Entropy

by Imperium42

Midoriya Izuku didn't change overnight. The process was slow and gradual, the end result of a life filled with rejections and roadblocks- but everyone has a breaking point. Destruction brings renewal, and with the death of his old dream, Izuku has found a new one- one he intends to share. All orderly systems descend into chaos. No one is immune to entropy, heroes least of all.

36. Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

Chapter 36: Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

Chiba, Eastern Tokyo Bay

Tartarus Detention Facility

10 April, 12:30PM

---

"Inmate 665-698- on program. Hands behind your head, fingers together, feet apart."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill, buddy."

Tsutsumi Kaina let out a heavy, exasperated sigh as she straightened her posture, stretched her arms upward, and intertwined her fingers just above her pink and indigo-streaked hair, rolling her eyes as the pair of guards each produced a retractable metallic wand and began to wave them along her limbs.

"You know, you could skip this and save us all some time- you're not gonna find anything today either. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the-"

"Quiet, Nagant," the second and shorter of the guards snapped; a lean and wiry woman around Kaina's age, she sported dark brown hair tied up in a bun just beneath the back rim of the infamous black and red cap that completed every Tartarus guard's uniform. "No one asked you to talk."

Satisfied with the results of the electronic sweep, the female guard exchanged a curt nod with her colleague; once he'd taken a step back towards the cell's door, she swiftly moved on to the physical portion of the search, patting roughly up and down Kaina's waist, chest, and legs. As the guard's prodding fingertips reached her inner thighs- a popular place to strap shivs, according to word of mouth in the exercise yard- Kaina felt her brow twitch in slight annoyance, and before she could reconsider, the first thought that came to mind spilled from her mouth in a dry deadpan.

"Gettin' friskier than usual today, huh? Take a girl to dinner first."

"You got a real smart mouth there, 665-698." The taller of the pair of guards, a burly man with tiger-like features, including a feline face and paws, slit-pupiled yellow eyes, and orange fur striped with black, casually unholstered the stun baton strapped to his belt, pressing down on the trigger for a brief moment to allow a sizzling bolt of blue-white electrical energy to crackle between the prongs at its tip. "After eight years in this place, I thought you woulda learned by now when to keep it shut."

"I guess some things never change," Kaina replied with a shrug of resignation, gazing down at the female guard with tired, listless eyes as the woman rose finished her search and rose back to her feet.

"She's clean, sir."

"Hmm." The male guard glanced down to meet Kaina's gaze, brows furrowed in contempt. For a few agonizing seconds, she found herself wondering if she'd earned a beating or a stay in the punishment cells- it wouldn't be her first brush with either- but he relented a moment later, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door with his baton, his fangs bared. "Come on, move- we have a schedule to keep. I hear any more backtalk, and you'll be spending a night in the Coffins."

As she stepped forward towards the cell's open doorway, Kaina made a zipping motion across her mouth with one hand, and the guard scoffed before shoving her out into the hall.

"Eyes forward."

"Look on the bright side, hero-killer," the female guard added, a mocking smirk on her face as she turned to seal the half-meter-thick metal door of cell C-46 behind them. "You've got another sixty years in your sentence to work on that comedy routine."

Unwilling to risk anything further with a reply, Kaina lapsed into silence for the rest of their trio's walk down the starkly lit corridor, eyes practically glazed over in boredom as she shuffled through the motions of her daily trip to the prison's common area, one of the 'privileges' she'd earned for her good behavior. The doors of other cells lined the starkly lit and otherwise featureless hall on either side- twenty-four in total for this corridor- but Kaina wasn't exactly afforded the opportunity to chat with her neighbors, given that the cells were windowless and soundproof.

"We still on schedule?" The feline guard murmured, glancing over toward his female colleague.

"Running ahead," she replied, glancing down at her watch. "Plus-thirty, easy. No trouble, sir."

If nothing else, Tartarus was an institution built around routines. The prison and its staff prided themselves on their obsessive fixation with operational discipline- every aspect of life inside the facility's walls was rigorously structured and monitored, designed to operate as smoothly as clockwork with as little security risk as possible. The prisoners who had earned common area access were escorted from their cells to their destination one at a time in precise, five-minute intervals, and the same was true for the return trip, all to ensure that the number of inmates in the cell block hallways never matched or exceeded the number of guards at any time.

And they've definitely got no shortage in that department, Kaina mused, eyes narrowed as a squad of four guards marched past them on patrol, toting shotguns in place of stun batons. Two more waited at the sealed access point to the common area a dozen meters ahead, their eyes following Kaina with suspicion and contempt as she and her monitors approached. Though they'd already been almost comically stringent to begin with, security measures throughout the prison had noticeably tightened in recent weeks, and it was no secret why. The Syndicate- bunch of teenage pricks running wild all over the country. Back in the day, I bet I could've flatlined their whole little gang in one afternoon. A grim scowl spread across Kaina's face, though it quickly hiked up into a half-grin. Then again, maybe it's better they run wild- sounds like they've really got those slimy fucks at the HPSC shitting their pants.

A faint, muffled noise of amusement escaped Kaina's mouth as they drew to a halt at the checkpoint, and one of the guards waiting for them gave her a pointed glare as they waved her through a tall archway buzzing with electric energy, not unlike the weapons detectors at an airport. Unlike the routine checks that had been in place since her arrival eight years ago, though, this particular measure was less than a month old; apparently, it was connected to one of the same Syndicate delinquents, a girl whose quirk could mimic appearances. Toga- no, Carmilla, right? Heard a lot of stories about that little psycho- doubt half of 'em are true, though.

"She's clear," the guard declared after a moment's silence, gazing down at a glass datapad to check the scan's results; for her part, Kaina was barely paying attention, but as usual, she saw a flash of green out of the corner of her eye. "Play nice, Nagant- four hours, starting now."

Offering only a sarcastic, two-fingered salute in response, Kaina stepped into the pressurized access chamber with a heavy sigh of exhaustion, swaying her head idly from side to side as the outer door slammed shut behind her. For a brief moment, Kaina was alone in the windowless metal box, with nothing but the faint hum of the ceiling lights overhead for company, and she found her absentminded gaze drifting down to the fabric of her orange jumpsuit. Ah, shit. Still got a stain there from breakfast.

The inner door to the common area opened before she could reach down to inspect it, though, three interlocking plates of metal parting with a hydraulic hiss, and all at once, a wave of chatter and noise slammed into her, dozens of overlapping voices joining together with the clatter of metal food trays. The prison's mess hall dominated the room just ahead, a wide, multi-story chamber with dozens of picnic-style metal tables arranged in neat rows and a galley kitchen at the far end of the hall, cordoned off behind thick safety glass. At the center of the chamber, a panopticon-style guard tower kept watch over the inmates below, the windows of its octagonal command hub tinted a menacing black. The kitchen only offered only one set menu per day, with little to speak of in the way of flavor or variety, but Kaina's expectations had never been high to begin with, and this many years into her sentence, it had all begun to taste the same regardless. Through a set of doors to the right- and another security checkpoint- inmates could access the exercise yard, although calling it a 'yard' was patently misleading; the chamber was sealed off on all sides by cold metal walls, just like the rest of the facility. The mere thought of allowing any prisoners access to open air was as inconceivable at Tartarus as the concept of privacy.

Finally, past the exercise area, select prisoners on good behavior were granted access to a pitifully understocked library- apparently, its installation had been the result of years of campaigning by human rights activists. Unsurprisingly, though, it was seldom frequented- ten years prior, the guards had discovered that a group of prisoners were using books to coordinate an escape plan, hiding coded messages for each other by dog-earing certain pages and discreetly marking specific words, and implemented a new policy specifying that inmates using the library would be assigned a designated monitor for the duration of their visit to ensure that they didn't 'tamper with prison property'. Kaina had given the library a try out of sheer boredom on one or two occasions earlier in her stay, but as it turned out, reading a book with a guard breathing down one's neck was hardly an enjoyable or relaxing experience, and she hadn't returned in years.

In all, only around a third of Tartarus' total inmate population were permitted access to the common area, with the remainder deemed too high of a security risk and confined to their cells at all hours. It had taken Kaina eleven months of mind-numbing, sanity-sapping solitude to make the list, but judging by her conversations with other inmates, that was on the shorter end for someone with a quirk as lethal and a reputation as infamous as hers. The lucky few deemed worthy of the privilege were certainly no saints, though; as Kaina stepped out into the cavernous chamber, she counted dozens of murderers and terrorists among the crowd of inmates eating their lunch- arsonists, drug traffickers, infamous menaces to society. Unlike ordinary prisons, Tartarus' common area wasn't segregated by gender, aside from the showers and restrooms- while Kaina's cell block and a few others were occupied exclusively by women, likely out of pure tradition, there was no enforcement of separation in the cafeteria, exercise yard, or library, a testament to the prison staff's absolute confidence in their ability to halt any instance of unsanctioned physical contact between inmates.

Cameras were ubiquitous throughout the facility, a massive web of surveillance infrastructure that left no corner of the prison unmonitored at any given moment, affectionally nicknamed 'the Hydra'- it was a common joke among inmates that even the sewage pipes were bugged and watched at all times. And if any one of the Hydra's thousand glass-and-metal heads caught sight of a protocol violation, security rotations were designed to ensure that a squad of heavily armed guards with license to kill on sight was never more than fifteen seconds away from any location on the prison's grounds. If the guards were somehow delayed, around half of the cameras also doubled as remotely controlled machine gun turrets, a constant reminder for each inmate that their lives could be snuffed out without warning at a moment's notice, even in their sleep; a turret was fixed in each cell, after all. No fewer than twelve of the camera-turret hybrids kept watch over this section of the common area, with eight attached to the central guard tower and four more fixed around the corners of the hall. Above the cameras, a network of metal catwalks stretched along the room's perimeter and connected to the guard tower from all four sides, allowing units of rifle-armed guards to respond with lethal force to any security incidents while remaining out of the prisoners' reach. In her eight years at the facility, Kaina had only witnessed the guards or turrets open fire with lethal rounds on four occasions: twice to break up fights that had escalated out of hand and twice to halt poorly planned escape attempts, neither of which she'd been a party to- the grisly results tended to be quite successful in disincentivizing any further disorderly conduct.

Only an idiot or a goddamn basket case would try and bust outta this place. Kaina's eyes steadily glazed over in boredom as she made her way to the food line, tapped her quirk-suppressing shackle on a scanner to punch her lunch ticket, and received a tray of food through the window from a grim-faced kitchen worker, her body moving more by subconscious routine than by her own volition. It's an easy way to commit suicide, at least. What's that old joke? 'Getting out of Tartarus is simple if you know the trick- just start running in the guards' direction, and they'll end your life sentence on the spot, free of charge.'

"Kaina, over here. Saved you a seat."

Blinking back to conscious thought midway through the sea of tables, she glanced in the direction of a familiar voice; Hasaki Kiruka was waving in her direction, her bright, coppery red hair easily visible in the crowd. The guards kept it clipped to chin length for safety reasons, but it had been quite the majestic sight in her heyday, according to Kiruka's stories- her quirk could turn her hair into hardened blades or needle-like projectiles, so she'd kept it grown out past her waist, styled into elaborate loops. 'Slice' had been her villain alias, but her career had proved short-lived- after kidnapping a child for his cell regeneration quirk and injuring several U.A. students in the process, she and her comrades only enjoyed a few brief weeks of infamy before a joint international hero team led by Star and Stripe tracked them down to a remote Pacific island and captured them, freeing their young hostage. Though she'd been brought in around a year ago, Slice had only been granted access to the common area six months prior- a fresh face, by Tartarus standards. Her three partners in crime were all still confined to their cells, their quirks deemed too dangerous by comparison.

"Thanks," Kaina murmured quietly in reply, giving Kiruka a barely perceptible nod of gratitude as she settled into the seat across from her.

Even after seven years of common area access, Kaina remained highly averse to the idea of making any so-called 'friends' in Tartarus- in her experience both before and after her imprisonment, attachments never came without baggage, and trust only helped sharpen the knife for betrayal. Despite her tendency towards suspicion, though, six months had passed since she first spoke to Kiruka without any sign of duplicity or ulterior motives, and Kaina wasn't yet bitter enough to turn away a chance at some meager semblance of companionship. Even if she'd been more socially inclined from the start, though, most of the other prisoners bitterly resented her past life as a hero- after all, Lady Nagant had put dozens of villains in Tartarus, and an equal number in the ground during her stint as the Public Safety Commission president's personal executioner, head of Strike Team Valkyrie. Kaina had long since grown accustomed to being shunned and ridiculed by her fellow inmates- spat on, tripped, doused in hot tea or cold milk. Most knew better than to take it any further than casual harassment- getting into an actual fight was just short of asking for a bullet, after all- but there had been a few instances of physical violence over the years, most of which had been broken up by the guards before they could escalate to anything. Luckily for her, Tartarus took painstaking measures to ensure that the inmates didn't have access to anything they could use as a shiv, and even in the gym, there were no free weights that could be used as bludgeons- everything was connected to exercise machines, all which were heavily monitored to prevent tampering.

I wouldn't have made it this long otherwise, Kaina mused, glancing up at the blacked-out windows of the guard tower. If they wanted to, the easiest way for the government to kill me would be to ship me off to some 'lower-security' facility. Even in a women's section, I'd probably end up shanked inside a week.

"…So," Kaina finally managed, clearing her throat as she glanced down at the second food tray Kiruka had brought for her, "which type of toxic waste is it today?"

"The one with beef that tastes like shoe leather," Hasaki replied with a sigh, poking at her rice porridge and unseasoned cubes of grey meat- the latter was soaked in watery, flavorless gravy that might have been reasonably mistaken for the contents of a muddy rain puddle.

"Calling this 'beef' is an insult to cows," Kaina shot back, her eyes narrowed as she scooped up a piece of the meat with her spoon and gazed at it in disappointment. In yet another testament to the obsessive meticulousness of the prison's security protocols, there were no forks, knives, or chopsticks in the Tartarus mess hall, and the spoons were made of a bendable, rubbery silicon material. "I've always wondered- how the hell do they manage to make it so goddamn chewy? I feel like this shit's gotta be synthetic, no way it came from a real animal."

"God, I'd do anything for a steak." Swallowing a bite of beef and porridge with a grimace, Kiruka set aside her spoon and ran her hands down her face with a guttural sigh of desperation. "I fucking dreamed about steak the other night, Kaina- this filet of Kobe beef I had at some fancy restaurant for my twentieth birthday. It was medium rare, perfectly cooked, with this goddamn red wine sauce that I could've drank a whole bowl of, and they served it with-"

"Stop, stop!" Kaina finally reached out and grabbed Slice by the wrists, her brows furrowed in frustration."Jesus Christ, Kiruka, don't pull that shit- thinking about it just makes this crap taste that much worse."

