The boy dug his shoes through the sand. The small village far behind him, he panted through the thick curtain of scorching air that lit his lungs aflame. He wasn't the most athletic kid anyway, but the miles of sand before him made the saliva in his mouth evaporate with every inhale.

His knees buckled. The boy whirled his arms around and regained balance. He pushed ahead, his shoes cinderblocks pressing down on his feet. The sun above blinded him with only the rolling sand mountains and the occasional cactus spotting the horizon.

"Don't worry kid," the voice said. "You're only a couple of miles away."

The boy twitched his nose in annoyance from a fly that buzzed past. He brushed a hand through his thick black hair. The coarse pebbles of sand scratched at his dry fingers when he shook away a few of the particles. They were replaced in an instant with the whipping breeze sprinkling more dust around his face.

He swatted a few specks that tickled his chin. Brushing away the dirt, he blinked away the spots of black that swirled around in his gaze. When he looked back towards the horizon, he squinted at a new structure in the distance.

A small black house, more like a wooden shack, sat on the edge of the dried out lake bank. Flecks of sand and minerals glistened like tempered glass on the floor of the desert making the shack look like an island in of itself. A rectangular building with a flat roof, the spotless entrance gave way to a black abyss within the cabin.

The boy imagined the voice wanted him to get inside the building. He brushed his feet over the sand with wisps of dirt circling around his ankles. A soft ringing beamed into his ears, not entirely unpleasant but vibrating enough within his lines to make them twitch.

He touched his ears to cover them from the ringing. The harsh wind whistled beyond his hands as he pushed through the dense wind.

He reached the edge of the dried-up lake bed. Before him was the cabin. He stopped right at the precipice; a strange line of solid gold that gleamed before the obsidian blanket that covered the contents of the shack's interior.

The boy stopped just shy of the precipice. His legs bag an to shake. He was no fan of the darkness, let alone strange wooden buildings that popped up out of nowhere in the desert. He turned his head back and cast a look over his shoulder. The village behind him had disappeared and only a sheen of dirt and auburn sand dropped in the air casting a heated haze. He may as well be on another planet.

When he turned back, he considered the darkness and his teeth chattered in spite of the scorching air. Was he afraid of death? A monster? This voice driving him crazy?

"Don't be afraid, boss," the voice said. "This is all part of the plan."

The boy hesitated at the edge of the doorway. From his view, there was nothing in the small hut. He could not see any walls or even the floor itself. The ringing emanated within his ears and the whistling wind pierced at his brain.

He lifted a hand up and extended it into the abyss. His twitched at the cold that nipped at his fingertips. It was much more frigid inside the hut than the sauna of the desert outside.

The boy never considered himself brave, but he had no other recourse. The voice would not go away without him doing its bidding, and a part of him wanted to solve whatever this mystery thrown onto his lap had created.

His teeth chattering from the polar air inside, he stepped out into the open doorway and slipped through the black.

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"-didn't have to bring him here."

"This was the only safe place around. It's not like the Syndicate is located next door."

"Why couldn't you just call in or something?"

"He never gave me his phone. Only you have it."

"Then call me and I'll handle it. I have Mass in twenty minutes."

"It's Friday night."

"I celebrate the Eucharist every night. It's what I do. And besides, this kid is too scrawny."

"He has a powerful quirk. And besides, he's low-key and unassuming enough to blend in."

"Blend in? He's green!"

Anton lifted the stone dam that were his eyelids until light pooled into his gaze. Blinking away the blur, his head aches while he craned his neck against ropes that hugged his hands to his chest and around a wooden chair.

Before him was a long cathedral bathed in dim candlelight. He sat on the altar right in front of a marble table that he could just from the corner of his eye. On the elevated platform, he pressed his bare feet down on satin carpet and witnessed two people arguing in front of him.

He recognized Megan still in her clothes from earlier. She stood at the same height with her arms crossed as the man across from her. She glared at him; a frail and pasty man who matched the satin cream cloth draped around his bony shoulders. His strands of white hair cling to his liver-spot infested scalp that gleamed from the flickering candlelight on both sides of the altar. His body hunched and his priest garb clinging loose to him, he shuffled in his black dress shoes and twisted the wooden cane in his hand.

