Trigger Warning:
- needles
- blood
- discussion of rape
- moving dolls (because that stuff is nightmare content)
Trypanophobia.
The intense fear of needles, especially in medical settings.
Do not be mistaken; I am not afraid of them.
But I am concerned by the amount of blood being withdrawn from my arm.
As per our agreement, I am letting Daruma-san perform some medical tests on me in the hopes of finding the genes for the Rewind quirk. If luck favors us, then supply and production of quirk suppressors and enhancers can begin immediately. There will be no need to target the original owner of the ability, as I will become the new factory of power.
However, I also have an arrangement with Yotsubashi-san: using my absorbed powers for the purpose of developing durable villain equipment.
Much like how Hanada-sama organized three meetings in one day, I was compelled to do the same. Behind his back, I am colluding with the two men to strengthen the Paranormal Liberation Army's foundation. Preparing for war while Shigaraki endures unspeakable horrors.
Speaking of which …
"Doctor," I call out. "How much longer until Shigaraki's body is ready to handle One for All's capacity?"
He pauses with whatever it is he is doing. Almost as though he was waiting in anticipation for this subject to come up. "One more month, maximum. He is progressing with remarkable speed! Shigaraki is such a fascinating specimen."
My stomach curdles at the nickname. I attempt to suppress it by focusing on the information Daruma-san gave me. One more month, he predicts. So around mid-April Shigaraki should wake up. That is when I will transfer One for All to him, and we launch our attack.
I remember Sasaki-san's words. He had informed Shouto and I that with the witness list prepared, he was almost ready to submit the case file to the court. It would take a few weeks to be processed and some more for the notice to reach Hanada-sama. Elated, Shouto had showered with hugs and kisses. No doubt that I was relieved, but I wish mine were at the same level as his.
Because Hanada-sama is still breathing and kicking.
And this is something that I must discuss with Daruma-san now.
"That drug you gave me …," I begin. "The one I had to apply to liquor glasses … why has it not killed him yet?" Daruma-san asks me to elaborate as he reads something on his tablet. I stare at the dark red liquid exiting the radial artery and filling the plastic bag. "Every day he vomits blood. He has gone to the hospital more times in one-and-a-half months than I have since I began secondary school. The man is carrying a bottle every time I see him; he has fainted in bed nearly every night; he wakes up with a hangover the following morning. But the damn creature is not dead."
"Is he taking any medication to counteract the effects of alcohol?"
I reply, "The doctors prescribed him naltrexone. Just so that the urge to consume liquor would lessen. However, that should have no effect on the action of the drug."
Daruma-san is not as concerned as I am. He simply shrugs and comments, "The human body is a persistent thing. One of its marvels is that it will endeavor to keep the host alive until the last second. If everything you are saying is true, then do not worry. Sooner or later, he will die."
If that was your attempt at comfort, then it was a very poor one. It is not consolation I seek; it is confirmation. "How long do you estimate until that happens?"
"Around the same time that Shigaraki wakes up," he answers in that same irritatingly unbothered tone. "At most. And assuming he does not suddenly quit his drinking habits."
At most! You are telling me that around the time the court case begins, he will certainly perish? That is too late! It has to happen before! "What if I increase the dosage of the chemical?"
Daruma-san shakes his head. "I do not recommend that. Forensic reports will catch onto higher quantities. Just continue using the amount I suggested."
I want to protest further, but what is the point? He has already helped me enough by providing a means to assassinate Hanada-sama and agreeing to a partnership with him. I should follow Daruma-san's advice of letting things continue as is, but I detest leaving things to chance. Chance poses a complication. It always serves as an omen that my meticulous plans could go awry with the smallest mistake.
I have worked so hard to break the shackles Hanada-sama imposed on me. Under no circumstance can I let myself be subdued in his control again.
Promising myself to ponder over this later, I change the subject. Glancing at the bag of blood that takes no name of stopping, I inquire, "Do you really need this much to perform the tests? Mind you, I have to immerse myself in physical activity shortly after this."
