Aizawa couldn't remember a time he saw Nezu this tired. The rat's fur had been poorly done, although an attempt seemed to have been made. His suit was wrinkled and had either coffee or tea stains present. But like with his fur, there had been an attempt to clean it up. It did nothing to hide Nezu's eyes though. Large bags rested under them, with the rat's eyes closing slightly only to shoot back open. What made it worse? The rat was sitting in his chair for once, instead of his scarf.
Aizawa wasn't one to judge though, he'd shown up to the meeting still inside his sleeping bag. But when Nezu was like this, it sent all of UA a bleak message. So, the staff had been gathered into the conference room and now waited as the last few people entered the room. Once done, Aizawa saw Nezu wait a moment before pressing a button on his side of the table. Around them heavily armored shutters slammed down, locking the entire area and activating a hidden signal jammer.
If the first clue to this meeting's importance was a tired Nezu, the second was a full lockdown. Something the others noticed quickly.
"I'm afraid I will have to start this meeting with some grim news," Nezu began, "Recently the United Nations has elected to remove UA's status as an international entity."
He paused momentarily, taking a quick second to drink from a nearby coffee cup.
"Due to this some of our policies will have to change, to remain in the good graces of the HPSC. The largest on my list is the expulsion rule." Nezu explained, now looking over at Aizawa. He didn't miss how much malice Nezu placed on the HPSC when he spoke.
"Effective immediately, we are only allowed to expel one class a year. At the same time, we are to increase class hours, and issue temporary pay cuts."
For the rest of the staff, these requirements weren't all that bad. None of them had to fully expel a class before, and while the increased hours were a tad annoying, they were doable. Not to mention pay was never really an issue for them, so that matter was a non-issue. However, it was the policies' implementation that worried them. They couldn't understand what Nezu had against the HPSC, but they trusted him enough to stand by him.
"How high are hours going to be increased?" Aizawa asked tiredly, mentally checking over his nonexistent sleep schedule.
"At the moment, three hours," Nezu answered, equally as tired. His eyes closed for a second before jutting back open, with the rat shaking his head to stay awake.
"What are the other changes?" Midnight asked.
"Well, for less important matters we are to change the entrance exam as well."
"They finally taking my advice?" Aizawa asked hopefully, though he knew it was extremely unlikely. And sure enough, Nezu shook his head.
"No, rather they want our focus to be on physical quirks exclusively. Though I managed to get a compromise and kept the hidden off buttons on the robots."
Aizawa grumbled in response, glaring as the rat soon began passing around documents. He took one glance before seeing it was a long list of changes the HPSC would be enacting. Yet he didn't fully buy that all of this would happen.
"I'm going to assume you have a plan," he stated matter of factly. Nezu gave him a light chuckle in response before his eyes closed again.
"It's rather last minute but I've decided that we need to be more charitable as heroes. So, UA will be the first charity hero school in the country. In around thirty business days that is."
"A charity…" Snipe pondered, "You sure the HPSC's gonna buy that?"
"They won't, but legally they won't have a choice."
"Still seems a bit extreme. I mean, we'd effectively be cutting off all funding aside from donations."
"Hence the pay cuts," Nezu stated to which everyone soon began to realize what was happening.
"So, you plan to follow the HPSC's guidelines for thirty days, before announcing UA as a charity and reverting the policy changes." Snipe recounted, to the tired form of Nezu.
"That would be correct."
"That still doesn't address the issue of funding," Ectoplasm stated, the math teacher going over the numbers on a different document.
"At best we are left with four years of available resources, maybe less."
"I'll figure something out," Nezu replied. With that last statement, Nezu took a moment to look around the room.
"Does anyone have anything else they'd like to bring forward?" he asked, being answered by a long silence.
"Then this meeting is adjourned."
