Mina's desperate sprint up from the Depths was like one long held breath, a constant bracing for something to happen. A chase, an attack, some signal of the apocalypse she now knew was brewing beneath the city.

But there was nothing. She made the trip back to Aegis in frantic silence, alone in the dark except for the sound of her own breathing. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

She made it back to Aegis in record time. Instead of bothering with the front door, she simply used her usual route-straight up the side of the building via handholds now well-melted into the very stone, and right into the window of Izuku's office.

She slipped inside quietly, but the man in the high-backed chair behind the desk still noticed her. Somehow, even with his back turned, he knew who she was.

"Mina," Ejiro breathed, relief plain in his voice as he swung to face her. "It's good to see you alive. You really had us worried."

Mina blinked in surprise, followed by worry. "Ejiro?" she asked, confused. "What are you doing in here? Where's Izuku?"

Ejiro winced a little at that, but before he could explain, another voice piped up from one of the other chairs. A short, black-haired girl stood in alarm, asking, "What the-Red Riot, who's that?"

Always skittish at the best of times-and these definitely weren't the best of times-Mina jumped backwards in alarm, acid pooling in her hands before she even knew what she was doing. Luckily, she saw the look on Ejiro's face; more irritation than shock, and an apologetic set to his eyes.

"Mina, it's fine," he told her reassuringly. "This is Akari-one of the heroes here. Akari, this is Atlas's girlfriend, Mina."

The girl-Akari-made an understanding sound as she nodded her head. "Oh, yeah, that makes sense," she said, with the slightly embarrassed tone of a young, eager student. "Uh…nice to meet you?"

Mina raised an eyebrow. Without responding to Akari, she turned to Ejiro, and asked, "Why is she here?"

Ejiro heaved a long-suffering sigh that Mina had rapidly become very familiar with, shook his head, and muttered, "It's a long fucking story. But you don't have to worry; she knows everything, and she's trustworthy."

Mina still hesitated, but honestly, she had far bigger issues at the moment than whatever was going on there. "Okay," she said bluntly, drying off her hands on her acid-proof clothing, "Now, Ejiro, where is Izuku?"

Ejiro nodded. "At a gala across town," he replied.

Mina blinked. "What the fuck?" she demanded. "Why? Fumi's going to be attacking tonight!"

Ejiro's eyes widened, ever so slightly. "Wait, you're sure?" he said. When Mina nodded, he asked, "How do you know?"

Mina snorted. "I infiltrated their base, obviously," she replied dryly.

Akari made a shocked noise at that, while Ejiro-already used to Izuku's bullshit as he was, and rapidly becoming inoculated against Mina's-merely raised an eyebrow. Then, he cursed under his breath.

"We're not ready," he said. "We've evacuated most of the civilians from the lower levels at this point, but we need more time to get the rest out-not helped by the fact that the fucking mayor is the one throwing that gala, and he's refused to help get the word out!"

"Oh," Mina said, suddenly understanding. "That's why Izuku's there, isn't he? He didn't have a choice."
Ejiro nodded heavily. "Yeah," he agreed, before turning to Akari. "Holo!" he barked, getting her attention. "Uravity and Creati should be on patrol in the Market district. Find them and warn them of the situation-tell them to rally as many heroes as they can, because things are going to get fucking hairy out there if we can't get Izuku out of that fucking party before the Outcasts attack."

Akari, to her credit, didn't hesitate or ask any questions. She simply nodded and sprinted straight past Mina, flowing out the window and onto a surfboard-shaped platform of razor-thin glowing light that appeared right beneath her feet. Without a word, she was speeding away, dodging corners and disappearing from view in seconds.

Mina and Ejiro exchanged a look. "I'll say this for the kid," Ejiro sighed. "Nosy as she is, she's a damn good hero."

Mina raised an eyebrow, though whether it was at the inherent contradiction she saw in the term "good hero," or at something else, she wasn't sure. "What is she, eighteen?" she pointed out. "That's not all that much younger than we are. Why are you calling her kid?"

Ejiro snorted. "Because she is," he said, more somberly as he went on. "She's well-trained, but she didn't fight in a war like me and Izuku, or survive the wrath of the Depths like you did."

Mina nodded at that. Izuku, Ochako, Momo…her and Mezou…even Fumi…they were young, yes, but they were veterans and survivors, hardened and tempered by a lifetime of war before they turned twenty-five. Akari…hadn't been. That wasn't a bad thing at all-nobody should have to grow up like they did-but it meant she was…different. Greener, maybe.

A dark thought crossed her mind. "If she survives tonight, she'll have done both," she pointed out.

Ejiro met her eyes, and for a moment, he was not the easygoing, smiling man who'd accepted her so readily, or the grinning force of nature he was as a hero. He was a scarred, tired man who'd fought one war, only to end up leading another.

"If," he murmured darkly. Mina nodded, knowing all the unsaid things that accompanied that single word.

None of them might make it through the night. Not her, not Ejiro…not Izuku.

"What do we do now?" she asked. "I've gotten a few reinforcements on their way here, but they're not going to be here for a little while."

Ejiro looked like he wanted to ask what she meant by reinforcements, but clearly decided he had too much to say to bother. Instead, he replied, "Well, I've been coordinating with half a dozen hero agencies already-we're not ready, exactly, but we at least know an attack's coming, so we'll be able to fight back. Do you have anything else you can tell me about what the Outcasts have planned?"

Mina shook her head regretfully. "I had to beat a pretty quick retreat," she said. Ejiro sighed.