As if to punctuate her point, Kaina's stomach growled loudly in protest, and she slammed one fist down on the table in frustration before digging into her leathery beef with a grimace as torturous images of sirloin and filet mignon flooded involuntarily into her head.

"…Sorry," Kiruka finally murmured, her demeanor noticeably downtrodden as she resumed eating her own food. "You're right."

For a brief moment, Kaina considered apologizing, but she dismissed the notion with a quiet huff. God, she's so damn sensitive for a terrorist. As they ate in silence, another pair of female inmates took a seat on the other end of their table- even with the lack of gender segregation, women tended to group together in the mess hall out of pure instinct- and shot a series of sneers and leering glares in Kaina's direction, bombarding her with profanities and juvenile insults. As usual, she paid them no heed, tuning out their voices and forcing herself to focus only on her food; they quickly gave up and shifted back into their own conversation, leaving Kaina and Hiruka in relative peace. As she choked down her last bite of flavorless beef and mushy rice, Kaina let out a heavy sigh, and forced herself to speak up again- to fill the silence, if nothing else.

"…For me, it's tsukemen."

"Huh?" Hiruka glanced up from the last few bites of her porridge, blinking.

"Tsukemen," Kaina repeated, glancing hesitantly upwards to meet Kiruka's eyes. "Don't tell me you've never had it- it's like ramen, but you dip the noodles in the broth instead of eating it all together."

"I know what it is," Hiruka shot back with a smirk, pausing to take another bite. "What about it?"

"That's the food I dream about the most," Kaina replied bluntly, shoving her empty tray off to the side. Her head was already full of images of all the dishes she missed from before, and there was no getting rid of them. Might as well roll with it. "I used to work night shifts pretty often as a hero, so there would only be a few restaurants still open in the neighborhood around my apartment when I got back at five or six. Most of them were just shitty fast-food spots, but there was this one 24-hour place that only did tsukemen, and it was…"

Kaina let out a quiet chuckle and pinched at the bridge of her nose with one hand, her eyes squeezed briefly shut as her mouth twisted up into a grin.

"Fuck, man. It was just perfect. They put so much goddamn garlic and chili paste in the broth that it was probably a biohazard- bet my breath smelled like shit for days afterward. They'd always give me a mountain of chashu because I was a regular, and the noodles were the best I've ever had, perfectly cooked. I went there two, three times a week for almost five years, and I never got tired of it. Not even close."

A wave of bittersweet nostalgia slammed into her as she spoke, but a persistent lump in her throat stifled her attempt to laugh at the memories; against her better judgement, Kaina found herself at a loss for words, eyes blinking rapidly as she struggled to stifle the ache of longing for a life she could never regain.

Idiot. Guess you needed a reminder, huh? This is why we don't think about this shit.

"So, yeah." Kaina cleared her throat and glanced back up to meet Kiruka's gaze. "I'd do anything to have that goddamn tsukemen again before I die. Not really looking likely at this rate, but…" She trailed off and gave an exaggerated shrug, then slammed her palms down against the table in frustration.

After a short, wordless pause filled only with the background chatter of the mess hall, Kiruka reached out a tentative hand towards her, but Kaina brushed it away, shaking her head and swiftly reverting to her usual, exasperated demeanor.

"Come on, no more use in moping. Let's hit the gym before it gets too crowded."

"Yeah." Kiruka gave a quiet nod, joining Kaina in rising to her feet, and for a brief moment, a bare hint of a grin was visible at the far corner of her mouth. "Yeah, sounds good."

---

16 April

"Y'know, a few years back, before you got here, there was another beef dish they used to serve, just on Fridays- gyudon, or something close to it, at least."

"No shit?" Kiruka glanced up from her beef and porridge to with a curious expression on her face.

"It was only once a week," Kaina conceded with a shrug, "but it actually tasted like food instead of sewage, and everybody went fucking nuts over it, trying to haggle with each other for extra portions, begging the lunch workers to give 'em more, that kinda shit. Anyway, long story short, after a few months, it disappeared- just vanished from the menu, never to be seen again." Kaina made a poof gesture with her hands, then aimed her spoon down at the remnants of her beef, her eyes narrowed in spite. "They replaced it with this shit. People got angry, yelling at the guards and the lunch staff- this group of twenty, thirty inmates went banging on the kitchen windows, nearly got themselves shot over fucking gyudon."

"Nah, there's no goddamn way," Kiruka shot back, her eyes narrowed in a mix of skepticism and amusement. "You can't convince me this place ever served anything remotely edible."

"They did, believe it or not, for a few glorious months. And that right there, the day they took it off the menu- that was the moment it finally dawned on me that they don't want us to actually enjoy anything we eat here." Kaina leaned forward across the table, tapping her index finger down against the metal and lowering her voice to a bitter growl. "Because if the food tastes good, then there's a tiny fraction of the day when we're not being punished. And forget all that bullshit about 'rehabilitation'- 24/7 punishment is this place's whole purpose. We stepped out of line, we fucked with the system, and now we get to spend the rest of our lives suffering for it."

Kiruka gave a slow nod of understanding and agreement, her grin shifting to a grimace. After a moment's contemplation, she leaned forward until her mouth was level with Kaina's ear, her voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes narrowed.

"…You're not actually here for killing another hero, are you?"

Kaina's brows hiked momentarily in surprise, then swiftly furrowed in skepticism; she glanced to the side to meet Kiruka's gaze, keeping her voice steady and even.

"And how do you figure that?"

Before Slice could reply, the bright red dot of a tactical laser sight appeared on her forehead, and the bellowing voice of a guard sounded from above.

"You two, table twelve! Thirty centimeters, now!"

While Kiruka jerked backwards out of reflex, nearly falling from her seat in a panic, Kaina calmly and deliberately straightened her posture, then glanced up to lock eyes with the guard in question, making no attempt to hide the annoyance and contempt on her face.

"That far enough for you, sir?"

Perched half a dozen meters above them on the catwalk ringing the hall, the officer shifted his rifle's barrel towards Kaina in reply, forcing her to reach a hand up and shield her eyes against the laser sight's blinding red glare.

"No backtalk, Nagant! One more word and you're going back in the Coffins!"

Forcing her mouth shut once again, Kaina simply raised her hands in the air and glanced back over at Kiruka, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Tartarus' '30-centimeter rule', stipulating the minimum permissible distance between any two inmates, was sporadically enforced in the common area due to its sheer impracticality, but a certain few guards seemed to take great pleasure in policing any trace of body contact in the mess hall and gym.

"There. Was that so hard, ladies?" The guard scoffed down at them, then finally switched off his laser sight and turned away, resuming his patrol route. "Don't let it happen again."

"Dumb hero bitch," One of the three female inmates occupying the other end of their table, a wiry woman with ratty, tangled blonde hair tied in a ponytail and a jagged scar running from her right cheek to her lips, let out a sadistic cackle, sneering in Kaina's direction. "He shoulda done us all a favor and flatlined you."

"Painted the floor with her brains!" Another chimed in, mimicking a gunshot against her head with her fingers with a peal of shrill laughter. "Shit, that woulda made my fuckin' day."

As usual, Kaina simply ignored them, taking a long sip from her plastic cup of lukewarm barley tea as they continued their taunts; she'd long since learned not to engage.

"Wanna find another table?" Kiruka murmured, perching her chin on one hand. After witnessing numerous similar incidents over the past few months she'd been eating lunch with Kaina, she thankfully seemed to understand the futility as well.

"Nah, they feel like they 'won' if they get you to run away." Kaina shrugged and reached up to rub at her heavy eyelids, keeping her voice low enough that the other women couldn't hear. "Plus, shows of weakness aren't good for your rep in this place. Always best to just wait for them to get bored, like usual."

As the women steadily tired themselves out with a barrage of increasingly unoriginal and uninspired taunts and insults, Kaina glanced back up at the catwalks out of idle curiosity, checking whether any of the guards were watching. While the prison's administration preferred to project the image that their security forces were a cold and emotionless monolith, operating in complete lockstep, many of Tartarus' guards could be sorted into groups by the specific rules they chose to enforce more strictly or more loosely. In contrast to the '30-Centimeter Police' as the guards who zealously sought out any illicit physical proximity were often nicknamed, another distinct group, the 'Arena Spectators', seemed to greatly enjoy watching prisoners hurl abuse at each other, sometimes even going so far as to egg them on in the hopes that the fight would escalate and become an enforceable incident. To them, Tartarus' inmates were no different than horses at the derby, and Kaina maintained a longstanding suspicion that many of the Spectator guards ran secret betting rings on which inmates would snap and attack each other first, and which prison gangs would grow to be most dominant. Gangs were officially forbidden, of course, but there were some age-old practices that even Tartarus could never stamp out completely- in an enclosed, threatening environment, coalescing into tribal groups was a hardwired human instinct.

And then there are the pariahs like me, Kaina mused with a hint of a smirk. The ones no tribe is willing to take. Sooner or later, Kiruka'll move on and join a bigger group to increase her survival odds- at the end of the day, there's no fighting that caveman shit.

At the moment, only one guard seemed to be monitoring their table, leaning against the railing almost directly above them; Kaina had to shift in her seat and crane her head to get a good look at him, keeping her movements as subtle and nonchalant as possible to avoid catching his attention. In a rare development, he seemed to be a new face- on the younger side, perhaps early twenties, with heavy lavender bangs and a ponytail. The guard's expression was a common one among Tartarus personnel- imperious and arrogant- but his eyes widened slightly in recognition as he glanced down to meet Kaina's gaze, and a new emotion spread across his face: fascination, but somehow patronizing, like a scientist gazing down at his prize lab rat. Frowning, Kaina swiftly turned back to her tray, attempting to play off their brief eye contact as accidental, but she was unable to shake the impression that the young man's face was somehow familiar.

I swear I've seen him before- somewhere in Tartarus, not on the outside. But that doesn't make any sense, he would've just been a kid when I was locked up in here. Think, stupid, think- where do you know this little fucker from? Closing her eyes and ticking through her mental catalog of faces, a skill she'd honed in her hero days, Kaina finally arrived at a near-match a few seconds later, her eyes widening in revelation. Wait, is he related to…?

"Seiji, there you are. I trust your first patrol shift is going well?"

A series of heavy footfalls on metal announced the approach of a second guard on the catwalk above them, and a quick, furtive glance confirmed her suspicion- seeing the two together, the resemblance was undeniable.

"…I thought I made it clear that you mustn't call me that, Deputy Warden Shishikura." Seiji, the younger guard, flushed red in embarrassment and indignation as his older colleague approached, a tall and lean man in his late forties sporting the same distinctive hair color and the distinctive cap and insignia shared by the prison's highest-ranked officers. "It's inappropriate, and unbecoming of both our stations."

"It's alright, son. I appreciate your dedication, but you can drop the act when it's just the two of us."

The deputy warden reached out to lay a hand on Seiji's shoulder, but he pulled away from the gesture, his arms crossed. Both men had dropped to a quieter volume as they continued to speak, but thanks to a well-timed lull in the background chatter around the hall, Kaina was able to follow along with their conversation by filtering out everything else and concentrating solely on their voices, another skill she'd spent years refining.

"Father, please. We're on duty, and our relationship makes it all the more imperative that we follow each and every regulation to the letter. I refuse to risk sparking any rumors of nepotism or favoritism that could harm your reputation or that of Tartarus itself. Please understand- It is my respect for you and for this institution that compels me to take this position." Seiji gave a heavy sigh, leaning against the railing and running a gloved hand down his face. "For both our sakes, I must stand on my own two feet."

"…I understand, Security Officer Shishikura," the older man finally replied, nodding in appreciation. "You're right- it's for the best that we both leave those ties behind when we step into this facility. Carry on with your duties, then, and let me know if you have any questions."

"I do have one," Seiji replied promptly, hands clasped dutifully behind his back. "Have you and the warden had a chance to review my proposal for the new common area access passes?"

"Yes, we have- let's discuss the matter in my office."

The two men swiftly departed along the catwalk towards an exit leading deeper into the prison, and Kaina let out a sigh of exhaustion as the noise of the rest of the mess hall finally filtered back in. Well, at the very least, this is some decent gossip, Kaina mused, watching the pair leave with both her brows still raised in a mix of surprise and confusion. That big-shot Shishikura went and hired his own kid, huh? But what's the little bastard want from me? I guess he's about the age where he could've been a fan of mine before I got locked up, but then again, maybe I was just reading too much into things…

A moment later, though, just before the pair stepped through the doorway, Seiji suddenly turned and looked back in Kaina's direction, meeting her gaze for another brief moment with a knowing, confident smirk on his face. Shuddering in repulsion, she swiftly glanced away out of reflex, but her suspicions had been confirmed regardless; for some reason or another, the deputy warden's son seemed to have taken a particular interest in her.

He's clearly trying to send me some kind of message, but I've got no clue what it is. 'I know who you are'? No, that doesn't work- my identity's not a secret in here. 'I know what you did'? Not likely- he's way too young to have access any classified intel from back in my day. Kaina's mind had leapt unquestioningly back into her old methods of analysis, firing off neurons that hadn't been used in years as she stared blankly down at her tray. Maybe just a simple 'I'm watching you'? But that still doesn't account for motivation. Why me specifically? Is he giving all the 'notorious' prisoners this same treatment? Kaina let out a heavy sigh, cradling her head in exasperation. God, I just hope it's not some weird sex thing.

Like many popular female heroes- and plenty of male ones- she'd been the subject of a fair number of unauthorized porn parodies, erotic cosplay outfits, and unlicensed sex toys over the years, though she'd tried her best to ignore the matter and leave it to her agency's lawyers to sort out. The last goddamn thing I need in here is some skeevy stalker fuck who watched 'Nagant in the Nude' way too many times joining the guard rotation.

Across from her, Kiruka had spent the past few minutes finishing up her meal, blissfully oblivious to the conversation happening overhead and Kaina's contemplation of her new dilemma; after a long sip of tea, Slice glanced up from her tray and aimed her spoon in her companion's direction with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Hey, so did that guard say he'd put you back in the Coffins? You've definitely never mentioned that you stayed in one before. You secretly some kinda big-time delinquent, Kaina?"

"It's, uh… not something I really try to think about," Kaina replied hesitantly, blinking as she shifted gears back into her conversation with Kiruka. "It was my second year in this place- I got reckless and stupid. Broke the common area's number one rule."

When she glanced up from her cup a moment later, Kiruka was still waiting expectantly for her to continue, her brows raised in anticipation, and Kaina couldn't help but smirk. She loves hearing me talk, huh? Guess I'll play the storyteller.

