CHAPTER THREE: REALITY CHECK

'I'm sure you think this is one of those great stories with a picture-perfect happy ending. A story where the great and mighty heroes rise up to persevere through the adversity, fighting against all odds to triumph over villainy. Over evil itself.

For a while, I believed that to be our story. "To be a great hero, you have to never give up hope." That's what my idol and mentor once told me.

Sadly, that isn't our story. At least I don't think so anymore. I really don't know what makes it worse; the fact we had put so much hope on Hero Society and their capabilities back then, or that it took us so long to grasp how seemingly fruitless our efforts would be...

Regardless, not all hope is lost. Not yet, anyhow...'

Buu stirred awake. When punch-man hit him with the heavy metal pole, he had been hammered silly straight into a downed vehicle. The heap of metal then proceeded to explode, and his mangled body ended up strewn across its melting engine bay and the cracked road like a blown up egg.

He laid there for some time, his consciousness scattered and lessened through the thousands of rivulets that made him himself. Usually, such an attack would not take Buu down. Something was still wrong inside Buu. Everything around him moved fast, and he felt like he was sleepily wading through heavy water.

The annoying people appeared to be scared of his power regardless, but they had yet to see anything.

That sad, tired feeling was lessening, but it emphasized that overbearingly hollow sensation in his core; something he had felt ever since he awakened in the crater earlier with little to no recollection of what had happened before. No matter how hard he tried to reach for the broken strands of arcane power he wielded for countless millennia, they appeared to willfully evade his grasp.

No matter—it was almost imperceptible, but they got closer to his reach with every passing moment.

Maybe once he ate something and took a nap he'd feel better. With those pleasant thoughts as his driving force, Buu focused everything into pulling himself back together. His body complied, albeit slower than usual. The fire ravaging him hurt, and it did more damage than many other elements that were used against him. However, in the end, it mattered little; his body could handle it. It always did.

Gaining the upper hand against the constant burn damage, the Majin's tissue pulled itself together faster, regenerating every single bit lost to the blaze. After a few seconds, the heat became bearable and then insignificant, his body regaining its humanoid features. First came the legs, then the arms, and finally the facial features and clothing.

Good as new, Buu's furrowed eyes locked onto the three retreating people ruining his day. They would pay...

Gunhead swallowed the literal lump in his throat. "We're going to need some serious backup..."

The impossibly resilient creature grunted, its reforming body straightening itself back up like a possessed contortionist through the molten steel. Regaining its physical features, it proceeded to force its flesh to spit out the dozens of charred nail-like bullets Gunhead had pumped at its bloated body earlier. Its skin bore no signs of burns, bruising or blood whatsoever—even as it stood over the open flames.

What kind of ridiculous Quirk was this?! It was vaguely familiar to the one used by that petty D-Rank Sludge Villain that had been smashed into submission by All Might not too long ago, but much more formidable.

Buu's mouth curled downward as he regarded the three men eyeing him warily from a safe distance. "Buu tired of you! Buu make you go away now!" He proclaimed loudly.

"Damn it," The Battle Hero hissed out; their full regeneration took significantly less time than what he had anticipated. So far, he had only produced four more heavy shots for his gauntlet.

He engaged his communicator, setting it into the wideband frequency as he raised his functional arm towards Buu. "Attention Hero Network! This is Gunhead. We are in serious need of backup and heavy firepower now! GPS coordinates attached!"

Things were looking up, though. A glance at the map showed reinforcements were almost here; Edgeshot and Kamui Woods were closing in and Hawks was less than a minute—

Buu slapped his meaty fists loudly against his chest like an ireful pink gorilla, his mouth deforming as he stretched it wide open into an O-shape to take in the deepest breath so far. His gut inflated like a blood-gorged mosquito, and he only stopped when even his cheeks had taken in as much air as they could.

Truly, it would have been a borderline hilarious scene if it weren't for the dreadful tingling at the back of their necks forewarning them of impending doom; a feeling which gripped the youngest of the three heroes with an unyielding force.

"G-Gunhead, wh-what do we do-" Flare stuttered, his thought processes completely halting as he watched the behemoth heal with inhuman ease, his ominous bloating now being the final nail in the coffin. His voice was low and uncertain, and he felt like his boots were stuck to the ground, every muscle in his body was suddenly frozen and numb.

Flare looked like a deer caught in the headlights... shit. He had to do something!

Gunhead felt the adrenaline surge through his veins, empowering his limbs and muscles. Time slowed down to a crawl as he dashed towards the frozen Lighting Hero, his pleading words urging him to move out of the way falling to deaf ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Death Arms reacting to the threat, his long legs carrying him away from the behemoth's impending attack.

Their radio buzzed, and a familiar voice rang through. He was too distracted to understand what was said or identify them. He spared a tense glance at the Villain; the distended pink creature appeared to be just about to pop at the seams, its cheeks twitching furiously as it struggled to keep the collected air within.

Based on its body language, Gunhead was mentally bracing for a powerful gale of wind to batter them. But if that was it, why did his body react so brashly as if it were a true threat to their lives? Why was he instinctively running towards Flare in an attempt to save him?

The answer to his question came forth quickly, and it was mind-numbingly terrifying.

With an ear-splitting scream, the man—no, the monster—had not only unleashed a wave of hurricane-force winds...he also unleashed death itself. Gunhead's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed an angry tunnel-like vortex of white and rosy energy erupt out of the giant's ever-expanding mouth, lancing out towards them and the middle of the street like a truck-sized bullet.

Towards an unmoving Flare. His eyes widened with pure dread as he willed his legs to propel him faster. Faster...faster!

An acute and extreme spike in air pressure made his eardrums nearly burst, throwing off his balance as what felt like a thousand needles were stabbed into his skull at once. Waves of heat and wind buffeted his body as he stubbornly tried to remain upright, an arm outstretched towards Flare's paralyzed form. Head spinning as his senses got scrambled further, he fell to his knees.

