HEROES RISE Arc Part 2
The swing creaked as she kept her eyes to the ground. Children ran around playing games yet none paid her any attention.
She didn't mind.
She didn't want anyone to approach her right now.
She felt a ball roll over to her feet causing her to pause in her swings. Bending down, she picked it up. It was a blue rubber ball with fractal like designs in various shades of violet, blue and red. She stood up with the ball in hand and tried to approach the other children who had been playing before.
She tried to do so...
When the other children saw her approach, they too took a step back. Their expressions were a mix of terrified and angry. Seeing their expressions and actions, she stopped and hung her head low.
She tried to hide how she felt but she could feel her face twist into a bitter expression and tears stung and threatened to fall from her eyes.
It had always been like this.
Children her age had always been scared of her. It stung to know that they will never approach her. They were terrified of her...
And they were jealous.
Ever since she could remember, she had always been strong.
She was stronger than other kids.
She was faster than other kids.
She could learn faster than other kids.
Adults had always praised her, saying that she would grow up to do great things. She was better at doing everything than other kids her age and older. While adults may have loved her for her talents, her peers didn't appreciate that she was better than them.
It started with petty jealousy and demanding that she should let them be better than her. She refused though, the budding competetive spirit within her refusing to allow others to surpass her without a fight.
They didn't like it. Then came the bullying.
Her indoor shoes being hidden from her.
Her books and notebooks were thrown into the trash.
Her desk had been vandalized.
Trash had been thrown at her.
They called her names.
They spread rumors.
At first she told the teachers about it and they did try to help her, but all it did was make the other kids more discreet. That was also when they started to push her around. At first it was a simple bump in the hallways.
No problem, she could handle that.
But they began to escalate; trying to trip her in the classroom, food discretely flung to her at lunch in the cafeteria, then, they tried to intimidate her.
That was when she learned that kids can really be cruel.
It was after school one day when some older kids grabbed her and brought her to the back of their gym. They tried to threaten and intimidate her; to bring her down to their level
She had decided that enough was enough. She didn't want to take it all anymore; all the bullying, all the stealing, all the name calling, it was all enough.
So she fought back.
Though she was younger than her would be bullies, she was naturally stronger and faster than them. She was outnumbered five to one but she fought back as best as she could.
Punching, kicking, she beat them back and stood her ground. Against boys that were larger and older she was doing remarkably well. It was also then that her Quirk awakened.
It was a feeling like something was building up within her hands. A slap to the chest of one of the bullies who had raised a fist to punch released a small explosion.
It was a small explosion comparable to a firecracker at most, but it was hot enough to burn through his shirt and skin. The older boy released a cry of pain as he fell on his knees and clutched his burnt chest. A first degree burn at the most, in the shape of a starburst, visible on exposed skin.
The other bullies, shocked and scared, took a step back. They had not received their quirks yet, another thing that she had beaten them to, and looking at the exploding sparkles in her hands, they doubt that even if they did, they doubt that it would even help.
That was the first time she had been called to the Principal's office. After the event came to light, her bullies had been severely punished and she was given a slap on the wrist seeing as what had happened was a consequence of her quirk awakening to a stressful situation.
This did not help her standing with her peers.
Since the teachers are keeping a closer eye on them after they had learned the extent of their bullying, punishing those who were caught harshly, they instead took to ignoring her altogether.
This is how it was today. No one wanted to talk to her. No one wanted to go near her. No one wanted to play with her. She was...
Lonely.
It wasn't her fault that she was stronger than them.
It wasn't her fault that she was faster than them.
It wasn't her fault that she was smarter than them.
They didn't need to hurt her.
Just because her hair was short and she didn't act like the other girls in class and she played like a boy, it didn't mean she wasn't a girl.
Sitting back down on the swing with the ball still in her hands, her head dipped and hair covered her eyes even as frustrated tears ran down her cheeks.
It wasn't fair, she thought. It had been a long time since anyone from her peers spoke to her. This empty feeling in her chest, she wanted it to go away.
Her eyes were scrunched closed as she tried to stop the flow of tears-she didn't want to give her peers the satisfaction of seeing her cry-thus she did not notice the shadow that stopped by her feet.
She startled and opened her eyes when she felt cloth touch the corner of her eyes What she saw was the brightest green she had ever seen. They shone with the light of concern even as he dabbed an All Might themed handkerchief on her cheeks.
"Are you alright?"
