He called his father. It was the only thing that he could think to do.

"Where the hell are you Izuku?" A car door slammed in the background. "You think this crap is funny-"

"It worked, dad."

Izuku hadn't been sure what he would say, but the words had formed and spilled from his lips before he could stop himself. He'd expected...something else, anything else. He knew he should be panicking, should be hurting, but he actually felt numb, and that numbness calmed him substantially.

Was it shock? Or was it something else?

He ignored Melissa eying him shrewdly as he listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. Eventually his father broke it.

"How?"

"It was an experiment." Izuku answered, moving his cell phone around as he pulled his shirt back on.

"What did you do?"

"I survived. Like Melissa."

"You survived?! What do you mean you 'survived'?" Hisashi's tone went cold.

"Exactly that. It worked dad." He let it sink in. Hisashi clearly understood because he stayed quiet. He was listening. He was mildly surprised that Hisashi seemed more interested in his experiment that Izuku's actual health, but he shrugged it off.

Maybe Hisashi felt the same strange detachment that Izuku himself felt? It was like everything was real, but nothing mattered.

"Tell me what happened." Hisashi pressed, losing his patience.

Izuku gazed around the room. At the table, the straps, the machines that had once hummed but now appeared to have burned out, fuses blown. At Melissa, who was smiling widely at him and gave a cheery wave. The room was dark, but he could see her clearly.

"Where are you?" he snapped when Izuku remained silent.

"Your lab," He said. "We were-" The pain came out of nowhere. His pulse quickened, and the air thrummed with lightning and Izuku doubled over. Lightning crackled over him, through him, lit up his skin and his bones and every inch of muscle between.

"You were what?" He demanded.

Izuku clutched at the table, biting back a scream. The pain was incredible, as if every muscle in his body had cramped. It almost felt like he was being electrocuted all over again.

Was this a flashback? Residual pain? He could hear Melissa shouting something, but he couldn't hear it over the ringing in his own ears.

This is my power, he growled to himself, and it will NOT hurt me. He pictured the lightning as a switch in his mind, and snapped it off, and then the lightning, and the pain was gone.

His pulse dropped, the air thinned, and the pain vanished, Izuku was left gasping, dazed as Melissa helped him up.

When had he fallen? He wondered as she held the phone up to his ear to talk.

Hisashi was practically shouting. "Look," He was saying, "Just stay there. I don't know what you two have done, but stay there. You hear me? Don't move."

And Izuku might have even listened and stayed there, if he hadn't heard the double-click.

The landline in Hisashi's apartment had been provided to him. It made a faint double-click whenever it was lifted from its spot on the wall. Now as Hisashi spoke to him on his cell and told him to stay put, and as Melissa helped Izuku finish dressing, he could just make out the double click in the background. He frowned. A double click, followed by three taps.

9-1-1?

"Don't move," Hisashi said again. "I'll be right there."

Izuku nodded carefully, grateful for how easy it was to lie when he didn't have to look Hisashi in the face.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll be here." And then he hung up.

"We need to leave," He told Melissa as soon as he hung up, throwing the phone into the dark room. This room was a mess. He and Melissa took sanitary wipes and cleaned the bars on the table.

"We shouldn't wipe down everything in the room," Melissa suddenly said, stopping Izuku from doing just that. "Then it will look like we murdered someone or something suspicious happened."

Izuku paused, considering her point. No matter how careful they had been, they were probably records that they had been there.

They needed to clean up.

They needed to wipe everything.

They needed to clear cameras.

They needed time.

Izuku and Melissa left the lab, and then they ran.

Izuku was not feeling so great.

He definitely felt he'd died. Again. His hands ached from gripping the handles on the table, and he wondered if any bones were broken. Every muscle in his body groaned and his head hurt so much he thought he might be sick. He was lucky that Melissa was with him.

He leaned against her when the sidewalk began to tip, and they half stumbled until Izuku felt up to walking again. Nothing felt amazing.

Nothing felt heavenly. He tipped his head back and laughed. A cough of a laugh, an amazed exhale.

