Izuku stumbled through a door, leaning heavily on the frame before catching himself with a hand against the wall. The air was a soup thick with smoke and dust. He didn't have any protective equipment now, did he? He could barely keep track of his name let alone what he was wearing. After some careful inspection, he determined that the answer to "what was he wearing" was "not much, and all of that tatters." He was in similar condition to the building in that regard.
This bunker had been their safe haven, their fall back and communication hub. Anyone who survived... they would be here. Except they wouldn't, would they? The concrete walls were riddled with holes--heavy automatic weapon fire. They had lost their haven in the end, along with everything else. At least they went down with a bang rather than a whimper, went down never having compromised what they stood for. The long war had twisted some pieces of him to darker purposes but Izuku had never lost sight of himself. He never forgot who he was and why he was doing this... what and who he fought for.
There were survivors. There was still hope, not hope for victory but perhaps for reformatting. In another century or so, perhaps someone stronger, wiser, might pick up their story, dust off their ideals, and make progress towards a better world, a world free of people like the Soulstealer, a world free of the fools who would deal with the devil for a little taste of power.
Maybe... probably not. Humans only lived so long, only learned so much in their lifetimes. Every generation was just like the one before it, mimicking mistakes with only a slight shift in context. Humans were never meant to live together in peace. That was the last thing the war taught him.
Nothing would ever change. Around and around the merry go round of misery... oppressing for fear of being oppressed, trading freedom for security and gaining a dystopia, selling away health
for money, unfairly favoring the rich in hope of being an unfairly favored miser oneself someday, voting away the right to vote.
Everyone else... was he the only one left? Would he leave this battlefield with nothing but memories, cynicism and twisted pride? No companions? "Hello?" He called softly, voice breaking as a cry turned into a cough. A shattered ray of sunlight illuminated the bombed out room as he turned the final corner.
"Epona!" he called out with something like relief. At least he wouldn't be alone. Epona, kneeling on the floor, raised her head, looking on him in bewilderment. Blood trickled from a long, dirty cut on her arm. She was so thoroughly stained by ashes and concrete dust that it was impossible to determine her normal skin color, let alone her hair color. She turned away, staring at the corpse that lay before her.
Glassy eyes gazed into infinity. Tattered, dark curls pooled into mats glued to the floor by dusty blood. Rafael Leon. Switcher. "Dead," Epona said, succinct and serene.
It was one of his less dignified dream awakenings, but luckily there was nobody to see him flail.
How could this be? It didn't make sense. Switcher was the one person who had to live . Switcher was still alive so how--? But he wasn't alive, clearly, so who was running Black Forest if Switcher was dead? Whose perspective had that been, anyway? Fractal maybe? Cloud Viper? Not Bit Weasel, certainly, her view was never quite so cynical.
Forget who, though, when was the important question. When could this possibly have happened? At first it looked like Utapa but it couldn't be. Switcher had to live until after Destro died to go steal the leader's corpse so when could Leon have died himself...?
There were a few skirmishes with MLA remnants and splinter cells after the official end of the war. Could Switcher have been killed in one of those? But that didn't fit. Could that have been the aftermath of some war in the Rebel Isles? There were plenty of those to go around, fighting never really stopping in much of that chaotic place.
Maybe Izuku really had just seen the end of Utapa and Switcher really died but didn't stay dead? Maybe Switcher had some sort of delayed resurrection component to his quirk and the first time he found out about it was after Utapa? That could fit. Everyone was convinced Switcher was still in charge of Black Forest. It would be impossible to cover up his demise... or would it?
Switcher was a changeling, supposedly, so, with the right forethought anyone, or any group of people could be Switcher. For all Izuku knew, Black Forest was actually ruled by a council of two dozen people all of whom played at supreme potentate for one day of the month...
False Flag would know. Izuku needed to talk to her. He was shedding his secrets left and right. He couldn't even remember why he was so afraid to explain to False Flag the story of his disappearance back when he was her intern. He'd been suspicious of her... thought she might be related to Switcher, thought she was testing him somehow... wasn't sure if she might have been involved in his kidnapping, and back then he'd thought said kidnapping had been a forcible abduction. Few of those concerns seemed important anymore, and he had the excuse of the inherited quirk and Tripswitch's experiences to explain away suspicious behavior... although that hadn't worked very well with Aizawa, had it?
Whatever. He didn't care anymore. It didn't matter. He had to find out what Switcher's quirk really was, whether Switcher was still alive at all because if he wasn't... then Izuku was never going to be able to call him an idiot on Kuma's behalf, was he? This felt more important than just that, though, and, honestly, he should have sat down and explained everything to False Flag a long time ago.
He had to talk to the undercover hero now, he just had to. She'd been at the congregation the night before and had quite possibly taken up residence in one of the new buildings on campus.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow Izuku would track down his mentor and ask her what Switcher's quirk was and come clean about his past and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to explain some of it. She'd offered him help before. He'd been too confused and frightened to take her up on the offer. He had gained confidence since then.
The greenette threw himself back onto his bed, chewing on his never ending set of mysteries, until reluctant sleep reclaimed him.
"Everybody up!" Aizawa called from the hallway. The teacher didn't sound panicked or angry, just very serious. They probably weren't being attacked, then.
