Izuku stopped to catch his breath; even though he'd figured out how to use his quirks without injuring himself, he still couldn't use them for an extended period. So he had one of two options: increase his stamina by reducing the power of the quirks, or find a way to end a fight in one or two hits.
During training, he's had problems with both, so he decided to go with option three, strength training. If he increased his strength, then he should be able to channel his quirks at more power for longer. Or, at least, that was the theory. From all his quirk research, there was no surefire way to increase someone's ability to tolerate using their quirk.
So instead of following the rest of his classmates to the training grounds during free periods, he went to the weight room instead. A couple of third years stared at him from across the room; one said to the other, "dude, that kid just squatted one fifty."
"Yeah, man, I saw, must have a strength quirk or something," replied the other.
"Well, if he does, he didn't activate it," said the first.
"And how can you tell? That kid just squatted more than most of us ever could; he's definitely using his quirk," said the second.
Izuku ignored them; he used a towel to wipe sweat from his brow, then reached for his water bottle. "Wow, Midoriya, you're pretty strong!" He looked up and spotted Mirio walking up to him. "I'm not sure I could even lift that!"
Izuku waved, "Thanks, I've put a lot of effort into strength training."
"Yeah, you have; keep up the good work, Midoriya!" Mirio went past and started his own exercises.
"You too, Mirio," Izuku stood up from the bench and headed to the locker room. He showered, changed, then headed toward the dorms. On his way there, he met Todoroki.
Todoroki raised a hand in greeting, then asked, "Midoriya, are you coming back from the weight room?"
Izuku nodded, "Yeah, I've hit a wall with my quirk, so I've started weight training."
"Sounds like that hurt," Todoroki had his usual serious expression, "hitting a wall, I mean."
Izuku stopped walking, just staring at Todoroki, was he, was he being serious? Did he actually think that he hit a literal wall? Todoroki was one of the most intelligent people he knew, but surely he knew what an idiom was.
"I mean, I didn't hit an actual wall," Izuku couldn't believe he had to explain this to Todoroki, of all people.
"Oh, well, you said you hit a wall with your quirk," replied Todoroki, completely serious.
"Yeah, I did, but that's like, a turn of phrase, ya know?" said Izuku.
Todoroki shook his head, "I've never heard that one before."
"Oh, umm" really? He'd never heard of 'hitting a wall' before? "Sorry then, I meant I've had some problems with my quirk."
Todoroki turned and said, "That's rough, buddy."
"Yeah, it is," replied Izuku.
They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the dorms. The common room had a few people in it, and as Izuku walked towards the elevator Todoroki went over to Yaoyorozu and asked, "Have you ever heard of the phrase 'hit a wall'?"
As Yaoyorozu explained what 'hitting a wall' meant, Izuku got into the elevator and selected his floor. When he got off, he nearly bumped into Bakugo and Kirishima.
"Hey, bro! Enjoy your workout?" asked Kirishima.
Izuku nodded, "Yeah, it was great."
Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been meaning to hit the gym, but I got swamped with homework, so I don't have time."
"That's cause you're a grade A dumbass," said Bakugo.
"Well, if I'm grade A, why am I failing English?" Kirishima leaned over to Bakugo, a massive grin on his face. Bakugo only rolled his eyes. Kirishima's shoulders slumped slightly, and he said, "But seriously, I need a lot of help."
"Oh, I can help you; my English is passable," said Izuku. "Let me just drop off my stuff, and I'll meet you down in the common room."
Kirishima grinned, "Thanks, man, you're a lifesaver."
He shuffled past the two, trying to avoid making eye contact with Bakugo. Izuku noticed that Bakugo had been nicer since he came back. But he still had a hair trigger and the same nasty attitude. As if he could read his mind, Bakugo growled at Izuku, "What? You got some sorta problem, nerd?"
Izuku shook his head, "No, just thinking about something."
Bakugo glared, then stalked towards the elevator. Izuku continued to his room, dropped off his gym bag, and was about to head down to the common room when he had a thought. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his text messages until he found Miruko's name. He started typing, then erased the message, then rewrote it, scrutinizing it, before erasing it again, then rewrote it.
Hi Mrs. Miruko, it's Midoriya; I've been having some trouble lately with my quirk. I'm only able to draw so much power without hurting myself. I don't know how to increase my ability to tolerate more of my quirk. Do you have any suggestions that would help?
He sent the message, pocketed his phone, and jogged down the hallway to the elevator.
