Humid air wafts over small spills of murky liquid, precipitating and giving rise to a hissed exhalation of attenuated but serried steam. Each puddle is as dark as the sepulchral surroundings, damp echoes reverberating like fleeting footfalls. Shadows sweep the spacious zone even without a source of dim lighting, the flicker of the black void reflected by each tiny watery pool. Scratches litter the scuffed surface of the floor, the solid stone chipped and darkened like an asphalt road.

A faint illumination gives way to the black vacuous abyss. Viscous fluid percolates like a cerulean lava lamp, the hefty shape of a silhouette floating from within the cylinder tank's soft glow casting a shadow in the ever expansive umbra of darkness that is the room itself. Wires run from the bottom of the container, each cable a different color from the rest but all of them sharing the same haunting hum. Bobbing up and down to the susurrate tune, the delineated figure residing in the tank stirs with the filtrating fluid.

Attached to the purlins and the rafters that loom overhead, are a series of steel catwalks. Various metal bridges trail above as equally many cerulean containers. Hanging from the handrails is a young boy, watching with a scarlet stare obscured by long clumps of uneven hair that borders the same hue as the liquid in the tanks below him. Dried patches of skin around his eyes pull into wrinkles. He gnaws on the bottom of his chapped lip with flaxen tinged teeth. The plain black clothes covering his body helps him to blend into the dark atmosphere.

A being directly below the boy is acutely aware of the child's presence anyways. Even with a visual impairment, the lack of eyeballs to be precise, the man knows more than one may assume. Where empty sockets wallow in the marred mesh of disfigurement that is pure evil's face, is also torn tissue where a nose should be. Yet, the seated sinister force is one to be reckoned with, his heightened sense of hearing having him tilt his head to turn an ear and listen. A wicked smile graces the man's lips, presenting pearly white teeth close to ivory. The grin resides behind an as equally crystal clear ventilator mask, the respiratory support whirring with every intake of breath.

Machines buzz behind him, large consoles plugged to even bigger modems providing a life support system. The medical equipment kept grouped together produces the sounds of a hospital hall, just at a lower decibel to the point of being a quiet ambience. Oxygen pumps through a valve and circuitry connects to even more wiring. Despite all this, the collection of equipment has the presence of powering a super weapon rather than keeping a human alive. The man may have taken severe damage during the battle with his greatest rival, but he still carries a vigorous aura of villainy.

"Doctor", a terrifying tranquil tone purrs through the parted lips of the man's grin. Like a vast expanse kept still on the surface such as the ocean, a bottomless depth of doom resides below the deceptively delicate decibel of voice. Then, a wave of wrath unbridals the sea until the disturbance becomes an overwhelming force. "Status report", an authoritative switch sways all sense of direction and commands whoever gets caught in the tide to succumb to it.

Green circular lenses twist to give the man's presence an attentive look. A short statured scientist sits atop his own chair, albeit with less electronics engineered into its mechanical workings. The portly doctor wears a set of customized goggles that provide him with night vision to see in the dark, the usage of his eyes still detrimental to him unlike his master. "My liege.. The Nomu has taken to my trial and testing", the scientist smooths out his bushy mustache with one hand while using the other to operate his chair lift with a joystick, "It's finally responsive" He lowers himself to be positioned across from his creation that resides within a preservation tank.

The doctor's master broadens his grin until it's as deep as the crevices of his scarred face. "Excellent", the foreboding reply lingers in the eerie echo of the chamber before he continues, "If the nerve damage can be successfully reduced for a plentitude transference of quirks… then the next phase of my plan can commence" The bioengineered Nomu that the villain speaks of floats in its tank, a pink brain organ exposed atop its head. Gashes where more glaring results of operation cover the creature's body lay dormant with the rest of it. A broad beak full of fangs is slightly parted, the maw making for a mouth that can't speak.

"It is..", the doctor pauses to carefully consider the word he'll use to describe his progress, "Significant" His mustache furrows with the curl of his lips. "However.. Not enough for..", he proceeds with caution as he admits there's still work to be done, "Human trials."

"I see", the smile coming from the scientist's master diminishes at that news. The man taps his index finger on the armrest of his chair, done as impatiently as the movement is done thoughtfully. A moment passes before he asks with a slight leer, "What seems to be the delay, doctor?"

The doctor swallows his own spit, mouth suddenly gone dry. He nearly mistakes the saliva for blood, a copper tinge to the taste startling him. "The Nomu is primitive in its intelligence", he busies himself with explaining his creation's drawbacks in an attempt to quell his nerves, "I made it compliant with orders, it's obedient to a fault" The invention stares out at him like a dead fish from its tank, "Except.. It requires those tasks in order to function" The exposed brain stitched and stapled to the base of the monster's skull is essentially disabled. "I'm afraid it's otherwise completely without a mind of its own, unable to think for itself", the scientist looks away from the malformed beast to gauge his master's reaction.