However, my question goes into one ear and out the other. Daruma-san does not make eye contact with me because he is busy staring at his tablet. A wide smile tugs at his lips. I open my mouth to ask what he is looking at when all of a sudden, he screams, "BRILLIANT! SUCCESS!"
The loudness terrifies me. I clutch the armrest out of instinct before calming down. "What is-"
Daruma-san shoves the screen in my face. The brightness is on maximum setting. So blinding, I shut my eyes against the light before opening them again. The tablet screen is split into two tabs.
"This one here is Eri's DNA. By collecting a small sample from the quirk bullets, I managed to locate the gene responsible for her superpower," he explains. Daruma-san practically bounces up and down on his feet. Ignoring his childish behavior, I focus on what he is saying. A lot of the sections provide information I do not have knowledge of. What I can discern is a 3D model of the helical structure of DNA occupying most of the space on the tab. Below it is the nucleotide sequence. "And this panel on the right is your genetic profile. I ran some blood and it is a success. You carry the genetic sequence for Rewind." Indeed, when I compare Eri's nucleotide sequence to mine, it is identical. Practically a copy-and-paste.
What feels like a pent-up sigh escapes my lips. At least one problem is solved. I regret thinking that as soon as my gaze falls onto Daruma-san's face. He stares at me with undisguised fascination. As though I am the latest specimen of his interest. Even better, that analogy is not entirely untrue. "Selene, if you can give me one liter of your blood, I can initiate work on the formula for the bullets."
Hearing that, my mind enters one mode: panic. The human body contains on average five liters of blood, and you want to take twenty percent of it in one sitting?! With my free hand, I clutch his coat collar and pull him toward me. Close enough that I can whisper into his ear. "Do it and I swear the next time I wield your created katana, it will be against your neck."
Such proximity enables me to hear his gulp without the assistance of any quirk. "Understood."
I release him and smile saccharine sweetly. "How much have you taken thus far?"
"Two hundred fifty milliliters," he responds after checking the measurement scale on the blood bag.
"I'll let you extract five hundred if you compensate me with a treat after this." Daruma-san looks at me, utterly puzzled. What is there to be confused about? "My blood sugar levels are falling," I reason. "Do you seriously expect me to engage in exercise with no glucose in my body?"
"But I do not have anything sweet."
"What nonsense! Blood donation centers always provide a cookie." He shakes his head, telling me there are no cookies here. "Candy?" Again, no. "Ice cream?" Same response. "The miserable excuse for hot chocolate your staff makes? You cannot deny me that!" But the answer does not change.
Frustrated, I wait for the extraction to end. As soon as Daruma-san pulls the needle out of my arm, I leap up and bandage the spot myself.
Summoning a warp gate to the villa, I turn around and watch Daruma-san unhook the bag from the rack, who beams at the swishing red liquid with creepy delight.
"Next time I come in for blood collection, snacks must be sitting on your desk, Doctor."
Yotsubashi-san is far more accommodating than Daruma-san. See, Daruma-san was only hospitable the first time I met him. Yotsubashi-san, on the other hand, is always welcoming toward me every time we gather for a reunion. The doctor could clearly learn some etiquette lessons from our dear corporate.
"There is no rush," Yotsubashi-san tells me as he orders for dinner to be served. "Skeptic is still making final adjustments."
I scrutinize the room. Small enough for two people, spacious enough to not feel suffocated. This is his personal dining room, presumably. In the center is a round table with only two chairs. The ensemble of candlelights, champagne flutes, porcelain dishes, and Italian cuisine is amusing. So interesting that when he maneuvers his wheelchair to pull my seat, I cannot restrain the slight chuckle that bubbles in my throat.
As I sit down, I praise, "You are a remarkable host, Yotsubashi-san."
"That's not true," he scoffs and pours apple juice into my glass. "I tried to have you killed the first time."
Swirling the golden liquid single-handedly, I watch the drink churn and spiral. "Mmm. Yes. The false priestess. Astonishing how religious fanatics are usually the ones to have committed the most atrocious sins. By the way, I never did ask you: why did you let someone like her join your organization?"
