As far as Tomura knew, they were in someone's old hunting lodge. There was one bed in the dusty and disfigured hovel. Every night, a different person was given the opportunity to rest. As of yet, they had spent the longest time in the little corner of nowhere. Ten days. Based on the bullet sized holes in the splintered walls and moss overtaking the unkempt roof, Tomura suspected it was a bandit hideout or drug pickup. His hope was they could steal contraband from weaker villains and sell to Giran, but the hope seemed to be fruitless. He stepped out of the lodge to get some air, giving Sanada room to work. Mostly, he didn't want to beat his punching bag until it broke. If he expected her to recreate an arm, he needed to give her some respite. After that, her usefulness was limited.
Before this, he hadn't gone camping. All For One had never seen the purpose in roughing it. The rest of his motley crew were urban explorers, at best. All of them had an abundance of experience cornering people in alleys, but nobody knew the first thing about survival. Trial and error had the tasks divied up fairly. Spinner and Toga used their knives to hunt, though they could only take out birds and small game. Tomura skinned them by decaying away their fur, fish, or feathers. Dabi made a fire, which only took him a second of effort. Twice cooked, though he was hit or miss with the end results. Compress kept an eye on the camp, never letting anyone in or out unless he knew where they were going.
Their very first night, the League of Villains had stared at the stars in awe. Tomura didn't know why he found the celestial twinkling so mystifying, but they captured him like a moth to a flame. Their power over him infuriated the leader to his core. They're not that great. Just big balls of gas.
He had no idea how much time passed before he went inside again. Twice and Toga had claimed the bed. Dabi sat in a winged armchair, on what must have once been a fine piece of furniture. Now the brown leather was cracked, scratched, and lumpy. It was so symbolic of the League that Tomura wanted to order Dabi to burn the chair. That'd be stupid, he told himself. Then we'd be even less comfortable than we are now. He turned to look at the main show - Compress and Sanada on the couch. Though Compress had removed his hard mask, he still had his black skimask hiding all but his eyes and mouth. Slowly but surely, he had regained a stump down to his elbow. He was impressed, but not inclined to show it. "Are you going to take all fucking night? Get on with it."
Neither the healer nor her patient so much as looked at him, which pissed him off even more. "Leave it alone," Dabi sighed, anticipating Tomura's moodswing. "Some quirks actually take concentration."
"How would you know, Flameo?" He kept his voice low, unintentionally trying to allow the healer to work. "All you do is light shit on fire." Tomura plopped into a rickety seat beside the table, as every other seat was already taken. He watched for only seconds when something interrupted him. In this case, it was Spinner vacating the bathroom.
Spinner only glanced at Compress's stub before he looked like he was going to hurl. "I'm going to the roof," he said with as much of a huff as he could manage.
"Don't puke up there," Dabi taunted, his proverbial grin only adding to the mockery.
As Spinner walked out, Tomura was struck with a sudden idea. "Are you going to have the bitch fix your ugly mug?"
Dabi seemed perfectly indifferent to the stump and the bone poking from it. "Maybe."
His quiet answer seemed more aloof than thoughtful, as if he were trying to get Tomura off his back. Tomura relented and quieted. At some point, he fell asleep in his janky perch. He awakened with his thumbs instinctually tucked against his palms and cheeks resting atop them, supported by his knees propped on his elbows. Sunlight cut unpleasantly into his eyes, causing him to blink and shield his face with the back of his arm. Compress had his new arm cradled in the old one, where he carefully moved his fingertips up. He shifted his stance and looked around for the captive. He didn't have to search long before finding her asleep on the ground in a position that implied she'd passed out rather than drifted off to a peaceful slumber.
"What do you think, Compress? Is it functional?" As commanding as he appeared, he trusted all of his comrades and valued their respect, as well as their input. It helped that none of them had any leadership qualities. Dabi was undermotivated. Spinner was a Stain do-over. Toga was essentially a walking blade. Compress was happy to have moments in the spotlight, but far more content to let others call the shots. Twice was too unstable to do anything more than wipe his ass if he didn't have his hood on. They were birds of a feather. As for the girl, he could probably get rid of her with little worries, if she acted up sooner rather than later. Too much time and the oddballs could grow fond of the bitch.
Compress twisted to expose his freshly created forearm. "Everything feels excellent." He slid some air into a compressed marble, testing his quirk. "The skin is different. It's much younger and softer than the rest of me, but that can't be helped."