"Don't throw the first punch. I was still pretty new, and this guy I helped lock up decided he wanted to spend his precious free time trying to make my life miserable. You ever heard of a villain called Basilisk?"

"The name sounds familiar," Kiruka murmured, stroking her chin as her eyes narrowed in concentration. "I wanna say he was big like eight, ten years ago? I remember seeing the news reports about his bank robberies."

"Yeah, his whole deal was that his quirk could instantly paralyze people if they made eye contact with him- took hours to wear off, too. He started small, just using it to mug people, but then he got greedy- put together a crew, started calling himself 'Basilisk', and moved on to convenience stores. All he had to do freeze the cashier before they could trip the alarm, then take all the money from the register and the safe, piece of cake. Then it was jewelry stores, then banks- same principle with the teller. You can see where this is going."

Kaina shrugged, leaning back in her chair with her fingers interlaced behind her head.

"It was honestly pretty impressive, in a twisted kinda way. All in all, it only took this guy like six months to go from bottom-feeder street thief to the top of the criminal ladder. They called him the 'Terror of Kagoshima'- he had the whole city in a panic for a month straight. Motherfucker even started a merch boom- when he got big, scammers started selling these 'specially designed' sunglasses and eye shields, claimed they protected you from his quirk if you ran into him, and lemme tell you, this shit was flying off the shelves." Kaina felt a grin spread slowly across her face at the memory, and she struggled to stifle a laugh; across the table, Kiruka was smiling too. "For a few weeks there, you walked down any street on Kagoshima at any time of day, and nine outta ten people were wearing these worthless fuckin' things, even kids. The whole town was rocking sunglasses 24/7, no matter the weather, even inside, even at night- it was mass goddamn hysteria."

"Hey, maybe they were all just really big fans of the song," Kiruka cut in, snickering.

"…Huh?" Kaina blinked in confusion, her eyes narrowing. "What song?"

"You know, that one that goes 'sunglasses at night'?"

Kaina replied with a blank stare, and Kiruka waved her hand dismissively, her cheeks briefly flushing red in embarrassment.

"Ah, nevermind- you must not be an oldies fan. So anyway, apologies if my memory's failing me here, but if the guy was causing so much panic, why didn't they just have All Might go in and take him down?"

"This was all happening right after the big guy got injured fighting…"

All For One, she almost said, only to catch herself at the last moment. As the leader of Strike Team Valkyrie and the protégé of the then-HPSC president, she'd been privy to all of the Commission's dirty laundry, including the continued existence of All For One, and she'd seen firsthand the classified report of All Might's near-fatal clash with the supervillain. Why am I still keeping their secrets? Kaina grimaced, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. Not like I have much to lose anymore if I start blabbing.

"…Some random villain." She finally concluded with an ambivalent shrug. I don't really feel like going down that rabbit hole right now- save it for some other day. "So, point is, he was out of action at the time. But even then, it's not like the HPSC didn't have other options- me, Endeavor, Gang Orca, Eraserhead. There were plenty of heavy hitters they could've sent in to take Basilisk down while he was still climbing the ladder- I even mentioned it to the higher-ups, asked for permission to go to Kagoshima and nip his little crime spree in the bud. But no, that would be a 'misallocation of valuable resources' to a 'low-priority municipality'." Kaina's grimace had deepened to a scowl, bitter sarcasm and contempt dripping from her voice. "The Lovely Lady Nagant has to stay in Tokyo, where the important people are."

She glanced down to find that her hands had clenched into fists atop the table, and forced herself to relax them, drumming her fingers against the metal instead.

"They were happy to let the local cops and heroes keep running circles trying to catch the guy as long as he stayed put down south at the ass-end of Kyushu, until the shit really started to hit the fan. See, at the height of all this Basilisk merch craze, the guy's gotten real high on his own reputation, and he finally takes it one step too far- he hits a federal bank, and things go way south. Turns out, two local heroes were staking the place out, but when they swoop with a bunch of cops in to make the arrest, they fuck up, because they're clueless small-town amateurs- they don't take down all of Basilisk's henchmen in time, and the whole thing turns into a massive shootout. You definitely saw the news coverage for this one, unless you were living under a rock. Five civilians, six cops, and both heroes wind up dead, dozens of injuries, and Basilisk escapes with the money and a civvie hostage and goes underground- now it's a national-level scandal, making headline news in Tokyo, and the heroes look like fucking idiots. So, guess what happens next?"

Kiruka pursed her lips and shook her head in a mix of understanding and disappointment, and Kaina leaned back with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, cold fury in her voice.

"Two hours after the story breaks, I'm on a plane to Kagoshima with Endeavor, Crust, and Hound Dog. Funny how that shit works, huh? Anyway, after we landed, it took us less than twelve hours to take the fucker down. Simple op- Hound Dog tracks him to his hideout, Endeavor flushes him out and drives him towards the rest of us, Crust boxes him in and separates him from his henchmen, and I line up a shot on him from a rooftop half a click away. He's got a gun to the hostage's head- some poor bank teller lady- and he's screaming at Endeavor and Crust and the cops about how he's gonna blow her brains out if they don't let him walk away with the cash."

"Such a stupid move," Slice replied, shaking her head in exasperation. "The hostage play almost never works, 'cause you godddamn heroes have all trained for it- no offense, but we had to learn that the hard way when Star came after us. I told Nine over and over we should just let the kid go and try and run for it, but no, he wanted to use him as a 'bargaining chip'. Bargain for what?!" Kiruka scoffed, gesticulating with outstretched hands. "No way they were letting us go, especially not after we roughed up those U.A. hero kids. Nine had plenty of good ideas, but trying to hide out on some rock a few clicks off the coast of fucking Guam wasn't one of them. The U.S. Navy was all over us inside twelve hours, and then Star's posse showed up. God, we botched that whole thing so bad."

Slice ran both hands down her face with a groan of disappointment, clearly still vividly frustrated by the experience, before finally glancing back up to Kaina.

"Sorry I ended up ranting again, didn't I? Anyway, what happened with lizard-man?"

"Well, the annoying part was that they wanted me to disable him nonlethally- there were already a bunch of news cameras on-scene by then, so it would've been a 'bad look' if the guy's head went splat on national TV. So I waited until the angle was just right, then put a round through his wrist, blew the whole hand holding the gun clean off. Then I put another one through his leg before he could try and get her with his claws- nice big hole in his kneecap- and he went down to the floor real quick. Endeavor rushed in and pinned him before he could recover, and the hostage got out with no injuries."

Kaina grew silent for a moment, her cold and bitter gaze still fixed across the table on Kiruka; she finally broke her eyes away a moment later with a shrug of subdued exasperation.

"I coulda done the whole thing on my own, just as quick and a lot quieter, but they didn't want quiet, they wanted a big, public spectacle, with action and drama for the newsreels. Once they had him cuffed and blindfolded, the local HPSC rep had all four of us pose for a photo op with the guy before the ambulance took him away, like we were goddamn trophy hunters after a safari. I just… fuck, man."

Kaina trailed off again, struggling to stifle the urge to pick up her tray and hurl it across the room; eight years later, the memory of that mission never failed to fill her with hatred and rage. At the same time, though, talking about it felt satisfying in its own way, like shrugging off a heavy, sweltering coat she'd been wearing for as long as she could remember. Through years of work as the Public Safety Commission's de facto executioner and years of imprisonment afterward, Kaina had always carried her burdens and her regrets alone, content to let them fester deep within her. Now, though, they finally had an outlet- even if that outlet happened to be a convicted terrorist and child abductor. Beggars can't be choosers, Kaina reminded herself, squeezing her eyes briefly shut. And all things considered, I did a lot worse things for a lot longer than she ever did.

"That's when you realized you were playing for the wrong side, wasn't it?" Kiruka's voice pulled Kaina back out of her thoughts- her tone and expression had grown solemn and serious. "You never did answer my question from earlier, Kaina."

"…No, I guess I didn't." Kaina's gaze dropped down to the table, the fiery anger that had swelled up in her chest slowly subsiding. "That op was just one more straw on the camel's back, but it was one of the last before it broke."

Another pause followed, much longer than the last, as Kaina silently weighed her options. Ah, fuck it. Probably gonna die in this place regardless, so no point in taking it to the grave. Finally arriving at a decision, she glanced to the side to make sure the other women at the table weren't listening, then back up to meet Kiruka's gaze, and lowered her voice to a murmur.

"A few weeks after we caught Basilisk, I put a bullet through the Safety Commission president's skull. Two days later, I was in Tartarus."

Kaina waved her hands outward in a subdued 'ta-da' gesture, watching with a slight smirk as Kiruka's eyes first narrowed in disbelief, then widened in shock and realization.

"Holy shit. You're not kidding, are you? You're the one who tagged that fucker?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding, Kiruka?" Raising her voice back to her usual deadpan, Kaina swiftly dispelled any remaining hint of amusement from her face. "I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat- trust me, the guy had it coming. Anyway, fast-forward a while, a few months after I first get my common area access, guess who finally shows up in the mess hall, strutting around like he owns the place?"

"Small world, huh?" Slice quipped, a grin returning to her lips.

"It definitely is in here," Kaina replied with a heavy sigh. "Apparently, the prison staff put some kinda special contact lenses in his eyes that blocked his quirk, and they could detect it if he tried to remove him, so he couldn't just start paralyzing people if they pissed him off. But even without the quirk, the guy was still a two-meter-tall lizard with claws and fangs, so it wasn't exactly the most thrilling experience when he started following me around telling me what a stupid bitch I was for three-plus hours a day- how he 'had it made' before I fucked everything up. Somehow, the motherfucker genuinely convinced himself that I personally orchestrated the entire thing, all the way back to the botched bank heist." Kaina paused for a beat, rummaging back through her memories. "And I guess he was still sore about the missing hand and gimpy leg, too. His knee never did heal right, and he made sure to remind me."

"Christ, that sounds exhausting." Kiruka leaned back and shook her head, a sympathetic frown on her face. "I would've lost it and cut the guy's throat after a day or two- how long did you last?"

"About a week. I finally snapped one day when he was standing next to my treadmill at the gym, talking shit for like thirty minutes straight while I was running. I got off, pretended like I was going for my towel, then kicked out his bad knee and broke his jaw- think he lost three or four teeth." Kaina smirked, briefly overtaken by wistful nostalgia at the memory. "Anyway, that whole scenario ended with me getting tased and pumped full of tranq darts- I'm just lucky they didn't flatline me, but no matter how much they wave those guns around, they'll usually they'll only go straight to lethal rounds if someone's about to die or the fight's escalating to riot-level. They revoked my common area access for two months and threw me in a Coffin- time gets real hazy in there, but I think it was for three or four days. Trust me, though, that's already way too long."

"Yeah, I believe it," Kiruka replied eyes furrowed in concern. "I've heard about 'em from a few people now, and it makes my skin crawl every time- I'm already pretty claustrophobic, so I'd probably go nuts after just a few hours in one of those things."

The Coffins, as they were so pleasantly nicknamed by Tartarus' inmates and staff, were the prison's punishment cells for unruly inmates. All cells in Tartarus were solitary confinement by default, but the Coffins took that principle even further; located on the prison's lowest sublevel, they were around the size of a shower stall and nearly pitch black, with only a tiny strip of light filtering in from beneath the door to prevent the occupants from going blind. All cold metal and granite, they had no bedding to speak of and only the barest minimum in waste disposal features- human rights activists had sued to block their usage on multiple occasions, but they'd only succeeded in ensuring that an inmate couldn't be confined in one for more than five consecutive days. While Kaina had built up walls upon walls of mental discipline over the course of her career as a hero and an executioner- out of necessity, to preserve her own sanity- her time in a Coffin had nearly broken her, and recalling that stretch of vast, endless darkness and cold never failed to send a shiver of discomfort up her spine.

"Pray you don't ever have to test that theory," Kaina murmured, her eyes held shut. "I ever end up in there again, I'll probably blow my brains out. At least, I would, if it wasn't for these little fuckers." She held up her right hand and gestured pointedly at the smooth, rounded metal band fixed around her wrist, her brows knit in resentment.

A recent invention, quirk-suppressing shackles had first been rolled out around a year ago; now, almost all of Tartarus' inmates were fitted with one. Apparently, they worked by continuously emitting a low-level bioelectric signal that blocked quirk factors from being expressed, but they were ineffective against heteromorphic quirks, of course, and Kaina had heard various rumors floating around the common area about secret methods to fool them or disable them. Thus far, she hadn't felt inclined to try; even with a majority of its inmates' quirks theoretically under control, Tartarus hadn't shown the slightest inclination towards loosening its existing security measures, and tampering with a shackle guaranteed a trip to the Coffins, at the very least.

Probably smart of them, to be honest, Kaina mused, gazing at her dull and distorted reflection in the smudged metal of the band. Can't rely on this new tech too much, can ya? Let your guard down, and you'd be fucked if it suddenly stopped working, or enough prisoners found a way to counter it.

"I can't stand this goddamn thing," Kiruka echoed, her hands curling into frustrated fists as she leered down at her own shackle. "I swear, Kaina, it's making my hair thin- it's totally lost all its volume ever since I got here!" She reached up and began to run her fingers through one section of her scarlet locks, her anger rapidly shifting to anxiety and concern. "Look, feel this- it's getting more frayed and dry every month! And that god-awful excuse for shampoo they give us isn't doing anything to help."

Kaina almost reached out a hand to take Kiruka up on her offer, but stopped herself at the last moment, pulling back her arm with a sympathetic grin on her face.

"Sorry, but I don't wanna get yelled at by the 30-Centimeter Police for the second time in a week. I know what you mean, though- mine hasn't really felt the same since they made us wear these either."

"Ah, good point." Kiruka leaned back and stretched her arms in the air, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Wait, so what ended up happening with Basilisk after you got outta the Coffins? I don't think I've ever seen him around here."

"Figure he learned his lesson, since he never fucked with me again." Kaina shrugged, her brows knit briefly in contemplation. "Maybe he wanted to, but the guards made sure to keep us separated, always watching to make sure we didn't make contact. He was basically a model prisoner after that, as far as I know- got transferred to another facility two or three years ago. Lucky bastard."

"Wow, look at you- a real reformer, huh?"

"Yep, that's me." Kaina kept her voice to a deadpan as she sipped again at her tea. "Helping society is my passion."

"What a noble soul. Anyway, wanna go ahead and hit the gym? I could use a good run."

"Yeah, let's just give it a few minutes." Kaina craned her head towards the entrance to the gym, her eyes narrowed. "I saw this chick I locked up go in there a little while ago, so best to wait 'til she leaves. A while back, she 'slipped' and shoulder checked me while I was on the elliptical- I almost broke my fuckin' face trying to catch myself."