Yotsubashi-san pours champagne for himself and takes a long sip. He does not meet my eyes. "Although it does not excuse my actions, you should know that I had no intention of taking her in initially. I knew what she did to young girls, and she repulsed me. But her followership was strong. People need a reason to survive, and she gave them one."
"She reminded me of a cult leader," I murmur.
He nods. "That she was. There are scientific explanations behind the existence of quirks, philosophical ones as well. However, her base concocted religious nonsense to explain the super-abilities. I don't remember clearly, but it was something along the lines of God granted divine powers to his devotees so that they could guide mankind back to his path."
Nausea coats the back of my throat. How typical. Using religion as a perverse excuse to justify the various facets of nature. I drink the juice to wash it away. "Indeed. Utter nonsense. Not even a creative tale. I take it that you swallowed down your revulsion for the advantages she had to offer."
"That's right. Recruiting her brought in thousands of soldiers ready to fight for quirk liberation."
I understand his logic. Were I in his place, perhaps I would have done the same. Of course, I would dispose of her afterward. As unforgivable and unatonable my actions have been, I would never support someone who forced themselves onto others the way she did. "It is ironic that my assailant was a rapist, and I am a rape victim. Too good to be a coincidence. You must have run a background check on me. So what did you find?"
Like how I fear the possibility of chance foiling my plans, Yotsubashi-san possessed the same fear the day of the war. No one knew that the League of Villains had a spy. Those who did were either dead or in Tartarus. No matter what truths they spouted to the guards, their sentence would not become any lenient and nor would their claims be taken seriously. Even now, only those in the high ranks of the Paranormal Liberation Army were aware of my existence. Between my entry and encounter with the priestess, there was a gap of just over an hour. I wonder how much he learned in that time frame?
"You must be inquiring about the secrets not made aware to the public," he states. It is not a question, but I nod my head, nonetheless. "Well, your father put in a lot of effort to hide his trail. His record was too clean to be true. So I had Skeptic search his acquaintances instead. Single meetings and numerous meetings. Interesting names popped up. Names of people who were not so careful to conceal their dark, dirty deeds."
I glance at him from just past the rim of the wine glass. "Notorious womanizers and men facing assault charges?" His silence is all the confirmation I need. To think he researched this much about me in around one hour … impressive. If he can make a connection between myself and rapists despite not being a detective, I dare not imagine what the police will uncover if they begin digging into my past. Again, I wish for the drug to kill Hanada-sama the next time he uncorks a bottle of alcohol. I've lost count of the instances I have prayed for such.
We finish the rest of the meal on a different subject: the quirk exercise. In order to mass produce gear that will allow the Army to face the heroes, Yotsubashi-san has prepared an arena. He explains, "The battle will most likely take place at the villa and/or the hospital, which are areas surrounded by dense forests. Selene, you will go to the jungle outside the villa. With Skeptic's help and a member with an illusion quirk, we combined artificial intelligence, computer science, and fantasy to generate a simulation. Within the forest, there are replicas of the Pro-Heroes wearing prototypes of the equipment.
"They are dummies, if you will. But their abilities and tactics remain unchanged. Pretend that you are fighting the actual hero. And since your absorption quirk works from sight, I suspect you will inherit new powers."
The idea is creative. I have an abundance of abilities that I do not remember which ones I possess and which ones I do not. By simulating an actual battle, Detnerat can collect data about the strengths and fallacies in their products. And I get the opportunity to practice my combat skills and observe the enemy. Skills I know will be essential during the actual war.
There is one doubt, though.
"My arthritis will hinder me from fighting for long periods of time," I voice.
Yotsubashi-san shakes his head and swallows the last dregs of the champagne in one gulp. "Don't worry about that. The apple juice contained substantial quantities of a quirk booster. Not the same one that the Doctor is attempting to replicate – it is a lower quality version – but it should achieve the same purpose for the time being."
