Chpt 1: Catalyst (Bakugo's Start Line)

Izuku Midoriya (age Fourteen)

Izuku Midoriya wasn't a good looking individual. Most people would call him plain; the only things that stood out were the scattered freckles on his face and his weedlike hair. But somehow, despite being plain, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Part of him wanted to break the mirror. A very large part. Standing stripped down to his underwear in front of the mirror, every scar and blemish that other people had left in his skin stood out like the trademark signs of some serious illness. In a sense, he could have called it that; whether it be the cruelty of the world or the cruelty of his own race… or perhaps his own fate. Some days he wasn't sure if it was the people… or his own bad luck that hated more.

The young man shook his head to break himself out of his thoughts. He cringed before the mirror, but he inspected his newest wound carefully nonetheless. Bullies had caught him again, and used him for target practice. All over his body were light scratches or cuts. His wrists burned from a rash where they'd used his hands to suspend him against the wall, and he'd scraped knee from falling to the ground. While most of his wounds weren't an issue, he had two new ones that would need attention.

First was the bruise on his hip -a rock user from his class had shot him to test his accuracy- that was gradually growing darker and darker. Taking bandages, he wrapped his waist as tightly as he could stand, with a gauze patch between. Then came the burns on his arms.

Considering some of the darker and more… mottled patches of skin covering his body, Izuku was just thankful that the burns weren't second degree. Something had caused Bakugo to throttle the blasts today.

"Eh? You're not going to beg us to stop?" Bakugo chuckled as he hoisted Midoriya off the ground. The hand gripping Midoriya's wrist popped with small explosions, singeing the skin of his forearms till the heat wouldn't fade away. Gasping as he was slammed against the wall, Midoriya screamed as his other arm received the same treatment. "C'mon, beg us to stop, nerd. Threaten to tell someone. I DARE YOU!"

Izuku groaned as he slathered the burn cream over his arms and wrapped more gauze and bandages over the wounds. After he was finished he rand a hand idly over the old wounds. The worst of them were burn scars from Bakugo's bad days, but there were others. A star shaped puncture wound from where someone had run him through with a rod of some kind, just beneath his ribs on his right side. A large blotch of darkened skin on his heart in the shape of a hand, his oldest burn… the only one he hadn't received from Bakugo, actually. On his chest there was a long, straight line from where he'd had to have surgery mending the organs under his broken ribs.

When he was finished remembering the list of old wounds he stowed the medical supplies in their case under his bed. Slowly, he pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and pants, then slipped some fuzzy wristbands over his hands. As much as he hated lying to his mother, he couldn't let her know how badly he was hurt either. The smiley faces on the back of the bright green wrist bands were a good enough excuse. His mother just gave him a familiar sad look when he told her that the accessories were there to remind him to smile.

Surfing the internet for internal bruising advice, Izuku couldn't help glancing at his bed constantly. Considering the time, Izuku only had about an hour before his mother would return home, and in that hour… Minimizing his medical searching, Izuku pulled a black box out from where he'd hidden it. Inside were a series of notebooks, folders, and a calendar. Circled in red was the day's date, all the way down to the end of the week: a reminder that his insane plan was supposed to begin that evening. For a moment he smiled, forgetting the pain that wracked his body as he thought back to his plans.

Izuku HAD to find him. He could feel it in his bones. If he missed this chance…

He'd never be able to meet his hero.

Dinner was plain. Izuku and his mother didn't talk much. Both of them wanted to talk to the other, but couldn't find the words. Guilt and exhaustion weighed them down, forcing whatever they thought to say straight back down their throats. Just another night of quiet 'family time' before each cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed.

Izuku didn't go to bed.

He did a little more research on tending his wounds, then checked his wraps. Once he'd popped a few more pain pills, Izuku pulled on a gray sweater, then donned a pitch-black shirt over that. Wearing gloves of mottled gray and black, he dressed in black pants and a second pair of sneakers, painted the same color. It was an odd outfit, but it suited his purpose. Once he was dressed and finished checking the rest of his equipment, he flopped down on the bed and dozed.

The sound of his phone buzzing quietly woke him. As quietly as possible he snuck out of the apartment and down the stairs. His apartment complex was dangerous: they were serious about security, so the cameras were in each level of the stairs and guards circled around occasionally. Getting out without being seen was difficult. On his way Izuku couldn't help imagining all the quirks he'd researched, and which ones would help him escape his little prison.

Something about the city bothered him.

