This… was not how the President was expecting things to go down. It was now day two of the originally planned one-day battle. Previous reports had been, after scrupulous review, over-inflated for enemy casualty numbers. Several heroes had in actuality, mistaken the Remnant forces, for the MSF. So in a matter of hours, there were more casualties counted, than MSF on the continent.

An apparent four thousand, when only two thousand five hundred were deployed. This was not good. As the President had almost declared the operation a victory before a swarm of Apaches annihilated a once "secure" position. This led to a disturbing discovery. That is the MSF's combat doctrine when dealing with heroes. It was a simple but effective strategy. Whenever an incredibly powerful hero was spotted at the scene, the MSF would fall back, and bomb the area with artillery.

Once the bombardment was finished, either a, the hero was forced to retreat, or b, the hero was killed. With the area now clear, the MSF would move in with heavy armor to reseal the gap in their lines, or worse, exploit the one that just formed in the HPSCs. Of course, artillery wasn't the only option the MSF took. Other reports claimed thousands of drones rigged with C4 flew into the area, and all rammed into specific heroes.

Another said the heroes encountered a field of landmines and were thoroughly delayed and hit by an airstrike. Of course, none of that mattered, as the President had a bigger issue to worry about. This battle was only supposed to last a day. They would move in, overwhelm the MSF with the sheer number of heroes, take a few photos, and return home victorious. They didn't have any supplies for a prolonged engagement.

And now the MSF had locked down air superiority and any transports flown into the area were shot down. The only gains that had been made, were done by a group of Polish heroes. Now this wouldn't normally be a problem, the media would take any victory the heroes achieved. But Poland's heroes were different. They still had media attention and merchandising deals as per requirements.

But they didn't act like normal heroes. Their costumes were dull boring colors or camouflage. Hero names were usually short, simple, and had no true brand appeal. And even stranger, they used guns. It was the antithesis of what a hero was supposed to be. Yet money kept flowing in, so nothing was done about it. At the moment the President couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

She wouldn't have time to figure it out either, as her phone started to ring. Picking it up, she found Techno calling. Suspecting some change in Africa, she picked up.

"Madam President," Techno greeted.

"What is it this time?" the President asked, continuing to look over nearby documents.

"A group of heroes is having some difficulties, mam."

"The entire damn front is having difficulties."

"My apologies, I should have been more specific. They've encountered a problem with the local populace."

"Problem how?"

As Bison stirred awake, he found his arms handcuffed together. He struggled a little, but ultimately it was fruitless. Taking a quick look around, he found himself in the center of the refugee camp. Surrounding him were dozens of other soldiers, with some heroes watching nearby. There was, however, a glaring lack of refugees.

The rational part of his brain told him that the refugees were simply in another area. But that did little to ease his worries. He didn't fight all this time just so they could die now. Yet his attention was taken as he heard one of the heroes talking.

"What do you mean you're not coming? We have over forty villains here waiting for pickup!"

"I told you, fighter jets shot down the last guys who got close. Your on foot I'm afraid."

"On foot!? Are you hearing yourself!? There's nothing but desert to the north, and villains to the south, east, and west!"

"Look man, I'm sorry but I don't know what to tell you."

And with that, the other end hung up, leaving a furious hero to pace around the area. It had an effect on the other heroes, as they learned of their predicament. It was plain to see for Bison, especially when he saw one scrounging through an empty MRE. Soon enough, a voice quietly called out to him.

"Captain, glad to see you're awake."

He looked over to find his gunner Zebra resting not far from him.

"Zebra, is it just you and me?"

"From what I've seen so far, yeah."

"Damn shame," Bison replies solemnly before he noticed a wounded soldier next to Zebra. His back was all torn up, and he could see bits of glass sticking out of his cuts.

"What the hell happened to him?" Bison asked.

"A dipshit hero dropkicked him into a box of vaccines," Zebra replied, a hint of malice clear in his voice.

"Figures," Bison muttered, "any idea on what happened to the civics?"