"Jesus, what is it with you and getting harassed during cardio?" Kiruka chuckled, running a hand down her face in amusement. "It's like you're a magnet for this shit every time you walk into the gym."

"Oh, that's just the tip of the iceberg." Kaina shot back, grinning. "You'll love this one- about three years ago, I was on the stationary bike when a guy came up and dumped his carton of milk from the cafeteria all over my head. Even worse, the shit was expired- like, way expired."

"No!"

"Yes. I smelled it before I felt it hit me- had this god-awful stench, and it had started to get chunky, too."

"Jesus Christ." Slice looked on the verge of vomiting, genuine distress on her face as she reached up and clutched protectively at her own head.

"Yeah, that was definitely a low point. Took forever to get the stink and the little curdled bits outta my hair."

"…I think I'd just curl up and die." Kiruka declared in a quiet voice, shuddering. "…Or go nuts and start murdering people, I don't know which."

"I think I'd bet on the latter." Kaina replied, shooting her a teasing wink across the table with one hand propped on her chin.

"Yeah, I probably would, huh?"

Kiruka leaned back and broke out into a fit of laughter, and Kaina very nearly joined her, smiling in spite of herself. Today was probably the most she'd spoken to anyone in eight years, certainly on the topic of her own life, and despite all her instincts screaming at her to stop- to retreat back inside the walls she'd spent so long building around herself- it was a satisfying feeling, making someone laugh again.

Now, how long before she makes you regret this?

Kaina's smile died a swift death, and her eyes flit back down to her tea, narrowed in frustration.

You're slipping and you know it, the whisper at the back of her skull insisted, refusing to be silenced. You're losing your edge, letting down your guard.

What good is staying sharp gonna do me if I'm never gonna leave this place? Kaina retorted, fingers tightening around the plastic cup. How much farther can I fall? I'm already in the seventh fucking circle, even the Greeks knew it doesn't go any deeper than Tartarus.

"Speaking of hair, why don't we go ahead and hit the showers?" Kiruka craned her head over towards the entrance to the women's bathroom complex, which was mercifully guarded by a shift of exclusively female guards. "I know we always work out first, but since you've got another crazy ex keeping us outta the gym, might as well mix it up today. My hair is just feeling super gross and greasy right now, and the shampoo's probably gonna run out again before too long."

"…Yeah, sure." Blinking slowly back to reality, Kaina gave a stiff nod and drained the rest of her tea in one swift gulp, her mouth set in a grimace. "Let's do that."

"Everything okay?" One of Kiruka's scarlet brows hiked in concern as she rose to her feet. "You look like someone pissed in your tea all the sudden."

"I'm fine- just a headache." Kaina reached up and rubbed at her forehead with one hand to sell the lie, then stood and nodded towards the showers. "Let's go."

"…Alright, if you say so." Slice murmured, frowning as the pair started out across the hall. "But listen, if there's anything bugging you, I-"

"Kiruka- quiet."

Dropping her voice to just above a whisper and slowing her pace, Kaina felt her brows knit together in worry and frustration; moments after they stepped away from their table, she'd clocked a squad of four guards making a beeline towards them from one of the entrances to the common area, stun batons and submachine guns at the ready. A quick glance revealed that neither Shishikura Seiji nor his father were among them, but regardless, Kaina could hardly discount the possibility that this was related to them.

"I don't know what this is about, but don't do anything stupid, just follow my lead."

"Huh? What are you-"

"Prisoner 665-698, on program. Prepare to be searched. Prisoner 771-929, step away and go about your business. This doesn't concern you."

The lead guard stepped forward from the group and gestured towards Kaina with his stun baton, his violet eyes narrowed in contempt and suspicion beneath his cap. Easily recognizable by his distinctive features, including a hardened jawline, platinum blonde hair, and a matching goatee, he was known simply as 'the Dragon' among the inmates thanks to his harsh, violent temper and the persistent rumor that his quirk involved fire-breathing. Neither an Arena Spectator nor a member of the 30-Centimeter Police by reputation, he was instead grouped with the Samurai- a mocking title for the guards who prized a twisted ideal of 'discipline' above else and seized at any opportunity to inflict corporal punishment on the prisoners, usually by means of batons rather than the more impersonal tranq darts.

"What the hell? She didn't do anything wrong!" Kiruka began to raise her voice in protest, but faltered when Kaina glanced to the side and glared daggers in Slice's direction, her voice cold and harsh.

"Kiruka. Do what he said."

"Better listen to your little hero girlfriend, 771," A second guard scoffed, brandishing his own baton menacingly as electricity crackled between the prongs. "Otherwise, we might just have to shave that hair the rest of the way off."

Cowed by Kaina's warning and the guard's threats, Kiruka reluctantly began to back away, frowning. Just fucking go, Kaina wanted to scream, trying to convey as much through her eyes. You try and push this any further and they're gonna beat you 'til you can't stand, dipshit.

"I'll, uh… I'll see you later, then."

"Turn around and keep walking, 771," A female guard snapped, advancing toward Kaina to begin the search; once Kiruka had finally complied, a swift and thorough pat-down ensued, even rougher than usual. Given that the guards were already incensed, Kaina knew better than to offer any commentary, keeping her lips pursed throughout the process. Once she'd been declared clean by both the physical search and an electronic scan, the Dragon holstered his baton and locked eyes with Kaina, making no effort to conceal his disdain for her as he kept his fingers firmly curled around the hilt.

"Fall in and keep your mouth shut. Step one toe out of formation, give me one word of backtalk, and I will happily drag your sorry ass down to the Coffins myself."

With a silent nod, Kaina stepped into the midst of the four guards and allowed the rear two to each take hold of one of her arms, shuffling along silently as they marched her across the mess hall, the sounds of jeers the other prisoners echoing all around her.

"Looks like Lady Nagant's in troubleee!"

"Make sure you beat her ass, boys!"

"Don't come back, hero bitch!"

The taunts grew increasingly crude and profane as they continued, but Kaina swiftly tuned them out as usual, letting all the shouts merge together into a single unintelligible roar as she focused instead on deducing where she was being taken. It certainly wasn't her cell- they were moving away from Block C- and it wasn't the Coffins either, judging by the Dragon's comment about taking her there as a punishment. Worst case scenario, I managed to piss off someone important lately, and they wanna rough me up in an interrogation room. Best case scenario… guess there isn't really a best case here. Medium case, creepy stalker boy wants to profess his undying love and ask for my hand in marriage. Kaina allowed herself a smirk of amusement as their group passed the kitchen and stepped through a set of doors leading deeper into the prison, resigning herself to the increasing likelihood of a beating. Surprisingly, though, they passed by the entrance to the interrogation wing a few moments later, winding their way through Tartarus' labyrinthine hallways and staircases towards the upper floors, an area she hadn't seen in years. All the same, though, Kaina purged herself of any fleeting traces of optimism, steeling her heart for inevitable disappointment.

I wouldn't put it past them to act like I'm being released, then turn around and tell me my sentence is being extended- it would be pretty par for the course, all things considered.

Rather than heading towards out-processing, though, they took an abrupt left turn towards one of the last wings Kaina had expected to see again in her lifetime. Unable to hide the abject confusion and surprise on her face as they passed beneath the sign labeled 'Visitation', Kaina inadvertently drew the attention of the Dragon, who glanced back and let out a bitter scoff.

"Trust me, Nagant, I don't think a hero-killer like you deserves any visitors either. You better be on your best goddamn behavior in there, or mark my fucking words, you will experience severe consequences."

With that, they came to a halt at the door to Visitation Room B, and the Dragon nodded for Kaina to step inside. A single steel chair awaited her, the only notable feature in the bare, metal-walled chamber; across from it, a thick wall of safety glass divided the room in two, separating her from the visitors' side of the room, which remained empty for the moment.

Ah, so that's the play, huh? Kaina allowed herself a bitter smirk as the guards marched her inside and pressed her down into the chair, securing heavy metal restraints over her arms and legs. They pretend I have someone here to see me, leave me to wait for an hour or two, then tell me it was a mix-up, and there's no one after all. Not bad, but you could do better.

"No," a quiet yet authoritative male voice declared over the room's speaker system; the guards froze mid-motion, glancing up towards the camera-turret in the corner of the room. "Leave her unrestrained."

"…Sir?" The Dragon straightened up and shook his head in protest, gesturing towards Kaina with his baton. "This is standard protocol for inmates with ranged quirks. Without the restraints, if her suppressor were to fail, she could-"

"If it failed, it would be a trivial matter for me to restrain her before she could harm me," The voice interjected; before the Dragon could retort, footfalls began to sound from the far end of the room, and Kaina's eyes widened in shock as Best Jeanist strode through the doorway.

"Hello, Lady Nagant." Jeanist gave her a soft, sad smile, then glanced back to the Dragon. "Thank you, captain. Release her restraints, and then you may leave us."

"Y-Yes, sir."

After a brief moment of hesitation, the Dragon and his squad swiftly obeyed Jeanist's orders, releasing the metal shackles and filing out of the room in short order. The door slammed shut behind them with a loud hiss and clang, and Kaina was left alone, staring slack-jawed at her visitor. Rising steadily to her feet now that her limbs were unrestrained, Kaina took a hesitant step towards the safety glass, still half-convinced that she was hallucinating.

"H-Hakamada? Why… why are you…"

"It's been too long, Tsutsumi." Jeanist came to a halt a few paces from his side of the glass, his hands clasped behind his back and a solemn expression visible behind his high denim collar. There were no openings in the dividing wall; his voice was being transmitted directly into her side of the room by a two-way speaker system. "I trust you've been keeping well?"

"…Keeping well?" Kaina shook her head in disbelief, her hands curling into white-knuckled fists as her shock swiftly turned to exasperation and scorn. "Really, Hakamada? You show up here after eight fucking years- you, the glorious new number one hero- and that's the best icebreaker you could come up with? Some bullshit waste of breath you already know the answer to? Christ, if that was a joke, your sense of humor's really gone down the drain since we last talked."

"…My apologies, Tsutsumi." Jeanist bowed his head, laying a hand across his chest. "You're right- that was uncouth of me. I didn't intend to-"

"No, no, no take-backs." Kaina crossed her arms, a faux grin spreading across her face and caustic sarcasm dripping from her voice. "You asked, so I might as well indulge you, number one. If you wanna know, I've been splendid, just absolutely thriving in here. It's such a wonderful, supportive environment, after all, and the staff and inmates just adore me, as I'm sure you'd expect. There are just so many wonderfully passionate hero fans in this place, always letting you know they care." She snapped her fingers in sudden revelation, pointing towards Jeanist through the glass. "You know what? You should go give the mess hall a visit while you're here- I'm sure a bigshot like you would get a lovely reception."

"No sudden motions towards the glass!" Dragon's voice snapped over the intercom; a soft electronic whir sounded overhead as the camera in the back corner of the room adjusted the aim of its machine gun barrel, tracking the movements of her head. "Keep your hands at your sides!"

Jeanist remained silent as Kaina reluctantly complied with the instructions, his brows furrowed in contemplation.

"…You're aware that I'm the new number one. I take it you're already familiar with the events that occurred last month, then?"

"The Black Day?" Kaina hiked one brow in amusement. "Yeah, I know about it, and the Okinawa raid too- everyone with common area access does. That a surprise?"

"Somewhat, yes. It's been some time since that day, but I was under the impression that Tartarus took measures to insulate inmates from the outside world."

"Oh, they try their best," Kaina replied, glancing pointedly up towards the camera, "but word travels fast in here when something big goes down outside- there's a delay, sure, but they can't plug the leak forever." She shifted her gaze back to Jeanist and shrugged her shoulders, her lips curled up in a hint of a nostalgic grin. "Real shame about All Might, huh? And here I thought the big guy was gonna live forever."

"It is a shame, yes." Jeanist began to pace back and forth before the glass, his brows furrowed in contemplation. "A great many lives were lost to senseless violence, dozens of innocents among them. And for the orchestrators of the attack to emerge from within the ranks of U.A.'s own students?" He shook his head in frustration, running a hand along his perfectly kempt golden hair. "The public's trust in the entire hero system has been irreparably damaged. It will take years to recover from the repercussions of this attack, and shamefully, we are still no closer to apprehending the Syndicate's leadership."

"Well, that is an absolute tragedy," Kaina countered, leaning back into her sarcasm, "but it's not really any my business anymore, is it, Hakamada? You and all your buddies made sure of that."

"That's not fair, Tsutsumi. You know I had nothing to do with-"

"Oh, so now we're talking about what's fair, huh? Christ, that's even worse than your last joke." Kaina leaned back against one of the chair's metal armrests with a huff of exasperation. "Let's cut to the chase, okay? I know why you're here."

"Oh?" Jeanist cocked one golden brow and halted his back-and-forth pacing, his tone and expression swiftly reverting to cold, curt professionalism. "Do tell, then."

"Took me a second to piece it together, but then you went and gave it away- there's only one logical explanation why someone like you would come check up on their favorite skeleton in the closet." Kaina gave another exaggerated shrug, her eyes narrowed in amusement. "You want me to tell you how to take them out, don't you? The Syndicate."

Best Jeanist's expression remained stoic and unflinching, betraying only the faintest hint of surprise in a slight, involuntary dilation of his pupils; even a tell so minute was enough for Kaina to confirm that she'd struck home, though.

Let's see how far I can push him.

"Must be frustrating, huh? You're getting outplayed at every turn, humiliated by a bunch of moody teenagers and their posse of two-bit yakuza chumps and washed-up C-list villains. I mean, isn't one of them a fucking streamer? Jesus, talk about embarrassing."

Kaina let out a loud, exaggerated sigh to cut Jeanist short when he opened his mouth to reply, running one hand through her hair as her grin continued to widen. It was a powerfully cathartic experience, finally being able to vent her frustrations to an active hero this high up the ladder, and she had no intent of stopping now.

"And since it's finally dawning on the clueless old fossils at the Commission after a month of getting their asses handed to them that none of their 'conventional tactics' are working, they sent you, their new Golden Boy, to meet me, the royal executioner, and ask me how I'd eliminate them. Tactics, scenarios, how I'd lure them into the perfect killzone, the whole spiel. Does that about sum it up, Hakamada?"

Kaina let out another chuckle when his answer came in the form of a silent stare, and opted to step things up a notch while she had the chance- an opportunity like this didn't come often, after all.

