Chapter 11

December 1, 2167

0035 Hours

Kenta thought of himself as a fairly straightforward henchman. He stood where he was told to stand, he fought when he was told to fight, and every once in a while, he'd spout a witty remark about how the heroes wouldn't get past him. He followed orders and got paid accordingly. They'd even given him a nice-looking parka that matched with the gang's color scheme: it was black with green accents, and it felt so nice during the winter months. All in all, he was content with how things were. His partner on the other hand…

"Man, this is such bullshit. We should be out there, kicking ass and taking names! From what I hear, the Yakuza are a stiff breeze away from being blown outta the competition. Hell, if we could just muster up a few more boys, we could probably storm their headquarters tonight," Isamu ranted. His sister always had been the most energetic of the two. Guard duty had never suited her. It was the fast-paced, high-adrenaline situations like car chases, street fights, and turf wars that were her calling.

Kenta wasn't sure whether her Quirk itself had turned her into a thrill seeker, or if she'd developed that behavior because she had the Quirk to rely on. Either way, the enhanced strength allowed her to dominate in close quarters by simply throwing people around until they'd given up or died. Of course, being in the thick of it meant that she also took a beating more often than not. Which was how they'd ended up on the guard detail for the gang's primary warehouse. Or, as Isamu liked to call it, "babysitting duty".

"Uh huh," he acknowledges.

"Like, seriously, we could probably clear out the whole ward if we just got off our asses and went on the offensive for a change. You know what I mean?"

"Mmhm."

Isamu goes quiet for a moment, turning to face her brother with a scowl on her face. "Are you ignoring me?"

A minuscule grin creeps upon his lips as he simply responds with an, "Hmmm."

"Thanks, asshole. Good to know you're always willing to lend an ear to your beloved big sister. Hey, actually, now that we're talking about it, I had this really neat idea. Basically, what we do is-"

A muffled yelp sounds off to his right, where Isamu is. Kenta's hand reaches for the pistol at his waist as he whirls around to see whatever it is that's cut his sister off. When his eyes make contact, however, he finds himself freezing in abject terror.

A suit of armor, well over two meters tall, is right there. Right in front of him, not even a meter away. Kenta hadn't even heard it move. There wasn't a shuffle of boots across the ground or a pounding of feet as it got closer. The young goon honestly considers if maybe it had some sort of warp Quirk. There was no other explanation for how something so huge could've gotten the jump on them.

That's when Kenta realizes that it's got Isamu in its grasp. A single, massive gloved hand covers her entire face, preventing her from calling out for help. The other hand holds a syringe that's been stabbed into her neck. His older sister - who can lift cars and smash through brick walls - is helpless against this monster. It doesn't budge nor so much as flinch as she thrashes about, trying to free herself.

Kenta snaps out of his petrified state and continues to move for his sidearm. Only, his arm doesn't budge. In fact, there's a painful - no, excruciating sensation coming from his wrist. He can actually feel his bones creaking as the pressure only increases. It's like they've been caught in an industrial press or are being crushed by a collapsing building. He has just enough time to peek out the corner of his eye to see a second armor-clad giant right up against him. One of its hands is firmly clasped around his wrist, likely the cause for the overwhelming agony. But the other hand has taken the form of a fist and is sailing straight towards his face.

Kenta has but an instant to experience the sensation of his jaw being pulverized, with blood and saliva spewing forth from his lips. The pain ends as quickly as it had begun, and darkness consumes his vision immediately afterwards.

XXXXX

Their first mission. After all the training, all the pain, all the loss; they finally get to carry out their first real mission as Spartans. There's only one word Izuku can use to describe this moment: delightful.

Subduing the two guards had taken little effort. Their skills alone would've been enough, but combined with the active camouflage system that the SPI armor provided and they'd all but vanished from the world. Izuku was honestly fascinated by his gear: more than 225 kilos of titanium, nanocrystals, and complex circuitry, yet his movements weren't hindered in the slightest. Not to mention all the guns, spare magazines, grenades, and other equipment he was carrying around. He could run, jump, and fight just as easily as if he was in a shirt and pair of shorts.