"He's our best chance at getting the page," Megan said. "They'll trust him."

"They don't trust anybody," he said in a paper smooth voice. "If they find out who he really is..."

Anton, seeing they paid no attention to him, dug his dull fingernails into the rope that bound his hands. He stretched his fingers over his back pocket and felt the sharp point of the pocket knife. He flicked his fingers upward and climbed the foldable metal clasp upward towards the palm of his hand.

He grasped it in his small palms and pressed on the red button on the side. The blade swished open. He pushed the sharp double edges onto the strand of rope right by his other wrist. His heart palpitated with a desire to get out of the chair and away as soon as he could. The last thing he remembered was being in Megan's room. They were talking about some old pages from a book, and now he was tied up in front of her. His first priority before asking any questions, however, was to escape the ropes.

It was thin and more like twine, so one slash took down one of the strands wrapped around him.

Anton kept his head down as he transferred the knife to his free hand. He slid the blade right to the back of his other wrist and pressed the cool metal to his wrist. If he cut away the rope and slashed his wrist at the same time, he could release Pathogen.

"Our only real hope at getting it is him," Megan said. "He would fit in well with us."

"We haven't been in servers for hundreds of years just so we can invite angst-ridden and greasy-haired teenage boys into our mix."

Slash!

Anton grunted at the smear of pain that zapped his wrist. Blood bubbling around the wound, he ripped off the ropes and they tumbled to the ground. He shot to his feet with such force that the wooden chair collapsed back onto the satin carpet.

"Pathogen," Anton shouted. The boy held out his wrist.

Before Megan could react, a laser of purple haze shot out of Anton's wrist and slammed into Megan. Pathogen entered the girl and began his damage immediately. Megan slammed onto her back and convulsed on the floor. Her limbs flailed with no control as her arms contorted with hot lava pouring into her veins. Her vocal chords froze with only a gasp akin to a fish flopping on a deck spat out of her mouth.

Anton held the knife with his other hand and pointed it towards the old Priest, the blood-tinged metal blinking with a dull sheen in the candlelight.

"Who are you people?" Anton shouted. "I'll sick Pathogen on all of you!"

The priest held up his hands with his cane pinched between his fingers. "Young man, there's only two of us here. Calm down."

Anton seethed and jabbed the knife in the air towards the Priest. "I'll stab you!"

"You wouldn't stab a member of the clergy. That's a one way ticket to hell."

"I'll go to confession," Anton said.

"You're not even Catholic, young man. Now sit down and listen."

"Never!" Anton shouted.

With a scream, Anton charged at the priest. Pathogen flowed through his wrist at Megan. Anton knew that if he could get past the old man, he would have no problem escaping beyond the giant oak doors with tempered glass of the Virgin Mary beyond the long central aisle. All that stood between him and freedom was the frail man in cream robes.

Taking one more step, Anton leaped forward and kicked out his leg hoping to nidhe the priest aside instead of stabbing him. However, in mid-air, the Priest twitched his hand.

The cane, previously at the priest's side, jabbed into Anton's gut like a bolt of lightning from the stormy clouds outside. His momentum dug his body into the dull rubber stop, kicking the wind out of Anton's lungs. The cane dug deep with the Priest stabbing it with the force of a trained boxer.

Anton puffed out hot air before slamming the ground on his back. He dropped his knife and clutched his stomach. The boy curled up in a ball and groaned in pain. His legs shook as he pathetically whined.

"Ooh," Anton shouted. "Oh, ow, ow, ooh. God, why?"

He rolled on his side with tears bubbling at the corners of his eyes. He shrieked out as Pathogen retreated back into his body.

Megan stopped convulsing and sat up on the floor. Using her arms to hold herself up, she caught her breath and examined Anton as he gagged on the air.

"Seriously, young man," The Priest asked. "I didn't even hit you that hard."

Megan rolled her eyes and crawled over to Anton's side. The boy stopped shouting and rubbed his midsection which was already tender from bruising. Her arms still twitched from the remnants of pain sipping through her body from Pathogen. She looked her head over Anton's casting a deep shadow that obscured the candlelight.