"Fair enough," he told her. "Just…we really need Izuku right now. He's better at this shit than I am-on top of everything else he's better at. I'm much more of a frontline brawler than, well…a leader."

Mina shrugged, but she couldn't help but chuckle as she realized the opportunity she had. Maybe it didn't fit with how dire their situation was…but seeing Ejiro like this, scared and stressed and worked nearly to the breaking point, just felt unnatural.

So, she dryly cracked, "Apparently one of those things he's better at is the fairer sex, too, if I'm anything to judge by…"

Ejiro raised an eyebrow, then clapped a hand to his chest as if she'd mortally wounded him. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "Just because he went and fell in love with the most…"

Mina gave him a look, and whatever adjective he was about to use, he seemingly caught halfway, changing it to, "Unique woman in the world, doesn't mean he's better than me. Trust me, his sex life before you was…well, not."

Mina snorted at that. "If you say so," she replied. "Anyway…you need him? Then I'll go get him."

Ejiro blinked. "Mina," he said warningly, "He's at a very public event right now. More rich and powerful people than you can imagine, heavy security, every TV camera in the city…you go in there, you'll get seen, guaranteed."

Mina nodded, crossing her arms. "I know," she said heavily. "But I'm tired of hiding. And like you said, we need him to survive the night."

Ejiro looked like he wanted to protest, but visibly thought better of it. "Okay," he sighed. "Just…make sure your entrance is suitably dramatic, all right? I want Izuku's stupid face to be plastered on TV screens for the next decade."

Mina couldn't help but giggle at the thought. "Don't worry," she said loftily. "I'll be sure to leave him speechless."

Ejiro grinned. "Good. He looks like an idiot when you surprise him."

Mina was mid-laugh when the lights went out. For a second, she and Ejiro just stared at each other in the darkness, frozen. Then, there was an unearthly sound-louder than a jet engine, a wild, terrifying shriek of pure rage that filled the air, covered the whole city like a suffocating blanket.

As one, obeying very different-but also similar-instincts, they raced towards the window.

What they saw was a demon out of a nightmare. A monster made of shadow, swallowing the horizon, all smoky limbs and screeching jaws and talons the size of buildings, destroying everything in its path. All around it, tiny shapes were moving, like ants swarming over tree branches. An army.

It was too big to really comprehend, especially in the all-encompassing black. They could only really get glimpses of it-a swinging arm, a wide-stretched jaw, the way it carved apart whole buildings without even really meaning to. This-this was a monster in the truest sense, a thing made of congealed darkness and nightmares.

"My god," Ejiro breathed as the worst came to pass. "That's…"

He trailed off, too awestruck, too terrified, too understanding to speak. Ejiro had watched demigods clash in the ruins of Deika City, had watched his best friend destroy the closest thing to an avatar of evil Japan had ever seen-and he was still shocked by the monster that now loomed over the city.

Mina had grown up knowing the face that was now distorted and screeching hellishly over the city. She had called it her brother. She had watched those glowing eyes as she was thrown over a cliff to her doom.

She nodded numbly. The hairs on the back of her neck were up, her whole body on a hair-trigger. Fight or flight reactions. "Fumi," she agreed, barely above a whisper. "He's here."

Mina and Ejiro shared a look; they knew that they were out of time. But Mina knew Fumikage better. She knew that, for all his rage, for all his fury, he was no unthinking beast. He had a purpose. More than that, there was no way that Fumi would do this without-

Mina's eyes went wide as she spotted motion outside the window, a ragged black shape leaping from building to building-aiming right for them. She shouted, "EJIRO, GET DOW-"

Too late. The window exploded, and Mina ducked under whirling razor blades, missing decapitation by half an inch. Kamakiri, his eyes glowing with hate, burst through the shattering glass, moving too fast for the eye to see, all glinting blades and abrupt brutality.

Mina's self-preservation instincts saved her…but Kamakiri wasn't here for her. And his true target had far weaker instincts.

Mina leaped to her feet, acid pooling in her palms, only to freeze in horror as she finally registered the weak choking sound coming from across the room, where Kamakiri had tackled Ejiro into the wall. Kamakiri grinned savagely as Ejiro's eyes bugged out, his whole body transfixed as he tried to make sense of the blade buried deep in his neck, slashed lengthwise across his throat.

Kamakiri's expression was full of savage glee as the hero went still, shock still visible in his eyes. His surprise had been total-and fatal.

"I got you, you bastard," Kamakiri hissed, his voice gloating. Mina couldn't move. She couldn't even think. She was frozen, stuck watching Ejiro die.

Somehow, impossibly, Ejiro raised his eyes to meet hers. She saw the shock in them, saw the light that was starting to fade.

"Go," he mouthed, eyes full of an emotion Mina couldn't place. "Find Izuku."

All the things they'd said, the abrupt shift from mirth to horror, all of it came crashing down on Mina in an instant. She wanted to fight. She wanted to rage. It had all come too fast, but Mina refused to be numb. Not for Izuku's best friend. The war she'd feared was here, and it had already taken so much from them both. What more did they have to give?

But she knew Ejiro was right. Izuku needed to know. Izuku needed to be ready. And if they won today, Mina would make sure that Kamakiri died screaming.

That would be her vengeance. Mina nodded once, as Ejiro used his remaining strength to grab at Kamakiri's blade, making sure she could get away.

Mina slipped away out the window, tears beading in her eyes, and was gone. Her heart was burning, burning with the same venom she'd felt when her hands had been around Himiko Toga's neck.

Someone would die for this.

When the lights went out, Akari nearly crashed face-first into the side of a building.