The slimmer Lighting Hero was no match for the walloping wind and he was flung back with ease, his head bouncing hard against the asphalt. Tears were flowing freely now as the rookie tried to groggily drag himself away from certain death, his body growing brighter and brighter as the whirling wave of light was nearly upon him.

Flare raised his gauntlets, pulling himself together just enough to mount a hasty offense. He poured every drop of his Quirk into his shaky arms as he fired his Photon Blasts at speeds which Gunhead had never seen before, his face twisted into a distressed and ireful snarl. The lenses flashed like strobe lights until they started to spew steam, the attacks simply being absorbed by the oncoming attack.

Unable to handle the continuous strain, the gauntlets exploded into a shower of broken glass and metal. As a final act of desperation, Flare smashed a closed fist against his chest emblem, raising a last-resort emergency barrier as the wall of light was within arm's reach. Aquamarine energy coalesced as a protective bubble around him—

—just in time for the massive wave to hit him head-on.

Time slowed down further. Gunhead saw Flare's body flicker; his suit's barrier and ablative coating failing in an instant with a distressing pop. The youth's frightened brown eyes met his own for one last time as what remained of his body dispersed through the ocean of white and pink light surging through the street, his final screams of despair going unheard through the roaring of the raw energy he had become one with.

Letting out a heartbroken scream of his own, the Battle Hero had no time to mourn before he was hit by the ensuing superheated shockwave, his body going limp and airborne as he crashed through the glass doors of a grocery store like a streaking fireball.

His trek did not stop there, for his momentum was plenty and there were many aisles and shelves in his path. Gunhead barely felt the pain as he punched right through each of them, food and miscellaneous items splattering everywhere in the process. Once he smashed through the last row, his body finally came to rest within a commercial refrigerator, the impact kicking every drop of air out of his burning lungs.

Through the chaos erupting around him, he was able to feel the unsettling but familiar crack of bones and organs likely rupturing as he partially crumbled onto the unforgiving floor, his ears still struck with the shrill scream erupting out of the creature's oversized mouth, his foggy mind frozen on the very moment Flare ceased to be.

Every inch of his skin was coated in liquid fire, and his tactical mind could only assume he had just been flash-burned with at least second-degree burns; the stink of smoke and burning meat left no doubt of it. The only reprieve he had at the moment was that a good portion of the stored ice-cold beverages had exploded over him upon impact, quickly dousing off the remaining flames licking at his vest and skin, lessening his misery somewhat. He could at least breathe through ragged breaths now.

Both his legs and arms were unresponsive, and he could feel his surroundings shaking themselves apart. He forced every bit of his willpower to crack a single swollen eye open. Above him, the damaged refrigerator teetered and wobbled with the tremors, its shape looming closer and closer to him until the last harness holding it up snapped. As it collapsed on him, everything went dark.

Death Arms was lucky enough to be out of the direct path of the blast, but his luck had run out the moment the ensuing expansive wave of inconceivable heat surged over his exposed body. Unlike his fellow hero, he had not landed within the protective enclosure of a building when the thermal shockwave hit him. He screamed like he hadn't before, and he did not stop until the surge of searing hell assaulting his skin fried his nerves to the point he felt nothing more. He was mildly aware of the large chunks of rubble and hot metal falling upon him as he felt his consciousness begin to drift away with the relentless pain.

Around the fallen heroes, the disconcerting and surreal sound of buildings, roads and the very street itself being torn asunder resonated across the city, with tremor alarms going off through many wards. Many cries of anguish and pain went unheard as innocent lives were vanquished in an instant, the beam showing no signs of slowing as it tore through the ward with little resistance.

The helicopter filming from above broke away as fast as it could, but it was unable to make it out unscathed. A mixture of shrapnel and wind shear tore off most of the rear rotor blades, and it started to spin out of control and out of sight, the trail of smoke disappearing over a building as they frantically sent out a radio SOS.

It might have felt like an eternity, but in reality, the chaos only lasted seconds. As abruptly as it started it came to an end, leaving only the dreadful sounds of falling debris, burning fires and the wind howling eerily through the desolate remains.

Buu stared in baffled confusion at the sputtering puffs of smoke and dying pink sparks coming off his mouth. His eyes then trailed the deep gouge spreading perhaps a good mile down the road. Every building, car or city structure in its path had been obliterated, the surface glowing cherry-red and spewing steam as they cooled down.

Halfway through his blast, his power flickered away into nothing, leaving only the leftover blast of air and heat in his belly to finish the deed. It made him feel so tired he found himself yawning again and again. What was wrong with Buu?!

Nonetheless, he was quite pleased with the result; he couldn't see punch-man, stick-man or gun-man anywhere after he sent them bye-bye. Inspecting his surroundings for a final time, he found little of interest to keep him there. This place had grown boring and not fun. He could not smell anything tasty nearby, and no one was bothering him anymore.

Buu shrugged with indifference, willing the few wisps of energy he could channel to take him aloft. In the distance—way beyond the damage he just caused—he could see many flashing red, blue and white lights approaching. Many many loud screaming sirens too. So many feet moving closer. He didn't feel like playing with them now. Maybe later when he felt better.

Coating his body in a wave of flaring and unstable ki, Buu launched himself at supersonic speeds upwards and away, his breakage of the speed barrier being instantaneous and sending one final thunderous boom through the wasted portion of the ward. The few buildings that had barely survived the earthquake-like shaking crumbled upon themselves as the Majin became a pinprick in the firmament.

A familiar and rather famous winged silhouette shot across the sky.

Pulling his crimson wings behind his body to improve his angle of attack and gain more speed, a smirking Hawks head-dived towards the smoking buildings just ahead. He had a penchant for arriving in style and in the nick of time, and this time it would be no different. As bad as things sounded, he was certain everything was fine.

Those three could handle most perps with ease—they probably just didn't want to do all the hard work. Oh well, that meant more screen time for him. He couldn't wait to antagonize Flashlight—Hawk's favorite nickname for Flare—the rookie had a hard time dealing with his antics.