Even if there had been anyone else in the area aside from Melissa, none would have heard it over the sirens.

The two squad cars screeched to a stop in front of him, and Izuku hardly had time to process their arrival before he was thrown to the concrete, cuffed, and a black hood thrust over his head. He felt himself being shoved into the backseat of the cop car. A similar sound next to him informed him that, with his best guess, Melissa was going through something similar to his own experience.

The hood was...interesting but Izuku did not like any aspect of his situation. The car would turn, and his weight would shift, and without any cues or way to know what was going on, Izuku would topple over.

He wondered if they were purposely taking turns purposely fast.

It was at this point that Izuku realized that he could react. Fight back without seeing them. He could end this. But he refrained.

It seemed unnecessarily dangerous to hurt the cops while they were driving. Just because he could. And on that vein, he wasn't sure if Melissa could survive a car crash, while he was positive that he himself could not.

So Izuku focused his attention on staying calm. Which was again, too easy, given all that had happened. The calm troubled him. And it fascinated him. If he had more time, he'd have to study that…

The car turned hard, slamming him against the door, and Izuku swore, cursing his bruises. The cuffs dug into his wrists and he hissed as white hot pain tore through his wrists and he hissed when he felt something warm and wet run down his fingers.

Finally the car stopped, the door opened and a pair of hands guided him out.

"Can you take the hood off?" He asked into the darkness. "Don't you have to read me rights? I'm a minor too...am I missing something?"

The person guiding him said nothing, nudging him to the right and his shoulder clipped a wall. Were these guys even police? He heard a door open, and felt a slight change in the sounds of the space.

A chair screeched back and someone pushed Izuku down into it, uncuffed one of his hands and rebuffed them both to a place on a metal table. Footsteps faded, and were gone.

A door closed.

A door opened. Footsteps drew closer. And then the hood came off. The room was very very bright, and a man sat down across from him, broad shouldered, black haired, and unamused.

Izuku looked around at the interrogation room, which was smaller than he imagined, and to be honest, a bit shabbier. It was also locked from the outside. Any actions in here would be useless.

"Mr. Midoriya, my name is Detective Hutch."

"I thought those hoods were only used for spies and terrorists and bad movies, is it because I'm foreign?" Izuku asked, referring to the pile of black fabric now sitting between them. "Where's Melissa?"

"Our officers are trained to use their judgement in order to protect themselves." Hutch answered.

"And am I a threat?"

Hutch sighed. "Do you know what a trigger is, Mr. Midoriya?"

He felt his pulse quicken at the strange shift in conversation, and felt the air buzzing softly around him, but swallowed, and willed himself to find his calm. He nodded slightly. "Of course."

"And do you know what happens when someone who is quirkless, has a 'trigger'?"

Izuku shook his head. "Every time someone makes a 911 call and uses that word, I have to get out of bed and come all the way up here to check things out. Doesn't matter if the call's a prank or the ravings of a homeless man. I have to take it seriously.

Izuku furrowed his brow. "Sorry, someone wasted your time sir,"

Hutch rubbed his eyes. "Did they, Mr. Midoriya?"

Izuku gave a tight laugh. "My dad called you didn't he?" -of course he did- "Did he also tell you that he sent me to the hospital not even three days prior by forcing me to drink alcohol and numerous drugs?"

Hutch's face tightened. "He did not."

Izuku watched a drop of blood fall from the cuffs to the table. "It's public record. Look it up."

Now he had to sell it. "I went to the labs," The security cameras would show that much. "I needed to get away. I didn't want to be at home, and Melissa offered me company and…"

"You didn't call anyone?"

"The hospital released me back into his custody...who would I call?"

"Mr. Midoriya neglected to mention any of that," Hutch informed him, making a note. He frowned, finished writing, and tossed the pen aside.

"This is insane," Izuku said. "We didn't do anything, and I'm quirkless! So is Melissa! That's also public record by the way."