"I'll bet they're particularly interested in what I have to say about the Support Course girl- what's her name, Longshot? The sniper- she's got perfect zoom vision up to five clicks, right? Man, what a quirk!" Kaina clapped her hands together in delight and shook her head in amusement. "My arm already makes a scope for me, but to just be able to eyeball it from that far out, no need for sights? Word is, she took down a whole squad of police choppers with some big-ass cannon, but personally, I think she's using the wrong approach. If I were her, it would be open season on all of Tokyo- the PM, ministers, any heroes you see, just pop their heads the moment they step outside. What, are they gonna establish a security perimeter five kilometers wide for every major event from now on? With that portal guy helping her, she could probably take out most of the government and top ten in one afternoon if she really applied herself."

"You're half-right, Tsutsumi," Jeanist finally conceded with a shrug, his brows furrowed. "We are interested in your tactical appraisal of the situation. And while the higher-ups at the HPSC would likely have walked out without a second thought if you gave them that speech, I think it only reinforces that your mind is still as sharp as ever- even after almost a decade in this place, your instincts and intuition remain intact."

He advanced towards the dividing wall once more, only centimeters from the glass now- his piercing blue eyes were drilling holes into her skull, daring her to look away, but Kaina refused to flinch.

"It's just as you said- conventional tactics and the standard hero playbook have all failed us, time and time again by now. You, never followed that playbook, though, did you, Tsutsumi?"

Kaina narrowed her eyes in contempt, adamantly refusing to believe that Jeanist was implying what he seemed to be implying. No. There's no fucking way.

"On the battlefield and in the planning room, you would be an unknown factor- something the Syndicate could never account for. In your tenure working beneath the previous HPSC president, I understand that you were asked to carry out… unpleasant missions. That you were, as you said, an executioner. But right now, faced with a crisis of this magnitude, we find ourselves in need of your skills once more."

Winding himself up into one of his famously eloquent speeches now, Jeanist extended a hand towards the glass; ordinarily, Kaina woud've interrupted him by now, but for the moment, she was simply too stunned to muster the words.

"You were wronged by the HPSC before, Kaina, and I know you have little reason to trust us after what was done to you. We can't undo what happened, but we are prepared to take concrete steps to make things right. In exchange for your participation in anti-Syndicate operations as part of Strike Team Fenrir, the government of Japan is prepared to offer you a full pardon and the complete expungement of your criminal record. Your hero license would be reinstated, of course, and you would be provided with new accommodations, free of charge."

"…She's here, isn't she?" Kaina leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, glancing up at the camera fixed just ahead of the wall. "Watching."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The new prez- Kengen. Well, guess she's not so new anymore." Kaina reached her arms back behind her neck and flexed her back, working out the cracks; before the Dragon could protest, Jeanist glanced up to the nearest camera and held up one hand, shaking his head. "She was just a deputy back in my day," Kaina continued with a sigh, "but trust me, she made an impression. And if she was already a stone-cold bitch back then, then I'll bet she's a regular ice queen after eight years on the job."

Kaina turned and refocused her gaze on Jeanist, meeting his piercing stare head-on.

"I know she's here, Hakamada. Unless you're going rogue- and you're not- then she's the only one with the power to authorize a little field trip like this. And there's no way Kengen would trust anyone with a mission this sensitive on their own- not even you, Golden Boy. She's a control freak, always has been, so if she went far enough to brief you on all the dirty laundry, then she's seeing this all the way through." Kaina turned back to the camera, a mocking grin spreading across her face. "What's wrong, prez- feeling shy? Come on out, I won't bite."

Another pause followed, shorter yet tenser than the last, before Jeanist cleared his throat and shook his head, his golden brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"Tsutusmi, please- don't try to derail the conversation. Returning to our previous topic, I-"

"Not shy, Ttutsumi." A new voice cut Jeanist short, crackling through the comms system overhead- sharp, wry, and unmistakably familiar, even after eight years. "Just a bit under the weather. But under the circumstances, I suppose that I can make an exception."

A series of sharp clacks reverberated though the room, echoing off the metal flooring over the sound of steady, methodical footsteps. Kaina's brows furrowed instinctively in confusion at the noise, then hiked in realization as President Kengen Hokori rounded the corner and entered the visitors' half of the room, a steel-tipped wooden cane in one hand and a black eyepatch over her left socket. She was still dressed in the usual stark black pantsuit that Kaina had come to associate her with, but as it was with most prime ministers and presidents, the stresses of her tenure at the top had aged her at least twofold; numerous streaks of grey ran through her pale blonde hair, and growing wrinkles had spread across her face, along with two prominent purple bags beneath her eyes. The most prominent new feature, though, was the prominent reddish scar that ran vertically across the left side of her face, from her jawline through the eyepatch to her forehead; judging by the color, it had been inflicted quite recently, freshly unbandaged.

Is this what's got you so spooked, Kengen? The Syndicate took a shot at you, huh? Looks like they just barely missed.

"Madam Kengen, please- allow me to assist."

Ever the gentleman, Jeanist rushed forward to take Kengen by the arm, but she brushed him away with a curt shake of her head and wave of her free hand.

"Thank you, Hakamada, but that won't be necessary. I can walk just fine, despite the Syndicate's best efforts." She clacked the tip of her cane down against the floor for emphasis, then took another handful of slow and deliberate steps forward before finally drawing to a halt at Jeanist's side opposite the dividing wall and glancing up at the cameras overhead. "Captain- a chair, if you would? After that, I would like no further interruptions until I call for you."

"Yes, ma'am," came the Dragon's reply, uncharacteristically meek and cowed. "Of course, ma'am."

"Can't kill the unkillable, huh, prez?" Kaina allowed herself another smirk, arms still crossed. "Well, unless you're me. Honestly, I'm pretty disappointed in them, assuming they actually want to take you out. They've got all those quirks- teleportation, sniping, the whole rogue's gallery, and that's the best they could do to you?" She gestured up to the left side of her face, running a finger along the route of Kengen's scar. "Just a few stitches and an eyepatch? What the hell did they use, a fucking sword? I mean, they do know about guns, right?"

"Oh, they certainly know about guns," Kengen replied, her lips pursed in the slightest of grins as she gripped her hands tight about the silver lion-head pommel of her cane. Behind her, two prison security officers rushed in with a metal chair, and she nodded in silent gratitude before easing into it with a quiet sigh of relief. "They used quite a few of them in their assault on the Public Safety Commission's headquarters earlier this week- the same attack that left me this wound. Heavy munitions as well: rockets, laser cutters, anti-aircraft rounds. But for some reason, when it came to me, they seemed to be almost restricting themselves. I'm not sure if it was because of some twisted 'code of honor' or a desire to capture my death on film for propaganda purposes, but regardless, they weren't content to simply wipe me out in an artillery barrage; they wanted to kill me one-on-one. And in the end, the assassin they sent after me was a young man with a blade quirk, despite the fact that a half-dozen of their members could've dispatched me much more easily at any point throughout the battle."

Kengen shook her head in exasperation and amusement, letting out a brief sigh before she continued.

"Likewise, with their arsenal of quirks, it's just as you said, Tsutsumi- they could've easily massacred the entire government by now if they wanted to. With Overhaul, Pandora, and Kurogiri at their disposal, every hero agency and police station in Tokyo- in all of Japan could be reduced to ash by now, but they haven't been. And to me, that's the most fascinating contradiction of the Syndicate- as ruthlessly efficient and cunning as they are in some aspects, they still deliberately hold themselves back in others, and I honestly couldn't tell you why. Are they simply waiting for the right moment, whatever that may be? Courting public opinion, perhaps? Or have they simply not deemed us a sufficient threat to go full scorched-earth?"

"Terrorists with principle, huh?" Kaina leaned forward, eyes narrowed in amusement; Kengen's information on the Syndicate's activities did genuinely attract her interest, but for now, it was for the best if she kept up a front of sarcasm rather than appearing too eager. "What a quaint concept. Someone should tell them how that went for the Meta Liberation Army."

"Their leadership appear to be quite well-educated- despite their status as high-school dropouts, that is." Stroking at her chin in contemplation, Kengen reached out towards Best Jeanist, who promptly handed her a glass datapad; the president began to scroll along the screen as she continued, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Their video statements often include long-winded ideological manifestos explaining their disdain for the current state of society, usually delivered by Seraph himself. And if he's the philosopher, then she is the economist."

With a swipe of her finger, Kengen cast a video of an attractive young woman with shoulder-length black hair and greyish-silver body armor onto the glass dividing wall, standing alongside several other young men and women around the same age as she spoke to the camera about the dangers of a looming financial collapse. Gazing in turn at the other Syndicate members surrounding her, Kaina tried her best to match names and reputations to faces as the video progressed- she'd never seen any images of the group before, after all, so her mental images of them were hazy at best. Let's see… goggles, rifle, crosshair pupils- obviously Longshot, the sniper. Blonde, pretty, big smile, crazy eyes- that's Carmilla, for sure. Which means the one next to her has gotta be the big boss, huh?

Kaina narrowed her eyes, a curious expression on her face as she gazed at the image of the lean, messy-haired teenager who had spent the last two months bringing the hero system to its knees. I thought he'd be taller, but… somehow, I can believe it. I recognize that look in his eyes- I've killed dozens of people who gave me that same stare right before they died. That's someone who's got nothing left to lose, and made their peace with it.

"This is Pandora," Kengen declared, drawing Kaina's attention back to the young woman at the center of the frame. "Formerly known as Yaoyorozu Momo."

Try as she might, Kaina couldn't hide the brief flinch of shock and recognition before her face reverted to a neutral expression, and Kengen let out a quiet chuckle.

"Yes, I thought that name would be familiar- I'm glad to see your memory hasn't been dulled by these past eight years. After your previous… favors on behalf of the Yaoyorozu family, they've found themselves caught in quite the reputational sinkhole as of late, what with their estranged daughter helping lead one of the most infamous terrorist groups in our nation's history. A true shame, after everything you did to help keep their businesses afloat."

"What a tragedy," Kaina murmured in reply, bitter contempt in her voice; her eyes had dropped down to the floor, fingers tightening their grip around the metal of the chair.

"Well, I won't beat around the bush any longer. I don't have much time to waste, after all." Kengen leaned forward, her hands gripped tight around the head of her cane as she locked her gaze on Kaina's. "The offer I'm proposing is exactly as Jeanist indicated. You will be given supervised release from Tartarus- living in your own quarters, albeit under our supervision- and you will work directly for us, applying your previous skillset to eliminate high-value Syndicate personnel with your usual efficiency. These would be your first targets- the Syndicate's two brains." She gestured to the screen, which now displayed the portraits of Pandora and Seraph side-by-side. "If you are successful, then a full pardon would be in order, as promised. Are these terms acceptable, Tsutsumi?"

In the silence that followed, Kaina could hardly hear anything above the pounding of her own heartbeat, throbbing like a drum in her ears- her cheeks had flushed red with a mix of emotions, and sweat was beading on her brow.

"…You really are a piece of work, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Kengen leaned even further forward, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "You'll need to speak up, Tsutsumi- I didn't catch that."

"You knew." Kaina slowly turned her gaze upward to meet Kengen's, keeping her voice steady and even despite the overwhelming urge to explode in anger. "All that time, all those years, you knew what I was doing. All the bodies he had me bury, all the problematic heroes I had to erase because they got caught skimming off the top, stealing from the wrong people- the reputational hazards. You were there, working your way up the ranks, watching it happen. And when I killed him, you knew exactly why I did it."

Kaina rose to her feet, confident now that the guards knew better than to interrupt, and continued to return the president's stare with wide, unflinching eyes as she stood directly before the glass.

"You knew you'd been working for a corrupt, soulless piece of shit, but you were still happy to forget all about that mess, weren't you? To toss me in here and throw away the key. As stone-cold as you are on the outside, deep down, I bet it made you feel real shitty, whenever you thought about what he used me to do. That tiny little speck of a conscience was really nagging at you, wasn't it? Like a gnat that wouldn't stop buzzing in your ear."

Pausing briefly to search Kengen's face for a reaction, Kaina allowed herself a slight smirk of satisfaction when the president's stoic poker face wavered for a brief moment under the verbal barrage. It was a flinch so small and fleeting that an untrained eye would likely never have spotted it- the slight twitch of a brow, a faint tightening of the muscles around the mouth- but to Kaina, it was as clear as day, a bright neon sign announcing that her words had struck a nerve.

"Yeah, that's right. So you tried your best to forget about me, didn't you? To bury my files, bury everything I did. But now, after all this time, I'm finally useful again, because someone's tearing down your little sandcastle, and you don't know how to stop them. They've got your number, and your perfect little heroes aren't working- All Might, Hawks, both of the last two number ones gone in a single day. It took you a while- you were putting it off as long as possible- but you finally realized that you need someone like me. You've got a mess on your hands, and you need a cleaner."

Another pause, more silence, and another tiny flinch from Kengen- the cracks were continuing to spread, and Kaina couldn't help but grin in cathartic delight.

"Of course, it goes without saying that you don't want to admit what a hypocrite you are- and you definitely don't want to lose any more face than you already have by announcing this publicly- so you come in here all cloak-and-dagger, off the record, and try and bait the Safety Commission's dirtiest little secret into coming back to work without anyone knowing. Tell me, prez, does that about sum it up?"

"…What do you want, Tsutsumi?"

After another brief lapse of silence, Kengen finally spoke up in reply, her voice cracking like a whip; there was a fiery spark in her eyes now that hadn't been present before, and Kaina couldn't help but raise her brows, impressed. There she is- that's the old piss-and-vinegar Kengen I remember, not that meek little diplomat act she came in here with.

"What are your conditions?" The president continued, casting one hand outward in exasperation. "Name them, and I'll grant them, if it's within my power. But let me make one thing absolutely clear before we continue." Kengen leaned forward and held up a single finger, her brows knit in scarcely concealed contempt. "I refuse to entertain any suggestion that your actions eight years ago were justified. If you're asking me to apologize to you, to tell you that your incarceration was a mistake, then it's out of the question. You killed a man in cold blood- yes, he committed crimes, but he deserved a conviction in a court of law, not an extrajudicial execution." She slammed the tip of her cane down against the floor to punctuate her statement, her knuckles white about its head- the resulting clang echoed ominously through the room. "So as far as I'm concerned, Lady Nagant, the terms of the pardon I'm offering you are far more generous than you deserve."

"Tsutsumi, please," Jeanist cut in, stepping in front of Kengen before she could continue with a mix of regret and concern visible in his eyes. "There will likely never be another opportunity like this one- it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance. As someone who still counts you as a friend, I beg you- don't let it pass by. Whatever what you did, whatever the reasons, there is still a place for Lady Nagant in this world, if you can find it within yourself to seize this chance."