During the day, people moved about as little as possible, but that didn't mean that there weren't people out just trying to enjoy their day. Cars hummed and roared down streets, sputtered at stop lights and down back alleys. People made little noises, like footsteps and grunts and conversation. Trains roared along the tracks, but they weren't as important as what was right in front of him; the rumble and tremors that came from the trains bubbled underneath the regular din of the everyday commuter.

After curfew, the world seemed hollow. The sidewalks had no people and almost no cars drove down the streets. Lights and signs seemed to fade, except the stoplights: they glowed like sinister blinking red eyes on the horizon. Silence dominated the city… at least for a little while.

Under the silence and the darkness, Izuku darted through alleys and down sidewalks. He kept to the alleys as much as possible, but the silence unnerved him. The silence didn't last though. Slowly the city began to stir.

Dogs' barking sent Izuku leaping into the air all but shrieking. Cats slinking around corners and through alleys made him pause and shake under their gleaming stare. A siren came from the distance, and others rose up to answer the call. Izuku couldn't shake the image of a pack of wolves prowling the city, howling sirens as they ran the streets. Glass shattered occasionally, then more and more frequently as he crept further from home. Rude laughter and gunshots sounded from around corners. Izuku always ran from those. Barely an hour passed before Izuku caught himself thinking of 'demons' on his trail. Whatever he'd imagined before, the city was far worse than he'd thought at night.

Izuku's first shaking fit came as he was hiding from a squad of cop cars. Panic suddenly overwhelmed him; for no reason at all, he was unable to move. With a hand clasped tightly over his own mouth, he slowly became more and more overwhelmed by the sound of the blood in his own ears. His heart hammered away until he thought he might have a heart attack. Checking his watch told him that only three and a half minutes had passed. He gasped for breath, but it barely helped to calm him down at all… instead he pulled the neck of his shirts away from his skin and fanned himself.

Get a hold of yourself, dumbass! This isn't the time to go crazy! Izuku screamed at himself. He dashed out from the planter where he'd been hiding, crossed the street and hid in a corner as a lone police car drove by a few seconds later. Moving, he discovered, bit down all the fear and nausea that threatened to choke him. So he kept moving, constantly dodging from place to place. It didn't stop his heart rate from increasing slowly, but it at least kept him sane. His brain felt as if it had been dumped in ice water.

Izuku's target was a small shopping mall that had become a local favorite for the gangs to hang out. Despite the increased security of the shop owners, the villains and gang kids amused themselves by having contests over who could break into where, steal the most, and anything else along those lines. Ducking into a door frame, he pulled off his bag and opened it up once he was close enough.

Preparing for his outing hadn't been easy. Hiding who he was and recording evidence meant a mask and a camera; both had cost him everything he'd saved up for ten years. The mask was plastic, with a cloth face mask underneath. It secured to the head snuggly, with a pull over for Izuku's hair, and had a slot for the camera on the side of his head. A pair of lenses gave him the option of night vision, but he didn't care for having the whole world dyed green. It was his least favorite color after all. He checked his reflection in the window and laughed quietly to himself. If anyone looked like a villain, it was him; but he also could have been a hero. Maybe. The thought purged him of fear completely, if momentarily.

"Hero observation diary, day one." Turning on the camera, he spoke quietly through his mask. With a nod to confirm his resolve, he darted off into the night again.

Interlude

Katsuki Bakugo (age Fourteen)

Katsuki woke up on an unfamiliar couch. His head hurt, as did most of his body; it seemed hard to breath, as if he'd been choked out again. Snarling at the empty room, he ran a hand through his spiky blond hair and tried to remember the night before.

The party at the mall… Riptide had tried setting up some of his friends. Everything had gone to shit after that. Cops, explosions and gunfire, people fleeing in every direction and screaming, shouting... His eyes widened as he remembered the asshole made of sludge. The slime had enveloped him in a flash, and forced itself down his throat and into his ears. Slowly his vision had failed him… and then he'd been free. The slime raced off down an alley, chasing someone who'd dived into the slime to save them. Katsuki growled, but no matter how hard he tried he could only remember that they'd been dressed in black wearing a backpack. When he'd gotten up to give chase…

The cop. His hand had settled on the body of a dead cop. Thrown into the sludge villain, the body had taken Katsuki and his friends with it all the way through the goo.

Fuck… Katsuki growled to himself. A series of pops sounded from his hand as he remembered being saved. Saved! Someone had saved him! What the fuck had he been doing?

"You're awake, then." Katsuki glared up at the new face in the room. A tall young man with a shaved head, older than high school but not a salaryman by any standard, leaned against the door frame. His expression was indifferent, but something about him told Katsuki to be careful with him.