She cursed as the abrupt, total darkness swallowed everything; only the few glowing emergency panels lining the streets remained active, providing barely enough light to see her own hand in front of her face.

Akari pressed a button on her mask, instantly activating the night-vision mode. Once more, the world opened up.

When it showed her what was swarming down from the sheer rock walls around the city, she almost wished it had stayed closed.

Mutants were pouring into the Underground, thousands of them, swooping in on wings and paws and engines. Dark, misshapen things were appearing in the streets, laughing as the sound of screams began to fill the city. And all of it, all the terror, paled in comparison to the monstrosity looming over the city, so large even her night-vision couldn't possibly track it. It seemed to fill the whole stone sky, a dark mass of claws and wings and screeching jaws, sweeping through the city and tearing into anything in its path.

Akari forced herself to look away. She was so close to the Market district; she had to get there, army be damned. Red Riot had trusted her with a message-a message Uravity and Creati probably didn't need, at this point, but still. And failing that…she was a hero, and the Market district was relatively lightly defended. They needed backup…and she was all that was coming.

So, Akari put her head down, and sped through the rapidly-burning city, determined to do her duty.

As she leaped between buildings-knowing that the speeding surfboard she'd have preferred would draw too much attention-she saw heroes boiling out to face the mutants, forming lines and shepherding terrified civilians backwards; where they were going, she didn't know. The mutants were emerging from everywhere, slipping from holes the heroes hadn't even known about. They'd all be surrounded, attacked from behind; chaos would be spreading from one end of the city to the other. And of course, any defense they mounted was pointless, so long as the sky-filling kaiju rampaging through the city was on the loose; that thing would sweep any heroes aside with ease.

Still, Akari ran with everything she had. She made it so close, too. But then, something whistled through the air like a knife, headed straight for her back.

She heard it just in time to twist, so that instead of burying itself in her spine, the object carved a gash into the outside of her shoulder instead. The shock and pain made her stumble; instead of landing smoothly on the roof she was aiming for, she struck it awkwardly and rolled, knocking the wind out of her and battering her body against the stone.

Whatever had hit her whizzed away again, but Akari knew better than to lie there; she was on her feet again in seconds, clutching her bleeding arm and ignoring her screaming ribs as she hurled herself aside. A moment later, twelve sharp objects slammed into the ground where she'd been lying.

This time, she got a good look at them; they were maybe a foot long and blood red, shaped like…

Feathers?

The whistling sound came again; this time, Akari summoned a wall of light around her with barely a gesture. More feathers slammed into it, making the shield creak, but not break.

Akari heard another sound, then; beating wings. Looking up, she saw her attacker.

"Terribly sorry about this," the slim, youngish-looking man with enormous wings and blond hair told her. He landed lightly on the other side of the roof, wickedly sharp, curved feather-swords in his hands. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you."

An oddly formal way to announce your murderous intent, that. Akari grunted, and a disc of solid light suddenly flung itself at the man, only for him to almost lazily dodge it. Another whistle, and the disc was smashed apart by what could only be another one of his feathers.

A second volley of feathers shot towards her, and she blocked them with a lightwall again; this time, though, it had been cover for the man to charge. Akari's eyes widened as he leaped over her wall, twin swords stabbing downwards towards her.

Her arms went up, and instead the two blades slammed into either end of a long, glowing bo staff; the man's eyes widened a fraction as he found himself locked in a clash of weapons, until Akari forced him back with another projectile.

"Ah, pardon me," he said apologetically. "I forgot, it's terribly rude to try and kill someone without proper introductions first! My name is Keigo. I'm a member of the Outcasts. And who are you?"

Akari wasn't sure if this man was insane, or if he was merely playing with her, but either way, she was not about to lay down and die. She was a hero, dammit.

"My name is Holo," she hissed, body braced, fingers glowing ever so faintly as they gripped the staff. "And I'm going to beat you."

Keigo grinned. "Oh, I have no doubt you'll try," he replied. "Well, then. Let's have some fun, Holo!"

His wings flapped, and suddenly he was airborne again. A shower of feathers slammed downwards, and Akari was fighting for her life.

Even so, she was still smiling.

In the center of the market district, Ochako and Momo watched with horror as the lights went out, and the enormous monster erupted into being in their city.

Of course, the twenty mutants that ambushed them from hidden tunnels less than a minute later were a pretty good confirmation that they were under attack, in case the kaiju wasn't good enough.

Honestly, twenty? Ochako thought that that was just insulting. Didn't they know who they were dealing with?

Once that group was all on the ground, unconscious, tied up, or both, Ochako and Momo only needed one glance at the already-crumbling buildings the monster was tearing into, the horde of mutants pouring into the city, visible even from this distance, and all the screams and shouts of a war erupting to know how fucked they were.

"Well," Ochako said, glancing at Momo. "We're in some deep shit now, aren't we?"

Momo raised an eyebrow. "Deep shit" is an understatement," she replied dryly. "We're surrounded by enemies, massively outnumbered, being attacked by an eighty-foot-tall shadow monster, and the only man capable of stopping that shadow monster is stuck in a high-society gala at the other end of town."

Ochako snorted. "I prefer my description," she decided. "It's shorter."

Momo shrugged. "Whatever you say," she said in the oddly formal way that she used when her mind was a million miles away, planning.

Ochako glanced behind them. There were a dozen other heroes with them, from various agencies; the cooperative patrols they'd set up had been hastily-arranged and rushed, sure, but the heroes of Musutafu, and the Underground in particular, were used to that. They'd managed. Even now, as their world was burning around them, these dozen were simply waiting expectantly, seemingly certain that the legendary Uravity and Creati would come up with a plan to win.