"Damn, that Pathogen still hurts," Megan looked down at the writhing boy. "Are you alright, Anton?"

"Why would I be alright?" Anton shouted out. "You kidnapped me!"

"Just temporarily," the priest said. He hobbled over and smacked his cane just inches away from the top of Anton's hair. The boy froze and looked up at the old man.

"What do you want?" Anton asked. "If you wanna kill me, just get it over with. Then I won't have to turn in that report Mister Bakugo wants next week."

"Mister Nosoi, is it?" The priest said with a sly grin on his face. "I hope you are still willing to listen to my introduction. I am Father Enzo, and Megan here is my personal liaison for the Syndicate."

Anton blinked and turned over to face Megan. The girl crossed her arms in confidence and tilted her head.

"Huh?" Anton asked.

Megan rolled her eyes. "I haven't explained anything yet to him."

Father Enzo cleared his throat. "Oh, right. Let me explain."

James slapped his hands on the keyboard. With a deep grunt of frustration, he grumbled to himself at the cacophony of words splattered onto the page. A line of various numbers vomited on the screen stared back at him and mocked him with the laughter of an entire classroom of students pointing at him. The sunshine of the setting sun over the ridge of the cliffside beamed through the bay windows of the library. Seated at a small cocobolo desk, he smacked his fists on the table and slammed the large textbook next to the laptop shut.

The loud smack emanated through the quiet room. A few heads poked towards the boy, but he paid no attention as he hugged himself with his strong arms. He scowled down at the screen that had taunted him for the past hour. What kind of monster would assign a five page, single-spaced paper before the weekend. Especially a weekend as important as the one that followed starting tomorrow.

Hearing a thick Cajun accent, James flicked his eyes towards the corner of the room. Moxie had just walked in and bumped shoulders with someone. Apologizing, she shook off the impact and reached for a book. The grey-eyed girl with black stockings up to her thighs cracked open the book and dragged her finger over some of the pages. He stared at the girl as she frowned down at the pages.

James had no real opinion on Shoto having cancer. Sure, it sucked that a Pro-Hero of his stature was stricken with some illness. There was nothign he could do about, however. Frankly, he could not care less about Katsu and ow he felt about it. If Shoto was going to be a big baby about it, then it was his issue to deal with. He never gossiped about anybody, so he had no problems with keeping secrets especially ones he did not care to no.

That said, he didn't like to see Moxie sad about anything. For as nosy as the girl was, she had yet to betray his trust in getting those embarrassing injections. And for as annoying as her evangelical stances were on everything, she at least came from a more humble place unlike Lloyd who seemed to preach every second as if he had all of life's choices.

Seeing the girl sad made his heart twitch just a millimeter as if he was just surprised by static shock on a metal doorknob.

Deciding he was too uninspired and lazy to finish the report, he closed his laptop and slid out of his chair.

"Hiya, James!"

James squawked like a frightened flamingo and tumbled back onto his chair. Appearing out of thin air, Blake grinned that unsettling smile right into his face as he clutched a book around his thin chest. The boy with wavy hair loomed right above James's desk and leaned towards him like he was examining his face.

"Whaddya want, you...you...shit, I don't have a name for you yet. Who are you?" James asked.

"What are you working on?" Blake asked.

James scowled and grabbed his laptop. Wedging it under his arm, he got up and slid past Blake. He had to get out of there and head back to his room for a small nap before his last gym session of the day. "None of your business."

"You know what you're writing about? Isn't our report so cool?" Blake babbled away. He followed James through the different rows and aisles of the library that seemed to criss and cross like a corn maze. "We get to write about our favorite villains and how they evaded arrest! You could write about anybody."

"It's not supposed to be exciting," James shoved a hand in his dress pant pocket and hunched his shoulders.

"But it is! Hey, maybe I could do something on the Zodiac Killer. He was my favorite one when I was growing up until they found out who it was. Which is a shame because I had my money on that one senator from Texas. But i guess he's responsible for some other crime somewhere. Although I was always interested in Jack The Ripper, but he's kinda more a myth than anything. I think most of them were unrelated, but they just wanted to be copycats of other people."