Izuku removed the handgun from the unconscious goon's holster, ejected the magazine, and then snapped the pistol in half. He reached for one of his many pouches and pulled out a pair of Quirk suppressant handcuffs which he fastened to the wrist of the gang member. Across from him, Hitoshi was doing the same with the other guard while Mei and Will kept watch for them. Despite their active camouflage, the VISR mode on his HUD outlined their appearance in a red hue and kept him aware of their status. He was ultimately grateful for it.

As a fully-fledged Spartan, Izuku couldn't allow his personal feelings for his teammates hamper his abilities in the field. In his most private thoughts, he wanted nothing more than to keep them close. To have them within arm's reach at all times. Though he knew that wouldn't be practical. Izuku figured that his concern was simply a result of the intense fear he felt after his recovery.

He was the first one of their team to wake up from the augmentations; three whole days before the next member - Will - had regained consciousness, and another five days after that until the others came to. He spent every minute that he was allowed by their sides, wondering if they'd make it. During all that time, misery fiendishly gnawed at him from the inside out. The doctors had made exactly one attempt to try and convince him to leave for a little while. They said that it would be best if he took some time for himself so that he could relax.

Izuku couldn't quite remember how it all played out, but he knows for certain that he didn't make any threats. Actually, he doesn't remember if he'd said anything at all. Either way, the doctors refrained from asking him again, and he recognized a little bit of fear in their eyes whenever he talked with them after that. He made a mental note to apologize when he saw them again. But that would have to wait. Right now, they have a mission to complete.

Izuku keyed the built-in comms system and spoke in a steady manner. "Mythic One to Control, exterior guards have been neutralized. We're entering the compound now, over."

"Acknowledged, Mythic One. Good hunting."

Izuku raised his right hand to the side of his head. With two fingers out, he made a sideways cutting motion towards the entrance of the warehouse.

Move in.

A different Fireteam - Legacy - formed up around the door and silently made their way inside. Mythic team followed right behind them, while the last one - Foxglove - brought up the rear. Again, Izuku couldn't help but be impressed with their new armor. Despite their immense weight, they didn't make so much as a scuffle as they progressed through the dingy corridors of the building. They might not be in the middle of the city, but starting a loud and undoubtedly explosive fight was sure to attract attention.

Three teams in total entered the warehouse: Fireteams Mythic, Legacy, and Foxglove made up the "Assault Group", while all of the other remaining teams were put under the "Support Group". The three teams were the only ones to have all of their members survive the augmentations without being crippled. Because of that, they were considered to be the most combat effective, and thus the best choice for their first had no intention of proving them wrong.

One of the Spartans in the lead team - Keiichi - threw his hand and made the signal for them to stop. A flash of red light in the corner of Izuku's HUD caught his eye. The built-in motion sensor had picked something up. A single hostile was making their way toward the Spartans positions, less than twenty meters away. They walked into view slowly, cradling a case of alcohol in one arm and a large bag of food in the other.

He came to a stop in front of a door, kicked it, and yelled, "Eh, open up! My hands are full!"

Once again, Izuku was impressed with his armor. The guy was completely unaware that there were a dozen heavily armed and armored heroes standing not even ten meters away. Between the active camouflage system and sound absorbent materials, he'd sooner spot a ghost than he would them. It was just like Mei said, it's a piece of art.

However, for all of the advantages it provided the wearer, they'd made an error. Not the designers of the suit, but the Spartans themselves. A small oversight that Izuku realized too late. It was the way the man scrunched his face, like something most foul had offended his senses. No, it was more accurate to describe it as an expression of confusion. As if he'd encountered something that shouldn't have been there.

A long, slender, serpentine tongue shot forth from their lips, sampling the air itself. His eyes - reptilian eyes - snapped from the door straight towards Izuku.

What the hell?

That's when Izuku noticed it. The tiniest flecks of fluid adorned his armored gloves. It was the blood and spittle that had come from the guard he'd punched outside.

Shit.

"HEY!" The criminal shouted. Or, at least, that's what he probably meant to shout. Instead, it came out as a screech as a short burst of bullets tore through his chest and sent him flying backwards. Smoke billowed from the barrel of Keiichi's SMG. Apparently, he'd realized what was happening and chose to act on it. It didn't help much.