Waving at the news helicopter lazily circling the scene, he then turned to regard the heroes out of sight not too far from him, flashing a cocky smirk as he did. "Sorry for being late to the party, fellas!" He hollered enthusiastically through the direct links to their radio—

—huh, how odd.

Between the tall building outlines and narrow alleys, he noticed a few shimmering rays of light peeking through. Raising a brow behind his mask, the Wing Hero halted his descent to cautiously examine the strange event from afar, his Quirk-enhanced senses going haywire as the atmospheric pressure plummeted, only to rise just as abruptly as it dropped, and then keep rising to abnormal and downright painful levels.

Hawks hissed, raising his hands to his ears protectively as they rang and ached something fierce. This wasn't good. A change so drastic in pressure could only mean an exp—

Boom. The Wing Hero's thoughts and concerns were both interrupted and confirmed by a white and roseate surge of light tunneling through the street like a battering ram. The main overpressure wave then became visible as a cloudy ring, exploding outwards with enough force to send Hawks plummeting. "Holy shit!"

Thankfully for him, he had enough altitude to recover from the stall. Feeling uneasy flying in the gale-force winds, he dropped onto the closest rooftop. Upon touching down, his body seized up with growing apprehension and distress upon noticing two things:

First, the tunnel of destructive light had grown bright enough to briefly blind him while it tore through every obstacle in its way as if they were made out of mere tissue paper, their materials simply withering upwards like ash being cast aside to the wind. Second, a rarely heard and dire alarm went off in his phone as the destruction reached a crescendo.

Squinting while looking down at his device, his heart stopped. Flare's ID and GPS tracker disappeared in the blink of an eye. Not just low on a signal, it was gone. Death Arm's transmitter then flickered on and off. Gunhead's was active, and much farther to the other two. Nevertheless, each was broadcasting an emergency alarm of their own.

"Mayday-mayday! We've lost steering! Please, someone, help!" A panicked voice rang through the radio.

Shit. The helicopter was about to crash!

He tried to take off and render assistance, but it was impossible to stay aloft due to the turbulent tempest threatening to damage his wings. He had only climbed a few meters before he had to drop and dodge an influx of shrapnel, followed by a massive airborne broken billboard sign that almost cleaved him in half. A flurry of well-aimed razor-sharp feathers tore apart the remaining projectiles heading his way into harmless bits.

When the mile-long beam of destruction faltered and dissipated abruptly, Hawks thanked whatever deity was on their side for the small blessing. Taking off to the skies again, he was able to finally grasp the true breadth of damage the ward had taken. He was struck speechless as a sickening feeling settled deep in his stomach.

Dwellings and multi-story buildings of all shapes and sizes had collapsed or simply lost a portion of their mass as if a laser had shot right through them and outright vaporized them. Smaller buildings had simply ceased to exist as if they had been scooped for the whole span. If the reality of the situation hadn't hit him before, it sure did now.

Countless people just died.

His head swiveled to the last GPS coordinates broadcast by his fellow Pro Heroes, where the culprit of this horror likely was. Beyond that, he could see the smoky trail from the crash-landing helicopter. He sighed in relief when he noticed it was safely secured off the side of a five-story apartment complex up by a thick blanket of wooden limbs; Kamui Woods had it under control.

Pushing his wings to their limits, he flew at neck break speeds towards the GPS waypoint, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he kept re-checking the status of Flare and Death Arms.

The former was still offline.

Nearing the epicenter of the damage, he had to pull back to an abrupt hover, apprehension swelling in his chest once he noticed the upward movement of something—no, someone.

Slowly rising through the fires and wreckage, a massive, plump, pink-skinned and purple caped stranger regarded their surroundings, completely oblivious to Hawk's presence above. They appeared to have previously stood at the starting point of the wide swath of carnage, smoke still spewing off their pudgy mouth as if they had chomped on a mouthful of burning coals.

They weren't flying either—they were floating. No wings were present whatsoever.

Just as the Wing Hero had recovered from the surprise and was about to charge forward, the bizarre-looking man—or whatever it was—coated themselves in a tumultuous layer of flaming white light. Raising their chubby arms up and forward like a faux superhero, their shape suddenly blurred away as they let out a gleeful giggle, their body accelerating to mindnumbing speeds in less than a second.

They were so fast the seemingly random action unleashed a thunderous sonic boom, and Hawks found himself struggling to remain aloft once more as he fought the fierce gusts of wind it generated.

Below him, he could hear more buildings crumbling apart.

Was this a nightmare?

It must be a nightmare.

Hundreds of emergency personnel surrounded the extremely large and unforeseen disaster zone. Fire engines and EMTs from nearby wards had been called upon to assist, and thousands of gallons of water were being pumped into the countless blazes that were darkening a portion of Musutafu's skyline. Backdraft was pushing his Quirk to its very limits as he tried to manipulate every drop of spare water available from broken water mains and firetrucks into the wreckage.

A large assemblage of rescue-oriented specialists was on the scene; from Power Loader to Uwabami and even The Wild, Wild Pussycats, who had been in town in preparation for the upcoming U.A. training camp over the summer break.

With their combined assistance, Hawks had been able to recover a grievously wounded and unconscious Gunhead, his burned body being buried beneath tons of steel and concrete upon the Villain's rough departure taking the structure down. The Battle Hero had been lucky enough the building's inner structure had kept most of its tonnage from crushing him to a pulp.

Death Arms was more or less in a similar state, barely clinging to life with third-degree burns and piercing wounds coating most of his charred body. It was uncertain whether they'd make it through surgery yet, as their wounds were likely to be lethal if Recovery Girl attempted to outright use her healing Quirk in their current state. The Youthful Heroine was pushing her Quirk to her very limits at the scene, doing her best to assist the wounded for as long as she physically could.

