"Is it better to be loved or feared? I say – Is it too much to ask for both?"

Despite his youthful age, being no older than 12, Izuku Midoriya cut a commanding figure as he swept his gaze across the audience.

"With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Midoriya Industries Hama Ya Line."

He gestured to the slender missile mounted on a firing rack and a number of curious eyes turned to examine it.

"It is the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary intelligent targeting and antimatter payload technology." He quirked an eyebrow. "You will love it, because of what it can do for you." He placed his hands together. "And you will fear it because of what it can do to you." He paused. "It's best to have both, for love prompts the question 'how will my loyalty be rewarded?' but fear prompts the question 'how will my disloyalty be punished?' My answer?" He gestured to the rack and it hummed as it angled the missile to the sky. "Like this."

A brief whine built before the missile roared forth on a cone of burning gas, arcing over the sea before its tip split apart, revealing an octuplet of identical warheads. Each one darted forth on its own stream of ignited propellant, separating from the mother projectile and twisting its way through the air until it found its own target: a meter-thick gate to a command bunker.

"For your consideration," Izuku spread his arms. "the Orochi."

Eight pinpricks of light detonated into miniature suns, casting a realm of terrible shadows before being blotted out a moment later by a choking storm of debris that rose into the sky. A shockwave raced across the sea, distorting the surface before slamming into them a moment later. Safe as they were due to the distance, it still knocked the air from Izuku's lungs and blew the hats off of the assembled military personnel. Dust puffed into the air and turned the world a hazy amber before slowly settling back onto the ground.

The boy patted himself off and turned to watch the results of his work.

The artificial island which had been their target, one that had been hardened and fortified to the point where it could take a close-range nuclear detonation and still remain intact, was now nothing more than a thin film of grey covering the section of ocean where it once stood.

Eyes turned to the technicians as they received feedback from the sensor dummies they had placed in the eight bunkers embedded in the installation. Shaking heads were the only response they received, indicating that every single dummy on the island and in the bunkers had been subject to lethal force one way or another.

In other words, it was complete annihilation, of the island itself and every living being that might have inhabited it.

Izuku turned to his audience with a small smile on his face. "If you would like to discuss supply contracts, please feel free to book time in my calendar." The small crowd of foreign generals, mercenary commanders, and Japanese officials returned his gaze briefly before breaking it to turn to their compatriots and discussing the spectacle with hushed whispers. He casually stepped away from the chatters and made his way to one of the waiting helicopters that would be his transport off the island.

A quiet buzz alerted him to a call.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he tapped his acceptance on the screen and the face of Midoriya Industries' CEO, Akira Mitsuhide, stared back at him.

"Izu!" The black-haired man waved.

"Mitsuhide." Izuku nodded. "You're up early."

The man shrugged his slender shoulders. "Couldn't sleep until I found out how it went. So, how'd it go?"

Midoriya smiled. "It went great. I think I'll have to clear my schedule for the next few weeks just to deal with all the purchasing negotiations."

"Nice work Midoriya-kun." Akira gave him a thumbs up but a ping on the line indicated the man had another caller waiting. "Stay safe on the way home. I'll see you tomorrow alright?"

Izuku nodded. "Don't work yourself too hard in the meantime."

Mitsuhide merely chuckled before the call ended and the boy tucked away the phone into his pocket.

"Midoriya-san." Heavy footsteps accompanied the calling of his name and Izuku turned around to see First Lieutenant Makoto Enatsu, his primary military liaison within the Japanese Self Defense Force.

The two of them had met during their time together at the University of Tokyo, sharing a number of requisite electrical engineering courses that they took at the same time. They had gotten along swimmingly, in no small part due to how Makoto treated Izuku like an actual equal despite the Lieutenant being ten years his elder.

Izuku bowed his head, briefly but respectfully. "First Lieutenant, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Impressive work out there." Enatsu nodded, his face the exemplar of professional interest. Decorum had to be observed on occasions like these, though Izuku knew him well enough to spot the grin tugging at his lips. "I expect you and I will have a lot to discuss soon."

"Of course, my channels are always open to you." Said Izuku.

Enatsu nodded again. "Good. Go on ahead. There are still some things I need to take care of. I'll see you back at base."