The bottles and containers of food crashed to the ground, adding to the noise of Keichii's M7S. The submachine guns they had were specially outfitted with silencers, but that didn't mean they completely negated the noise. In the tight space of the hallway, the sound reverberated.

There was a moment of silence.

"WE'VE GOT COMPANY!" Someone shouted from inside the room.

The Spartans were already moving before they'd finished the sentence. Their legs were a blur as they ran into positions, muscle memory taking over. Fireteam Legacy ran past the door and settled in place so that they could provide security up one side of the hall, while Fireteam Foxglove continued to watch the rear. That left Fireteam Mythic - his team - to make the breach.

The four of them waited a meter and a half away from the door, ready to strike. Izuku clenched his teeth in anticipation. Breaching a room was hazardous at best, and suicidal at worst. The odds were almost always in the defender's favor. At least, that's how it was a hundred years ago. Things had changed since then.

Izuku took a single step away from the wall, giving himself space to build up the necessary momentum. Then - in one smooth motion - he smashed right through it. Concrete and rebar erupted outward, showering the thugs inside with chunks of debris. This forced them to instinctively shield themselves from the newly made entrance. They weren't given any time to recover as the rest of Fireteam Mythic followed their teammate through the hole. Izuku found himself experiencing the same phenomenon they'd all apparently acquired.

Spartan Time.

Information flooded Izuku's senses as the adrenaline in his body spiked. The world itself seemed to slow down as he took in his environment. He could make out the face of every criminal there in perfect detail. Some of them were contorted into expressions of rage, while others simply had looks of confusion, still unaware of what was happening. There were seven in all, spread throughout the room and facing the door where they thought the Spartans would come enter. Izuku picked out the closest one and got to work.

A large man with a mutant Quirk stood just to his left. His massive, scaly arms covered his eyes, obstructing his vision. Izuku made quick work of him by throwing a hook punch to their midsection. Bones shattered and flesh rippled as the force of the blow was enough to send him flying across the room. He hadn't even hit the wall before Izuku set upon his next target.

The woman in front of him had more time to react than her cohort, though not by much. She was able to raise her hand towards Izuku in an attempt to use her Quirk, but that was as far as she got. An armored gauntlet embedded itself into her gut. Her violet eyes bulged for a split second, then blood spewed from her mouth. She was unconscious by the time she hit the ground.

Izuku looked back to see the rest of the criminals in similar states. Mei and Will had already started the process of handcuffing them and securing their weapons, while Hitoshi took watch. Despite their unsightly injuries, he could tell that all of the gang members were still alive. The Spartans had been advised to keep the level of force to a minimum. It was best not to reveal how powerful they truly were: this way, they'd be able to surprise the real enemy.

There was the other option of leaving no survivors. However, a warehouse full of mangled corpses would've surely turned more heads than the alternative. This way, the public could write it off as the emergence of a new group of underground heroes. Which - technically - was exactly what the Spartans are.

For the most part, things were going along rather easily. Izuku would've preferred to cut his teeth on a harder operation, but he could understand the Commission's caution. Despite six years of training, things could easily go awry and it would be devastating to lose even one of them. Both for the Commission and the remaining Spartans. The pain of losing so many comrades was still raw. The memory of waking up after the procedure was fresh in Izuku's mind after all these months.

One moment, he's talking with this team, telling themselves that everything would be fine and that their future as heroes was just around the corner. Next, he's being told that thirty-five of the most extraordinary people he's ever known are just… gone. The surgeries that the doctors performed had been too invasive for some of their bodies to handle. There were another dozen or so that had survived, but were so disfigured that they had to be kept in medically induced comas because the pain was excruciating.

The pay off, though, was… well, he still wasn't sure if it was worth it. If he was being honest with himself, he'd trade all of his newfound abilities if it meant that just one more Spartan had survived. But there was no changing the past, and he'd be damned if he squandered this power. His friends, his comrades, his family, had died. He wasn't going to let their deaths be in vain. The survivors had all promised to become the best, and save everyone they could.

And with how much their bodies had been altered; it was a promise they could certainly keep. Super strength, speed, and reflexes were his. Not to mention his new physique. Not even five months ago, he was only 162 centimeters tall. Now, he towered over most others at an astonishing 205 centimeters. Most shocking was when he found out that was below average for the survivors. They would be an intimidating, unstoppable force of nature.