His voice was soft and gentle; like the playful winds of spring. He was young, the same age as her, most probably.
Surely, she was surprised. This was the first time someone her age tried to talk to her. She tried to reply but months of social isolation led her to become unsure of what to say. She could only open and close her mouth awkwardly.
The boy took no note of her strange behavior and continued to wipe her cheeks free of tears. In truth, he had seen what happened to the girl in front of him. He had seen how she was isolated, how no one came near her.
How kids their age, would-be-friends, ignored her existence.
He had no idea what it was that caused her to be isolated from her peers, but seeing her teary and frustrated expression, he only knew one thing:
It is never wrong to help people
Her lonely expression, the hunch on her back, somehow he knew that this was not how she was supposed to be. Finished with cleaning her face from tears, he looked into her glimmering red eyes. If no one wanted to help her, then he will.
If no one wants to see the loneliness she feels, then he himself, will save her from such a sad feeling.
They look like mom's rubies, he thought. His hand reached out before her face. He smiled as he took in her puzzled expression.
"Hi! Do you want to be my friend?"
His question surprised her.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
For so long, she had been without a friend as they had abandoned her once they saw that she was better than them; when their envy overrode their promises of friendship. She saw his bright eyes that held no deceit, his genuine smile that told her that he was sincere with his offer.
She held out her hand to his even as she felt her eyes wet with tears once more and her chest aching as if something empty had finally begun to be filled.
"C-can, I r-really?"
She sniffled as the feeling of loss and loneliness began to lift and a fluttery feeling replaced it. It was warm and fuzzy, like a blanket covering and hiding her from the cold.
It felt like hope.
"Sure!"
He grabbed her unsure and hovering hand with his. She could feel the warmth of that hand reach out to her core filling her body with something she could not yet describe.
"My name is Izuku Midoriya! What's yours?"
Sunny green met rainy red.
"Katsumi, Bakugou. Nice to meet you, Icchan."
Forlorn clouds lifted and a smile brighter than the sun lit up on her face.
()
Loud, rambunctious music played from a JBL Boombox on her desk.
The shrieking of guitars, the heavy beat of the drums, the steady thrums of the bass, it all came together into a heady mixture in her head. The aggressive vocals that characterized the Heavy Metal genre overpowered the sound of her breathing as she curled her biceps with dumbbells in hand.
An incessant knock resounded through her door and shouting came through.
"KATSUMI, TURN DOWN YOUR FUCKING MUSIC!"
"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU OLD HAG!" she replied.
Long, spiky, pale blond hair tied into a high ponytail swayed as she finished her exercise. Dropping the heavy dumbbell to her floor, she grabbed the white towel wrapped around her slim neck and wiped the sweat on her oval face.
Cherry pink lips were set in a permanent scowl and crimson eyes narrowed into a glare as Katsumi Bakugou stomped over to her desk and turned her boombox off.
Silence wrapped around her, the only sound being the fluttering of her curtains on an open window in the evening wind.
Katsumi stood in her room in only her black sports bra and navy blue form fitting yoga pants.
There, beside her desk lamp, was an old photograph encased in a heavy brown picture frame.
In it were two young children, both of whom looked like they were four years of age whose backs were facing a small creek and a forest.
One was Katsumi herself who looked so boyish in the picture, carrying a bug net and cage. Her hair was cut short falling only up to her nape. She was wearing beige shorts and a blue shirt and black sneakers covered her feet. Her face was lightened up with pearly whites evident in a wide grin; her eyes-which were already set on a heavy glare, even then-shined with the innocence and purity of a child.
A child who was happy to have been with her best friend.
Frowning lips twitched into a wistful smile; Katsumi herself unaware that her expression softened as she reminisced of times long past. So lost in her memories was she, that she could not remember when she had picked up the picture frame. Katsumi focused on the person beside her in the picture.
He had been a shy child back then, she remembered.
He had wild, curly green hair that was very soft to the touch unlike her own which felt like a hedgehogs quills. Green hair framed a youthful face with chubby cheeks that had four symmetrical freckles and emerald eyes alight with excitement. He was wearing an orange shirt and blue green shorts with red high-top shoes. On his head was a yellow strawhat that blocked the sun's harsh summer glare. One of his arms was wrapped around the younger Katsumi's neck holding his own bug net whilst the other was raised with a cage that held a big, black beetle.
Katsumi traced a finger on his smile even as pain and longing entered her eyes.