The boy stepped into the helicopter and allowed himself to be strapped in by the attending soldiers. The sharp beats of the aircraft's blades intensified as they lifted off and fell in line with the convoy transporting them back to the mainland.

Izuku adjusted himself in his seat, getting comfortable, or as comfortable as he could, for the long ride back. Pulling out his phone, he connected his headset to it and set to picking out a suitable song. Perhaps something soothing would be-

The craft shook and he looked up, then around to search for the source of the disturbance. Gazing out of a window, he spotted the flaming wreck of a helicopter careening down before it left his field of view. He looked back to the soldiers around him roaring orders at one another. The steady beats of the rotor blades were joined by that of the helicopter's automated turrets firing back at whoever their assailant was. Thinking quickly, he set the audio of his headset to receive and tuned into the frequency the convoy was using.

"-ntact! Contact! Arrow one is down! Arrow six is down! No eyes on hostiles! Requesting immediate-"

The world shook violently and turned into a spinning blur.

He squeezed his eyes shut and grasped on to the edge of his seat for dear life as they plummeted from the skies. He felt his stomach had jumped up to his heart by the time he could feel the emergency retro-thrusters kicking in, reorientating the helicopter and allowing it to come to a relatively safe stop atop the ocean's surface.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he winced as he opened his eyes and saw his escorts carefully taking positions by the doors. One of the soldiers quickly unstrapped him from his seat and gently, but firmly, pushed him against the ground. Izuku did his best to remain there as they worked to assess their environment and attempt to call for backup, but shaking heads indicated that their communications were jammed. He took out his own phone, which had miraculously remained within his pocket some how, and tried his own connection-

An explosion tore into the aircraft, throwing a number of soldiers to the floor, before the sharp report of gunfire preceded the tortured shriek of metal as the fuselage was riddled with bullets. Blood splattered the ground as rounds tore into flesh and Izuku rapidly scrambled backwards, desperately working to open the door on the opposite side of the helicopter.

Just as he prepared to slide it to the side, a dull thump drew his attention up and he saw a mortar shell – proudly sporting the Midoriya Industries logo – protruding from the metal. He threw himself backwards as it detonated, the force of which slammed him against the wall and set his ears ringing as he struggled to pick himself up. His arms wobbled for a moment before they gave out and he settled for rolling over to alleviate some of the mounting pressure on his chest.

When it didn't abate, he quickly undid his life jacket and ripped open his shirt, feeling for the body armor he had been wearing beneath it. His fingers came away wet and he raised it to his eyes. Judging from the redness, it wasn't water, but blood.

He coughed and felt sharp spikes of pain tear through his chest. Each breath he took made the next one more difficult and he struggled to draw in enough air to remain awake, but his vision began to darken and the last thing he saw was a shadowy blur settling over him.

Pain.

Pain.

Such terrible pain.

It was numbed but he could still feel it. How they were digging into his flesh and sewing it back up.

He could hear himself screaming, he could feel the hands on his arms and legs holding him down. His body shook in agony and his cries weakened into muffled sobs.

Something, something cold was placed into his chest. It twisted and excruciating pain pulsed through his body.

Another twist and he screamed.

Then, nothing.

The next time he awoke, it was to the sound of someone speaking in a language he wasn't familiar with. A dull ache pounded a steady beat in his skull and his mouth felt as dry as dust. Each breath he took made him acutely aware of how sore his body was and how much his chest ached. Counting to three, he slowly opened his eyes.

Light soaked through the rough fabric of the bag they had covered his head with before it was pulled away a moment later. He was left blinking blearily as his sight slowly adjusted to the brightness and he realized he was looking straight into a camera. He could also see what looked like the barrel of a rifle pointed at his temple in his peripheral vision and so he cautiously glanced around the room using his eyes, careful not to move his head.

The only exit he could see was directly behind the camera man with the exit itself flanked by two men wielding rifles and covered in body armor. Their faces were hidden beneath balaclavas and their eyes were covered by goggles. His attention was, however, drawn to the weapons they sported.

The MI-8 Modular Assault Rifle was the latest in Midoriya Industries' Kiyomeru rifle line, sporting a number of bleeding edge features in terms of firing mechanisms, material durability, and integrated targeting systems. The patented modular hardpoints allowed for parts and accessories to be swapped on the fly, letting users rapidly adapt to the situation as it changed. It could turn from a lightweight personal defense weapon into a large calibre antimateriel rifle or even a fixed gun emplacement depending on the scenario. Given the risk of a model falling into the wrong hands, the weapons themselves were actively tracked and had only been sent to select members of various organizations that had intimate ties with both Japan and Midoriya Industries as a whole.