Bison watched as the dozens of M1150s rolled forward, with the occasional explosion going off in front of them. Clearing the city was a long monotonous process. Not because of enemy presence, they were all dead Bison noted as his tank drove by another abandoned corpse. No, it was because of landmines. While the outskirts of the city and suburbs were empty and undefended, the interior was not.
From what was found the suburbs were effectively a trap, made to lull attacking troops into a sense of security with the lack of resistance. Only to meet a vast swath of landmines, hidden artillery guns, heavy machine guns, and buildings rigged with explosives. It would have been a costly battle, but not so much now. While Bison was happy with the lack of combat, he was also displeased. Without combat, his crew didn't have anything to do except trail behind the mine clearers.
Which is why he found Rhino and Zebra playing on a pair of Nintendo Flips. He didn't know much about what they were doing, but if the constant swearing was anything to go by, then Zebra was winning. He could hear Rhino trying to hype himself up all the while.
"You could just pay up now you know," Zebra said from his chair, "Would save you a lot of time."
Rhino didn't give a response, at least not one Bison could hear from the loader's position.
"Breath in, and out," Rhino said to himself, "Just roll it nice and easy- fuck!"
What followed was a rather creative arrangement of expletives and the loud laughter of Zebra. While interested, Bison elected to focus on the goal at hand. Such was the curse of being commander, but he'd do it regardless. Activating the tank's surveillance drone, he flew it around the area. It wasn't for any grand purpose, but it at least gave him something to do. The surrounding landscape was bleak though.
Every few seconds he'd find a group of corpses, huddled together in small groups. A nearby park showed a tale of some temporary peace. Contrary to the rest of the city it held no barbed wire, armored vehicles, or even militants. It was relatively undamaged and looked nice. It made it hard to look at when he began counting the bodies. Some big event was being held before the attack.
With a solemn sigh, he called the drone back, sending it to inspect the company's rear. But all in all, nothing happened. And Bison didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.
Ocelot let out a low whistle as he looked at the mansion in front of him. It hadn't taken long to find Ghost Leopard's home. After all, they only needed to check the hero registry. But it also bore new fruit to their investigation, as they discovered their mystery rep's name. One Representative Watase. As expected, he was an up-and-comer for the VP position. Ocelot could only add him to the ever-growing list of victims. Why he had been killed was still a mystery, but he hoped some clues would be found soon as the two approached the house.
Now the house wasn't large by any means, but instead luxuriously decorated. On the outside marble statues decorated a small garden, with cherry blossom trees swaying gently in the wind. A small pond rested in the middle of the garden, and in the middle of the pond was a fountain. The structure itself was just as grand, hosting a semi-futuristic aesthetic.
"This the place?" he asked Hawks. The hero nodded as he walked forward, entering the garden. Ocelot quickly followed him, continuing to inspect the area. So far, no staff had been seen, which was somewhat odd. A place this nice usually had someone tending the grounds, but it was vacant. They made it to the house and then looked around the front door. Hawks turned to Ocelot then, before grabbing one of his sharp feathers.
Ocelot simply nodded before turning away to keep watch. As he did so Hawks put the feather in the door's lock and started picking it. After a few moments, he unlocked it and slowly opened the door. He put the feather back with his wings and stepped inside. Ocelot then followed, before quietly closing the door. The moment he did, he could hear a commotion across the hall.
"No damn, it!" the voice yelled out, "You said if I completed your task then you'd help me in the rankings!"
"Oh, I promised no such thing. I said I might help you, not that I would." a second voice replied, though it was more distorted than the first. Moving forward, Ocelot peeked around a doorway trying to find the voice. He found it coming from a small living room, with Ghost Leopard pacing around. The hero's costume rested on a nearby table, with a small phone resting next to it.
"You two-timing double-crossing son of a bitch! We had a deal!" Ghost Leopard shouted angrily.