Unfortunately, they had been unable to find any signs of Flare. No GPS transponder, no suit nor body parts remained. Hound Dog couldn't even trace his scent; he was gone.

The mood was downright somber as civilian rescues were well on the way, but so far, the outcomes for those within the main blast radius appeared grim. No survivors or bodies were found within thirty feet on each side of the broadening gouge, where the sheer amount of heat simply melted everything—from metal to asphalt and concrete—into slag. Although the area had been evacuated per protocol, the blast spread forth much further than the locked-down zone imposed by the Police Force.

Much further.

Beyond the immolated zone, the few that did survive were lucky enough to possess Quirks that saved them from the worst of it, but not wholly unscathed. Further away the survivors were plenty, but the rescuer and Pro Heroe's largest hurdle was to dig through the collapsed buildings and fires before it was too late for them.

Not long after the incident unfolded, an urgent alert was broadcast through Musutafu and other nearby cities in Japan warning them of the rampaging Villain. Without any leads regarding their escape or scope of their abilities, they could only hope whoever encountered them next was ready and capable of dealing with them swiftly.

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi stood impatiently at the very edge of the downward slope burned into the street by the blast, shoulders tense and eyes set grimly as he stared at the wide swath of devastation, untold death, and misery. Beside him, Detective Tanema was currently interviewing the exhausted and rattled officers and FRU members that had been present in the incident, gathering their statements and any helpful details about the suspect. It would be perhaps days or even weeks before they could interview Death Arms and Gunhead for vital combat information about their enemy—that is if they made it through the operating table. Hawks had provided some insight, but his encounter had been brief and fleeting.

So far, the Villain's unique appearance and Quirk did not hit any matches in the Hero Network or Police Force Database. Plain and simple, they did not exist in their systems. To be able to take down a First Response Unit, a rookie and two proficient and very experienced Pro Heroes with such appalling ease...it was concerning, to say the least, and it shouldn't be possible for them to not be publicly known.

The way they wreaked havoc upon their city and citizens on a whim at this scale ...they were evil—and alarmingly powerful. Worst of all was the fact they had likely displayed multiple Quirks, complicating things further and sending everything down a rabbit hole he did not want to follow. Flight, enhanced strength, incredible regeneration, and devastating emitter-type energy control. Was there a plausible single Quirk capable of producing all of these effects?

Fat chance.

Was this bastard somehow connected to...him? They'd have to get Toshinori involved at once. Unfortunately for them all, the Symbol of Peace was busy on I-Island attending I-Expo. For some reason, he wasn't responding to any calls at the moment either; they were going straight to voicemail.

Actually, all calls routed to I-Island or anyone attending the event did not go through. A sizable group of heroes was at the event and none could be reached.

"What's going on, Toshinori?" He whispered to himself, trying hard to not worry about his friend or what could be unfolding on the island. Sighing, he turned back towards the survivors, trying his best to avoid the massive destruction looming nearby. He had his work cut out for him here.

Everything would be fine...right?

Central Tower

[ I-Island ]

Izuku Midoriya stared at the live broadcast playing on his cellphone, eyes distant and mouth agape, tears welling up and threatening to spill over. Behind him, his fellow friends and classmates huddled around him, stuck in a similar state of shock and bewilderment.

Their trip to I-Island had been a blast. The man-made island was a dream for both adventurers and nerds alike, and there was so much to do there. After spending a portion of the day enjoying themselves, the group went their separate ways, planning to eventually meet up to go to the private party, all thanks to Melissa's timely invitations.

In typical Izuku fashion, he had lost himself talking to his new friend, who made his heart flutter something crazy as they talked about every subject they loved. They had so many things in common it was ridiculous, even down to their Quirkless nature. She had been nice enough to gift him an old support item she had created—the Full Gauntlet—and he couldn't wait to put it to the test. He was so tired of hurting himself every time he tried to use Full Cowl.

Thanks to Iida's dramatic call chiding them about their potential tardiness, they were able to make it to the meet-up just in time.

Then this happened.

His phone was set-up with a robust newsfeed connected to most of Musutafu's networks and social media, he had explained to them with excessive technical details. When the device went off with a new live feed from a news helicopter flying over the city, they had been excited to watch the strange pink criminal get taken down quickly before heading out to the party. After all, it was Gunhead, Death Arms and Flare engaging them. Apparently, the perp had taken down a full FRU team without a problem. They'd teach 'em a lesson!

Happy cheering turned to apprehensive silence as the situation went downhill quickly, with the Villain appearing to resist and land a good amount of painful hits on both Gunhead and Death Arms, even after they were rammed through a building and shot point-blank. For a moment things were looking up, as Death Arms seemingly dealt a crippling blow with a large street pole, sending the fat pink Villain smashing into an upturned car, their body spread out like melted gum by the force of impact.

Suddenly, the vehicle blew up with the Villain still helplessly stunned and stuck on it. They all had gasped at the brutal and mentally scarring sight; its body practically exploded and fell apart into tiny pink blobs.

They were even more shocked to see the Villain pull themselves together with little effort right after. Even their clothes mended themselves!

Izuku experienced the strongest reaction of them all; a creeping and nasty sense of deja-vu and nausea seeping in, thinking back to his failed attempts at taking down that nasty Sludge Villain that had kidnapped Bakugo. Would the Sludge Villain survive an explosive blast of that magnitude? Being punched into a mist was one thing, fire damage was another—

Dread then crawled into his gut when he noticed the large pink Villain bloat up, their mouth shimmering maliciously. What was he going to do—

Uraraka's horrified scream echoed through the room as she called out Gunhead's name. A tunnel of malevolent swirling light had surged out of the Villain's mouth, blasting towards the surprised heroes. The camera was overwhelmed by the brightness before they could see the aftermath, but it was painfully obvious the streets were being torn asunder judging by the deep roar threatening to ruin Izuku's cellphone speakers.