Izuku shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think about that. Their cover was blown, and already his motion sensors were lighting up as more goons came to find out what had happened. Time to greet them.

XXXXX

The subterranean hallway had to be at least twenty meters long. It was all smooth walls, without a single obstacle to be used as cover. At the end of the narrow expanse rested a door to the last room. Well, it was more apt to call it a vault, really. All the other doors were normal for a warehouse, but this one looked like it belonged in a bunker rather than some gang's hideout in the outskirts of the city.

A small, open hole rested in the entryway, and the barrel of a gun poked out from it. Izuku was honestly more astounded than he was concerned. He couldn't tell for certain, but it looked like the firearm was an old Thompson submachine gun. They'd fallen out of military service some two hundred years ago. Sure, they still packed a punch. The gun utilized .45 caliber bullets, and fired them at around eight-hundred rounds per minute. Nothing to scoff at, but still, the thing belonged in a museum.

These guys are weird, Izuku thought dully. They'd cleared out almost the entirety of the warehouse in ten minutes. After they'd been discovered, the Assault Group threw stealth out the window. They met the gangsters with bullets, knives, fists, and feet. The Spartans emerged victorious, without so much as a scratch. The villains on the other hand… Well, it was a good thing that the Support Group had plenty of painkillers and stretchers.

Izuku turned his attention back to the task at hand. They'd scoured the entire building and had made their way to the last area: the basement. He glanced at Fireteam Legacy. They'd volunteered to deal with the final room, and Izuku had to admit, he was excited to see what they'd do.

Keiichi looked at his teammate, one of the fastest Spartans to have survived the augmentations, and nodded to her. "Mawata, you're up."

She simply nodded back, and moved to the far end of the wall at the corner they were all waiting behind. She bent her legs, preparing herself to run, then took off. In a single step, she'd accelerated to ninety-five kilometers per hour. With each subsequent step after that, she only gained in speed.

Light flashed from the barrel sticking out of the door. The first shot went wide, whizzing past her uselessly. The second shot hit her shoulder at an angle, ricocheting off the armor without any effect. The third shot struck true, and impacted dead center in the middle of the chest plate. However, the round lacked the force necessary to penetrate; it did little more than scratch the paint of the titanium alloy. The thug wasn't able to get off a fourth shot, as Mawata tucked her chin into her shoulder and slammed into the security door.

Fifteen centimeters of steel gave way with an ear-splitting shriek. Or maybe that was the villain who was set up right behind it? The guard's face contorted into an expression of intense agony for a brief moment, then went slack as he passed out from the pain. The rest of Mawata's team and Mythic team bolted over to support her, though it was already over by the time they entered the pseudo-bunker.

The last three gang members lay on the floor, their broken and unconscious bodies sprawled out at awkward angles. The one who'd been holding the Thompson SMG had gotten it the worse. It looked like he'd gotten caught in a stampede. Not only had all of his limbs - and most likely his ribs too - been broken in several spots, but blood also poured freely from the places where shrapnel from the door had pierced his skin.

Fireteam Legacy got to work restraining the bodies and destroying any weapons, while Mythic stayed back so that they could keep watch for them. That's when Izuku got the chance to take in his surroundings. It was far more maintained than the rest of the warehouse. The floor had actual carpet, and appeared to have been vacuumed. The walls didn't have any paint peeling off them and the furniture was in better condition than anything above. There was even a refrigerator in the back with a large flat screen TV for entertainment.

Between the heavy-duty door, the improved environment, and secure location underground, Izuku came to the conclusion that this must be a safehouse of some kind. It just felt so disorienting. Compared to the rest of the warehouse, the room was of much better quality.

He looked to Hitoshi for wisdom, but his teammate had little to offer besides an uninspired shrug. He then went back to keeping watch alongside Mei and Will.

With nothing else to go on, Izuku activated his comms. "Mythic One to Control. All hostiles neutralized. The building is secure. Mission accomplished, over."

Author's Note: I know I already said this before, but thank you all for your support so far. Next chapter, next Wednesday.