"…What do I want?" Roundly ignoring Best Jeanist's attempt to salvage the situation, Kaina gave a soft, hollow chuckle, running both hands up her face and through her hair with her eyes squeezed briefly shut. "That's a great question, prez. I haven't really had much time to think about what I want for a long time, because even before I ended up here, back when I was a 'hero',it was never about what I wanted. I wanted to go in and lock up Basilisk before he got to be too big of a problem, but that's not what he wanted. I wanted to focus on helping the city I grew up in, to catch the lowlife scum who were making everyday people suffer, but that's not what he wanted."

Kaina's voice was steadily rising in volume and anger as she spoke, her hands clenched into shaking fists at her sides, but she could hardly be bothered to hold her tongue any longer. Jeanist was right about one thing- I'll never get a chance like this again, so I might as well say my piece.

"I wanted to go out in public without spending the whole time worrying that I missed a spot when I was washing off the blood after my last mission. I wanted to be able to close my eyes at night without seeing the faces of all the people I murdered- without hearing them begging for their lives over and over and fucking over again in my head, sobbing, sniveling, crying for their mommies, telling me about their wives and their sons and their baby daughters. Without waking up swimming in my own fucking sweat, screaming. So you come in here after all this time, Kengen, and you have the nerve to ask me what the fuck I want?!"

Kaina's face was twisted in a mask of pure anguish and rage now, but she forced herself to stop short of spitting a string of profanities and insults in the president's direction. I bet she'd just love if I threw a tantrum- I can't give her that satisfaction. Just keep it together for a few more minutes. Closing her eyes for another brief moment, she let out a deep breath and straightened her posture, then glanced down to meet Kengen's icy stare head-on.

"I want you to hold a press conference where you tell the truth about what he did.I want you to spill every bit of dirt you have on him, bring every last skeleton out of the closet, and take responsibility for letting it all happen. Prove to me that you're better than him. I want to see it live, I want to watch you answer to the press, and I want you to get on your goddamn knees and beg the country to forgive you." Kaina paused to let out a heavy sigh- now that she'd said the words, a weight had lifted from her chest, and the hardest part was nearly done. "Once that's done, I want a bowl of tsukemen, extra spicy, extra garlic- I'll tell you which restaurant. And then, after all that, I might just be willing to talk about this little job of yours."

"…Tsutsumi, please." After a brief silence of her own, the president shook her head, eyes narrowed. "Let's keep this conversation anchored in reality, shall we? You know just as well as I do that aside from the tsukemen, which I'd be happy to arrange, none of those things are going to happen. With the Syndicate at the gates and public trust in the hero system at historic lows, what you're describing would be tantamount to committing seppuku in front of the entire nation- we would be handing our enemy a massive psychological victory on a silver platter. I would like for this meeting to end in an amicable agreement, but surely you're bright enough to understand that there are limits to what I can give you."

In retrospect, Kaina wasn't certain exactly what the catalyst was- perhaps it was Kengen's subtly patronizing tone of voice, as if she were a teacher reprimanding unruly child, or perhaps it was the brief, fleeting twitch of an amused smirk on her lips as she emphasized the word 'reality'. Perhaps it was the sheer, blithe ease and casual contempt with which she dismissed Kaina's requests. More likely, it was a combination of all of these factors, but regardless of the precise formula, the result was the same; as Kengen spoke, something deep inside Kaina's mind suddenly snapped, and a short, halting gasp of air escaped her mouth, blood flushing red across her cheeks as two decades of slowly simmering fury and despair began to reach a rolling boil within her chest. Out of instinct, she bit down on her lower lip to try and contain the maelstrom before it erupted, but even that proved futile; a trickle of warm blood filled her mouth with the sharp, metallic taste of copper.

"So, let's try again, Tsutsumi, and aim to be a bit more pragmatic this time. What do you-"

"I WANT MY LIFE BACK!"

In a single swift motion, Kaina surged forward and slammed her fist against the glass, tears of rage welling in her eyes. Her voice was a roar of pure anguish, so harsh and keen that both Kengen and Jeanist visibly recoiled in shock, eyes wide.

"You people took it from me when I was FOURTEEN YEARS OLD! Sold a stupid, starstruck middle school girl on some fairytale pipe dream about your 'Advanced Hero Training Program'! You told her she was SPECIAL, told her she'd be HELPING PEOPLE!" You LIED, and twenty years later, you still won't fucking APOLOGIZE!"

"We did not lie to you!" Kengen barked, surging to her feet and pointing her cane towards the glass as she grabbed hold of her chair for support; Kaina's outburst had clearly struck a nerve, just as she'd hoped it would. "Like it or not, your actions saved countless lives! Don't condemn me for the fact that you're too shortsighted to see that!"

A tense silence followed as both Kengen and Kaina panted and seethed on their respective sides of the wall, regaining their breath and composure; Jeanist, for his part, simply cradled his head in one hand, pinching at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just like I thought, huh?" Kaina finally broke the silence, her mouth twisted into a spiteful, twitching grin; her voice was quieter and steadier now, but still full of just as much rage and contempt as before. "You pretend to be better, pretend all the shitty things you're doing are for the greater good. Hell, maybe you even believe yourself. But in the end, you're the same as him." She let out a hollow chuckle and shook her head in amusement, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. "The same as me, too. Beyond saving."

"Captain, you're free to retrieve your prisoner." Planting her cane back against the floor to keep her balance, Kengen retrieved a handheld radio from inside her blazer and lifted it to her mouth, opening a comm channel to the guards; her eyes remained locked on Kaina's all the while, refusing to flinch or glance away. "This visitation is over."

"Ma'am, please." As the door behind Kaina hissed open and the sound of heavy footfalls and crackling stun batons announced the approach of the Dragon and his men, Best Jeanist stepped forward and reached a tentative hand in Kengen's direction. "If I could have another session with her, one-on-one, I'm confident that I could still make progress in these negotiations. This outburst was regrettable, yes, but it's nothing that we can't-"

"We are leaving, Jeanist." Finally breaking her gaze away from Kaina's, Kengen turned towards the exit, her curt and clipped tone brimming with scarcely restrained fury. "This conversation is over."

"That's right, prez," Kaina called out, still watching Kengen with a widening grin even as the guards grabbed her by the arms and began to pull her back towards the exit. "Run back home and try to forget about me all over again!"

"Quiet!" The Dragon snapped, jabbing the tip of his baton into her side; even as the electricity coursed through her body, though, sapping the strength from her knees and sending her slumping towards the floor with a grimace of pain, Kaina still managed to let out a peal of triumphant laughter.

"I hope you all BURN, Kengen! Do you hear me?! I can't wait to watch Seraph tear apart your perfect little system, brick by brick!"

"That's enough!"

The Dragon delivered a second, higher-level shock that rendered Kaina almost completely limp as the guards continued to drag her towards the exit, struggling to remain conscious as darkness pressed in at the corners of her vision. At the center of the blurring mass of shapes, though, she could still make out Kengen and Hakamada gazing back at her, one with contempt and the other with regret. It was growing increasingly difficult to even think straight over the stinging pain and numbness, much less formulate complete sentences; mustering up what was left of her mental faculties, Kaina gritted her teeth and sucked in a shaky breath, enough for one final, parting barb.

"I'll see you in Hell," Kaina growled, a satisfied smirk on her face as she watched Kengen's brows furrow in response. "Don't worry- we can burn together."

Then the metal shaft of the Dragon's baton slammed into her skull with a sharp, reverberating crack, and the world went dark.

---

16 April, 5:12PM

When Kaina awoke with a ragged, halting gasp and a strangled yelp, sweat beading on her brow, the nightmares were already fading into hazy fragments, but the jagged shards of memory that remained were as vivid and horrifying as ever: fleeting images of the faces and voices of those she'd executed, twisted in horror and streaked with tears, shrieking in fear and panic and begging for her to spare them in the moments before she splattered their brains across the floor. It was a familiar dream- one she'd dealt with for years now, albeit always with slight variations- but this one had been the most vivid and intense in some time, judging by the panting heaves of her chest and the rapid pounding of her heart.

Christ, my fucking head, was the first coherent thought Kaina managed to string together as her eyes slowly adjusted to the harsh overhead lighting and sea of stark whites and greys all around her- as the world came into focus, it rapidly became clear that she was in the prison infirmary, laid out on a bed with her right arm hooked up to an IV and heavy gauze bandages wrapped around her aching head. White curtains held up by metal frames on her right and left separated her from any other nearby patients, but a camera-turret perched on the ceiling in the center of the room served as a friendly reminder that she was still being monitored at all times; sure enough, just moments after she propped herself upright against her headboard, a chorus of footsteps announced the arrival of a blue-skinned nurse with gills and fish-like facial features and two accompanying guards, shotguns slung casually around their shoulders.

"Prisoner 665-698 has regained consciousness," the nurse declared in a cold, businesslike tone, jotting notes down on a clipboard as she spoke. "Noting the date and time. Could you inspect her restraints, please?"

Nodding wordlessly, the two guards moved forward, one on either side of her bed, and tugged mechanically at the metal shackles cuffing Kaina's ankle and left wrist to the bedframe. Only her right arm, the one hooked up to the IV, was unrestrained; distracted by the pain in her head and the rush of memories from the interrogation, Kaina hadn't even noticed until now. Thankfully, she could still slide her shackled limbs back and forth along the frame to a limited extent, allowing her some small degree of movement as she adjusted her posture once more.

"So, uh…" Kaina spoke up in a cautious, even tone, hesitantly lifting her free hand towards the source of the throbbing pain on the right side of her head. "What am I in for, doc?"

"I rendered treatment for a hairline fracture to the skull and resulting blood loss," the nurse declared matter-of-factly, her gaze still fixed on her clipboard as the guards withdrew back behind her, apparently satisfied in their inspection of Kaina's restraints. "A scan detected no brain swelling or other symptoms of cerebral trauma."

"Wow, great news." Kaina raised her brows in mock delight, forcing a half-smile onto her lips. "Only a hairline fracture, huh? Must be my lucky day."

"How would you describe your current level of pain?" The nurse asked, roundly ignoring Kaina's sarcasm.

"On a scale of one to ten, this is a solid six," Kaina muttered, grazing her fingers gently along the bandages at the site of the injury; on second thought, in a scenario like this, it was better to tell the truth than fall back on sarcasm. "Maybe pushing a seven. Feels like someone's beating my head like a goddamn drum."

"Noted," the nurse replied, still scratching at her clipboard. "You will be kept here for observation for tonight, then your condition will be reassessed in the morning. Press the button on your bedframe if you need to use the bathroom, or for any other urgent requests. If you attempt to remove your bandages or IV, or otherwise interfere with your treatment, your restraints will be tightened accordingly."

"Any chance I could get some more painkillers?" Kaina winced as her fingers brushed too close to the spot of the fracture, sending a lance of fiery pain shooting through her skull. "I don't know what you have me on, but this really hurts like a motherfucker, doc."

Not to mention, it would be nice to just kick back and ride the high for a while, Kaina mused, brows furrowed in discomfort. They're definitely gonna throw me straight in the Coffins as soon as they're done with me here, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

"You've already been supplied with your allotted daily dosage," The nurse declared, eyes narrowed. "You'll receive more in the morning."

Ah, that's right, Kaina recalled, pursing her lips in quiet amusement. They're worried about inmates faking pain to get high, so everyone has to suffer with the minimum dose, even if they've literally got a broken skull. Good old Tartarus, always looking out for us.

"Oh, one more thing." Just as she turned and began to walk away, the nurse glanced back in Kaina's direction and gestured towards the small bedside table at her right. "You have a gift- it's been cleared with security."

"Huh?" Confused, Kaina glanced to the side; sure enough, there was a small fruit arrangement sitting atop the table. It was nothing elaborate- just a handful of apples, pears, and clementines in a wicker basket, tied off with a bow and a small scrap of paper- but it was the only gift from the outside that she'd received in the past eight years, and therefore somewhat jarring, to say the least. "Oh, uh… thanks."

Kaina glanced back up towards the nurse, but she and the guards were already gone, leaving her alone in the deafening silence of the infirmary with nothing but the distant sounds of beeping machines and the ever-present gaze of the camera-turret for company. If there were any other patients at the moment, they were either unconscious or keeping silent, and Kaina hardly felt inclined to investigate. Instead, she reached out with her free hand and grabbed hold of the gift basket, setting it down on her lap and snatching up the note that accompanied it.

Tsutsumi, it read, in elegant, precise penmanship that all but instantly confirmed her suspicions regarding the author, I sincerely regret how our conversation ended today. You have my apologies for the guard captain's brutality- I reprimanded him afterwards for how swiftly he resorted to brute force, and I managed to convince him not to send you to the punishment cells. It was my mistake to allow you and the President to meet; I should've insisted that I come alone, but it's too late to change that now. I cannot pretend to understand the entirety of your circumstances, but I know that the wrongs done to you by her predecessor can never be fully healed, and I often remind myself that in another lifetime, it could just as easily have been me in your place.

Your anger is entirely justified, and I will not condemn you for it, nor will I condemn you if you choose not to help us in the end. Despite my efforts to the contrary, we have done nothing to regain your trust after it was so cruelly abused in the past. But all the same, I urge you not to lose faith in the people of Japan, even if you cannot keep your faith in us. They are the ones suffering most from the Syndicate's campaign of terror and violence, and they are the ones whom I call upon you to stand up and defend. If you wish to talk again, my personal number is below- I assure you that next time, it will just be me. If there is someone else you would rather speak to, simply name them, and it will be arranged.

I hope that you recover quickly.

Your friend, Hakamada Tsunugu

"Hm." Exhaling in a mixture of exasperation and amusement, Kaina set the note back on her bedside table, then grabbed hold of the ripest-looking apple in the basket and took a bite, shaking her head as she chewed and swallowed. "You always had a soft spot for trying to fix broken things, didn't you, Jeanist?"

---

18 April

"So, you hear the new rumor?"

As usual, Kiruka was the first to strike up a conversation once they'd both taken their seats, picking lazily at her bone-dry, unseasoned chicken, wilted 'salad', and stale rice as the daily chatter of the mess hall droned on in the background.

"No, what is it this time?"

Kaina hardly glanced up from her own tray, her lips still turned down in a sneer at the day's particularly insulting offering of 'food', which looked as if it had been left out to bake in the desert sun for a day before being served. Two days after her encounter with Kengen and Jeanist, the wound the Dragon had left on her head still ached with a dull but constant pain, putting her in an even worse mood than usual; her bandages were due for a change as well. Any well-equipped modern hospital could have healed the fracture and relieved any lingering discomfort within twelve hours at most, but it was no great surprise that wounds received in Tartarus tended to heal at a much slower pace than on the outside. No doctors with proper healing quirks were kept on staff- they were only called in for life-threatening emergencies, and as a result, standards of care for most injuries and ailments were around two centuries behind the rest of the country.