Rumi ducked under the arm of the robot and struck its side with a heavy blow causing it to stumble to the side. Its arm flailing to catch its balance. Before it could, she kicked the side of its head, triggering the 'knockout' protocol, and it shut down. ["Is that really it?"] asked Rumi, panting ["Alright, bump it up a level."]
The tech nodded and increased the difficulty to professional. The bot stared up and reached out with a mitt. Rumi bumped it, and the fight began. The bot swung its other glove, almost catching her off guard. She blocked the strike and brought her knee into the bot's padded torso.
The bot maintained its balance and tried to hit her with three jabs, one with its left, two with its right. But this was easy for her to duck under and around the strikes, and putting all her weight and strength, she punched the bot's head. The blow was so hard that she accidentally knocked its head off, sending it hurtling across the gym. ["Shit, my bad, guys."] She grinned at the tech, who sighed.
A couple techs hopped into the ring and hauled the damaged bot away, ["Okay, I think I can handle expert mode now."]
The techs glanced at each other, and one shrugged, ["Okay."]
They got a new bot set up in the ring, connected it to the computer, and booted it up, the bot reached out with a glove, and Rumi tapped it.
She woke up staring at the ceiling with aching ribs and a pounding headache. "Damn it." She didn't remember the fight, but she knew it beat her again.
Doctor Katari noticed was by her bed reading from a magazine; without looking over, he said, ["A couple of your ribs broke, and your right arm was shattered, I administered a nano injection and gave you a hit of ketamine about half an hour ago so they should be fully healed within four or five hours."] Rumi groaned; great, just great, she's gonna be stuck here for a while. ["Stop whining; it's your own damn fault. If I were you, I'd stop trying to beat the bot on expert mode."]
["Yeah, well, you aren't me,"] said Rumi.
["No shit Sherlock, unlike you, I'm not a complete dumbass."] Doctor Katari flipped a page of his magazine.
Rumi scowled at him, ["Oh, and what makes you so smart."]
Doctor Katari replied, ["I'm not lying in that bed with five broken ribs and a shattered arm."]
["That doesn't mean your smart."] muttered Rumi.
["I suppose it doesn't, but it means I'm smarter than you."] God, this Doctor was pissing her off.
["Listen here, you fucking asshole-"] before she could continue, the door opened, and Jacky walked into the room.
Doctor Katari finally looked up from his magazine, ["Ah, good, someone who can tolerate your horrendous attitude."] He stood up from the chair, ["If you need me, I'll be in my office."] He tucked the magazine under his arm and strode to the small cubicle at the other end of the ward.
Jacky sat down ["Girl, you gotta reign in that temper of yours, it's gonna get you in trouble one of these days."]
["Can't help it. Just who I am,"] grumbled Rumi.
Jacky shook her head, ["Ain't that the truth."] Then she sighed and asked, ["How are you feeling?"]
Rumi casually answered, ["Like I got hit by a semi, I'd say a truck, but I've been hit by one of those before, and they don't really hurt all that much."]
Jacky's eyes bugged, ["You've been hit by a truck before?"]
["Oh yeah, more than once, actually. The first time there was this villain who had robbed a jewelry store, and their getaway vehicle was this truck. Dude pulled out onto the street as I rounded the corner and slammed into me. Fortunately, I managed to stop it before it hit someone else."] As Rumi told the story, Jacky's expression only became more surprising.
["Hold on, hold on, you stopped a truck? Like, you caught it?"] Jacky asked, amazed.
Rumi nodded ["Yeah, I pretty much knocked the engine out of the truck."] It wasn't as big of an accomplishment as Jacky probably thought it was. The truck was a small two-seater one, roughly the size of a midsize car, and it weighed, at most, half a ton. Really, it was only a truck in the sense that it could haul things around.
Jacky probably thought Rumi was talking about one of those monster trucks that Americans have. The ones that have the full cab and easily weigh two tons. She always thought it was ludicrous that Americans thought they needed those steel behemoths. But they were Americans; go big or go home was their motto, and boy, they excelled at going big.
Rumi wasn't about to acknowledge the huge differences between the truck that hit her and those monuments of vanity called pickup trucks. ["So, why haven't you been able to beat that bot yet? I mean, if you can destroy a truck, you should be able to destroy the bot, right?"]