The man hums as he mulls over the doctor's diagnosis of the Nomu. "A result of my quirk transference? The mind was not able to handle it all?", he rests his jaw on the knuckles of his propped arm after inquiring for more information.

"Partially", the doctor shifts his chair with his joystick to maneuver himself to be in front of a computer station, "While I have been working to remedy the extent to which the human body will allow such a strain of quirks.." A few taps and clicks of his keyboard pulls up schematics and other scientific jargon. "You also asked me to alter the brain to stimulate your quirk's invasion to form a symbiotic relationship", the doctor plays a simulation on the screen to show the metaphorically rotted fruits of his labor.

"And this is the result of the experiment", the doctor's master turns his head to look away from the monitor and returns his general gaze to the direction of the Nomu. Even without a set of eyes, he can somehow see. A millennia of accumulating quirks does more than enough to generate other means of sight. Whether echolocation and sonar as a bat perceives things suffices or infrared heat wave detection works, those are just a few ways to name a few.

"Trial and error, my lord..", the doctor bows as low as he can go from the confines of his chair. After paying his respect, he sits back up and repositions his seat to shift back towards his master, "I vow to resolve the issue eventually."

"We've already begun forcing memories in and out", the malicious man angles his head towards the boy in the rafters above him as he speaks. A smile begins to reshape itself across his faulted features despite his next sentence, "I don't believe we have the time necessary to dally in that department anymore, dear doctor."

The scientist scrunches up his face with confusion. Unlike his master, he is unaware of the boy's presence to find the open discussion humorous in any way. "What would you have me do?", he treads carefully as he asks for elaboration.

"We begin transferring quirks in small dosages to strengthen Tomura's immunity", the boy on the catwalk somehow flinches and freezes at the same time when he hears his name mentioned. A draft overtakes the room as though somebody opened a window, sending shivers down Tomura's spine as he bends down to hear better. The doctor feels as equally cold when his master levels an eyeless gaze with him, "I think it's about time we provide the boy with a pet, don't you?"

The mad scientist sneaks a glance towards one of his other bioengineered creations. One that he kept for himself. It's a small rendition of the Nomu, one of the failures. It cocks its head like a curious animal, its exposed brain not fully comprehending its own existence. The harmless creature makes its creator slightly protective as he pleads for it to stay with him, "Not Johnny."

"No, not Johnny", the scientist's master smirks with a hint of amusement. He folds his hands together while leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled in a tight interwoven connectivity. "I believe a dog would be more sufficient", the scientist nor Tomura are expecting that to be the villain's drawn conclusion.

"A.. dog?", the doctor makes sure that he's hearing things correctly.

"There's no better bond than between a boy and his dog", the conniving undertone behind the man's vile grin speaks of more than just getting a child a pet. "Consider this a new baseline experiment, one to further supplement the effectiveness of the end goal", and only the villain's mad scientist understands why with eyes as wide as the lens of his goggles. The decision to get Tomura a dog is self explanatory when the doctor's master says, "The only other bond that the boy has is with myself, afterall."

"The stronger the relationship, the more willing to welcome the channeling of quirks", the doctor nods along with his master's thought process before agreeing, "That could work."

"Oh, dear doctor.. I KNOW it will", the villainous response is full of malice and yet the boy in the rafters is none the wiser to his current guardian's devious scheme.

The child named Tomura is instead too fixated on his own hands. He stares at his open palms and the digits attached to them, twiddling his fingers. Crusted nails have specks of dust under them. He remembers the last time he had a pet dog, and what happened when those hands had touched it. The destructive power of his quirk makes him fold his fingers over, willing them to never brush against his new dog's fur. He refuses to hold the animal that his sensei plans on giving him. He'll never hold the dog. He'll never hug it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I'm just gonna get right to the reviews.

To SuperShadic2002:

Even All Might in his prime struggled with AFO and I just think someone with a lifetime of quirks would be hella hard to put down, so I'm glad you agree with me, cause I will be making AFO an absolute menace.

To Gloomier Studios:

Ah, there's still time for Katsuki to accumulate scars! Glad you like the pairing I went with though! As for other fanfics, if you like Tokyo Ghoul and Batman, then I wrote completed works meshing those with MHA similar to this style if you wanna check those out.

To guestyperson:

All Might could've been sterner, but I imagine they'll have their fair punishment with Aizawa, haha! As for Izuku can let loose with, well, I got a few baddies in mind.

To Frog in lily pad:

Sometimes!

To tiguylerobot:

Mmmayhaps. I don't think it's too different from how their battle in canon crossed the line and they never got more than a verbal slap on the wrist for that. That being said, I do hear where you're coming from and Aizawa's punishment is to be revealed in a later chapter that'll hopefully be a reasonable middle ground.

To The Alone Sage:

Thanks! We're nearly there! Until then, this chapter might make for a good teaser.