"Izuku..." Katsumi felt her heart clench.
... Kacchan!..
"He wouldn't want you to keep holding on like that."
Katsumi whirled around surprised at the sudden words. Behind her, leaning on the opened door, was a woman whose looks were very similar to her's.
Dressed in a simple yellow shirt and thigh length black pencil skirt, Mitsuki Bakugou looked as youthful as her daugther. Her similarly shaded spiky hair was cut short reaching just up to her shoulders, framing an attractive face. Even if she was in her late 30's she still looked like a woman in her 20's; Mitsuki was often mistaken for a college student. Slender arms were crossed under a sizable chest as she looked upon her daughter with sharp eyes.
Katsumi sometimes wondered if she would also grow up to be like her mother.
"It has been almost a decade, Katsumi." a soft look was in Mitsuki's eyes as she looked at the tense form of her daughter.
" ..."
Though she didn't say anything, Katsumi knew. She had, after all, counted the days, the years since then.
Since Izuku went missing.
Katsumi could still remember that day clearly. It was on the day they had taken the picture in her hand. Izuku had left his beetle cage in her living room so she had gone to his home and there she saw...
... Emerald flames burning high...
... The scent of smoke and burnt wood...
... The screams of people that burned equally under the heat of a viridescent disaster...
... Fire spreading as far as the eye could see...
It was the biggest fire disaster that Musutafu had seen. The flames had consumed a total of seven blocks of the residential area costing millions worth of damages and many more priceless lives.
That was the last time Katsumi had seen both her childhood friend and her Auntie Inko.
It was only later she had learned that her Aunt had died in the fire-burned into an unrecognizable mass of charcoaled flesh-and that her friend was nowhere to be found.
It was only after a thorough investigation after the incident that they had learned that this disaster was all started by an argument between Inko and an unknown man. There were also signs of a struggle and Katsumi came to a realization as she heard this after eavesdropping on her parents and police officers...
Her friend had not run away.
He was taken.
"I made a promise."
She said after a minute of silence and deep thought. Her eyes had glinted in sharp resolve.
... I promise I'll find you, Icchan. I'll find you no matter how long it takes...
Mitsuki raised an eyebrow at the hardness of her daugther's tone. She had always known that she kept her promises; that was how she and Masaru had raised her after all. It had already been ten years and day after day, she never saw her daughter, her Katsumi, take a rest from fulfilling that promise. Ten years with no sign of Izuku, Mitsuki and her husband had given up but their daughter still went on.
She was worried that it had become Katsumi's obsession; their family had no good history when it came to obsessions.
Though Mitsuki wanted her daughter to stop, she didn't know how she could tell Katsumi. She saw the blank look in her daughter's eyes when she thought no one was looking. She noticed the awkward pauses in their conversations as her daughter suddenly looks to the side with her words in her throat only to stop when she sees that there was no one there.
Katsumi had never been the same after that incident.
Her daughter broke, and Mitsuki didn't know how to fix her. She could only hope that by letting her find her own conclusions with her investigations, Katsumi could finally put all of this to a close and let it go.
"I see," Mitsuki simply said, turning away from her daughter. Stopping with a hand on the doorframe, she gave one last look at Katsumi, "I just came to tell you that dinner is ready."
Katsumi watched her mother leave quietly. She felt a slight guilt in her chest as she knew what she was doing to her mother-the worries she caused-but she crushed that part of her ruthlessly.
Katsumi knew her mother had already given up, but it was not so easy for her. Her thoughts were plagued with her missing friend. Every day, every hour, every minute, worry brewed in her chest and though she didn't show it, she was slowly losing hope that her friend was still alive.
At this point, Katsumi was just doing this to finally get some closure and to know Izuku's final fate.
And the first step is...
She looked at two pieces of paper that lay innocently on her desk.
One was a copy of her Mock Exam results, and the other was a letter of application.
The recepient?
UA
... "So let's promise!" green eyes looked at her with an excitement that she could not help but return. "We will become heroes! The two of us together, we will be the best hero duo there will ever be!"...
... A pinky was raised as chubby cheeks stretched into a wide smile, "Pinky promise?"...
... "Pinky promise!" he wrapped his own pinky and they shook it up and down...
Katsumi placed the picture back on her desk as she headed for the dining room.
"... Liar..."