["My problem isn't strength, I'm looking to win a fair fight against it, I won't feel satisfied if I just scrap it."] said Rumi. This was a test of skill, not just a test of strength. If she managed to beat that bot on the highest difficulty without destroying it, she'd have accomplished a feat hardly anyone could hope to pull off.
["I think I get it, you wanna prove yourself,"] Jacky had it spot on.
Rumi nodded, ["Yeah, I do."]
["Because of Brad and all the other pig-headed men?"] asked Jacky.
A part of her wanted to say, 'yeah, to rub it in their faces!' but that would be disingenuous. She didn't want to do this out of some petty ideals, yeah, it would be nice to rub in her victory, her accomplishment, but in a way, it betrays the very meaning behind the achievement. Simply put, she had to win for no reason other than the fact that she'd never settle for losing. Rumi shook her head ["Honestly, I just wanna win."]
Jacky was surprised by Rumi's response, ["Is that it? No underlying meaning? You just wanna win for the sake of winning?"]
Rumi shrugged, ["I guess."]
After a moment, Jacky replied, ["Okay, I dig it. You go, girl."]
She knew Jacky was just trying to be supportive, but it seemed she was a little disappointed in Rumi's reason. And for a moment, Rumi was disappointed in herself for not being able to beat that bot and not really having a real reason to beat that bot.
But her self-disappointment passed quickly, and the burning desire to conquer raged ever brighter.
Jacky checked her watch and said, ["Well, I should get going. Rest up, and don't give Doctor Katari an aneurysm."]
["If he gets one, it ain't my fault!"] Rumi waved goodbye to Jacky as she left the ward. Rumi laid back against the soft pillow, stared at the ceiling, and let her mind freely wander; random ideas flitted in and out of her head, never staying long enough for Rumi to latch onto and examine them.
Then she blinked, and it seemed several hours had passed, "damn, what time is it?"
She sat in a daze, the setting sun casting its light through the room's length. She looked at the bed stand beside her and slowly reached for her phone. When she checked the time, she saw a message,
Hi Mrs. Miruko, it's Midoriya; I've been having some trouble lately with my quirk. I'm only able to draw so much power without hurting myself. I don't know how to increase my ability to tolerate more of my quirk. Do you have any suggestions that would help?
The kid was having trouble with his quirk? Well, he's barking up the wrong tree; the only issue she had with her quirk was holding back. That and the parts of her quirk that caused her to act more animalistic. She'd managed to get them under control as an adult, but more than once in middle and high school, she almost lost control and had to hole up for a few days. Looking back, her time spent in the underground fighting ring was the only thing keeping her from pouncing on the first boy who smelled nice.
She quickly typed out an apology to Midoriya,
Sorry kid, I got nothing for ya; also, don't call me Mrs. Miruko; call me Usagiyama.
She sighed and flexed her arm, it was still a little sore, but it didn't hurt at all. Back home, it would've taken at least a couple of days for her to heal from this kind of injury. But apparently, medical technology here in the US is much better than in Japan. She just wished it was cheaper. If she'd gotten hurt as a civilian, this would cost her something like 4-5000 dollars minimum. Probably more.
Wobbling as she got up, Rumi slowly made her way out of the room, calling out to Dr. Katari ["Thanks, doc, I'm gonna head out now."]
From his office, she heard him mutter curses, then replied, ["Not like anything I say will stop you, but try not to do any heavy lifting for the next 12 hours."]
["Yeah yeah, I'll see ya next week!"] Hopefully, she wouldn't, but she's been here every Friday afternoon since she started fighting that bot.
Jonathan sat in silence throughout the ceremony; Clare sat on one side, Victoria on the other, her little hand clasped his own, and even though she didn't fully understand what was happening, she stayed silent.
["And now, as the ceremony comes to a close, we invite friends and family to stay after, to celebrate Tammy's life,"] at the priest's words, a few people in the audience stood and left without a word. Several came to him, saying how sorry they were that this happened and how healthy his mom seemed when they saw her last.
He didn't really register how many people came to him, nor did he really care. When everyone had finished, he, Victoria still clutching his hand, and Claire left the room. Jonathan paused and took one last look at the altar, the urn of ashes still resting on it. She'd remain here in the church, not because Jonathan didn't want to take her home with him, but because she loved it here, more than anywhere else.
He never had a love of religion, no matter how many times she and his dad had dragged him out of bed in the early hours of the morning to go to mass. When he turned 16, he outright refused to go, which broke his parent's hearts. But from then on, they didn't force him to go. They'd always ask if he wanted to go with them, but he'd always refuse. It had been over a decade since he'd sat in these uncomfortable pews and walked down these dreary and unremarkable halls.
