"How stupid could you nerds possibly be?"
Lavender twinkled above the parking lot with blinking plane lights zooming overhead like fireflies that buzzed in the late summer sky. On the darkening rooftop, still covered in scorch marks and melted puddles of arctic ice, the groups had corralled themselves by the base of the clock tower on the building. In the distance, sirens whirled on cop cars and brakes squeaked on the cars swishing by on the road below.
The entire class was standing around Bakugo who seethed at the faces of the students. He did not imagine that they would have caused such a headache as they did for him that day.
Next to him, Deku stood in his hero uniform, a disconcerted frown pointed at Bakugo. They had already recovered Midnight from the pier. However, they quickly noticed the terrible incident at Steve Buscemi's house. After arriving, they went up to the roof and saw a certain music-loving student stuck halfway into the chimney an covered in dried margarine. He was passed out with his head drooped down with his chin digging into his chest. They transported his lifeless body to the hospital wing, but they decided to round up the class to explain that leaving a teammate behind covered in fake butter was unaccetable.
"This was an easy challenge," Bakugo said. "And what did you all do? You left one of your partners in a chimney. We had to cart of that shaggy-haired moron to the hospital for dehydration."
"Abel is in the hopsital?" Moxie asked. "Man, we should have planned for that."
"We should have planned for something," Anton rolled his eyes.
"You don't cover things in margarine unless you plan on eating them!" Bakugo screamed. "And you bothered Steve Buscemi!"
"It was no problem," Steve, who stood next to Moxie, waved at Bakugo. "Had nothing better to do."
"And you all," Bakugo snarled at Group B. "Who said you could take your clothes off in public?"
"I had to jump off the pier, because that's were the bomb was," James shouted.
"Yeah, but you took your clothes off in public," Bakugo said. "There are rules for that thing."
"You should tell that to Midnight," Austin said. "She was showing off way more skin than necessary."
Realizing Austin made a good point, Bakugo smacked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Without another word, he pointed at the students in Group A, a dark sneer shadowing his face. "You three! Stay here. Everyone else can go. The bus is downstairs waiting for you."
The rest of the class shuffled down the stairs. A few students gave consoling looks at the other three as they rushed past. Blake babbled away in an excited tone about defeating the great Shoto to Megan as she rubbed her arms to regain warmth. James thrust his hands into his pockets and sulked away from everyone. Martel pulled a milkshake out of his void space and drained it in seconds, eliciting a shocked Lloyd to shout about calorie and sugar content. Synaes gagged at the entire class.
As the class disappeared, Katsu was the last to head down the steps. Once he noticed nobody behind him, he stepped backwards up the stairs and poked his head out from the doorway that led off the roof.
Moxie, Anton and Leo stood in front of Deku, Bakugo and Shoto, only the backs of their heads illuminated in the setting sun of twilight. Steve Buscemi sat on the ledge of the roof. Tilting his head, Katsu squinted as the wind seemed to dissipate in order for him to eavesdrop.
"I hope you know that none of you can discuss what you saw," Bakugo growled at them.
From this angle, Katsu noticed how Bakugo's face softened. Shoto had a typical unreadable expression on his face. Deku seemed more reserved, even a small, sorrowful smile wired onto his young face.
"What...what do you mean?" Moxie asked.
"That machine," Deku said. "It's a secret. And it's an experiment for the school. For Principal Tommy."
Anton grunted and threw his hands up. "I don't even care about what that machine does. I just want to go home."
"You'll go home when I say so," Bakugo shouted.
Deku placed a hand on Bakugo's shoulder's. With a quick exchange, Bakugo widened his red eyes and took a deep breath. He relaxed and licked his lips before staring back at the students.
"Just don't tell anyone."
"The machine won't be useable for the next few months," Steve said. "The energy was all used up."
"Did anything come out."
"Actually," Moxie began.
"Nothing," Steve said. He looked over at Moxie and nodded. "Nothing, right?"