It was a whisper heard by none but the wind. Katsumi left, never noticing the single, shining tear that dripped from her eye as precious childhood memories began to flash through her mind.
... I promise I'll find you, Icchan. I'll find you and I'll bring you back home... Dead or alive...
()
"You know, when I saw you two heading for the balcony, this isn't exactly what I was expecting to see."
Hijiri Daijoin was not happy if her twitching brow was any indication. She watched with glaring eyes as her friends fidgeted before her.
One of them, anyway.
The other just stood there with a placid smile on his face as if saying:
'Who, me? I'm an innocent little angel. I did nothing wrong~'
Hijiri's brow twitched even harder.
Momo tried to say something but a glare from her friend made her squeak and go silent.
"When I heard that you two were attending this event, I thought that maybe we could have fun and catch up seeing as we haven't gotten together in some time. All in all, I didn't come to this party just to scold my best friends for excessive public display of affection."
Hijiri Daijoin has known Momo Yaoyorozu and her attendant Izuku Midoriya for the past three years. She has known the two ever since she had transferred during their last year from her previous elementary school in Shizuoka to Musutafu all up to their years in middle school.
She had known them for 3 years since and they have been the best friends she could ever ask for.
They had been there when her only parent, her mother, died.
They had been there when she decided she wanted to be a model.
They had stood behind her and supported her during her journey to become the art and fashion icon that she was today.
They had been there, standing behind her, as she cut the ribbon to her first boutique.
If Hijiri were given a choice to choose between saving 1,000 people and the two of them, she will be the first to admit that she will always choose her two friends with no hesitation. She would rather sacrifice those 1,000 than to let go of her friends; she was just that selfish, she admits.
But she will also be the first to admit that they could be the most annoying people in the world.
Since the first time Hijiri had met the two, there had always been something between them. When she was younger and more innocent, she could only see two very close friends but, now that they were growing up, there was whole new context to their closeness.
Touches that seemed so innocent then, looked to secretive now.
Adorable hugs that they used to share, looked far too intimate.
Though Hijiri knew that there were likely no such things-
(Probably...? Really though, when it comes to them, who knew?)
-with her best friends' interactions, hormones made one look at something differently. She was at that age after all, and nobody said that she herself didn't have fantasies.
Still, innocent or not, Momo and Izuku's interactions made her too uncomfortable; like she was seeing something she wasn't supposed to see.
She felt like she was the third wheel to their group.
Pat
Izuku stood in front of Hijiri and laid a hand on her head. Gently stroking it like one might to a disgruntled cat, he showed her an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Hijiri-chan," Momo moved closer and held her hand with an embarrassed flush. "I know that you don't like seeing us like that."
Hijiri reddened at the close contact. She was a shy girl at heart; even after all these years of having friends that preferred affectionate touches, she really hasn't gotten used to it.
"D-don't think t-that I'll f-forgive you that easily!"
Hijiri relaxed into her friends' touch even as she pouted angrily. She turned her head to hide the fact that her cheeks were burning red, though it was unsuccessful as Momo and Izuku could clearly see the embarrassed flush on their friend's face.
As Izuku enveloped the two girls in his arms-causing Hijiri to blush more-he had to wonder, is this what a tsundere is?
"By the way," Momo sent her a curious glance after the hug ended, yet they never moved far from each other. "What are you doing here, Hijiri-chan?"
With her blush receding, Hijiri faced her friends with her arms under her chest.
"I got an invitation from the Mayor too, after I sold his wife's dress to him."
Fils de Soie, or Silken Threads in English.
It was a boutique that Hijiri opened a year ago when she was twelve. With the help of Momo and her father, Hijiri was able to open her main store in Musutafu. A year later, what was once thought to be a losing company, new to the industry, had become one of the most successful clothing lines in Japan.
Selling clothes for Men and Women, young and old, Prêt-à-Porter or Haute Couture, her store sold clothing and accessories for a wide range of consumers.
Hijiri could attribute her success largely to her thread creation quirk: Silk Strings.
While the name of her quirk may bring about a misconception of what she can really do, Hijiri was not only limited to creating silk threads. Through small spinnerets located under her nails in each finger, Hijiri is able to create any kind of thread once a sample of the thread she wants to create has been ingested. Using her ability, Hijiri was able to weave extremely high quality fabrics that she uses to create the clothes she sells.
Hijiri was given the invitation by the Mayor's wife after she had personally tailored her current evening dress.