"The fuck do you want, shithead? Where am I?" The man laughed.

"We haven't met yet. People call me Rusty." Katsuki froze, glaring at the man. Rusty was the supposed leader of the gang that Katsuki had taken a liking to, a ghost who never really showed up around other gangs because of the ridiculous bounty on his head. "And you're in my house. Play nice, flashbang."

Katsuki growled at the gang's nickname for him. Use a technique one time… Fuck! Rusty? FUCK!

"Why am I here?" Rusty shrugged.

"We needed to regroup. And I need to hear your end of the story." Rusty walked inside, still as nonchalant as ever, and took a seat in the armchair to Katsuki's right. "A lot happened last night. Walk me through it."

"The fuck? Ask your bitch." Katsuki glared at Rusty, shifting to the other side of the couch as the other man took a seat.

"I heard Riptide's story." Rusty's eyes settled on Katsuki, and for a moment Katsuki broke out in a cold sweat. "I want yours now. Talk."

"…Fine…" Katsuki said quietly. He started from their arrival at the hangout, interacting with people that they knew from the other local groups and poking fun at the new guys. Riptide had forced a few of Katsuki's friends into moving in a competition, against Katsuki's word. An alarm had sounded, and everything had gone to shit. Cops showed up five minutes later, but it had turned into an all-out war zone. Sludge man had shown up a few minutes after the cops, blown up their cars and suffocated three of them. After that, Katsuki barely remembered stumbling off with his friends on his back.

Rusty listened to everything without questioning anything. When Katsuki was done, Rusty took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought. Katsuki could almost see the gears turning in Rusty's head. It weirded him out. Finally, Rusty stood and made a gesture to follow him. Katsuki did, growling quietly to himself.

Riptide sat in the other room, chatting with some punk chick. When they entered, Riptide's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Boss, please tell me you brought him here to teach him a lesson."

Rusty never said a word. Katsuki didn't even have time to blink before Riptide was on the ground screaming in agony and clutching his neck. Rusty sat in a chair at the table Riptide had been sitting at beforehand, but nothing had changed; he still couldn't give a fuck if he tried. Katsuki smiled as he felt shivers run down his spine. The girl had tried to help Riptide, but not without a glance at Rusty for the okay. After the screaming thug had been dragged out of the room, Rusty sighed and motioned for Katsuki to sit down. When Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets instead, Rusty just shrugged.

"Back in the day, things were simpler. The police had a serious force, and people like us were at war if we ever stepped out in a group. Nowadays, you can do whatever you like if you're willing to fight a bit. If you can win. Riptide… he's been a problem for a while now. He tells a story, then three people tell me a different story. I don't like liars, or people willing to sacrifice my crew for their own whims." Rusty stated. His eyes settled on Katsuki. "My quirk allows me to rust metal. When I was younger, I was pretty good. Then I realized that the more I could use my quirk, the more power I'd have over this place."

Katsuki's eyes widened. Something didn't seem right about that; blood and bone weren't metal, and rust… His eyes scrunched up as he met Rusty's stare. Slowly Rusty began to smile; unlike Katsuki, who smiled out of anticipation and fear, Rusty seemed to enjoy the look on Katsuki's face. Or maybe he was thinking of Riptide.

"After a while, I could do a little bit with the metals in concrete… and once the metal was gone the concrete just sort of rotted away. The stronger I got, the more I could affect and the more I could push my limits. One day, though, I got mad and I used this on a person. It's not really the same… but it's not a joke. Do you know what happens when your bone rots inside your skin?" Katsuki trembled as Rusty's grin grew, slowly, with his speech. "First it poisons your blood… then it starts breaking down and the muscles attached there go slack as they lose their anchor… But it's the blood that really gets to you. Blood poisoning is a serious problem."

"You just put one of your own guys in the hospital…?" Katsuki snarled, still trembling. He couldn't move; he knew that. But Rusty shrugged at his words.

"He was a liability. And he broke the rules I laid down for everyone in my crew." Rusty fixed him with a serious look. "On the other hand… we found you stumbling around, half dead and carrying three people on your back in the alleys a block away. You didn't give them up to save you own skin."

Katsuki cursed under his breath. Rusty stood up, and extended a hand to him. Katsuki's eyes went wide, but Rusty's hand stopped halfway. The mania seemed to have disappeared, but he was sure that somewhere along the way Rusty had lost his mind.

"There seems to be an opening in the gang. You want in?" Rusty's eyes sparkled as he stared Katsuki down.