Students, many still in pajamas as the sun had yet to rise, congregated in the common room. Aizawa, in full costume already with his capture weapon curled around his throat like a python, addressed them stoically. "I'm sure that some of you have guessed that a major offensive operation against the PLF is about to take place. We will all be helping. Get ready for the day as quickly as possible, change into your hero gear and come see me for your assignment. Only a few of you will be traveling with me. Most of you will be with your previous internship mentors. Don't be late."
Everyone was ready to leave well before the thirty minute mark. A line formed in front of Aizawa as students received directions from him.
"Good luck, Kacchan," Izuku told the blonde as Katsuki was told to meet Gang Orca at the west end of the eastern parking lot. There were a lot of new structures, including parking structures, on campus.
"You, too, nerd."
"Midoriya, you're meeting Nighteye's group. South end of the eastern parking lot."
Well, so much for talking to False Flag today. Even if she were there, one of Nighteye's party, they wouldn't have the privacy necessary to discuss any remotely sensitive topics.
"Good luck," Ojiro waved from the back of the line--apparently the tailed boy took balanced breakfasts very seriously. Shouji, who took the opposite stance, had been long gone before Izuku finished eating.
"Thanks, you too," the greenette repeated.
Nighteye, Bubble Girl, Centipeder, Mirio, Kesagiri Man and Native waited for Izuku by an SUV. "That's all of us," Nighteye noted. "We'll discuss particulars on the road." Nighteye herded them into the vehicle, Fossa, Mirio and Bubble Girl taking seats in the back.
The car still smelled new. It seemed tempting fate to take a new car to the site of what was liable to
be an enormous battle, but whatever. Hopefully everyone was paid up on their vehicle insurance.
As Nighteye got them on the road, the ruby sun just peeking over the horizon, Centipeder began the mission briefing by distributing the appropriate encrypted comms. The devices had been custom made for this mission. "Address the communications operator as 'control.'" Centipeder informed them in his high, buzzing voice. "There will be several operators handling the calls and coordinating, but every time you call you should end up speaking to the same person. If you are not speaking to the same person, communications may have been hijacked and you must be very cautious.
"Your squad leader should be the one calling control unless your squad leader is incapacitated or your group splits. Whether you are taking instructions from your squad leader or control, you are expected to follow those instructions." Well, duh.
"If following an instruction is impossible, you need to make that clear when you refuse to do so. Failure to follow instructions may lead to serious consequences, for you and for the operation as a whole. You do not need permission from control to attempt to save your own life or the life of another, of course, or make similarly fast decisions in accordance with mission parameters. When decisions must be made in a matter of seconds, use your best judgment."
Who was this speech for? Izuku? Mirio? Perhaps it was for everyone--heroes rarely worked in larger, para-military arrangements like this with most agencies falling somewhere along the scale from "fairly independent" to "ferociously independent" to "how-dare-you-set-foot-on-my-patrol- route independent." The Shie Hassaikai and Kamino Raids had been extremely unusual events. Only a few multi-agency raids of that magnitude had occurred during Izuku's lifetime. The rules for this kind of engagement were likely unclear to nearly everyone involved.
That was... really not comforting. Hopefully everyone was hearing the exact same explanation Centipeder was currently administering.
"Who are our squad leaders?" Mirio asked.
"You, Bubble Girl, Native and Centipeder are following me. Fossa, you are following Kesagiri Man," Nighteye answered without glancing up from the road.
"We are carrying out an attack on a villa situated on Gunga Mountain where many PLF leaders and soldiers are known to reside," Centipeder continued. "There is expected to be intense fighting. Nighteye's squad will be part of the frontal assault. Kesagiri Man and Fossa have been assigned to stake out a heavily wooded area behind the villa where emergency exits are theorized to exist. Kesagiri Man and Fossa will apprehend escaping villains if possible, and report the escapes if engaging is not advisable.
"Should they require support, more than a dozen such groups have been distributed through the woods. Control will direct one of them to aid you if necessary.
"Fossa, for the duration of this operation you have been assigned this service weapon."
Izuku unzipped the bag Centipeder presented. The weapon was the same model as the assault rifles used by Tartarus guards. That didn't bode well, did it, especially given that a seer was assigning the gun to him? Izuku shared a glance with All Might's old sidekick, meeting the hero's eyes in the mirror. No, that expression didn't bode well at all. Nighteye had seen something and it wasn't good.
Centipeder began to speak again, explaining the topography, distributing schematics of the
building (which Izuku would not be entering unless something truly catastrophic occurred) and files on powerful villains expected to make an appearance.
One of them was called Re-Destro. He claimed to be a descendant of the original, using his alleged blood as a rallying point. The fact that Destro had never showed the slightest interest in physical relationships with women didn't preclude the possibility of a descendant, although the implications were ugly. Izuku's blood boiled at the thought.
Re-Destro did look a bit like Chris, didn't he? The hair was similar... Their faces were nothing alike, though, and Re-Destro looked fake, like some kind of overacted phantasm lacking all human warmth whereas Destro proper had burned with the charismatic fire of authenticity and humanity.
Re-Destro was a complete fanatic, for better or worse. The chances of him retreating and running through the woods past Kesagiri Man and Fossa were vanishingly small.
That was probably a good thing. The PLF had more than enough other boogeymen who might choose to flee the field and pass into Izuku's sights to make his job difficult and dangerous.