Immediately after, something slammed into the helicopter, breaking a vital system and sending it spiraling out of control, with dire alarms blaring in the background. As the men inside screamed for help, the spinning footage grew ever-closer to the ground until white noise was all that remained, their broadcast going offline.

After a brief lapse in the live footage and continuous hushed murmurs from the aspiring heroes, another helicopter took to the air and the broadcast went back online. The carnage being shown through the wide lenses was unreal and crippling. Large fires spread out of the surrounding areas, the ward missing a portion of its dwellings and road system in a straight line.

"Oh my God..." Momo and Jiro had whispered in unison. Behind them, Todoroki kept a cool and neutral facade, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil brewing inside. Mineta was pacing around erratically, rambling to Kaminari in unintelligible, frenzied nonsense. Iida looked conflicted, his body was frozen stiff as a board while his analytical mind struggled to process what had just unfolded.

Midoriya himself couldn't speak, his lower lip quivering. It reminded him a bit too much of the incredible power All Might could unleash at a moment's notice.

This was bad.

"I hope they're okay..." Uraraka said bleakly, trying hard not to break down. Barely anything remained of the surroundings where they assumed the heroes had last been seen.

"No worries!" Iida's skin regained its color as he found an opportunity to assist. He jumped into the fray, his eyes fierce with determination, his arms waved around in that funny robot-like manner of his. He was unwilling to let his friends suffer. "They are formidable Heroes. Rest assured, no mere Villain would be able to take them down!"

"I-I hope you're right, Iida," Izuku said doubtfully, wiping off the excess tears and snot threatening to run down his nose. The gears in his mind were going full throttle as he tried to gauge the power unleashed in such short notice and the Quirk behind it, finding some solace in trying to grasp the mechanics of what had unfolded. "Wha-whatever t-that blast was, it had an in-incredible energy output, almost laser-like. Must have been a m-mixture of heat and some sort of emitter energy to produce so-so much damage. If-if it was—"

His geeky rambling was interrupted by the room suddenly darkening around them, emergency red lights taking over the sterile white lighting as a shrill klaxon went off. Large built-in screens lit up with an ominous-looking red background, the word "warning" highlighted in bold letters.

"This is an announcement from the I-Island Security System." A monotonous, automated female voice called out through the speakers. "We have received a report that an explosive device was discovered somewhere on the I-Expo grounds. I-Island will now be in High-Alert. Your safety is our top priority—"

Blast shutters engaged from the top of the large glass windows, quickly trapping them in place as similar systems closed off the exit doors and elevators. Now Izuku could see how I-Island's security system was comparable to those employed in Tartarus. Glancing down at his cellphone, the device had lost all signal the moment the lockdown went off. He took a deep breath, turning to face Melissa, who appeared to be seriously troubled by the event and was muttering to herself.

It sounded like they had their problems to deal with now... he just hoped everyone was okay back in Musutafu without them...and most of all, without All Might.

Thousands of feet above Musutafu, ominous clouds were beginning to gather. A storm was brewing, although it was nothing compared to the one unleashed upon this world moments ago.

Unseen by everyone below, the ever-thickening cloudy cover exploded outwards with sizable Buu-sized perforations, the troubled Majin launching himself away from this place and towards the unknown, far away from the annoying people. Why did they have to ruin everything? Stupid gun-man, he'd get candy somewhere else!

The landscape changed swiftly as Buu continued to gain speed, and soon enough he was flying over looming mountains and eventually a large blue body of water that spread out as far as his eyes could see. His mood lightened considerably as he felt the powerful, cool winds tickle his body, eliciting a small snicker and whoop from him.

He couldn't wait to eat and sleep!

Air Force Space Command

-Cheyenne Mountain Complex-

[ United States of America ]

Today was a rather uneventful day so far, just like the previous one and every single day before it. During times of peace and minimal international tensions, it was a boring and straightforward endeavor for the country's remaining military forces. Even as some branches and their respective roles were eliminated with the meteoric rise of Pro Heroes and Quirks, the Air Force still played a vital part serving as the first line of defense against international threats.

After all, Pro Heroes couldn't be everywhere at once nor could the track every square mile of airspace. For this reason, the base remained ever-vigilant and at the ready for any airborne danger that could arise at a moment's notice.

The sun was starting its slow crawl towards the cloudy horizon beyond the mountainous range that nested the resilient bunker, the sweltering heat finally ramping down somewhat. Every instrument room deep within the base was deathly quiet, the only noise audible being the pleasant hum of dozens of cooling fans.

That is until an alert went off on one of the early warning and control systems.

The operator manning the console stiffened, the tiredness marring his young features disappearing as his eyes focused on the faint signature pinging off erratically on one of their state-of-the-art sea-based X-radars. Due to the target's size, incredibly fast movement, and minimal heat signature, it was almost passed off as background noise or a glitch in the system. Unable to ascertain its source, the alert was forwarded to him for further scrutiny.

Cranking up the sensor output in its general direction on the Pacific Ocean, he was then able to verify it was no glitch.

"What in the heck are you?" He muttered, wide-eyed and needing to do a double-take; whatever it was, it was shifting its direction in the Pacific Ocean at random intervals while traveling at speeds...beyond Mach 3. That couldn't be right. There was little reasoning as its speed increased and decreased at a moment's notice.

Most important of all, it was inevitably heading straight for the mainland with no attempts at communication or broadcasting an ID.

Instantly labeled as a potential airborne threat, protocols were followed swiftly.

Within minutes, the engines of three F-35 Lightning II jets roared to life, their overly eager pilots ready for anything as the deadly war machines spooled up in the runway. Taking off towards the unknown object to intercept, a burst of concentric white rings exploded out of their tail-ends as they broke through the speed barrier, their shrinking outlines barely visible in the sky moments later.

En-route to the unidentified target, the trio had to constantly adjust their heading to match the absolutely nonsensical pattern it was following at such speeds, which had thankfully dropped to a pursuable Mach 1 for now. No large airplane could deal with the G-forces involved in such maneuvers. Could it be a hijacked fighter jet or a foreign enemy group? It'd be a death sentence for a single one to dare and invade their airspace.