"Not a clue. Last I saw, some heroes were rounding them up." Zebra answered before a hero smacked him across the head.

"No talking." the hero ordered.

"Well geez, guess someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Zebra joked, resulting in another smack across the head.

"I said, no talking." the hero ordered again.

"You'd know I'd consider this torture, maybe we could call-"

"I suggest you listen to him Zebra, bad mouthing them isn't going to do anything." Bison interrupted, not wanting things to escalate further.

You should listen to your friend here." the hero stated.

"I'll listen when you stop calling me a villain." Zebra retorted, leading Bison to mental facepalm.

"And what would you prefer? Terrorist? War criminal? Human Trafficker?"

"Well, none of those seem to fit me. I'll go with an adventurer. That has a nice ring to it."

"Zebra, just shut up." Bison sighed, not wanting this to go on any further. The last thing he needed was someone getting killed for running their mouth. Zebra relented though, remaining silent then. Satisfied the hero walked away, patrolling the nearby area. Bored out of his mind, Bison decided to try and sleep. Sure, it was the middle of the day and the sun was up. But there wasn't anything else he could do.

The heroes kept them in one spot, unable to move at all, and not allowed to talk. So sleeping, was his only form of entertainment. Laying back onto the ground, he tried his best to find comfort in the hard ground. It wasn't that bad, compared to the outer hull of his Abrams. A bit uneven, but one couldn't really complain. And just as he was about to fall asleep, something kicked him.

"Ow! Son of a…" Bison muttered, cutting himself off as he opened his eyes. He found a hero standing above him before he was hoisted up.

"Move." the hero ordered, as other heroes did the same to other soldiers. Distantly Bison could hear the sounds of gunfire. It was getting close too, and based on the direction it had to be friendlies. He could hear freedom getting ever closer, yet he could do nothing. Walking forward the large mass of people followed them.

Looking back he found Zebra walking behind him, trying his best to steady the wounded soldier leaning on him. The man stumbled a bit but managed to keep pace with them. It was when they left the camp, that Bison spotted the refugees. He couldn't understand why, but they had all been huddled outside the camp. No reason came to mind, for why the heroes forced them out.

But he noticed something else as they walked. A group of heroes went over to the refugees, most having a wide smile plastered across their faces. He even spotted some with pens, waiting for someone to ask for an autograph. They spoke loudly enough that despite how far they were, Bison could hear them.

"Do not worry citizens! You're all free to go home! There is no need to thank us! We are only doing our job! So if you could all disperse the area, that would be much appreciated!"

A silence hung over the area for a moment, as the heroes' smiles drooped slightly. The refugees didn't move back an inch, instead, they walked forward. And the heroes became confused, with the first rock being thrown.

"GO HOME!"

"FUCK OFF!

"WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE NEEDED YOU!"

"YOU'RE NO HERO! FUCK OFF!"

"WE HAVE NO HOME TO GO TO, YOU BASTARD!"

"MY SON'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! FUCK OFF!"

It escalated almost immediately. Anything and everything was thrown at the heroes. Rocks, bricks, clumps of mud, and even some personal items. The heroes attempted to shield themselves from the ensuing onslaught but were forced to back up. Once they ran out of things to throw the refugees switched to quirks. Eyeballs were thrown. Detachable appendages, blocks of ice, bones, anything.

It forced the soldiers to stop as the other heroes went to go help their allies. But in the end, it didn't matter. It was a few hundred heroes against almost a thousand refugees. The heroes unsure of what to actually do were slowly pushed back to where the soldiers stood. What even were they going to do? There were children in the crowd, they couldn't start throwing punches willy-nilly.

"What is the meaning of this!? We're here to rescue you!"

"WE DIDN'T NEED YOUR RESCUE!"

"THEY WERE PROTECTING US FROM THE WARLORDS!"

"YOU SMASHED UP THE LAST OF THE MEDICAL SUPPLIES!"