"It's supposed to be about Villains, you toucan," James said with a smug confidence at finding a proper animal name. "People with quirks."

"That's not what Mister Bakugo said," Blake bounded next to James.

James felt a migraine tapping at his skull like a mini hammer to his testicles. He needed a way out of here and fast. For some reason, he could not remember where the exit was in this massive library. With this chatterbox next to him vomiting ribbons of words about favorite serial killers, he made a quick turn around the corner. Cutting the diversion sharp, he stepped right into the face of Moxie who was distracted reading a book. They smacked into each other with Moxie toppling over and taking James with her.

The boy growled when his back smacked the carpet floor. The rush of air made his head hurt worse as a heavy force pressed itself onto his chest. Moxie's elbows dug into his abdomen as she broke her own fall with James' body. The book in her hand rested by Blake's feet open on a page right down the middle.

Staring right into each other's eyes, Moxie's breath tickled James' nose with the sligth smell of mint emanating from the air. With a squeak, Moxie lifted her head up and gawked down at James.

"Oh, gravy," Moxie said. "I'm sorry, James. Got more distracted than a nutria on moonshine."

"A what?" James said. He noticed their proximity and the contact of her skin to his and felt his face grow warm. "Get off me! What are you doing?"

Moxie rolled to her side in a seated position and scooted back. James at up and pulled down the sleeves on his wrinkled uniform blazer. He grimaced at the ache in his lower back when he grunted and lurched around to face Moxie.

"I wanna sit, too!" Blake said. He plopped himself down in the makeshift circle by the book and crossed his legs like he was playing a game of Duck, Duck, Goose.

Moxie flung a strand of her long coconut hair away from her eyes and scratched the back of her neck. "I wasn't paying attention. Sorry."

Before James could snap back, he noticed the downtrodden girl avoiding his gaze. Remembering how hard she was taking Shoto's news, he sighed and decided to take a more nuanced approach.

"I wasn't, either. I would've if this parakeet here wasn't distracting me," James jabbed a thumb towards Blake.

"Parakeet? I like that one," Blake's eyes lit up. "It reminds me of my friend. She had a parakeet one time. Although I think it got eaten by a snake at one point. Or that's what she told me. I think she just decided to let it starve or something. Maybe she forgot to feed it."

James narrowed his eyes at Blake. "How do you forget to feed a parakeet?"

Ignoring him, Blake's eyes lit up at the book. "Oh, a drug book," Blake picked up the large text and looked down at the pictures of various powders and liquids on the page. "This is so cool. Are you looking up ways to knock people out, Moxie?"

Moxie emitted a nervous chuckle and dug the heel of her dress shoes into the carpet. "No, I was just researching," She said in a slow voice.

"Well, this is the perfect drug to knock people out," Blake turned the book and showed it at the other two. "Secobarbital. Will put anyone right to sleep. Almost as good as horse tranquilizers."

Moxie stroked the bottom of her chin with her thumb. Deep in thought, she scooted across towards Blake and tried to sneak a glance over the cover. "Why would someone use that?"

Blake flipped through the pages with indifference with his wild eyes scanning over the words. "Oh, could be all kinds of things! Knocking out somebody. Kidnapping them. Wisdom teeth. Dragging people down into a dungeon and keeping them there forever. I guess it could also be used for end of life things, but those deaths are always boring and not at all worth discussing."

Moxie locked eyes with Blake and inched back on her haunches. "End of life?"

Blake scoffed. "Well, you know when people get really sick or bored of living, they decide to kill themselves. In such a boring fashion, no less. Don't you wanna go out with a bang? A big explosion or fighting someone or blowing yourself up with dynamite? Hey, wait. Where are you going? I wasn't finished on the side effects which are way more interesting and deadly!"

Moxie squeaked and shot up to her feet as if the floor was ablaze. She clutched the area around her heart and pulled out her phone in another hand. With a quick huff, she spun on her heels and stormed away from the two on the ground. The ground shook from her pounding feet which caused a few of the books on the shelves around the group to rattle in place before settling.