A brief jolt of absurd laughter rushed through Ochako at that. The part of her that would always be a poor, hungry girl from a tiny little town found this whole situation hilarious; heroes, hanging on her every word? Her, a famous-and rich-heroine, looked up to and admired all across the country.

Madness. Almost as mad as the monster tearing through this city, or the Underground itself.

Finally, Momo stopped looking at whatever device she'd created, presumably to tap into the tactical Hero Commission network. "Alright, here's the plan," she announced, looking towards the other heroes. "Half of you, come with me. We need to get to Atlas, and get him out of that damn party. After that, we'll get the mayor to safety-I have no doubt he'll be one of the targets. I haven't been able to contact Red Riot-or anyone else at Aegis-so be ready to fight our way through any Outcasts we come across. Uravity, you take the other six and head towards the far end of the Market district-we don't have anyone there yet. Find as many civilians as you can and get them heading towards the Grand Elevators; they're already operating in emergency evacuation mode, and they've been secured by a team from Rampart Agency."

Ochako nodded as the other heroes made noises of assent. "Any other advice?" she asked Momo.

Momo met her eyes, and something that would have been a smile if they weren't so utterly screwed crossed her face. She answered, "Don't get killed."

With that, she headed off with her team, and Ochako broke into a dead sprint, accompanied by her own.

They got barely four blocks before they made contact with the enemy. A wall of mutants were barreling down a wide avenue, sending tourists and civilians screaming ahead of them. It was madness, chaos in its purest form; even Ochako's trained, experienced senses could only catch snippets. A rampage here, a desperate flight there…there were fewer casualties than she'd half expected, and most of them seemed to be minor heroes. The mutants seemed to be avoiding civilian casualties. That was as much of a blessing as she dared ask for.

As they began to send civilians toward the Grand Elevators, Ochako paused for a moment as two other heroes took on a large man who seemed to be made mostly of brick. Nodding towards another hero, she idly asked, "How much you wanna bet this is gonna get worse?"

The young man-clearly fresh on the job, perhaps six months graduated from a hero school-blinked. "Uh…I don't think it will, Uravity," he replied. "I think we'll be okay."

Naturally, that was when the row of townhouses down the street exploded, and a second wave of mutants surged through the gap, racing down the rapidly-emptying street and towards the defensive line the heroes had established.

That wasn't the worst of it, though. That was the mutant at the forefront of the attack-though it took a second for Ochako to realize that it was a mutant. A tidal wave of vines had overrun the broken ruins of the townhouses, a seething, writhing bed of thorns that raced down the street, cracking stone and burying buildings as it came towards them. And at the center, riding the crest of the swelling vines as if it were water, was a woman. Her hair flowed outwards into the living tide, every movement accompanied by the colossal tendrils, every expression on her face followed by a fresh surge in the growing vines.

The worst part of all, though, was her face. It was perfectly normal-quite pretty, even. And it was marred by the purest, most burning expression of hatred Ochako had ever seen. This woman-who looked like a demigoddess, an inhumanly powerful being as only a few quirks ever managed-was a fountain of righteous anger, a glowing nexus of rage that her men seemed to feed off of, and that Ochako understood perfectly.

She'd worn that expression before. She'd been that woman before. And now she had to stop her.

The woman raised an arm, and pointed straight at them. She shouted, "Destroy them!"

The response was a wordless howl from the mutants, all of whom charged as one towards the thin line of heroes, accompanied by vines so numerous and powerful they shattered the stone as they surged forwards.

Just before they struck the line, Ochako gave the hero who had spoken a long-suffering look, and chuckled, "Lesson one, rookie: never assume it can't get any worse."

And then the world collapsed into nothing but blood and death.

The Grand Elevators were a symbol of Musutafu, their legendary speed and efficiency a point of pride for the whole city-well, the half of it that was allowed to ride them, that is.

And they'd need every last bit of that fabled speed today.

It had been barely fifteen minutes since the power had been severed-the Elevators were connected to the aboveground grid, a failsafe that was proving its life-saving necessity today-and already, the terminals were packed full of people, desperately trying to flee the Underground as the streets ran red. They were like rats, fleeing the ship, and try as they might to get every last person through the doors and out into the sun as quickly as possible, the operators were simply contending with too many people to move fast enough.

And of course, the mutants knew the importance of the Elevators, too. Cut them off, and everyone in the city would be trapped-hostages to the Outcasts. The heroes knew it, and had set up rings of defenses around the Elevators, their only line of reinforcement and evacuation.

In response, Fumikage had sent a single man-Chojuro Kon.

The Chimera and his squad crashed through the heroes' lines, sending them flying with a blood-curdling howl. Hastily-erected wooden barricades splintered and shattered under his paws like kindling. Behind him, the rest of the Ten Kings' wedge followed him into the breach, blades and claws and teeth flashing as they laid into the heroes. The other mutants were bad enough for the heroes, but none of them could even hope to stop Kon himself. Their attacks bounced off the nine-foot monster like pebbles off a tank, barely even irritating him.

Kon punched one of the masked figures in the gut, making him crumple to the ground, coughing up blood. A second hero charged him, only to be lazily backhanded and sent flying into a building.

To the heroes' credit, they didn't run. Kon found himself impressed by that, in a way. It didn't stop him from cutting through them like a hot knife through butter, of course, but he could still acknowledge that it took serious guts to stand up to him, the avatar of everything these heroes feared and hated the most.