The heroes were forced into a corner then, as they bumped into the soldiers behind them. They were entirely surrounded and outnumbered horribly. The crowd didn't care as they effectively shoved past the heroes, approaching the soldiers. One hero spotted this and was about to use his quirk, by the crowd was faster.

Four people cornered and grappled the man, before forcing him to the ground. They did the same to another hero, and another, before half of them were being restrained. At that point, Bison felt a light tug on his cuffs and found a rather large refugee standing near him. In a swift motion, the refugee broke his cuffs and moved to do the same with the others.

Now freed, the soldiers looked back over at the surrounded heroes. Finding themselves in a precarious situation, the heroes that could escape, did. It was either that or risk punching a civilian and risk their career. But to Bison, it seemed almost pointless. They had fought for a full day, killing each other. Only for them to just leave. All that bloodshed, for nothing.

"Unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace," Impulse began, as he flew his F-35 next to the large cargo plane. Darksider flew on the other side, with Butcher and Mustang flying a couple meters behind.

"Identify yourself or turn back," he ordered. The other end of the radio remained silent, refusing to answer. At the moment, the only thing keeping that plane in the sky was the lack of identification. For all Impulse knew it could be carrying anything from civilian goods over to Egypt, or resupply for the heroes.

"Unidentified aircraft," Impulse stated again, "you are flying in restricted airspace. Identify yourself or turn back."

Again, silence. The longer this lasted, the more his finger hovered over the trigger. Were it a civilian plane it would have responded, but the radio could also be broken. He didn't know, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to shoot down a civilian.

"Unidentified aircraft, you are flying in restricted airspace. Identify yourself or I will be forced to engage." Impulse threatened, hoping it would force the plane to respond.

"This is Captain Edward Ryans," the other end finally responded. Mentally, Impulse took note of the Captain's name. He still didn't have a true identification for the plane, but it was something.

"Captain as stated previously you are flying in restricted airspace. Where are you going?"

"...We're a medical group sent by the Red Cross organization."

And yet the plane held no red cross. Nowhere on the plane was a cross visible.

"Anything more specific Captain, such as a location?"

"Yes, the Lagos airport."

An airport that was on the other side of the country, miles from where they were.

"One moment please," Impulse told the captain, before calling command. He sat there waiting, as he inspected the large cargo plane. It held no discernible logos or features to identify it. Yet the captain claimed it was the red cross. It was already fishy enough, but the last thing he wanted, was to be sitting in Prague for an itchy trigger finger.

"Diamond actual, this is Diamond two. I've got a cargo plane claiming to be part of the Red Cross organization." Impulse said, the radio picking up his every word. It was followed by a long silence, most likely command investigating the situation.

"Diamond two, the higher-ups have just checked in with the Red Cross. None of their aircraft have been sent into the area."

"Understood, permission to engage?"

"Authorized, but only if they ignore further warnings."

He switched back over to the captain's radio then.

"Captain Ryans this is restricted airspace. Turn around or we will be forced to engage." Impulse ordered, before moving his jet into position. Just as he did so, he spotted the rear of the cargo plane opening up. And began rolling out of the back. Impulse mentally swore, before firing a missile into the cargo plane. It struck and tore off the right wing of the aircraft, causing it to list. Its weakened state further deteriorated as Darksider launched his own missile.

It struck the main fuselage of the plane, ripping what was left in half. Looking back Impulse could see at least three parachutes below him, drifting to the ground below. Moving his plane downward, he switched to the gun pod and lined up a shot on the first parachute. The bullets cut through it like paper, before striking the cargo beneath it. Darksider did the same with the other two.

"You know, this is kinda boring," Butcher noted over the radio.

"You can say that again. All these heroes and the HPSC couldn't send a single fighter jet?" Darksider commented.

"There heroes, if it's not a fistfight on the ground then it doesn't matter." Mustang chimed in.

"Still, I heard some of their heroes can fly," Butcher replied.

"Yes they can fly, but what exactly do you expect them to do? Punch us out of the sky with the super strength they don't have?" Mustang countered.

"I mean there was that dragon hero." Butcher reasoned back.