"I knew that Momo and her parents would receive an invitation for the ball and that they would most likely attend as they have never missed this event before, so I decided to attend and catch up with you two. The store has finally winded down so everything being much more relaxed helped me make the decision too."
Momo's eyes widened and she buried her friend into her chest with another constricting hug and a small squeel.
Izuku too, was happy. It had been a long time since they had been able to spend time consistently with Hijiri. The opening of the Boutique had been a good thing as it had given her something to do to distract her and make her focus after her mother's death; it helped her move on. With the success of the store, it was hard for them to spend more than an hour together, especially since the store had just gotten off the ground.
"Oh, I'm so happy! We can finally spend more time together! Oh, I know. Why don't we go shopping this weekend? No, how about we go to that new cafe that just opened downtown?"
Momo squeeled as she picked Hijiri up and started to twirl her around like a giant stuff toy.
Considering that Momo was 5"8 tall and Hijiri was rather petite in figure and short standing at 5"4, her doll-like looks notwithstanding, it really did look like a girl with her doll.
Izuku chuckled at the image they generated even as Hijiri tried to pry herself away from Momo's tight arms.
"Oh, I'm happy too," Hijiri's voice was muffled as she tried to pull her face away from Momo's chest. "In fact, I would be happier if you would let me go, Cow Princess!"
The tight grip around her head disappeared and Hijiri immediately pulled herself away and breathed in fresh air.
I almost died!, she thought as black spots disappeared from her vision with the intake of air. Hijiri glared at Momo who had a sheepish expression even as her arms were held up by Izuku who had a deeply amused shine in his otherwise stoic face.
Hijiri glared at Izuku with an angry blush on her face.
"What's so funny, huh, bastard?!"
The amusement only grew even if Izuku's face remained in a stoic smile.
"I don't know what you mean, Daijoin-san?"
You sadistic bastard!
Hijiri always knew that Izuku had hidden sadistic tendencies. His amusement for the misfortunate accidents that occur in front of him, though well hidden from other people, was always so obvious to those that spent a long time with him.
Momo, Mr. and Mrs. Yaoyorozu and herself, for example; they are quite aware that Izuku was closet sadist. For them, it was quite obvious as his eyes sparkle with deep hidden wonder.
"Anyway," Hijiri said as she straightened out the wrinkles on her dress. "Let's catch up."
She smiled at her friends, and this time, there was no annoyance from earlier actions, only the anticipation of spending time with the people she values the most.
()
"-and then she said, 'That thing is Monstrously gigantic!'"
Izuku listened to his mistress and Hijiri's giggles with half an ear as his eyes scanned the various guests in venue. Sipping his sparkling cider, he made various assessments of the people around him as he leaned on a wall a few meters behind his friend and partner; just enough distance to quickly reach them in an emergency.
From the corner of his eyes, Izuku could see Momo and Hijiri trading stories. He could only smile as they had a good time of catching up; laughing, giggling, and gesticulating wildly as they did so.
Resuming his silent vigil, Izuku noticed that Momo's gestures had gathered some attention. Immediately, he began to sort through the attention that his mistress had garnered. Izuku divined their intentions through their body language, their facial expressions, their muscle tension, and the looks in their eyes.
Those with benign curiosity, he left alone, but those with particularly strong intentions-whether they were harmful or not-he committed their faces to memory. He took particular care to memorize the faces of those men and women who looked at his mistress with lustful and cunning looks.
Those were the faces of trouble. These were people who were no longer human but had become monstrosities from what he knew of the history of the few faces he recognized.
Spectacularly stubborn.
Willing to use any means necessary to fulfill their desires.
The greed that could swallow human nature and compassion.
Placing his empty flute on a passing waiter's tray, Izuku allowed his immaculately hidden nature to peek through.
No one is allowed to lay a hand on his Mistress.
No one.
Eyes shadowed by his hair, they seemingly glowed in emerald light. Shadowed windows to the soul shined with bestial, sadistic savagery.
This was a side that only Momo had seen. Not even her parents who had been nothing but kind to him had ever seen this nature of his. His past haunts him, it is one that he cannot escape or forget.
He could remember being sold by someone.
It was someone he hated, he could recognize.
He could remember most of the things that happened after that-spotty though they were-but everything before being sold like cattle, it was blank.
All he could remember was his name: Izuku Midoriya.
It had not left him untouched as Izuku had forgotten everything in his life before his hateful sperm donor sold him for a small amount of change. He had even forgotten what he was like before.