Despite their courage, it took less than thirty seconds for the heroes to fold completely, their line shattering as they were driven back by the sheer force of Kon's onslaught. Soon, he stood alone in the middle of the street, panting with exertion. Drawing himself up to his full height, Kon threw the limp figure of another hero aside, leaving the man to groan weakly on the side of the street.

That had been the last line of defense. Before him, Kon saw the enormous glass doors to the terminal itself, beckoning him like the gateway to another world.

He was closer than he'd ever been to the sky; he wondered what it would be like, to live in a world that didn't end, that was blue and bright and warm. Maybe he'd see it someday.

But for now, there was one last obstacle.

There were four heroes somehow still standing, clustered tightly in front of the doors; on the other side, there was nothing but civilians. Nobody to stop Kon from taking out the Elevators themselves.

Not one of those last heroes was unhurt; they had broken limbs, bloodstained costumes, terrified eyes. Not that it really mattered; they would have all died even if they were untouched. None of them could stop Kon.

Kon chuckled. "You bastards really don't know when to quit, do ya?" he grunted.

There was no response. The heroes just raised fists, or summoned weapons. Kon, though, wasn't in that sort of mood. He simply opened his jaws, and took a nice, deep breath.

The heroes trembled when they saw the orange flames brewing in Kon's throat, but still, they didn't move.

But before Kon opened fire, there were footsteps. Heavy and rapid, making the earth shake with every thud. Too heavy to be a man-a normal one, anyway.

Kon started to turn his head, trying to pick out the source of the footsteps in the pitch-black. But before he could, the blur was on him, and a fist larger and stronger than any he'd ever been hit by before slammed into his lower jaw.

The impact snapped his head back, and Kon lost control of his fire-breath in shock. An enormous jet of fire erupted upwards into the air, to the screams of the civilians inside the terminal. For a brief moment, the mad darkness was illuminated, thrown into dancing shadows of smoke by the sheer heat and light of Kon's breath.

Kon reeled backwards, completely blindsided, and his attacker didn't even stop moving; they just shoulder-charged him at top speed, a gargantuan blur of black and white.

Kon went flying, and landed hard on the asphalt. He was on his feet again in a blur; decades of street fights had made him understand that staying down was a death sentence. His eyes snapped up, blood-red and full of murderous intent.

Who the hell had hit him? No hero could punch like that-and whoever had slammed into him was too big to be a hero, anyway; they'd been nearly as large as Kon himself. That meant…

Kon's teeth were bared a second later when he saw who it was. It might have been a smile-but his deadly eyes stayed the same.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled. "I thought the Outcasts killed you, you bastard."

His attacker's expression was hard to read; having the head of a killer whale didn't lend itself well to human body language. His eyes, though-those were clear as day. And as Kugo Sakamata stood between the Chimera and the Elevators, his enormous bulk a wall between monsters and the innocent, his eyes were like steel.

"You know me, Chimera," Kugo said, a murderous grin similar to Kon's slipping into place. "I don't die easy."

Kon laughed. Oh, he'd been half-expecting some bright-eyed youngster, trying to live up to stories of dragonslayers, trying to protect people. But Kugo…oh, Kon sure knew him. All old gangsters knew each other, by reputation if nothing else. And what a reputation Kugo had had, back in the day.

"Oh, I know you, Kugo," Kon said mockingly, licking his lips. "And I know you may not die easy, but you fool easy. What do you think you're gonna do, getting in my way? You think you're gonna be a hero?"

Kugo snorted. "Of course not," he replied. "I ain't a hero. Never will be. But I'm here, and I'm needed. That's enough."

Kugo's men growled, starting to close in on the solitary figure of the orca-man. Before they could get close enough to strike, though, Kon raised his hand, and they stopped.

Kugo's face didn't show it, but his eyes shifted. He knew why Kon had stopped them. Kon was perfectly happy to let his troops slaughter their way through lesser mooks-but a man like Kugo deserved better than being mobbed. This-this was more than one tiny battle in the war raging all around them. This was a Depths tradition, going out in one last blaze of glory as the world changed forever. Man against man, monster against monster, legend against legend-and to the victor go the spoils.

The last duel.

Kon stepped forwards, drawing closer to Kugo, who did nothing but tighten his fists. The sounds of battle raged everywhere in the Underground, a city burning around them, monsters and demigods shattering the stone sky above. But here, there were just two men, towering over everything around them, in an odd, brief pause before the bloodshed began again. The eye of the storm.

"You're a fucking traitor, old man," Kon snarled.

Kugo's eyes hardened. "I'm not the one who's spent a lifetime selling his own kind, Kon," he answered, his voice deceptively soft.

Kon grinned. "Maybe not," he agreed. "But I know who you are, Gang Orca. You're one of the deadliest men the Claws ever had. You've spent your life killing your kind. You think that makes you any better than me?"

Kugo shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm every bit as damned as you are. But there's something else we've got in common."

Kon snorted. "Oh? What's that, you old fool?" he demanded.

Kugo met his eyes as he lowered himself into a fighting stance. For a moment, Kon felt something stir in his chest; it might have been respect, were he not getting ready to rip Kugo's heart from his chest. Or perhaps the respect was because of that.

Kugo smiled, ever so slightly. "Simple," he said. "We're both old fools. You and I, we're just stupid, damned old men fighting a young man's war."

"Let's end it, then," Kon growled, eyes alive with murderous delight.

