CHAPTER TWELVE: The Evil That Men Do

"Love is a razor and I walked the line/on that silver blade"

"P-please...I-I have f-family..." the salaryman babbled, slumped on the dirty pavement as his gaze looked up to the blonde teenage holding the dripping tanto. His suit was almost in tatters, his body covered in gashes and deep cuts. The cavity that should have been his right eye was a gaping, empty socket pouring an inordinate amount of blood.
Himiko smiled, her fangs flashing in the crimson radiance of the sunset disappearing over the skyline. Her eyes were looking at the person like she was looking at an insect stapled on an entomologist's table: in other occasions, she would have fawned over the man's wounds like a lovestruck teen - but right now her mind was occupied by one thing and one thing only: to reunite with her man. This thing babbling in the alleyway meant nothing to her. Since she left the hideout, her own blood was screaming at her like she was dying of thirst in the middle of the desert. Whatever kick, whatever ecstasy she took from the act disappeared if Da-kun wasn't there, or at least waiting for her return in the hideout.
Himiko wasn't used to overthinking: she did what she wanted and thought about the consequences later, if ever. In a way, her fancy to Dave started like that: she saw him, she liked him, and thus she pursued him. But now... now it was somehow different. Dave listened. Dave never judged, not even with his eyes. Dave wasn't afraid when he cut him. Sure, he was annoyed, but he accepted it as part of her love for him. He was patient in guiding her, in helping her understand - and in understanding her. She couldn't fathom him not being part of her life anymore - it would have been like going blind all of a sudden. The prospect terrified her so much.

She belonged with him. He belonged with her - they were one. In body, in soul. He drank his blood so many times - turning into him when he was out of the room, those brief moments of separation, to see that imago in the mirror. He knew. He didn't care. One time, she even offered to turn into any girl he wanted - to spice things up, and he said no. He said he only wanted her.
Her smile faded into a cold, cruel sneer as she squatted down to look at the man in the face. Her fingers took hold of his hair as she kept the blade at his throat. "Again. Who took my boyfriend away?" she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone. "And where did they take him?"

"G-guh... I-I don't know... there were... many... men, women...even children... they-they tazed him... threw him into a car...blue car... I don't know anything else... please...please..."

"Where. Did the car. Go." she hissed. "You aren't telling me what I want. I'm not liking it."

"D-down the main road... I ran, I was scared...I don't know anything... I beg you... my wife..."

"I'll tell her how you died." she giggled, before a spray of blood spattered the left side of her face and the man slumped lifeless against the wall. She got up slowly, her darkened eyes staring at the place where Dave was captured from the shadows of the alleyway. He had to find him. And make whoever did that pay very, very dearly.

"Well." Mark chuckled. "Looks like your meat shield got caught. Pretty ballsy for you to come here alone."
The surviving screen - cracked but still somehow functioning - was showing Muscular lying down face first on the middle of an unnamed street, the imposing figure of All Might towering over him as the dust was just beginning to settle. The scene around the pair was one of total destruction; obviously, the villain didn't go down without a fight.
Mark's penthouse office wasn't in better shape: Tomura Shigaraki didn't make a subtle entrance. Half the building was already in ruins and the faded echoes of sirens from the streets below were quickly rising in pitch, coming from the gaping hole in the wall he made with one single punch.
The man in the suit was, however, unfazed. He kept standing with his hands folded behind his back: while his main target arrived earlier than he expected, he was prepared to receive him. Fate had conspired to keep his old friend out of the way and take out the brute without him having to intervene. He felt sure of his advantage: as usual, to the point of arrogance.

"Where's Dabi?" the young man growled. He was in even less of a mood for small talk that he usually was, and the only thing holdng him from reducing the prick in the Armani suit smiling in front of him to a thin red paste was the fact he still didn't know where his teammate was.

"Poof." Mark replied with a mocking smile. "Gone. What are you gonna do about it, big boy?"

"Kill you. Slowly." Tomura replied before springing forward like a predator, one hand outstretched to melt Mark's face off... only to stop abruptly mid-jump and fall flat on his face.

Banishment complete. The voice in the tall man's head resonated quietly. I wouldn't toy with him much, were I you. He's still dangerous.

No, he isn't. Mark replied. Not anymore.

Shigaraki got up almost immediately, looking at him in a moment of disbelief. "How the fuck-"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Mark laughed. "But nah. I'd better demonstrate further." He raised one hand and snepped his fingers like he was calling a servant. "Banishment: sight."

Darkness fell on the young villain's like a shroud. The last thing he heard was another snap and "Banishment: hearing." and he was pretty sure he started screaming. Only he couldn't hear anything anymore. He flailed in the dark trying to reach for him, feeling the acrid stench of the smoke disappear in the event horizon his senses were plunged into. He kept screaming, he kept punching. He felt contact with something - a wall, something hard... and then not even that anymore. All he had was rage and fear and the encroaching darkness, closer, ever closer and he couldn't keep it at bay. All his power... for nothing. He lost.

"Banishment: somatic nervous system." Mark snapped his fingers one last time - speaking with a cold, clinical tone. Shigaraki fell to the floor in a twitching mess, his scream fading into a whimper.

See? Told you. He smugly called out his own invisible counselor.

Hm. The voice replied. One day your hubris will be your undoing. The voice's tone was detached, unemotional - only with a faint trace of amusement.

Not this time. Mark took out a smartphone from his pocket book and pressed a button. "Get someone to retrieve the target and bring him to location 2. Now. I don't want him to be around when the force arrives. You have two minutes."

"Yes, Sir." a stern female voice answered before he cut the communication and lazily stared at the ruins of his office with a vague smile on his face. "Worth it, in the end. Everything's going fine and dandy."