Red flags abound.

As they got within viable communication range, the lead fighter—Captain A. Jenkins—engaged the wide-band radio, his tone grave and assertive as the small group spread out to cautiously approach from the sides before nearing visual range. "Unidentified aircraft. This is the United States Air Force; you have been intercepted. You are unlawfully entering American airspace. You have failed to acknowledge traffic control hails numerous times. Please acknowledge and identify yourself or turn around at once!"

Radio silence. No white noise or signs of comm failure. The pilots frowned behind their helmets as the blip turned aggressively once more, forcing them to readjust accordingly, watchful to remain out of its potential firing range as they approached it in a wide flanking pattern.

Jenkins hailed them a second time. Again, no response.

A glove tightened with unease around the control stick, his eyes drifting to the weapon switches. "Unidentified aircraft, this is your third and final warning. You have unlawfully entered American airspace! Identify yourself immediately or you will be shot down!"

"This isn't right," The pilot flanking on the right—his tag reading N. Hadwell—buzzed in, his voice laced with confusion as he shared the baffling sensor data with his team. "Hi-res radar's not pinging the target like an aircraft now. No heat signature either on IR, it can barely track it."

"We'll find out in a sec. Close in now." Jenkins ordered steadily, his glower deepening as they approached visual range with a small burst of afterburner speed. They could see no identifiable gleam of steel nor the flash of wing-mounted anti-collision lights anywhere. A stealth craft, perhaps?

Before they knew it, the blip in their radar flickered off only to appear right over them, setting off shrill proximity alarms in their consoles. The men had no time to voice their alarm, fully focusing on pursuing extreme evasive maneuvers instead as a rounded, squealing pink blur shot perhaps a dozen meters above the closest two fighters, its incredible speed sending shudders of turbulence through the jets.

"Shit! What was that?" The other pilot close to Jenkins—his tag reading M. Thomas—yelled in alarm as he stabilized his wavering craft.

Jenkins cursed under his breath as he navigated through the turbulence, ensuring to maintain his cool through this unexpected and dangerous development. "Doesn't matter! Pursue at full power!" Twisting up and to the side sharply, the three F-35's were forced to engage their afterburners at maximum output to keep up with the ridiculously fast target. It was in times like this that he missed flying the much nimbler and speedier F-22 Raptors.

Slowly but surely they managed to catch up to the erratic unknown, which appeared to slow down and maintain a steady straight path once it noticed their continued chase and presence. Upon closer inspection—

...what?

"Hey Thomas, Hadwell," Jenkins called out, his tone borderline incredulous. "Do you see what I'm seeing?" He did not wait for a response. "Jenkins to Command, the target is...a single person. They're flying, likely through Quirk usage. Target's skin is pink from head to toe and it looks like they're wearing a damn cape."

Yep, full-blown incredulous now.

They were now close enough to see their target shift their chubby head—which had a strange tentacle above it—their way as if it had heard them. "Leave Buu alone!" It screeched loud enough it resonated through the airtight cabins. Was that a threat?

Jenkins felt an inexplicable shudder run down his spine just by watching them. Gritting his teeth, he took in a deep breath, casting aside the dreadful feelings trying to pile up in his chest.

"Acknowledged," Command responded after a brief pause, their voice crisp and unflinching. "They're in violation of international Quirk Usage treaties and remain unidentified in American waters. Per Air Force and NORAD regulations, proceed with capture or takedown. Support VTOL en-route for retrieval shortly."

"Understood. Switching to capture device." Jenkins replied, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he flipped the correct switch on the broad console. Hadwell and Thomas responded with target confirmations. "Fire at will,"

Each jet released a small, bulbous projectile, their tail ends lighting up as they honed in on the large humanoid. The payload proceeded to explode on impact, spreading out a flexible bubble-like material over them as they let out a yelp of surprise, a metallic rope running back to the underbelly of each jet where a winch held the devices in place.

Burdened by the capture netting, the massive pink creature grunted, forcing themselves to keep moving forward in challenge.

Even with a portion of their jet's thrust put into slowing the target down, it wasn't enough. To avoid stalling, the trio were forced to redirect the totality of the engine's thrust into their full hover mode, their noses lifting upward as they did. Vents opened above and below their frames, spewing the redirected exhaust through them to remain aloft, their angles bringing forth the highest level of pull against the stubborn freak.

It still wasn't enough! The pink bastard's movement was slowed to a crawl, but they still managed to pull the three powerful jets forward. Having no other option, the pilots engaged the electrical charges within the nets, eliciting shrieks from the pink blob as they spasmed, flashes of electricity arcing and spreading through their body.

That put an end to the struggle.

Oddly enough, even after being shocked, the damn thing still remained aloft on their own power, a fact that kept the pilots wary.

"Do not move or you will get shocked again," Jenkin's warning echoed through.

"Relax boss. We got 'em." The confident pilot hovering closest to Buu—Thomas—reassured him through the comms. "That voltage could knock out a damn gorilla. They ain't awake."

The two underlings chuckled.

Jenkins didn't, still feeling uneasy about the whole ordeal. They were right, though. Maybe he was looking too much into it. Yeah, that's it. "Alright, let's reel 'em up and go home." He said, his mood improving considerably after seeing there were no more visible attempts to escape or resist the capture devices. Dealing with a single person via aircraft was an unpleasant experience. Even more so if it was dealing with Quirk users. This wasn't the crap the Air Force was meant to be doing.

Feeling quite accomplished, the trio eagerly engaged their winches to pull the target up and rendezvous with the approaching recovery vessel better suited to secure the target—

—or tried to, for the capture bubble then snapped, a pair of meaty, yellow gloves punching right through the tough material like sharp blades. A pink, rotund head popped out next, and it did not look pleased one bit.