Kugo's eyes were just as bright, just as hateful, as Kon lunged towards him, claws outstretched. He caught Kon's fist on his shoulder, ignoring the wounds Kon's claws opened as they raked across his skin, and buried his own fist in Kon's gut.

"Yes," he agreed through gritted, monstrous teeth. "Let's."

Mina would never be able to explain how she made it across the city as it tore itself apart.

She was on pure autopilot, finding handholds and footholds by sheer instinct, acid flowing and melting into stone without even registering it. Her mind was a whirling storm, but at the center was the calm of a single thought: she was going to reach Izuku. She was going to make it to the only safe place she'd ever known.

She passed over streets stained red with blood, over desperate, bloody struggles between mutants and heroes, past a thousand little battles for life and death. She barely even saw them. Even as Fumi screeched in the background, tearing his way through heroes and buildings alike, she kept her eyes facing forwards, never looking back.

At some point, she was chased. Men with wolves' heads howled after her, women with wings and talons swooped down to intercept her. She didn't care. All of them either fell far behind, shaken by her whirling, gravity-defying sprint along sheer walls and up buildings, or if they persisted, got a nice blob of acid to the face for their trouble.

Finally, as she drew near, there was only one pursuer left-and one she recognized. The gargoyle-man from the complex where she'd attacked Toga, all those weeks ago. It felt like a different lifetime, and yet, he was there, hurling his spears-and, worst of all, floating in the air directly between her and the enormous hall where the gala was taking place.

At that point, Mina was sprinting full-out along a long, high roof, nearing the edge-beyond it, there was only open air, the enormous glass window of the hall filling her vision, and the gargoyle-man, his arm stretched back to throw, his expression gleeful.

Mina gritted her teeth as a spear slammed down a foot in front of her, forcing her to jump aside as she raced towards the edge.

She had one option. One chance, one mad leap to get to Izuku. She was done letting people keep her from him.

It wasn't a matter of if she could do it. It was a matter of whether or not she could live if she didn't at least try, and she knew the answer to that.

She reached the edge. She jumped.

The gargoyle looked up at her in shock as she reached the apex of her leap, his arm still poised to throw, one last spear in his grip. She was so close to him, he couldn't possibly miss.

She felt the spear clip her cheek, opening up a bleeding groove. She didn't care. She was in free fall, seemingly frozen in midair; it was as if the whole world was holding its breath.

The man cried out as she crashed into him; he screamed as her acid-coated hands grabbed his face. His wings folded, and he plummeted from the air, driven backwards by Mina's momentum.

Together, grappling, they crashed through the great glass window, and into the building.

To the partygoers' credit, they didn't panic when the lights went out.

That was about all the respect Izuku was willing to give them; instead of panicking, an outraged shout rose from the crowd, as though the power outage was a personal insult, and the electrical grid would shortly be hearing from their lawyers.

As a chorus of complaints rose, Takao stood, calling for attention and desperately trying to be heard over the shouting. He finally managed to call out, "Please, everyone, remain calm! I'm sure it's just a minor issue, and it will be resolved shortly, I assure you!"

Izuku doubted that. One glance out the massive window, and it was clear that this was a city-wide outage. Only the hum of backup generators had kept the smaller emergency lights in the gala hall itself on; there were no chandeliers, no string lights, nothing.

A power outage in the whole city? That was too much of a coincidence to take, not on a night like tonight. Every instinct in Izuku's body was screaming that that was the moment he'd been bracing for all night.

He stood, marching towards Takao as the mayor tried desperately to soothe the crowd. He seemed to be stressed beyond belief; presumably he didn't like the thought of the bad press he'd get for such a faux pas at his gala.

Rats, all of them. These were the people Izuku was supposed to protect from the Outcasts?

"Takao," he said, trusting in his stature and costume to make people listen. Sure enough, his voice carried, and soon both Takao and a large portion of the crowd around him were looking at him.

Takao beamed as he approached; loudly, he said, "Ah, Atlas, just the man I was looking for! Tell them this is just a simple issue-a faulty circuit breaker or something! All is well, I'm sure!"

Izuku crossed his arms. He didn't even have to think to respond-he was already a million miles away, trying to uncover the Outcasts' plans. He had a horrible suspicion it wouldn't matter.

"Actually," he said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. "I'm pretty sure we're under attack. I suggest evacuating these people to the basement of the building."

That sent a ripple of fear through the whole room. Once more, things threatened to devolve into chaos, people in fancy clothes beginning to panic, only for Takao to shout them all down. "QUIET!" he roared, then continued in his usual simpering voice, "Atlas, I'm sure you're just being paranoid! We're perfectly safe here!"

Takao's smile no longer reached his eyes; he was glaring at Izuku, promising retribution so clearly he didn't need to say a single word for Izuku to understand the intent. Unfortunately for Takao, he simply no longer cared.

Izuku never got a chance to respond; instead, something came barreling through the circular window of the hall, shattering the whole thing into jagged pieces that rained down on guests.

Instantly, Takao's control shattered; the whole room seemed to scream in panic, pulling back from the struggling figure-no, two figures, Izuku realized. Two people, seemingly in the midst of a brawl, had crashed through the glass, and onto the raised dais at the end of the hall, where Mayor Takao was presumably supposed to have given a speech.

People in dresses and tuxedos scrambled backwards towards safety as one of the figures stumbled to their feet; the other one wasn't moving, an enormous, misshapen lump on the ground. For a moment, it was like a spell had been cast on the room; every face was turned to the dais, to the hooded, cloaked figure who watched them all, every breath held in anticipation of… something.

Then, their hood fell back, revealing pink skin, and Izuku's eyes went wide.