His personality had been wiped clean.
His morals, remade anew.
One can even say that Izuku Midoriya was born on that day among the stink of unwashed and abused children and amoral men and women.
With such a repulsive environment and the harsh teachings his Owners gave him, is it any wonder that he had reverted mostly to animal instincts and jungle savagery?
To Kill or be Killed?
The weight and intent of his gaze settled on disgusting leeches that dare think to touch his mistress-
(MINE!, his mind whispered. Ethereal chains echoing in the hollow space of his mind as it struggled to hold back and to leash something that was meant to stay in the darkness. Primal growls and sounds that would terrify man, born from the horrors of their mind agreed with him)
-crushing their wills with the sheer weight of his gaze.
Already he could see the worms paling. Some vomited over their precious fineries and some even soiled themselves; their shame evident over the cries of surprise, shock and disgust of the other guests.
Snatching another flute of drink from a passing waiter, Izuku hid hid his vicious smirk behind the act of drinking what, he now knew, was supposed to be champagne and not the non-alcoholic version. He could feel his lady's questioning gaze even as he continued to avoid looking in her direction.
Something she must have deduced if her suddenly burning glare digging into his temples was anything to go by. He avoided looking into her eyes, knowing that if he were to even glimpse at her appearance, he would fold faster than a stack of wet cards.
It was lucky that he was facing the windows that he was able to see it.
It was luck that allowed him to recognize it; painted matte black it was invisible in the night sky and he was only able to see it when it passed through the window skylight.
He recognized that shape.
He recognized that object.
It was a Tear Gas Grenade.
Synapses firing.
Heart rate, rising.
Muscles tensing.
Time Froze Still.
Without hesitation, Izuku ran towards Momo and Hijiri. His form wasn't even a blur to the people who saw him move; for those without perception enhancing quirks, his speed was akin to teleportation.
Izuku grabbed Momo and Hijiri by their waste before running to the far end of the hall. He checked the other windows and saw other near-invisible shapes soaring through the air. Arriving at the far end of the hall, Izuku reached into one of the many hidden pockets of his suit-A Butler is always prepared!-and pulled out three miniature rebreathers the size of a match box. He shoved them into his charges' mouths and pressed a button in its side and it expanded into a transparent and durable full-sized gas mask. Once he was sure that they were secure he put on his own mask and rebreather before looking back to the frozen guests.
What he had done, was not even two seconds in the Unaccelerated World. His synapses slowed from within his head as he began to perceive the normal flow of time.
"TEAR GAS!"
Time unfroze as his voice reverberated all around the extravagant hall. Then, two things happened simultaneously: the windows shattered and the panicked screams of the privileged resounded.
Gas canisters landed on marbled floors as they began to expel their contents to fill the spacious room with their malicious mists.
Highly pressurized white smoke flew out from tiny openings as they quickly covered the entirety of the room. Guests and staff alike fell to the floor wheezing, rasping-feeling like their lungs were given out from how they were choking. Eyes were sealed shut as they released tears and mucus ran down from clogged noses.
They never even realized when 50 men all clad in black and grey military fatigues entered as they waved and pointed their guns in various directions. They were shouting in a foreign language while they kicked people off the ground and led them all to one area.
As the white fog began to slowly disperse, Izuku gathered his silent and horrified friends to his arms as he sped up and escaped. His ever-present polite smile was nowhere to be seen and instead his face was an intimidating, emotionless mask.
He had seen enough.
The Sir was right to have him in the party.
Enemies were abound once more targeting his mistress, and this time, they were no longer in the shadows.
()
1st Lt. Yuri Petrov languidly took a drag on his cigarette; the warmth of the nicotine filled smoke filling his lungs staved off the cold of the early fall winds that came in through the broken window. Grey, aged strands of hair ruffled as he passed a black gloved hand through his scalp.
A black portable heater was in front of him chasing away remnants of the cold that the warmth filling his body could not. Thinned lips were hidden from view by steepled hands while his elbows rested on his knees.
He was currently sitting on a wooden stool in an abandoned apartment complex in Musutafu.
He ignored his subordinates as they were busily preparing their gear. Some were doing a pre-operation check on their guns, some were checking on their supplies, and some spent some time communicating with their teammates.