The fact that two of them were currently in the hands of some rebel group holding him hostage indicated that either something had gone disastrously wrong with the company's internal weapons tracking systems or that someone was double dealing under the table.

Before he had the chance to consider it further however, the bag was roughly pulled back down over his head and he filed it away as something to think about later. Stout arms looped under his own, yanking him to his feet and marching him across the room. He couldn't see or hear much, but he could feel the directions he was being led in. There was a brief moment where he could feel cold wind and he made a note in the back of his mind to remember it.

He could hear a set of doors being opened, metal scraping against stone, before the grip his captors had on him was relinquished and he was shoved inside. The bag was plucked off his head and the doors slammed shut a moment later.

Izuku was left staring up into the face of a man he found vaguely familiar but couldn't quite place.

Grey hair streaked with white. Brown eyes narrowed in focus. Lips pressed into a thin line that opened a moment later.

"Midoriya-kun, you should take a seat."

Despite his surprise at hearing Japanese, he nodded and looked around, finding a chair nearby and pulling it closer before gingerly sitting down on it.

As soon as he was comfortable, the man was in front of him, carefully checking his pulse, examining his eyes, and scanning him over.

"How do you feel? Any nausea, dizziness, aches?"

Izuku shook his head. "No. No, I feel fine. A little tired, and I'm chest feels tight, but that's about it."

"Good." The man breathed a sigh of relief, moving back out of the boy's personal space. "If you feel anything off though, let me know."

He nodded and wrapped his arms around himself before taking another look at the man before him. "How do you know my name?"

"Aside from your fame, we met once, a number of years back, at an award ceremony in Geneva. Do you remember?"

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows. "The one for Médecins Sans Frontières? You're a doctor then?"

He nodded. "Yes. I was receiving a commendation for my work in Sudan."

"Hiram Eshmun, emergency trauma surgeon, right?"

The man had a bemused look on his face. "That's right. Well, technically chief trauma surgeon now. Still, I guess the rumors I've heard about your memory are true after all."

Izuku didn't share his levity. "Where am I?"

"Somewhere in the Kamchatka peninsula by my guess. They got me while I was on a mission in the Kuril Islands. I wasn't out for long, so we can't be that far away."

The boy scanned the room. It was very spacious, if sparse. There were two bedrolls on the ground. A low table. A small firepit in the center of the room with a vent positioned over it to clear away the fumes was their main cooking method as well as their source of heat. Security cameras stuck out from the walls, their red lights winking at them. He would have to be careful with what he talked about. There was no telling whether or not his captors knew Japanese and were just pretending not to understand it. He turned his attention back to Eshmun. "Then I assume that was Russian they were speaking?"

"Mostly, along with some Hungarian and Mongolian."

Izuku thought back to the soldiers escorting him. "Did they bring anyone else in?"

"Not that I know of." Eshmun shook his head.

He understood the implication of that but refused to dwell on it.

"How-" Izuku winced then clutched at his chest. He started when he realized there was something hard, blocky, and humming in the center of it. He opened his shirt, carefully feeling underneath the bandages that covered his chest before tracing the shape of a circular device embedded into his chest. He pulled the gauze away and was met with the sight of some complicated mechanism in his sternum, its smooth humming occasionally interspersed with sharp crackles that heralded the pangs of agony that would work their way through his body.

He looked back up at Eshmun. "What is this?"

The man sighed. "That is an electromagnet I put into you to keep you alive. When they brought you to me, you weren't exactly in great shape. I assume you were hit by a fragmentation shell at just outside the lethal range, so your insides were a mess. I did my best to remove all the shrapnel I could but there were some pieces I couldn't safely reach with the tools I had. Those that remain are releasing heavy metals into your body. Fortunately, they seem to bind to the iron molecules in your blood, so as long as there's a sufficient magnetic force keeping them in one place, the concentration won't build up in your vital organs enough to kill you. It's not perfect since that thing was never meant to be an implant, so I apologize for any glitches you're feeling."