Buu was now pouting as smoke spread through his lightly burnt vest and pants from the electrical shock. A faint Kiai wave blew away most of the sticky restraints stuck on his body. He sighted the first offending metal bird, tracing the winch line still partially attached to him. Wrapping the steel wire around his right glove, he proceeded to give it a light tug.

Reinforced steel screamed in protest and gave way like wet tissue, electronic innards, bolts and framework spewing out of the newly made gouge in the STOVL aircraft as if it were a birthday pinata. The large frontal fan responsible for its hover capabilities was warped beyond repair as the winch ripped through it, its blades falling apart as it went out in a blaze of shrapnel and fire.

Thomas let out a shout of alarm, unable to regain control of the plummeting, burning jet. No matter what he tried, the systems screeched out catastrophic engine failures, forcing him to eject out of the crippled F-35 just in time before the multi-million dollar aircraft went off in a blaze of ignited jet fuel.

"Buu like fireworks!" The Majin exclaimed, clapping in amusement as he witnessed the fiery display of military destruction.

Scrambling to action, the other two aircraft immediately disengaged their winches to avoid a similar fate upon noticing they had the freak's undivided attention now. Their rear exhausts flared up as they transitioned to normal flight while they relocated to a safe distance to engage from.

Said target appeared to be idly floating by, curious about their next move, displaying little to no fear considering he was facing some of the Western's most deadly war machines head-on. They were smirking too!

Pissed and frustrated beyond relief at the unexpected loss and blatant flippancy, Jenkins toggled his active weaponry away from non-lethal, his only relief at the moment was that he got to see his underling ejecting safely out of the burning craft. The moment this thing laid a hand on them all bets were off. This was why he did not like these stupid pacifistic protocols in the first place; they never ended well and now he'd have to explain how he lost a damn F-35 to a fat, pink, caped gumball. What a damned embarrassment!

This bastard was good as dead. "Mark target hostile and shred the fucker!" Jenkins snarled through grit teeth.

Meanwhile, what remained of Buu's brewing irritation waned as his childlike curiosity overtook it, the smoke coming off his damaged clothes fading as they mended themselves. The fireworks were worth it! He then raised a gloved hand to his round chin, his mind whirring in wonder upon noticing a small side port sliding open near the fuselage of each of the remaining hovering machines. What were the metal birds doing? Maybe more shiny firewor—

Within said ports, two sets of barrels rapidly spooled up to unleash hellfire in the form of relentless 25mm rounds, a portion of the jet's front ends disappearing through the resulting cloud of fire, tracers and spent gunpowder spewing out of each of the GAU-22/A Gatling Guns. Buu's mouth snapped open in surprise as he felt the rounds embed themselves into his body with impunity. He howled, pain blossoming throughout his torso as the shells seared the outer layers of his flesh around every impact site until his body was completely lost within the thickening smoke.

In a matter of seconds, the two pilots had thrown over 200 rounds into the thing's bulbous body. Feeling certain the deed was done, the duo let go of their triggers, sighing in relief as they observed the thickening cloud of dark smoke and pulverized pink mist where the hostile once floated.

Nothing could survive that unscathed.

How wrong they were.

"Shit shit shit!" A startled Hadwell shouted, noticing a burst of pink movement out of the smoke, flying straight towards him. With a surge of panic, he depressed the trigger again, letting another hail of 25mm rounds downrange into the approaching disfigured behemoth, who appeared to be healing incredibly quickly from being turned into Swiss cheese moments prior.

Buu's face and chest kept being torn apart, and through each regenerated visage, a playful and wicked smirk was visible to the terrified pilot.

Panicking at the disturbing sight—and gravely aware of the imminent danger he was in—Hadwell jolted the stick hard to send his F-35 into a sideways dip. The vessel responded instantaneously, saving him from a headlong charge by a few inches as its engines transitioned back into regular flight mode. He eyed the airspeed indicator—it was taking too long to go back into full throttle!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pink blob give chase. Then they disappeared—

Damn it! Where the hell did it go?!

"Byebye!" Hadwell heard the cheery, high-pitched voice in front of him and his heart ground to a halt. Everything around him slowed down as he swiveled his head towards the voice, and he was horrified to see the bastard happily standing close to the jet's nose, one pudgy arm happily waving at him while the other was outstretched his way in the shape of a hook.

Before he could perform evasive maneuvers, Buu's glove dug into the fuselage by the side of the cockpit, harmlessly shearing a good half-inch of protective steel off. However, as the jet's body broadened into the vulnerable air intake and wing, the effects were devastating and instantaneous. Unyielding Buu met steel, and inch by inch the engine was crushed into itself, the compressor and spinning blades shredding themselves apart to burst into flames upon breaching the fuel injectors.

Hadwell's trembling hands had already pulled on the ejection handle when the jet's main fuel tank was compromised by the accruing damage. Above him, the windshield was automatically released to let him eject out of the time bomb safely. The propellant under the seat had only launched him a few feet away before his pained screams rattled the comms, his body getting engulfed in the fierce fireball as his F-35 burst into budding flames. Unlike Thomas' aircraft, his ordnance had been active, making it subsequently go off in escalating explosions that completely immolated everything in a thirty-foot radius, including the half of Buu directly exposed to it.

What little remained of the slagged jet slowly drifted down over the deceivingly calm Pacific Ocean.

"Yay! More firework! More!" Buu cheered upon being whole once more, his puffy cheeks rounding up as he grinned, eyes still peeled towards the falling fireball.

Inside the shaken and outright furious Captain's cockpit, the missile targeting systems locked on with a warbled beep of confirmation. In a matter of seconds, things had gone completely FUBAR. This fucker was going down! Sending his jet into a backward scramble to gain further distance from the bastard before firing, his eyes traced the falling debris as multiple warnings went off regarding his comrade's disappearance from radar.

There was no doubt; Hadwell did not make it. If his seat had ejected it got caught in the massive explosion. Jenkins was livid and on the warpath. "Alright, you piece of shit. Go to hell!" He roared, his voice promising violence and retribution as he squeezed the missile release trigger.