Blake shut the book and shot a quick look at James who was only staring at the wake of Moxie's run. "What's up with her?"

James said nothing and climbed back up to his feet. He could not believe it, but he was beginning to grow concerned about Moxie and her well-being. With the Sport's Festival only a day away, being in a bad state of mind would make her dangerous. Worse, if he was paired up with her in some situation, she would be a major liability. He remembered just how confused she was during the Heroes and Villains exercise. If she fell asleep during the festival, it could spell disaster for his chances to be the winner.

But also...there was something off putting about the girl being frazzled and stressed out. It was almost like he was sad at seeing her upset.

James smacked himself on the face. Hard. He grunted out with a sharp crimson handprinted pasted on his face. Snapping out of his reverie, he balled up his fists and cleared his throat. He could not sink into any pity or emotions for anyone at the school.

"What a nosy girl," James said.

Blake got up and hovered oddly close next to James. "She is kinda weird, but she doesn't seem all that bad. Kinda reminds me of one of those old Southern Belles. You think she's gonna be a big deal tomorrow? I don't think her quirk is the best for combat, but I guess it could do some damage if she snuck up on people."

James, without another word, headed out of the library. Blake decided it was getting late and followed the main. For once, James didn't mind the noise. It distracted him.

The drive up to the tranquil Redwoods was the longest Shoto had ever been in a car.

Through the entirety of California, Shoto's hair waved from the wind blowing past his car cruising down the interstate. Twining through the palm trees of the Pacific Coast and circling around the cliffs of the oceanside, Shoto blew out a breath and shook his limbs to regain strength after crouching in the cockpit for so long.

Pulling his rented vehicle into the parking entrance to the trailhead, Shoto popped the trunk of his car and lifted out a large hiking bag. Throwing it around his back, he fastened the buckle on the front and pulled down the sleeves on his old U.A. track jacket. Never much of a fashion fan, he stuck to most of the clothes that were given to him. The heavy air slammed down on his shoulders with the crisp wind singing through the giant trees that towered over him and covered the setting sunshine in a canopy of truss leaves and stout chestnut trunks that rode into the sky. The lights of RVs and cars pulling out of the trailhead lot blinked as they rumbled away with a few others milling by a snack bar right by the information booth.

Sneaking a look at the group, he noticed it was a large family. A happy mother and father who were laughing at their small kids playing tag with each other. They made a symphony of joyous noise while another child slurped on a milkshake from the bar. Shoto wondered to himself what that bliss was like, a bliss that he would always chase but not gain. He bit his lip and shook his head as if he were shaking away a fly. He became more jealous of people with no quirks everyday. He could live a life with solitude and no major responsibilities. And maybe he would have had a more normal family. He would be by the snack bar playing tag with Natsuo and Toya. His mother would not be in a mental hospital. His dad...

Well, he probably would have been insufferable anyway.

Shoto made sure everything needed was out of the trunk. He grabbed an envelope in a manila folder that was hidden in the corner. He grabbed it and folded up the envelope before shoving it into his pocket. Seeing nothing left in the trunk, he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and flung it into the trunk. Then, he took his car keys and did the same. With a huff, he slammed the trunk shut and grabbed the water bottle from the side pocket of his hiking bag. He had a long hike before he reached his destination, so he needed to be prepared.

Taking a swig, he marched for the trailhead. Pavement gave way to dirt as he stepped over onto the trail. It was the longest trail that promised a spectacular view at the very summit at the end. A view that peaked above the giant redwood trees that loomed over Shoto like angels preparing to take him away to heaven.

A few robins fluttered away from a prickly bush by the side of the trailhead map. Shoto had his own, so he paid no mind while passing it. His shoes scrunching over the dirt, he kicked a few pebbles away from himself. One of the pebbles, somehow, appeared to rattle forward. However, at the last bounce it took, it ricocheted off the top of a hidden stone in the dirt and skyrocketed up in a spectacular arc. Like it had jumped off a trampoline, the pebble tumbled upward and towards the back of a traveler's head who had been looking at the map for the trail.