I suppose that is a relief. Though I do not like the idea of having my meal laced without notification. We'll have a talk about that later.
Finishing my drink, too, I say, "Do have a bed prepared for me for the inevitable flare."
He chuckles under his breath.
"I'll have hot chocolate ready, too."
Indeed, he is a better host than Daruma-san.
Since the existence of language, people have always likened darkness to night and light to day.
A concept that was accurate only to an extent.
Because the sun creates shadows, and the moon and stars light up the night.
Tonight is such a night.
It is a new moon, which permits the stars to glitter the black canvas blue and white. This far out from the city, I can trace the ring of the Milky Way galaxy. Only the silhouettes of the trees appear blacker than the sky. It is in this darkness that I must battle against virtual dummies. Dummies that hover on the border between reality and fiction.
The challenge is this: traverse the entire forest by dawn. Yotsubashi-san had his henchmen drop me at the edge of the jungle, the farthest away from the villa. My goal is to reach the villa before sunrise. Certainly not an easy task for the well-abled, so it is nigh impossible for the disabled.
Does not mean that this task can be avoided.
Summoning some courage and taking a deep breath, I cross the threshold between landscapes.
Immediately, the stars are blocked out from view. Trees ten to twenty times taller than me tower high up, their leaves forming a dark canopy, preventing all light from filtering through. My day vision is bad enough; my night vision should not be asked about. If I have any chance of crossing the forest, I need light. To read the compass, to place my cane, and to watch where I step. But it is a double-edged sword. The light will also alert my enemies of my location.
Enemies capable of hurting me.
Ten bleeding hells. I left Shouto's sleeping embrace only to go on a hike in the middle of nowhere.
Simply thinking his name plucks at the strings of my heart. Convoluted feelings of guilt and love mix together in a way that makes bile crawl up my throat. I shove the sensation down. Shut down the emotions. Generate a facade of coolness and rationality.
If the light poses a risk for myself, then I should equalize it by creating a problem for the dummies as well. A simple flick of my fingers against my thigh manifests numerous orbs of flames. I figure why simply opt for blue, the usual color of my flames. With a combination of my absorbed fire and light abilities, a rainbow of luminosities decorates the forest like lanterns. High and low, spaced at random intervals, spread across a wide area. Like stars that descended to earth. This should confuse them for a while. They may have a general idea of my location, but they cannot pinpoint me.
As a measure of extra security, I trace another pattern. A gust of wind lifts my feet off the ground, raising me several meters into the air. Seizing a sturdy branch far above the hovering balls, I plant my feet and gaze below. Any moment now.
As if on cue, the first dummy appears. Just one glance is enough to convince me that the word 'dummy' is an understatement. Skeptic's anthromorphic ability enables him to take any human-sized object and convert it into a lifelike lookalike of any person. He can control its actions the way a puppeteer masters the puppet's strings. Combined with the illusory ability user, these marionettes possess the quirks of the people they are meant to resemble.
Take this one for example. A woman with brown skin, narrow and red eyes, straight white hair longer than mine. Prominent muscles line her arms and legs, and so do rabbit ears and tail. Pro-Hero Mirko. The current Number 5 Hero. As the features would suggest, this marionette carries all the abilities of the actual hero: leg strength, impeccable hearing, and strong instincts.
But the dummy is not wearing the leotard characteristic of Mirko. Instead, it is wearing the prototype gear that Detnerat designed. Brace guards, shields, helmets, and the like.
So this is my first opponent.
Yotsubashi-san told me that there are cameras riddled throughout the forest. So he has instated some rules. The first being that I take my time to fight each combatant; to not annihilate several in one hit. The second being that I do not use my katana. And the third being related to the second: no poison. Which is odd because poison is one of my absorbed powers, but he needs the data and salvages of the equipment. Fine then. I'm here, anyway.
Mirko the marionette rotates her head mechanically, searching for her opponent. I am not willing to waste time either. To catch her attention, I levitate a pebble off the ground and throw it at her. She whips toward the source. I toss another. She looks up, finally spotting me.