"Can she breath fire?" Mustang asked.

"No."

"Can she fly at Mach 1.6?"

"No."

"Is her skin thick enough to survive a Sidewinder?"

"... No."

"Then again, what are they going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe one of them has a quirk for this."

Midoriya was bored. With Snake being wounded that meant no CQC training or field missions. He could work on his stealth capabilities, but the majority of the men were sent to Africa. So the exercise would be easier than when he first started. And as much as he wanted to improve his skills, he wasn't really in the mood for it.

So instead, he laid back on his bed staring at the ceiling, with Rody giving him ideas.

"I heard the residential platforms have theaters, maybe we could go see a movie," Rody told him, as he spun around in Midoriya's desk chair. Over the years his room had changed a bit. The dozens of All Might posters still littered the walls, but there were a lot of other things as well. Blueprints for military hardware he found interesting, photos of the people he considered family… weapons he most definitely did not sneak out of the armory.

Small things like that. For the most part, though, it was the same old room he'd grown up in.

"Well, Strangelove did want me to watch A Space Odyssey," Midoriya replied, petting the back of DDs head. She had of course encouraged him to watch it. But every time he asked about it she talked about its complex themes and ideas, ultimately confusing him.

"Could we do Top Gun instead?" Rody asked.

"Haven't you already watched that?"

"Well yeah but-"

"Fourteen times?"

"I see your point." Rody conceded, "I'll watch Top Gun Maverick instead."

"Thirteen times. Actually wait, the reboots or the original?"

"Original."

"Hmmm, maybe."

"Wait! I got it!" Rody suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his chair. Midoriya looked over at him, slightly confused by the outburst.

"Karaoke!"

"...You do know neither of us can sing, right?" Midoriya asked.

"So? It'll be fun." Rody replied as he left the room. Midoriya debated following him, but Rody soon returned. He carried a console with him and hooked it up to the computer on Midoriya's desk. He then turned back around and ran back out the door, then came back with a pair of wireless microphones.

"I guess we're doing this then," Midoriya muttered as he stood up. Rody passed him the other mic, before turning on the monitor. In a few moments, the game was turned on, and they were scrolling through songs.

"What about Take On Me?" Rody asked, it is clear how much time he spent with Pequod.

"Maybe, I can't hit the high notes though."

"True. Hey, what's this one?"

Midoriya looked at the song Rody was asking about. It took him a minute but it was in Japanese. It was strange to Midoriya. He could still speak his native tongue due to time with Miller, but it felt oddly foreign to him. Everything he did was in English nowadays. When he talked to the staff it was in English. When he wrote in his notebook or read a novel it was in English.

He didn't know how he felt about that. Feeling almost alienation from his own language. But he shrugged off the feeling quickly, as he looked back at the song. It translated to Judgement and had a strange album cover. Two men were on the front, one had an eye patch and a tuxedo, and the other had an orange shirt and white suit.

"It's worth a shot," Midoriya replied, selecting the song. After a brief countdown, it started up. The beginning held a loud instrumental part, as the sound of an electric guitar echoed around the room. The screen itself didn't change, still holding the album cover as its background. Before it shifted and lyrics appeared. Taking a quick breath, Midoriya started.

"Reeru kara hazureta" The words felt awkward as they left his mouth, the feeling of alienation returning, but he kept going.

"Furyouhin no norainu sa. Da kedo kantan ni wa."

Rody took over then, trying his best to pronounce the words. It was a bit butchered but passable.

"Teeru wa furanai ze yes ma ni Narisobireta."

As awkward and dumb as it felt for Midoriya, it was fun. A small smile covered his face as the two both sang the next lines.

"Waru ni nokosareta NO to iu na no, JUSTICE!"

No, it was most definitely fun for the two. It was loud, it was dumb, and they were bad at it. Their words were out of pitch, too early, and too late. And yet it was fun, the two simply enjoyed the day.

"WOW, BREAKIN' THE LAW, BREAKIN' THE WORLD, kowase!"