Yuri Petrov was a man of 49 years and he had experienced a lot of things in his life. His youthful silver hair had gone gray with age and his skin exposed the hard lines he had gained from many stressful situations. His eyes had been jaded and his heart had been hardened by all that he had gone through. Yuri's grim facade lent an air of austerity around him which had both earned him the respect and fear of his platoon. Black and gray combat fatigues hid a well forged body that had gone through plenty of battles and similarly colored boots snugly fit his feet.
Yuri's mind was focused on the mission he was given by their employer. He went back to that folder given to him almost a week ago containing the details of their mission.
Yuri was a veteran mercenary of the равновесие company and had done many things for both the company and their employers. He had killed, he had assassinated key figures both bad and good alike, he had even led a defense from a villain incursion while the heroes fought back as best as they could in his country of origin.
But...
This was the first time he had been called to kidnap a High-Profile Target. This was a job more for those who were quicker and quieter on their feet. Yuri himself was more of a hammer; he was the person to call if you wanted something gone as explosively as possible.
... And not just any High-Profile Target, it was the heiress of the Yaoyorozu herself.
... "They don't care about her condition, all they ask for is to bring her back alive." his superior informed him in an apathetic tone. The man who was even older than Yuri was staring at him with an uncaring eye as he flipped through the folder given to him.
"The client doesn't care what you do to get her. All they require are three things: the heiress of the Yaoyorozu alive, to leave a message that we have their daughter and for you to do it as quietly as you can. After that, maim her, rape her, it's all up to you." His superior waved his hand in a dismissive gesture as he went back to the papers on his desk...
There was something suspicious about this mission, Yuri could feel it. There was something foul smelling in the air and he knew that he could trust his instincts to warn him about it; he had left more doomed battles alive this way than those unlucky others.
He trusted his gut above all else and it was telling him of a danger he could not see.
"Sir."
Brought out of his rumination, Yuri turned towards his SIC.
Standing to his left was a young man in his 30's. Dressed in the same military fatigues and combat boots, he was a man with a white face and reddish brown, cropped hair. What was unusual about him was that behind his square rimmed glasses, his eyes were pure white with a black sclera.
His disturbing, ever-present smirk and the swaying leathery black tail with a long, bony tip behind him lent him the image of a devil.
His name is Alek Smirnov.
"Everything is ready; all inventories have been accounted for."
"Good," Yuri replied, his voice rough and deep.
As he stood up, revealing his great height of 7"2, one of his subordinates approached him with an object in hand.
The man with non-descript features handed his superior what seemed to be a large device shaped into a backpack. It was entirely metallic covered in segmented lines that separated its surface into different panels. There were two shallow dips on its surface, a larger one on the top and a smaller one near the bottom. Its straps were made with a tough, kevlar-like material that was shaped like a harness; it was meant to securely wrap around his torso.
Yuri took his device without a word and worn it over his back and strapped it to his chest.
"Have the men ready in five," He moved towards the exit without looking back. "I want this done before tonight. The faster we get this done, the faster we can escape this country with the hostage in tow without the heroes responding in time."
Hearing Yuri's words, Alek smirked a bit wider as his inhuman eyes narrowed. His appearance became even more devilish in the plain faced subordinates mind.
"Sir, yes sir!"
They snapped into a sharp salute and immediately went to complete their tasks.
It didn't take even 3 minutes before all the men were accounted for and they entered their assigned vehicles. They were large, gray vans capable of seating 10-12 people. Yuri and his platoon usually employed black transportation in missions but it would be very suspicious for multiple black vans or standard military HMMWV's were to head to the same location at night or be seen by civilians.
Once they had loaded into the vans, they immediately drove off into the night, splitting into different groups as they took different routes to their destination.
Yuri wanted this operation to be smooth.
He wanted this fast.
He wanted this easy.
Yuri Petrov was more than aware that plans never survive first contact but he still hoped that this would go as best as it could be. His ride was the first to arrive to their destination while his subordinates arrived at different, random times. This was something he decided to do to minimize the risk of suspicion.
Yuri studied the large party hall off the distance. He looked for the best entrances and escape routes he could use and compared them to the blueprint of the venue he had acquired.
Yuri already had a plan in place, but he kept on running them over and over in his mind.
It looked easy enough.
It looked like there will be no complications with this mission. That was what the reality of the situation told him, but...
Once more, his stomach and chest burned with unease, and this time, he couldn't keep the feeling in his chest away from his face.
"1st Lt. Petrov?"