You gotta give 'em credit for sheer consistency- when they see a chance to make us suffer just a little bit more, they reach out and grab it.

"Word is that they're finally gonna replace some of the broken exercise machines in the gym," Slice declared matter-of-factly, smirking with smug pride at her discovery. "Sure took 'em long enough, right?"

"Yeah, sure did," Kaina murmured, still only devoting a portion of her attention to the conversation; the other half of her mind was still busy mulling over Best Jeanist's offer to meet again. In the heat of the moment, she'd been ready to strangle Kengen with her own two hands, but forty-eight hours and multiple prison meals later, the prospect of living on the outside again was growing more attractive by the moment, principles be damned. "Feels like that damn shoulder press hasn't worked for years."

"You feeling okay, Kaina?" Kiruka leaned forward, a concerned frown on her face. "No offense, but you're really out of it. I don't care if the nurse said there isn't any brain trauma, I'll bet a million goddamn yen that those fucking pigs gave you some kinda concussion that they didn't treat you for- you need to be back in the infirmary. You should go and tell the guards your pain meds are wearing off, or something like that. Just get them to look at you again., okay?"

"Listen, Kiruka, I…" Kaina paused reached up to rub at her forehead, wincing in pain- another splitting headache was coming on, one of many in the past two days. "…I appreciate it, but I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah, of course you are." Slice gave an exasperated sigh, running a hand down her face. "I'm pretty sure you could have a goddamn knife in your chest and you'd still be saying 'I'm fine'."

A rising swell of noise from the center of the mess hall diverted Kaina's attention before she could come up with a reply, and she found herself absentmindedly gazing back and forth in search of the clamor's source. It didn't take long to identify it- a small crowd of prisoners had gathered around another table half a dozen rows away, chattering excitedly, although they began to break apart when the guards began to shout commands down at them from the catwalks, shining multiple laser sights on the guilty parties. At the same time, though, whispers and murmurs had begun to spread outward like a ripple in a pond, rapidly transmitted from one table to the next.

"What's goin' on over there?" Kiruka had noticed the noise as well, and craned her head around towards the center of the hall in curiosity. "More news from the outside?"

"Sounds like it," Kaina replied, one brow raised. "Seems like something pretty big, too, if it's making this much noise."

"Ah, his should be good! Man, I can't wait to hear what the Syndicate did this time." Slice clapped her hands together with an expression of sadistic delight on her face, and Kaina was reminded once more that she had in fact been a villain before her incarceration. "Wanna take bets? Let's see…" After a moment's pause, she turned her gaze back towards Kaina, eyes wide with anticipation, and snapped her fingers. "I'm gonna bet they killed the prime minister- it's about time that old fuck bought it. How about you?"

"Me?" Kaina shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "Hell, I'd love it if they burned the HPSC to the ground, but that's just wishful thinking. They probably went after U.A. or Shiketsu this time, or maybe Best Jeanist, since he's the new number one."

Then again, I guess I'm pretty fucked if they whacked Hakamada- he's my only escape route, after all.

Over the past month, ever since word of the Black Day first spread like wildfire among Tartarus' inmates, following the villainous exploits of the self-proclaimed saviors of Japan had grown into a mess hall pastime. As the prisoners lived vicariously through every scrap of information about the Syndicate's exploits, reveling in cathartic joy with each new hero slaughtered and national symbol destroyed, the Syndicate had swiftly gained a sizable 'fan club' of sorts within the common area, united in their joy at All Might and Hawks' demise. Every new arrival was thoroughly interrogated for any updates they could offer regarding Seraph and his followers, and the guards' attempts to halt this practice had proven futile- news always slipped out some way or another. As Tartarus' staff grew increasingly worried by the prospect of either a prison riot incited by pro-Syndicate inmates or a raid on the facility by the organization itself, rumors had begun to circulate in recent days that they were preparing to suspend new inmates from accessing the common area until the crisis ended, or even shut down common area access entirely.

Well, if things get too out of hand, I'd rather they just flush us all down the drain than stick us back in solitary forever, Kaina mused, glancing over at the four tall windows set into the western side of the common area. Built into the prison's durable titanium-alloy perimeter wall, they consisted of large slabs of some custom-designed, clear plastic polymer- hard as diamond, practically impenetrable, and nearly a meter thick. They had to be, to hold back what was on the other side: as Kaina gazed through them, the endless void of bluish green was interrupted by the distinctive silhouettes of a few fish passing by, then turned to swirls and ripples by the undertow of large wave slamming into the upper section of the wall far above. Tartarus' entire common area and several of its cell blocks were located dozens of meters below sea level, and it was common knowledge that if the guards failed to contain a riot or escape attempt, the prison's warden had the authority to blow the seals on the windows and flood the entire bottom half of the facility in a matter of seconds. It was a fact that the guards were often happy to remind them of if the mess hall ever grew too unruly, and just on cue, the loudspeakers ringing the central tower crackled to life as the volume of the prisoners' chatter continued to rise.

"We would like to remind all inmates that common area access can be revoked at any time for disruptive behavior," a stern female voice declared, cold and clinical but laced with all the usual contempt and vitriol. "This includes the dissemination of restricted information, the violation of physical proximity guidelines, and any attempts to conceal conversations or interactions from Tartarus personnel. If instances of disruptive behavior become too widespread, extreme measures may be taken to restore order."

It was all too clear what the 'extreme measures' in question were referring to, and Kaina watched as Kiruka and several other inmates glanced furtively towards the windows- in the ensuing silence, the low, muffled whoosh of another wave striking the outer wall echoed through the hall, accompanied by a faint vibration coursing through the floors and tables. Conversations quickly resumed, albeit at a lower volume, and as the crowd of inmates continued to disperse, Kaina finally caught a glimpse at the trio who'd been at the center of the gathering: though they were several tables away, the one in the center towered above most of the other prisoners, with a tall, imposing frame, a heavy jawline, and a distinctive mane of greasy, unkempt red hair, muscular arms bulging against his jumpsuit. He was flanked on either side by two thinner and comparatively shorter men; one sported a pair of glasses and close-cropped blond hair atop a plain and unremarkable face, while the other was strikingly handsome by contrast, with sharp yet elegant facial features and unusual greyish-silver hair that seemed to form naturally into arrow-shaped points.

They're all definitely new, but I don't recognize 'em from the wanted list back in my day. Of course, that was eight years ago, so plenty of time for new villains to crawl out of the woodwork. Kaina felt her brows furrow in contemplation, her fingers drumming idly against the table once more. Might be real-deal Syndicate, for them to make so much buzz on their first day in here, but they don't match the description of any of the members I've heard about. Maybe yakuza? I remember hearing that one of the big gangs helped out with the attack on the Black Day, those weird plague mask motherfuckers.

Kaina spent a few more moments watching them chat with other inmates, then glanced over at Kiruka and nodded her head in the trio's direction.

"You recognize those guys? I can't place 'em."

"Huh? Lemme see." While Slice turned in her seat and peered over at the three new mess hall celebrities in question, Kaina glanced toward the other end of their own table- the ripple had finally reached their end of the hall, judging by a brief huddle of whispering between the familiar trio of female inmates to their left and a woman at the next table over.

"Hey," Kaina hissed, leaning over in their direction; as much as she hated the thought of asking them for anything, her curiosity had managed to briefly outweigh her distaste. "The hell's going on?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the blonde woman sneered, snorting with laughter as the three women rose to their feet and started off toward the entrance to the gym. "Sounds like they killed some more of your old buddies, hero bitch. You gonna go cry about it?"

As she passed their end of the table, the woman leaned over and aimed a wad of spit at Kaina's hair, but by now, this was a well-rehearsed routine- Kaina tilted her head to the side just in time to dodge the projectile, smirking in spite of herself.

"Hey, uh, Kaina?" Still gazing off towards the other end of the mess hall, Kiruka waved a frantic hand at Kaina. "Turns out I don't recognize any of those guys, but they, uh… I think they noticed me looking, and they're staring right at us."

"Then stop looking at them," Kaina hissed, grabbing hold of Kiruka's shoulder and pulling her back in the opposite direction. "Christ, did you and your buddies never learn covert recon 101? Don't draw their attention."

"Sorry, sorry," Kiruka whispered back, her face flushed red in embarrassment as she stared down at her tray. "Shit, I think they were standing up. Are they coming toward us?"

"That would be a yes," Kaina murmured, hands curling into worried fists beneath the rim of the table; though she was purposefully keeping her gaze fixed on Slice, she could still see the trio of inmates in her peripheral vision, steadily advancing down the rows of tables in their direction. "Listen, just play it cool and don't engage if they give you shit. They're new here, so they're probably going around telling people not to fuck with them, 'establishing dominance' and all that bullshit."

"Yeah, I get that. But why come straight over here?!" Kiruka's eyes flit worriedly from side to side, casting furtive glances at the other tables nearby. "There are plenty of bigger and scarier guys in here than us!"

"Look, if anything, they probably have beef with me, not you." Kaina reached up and cradled her head in both hands in exasperation, though she made sure to keep track of the approaching inmates through squinted eyes and a narrow gap in her fingers. "Maybe I took out one of their buddies when I was still working for the Commission, or some shit like that."

"God, I wish I had my quirk. Or that Chimera and Mummy were here." Slice shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous tic of hers that Kaina had noticed on several occasions. "If they ever get out of solitary, no one's ever gonna fuck with us again."

"Afternoon, ladies."

As the trio finally drew near them, the tall, muscular one spoke up first, pressing his hands down against the far end of the table; his knuckles were covered in scars and calluses, the fists of a boxer or a street brawler, and he had the crooked nose and facial scars to match. Partially obscured by messy strands of reddish hair, two sharp, cold grey eyes leered down at them, regarding the pair with a mix of amusement and contempt.

Don't see any tattoos yet, but yakuza's still looking likely, Kaina reflected, sipping calmly at her barley tea as she continued to watch him of the corner of her eye, still declining to turn and meet his gaze head-on. He fits the profile for a typical enforcer type. Quirk's probably something melee-related, brute force or speed. Face still isn't ringing any bells, though.

"Mind if we sit?" He continued, not waiting for an answer to ease himself down onto the bench two meters to Kaina's left; his two companions followed suit on the opposite side of the table, wordlessly watching and waiting. "See, we're new here- it's our first day steppin' out of our cells, so we're trying our best to make friends."

"Good for you," Kaina replied in a laid-back tone, taking one last swig of tea before glancing up at Kiruka and moving her eyes pointedly towards the gym. "Looks like you weren't having any trouble with those other tables. Sorry, but we can't stay to chat- we were just leaving, actually. Gotta get some cardio in."

Safest to just disengage. This guy's giving me a bad vibe.

Just as Kaina began to rise to her feet, though, the handsome, silver-haired man held out one hand, his gaze shifting towards her.

"Please, we would rather you stayed- just for a short chat. Apologies if my friend here gave you the wrong impression, Lady Nagant, but I can assure you that our intentions are purely benevolent."

A soft yet threatening smile spread across the inmate's face, and she noticed for the first time that a jagged, ugly scar stretched across much of the right half of his jaw- until now, she'd only seen his left side. Looks like he took a bullet point-blank to the mouth, Kaina mused, eyes narrowed. So he's the one in charge, huh? Interesting.

"We're new arrivals," the man continued, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "and thanks to that, we're in possession of a wealth of information about the outside world- information that I believe would be of great interest to you. We're prepared to give you that information, at no cost other than a few minutes of your time and attention."

Pausing midway through the process of turning to leave, Kaina turned back to face the scarred inmate, her arms crossed and her brows hiked in skepticism. Opposite her, Kiruka's response was largely the same, her mouth turned down in a hardened scowl.

"…But if that's not enough incentive on its own," the man continued, eyes flitting back and forth between them, "how about we throw in a bonus?" In one fluid motion, he produced a small, red-white box from his jumpsuit's breast pocket and slid it across the table; it came to a halt halfway between the two groups. "Consider it a gesture of gratitude, in exchange for your time and attention."

"Oh shit, you guys have cards?" Swayed almost instantly, Slice turned back and took the box in hand, sliding the deck onto the table and splaying it out to make sure it was real. "How the hell did you get these on your first day?!"

"Great question," Kaina chimed in, still keeping her distance. "They're in damn good condition, too- must be you guys' lucky day."

The common area's library kept a handful of card decks in stock, but they were notoriously difficult for any one inmate to get their hands on. As one of Tartarus' few sources of anything resembling genuine entertainment, the decks were highly sought after, and they were all 'claimed' in perpetuity by larger groups of prisoners who coordinated with their members to check them out from the library as quickly as possible at the beginning of each day. In addition to their rarity, most were in poor condition- bent, stained, and practically falling apart from years of daily use. When it came to Tartarus, finding a card deck in good condition was roughly equivalent to winning the lottery.

"They're a brand-new pack, just came in this week," the muscular inmate declared, smirking. "And we traded for 'em, fair and square."

"Traded?" Kaina felt her eyes narrow even further, her brows twitching in annoyance as her splitting headache returned. "Traded what? This isn't some low-security, white-collar resort- you can't smuggle in cigarettes or cash to bribe people with."

"Information, of course." The handsome one leaned forward and gestured for Kaina to sit, then lowered his voice, forcing her to draw closer. "As members of the Eight Precepts of Death, we're rather uniquely well-informed on what's happening outside these walls, after all."

His lips twitched upward into a subtle, eerie smile, and Kaina felt a shiver race up her spine. It was an expression she'd seen many times before, worn by countless villains and terrorists in the moments before she ended their lives- the face of a true believer.

Jesus, what a fuckin' creep.

"If you already blabbed to half the mess hall," she shot back, jerking a thumb towards the center of the room, "there's no reason for us to play along with this little routine. People in this place love to gossip- whatever it is you told them, we'll be hearing about it nonstop for the next week."

"You're right, of course." He gave another shrug, running one hand through his silver hair. "Within hours, I'm sure you'll both hear of the Syndicate's brutal attack on U.A.'s commencement ceremony- of the execution of its principal, and my lord Overhaul's complete destruction of the heroes' most beloved school, down to its very foundations. But for the infamous Slice and the lovely Lady Nagant, we're willing to trade… something more. We have an offer for you, and you both stand to benefit immensely."

For a moment, Kaina stood in silent contemplation, tapping her shoe against the floor as her eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign of guards watching them. It almost feels too perfect, like some type of sting, but I can't think of any reason the guards would want to target me or Slice in particular. If the higher-ups wanted to punish us, they wouldn't need to come up with some elaborate setup- they'd just throw us in the Coffins and make up a bullshit excuse after the fact. I sure as hell gave 'em enough of an reason to punish me the other day- I still can't believe Jeanist managed to talk the Dragon down.