Dabi apparently wasn't asleep. "You could leave villany behind and become a hand model."
"I wonder if my fingerprints have changed," Compress mused.
Roused by the chatter, Toga and Twice left the bed. As soon as the latter noticed his comrade's new limb, he pointed dramatically between Tomura and the healer. "Is she dead?" He exclaimed, following a split second later with a loud, "Good!"
"Ah, no. She passed out shortly after completing the work. I suggested she stop, but that made her angry." Compress stood and stretched upwards, apparently unworried.
Tomura was intrigued. "Angry, you say? What an odd response for a healer." She had done her part, so he decided to let her rest. "Compress, put her back in her cage. I'm going out. Twice, Toga, you're with me. Be sure to pack lightly." Aside from the clothes on their back, none of them had a thing. Then again, "Compress, give me your arm. We can sell it back to Giran when we see him." There was no reluctance from Compress, who happily handed over his prosthetic.
Akemi didn't like that she was in a marble again. Even more, she hated that she had shown her kidnappers weakness on her very first day. She'd been in shock and had played right into their hands; filling the role of victim with nothing short of stereotypical efficiency. From behind the teal glass, she saw the cabin from a new angle. Shrunk as she was, it looked to be a giant's lair. She stood and tried to take a step forward. Surely, a miniscule orb would move with such an easy shift? Akemi stomped once. Nothing. It took half an hour for her captors to notice she was awake.
The disorientation of regaining dozens of kilograms a second and overusing her quirk had her head spinning. Akemi stumbled and dropped to her knees. Once down, she breathed deeply in her nose and exhaled through her mouth, expanding her lungs. "I'd thank you for the arm," Compress said, reaching out to help her to her feet, "but it's not as if you truly had a choice." Akemi ignored his attempt at contact and got up on her own. As far as she could tell, the only sourpuss was the guy with the gray hair. Everyone else seemed to follow him, but not necessarily his example. Tomura Shigaraki, she recalled, remembering the news reports. Once vertical, she brushed off her pants, as if expecting to have dirt clinging to her.
A green man, Spinner, walked through the door with several fish dangling from his grasp. "Hey," he greeted his comrades. Akemi saw Dabi, Spinner, and Compress, but no Shigaraki, Toga, or Twice.
"Welcome back," Compress answered, ever the gentleman.
Dabi leaned onto the chair's back two legs. "Lizard. Give the healer a knife. She's cooking tonight."
Spinner furrowed his scales, as he didn't have eyebrows. "Just who put you in charge?"
"I did." There was only a second of resistance before Spinner did as he was asked. "Here," he snapped at Akemi, as if it were her fault she was in charge of cooking. She numbly accepted the sharp blade and walked over to the sink.
"The water's out," Compress stated, rising. "We'll have to go down to the river." We? Dabi didn't look like he was going to move. Spinner sunk down on the single old sofa in the room, putting himself at a distance. Not only would he not meet her eye, he made it a point not to look at her whenever she faced him. Though her legs felt like lead and she wanted nothing more than to lay down, she decided not to press her luck. Akemi stepped out of the cabin with Compress close behind her. "Your file didn't say anything about you being a mute."
Akemi kept moving forward, her arms filled with several trout. "You don't need to follow me. The river's easy enough to see." She wanted to be alone, but knew her situation wouldn't permit such freedoms. Captives were only trusted by idiots.
"I'll be there in case you get any ideas," Compress answered, smirking at her boldness. "Are you going to put up a fight?"
Akemi shook her head. Physically, she was average for a citizen, but far, far beneath a hero or high-tier villain. She kneeled beside the bank and scraped off the scales. Compress leaned over and picked up a pebble. First he bounced it in his palm. Once he was sure of its marginal weight, he tossed it into the current. "You know, they say to never trust the quiet ones. Keep this up and you'll annoy Shigaraki." He made no comment on his strength, so she figured he was satisfied. "Shigaraki and Toga are the ones to watch," he warned.
He's nuts. Dabi's the serial killer.
"Spinner and I are the least likely to commit random acts of violence, but we'll do almost anything Shigaraki asks. It'd be in your best interests to appease him." Akemi finished her task. Since she didn't have anything else to use, she piled the rinsed fish into her shirt and walked back to the crumbling hovel, leaving the knife by the bank. She saw Compress retrieve the weapon before joining her. When they got close, Compress opened the door, allowing Akemi to walk unimpeded. She stepped across the threshold and went to the table, where she dumped the dinner unceremoniously across the dirty surface.