"What about chelation therapy?"

Eshmun shook his head. "It doesn't work. Not for the specific combination of metals that you were exposed to." The man rubbed his face. "I would know. I've seen many wounds like yours in the places I worked. We used to call them the walking dead, because it takes about a week for lethal concentrations to build up in the brain and spinal cord."

"And the power source?"

The man gestured to one of his legs and Izuku looked to where he was pointing. A thick cable ran to a set of batteries strapped around his thigh. "That needs to be switched out every ten hours. You're fortunate that battery tech has become something of a recent interest, otherwise you'd be lugging around a car battery everywhere you go."

Izuku couldn't say he felt very lucky at the moment but he'd take what he could get. "And who are they? The ones that brought us here."

"They call themselves the Nine Circles. They-"

A series of loud knocks drew their attention to the metal doors.

"They're coming." Eshmun grabbed his arm, his expression deadly serious. "Stand up. Do I as do."

The doctor stood up straight and raised his arms, placing his hands back behind his head, eyes cast down. Izuku followed suit, focusing on the patch of ground a few meters in front of him as the sound of stomping boots drew closer.

Someone barked an order and he saw Eshmun looking up, so he followed likewise.

Eight impassive goggles stared back at them with the only exception being a short-haired man with a thick beard that had a vicious smile on his face.

"Добро пожаловать, Изуку Мидория." His voice was a low, booming purr that set Izuku on edge. "Кровавый принц. Ребенок жнеца. Самый известный торговец смертью в истории Японии."

The man nodded to Eshmun, prompting him to translate.

"He says 'Welcome, Izuku Midoriya. The bloody prince. The reaper's child. The son of the most renowned merchant of death in the history of Japan.'"

"Для меня большая честь ваше присутствие." The man gave a small, mocking bow.

"'I am honored by your presence.'"

"Я знаю, у вас должно быть много вопросов, но сначала сделка:" The man spread his arms. "вы сделаете мне ракету «Орочи», и я освобожу вас. Ты согласен?"

"He says 'I know you must have many questions, but first, a deal: you build me the Orochi missile, and I will set you free. Do you agree?'"

Izuku closed his eyes. He wasn't stupid enough to think they would fulfill their end of the bargain, but accepting, or at least pretending to accept the deal, would be his best chance at escaping.

He nodded.

The man flashed a gleaming smile, his flawless white teeth a stark contrast to the pallid grey that dominated the caves around them. "Замечательный. Составьте список необходимых материалов, и я доставлю их и настрою для вас завтра." He retrieved a sheaf of papers and a pencil from one of his men, setting them down on the table nearby.

"'Wonderful. Make a list of materials you need and I will have them delivered and set up for you tomorrow.'"

"Я принесу тебе твою еду." He turned to one of his men and said something inaudible. Turning back to the two of them, the man nodded. "А пока, пожалуйста, отдохните как следует."

"'I will have your meals brought to you. Please rest well in the meantime.'"

With that, they left, closing the doors shut behind them with a sharp thunk of metal.

Izuku released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding and let his arms drop back down to his sides. Eshmun did likewise and turned to him.

"Are you alright?"

The boy rubbed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. I'm going to get started on writing down what I need. I'll let you know when you can translate them."

Eshmun nodded, taking a seat by the fire while Izuku sat down at the table, placing the lead to paper and beginning to write. Despite the myriad of words that flowed onto the page, there was only one thought running through his mind:

How do I escape?


Author's Note: I literally could not get this idea out of my head so I decided to make it a story. As a heads up, there's going to be a lot of deviation from how the movies go if you haven't noticed that already.

For example, since I have to keep him around canon age, I don't think I could write him as a womanizing playboy without getting arrested several times over.

And given his current age and attitude, which are somewhat in line with canon, his development is going to head in a different direction. Think Syndrome without the sociopathy.

He will not be getting any quirks or anything resembling quirks until much, much later in the story. They will however, be a point of intense focus. Our boy's not going to sit idly by when the possibility of integrating them into his tech is floating around.

Lemme know what ya'll think.

Fun tidbits:

Hama Ya literally translates to 'Evil-Destroying Arrow'.

Kiyomeru translates to 'purify'.

Orochi refers to Yamata-no-Orochi, the eight-headed serpent beheaded by the storm god Susanoo.