Steve winked at the cajun girl. Moxie put her hand in her pocket and rolled the red crystal around in her hands. "Uh...Right."
Leo kept his gaze locked to the tiptoes of his shoes. A small frown furrowed onto his face. He did not want to be apart of anything that was no business of his. However, he wondered why Steve had suddenly lied about this.
"What is the machine for?" Leo asked. "Why does it exist?"
"Becau-." Deku began.
"That's for us to know," Bakugo said. "And for you to never find out."
Bakugo pointed at the exit. Before the students turned and saw him, Katsu scurried down the staircase wondering what was going on.
As he left, the other students headed down the stairs behind them. Bakugo looked around at the others by him, and he shook his head like he was swatting away a firefly.
"What are you all looking at?"
"Kacchan," Deku said. "I think you're being harsh. You did plenty of crazy things back at U.A. also."
"Yeah, and so what if I did," Bakugo said. "Doesn't make them right."
"Midoriya," Shoto faced the green haired hero.
"Yes?"
"Remember the plan."
Izuku nodded at Shoto. Then, with a wave, Shoto headed out towards the staircase.
"The hell did he mean by that?" Bakugo asked.
Izuku said nothing as he followed Shoto, leaving Bakugo with Steve Buscemi.
The famous actor stared at Bakugo. He gave him an awkward stare. Bakugo noticed this and glared at him like he was a sea slug trying to mate with him.
"What do you want, crooked teeth," Bakugo asked.
Steve rubbed the back of his head. "You think I could get a ride?"
Seconds later, Steve screamed his lungs out as he held onto Bakugo's neck for dear life, riding on his back as they headed back to the school. Bakugo and Steve Buscemi sailed through the sky, the bursts of fire from his hands shooting him over the Santa Monica skyline like a rocketship pointed at the full moon above.
In the shower, James punched the wall in front of him.
The cubicle was large enough to move around over the white ceramic tile. The bright azure walls were dotted with evaporated moisture and steam that wafted around the shower area. The four walls hugged James in the shower, and he leaned onto the wall where lukewarm water showered onto his head. His head bowed down, the cool water swam over his black hair and dripped down onto the tile floor of the attached to the shower stall. He was lucky the school was wealthy enough to have these spacious shower cubicles. A black door separated him from the restroom hallway behind him. His dark blue towel was abandoned on the rack hanging on the door.
An electric, water-proof radio played music on the plastic orange shelf above the towel rack. The opening synth chords for "Bette Davis Eyes" danced off the moist walls; The echo tickling his ears as the cranky student controlled his heavy breathing.
James, his fists balled up, smacked them on the tile wall. The sting from his fists dissipated with the lukewarm water running over the bulged veins his skin. He craned his neck towards his shower bag on the bench by the towel rack. His phone remained dormant, not a single message from anybody back home.
This was supposed to be his year. His time to shine, and he was already blowing it. He embarrassed himself in front of the other students and in front of a Pro-Hero.
Listening to the song, he closed his eyes. He saw his life in Florida. The ocean and the beaches that gleamed with sand whiter than greek marble. The scent of salty seaweed and the massaging waves smoothing out the imperfections on the shore. Just himself on the beach. Nobody to bother him, but also nobody to speak to him.
James opened his eyes up and stared at the tile. His back muscles relaxed, the water pattering at his outline of his body was just visible from the shadow cast by the tungsten lighting overhead. He had to remember why he was there. He had the quirk, and he had the physical attributes to be the greatest hero of all time! One rough day with a bunch of mediocre manatees wouldn't hurt his chances.
Besides, when he was able to utilize his quirk to the fullest, he would create a fireworks display that would make the Kentucky Derby blush.
At peace, James flashed himself a cocky grin. He was going to show all of these people what he could do. One way or another, his name would be in the history books forever.
His grin immediately vanished when he heard a knock.
Another knock.
James closed his eyes. If he just ignored it, they would go away.
Knock.