"What can I say, deals change." the distorted voice replied, before hanging up. Furious, Ghost Leopard activated his quirk, a large spectral cat appearing from somewhere. It started tearing up whatever it could get its hands on before its jaws grabbed and threw a nearby chair. Ocelot looked over at Hawks and found the hero grabbing a feather from his wings. It was distinctly sword-like, and Ocelot could see where this was going.
"You got a plan?" he asked, drawing his two revolvers. He spun them around a few times, before ensuring they were loaded.
"Was hoping you had one," Hawks replied, the hero watching as Ghost Leopard continued to trash his home. Slowly though, Ghost Leopard calmed down. He was still visibly angry, but he'd turned off his quirk. Quickly Ocelot thought of a plan.
"You're faster than me, so it shouldn't be difficult to subdue him." Ocelot deduced, "I'll distract him, while you take him down."
Hawks only nodded as Ocelot stood up. He leaned against the doorframe as Hawks quietly snuck around, moving to a different position. With a deep breath, Ocelot spoke up.
"Quite a lively conversation you were having," he commented, dragging Ghost Leopard's attention over to him. The hero's anger came back slightly, with the specter of his quirk beginning to form.
"And you are villain?" Ghost Leopard asked, malice lining his words.
"Hey now, villain is a strong word," Ocelot replied, "And one that does not describe who I am. See, you can call me Revolver Ocelot,"
"Revolver Ocelot?" Ghost Leopard muttered, his anger faltering slightly as he thought over the name.
"You're HPSC, aren't you?"
"That I am. Now, we can do this the easy way," Ocelot began, his hands slowly raising his revolvers, "or we can do it the hard way."
"Ha! Or what? Are you going to shoot me? A hero?" Ghost Leopard asked, his quirk ready to tear Ocelot apart. What he didn't notice though, was Hawks moving right behind him.
"If it comes down to it," Ocelot replied, before nodding to Hawks. In a flash, Ghost Leopard was swept off his feet, as Hawks' feathers swarmed around him. The hero tried to activate his quirk, but the feathers knocked him into a nearby wall. Trying to get on his feet, he felt several sharp feathers stab into his hands and legs, trapping him against the wall. Only then did the hero see Hawks.
"You're pretty good," Ocelot complimented, walking over to Ghost Leopard.
"Well, I aim to impress," Hawks replied, also walking up to Ghost Leopard, "Long time no see Ghostie, how have you been?"
"Y-you!" was all Ghost Leopard could strain out. He tried to activate his quirk but froze when he felt a sharp feather press against his neck.
"I wouldn't try anything if I were you," Ocelot commented, now spinning one of his revolvers. He tossed it into the air then, catching it with one finger as it continued to spin.
"W-what do you want?" Ghost Leopard muttered, fighting through the pain in his hands and legs.
"Whatever's in your fridge for starters," Hawks joked before walking off in the direction of the kitchen, "Oh! Also, who it was that hired you to kill Representative Watase?"
"What makes you think I killed him?" Ghost Leopard countered.
"Aside from video evidence, that little conversation you and your buddy had for one." Ocelot rebuked, now holstering both his revolvers.
"I was settling a ranking dispute." Ghost Leopard told him defiantly, though Ocelot could hear the strain in his voice from the pain in his hands.
"That's bullshit and you know it," Ocelot stated, "So you can either tell us what we want, or I'm going to have to get creative."
"It was a ranking dispute, that's it."
Ocelot sighed as he paced around the room for a moment, looking over Ghost Leopard.
"Hawks, how sharp are your feathers?" Ocelot asked to the worry of Ghost Leopard.
"Cut through concrete once on a good day," Hawks replied, now returning from the kitchen with a coke in hand.
"You mind if I borrow one?" Ocelot inquired, to which Hawks handed him a sharpened feather. With it now in hand, Ocelot stepped over to Ghost Leopard, before peeling away a small portion of the hero's shirt.
"You know, people tend to forget how vulnerable we humans are," Ocelot began, moving the feather over to Ghost Leopard's chest.