When Izuku saw Mina standing there, for a moment, he forgot it all. He forgot the screaming of the partygoers, the raging storm on the other side of the shattered window, the monster made of shadow and smoke he could already see tearing his city apart. There was only Mina, her cloak thrown back, her mask nowhere to be seen, her pink skin bared to the flashing lights of the cameras that drank in the scene like black holes lined up against the far wall.

The smile on her face was cracked and worn; she looked like she hadn't slept in a day, blood was trickling from a cut on her cheek, and there seemed to be tears in her eyes.

She was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. In that moment, he was reminded of the stray thought he'd had the first time he'd seen Mina's unique, gorgeous face; in another time, in another place, she would have been a queen.

"Fuck "another time," Izuku amended to himself. "She's a queen now."

Without even realizing it, he stepped forwards, white cloak swirling around him as he sliced effortlessly through the whirling chaos of the collapsing party. People fell in behind him, went still as he stepped forwards to meet the intruder. The camera flashes grew brighter, as they always did, wherever he went. He was Atlas-of course they followed him, like planets orbiting a star.

He stopped before her, lightning flashing across his skin. The world seemed to hold his breath, hundreds of people hanging on his every movement as they waited for him to challenge the invader, to throw the mutant out, to do something.

Mina met his eyes, and smiled. There was nothing somber or painful about this smile; for a fragment of a second, there was only joy on her face, the sort of relief only someone who had forgotten what home felt like finding it at last can feel.

She stepped forward, and before Izuku could do anything, she grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips to his.

Izuku's eyes went wide, but there was nothing he could do but relish this one last moment of peace; even as the camera flashes and shocked gasps behind them made it clear they would never know it again.

Mina pulled back, and Izuku opened his mouth to stammer, to ask questions, to wonder why she'd just done what she did. But before he could, she put her finger to his lips, and smiled once more-just for the two of them.

"I told you I wouldn't run away," she said. "I told you I'd come back."

Izuku could only nod dumbly, he was so overwhelmed by relief and joy and abject shock all at once.

"God, it's good to see you," he murmured. "But, Mina, you just-"

"I know what I just did," she replied. "And I couldn't care less. Let them see us."

Izuku couldn't help but smile at the strength in her voice, then. This was the Mina he loved, the one who came out of every nightmare, every tragedy, with golden eyes gleaming and defiant, raging kindness at her core. This Mina could tear the world apart, and rebuild it however she wanted. This was the only woman he'd ever love.

At last, the moment ended. There was still a war to fight, one he wasn't sure he could win. But now…now he had a chance.

"What's the situation?" he asked, glancing at the raging darkness outside."

Mina looked worried, but she answered, "Bad. Fumi turned into…that. I don't know how far he's gone-or if he's even still in there. This…he might have given Dark Shadow control. And if he has…the only way to stop him is probably to kill him."

Izuku nodded numbly. "I don't want to do that," he admitted. "Anything else?"

Mina's eyes glinted at his admission; they both knew they disagreed on that-one of their many little ironies-and they both knew this wasn't the time to argue about it. "Most of the city is crawling with Outcasts at this point," she told him. "Ochako and Momo are apparently in the Market district, but I don't know how they're doing. Ejiro is…"

Mina hesitated. She didn't know how to say it. How could she say it? It had happened so fast, she still barely believed it herself. And yet…Ejiro was…

Izuku snorted. "Ejiro's fine," he assured her. "I'm sure he is."

Mina shook her head. "No, Izuku, he's-" she insisted, only for Izuku to raise a hand.

"Mina," he said quietly. "I have known Ejiro for most of my life. He's a tough bastard. Whatever you think happened, we'll all be laughing about it in a week, I'm sure of it."

Mina opened her mouth to argue…then stopped. She wanted to believe. And now wasn't the time.

"Anything I can do?" she asked.

Izuku nodded, then gestured with his head towards…the mayor?

"Get him out of here, and into a bunker or something," he said. "It might take some convincing to get him to move, but he has to."

Mina blinked. "You….want me to protect the guy blackmailing us," she said dryly. "Why?"

Izuku met her eyes. "Because," he replied, "Whatever else he is, he's still the mayor, and if the Outcasts kill him, there will never be peace. We need to get through this night without him getting so much as a scratch."

Mina nodded reluctantly. "Fair enough," she said. "But still, why me?"

Izuku grinned, then, the kind of mildly sadistic smile that very few ever saw the Number One Hero wear.

"I didn't say the convincing had to be gentle, did I?" he asked, his voice just as dry as Mina's.

The eager smirk on Mina's face told a story all by itself.

"You are one evil motherfucker under the costume, aren't you?" she asked.

Izuku grinned. "And you love it," he replied.

Mina wasn't sure which one of them was smiling wider at this point, and she didn't really care. She simply told him, "You better believe I do."

Then, it was time. Izuku pulled away, lightning already crackling over his skin. Slowly but surely, he rose off the ground, Float activating.

It took all of a few seconds for him to become too bright to stare at directly; a green sun, rising beneath the ground. Mina stepped back as Izuku unleashed everything, holding back not a single drop of power, summoning all he had. Lightning bolts sparkled and danced, humming with deadly purpose as Izuku turned to look at the shattered window, and the monster beyond it, so vast there seemed to be no outline to it, no point where regular darkness ended and nightmare began.

This would be the fight of his life-but he was used to that.

Just before the light became too much to bear, Mina called out, "Izuku!"

The man made of thunder-the demigod hiding inside her plain, awkward, dorky boyfriend-turned to her, smile almost as blinding as his glowing body.