"Hello!" I greet with a smile too big. "Lovely evening, isn't it! Though, I guess the only time that matters to rabbits like you is twilight."
I do not expect a verbal response from the puppet. Neither do I receive one. Rather, marionette Mirko bends her knees and launches into a leap so high that even I am momentarily stunned. She balances the heels of her feet on a tree branch at the same height as mine. Orbs of fire from below trace shifting patterns of light and shadow on her face. As typical of a mannequin, there is no life behind her eyes. Only the software to attack me is running in her CPU or whichever engine operates her system.
Before she can seize the opportunity, I do. In one stride, I land on her branch and plant a solid roundhouse kick to the face. If Spinner taught me how to wield a weapon skillfully, then Shigaraki had taught me physical defense moves. "The next time some entitled bastard tries to take advantage of you, don't take it silently and weakly," he told me during one of our rendezvous at the old bar. Of course, that time I couldn't fight the paralysis Pro-Hero and Hanada-sama's sons. His lessons were useful, nonetheless.
That is why I do not give puppet Mirko the chance to retaliate. While her head is still swiveled toward the side, I kick her again. In her solar plexus. The sound resonates off the metal breastplate, and she topples off the branch. Oh, right. Yotsubashi-san wanted to test the quirk durability of the defense gear. With that reminder, Kaminari-san's electricity power courses through my body. One line sends a current running through the automaton.
The limbs convulse and eyes spiral in all directions. The surge of electricity must have worked. However, it would be a mistake to relish my victory so soon. Lounging on the branch, I stare down where the dummy lies on the ground. After one minute goes by without any movement, I am convinced.
Jumping down myself, I continue my trek through the forest, giving a wide berth between the marionette and myself. I thought it would be more difficult to fight that. If the quality of the equipment is this terrible, then our defeat is guaranteed at the actual battle. I regret thinking that immediately. As though the puppet can read my mind, it moves faster than the blink of the eye. One moment it is a sprawled mess on the grass; the other, it has pinned me on my back.
Mirko the animatronic raises a fist to punch me. I only manage to block it at the last second, only in name. The impact rattles deep into my bones. I am going to need more than arthritis treatment after this. Painkillers and anesthesia has to be added to the list as well. If I believed I was opportunistic, then it was my mistake to assume that Mirko was not. True to the personality of the real person, Mirko the marionette pummels me. With just my forearms protecting my face for who knows how much longer, she does not give me the opportunity to think of a counterattack.
No weapons … no poison … only my absorbed abilities.
There is no point in kicking her between the legs; I am the one who will get injured, instead. Think, Selene. Think. Randomly, my eyes focus on the shadows dancing around. Perhaps that is what sparks an idea inside my head. Sensing for the nearest fireball, it comes racing toward us. A trail of white streaks the dark forest. Halting its progress between our faces, I increase the brightness until it blinds her. Human or machine, too much light impedes vision and function.
Luckily for me, I have memorized my surroundings. So when the fire stings my eyes, too, I slip out of her bodily cage to attack from behind. Swinging my legs around her waist, I press on the automaton's back and shove her down. I straddle her hips to make it difficult for her to throw me off.
The finale is very dramatic. A shower of lava. The orbs of flames dispersed throughout coagulate into one gleaming cloud of light above the trees. So bright like a divine cloud. Yet it is hellfire that rains from it. Liquid fire runs down my head and shoulders, stopping on top of the machine. While I am unscathed, Mirko is not. Metal and fire crackle and sizzle. The droplets burn holes through the animatronic, destroying its interiors.
If Mirko manages to recover from that, then I swear on my ice cream cappuccino, I will salute Yotsubashi-san and kiss Skeptic's hand.
This time, I do not stay behind to check whether she is 'dead.' My watch – which miraculously survived the assault to my arms – reminds me that I just wasted seven minutes on a battle that should have taken three.
Keep moving, Selene.
There are countless more dummies you have to tackle.
And that hot chocolate is waiting to be devoured.