"All these unique quirks and abilities teach people of their invincibility, of their power," Ocelot continued, "But when it comes down to it, people forget just how easy it is for flesh to break."
Ocelot pushed the feather into Ghost Leopard's chest, and like a knife through butter, he carved away a part of his muscle. Not enough to kill him or hurt anything vital, but enough to cause Ghost Leopard to shout in pain. Soon a solid square of flesh fell to the ground, drenching the floor in blood.
"The ultimate form of expression I call it," Ocelot told him, flicking bits of blood off the feather. He held up the feather again, moving it towards Ghost Leopard's chest. The hero shifted trying to avoid it but was futile. Slowly Ocelot pushed it into the hero's chest, causing Ghost Leopard to groan in pain.
"Now," Ocelot began again, slowly carving out another piece, "who hired you?"
"I-I don't know, he promised he'd manipulate the hero rankings if I helped him!" Ghost Leopard replied. His voice was strained as he did so.
"All he gave me was a list of targets!"
"So, you killed more than one rep then. What about his goals, did he give any hint as to why he wanted them dead?"
"I don't know, he never said anything about it!"
"Somehow I don't believe that."
"It's true! He never… told…"
Ocelot paused as Ghost Leopard tried to breathe. He stepped back as the hero struggled, confused as to what was happening.
"What did you do!?" Ghost Leopard tried to demand, his body acting against his wishes. Ocelot could only watch as the hero looked up defiantly one last time before his head slumped down. He turned to Hawks, finding him equally as shocked. Stepping forward, Ocelot checked Ghost Leopard's pulse, only to find nothing. He silently swore as he stepped back. He wasn't sure what had happened, but it was like he died of a heart attack.
"Strangelove," Miller greeted, stepping into the doctor's lab, "You need something?"
"A second opinion," she replied, motioning him forward. Inside the lab, scientists roamed about, working on whatever projects they could think of. At the same time, he spotted Paz watching over Hal at a nearby workbench. The two waved when they saw him, as Strangelove kept him moving forward.
"Hal seems to be doing well," he commented, finding a small smile on Strangelove's face.
"I found him tearing apart a computer yesterday. He said he was trying to fix it," she told him, a strong fondness in her voice. It made Miller chuckle as they kept moving forward.
"Explains why I found my watch in pieces," Miller replied.
"I hope he didn't break it," Strangelove inquired.
"Heh, not at all. The damn thing works as good as the day I bought it." Miller answered as the two came to a stop in the R&D department's ballistics range. Around them, scientists tested out different weapons and ordinances. The most prominent of which were the blueprints Nezu had given them. However, he did notice a rather odd one quite quickly. It was large and bulky, with a long charging cable leading to a battery. Strangelove noticed his curiosity and waved it off.
"Hand-held railgun," she explained, "it's still in its testing phase I'm afraid."
Miller looked back at her incredulously not believing the words he had just heard. But Strangelove didn't indulge him further, instead motioning him to a firing range. Overcoming the sudden surprise, Miller looked down at the range's table, finding an XM7 sitting on top.
"We've managed to create a working copy of the rifle, however, some of the soldiers testing it had a few complaints. And with Soul unavailable at the moment, that leaves me to test it, so I need your assistance," she told him.
"Well, let's get started then," Miller replied, picking up the rifle. And the first thing he noticed was the weight. It had caught him off guard how heavy it was. An M4 weighed around six pounds without any ammo. This thing felt like nine. It didn't seem like much, but all the other equipment a soldier carried meant it would add up fast.
"Weight might be an issue," he told Strangelove, the doctor quickly writing it down. He held up the rifle and inspected the chamber. Finding it loaded he aimed at a target and turned off the safety. Then with a quick three-round burst, he saw the target get hit. He also felt it, as the rifle had a bit of a kick.
"What's this chambered in?" he asked, removing the magazine from the rifle.
"It fires 6.8, with twenty-round magazines."