She met his eyes, and said, "I came back to you, like I promised. Now you come back to me, you hear me?"

Izuku's smile was sad and brilliant all at once. "Always," he whispered.

And then he was gone, a glowing streak of light shooting through the window and into the air, streaking towards the monster Mina had once owed her life to.

And the war for the Underground began in earnest.

Mina took a deep breath. She had her own part to play in this…and she might as well enjoy it.

She strode up to Takao, an evil little smile on her face.

"So," she said mildly. "You're the bastard trying to use me against my boyfriend."

Takao hadn't just lost control of the crowd-he'd lost control of his face, too. His expression was pure, unabashed hatred as he glared at Mina.

"You," he seethed. "The little mutant girl."

Mina grinned-more to bare her teeth than to show amusement. "Me," she agreed. "Now, come with me. You need to be safe for this night to have any chance of ending well."

Takao narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't?" he asked mildly.

Mina smiled wider as acid bubbled up in her hand. "Oh, be my guest," she said. "It's been a while since I've gotten to castrate somebody."

Takao was quite happy to follow her lead after that.

Meanwhile, across the city, two men grappled in the shadows of an office, blades glinting in the near-pitch black.

Kamakiri was so high on the victory of killing a Top Ten hero, he'd barely noticed the traitor's escape. He couldn't care less. That wasn't his mission. His mission had been to kill Red Riot. And he'd done it.

"How does it feel?" he taunted, batting away Ejiro's feeble attempts to push him off. He'd managed to shove the larger man right up against the wall, his blade still deep in Ejiro's neck. "To know that you've lost? We're going to take everything from you heroes, everything we should have always had."

Ejiro didn't respond. Slowly, his eyes closed, and his breathing slowed. His grip on Kamakiri's wrist gradually went slack. Flush with victory, Kamakiri made to withdraw his blade. As significant as the death of a Top Ten hero at his hands was, he had much more blood to spill today.

But the blade wouldn't move. It was stuck. Kamakiri yanked at it harder, teeth grinding in frustration.

Then, impossibly, the dead man opened his eyes, and grinned.

Ejiro bared sharp, jagged teeth as his skin crystallized, sharpening as it hardened in a wave. He seemed to grow as his outline grew deadlier, more brutal in its angles and lines. Fingers transformed into claws, and his chest-visible through his torn, shredded shirt-took on the appearance of unbreakable stone.

"About that," the impossible, unkillable hero grunted. "Sorry to spoil your fun…but it'll take more than a piddly little ambush to kill me."

Kamakiri's eyes went wide. "How?" he demanded, fighting with all his strength to free his elbow blade from what should have been a mortal blow. It wouldn't budge. Why wouldn't it budge? "How are you still alive?"

Ejiro raised his talon-like hand up, expression brutal and mocking, and Kamakiri's eyes followed it straight to the answer he'd been looking for.

As it turned out, Kamakiri had been able to move fast enough to strike Ejiro before his skin could harden. But he hadn't been fast enough. In the fraction of a fraction of a second after Kamakiri's blade broke the skin, but before it could go deep enough to be fatal, Ejiro's hardening had finally reacted, suddenly rendering his body absolutely impenetrable. Kamakiri's blade was, impossibly, now trapped in a groove not even half an inch thick in the side of Ejiro's neck, a bloodless canyon carved by the force of his deathblow. Somehow, the hero had reacted just in time to not only survive the lightning-fast attack, but to utterly trap Kamakiri's blade.

"It's simple," Ejiro grunted at Kamakiri as his jagged, clawed hand clenched around Kamakiri's blade. "I ain't planning on dying here. Not to you."

Kamakiri strained and struggled desperately, trying in vain to free his blade as Ejiro's grip tightened, getting stronger and stronger. Almost invisibly, a spiderweb of tiny cracks began spreading up and down the length of the blade as Ejiro squeezed down.

The outcome was inevitable. Kamakiri screamed in pain as his blade was shattered, ripped right off his body by Ejiro's immense strength. Around the point of the blade's snapping, metal shards dropped to the ground as Kamakiri reeled backwards, clutching his arm. Ejiro yanked the upper part of the broken blade free of his neck, revealing an empty gash.

Kamakiri hadn't even managed to make him bleed.

Scoffing disdainfully, Ejiro broke the remaining part of the blade over his hardened knee before tossing the fragments away. Then, he threw Kamakiri out the window.

Kamakiri landed with a thud on the stone, growling in pain as his ribs protested. As he hauled himself up, Ejiro leaped out after him, landing on the street below with an earth-shaking crash that didn't seem to bother him at all.

"It took some balls to try that," Ejiro told Kamakiri, a strangely eager light in his eyes. "But if you come at me…you better hope you don't miss your chance. Because you only get one."

Kamakiri groaned as he fought to stay on his feet. A fresh blade erupted from his forearm, but the pain of the shattering still lingered. His eyes were full of hate. He may have missed his best chance, but he was still one of the best fighters in the Underground. He wasn't done yet, not by a long shot.

"You'll pay for that," he spat. More blades erupted across his body, until he was bristling with deadly edges, one mistake away from slicing Ejiro to ribbons.

Ejrio grinned, hungry and brutal, jagged teeth gnashing together. He settled into a fighting stance, each man watching the other warily.

"Feel free to try and make me," he said. "But this is my city, Outcast. You want it? You're gonna have to go through me."

Kamakiri lunged, and Ejiro's forearms deflected his blades in a shower of sparks. All around them, the Underground bled.