Hutch looked at his watch. "We'll have to keep you both overnight in a holding cell," He explained. "Meanwhile, I'll send someone over to see your father, and to the hospital to verify your statements. If, in the morning, we have proof that your father's testimony is compromised, we'll let you go. That's the best I can do right now. Sound good?"

No. Not at all. But Izuku would make do. The hood stayed off as an officer led him to the cell and the way he made careful note of the number of cops and the number of doors and the time it took to reach the holding area.

Izuku had always been a problem solver. His problems had certainly been growing bigger, but the rules still held. The steps to solving a problem, from elementary math to breaking out of a police station, remained the same. A simple matter of understanding the problem, and selecting the best solution.

Izuku was now in a cell. The cell was small and square and came complete with bars and a man who was more than twice his age and smelled like tobacco. A guard sat at the end of a hallway reading the paper.

The most obvious solution was to kill the cellmate, call the guard over, and to kill the guard. But that would make him a villain. The alternative was to wait until morning and have all of the true information that he had given them be verified, and hope against hope that Hisashi's lab didn't have cameras IN the lab. He also did not know where Melissa was, or what she had said.

Picking the best solution really depended on your definition of best. Izuku examined the man slumped against the cot, and got to work.

Hisashi wanted to care. He wanted to care so badly, but there was this gap between what he felt and what he wanted to feel, a space where something important had been carved out. And it was growing.

He'd done what he needed to do. If he hadn't had Izuku arrested, then he would have no choice but to report him.

And if that happened...well, Hisashi would just have to assure that it wouldn't.

Hisashi walked to his car, and threw it into gear. He needed to get to the Medical buildings as fast as possible. He needed to find the professor.

Hisashi strode through the automatic doors and into the lobby of the three clustered buildings reserved for medical sciences, an empty backpack slung on one shoulder. The lobby of the center lab had been painted an awful yellow. He wasn't sure why they insisted on painting labs such sickly shades-but the color made the place seem more lifeless than ever.

Hisashi kept his head down as he made his way up two flights of stairs, until he reached the office where he'd spent most of his free time to date. The Professor's nameplate hung on the door, the letters gleaming. He tried the handle. It was locked. He searched his pockets for something to use on the lock, and came up with a paper clip.

After Melissa had successfully gained a quirk, Hisashi had taken their findings to the Professor, who had gone from sceptical to intrigued as more and more evidence piled in. Hisashi had enjoyed getting the Professor's attention, but it was nothing compared to the relish that he had felt earning her respect.

His research, now their research, had taken on a new focus under her guidance, reinterpreting their data, into a potential system for finding quirkless. A kind of search matrix. At least, that had been the focus until Izuku showed up and suggested that they could potentially give the quirkless quirks.

Hisashi had never shared this idea with the Professor. He hadn't had the chance. After Izuku's failed attempt, and Melissa's success, he had been too preoccupied and then after that he hadn't wanted to share.

He had watched her curiosity sharpen into fascination in a way that Hisashi knew well. Certainly well enough to distrust it.

Now he was glad he'd kept the information to himself. In less than a week, their research had changed the course of two lives and who knows what would happen from this point. Even though the dark turn and the ensuing destruction would both be Izuku's fault, his actions had revealed the truth of their discoveries and where they would inevitably lead. And now, Hisashi knew exactly what he had to do.

"Can I help you?"

Hisashi looked up from his lock picking, which hadn't been going well, to find a janitor leaning on a broom, eyes flicking from Hisashi to his straightened paper clip. He forced a casual laugh and stood up.

"I hope so. God, I'm such an idiot. I left a folder in Darnell's office. She's my coworker. I need it to finish our thesis." He was talking too fast, the way actors did on tv when they wanted people to pick up on the fact that they were lying. His hands were slick. He paused, forcing himself to breath. "Have you seen her, by the way?"

Inhale. Exhale. "I can wait around a little bit." Inhale. Exhale. "Be the first rest I've had in a way." He stopped and waited to see if the janitor would buy the story.

After a long moment, the man pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

"I haven't seen her yet, but she should be in soon. And in the future," he offered as he turned away, "It's two paper clips."