"James," an annoying Canadian accented voice said. "I know you are in there."
"I'm busy, butterworm." James grunted out.
"I need to exorcise the glitter from today off my body. All the other shower stalls are out of order."
"So do I, bastard," James shouted. "Why else would I be in here for so long?"
"I...I don't want to think about that." Lloyd's voice reverberated from the walls.
"Cheap ass school," James grunted to himself. "Couldn't make the showers work before opening."
"Can you hurry it up, please? You should only spend fifteen minutes in a shower. Otherwise, you're skin begins to shrink."
"Unless you want to join me, shut up and leave me alone!"
The water continued to rush over James. The words he said did not connect until seconds later when Lloyd opened his mouth.
"Are you being seriou-."
"No, I wasn't being serious!"
"That sounds quite unhygienic," Lloyd lectured.
"Like anyone would want to see you naked!" James yelled.
"Uh...how much longer will you be?"
"I'll leave when I'm done, you rubbery parakeet."
A pause.
"What?"
"Shut up."
"And why are you listening to that on the radio?"
"I like this song. Shut up!"
In the main lobby area, throngs of students milled about in the early evening. Some older students were still moving things into their rooms. A pair of them lugged a couch into the elevator. One girl whose head was in the shape of a beaver munched away at a packet of nuts by the reception desk.
In the long line at the vending machine, Anton tapped his foot as people crowded for their snacks. He stood at the tail end of the line that stretched to the midway point of the
"Hey, Anton."
Robyn bumped her shoulder in the green boy. With a huff, he looked down slightly at the Asian girl. Wearing bright pink pajamas, she bounded on her tiptoes and scanned the long line in front of them.
"You seem happy."
"Why wouldn't I? This school is crazy, isn't it," The chirpy girl said.
Anton nodded and gave a quick shrug.
Moron. Smile at her! Compliment her!
Anton wanted to tell Pathogen that he really didn't want to do any of those things.
I know you don't wanna, but you should. Besides, we met Steve Buscemi today! Tell her about it!
"I met Steve Buscemi today," Anton said as they moved an inch forward in the line.
"Oh my gosh, I love him so much," Robyn hopped up in her spot like a happy rabbit. "What was he like? Was his house nice?"
"He..." Anton trailed off. What could he say to this girl that would make him seem interesting?
"He?"
"He smelled like garlic," Anton said.
Nailed it.
Drake sat on the bare hardwood floor of his room. Dressed in a simple black t-shirt with a bearskin black jacket, he stared down at the set up chessboard in front of him. This was a regular hobby for him. His room was hardly designed properly. A simple full-sized bed with wooden plank legs and a red comforter lay on top of the impenetrable mattress. The rest of the world disappeared to him. Only the chessboard was illuminated to him as it sat on top of the fuzzy velvet rug that he had brought from home.
"It was also amazing how you decided to fly off like that," Blake said. The excitable was on his knees across the board. Despite moving his pawn, he was far more interested in recounting the events of the day. "Even if what I did ended up badly, like Shoto roasted me or something, you probably could have still swiped in and taken him out. Or not. Maybe if he had just burned me and froze you, then it would be better. But then he would probably feel all burnt, too. Isn't that hilarious."
Drake moved a knight forward a few spots and to the left. Blake just pushed another pawn forward.
"So, if you are like part dragon, do you like gold," Blake rattled along. "I heard dragon's love gold. You were a lot of jewelry, so I'm assuming you do! I think even Megan was impressed, although she was kinda mean to us earlier. Hey, you know that we might have some crazy contests and all of that in the future. I think we should team up for those. I can't really beat people up that well, but I could get beaten up. In fact, if you ever want to punch or burn me if we are near a villain, you're more than welcome to do so! It reminds me of when my parents were out in Japan one time. You know our teacher, Mister Bakugo? Well, when they were in Japa-."
"Checkmate."
Blake snapped his gaze towards the chess board. Sure enough, the king was captured.