"…Fine, I'll bite," she muttered with an exasperated sigh, her sense of caution outweighed by a combination of curiosity and hopeless nihilism. Striding back towards the table, she settled into her seat once more and laid her palms flat against the metal. "Keep talking. If I don't like what I hear, or I feel like you're fucking with us, we're gone. Clear?"

"Perfectly, but there's no need to rush things. Let's start with introductions, shall we? We seem to have you at a disadvantage, after all. These are my associates, Rappa and Nemoto." The man gestured first to the muscular inmate and then to the quiet one, before finally laying his hand against his own chest, his Cheshire-cat grin wider than ever. "My name is Kurono, but you can call me Chronostasis."

"Yeah, not gonna do that," Kaina shot back, eyes narrowed. "Names don't mean shit in here, especially not your bullshit little villain title. You're not yakuza anymore, or bigshot Syndicate members either- you're meat in the grinder, just like the rest of us." Kaina paused, a growing smirk on her face; across from her, Kurono was making a concerted effort to keep his expression calm and stoic, but she could see his brow twitching faintly in concealed anger. "You've got our attention, so get this over and spill it. What's your big sweetener, huh? You got some real food hidden in those jumpsuits? Some Kobe beef stuffed in your pockets? Or maybe a bottle of shampoo that doesn't smell like a chemical spill?" She threw up her hands in exasperation, wincing at another well-timed lance of pain from her head wound. "Aside from a little extra gossip about which heroes got killed and which buildings got some destroyed out in the real world, what the hell can you give us in this shithole that's worth one more second of our fucking time?"

Instead of Kurono, though, it was Nemoto who replied after a moment of tense silence, clearing his throat and speaking up in a quiet, measured tone.

"We can offer you a way out." He leaned forward, fingers steeped together atop the table, and glanced calmly between Kaina and Kiruka. "What I'm about to tell you comes directly from Overhaul and Seraph. It is not to be spread any further than this table."

"…I'm sorry," Kaina leaned forward and narrowed her eyes in disbelief, dropping her voice to just above a whisper; the throbbing in her skull was growing more insistent by the moment, and she tightened her grip on the edge of the table to compensate, gritting her teeth against the pain. "I must be fucking hallucinating, because I thought I just heard you say Overhaul and Seraph."

"That's right," Nemoto affirmed, his tone and demeanor still eerily serene. "Our offer comes from them, and I am prepared to present you with their terms."

"Get up, Kiruka. We're leaving." Kaina rose to her feet and gestured for Slice to do the same, her expression darkening. "Now I know they're fucking with us."

"But what if it is legit?" Slice hissed, running a hand through her hair. "Even if it's just a tiny chance, shouldn't we at least hear them out?"

"Think about it for five goddamn seconds." Kaina nearly reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, but thought better at the last moment, and simply slammed her hands down on the table instead, her voice a low growl. "They're claiming they have an 'offer' from their bosses on the outside, which is only possible if they're also claiming one of two things: that they're somehow communicating with them from inside Tartarus, which is impossible, or that they planned to get captured and thrown in here so they could find us and give us this offer, which is moronic." She turned back to face the trio of yakuza, arms crossed and brows furrowed. "So, which is it, boys? Are you liars or morons?"

"I guess they could always be both," Kiruka quipped, smirking.

"Well, gentlemen, I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, but…" Kaina turned to walk away with a scoff, just as Nemoto spoke up behind her.

"Why were you imprisoned here, Lady Nagant?"

"I killed the Safety Commission president."

Kaina froze in her tracks, eyes widening in shock. Did I just… say that out loud? The words had spilled so naturally and effortlessly from her mouth, coaxed out by some strange, compelling energy; a quick glance to the side at Kiruka's shocked expression confirmed that it hadn't been her imagination. Pivoting back towards Nemoto on a dime, Kaina aimed an accusing finger in his direction, growing fury in her voice.

"What did you just do to me, you little-"

"Who was your first love?" Nemoto interrupted, his tone still quiet and measured.

"T-Takeshi from math class in middle school," Kaina blurted, trying but failing to stop the words from flowing out as she surged back towards the table and slammed her palms down against the metal, centimeters from Nemoto's face. "How the fuck are you-"

"What's your greatest fear?"

"That all the lives I took were for nothing."

Already in the process of reaching out to grab the collar of Nemoto's jumpsuit, Kaina halted mid-motion, her mind racing as color flushed across her cheeks in a mix of shame, shock, and embarrassment. Whether she liked it or not, everything he'd forced her to say had been the truth, leaving only one possible explanation: He had a quirk that forced confessions, and his suppressor wasn't functioning.

"Inmate 665-698, you are to observe physical distance protocols immediately." A firm, gloved hand suddenly grabbed hold of Kaina's right shoulder from behind, yanking her backwards. "Resist, and you will be punished accordingly."

Shit, I got so worked up I dropped my guard- otherwise, I would've clocked a patrol coming halfway across the room. Eyes squeezed shut in frustration at her carelessness, Kaina straightened her posture and raised her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, moving slowly and cautiously in order to avoid another brush with corporal punishment.

"…Apologies, sir. I just got a little worked up over a card game, I didn't mean to…"

Kaina faltered midsentence, eyes widening briefly in shock as she turned to meet the guard's gaze. The man staring back at her was her young 'admirer' from two days prior- the deputy warden's son, Shishikura Seiji.

"…Didn't mean to violate any regulations," Kaina finished in an even tone, swiftly regaining her composure and reverting her expression to a blank slate. "It won't happen again."

Just my fucking luck that this creep is the one who catches me about to start a fight. Jesus, that was stupid.

"See that it doesn't." Shishikura replied, his smug expression brimming with the same patronizing aura as before. "And the rest of you as well," he added, gesturing towards Slice and the yakuza with his stun baton before sliding it back into its holster. "Keep your distance. Failure to comply with this facility's regulations will not be tolerated."

Well, at least I can use him to bust these yakuza dipshits, Kaina reminded herself, struggling to keep a grin from slipping onto her face as she exchanged a knowing glance with Kiruka. I'm not big on snitching, but if you're gonna threaten me and show off your quirk in the middle of the mess hall, then you deserve what you've got coming.

"'Failure to comply with regulations', huh?" Planting her hands on her hips, Kaina allowed herself a faint smirk as she turned and nodded towards the three yakuza. "Y'know, it's real funny you should mention that, officer."

"Oh?" Shishikura crossed his arms, one brow raised in subdued amusement. "And why is that?"

Kaina stopped short of replying, her eyes narrowing in confusion as she watched the yakuza's faces. Nemoto, for his part, was still sitting across from her with a neutral, unfazed expression, entirely unconcerned by the new development; Kurono and Rappa, meanwhile, looked to be genuinely enjoying themselves, watching Kaina with anticipation.

Something reeks here. Her eyes were darting between the three of them at rapid speed now, searching for any minute tells- any indications, no matter how small, that they were putting on a confident façade to hide fear or anxiety. If these guys somehow found a way to turn off their quirk suppressors, they should be shitting their pants now that a guard showed up right in the middle of their demonstration. Even if there's no visible sign that Nemoto was using his quirk, and Shishikura didn't hear us talking, they have to be nervous that we'll rat them out. No one's that good at hiding their emotions- fucking no one.

"Cat got your tongue?" Kurono quipped, brows hiked in mock concern.

"H-He was using his quirk!" Slice finally blurted, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at Nemoto. "I saw him do it, he-"

"Inmate 771-929, you're behaving erratically," Seiji interjected, his eyes narrowed and his tone cold and clinical; holding one hand out towards Kiruka, he began to move the other towards the holster of his pistol. "Step back and place your hands on your head, now."

"W-What?" Slice stammered, brows knit in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about? Did you not hear me? I told you, he just-"

"Did you just threaten me, inmate?" Shishikura's voice had grown low and menacing, his fingers wrapping slowly and deliberately around the pistol's grip. "On your knees, now, or I will open fire."

At the same time, a few meters to the left, Rappa rose to his feet with a yawn, stretching out his burly arms and moving his head from side to side to produce a series of audible cracks along his neck. He didn't need to say anything for Kaina to understand the message he intended to convey; he simply turned and took two steps forward, coming to a halt at Shishikura's side with a wide grin on his face and a feral look in his half-hidden eyes.

"Do what he fucking says." Kaina snapped, eyes wide; it took a considerable deal of willpower to resist the urge to lean over the table and slap a hand over Slice's mouth before she could dig herself deeper. "Just shut up and be cool, okay?!"

Piece by piece, the full extent of their current predicament was becoming clearer, and the more she understood, the more Kaina's head ached, throbbing in time with her quickening heartbeat. Jesus fucking Christ, the deputy warden's kid is a Syndicate mole. How did I end up in the middle of this apocalyptic fucking shitshow? I was just trying to mind my own goddamn business. Across the table, Kiruka had done as Shishikura asked, dropping to her knees as a look of shock and revelation slowly dawned across her face; when her eyes met Kaina's, a silent understanding passed between the two, and Slice swore viciously beneath her breath, glancing back and forth in search of an escape route. Half a beat later, her eyes seized on something a few tables over - the other three members of Shishikura's patrol. Guards never roamed the mess hall floor alone, of course- they generally moved in squads of four, as usual- and the rest of Seiji's squad were just a dozen-odd meters away, busy breaking up a minor scuffle between another group of inmates. Her eyes narrowing, Slice nodded subtly in their direction, but Kaina gave a firm shake of her head; if one Syndicate sympathizer had managed to infiltrate the Tartarus guard, there was no telling if others had been turned as well. In all likelinhood, the true number of traitors was small, but without any way to determine how many were dirty, trying to expose Shishikura to his colleagues still remained too much of a risk. Even if he were the only mole, running up to his fellow guards and shouting that he was a Syndicate spy was more likely to be met with a stun baton and time in the punishment cells than any serious consideration, especially given that they had nothing in the way of hard evidence.

If he's in this deep and hasn't been caught, he's covered his tracks well, she knew, running both hands down her face and grimacing as the sweat from her brow stung at her eyes. I bet he's got his alibis and cover stories all lined up and ready to go. He won't have left any breadcrumbs to follow.

During her career as an executioner, Kaina had dealt with dozens of corrupt heroes, police, and HPSC officials, and over time, she'd begun to group them into two categories. First, and most abundant, were the amateurs- sloppy, greedy, impulsive, looking for a quick score. They were usually first-time criminals who quickly squealed when cornered, unable to even conceive that they could be caught. Rarer but much more dangerous were the professionals- men and women with the patience and intelligence to think in the long-term, acting carefully and deliberately according to a well-structured plan, with contingencies and alibis in place and the foresight to conceal their trail. They often displayed the tendencies of sociopaths or pathological liars, able to convincingly squirm their way out of all but the tightest of binds with a smile on their face. It was precisely because of the difficulty of convicting them in court that Lady Nagant had often been brought in to deal with them- they couldn't lie their way past a bullet, after all. And by now, as loath as she was to admit it, Kaina could tell – Shishikura Seiji was a professional, not an amateur.

Even worse, he's the one holding the gun this time around. If they change their mind, he can kill us at any time, for any reason- and so can he, she reminded herself, eyes flitting again towards Rappa. I'm pretty scrappy in a fistfight, but I'm not delusional- this guy could snap my neck like a twig. Neither of us would stand a chance without our quirks if he cornered us, and I bet he'd be more than happy to take the fall for his bosses, even if it meant getting gunned down in the process. Hell, he could kill us both right now, and daddy's boy over here would twist things to make sure he gets taken down nonlethally.

"Everything good over there?" One of the other guards in Shishikura's squad called, moving a few steps towards their table as the other two began to cuff a struggling inmate behind her. "You need any help, rookie?"

"It's under control," Seiji replied, his hand moving away from his holster. Seemingly satisfied with Slice's show of obedience, he dropped his voice back to a lower volume, relaxed his posture, and gave Kaina a knowing nod, his lips twitching up into a slight grin. "Isn't it, Inmate 665-698?"

"…Yes, it is," Kaina replied, her eyes still locked with Slice's to ensure that she didn't speak up again. We got outplayed, she reminded herself, trying her best to convey the same message to Kiruka through her gaze. Nothing we can do now but zip it and try and make it out of this alive. "There won't be any more problems, sir." Try as she might, Kaina couldn't help but inject a bit of venom into the last word; Shishikura hardly seemed to mind, though, simply chuckling in amusement as he turned and started back towards his squadmates.

"I'll hold you to that. Enjoy your lunch, everyone- and play nice."

"Oh, we always play nice." Rappa let out a deep, guttural chuckle as he settled back into his seat, though Kaina couldn't help but notice a definite tinge of disappointment in his demeanor. Within moments, Kaina and Kiruka had both done the same, and they were left back where they started- staring down Kurono as he smiled back at them.

"Well," he finally declared after a long, tense silence, clapping his hands together, "I have to admit, ladies, I was hoping to avoid that sort of unpleasantness, but looking back, I think it might have been for the best." He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, glancing between them. "Now that you understand your… situation a bit better, are we finally ready to talk?"

"Yes," Kaina hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing at her aching forehead. "We're ready to talk."

"Glad to hear it," Kurono replied, brows hiked. "Since you mentioned how your time is so valuable, I'm sure you won't mind if I cut straight to the bottom line, then?"

"Knock yourself out, buddy."

After another moment's pause, Kurono leaned forward and beckoned for Kaina and Kiruka to do the same; in an instant, his mocking demeanor had vanished, replaced entirely by cold contempt.

"In three days, the Syndicate and the Eight Precepts will assault this facility and free us from our captivity, along with our brethren still confined in their cells. When that time comes, you will both be faced with a choice. You can assist us, and once you're free, you'll be rewarded with a life of comfort, abundance, and most of all, purpose. Or, you can take your shot with them, and see how far you make it before the guards gun you down or drown you."

Kurono gestured dismissively towards the rest of the mess hall, making no attempt to conceal his abject disdain for the other inmates, then he locked eyes again with Kaina; a hint of his smirk had returned.

"You have twenty-four hours to decide. We look forward to hearing your answer."

---

And we're back! As you may have noticed, this chapter isn't exactly what I promised in the author's note last time, and that's because the original version of Ch. 36 was getting way too long, with Kaina's POV dominating a majority of the runtime. So after some consideration, I decided to divide what I had in two, with the Tartarus POV coming out first and the rest of the main story following soon, hopefully in 1-2 months since it's largely already written.

With that aside, let me know what you think of Lady Nagant as a character, and how she might respond to her current predicament! Crafting the twisted world of Tartarus was a really good time, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on the developments with both Kengen/Jeanist and the yakuza/Shishikura. Your reviews are always appreciated, they make a huge difference!