Bouncing off a head of blonde hair, a quick tab of breathe before the hiker let out a soft gasp. He grabbed the impact spot and rubbed his skull.

"Ouch," a youthful voice said. "Was that a bee?"

Shoto realized his mistake and approached the boy. Dressed in what seemed to be a black poncho and matching backpack, He was around his height despite sounding much younger. He frowned at this, a curse for most Japanese having to come over to America.

"Sorry about that," Shoto said in a low tone. "I didn't think it would do that."

Turning around, the boy smiled as his impossibly green eyes bore into Shoto's soul.

"No problem at all, Mister," the teenaged boy said. "After all, accidents happen."

The boy with a sleek and proper British accent surprised Shoto. His young and handsome face seemed to be bright with a friendliness that both soothed Shoto and made him guarded on the spot. His voice wedged between childlike playfullness and smarmy asshole, but his eyes were the most intriguing thing about the boy who seemed to young to be out in the wilderness by himself. Bright and seeming to glow under the purple din that was beginning to fall over the forest, he flashed his pearly teeth right at Shoto.

Shoto wanted to walk away, but there was a strange force that had him glued to his spot like a marble statue. A strange tugging pulsed at his heart, and he wondered if he was having the onset of a stroke. This boy, however, appeared as harmless as they could come, so he decided that he was just being paranoid. After all, if anyone were to stop him in his final mission, he doubted his enemies would get a teenage boy from another country to do it.

"Are you," Shoto looked over the boy and noticed he was in a school uniform of some kind. He could not read the name, but the crest on his cloak and vest underneath had four different colors and animals emblazoned on the ensignia. "Are you lost or something from your group?"

The boy chuckled. "No, we're here for a while. I just decided to go out hiking myself for the day. My group can be quite rowdy at times. I'm Alistair, by the way."

Shoto nodded. "Good day to you. Well, I hope you have a good hike."

Just before Shoto could turn away, Alistair stepped forward and cut Shoto off from the front to stop him from leaving. "Are you headed up the trail to the summit, by the way?"

Shoto blinked and raised an eyebrow. "

"I was wondering if I could join you."

Shoto quirked his head upward and raked his gaze over the boy. "I'd rather hike by myself."

Alistair bounced on the tips of his toes. "It's no big deal. I'd just rather not get lost, and you seem like someone that knows their way around. I was told it's normal to hike with others in America, anyway."

"I really don't know where I'm going. Also, my English doesn't extend much farther than this," Shoto said. "I'm very boring."

"I seriously doubt that," Alistair flashed a small smirk. "Besides, if there are any bears out there, you could scare them off for me."

Shoto put his hands in his pockets and considered the boy. Despite wanting to be by himself, his nerves relaxed and his arms dropped making eye contact with the boy. He seemed harmless as the fern dancing in the quiet breeze next to him and just as docile.

Despite his unassuming nature, there was something off putting about the boy. Not only that, but having someone with him would complicate things quite a bit. It would be tougher to complete his goal of there was a person nearby.

Yet, there was a gleam in the boy's eyes that made Shoto's brain fizz out. Beyond his better judgement, he had a strange pulling at his heart that made him want to bring accompaniment. Was this a quirk of some kind? Some sort of hypnotic power that blended the will of others? Regardless, Shoto sucked in a quick breath. Feeling the pill bottle rattling in his pocket, a cloud of loneliness pressed down on his chest.

If this was truly it for him, he might as well have someone to keep company along the way. After all, he was the number one hero in Japan now. If he couldn't handle himself against a teenage boy without any noticeable quirk, what use did he have?

"I...I guess it would be irresponsible for me if you went alone," Shoto said.

Alistair grinned and grabbed the straps of his backpack. "Great! So are we headed for Heaven's Point?"

Shoto peered behind Alistair at the map. The long red line that marked the trail zigged and zagged to the top of the map where a mountain was shown with an "x" right at the summit.

"Oh, that's the name," Shoto said. "Sure."

With reservations bubbling in his stomach, Shoto turned around and drug his feet over the hard muck of the trailhead. Alistair bobbed next to him with a quiet grin on his face.