Alek, who had been beside him the entire time, noticed the expression on his superior's face. He had never seen Yuri with anything but an austere facade; seeing him with a furrowed brow was as rare as the blue moon, but now that Yuri had a face that could only be called as anxious... Alek couldn't help but feel worried as well.
"Alek," Yuri didn't look at his SIC as he was still focused on the venue. "What do you think about this mission?"
"I believe that this would be a simple smash-and-grab operation, sir."
Alek didn't know what was plaguing Yuri's mind but he wanted to ease the worry he was feeling. Alek had been under Yuri's leadership for almost a decade and had been his SIC for the past 5 years.
To Alek who had never known companionship due to his disconcerting appearance, Yuri had become his mentor, role model, and father-figure.
"Is there something wrong?"
Yuri gave a noncommital hum at the question.
"Nothing, nothing," he said. Turning away from the sight of their target, he walked towards to his subordinates who had been preparing a temporary base of communications.
"It's just my gut burning."
It was a whisper. Softer than rustling cloth, it should have been covered by the noisy leaves of the woodland they were hiding in.
As though it was by divine intervention, the wind carried that whisper into Alek's ears.
The cold hand of Death brushed its finger unto his spine
Alek was well-aware of what those words meant. Once, he had heard Yuri say that on a mission involving a villain raid with Russia's top heroes and had suggested that they refrain from storming what they had assumed to be the villains' hideout. They had been hunting them for weeks and they thought that the villains had been cornered when they retreated to an old abandoned textile factory with what appeared to have no defenses or defendable positions. A newly debuting hero who had joined the operation had gotten cocky and had rushed off without consideration with their companions.
Alek could still remember as he and the other tried to pull him back but the cocky little shit just laughed at them.
He could still remember as the rookie's hand wrapped around the doorknob.
He could still see, with vivid clarity, as the rookie's expression changed from smug, to bewildered, to outright terrified.
Alek could still remember as he tried to reach the kid when suddenly the door blew up-throwing those who had pursued him away with the resulting shockwave.
The rookie, Crimson Commando, had not survived.
More and more examples where Yuri had noticed something vital others had dismissed or had ignored that led towards their death or survival began to be more evident to him following the earlier incident.
Sometimes, during their platoon's free time, it had been jokingly speculated that the 1st Lt.'s instincts had been his quirk, but no, Alek knew it wasn't even if his subordinates certainly thougtht so.
He had seen Yuri's quirk in action after all.
No, his leader's animalistic instincts were just that sharp.
And now, just as they were supposed to complete their mission, Yuri had whispered those words once more.
Alek wanted to question Yuri what his instincts were telling him. He contemplated abandoning the mission as surely, it was better to have their men survive, as usually Yuri only said those words in truly dangerous situations but no, his commander had not given the command to retreat and abandon their task. The Liuetenant must have wanted to continue the mission.
Alek would follow Yuri's lead if that was the case.
Heading back to the completed communications tent, Alek mentally went over his inventory and condition. It would not do if he were caught with his pants down.
()
She watched as the soldiers prepared to move out.
She watched as they put on their masks and headgear.
She watched as they began to navigate the woodlands and surrounded the venue.
She watched and listened as they communicated with one another.
She watched as they synchronized with the others.
She watched as they pulled out canisters from their packs.
She watched as they simultaneously threw their loads.
She watched as they stormed the party hall.
She watched as they dragged the privileged by their hairs, arms or legs.
She watched them all right beside the mercenaries. They never even noticed her presence.
She watched with an intense, teary gaze as a young man in a stylish Three-piece charcoal colored suit run off with two teenaged girls in his arms.
She watched as he threw their masks away as they escaped through the gardens unnoticed.
She watched as the young man abruptly turned-likely sensing her gaze-and stared at her exact position. She knew that he would see nothing.
... Not in his current state.
She watched as he stared at her for a few more seconds, sending heart into a crescendo, before taking his two charges in his arms once more and fleeing.
She watched his rapidly disappearing back as she touched her flat stomach right below her navel; feeling the hot throbbing sensation of a faint scar.
She watched, and watched even as he disappeared from her sight; giving a wide smile that fully displayed her pearlescent teeth.
If one were to see her, they would have been frozen-horrified at the sheer intensity at her display of emotion.
Her wide smile, her blushing cheeks and panting breath, she was the very picture of Obsession.
"I finally found you... My Dragon... "