The boy looked back up at Drake. His face of surprise morphed into one of genuine admiration.
Hunter mashed on the buttons of the controller. The arms on his back became a quick unfair advantage as he used some of his extra thumbs to jam on the other pads on the controller faster than Austin could handle.
On the split screen game, the two attacked the horde of zombies. Blood splattered on the screen, but Austin found his side to be covered in much more blood. His controller vibrated in his hands with every impact he took.
With one more swipe of the zombie's claws, his character collapsed to the ground and was eaten alive on screen.
Hunter's side blared with a golden trophy and the words "You're Winner."
"Yes, I knew I'd do it," Hunter fist-pumped in the air.
"I just can't win this game," Austin said.
In his room, Leo brushed the tip of an indigo lacquer onto a miniature soldier. A warm spotlight blared overhead and pointed down at the work on his mahogany desk. The rest of the room was dark. Next to the one soldier, a pile of painted miniatures were positioned on a small green patch of grass that simulated a battlefield.
After finishing the stroke, he flipped open the bronze pocket-watch that laid next to a pile of books that held Shakespeare plays and books. It was just past quiet hours at eleven at night.
Closing the watch, Leo continued to paint not bothered by the sounds of debauchery and zombie slaying outside.
Martel sat on his bed, a small hot glue gun merging together a metal pole on a strange green cube. The blue sheets crinkled underneath his body as he shifted around to get the best angle.
Still wearing his uniform, the hot glue solidified and melded the pole with the plastic surface. His elbow knocked into a picture on the wooden dresser next to him, that of himself with his father.
Synaes and Megan sat next to each other. The television blared out with the news of the day.
"...another rash of robberies that have occurred in the south central are of Los Angeles. In other news, what do you have for us, Deborah."
Switching to a reporter on the Santa Monica pier, a young lady with bleach-blonde hair held the microphone right to her lips.
"People got quite a show today as a group of students at the new hero school opening up nearby made an appearance and battled Japanese Pro-Hero Midnight!"
"Deborah, can you relax. You're blowing our ears out in the studio."
"But it was amazing! It was the most action I've seen in years!"
"I'm sure it was."
Megan snorted at the odd reporters. Synaes let out a sigh and crossed her legs on the plush red sofa in Megan's room.
"Are all Americans like this? Loud and annoying?"
"Not all of them," Megan said. "Drake was actually quite helpful today."
"But other than him?"
A pause.
"Yup. Pretty much."
In the hospital bed, Abel lay as inert as a corpse, the IV drip flooding his body with useful nutrients and fluids. His headphones were covering his ears.
No music played.
In the hotel room, Katsu and Shoto lay in their separate twin beds. A small night stand with a black lamp stood between them. It was dark with only the refracted light of the Downtown Los Angeles area glowing a soft sheen of white onto the wall across from Katsu. An occasional police siren would zoom past, and the quiet wind whistled over the window.
After a few minutes of soft breathing, Shoto shifted himself and turned to his side. His body was wrapped in the lilac sheets.
"I know you heard us," Shoto said to break the silence. "I won't say anything, but promise you won't say anything."
Katsu stared up at the ceiling. Shoto's breathing soothed him.
"Katsu?"
"I dug up Bakugo's box today. Of Uraraka."
"What?"
"His box of memories. Martel had a tracker that led us there. We thought it was the bomb. Before I remembered you pointing out the clock tower on our drive to school. The box had a bunch of photos of him and Uraraka."
"Anything...inappropriate?"
"Wha-? I wasn't exactly looking for that!"
"I just heard about this party one time after graduation," Shoto swallowed. "And I need to know if there were any photos."
"Shoto! No!"
"Did you bury it back?"
"He shouldn't notice a thing."
Shoto nodded. The covers around him ruffled as he righted himself back to normal. He looked at the stippled-white ceiling and scratched at a stray strand of silk that tickled his bare feet.
"I feel a little guilty. I never really knew her."
