, let alone be in your presence!"

The assassin stood back, wordlessly observing the hysterical ravings of his follower.

"I cannot be forgiven for this- please!" He insisted, straining against his bindings as he hyperventilated. "Do whatever you will, please pass judgement on me!"

Jackrabbit unclipped the thermoses from his belt, unscrewing the caps as he placed one on the ground. With the other, he brought it up to the man's lips, wordlessly telling him to drink the liquid being offered to him.

The man obediently opened his mouth, eyes widening in shock as he willingly drank the thick and oily substance from the container. He was only allowed a few gulps before the mantis-faced killer pulled the thermos back, raising it over the follower's head to pour liberally over his body.

"Thank you." The man repeatedly muttered, rocking back and forth in his seat. "Thank you. Thank you. Thankyou thankyou thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-"

The tone of his mantra morphed into an almost euphoric tone as the second bottle of the liquid was dumped all over the rest of his body. He leaned back up, tears mixing with the orange-brownish liquid as he babbled words of boundless praise to the Avatar he revered.

Jackrabbit didn't bother disposing of the thermoses, simply tossing them to the side. The killer reached behind the bound captive, tugging at the ends of the rope until the bindings loosened and fell apart.

Almost immediately, the raving follower threw himself out of the chair, sinking to his knees as he held his hands up in an almost religious form of praise.

"You are so perfect. I accept your judgement, Avatar. I deserve this. Thank you for being so kind to judge me. You are amazing. You're perfect. I love you-"

He cut himself off as the mantis-faced man grabbed his hands, forming them into a bowl shape as if to accept an offering. The assassin reached into his back pocket, producing a small metallic object. He placed it into his follower's hands, pressing them together to close around the gift.

The man watched as his idol turned and left. He opened his palms once more revealing the item given to him: it was a zippo lighter.

Peals of laughter bubbled in his chest as the kerosene dripped from his brow. He held it tight to his chest, body keeling over as his hysterics reached new heights.

It wasn't long before Overhaul and Shin Nemoto made it to Genius. After word had reached them that someone was snooping around the club, the truth-coercive lieutenant had been dispatched to extract what information they could from him. Despite his protests, Overhaul demanded he go as well, his paranoia driving him to see things for himself.

When they arrived, and absolute nightmare awaited them- the aftermath of an all-out assault on one of their public-facing operations, the death of their guards...

...and the still-burning corpse of their source of hope waiting for them in the manager's office.

A/N: ...yep, the chapters are getting longer again. I'm doing my best, okay?

Anyways, it was great writing this chapter, and I hope I'm keeping you intrigued enough to be invested in the many more twists and turns ahead of us. I'll see you all soon!

Thanks as always, and don't forget to leave a comment letting me know what you thought! It's legitimately my biggest motivator in all of this.