Hisashi smiled with genuine relief, waved his thanks, and went inside, urging the door closed with a click. He let out a low sigh and got to work. They kept their research stored in two places. The first was in a blue folder in the third drawer of the wall cabinet, which Hisashi removed and slid into his backpack. The second was in the computer.

He dismantled Professor Darnell's computer in the simplest, most fail safe way he knew how: by physically removing the hard drive and burning to a crisp. He'd have to hope that she hadn't thought to store a copy of their research anywhere else.

Hisashi zipped the bag closed, and did his best to position the computer so that first glance it didn't appear to be missing a hard drive at all. He had just shouldered the bag and returned to the hall and was in the process of trying to relock Professor Darnell's door when he heard a cough and turned to find the professor herself barring his pathe, coffee in one hand, briefcase in the other. They considered each other, Hisashi's hand resting on the doorknob.

"Good morning, Mr. Midoriya."

"I'm withdrawing my research." Hisashi said immediately.

Darnell's brow crinkled. "We can't."

Hisashi shifted his bag and pushed past her. "I don't care."

"Hisashi," She continued, following. "What's this about? What's going on?"

They were alone in the hall. Hisashi spoke, but didn't slow his pace. "It has to stop," he said under his breath. "Right now. It was a mistake."

"We can't. We're just getting started," Said Professor Darnell. Hisashi shoved the door to the stairwell open and stepped into the landing, Darnell trailing behind him. "The discoveries you've made," She started, "The ones we'll make...they'll save us."

Hisashi turned on her. "No, it won't." He said. "We can't pursue this. Where does it lead? Where does it end? We make it possible to find the quirkless, and then what? They get taken, examined, dissected, explained and someone decides to stop studying and start creating."

His stomach twisted. Izuku. It would happen like that. It HAD happened like that.

"Would that be so bad?" asked Darnell. "To get rid of the quirkless like that?"

"It's wrong," Hisashi snapped. "All of these roads lead to ruin and I won't be party to it.

"Don't be dramatic."

"It's over. I'm done." Hisashi's grip tightened on the bag. Darnell's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not," she said, her hand coming to rest on Hisashi's shoulder, fingers curling around the backpack strap. "We have an obligation, and I for one, do not one to be killed for failing in the task set for me. Stop being so selflish."

Darnell gave a sharp tug on the bag, but Hisashi stood his ground and before he knew what was happening, the two were fighting over the backpack. Hisashi shoved Darnell off him and up against the railing and then without considering it, Hisashi gave the woman a sharp shove backwards, down the stairs. She gave a short cry, and then was cut off sharply by the first of several thuds as her body tumbled down the steps. She hit the bottom with a crack.

Hisashi stared down at the body, willing himself to feel horrified. He didn't. There it was again, that gap between what he knew he should feel and what he did, mocking him as he looked down at Darnell.

It couldn't be helped. The damage was done. "I didn't want it to end this way." He found himself saying as he descended the steps. "But it works. But it's also wrong." He stopped at the base of the stairs beside his friend, his colleague. "Do you see?"

He knelt beside the woman, whose fingers twitched. "I can't let anyone see what's been done to Izuku. What he's become. He'll be safer that way."

Hisashi knew what he had to do, felt it with a strange and comforting certainty. He brought one hand almost gently under her jaw, the other cradling her chin. "This research dies with us."

With that, he twisted sharply.

"Well," he amended softly. "With you"

With his deed done, he made his way back up the stairs, pausing a moment to consider the body, bent, neck broken in a way that would look believable considering the fall. The coffee had tumbled with her, and left a trail down the steps, the shattered cup next the shattered body.

Hisashi had been careful not to step in the liquid. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and retrieved his backpack from the landing, but couldn't bring himself to leave. Instead he stood there, waiting, waiting for the sense of horror, the nausea, the guilt, to come up to meet him. But it never came. There was only quiet.

And then, a bell rang through the building, taking the quiet with it, and Hisashi was left with only a body and the sudden urge to run.