"It's not your fault."
The hum of the small mini fridge by the microwave vibrated through the room. Katsu traced a circle around the top of his duvet cover. After a few more terse seconds, Katsu let out a sigh and scratched his head.
"You're not here just for me, are you?" Katsu said. "You're here for either Bakugo or that machine."
Nothing.
Then, a snore.
Back at her own home, Moxie stood in front of a white vanity with a tall, curvy mirror straight out of a fairy tale. Her room was small, but well-organized. The pink walls with white baseboards that circled around the perimeter, a nice lavender scent smoked off the lit candle next to the mirror.
Her queen-sized bed had wooden pegs and covers that matched the color of her walls. The walls were still bare with the exception of an old hemp-woven rucksack that she pinned with a tack onto the wall by the walk-in closet opposite the bed, a memento of her old life in Louisiana.
Wearing a purple tee shirt and black sweatpants, she stared down at the dark ruby crystal gifted to her. She had no idea why Steve had decided to lie to the others. However, Steve did tell her to keep the gem and let him know if anything odd happened throughout her day.
She was a little hesitant, but also a little excited. Adventure was something her life sorely lacked, and this whole situation unveiled a world of possibilities to her.
Unravelling the golden chain around the ruby, she draped the necklace over her arm. The gem clung right in the middle of her chest, a slight gleam reflecting off the mirror of the dark gem.
She liked how the crystal looked, admiring how well it went with her graphite eyes and alabaster skin. However, nothing else of note occurred.
"No big deal," she said.
With that, Moxie bent down to one of the drawers underneath the vanity. She had forgetting to move her toothbrush to the bathroom, so she fumbled for it through the dresser.
If she had looked up, she would have seen that her body had obscured the man standing just a few feet behind her.
A boy around her age stared at himself in the mirror. His face paled as he realized he was in a room with this unfamiliar girl looking through her vanity. The thin boy was wearing a black robe around him with an odd school uniform underneath. A green tie wrapped around his neck, and his matching eyes flickered around in shock at where he was. His blonde hair was styled with a messy fringe undercut, the shirt in his uniform untucked.
A few seconds ago, he was in darkness. Nothing but a dim void that imprisoned him. He knew not where he was, nor did he remember that well where he came from. However, he knew this was not his land, and his desire to find a way home struck a deep pang at his heart.
As he stared at his own reflection, a voice came out of nowhere and filtered into his ears.
What is this?
Welcome to your new story.
"Where am I?"
Moxie dropped the toothbrush in her hand.
Oops. The boy thought to himself.
She arced her head to the side. Her entire body slowly twisted around. The random voice speaking out just feet away and behind her.
Upright at full attention, Moxie came face to face with the most impossibly green eyes she ever stared into, and the pale skin of a boy who simply gaped at her.
A standoff.
The ceiling fan rumbled above to waft down cool air. A bird chirped outside.
Grey attached on green.
A quick intake of air.
Then, the boy flashed a cheeky grin and waved.
"Good evening, love," He said in a thick, British accent.
Moxie was only surprised to learn later on that her scream, in fact, did not shatter any windows.
Another chapter! And the official end of the next "episode" if you will.
What do you think will happen next? What do you WANT to happen next?
I'm thinking of doing one of those funny "omake" episodes that some anime do. They are basically comic relief episodes that are outside of the main plot. Nothing fancy, just 2-3k words.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas!
And yes, the guy at the end is a character that I have known for a while. We will learn more in the next EPISODE!
Think of the end of this episode as sort of a montage. A montage set to "Bette Davis Eyes" by Kim Carnes. IDK why. Just thought it was funny thinking of James showering while listening to that song.
Thank you so much. Keep up all the discussion and meme posting you can. You won't believe just how easy it is to get words out when people actively care about what you are writing.
Make sure you REVIEW, though. It is even more important! The more reviews, the more energy I have to keep going! Simple as that!
Thank you. See you soon!