A/N: Okay—Warning time. Some more heavy topics coming up. Once again, I don't get super graphic, but I do touch upon the topics in the TW.
TW: References alluding to rape, threats of rape
Denki lost track of how many checkpoints they had to go through before finally making it to the point where they could exit the truck. To be fair to himself, though, his attention was divided between trying to memorize the layout of the turns (which was intended to be confusing specifically for people like him who are good at that sort of thing) and sending various comments and light-hearted jabs in Full Throttle's direction to try to keep up appearances that he was probably Toga without giving a definitive answer one way or another.
"Do you think if we're in the middle of fucking when they open the doors, they'll let their guard down enough for us to escape?" Denki asked, his internal scheming mixing with his attempts to be more like Toga resulting in the question escaping before he could think better of it.
Too much! He knew it was too much.
How was Toga so good at mimicking other people? Denki was observant, sure, but Toga's skills went above and beyond that, Denki was realizing.
Full Throttle's eyes traveled over Denki's form. "I'll pass."
Denki scoffed. "Is it because of your girlfriend? I'm sure she'll understand!"
"Phantasm is my sister," Full Throttle said, and Denki couldn't say he was surprised. "And I'm sure you'll have your work cut out for you once you can't hold that form anymore, so you might want to save your energy."
Denki eyed Full Throttle warily, pressing his shoulder blades against the cool metal of the truck. "What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, come on," Full Throttle drawled. "I'm sure you've heard at least the general rumors. It's even worse for the female prisoners."
Denki visibly deflated, incredibly relieved that it was him instead of Toga. He knew about the rumors, of course, but it said something when someone who lived under a rock as much as Full Throttle did knew about them as well.
The harsh clang of metal against metal was heard from the back of the truck as the guards prepared to unload their newest prisoners.
Full Throttle leaned forward and harshly whispered, "if I were you, I'd hold onto that form as long as humanly possible, no matter what they try to threaten or bribe you with. They won't give you another chance to use your quirk. Understand?"
Denki nodded, and then there were guards shoving him out of the truck so harshly that he didn't have time to hop out on his own. He fell from the drop and landed on his side on the concrete, his hands still restrained behind him. If he hadn't had extensive training and practice with his reflexes when it came to falling, he could have really gotten hurt. He wondered how many prisoners got broken bones and concussions in their first seconds of arriving.
He glanced over at Full Throttle and was relieved that he seemed to be okay, too, even though he was receiving similar treatment.
Denki had extensive hero training to help him, but he wondered how Full Throttle was faring so well in such harsh circumstances. He was staying so calm, and even giving sound advice to someone who he saw as an adversary. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend, Denki figured.
"You're in for a real treat," the guard leered in Denki's ear as he was hoisted roughly to his feet and shoved forward.
Denki doubted he was getting any donuts.
Denki was strip searched. That was nothing new, and he knew what to expect from his experience on Unit Beta. This time, though, it was two female guards who performed the search. Until that moment, Denki didn't realize how much power heroes really held in the field. Just Neito and Hitoshi vouching for one Denki over another over a single answer to a simple question made everyone move full speed ahead with no hesitancy or second guessing that the heroes might be mistaken (or maliciously incorrect).
Denki was given different clothes to change into. They were soft with age and wear, and Denki couldn't tell if they were supposed to be black, navy blue, or really dark purple, but it was a faded dark mauve color by the time they were given to him.
"If you just drop your quirk, we can give you clothes that actually fit you so they don't fall off of you when you do change back," one of the guards offered.
"That would be great and all," Denki said with a shrug, "but I'm actually just me. You've got the wrong guy… girl? Person. You've got the wrong person."
"Suit yourself. Don't come crying to us when your pants fall right off of you in the middle of the mess hall."
The guards paused as if Denki would magically transform into Toga, but Denki just grabbed the offered clothes, put them on, and stood at attention, ready to follow them to his next destination.
"Her funeral," one guard had muttered to the other as they started to lead him away.
The light above the metal door changed from red to green, and there was an audible click of the door unlocking. The guard slid the door open, gave Denki a nudge inside, and closed the door behind him.
Denki's heart raced as he looked around the room.
Blood rushed from his head and core to his extremities to prepare him to fight or run as he took in the sight of the room full of villains, and he came to the realization of why exactly they would shove him in a room full of menacing male prisoners if they really thought he was Toga.
"There she is!" a burly man said, standing up from the table where a few of the larger men were playing cards. "We've been waiting for you! Aren't you gon' turn back for us?"
Denki dropped down into a balanced stance to lower his center of gravity, but quickly realized that there was no way to fight his way out of this, and decided to back away instead, holding his hands up.
"Fellas!" he tried. "I—"
The man rushed him, pinning him up against the wall with a loud slam, a big, tattooed hand pressing tightly over Denki's mouth. It took a second for Denki to realize that the loud noise came from the man's forearm hitting the wall at the same time and not himself.
Denki fought back the bile rising in his throat as he tried to think of a plan, but what could he do in that situation? He didn't have his quirk. And even if he could win against this one, there were so many more. Even if he could win against all of them, he was still locked in that damn room. He had never felt so trapped.