With the click of unraveling latches deep in the craft's guts, the payload beneath each wing came to life as four 300 pound AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles went online, the burning propellant glowing blue as they screamed out and away with righteous fury. The ordnance rapidly accelerated to near Mach 4 speeds as it streaked towards Buu—

—who turned just in time to catch the closest one by its base, its cylindrical body crunching away under his glove, making the missile's propulsion system sputter away into puffs of smoke.

Jenkin's eyes widened in horror. Buu eyed the missile's smoking end with mild interest as if it were a mere stick, his attention completely focused on it and completely missing the second, third and fourth ones arching into his midsection—

Boom.

Another cloud of pure hellfire blossomed mid-air, the missile's high-yield explosives going off together and turning the bastard into mush, little blobs of incinerated pink tissue drizzling everywhere through the growing cloud of ashy smoke.

Payback was a bitch. Jenkins breathed out, his shoulders slumping as his F-35 maintained its steady hover. "Command, the target has been neutralized. We got one casualty and an ejecting pilot on the water. We...need recovery..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught movement through the dissipating smoke. Was that...n-no damn way...

Buu stared at the metal bird that hurt him. Most of his right arm had been blown off as the stick exploded on it, leaving nothing but a charred nub at his elbow. The other sticks that plowed right into his midsection had blasted off most of his gut and upper body, the final one taking a leg. He tried to resist the damage but his body refused to comply, simply breaking apart when he was hurt. He was starting to see red again and he did not like it! They burned him and he really, really hated it!

"Metal bird hurt Buu...now you go bye-bye!" He shrieked at the hovering jet, his stout arm and hand finally regrowing so he could jab an accusing finger their way.

"Fuck me!" Jenkins cried out, jolting his fighter out and away. This just turned into a damn suicide mission. Just as he performed the sharp turn, he unleashed every single locked-on missile in his arsenal, their path carefully set in a way that would serve as a distraction during his retreat...hopefully.

Buu was having none of it. He launched himself forward with a thunderous shockwave of ki, clapping his large hands together to send a Kiai wave towards the ordnance screaming his way. Both missiles going straight at him crumpled with the force, their warheads detonating far too early. Buu shot right through the fire, his eyes set on the bailing metal bird and eyeing the other four fire sticks following his every move. The metal bird was really trying to fly fast now. It didn't want to turn into fireworks, but Buu would make it!

Jenkins struggled to focus on his breathing after sending a request for air support, an action that would put the Air Force on high alert. They...they would...

His vision and thoughts started to blur, his helmet fogging up with his fast breathing. Everything said through comms was muffled. Behind him, the pink bastard kept with his pace, jeering and laughing maniacally, very aware of the fact Jenkins couldn't outrun them. The missiles had been swatted aside and his flares didn't do shit. As agile as his jet was, this fat bastard was somehow faster and nimbler!

No, he couldn't hyperventilate now. For Christ's sake, he was a Captain! Another surge of adrenaline cleared his mind. Everything would be fine. Full battle-ready squadrons would be here soon. This bastard would face the might of the Air Force and Pro Heroes would be at the ready, and he'd be back home in no time—

Or not. At that moment, Buu decided he was done with the chasing game. His rotund body flared up with energy as he let out an excited whoop, his silhouette blurring into nothing with the intense burst in speed. In less than a second, his head and upper body had torn through the whole jet like a battering ram, and Jenkins had but a moment to scream in abject terror as he heard a high-pitched "Bye-bye!" before the world went white with indescribable pain.

Buu's discombobulated body and mangled head resurfaced through the fierce explosion of jet fuel and melting steel, and it took him a good while to regather his bearings this time, the regeneration cycle taking a greater toll than usual. His distended, warped arms were stuck in funny ways close to his head and he felt even sleepier. Upon noticing the burning wreckage, he sighed glumly, aware the fun was over. It was worth hurting for a bit to see those go boom-boom. "Angry metal bird so weak. Buu like firework though!"

Sill knocked silly, he floated next to the fading smoke, unsure as to what to do next. He spun around, and all he could see was water. So much water.

There. He squinted hard, eyeing a curious thin but fading cloud pattern thousands of feet above him. Three very precise cloudy trails went on far into the horizon. It took his brain some time until the cogs within resumed their slow chugging along.

Did the metal toys come from there? If so, there was sure to be food nearby and a place to nap! And more fireworks!

"Buu so so smart," He announced proudly, stabbing at the side of his head for emphasis.

With a joyous hurrah, Buu head dived sharply towards the ocean, only halting his descent as he neared the endless body of saltwater. Beneath his broad belly, unseen fields of energy came to life and pushed down upon the calm ocean, the immense force imposed upon the water slicing a channel open ahead of his path, with massive fifteen-foot waves surging out and away in his wake.

The faint contrails of the jets had almost faded to nothing after a few minutes of tracking them.

It didn't matter anymore though; he could now see a landmass that began to overtake most of the horizon.

Buu's eyes cracked open, a mischievous cackle echoing through the open sea as he made landfall upon Monterey Bay, California.

There we go! I can't believe I've written this much in the last week. I should have another chapter for this up by Sunday hopefully if I don't have too much work. Once that chapter is done, I'll be devoting myself full-time once more to Against All Odds. Losing that chapter was a bummer but it's coming along. This is a great stress reliever.

Again, I hope everyone understands this isn't focusing on precise power levels or end of the world in one chapter. This isn't the typical curbstomp and I'm enjoying taking a different path with it. I don't want everyone to die at one time and I want to explore the effects as this unfolds, especially with everyone underestimating the threat. This will be an unraveling mess and I'm not sure how things will end up for everyone. They're dealing with a temporarily weakened and less violent Buu, so we'll see how things turn around as his power steadily skyrockets. We'll also find out what humanity will do to try and stop him. Still trying to figure out how to bring the U.A. gang into it soon.

Until next time!