"Twenty rounds is going to be a problem," Miller told her, "Most infantry squads get two hundred and ten rounds max. We're looking at one forty with this thing."
Miller looked over the rifle then, inspecting it thoroughly. A few adjustments might need to be made, but it was still a gun. It would work.
"See if you can get this chambered in 5.56 or at the very least a bigger mag." Miller told her, "The 6.8 one will be a standard battle rifle, the 5.56 with be a standard assault rifle."
He set the rifle down then, finding Strangelove busy with her notes.
"Was there anything else?" he asked.
"Not at the moment, however, the prototypes for XM250 should be finishing in an hour," Strangelove answered.
"A shame. I was hoping to try that railgun you mentioned." Miller commented, looking over at the railgun.
"I wouldn't, it'll punch your arm out of its socket," Strangelove told him, before walking off in the direction of Hal. At that moment his codec was beginning to ring. Finding it to be Snake he answered it.
"Kaz," Snake began, "I need you to check some coordinates for me."
"There's nothing here," Miller told him, to which Snake grumbled in response. It had been a few days of driving from Belarus's border to Russian Siberia, with most of it spent going over maps. They had tried the numbers as a frequency at first, and sure enough, they worked. Not in the way they expected though, as the number went over to an automated message repeating a line of binary. The binary was translated to "Welcome to the show". So, all in all it gave them nothing.
They contacted Miller then, hoping to get some information on the general area. Instead, they found themselves caught in a small blizzard in a forest. Now snow pounded on the SUV's windshield as they drove forward. The roaring winds from the blizzard would push the car around, not enough to cause harm, but to make driving annoying. Something Nagant became all the more vocal about, while Snake went over maps Miller sent him.
"It might be due to the blizzard's interference, but the satellites can't see anything," Miller explained further.
"It's not that," Snake countered, "Even normal maps don't show anything, just a massive forest. The coordinates could be wrong."
"It could also be underground," Nagant stated.
"Possibly, but that begs the question, where's the entrance?" Snake told her, thinking over their next action.
"We've got a couple of GBU-28s if needed," Miller suggested, though there was hesitance in his voice. And for good reason.
"Too risky," Snake replied, "one wrong move and we blow up a group of prisoners."
"Not to mention the attention it would bring us," Nagant added, before swearing the SUV away from a rock. She swore as she did so, having to avoid a tree as well. Yet she soon spotted something down the road. It was a small clearing in the tree line, with tire tracks visible in the snow.
"Boss," she said slowing down the car as Snake looked over, "Found a clearing over here with tire tracks."
"Fresh tracks, in this weather?" Snake muttered looking over at the clearing.
"Might be recent," Nagant told him, as the SUV came to a stop at the clearing.
"Lines up with the map too," Snake added, looking down at the coordinates listed. He didn't realize how close they were until now.
"Odd," Miller said, "There's no clearing on satellite either."
"It's covered up," Snake deduced, "the trees are large enough to cover up the path, making it unnoticeable."
"Unless you're right next to it," Nagant realized.
"A hidden pathway then," Miller stated, "I'll see if I can get any drones or aircraft into the area. Maybe they'll see what the satellites can't."
"So, we going in?" Nagant asked, answered by a calm nod from Snake. She turned the steering wheel around, and the SUV went with it. Along the way, the forest seemed to get darker as the trees appeared taller. Looking up, Snake couldn't see the sky anymore, only the thick branches of the tall trees. The further they went, the more recent the tire tracks became. Soon enough something became visible in the forest.
It was a lone sign resting in the middle of a wide clearing. It was wide open, but the top was still covered up by large foliage. The sign however was the more worrying part.
"That's a human face," Nagant muttered, disgust becoming present in her voice.
"It looks like it's been there a while," Snake noted. It appeared as if it was frozen on the sign, and showed it reaching the decaying process. Looking around, Snake found the tire tracks would stop, right in front of the sign. A sign that simply said "Welcome".