The man towered over him, his dark indigo hair seeming like a halo around his head from the lights behind. Denki's vision was filled with him. He couldn't see the others in that moment, but he could hear them. As he heard the men taunting, jeering, and hollering, he hoped that his lack of transformation into Toga would hold them off.
The man ducked his head down and Denki winced when his breath hit his ear.
"Listen carefully," the man whispered.
And Denki did.
Because this wasn't the voice he had heard before. It wasn't leering. It wasn't threatening. It was urgent, and almost pleading.
"We know you're Toga. You have to believe that the last thing we want to do is piss of the League of Villains, yeah? If the guards aren't satisfied that we thoroughly messed you up, they'll take it upon themselves to do the job right, and you might not make it out of that alive. Do you understand?"
Denki nodded, then reached up and pried the hand off of his mouth, just enough to quietly whisper back, "but I'm not Toga. I'm really Chargebolt. Kaminari Denki."
The man pulled back and eyed Denki, surprised. There was no lull in the noise that the other men were making, and Denki realized that they weren't even paying attention to them but focused on covering up any sign of the conversation that the big man was trying to have with their intended victim.
They were being monitored.
Denki's eyes traveled around, but he couldn't see any cameras or recording devices. Then he realized that's why the man was crowding him in like that—so that the cameras couldn't pick up on Denki's reactions when they tried to explain to him what was going on and his few shitty options to pick from.
"I don't know how long you can hold that form, but you'll have to drop it eventually, and—"
"I'm not Toga. I'm really Chargebolt," he insisted.
"Chargebolt?" the man asked, hopeful trepidation in his eyes.
Denki nodded. "Can you tell me more about what happens in here?"
The man stood up straight, threw his head back, and laughed. The room had gone silent. Everyone who had been pretending to be leering and speaking loudly about what they were going to do to Toga as soon as she turned back were looking in their direction, stricken and confused about the change in plan on the fly.
"Care to play some poker?" the man asked, gesturing toward the table that he had been at before Denki arrived.
"Only if you care to lose," Denki quipped, already gliding over to take a seat.
Once the ambient noise from the men participating in various activities around the room picked up again, the discreet comments went from table to table until everyone knew that the newcomer was claiming to actually be Pro Hero Chargebolt and not Toga in disguise.
And once again, Denki was impressed. Heroes had to know everything the second there was something to know. Villains, though, could bide their time and allow the information to come to them at the best time instead of charging forth and demanding to know. If it was a room full of heroes, the guards would have been swarming the room, already knowing that something was going on by the hushed whispers and glances in Denki's direction. But because they were villains who grew up differently than most, who had different experiences to fall back on than most, the guards were probably just confused as to how Toga convinced all the convicts to play cards with her instead of the nefarious acts they had originally been planning.
"Is it always like that for the female inmates?" Denki asked as he drew another card and looked consideringly across the table.
"Yeah," the man to his right answered easily, not giving anything away for any guards who might be monitoring the cameras.
"Luckily there aren't many who are notorious enough to warrant being sent here," the one to Denki's left added as he threw some more poker chips in the center of the table. "Raise."
"We've gotten good at making it look convincing enough. Make enough rips in the clothes in the right places…"
"Grab a little too tightly to leave some bruises…"
"Have her fight back. It won't look realistic if we don't come out of it without any scratches or bruises ourselves."
"Then we all just align ourselves where the cameras can't exactly tell for sure what's going on, and we just make them believe they're seeing what they want to see."
"But why?" Denki asked.
"They're cruel bastards. Plus, it gives them more ammo against us if we were to ever find evidence to prove our innocence, or at least lessen our sentences."
"But, hey. Now that the people's hero is here, maybe things are going to start changing for the better."
Denki did a double take. "I'm sorry. What? The people's…"
"Chargebolt: The people's hero. That's what the underground circuit is calling you."
"I heard that you saved Razor during a building collapse! Word is that you helped him even after you realized he was a villain. That's cool shit, Chargebolt."
"Not to mention that everyone knows that the League of Villains is looking out for you."
"Everyone?" Denki repeated warily.
"All the villains," the man corrected. "The heroes don't know, and they won't be finding out. Lest we face the wrath of the League of Villains," he said in a faux creepy voice, wiggling fingers and all. Still, the mention of getting on the League's bad side made the men around the table look uneasy.
When the door opened to reveal a long line of guards, the inmates lined up, and Denki followed their lead.
"Let us know if you need anything else. We'll spread the word that you're not to be messed with. You won't have to worry about the other prisoners."
"Thanks," Denki said, trying to convey his appreciation through his voice because he had nothing else to offer. "I have a feeling I'll need all the help I can get."
"Damn," the guard who grabbed Denki said as he took in Denki's intact appearance. "They found out you're Toga, didn't they? Bunch of fuckin' scaredy cats. Just you wait, honey. When you turn back, I'll show you that you're not as on top of the world as you think you are."
"Are you going to hold your breath?" Denki sassed.
The guard shoved him forward toward his cell—his new home for the next five hundred years if the Hero Public Safety Commission had anything to say about it.