They entered the foyer, where people were milling around, talking to each other, eating food, and drinking a prodigious amount of coffee. Looking around, he only knew a handful of people, he'd gone to school with most of them, and he'd barely recognized them.
Timm, a heavyset man with a large scraggly beard, spotted him and waved. Jonathan waved back; Timm was a good guy, always was. Although in High school, Timm weighed maybe 80 pounds wet. The person Timm was talking to, a man named Jake, was tall, gangly, and balding. The thin wisps of his hair contrasted the long flowing locks he had back when he was a teenager.
["Hey man, I heard about your mom, I'm sorry for your loss."] Timm had waddled over and reached out for a handshake ["You, um, probably don't recognize me. I'm Timm."]
Jonathan smiled, ["Yeah Timm, I recognized you, how are you."] He shook Timm's incredibly firm handshake.
Timm replied, ["Doing well, all things considered. Got a job working for Stanford, and I just got back in town. I saw a post on Facebook about your mom and came over, thought I otta pay my respects and such."]
Yup, as always, Timm was a great guy. ["Thanks for coming, Timm, did you know my mom well?"]
Timm's shoulders slumped ["Not really, no, I knew her, and I was in the same bible study class as her for a few years, but other than that, I didn't really get to know her all that well."]
["It's enough that you knew her, thanks again, Timm."] Jonathan nodded to him.
Timm, apparently wanting to keep the conversation going, asked, ["So umm, you have a daughter?"]
Jonathan glanced down and smiled at Victoria, ["yeah, Victoria, can you say hi to Timm?"]
Victoria excitedly waved at Timm, who smiled and asked ["Can you tell me how old you are?"]
Victoria nodded, ["I'm…"] she paused and held up her hands, then started counting ["One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!"]
["Your seven? Wow."] Timm spoke with equal enthusiasm. ["She's a cutie, you must be proud, Jonathan."]
Jonathan nodded ["Yeah, she's the light of my life."]
Timm jokingly replied, ["Don't let the wife hear, she might get jealous."]
Claire winced, and Jonathan shook his head, ["No, ummm, we aren't together anymore."]
Timm's smile faded ["Oh, umm, sorry to hear that. Was it a mutual thing, or…"] Timm glanced around, probably looking for another topic.
["Mutual,"] answered Jonathan, ["She has custody of Victoria most of the time, I get her every other weekend, as long as I'm working and here in the US."]
["Oh, you travel a lot?"] asked Timm.
Jonathan shrugged, ["Sometimes, depends on the job. I'm a pro-hero, so sometimes I have to travel out of the country for a while. In fact, I just came back from a job in Japan."]
Timm nodded ["Oh, that's neat, so what did you have to do?"]
Jonathan replied, ["Can't talk specifics, the case is still ongoing, but I worked as an instructor at UA."] Travis had secretly kept him, Clair, and Miruko informed on the current situation of the case they were working on. Ever since Mitsuzuka was arrested, several dozen pro-heroes in Japan have been identified to be working with Mitsuzuka. Most were convicted, but a couple were released but were fired from the hero organization. The whereabouts of All for One and his cronies were unknown, but Travis said they had a lead from China that they were looking into.
["Interesting, so like, you're almost like a secret agent superhero then?"] asked Timm.
Jonathan nodded ["Yeah, I guess."]
["Never pegged you for the type, always thought you'd go into engineering or something, specially because of that power of yours."] said Timm.
Jonathan shrugged and said ["I manage."]
["I couldn't do it; hell, I don't even have a power. Although I guess if you could make it, if I had applied myself, I could've done the same."] Timm slumped, ["Ah well, the past is the past, no sense in beating myself up about it."]
It was a saying that Jonathan understood but could never entirely use. The past constantly tormented him in some way, shape, or form. It lingered in the back of his mind, waiting patiently until everything was quiet. When it made itself known, it always dredged up his worst memories, either his suffering or the suffering he caused others.
In High school, he never quite fit in; he was one of the few kids that had developed a power. In a class of 400, there were roughly thirty of them, and his power was identified as being the most practical out of the others. One kid had laser beams that came out of his eyes. In middle school, he got caught checking out girls several times because his power would randomly activate. Another classmate could turn into goo, and one, who got possibly the worst treatment, had a chicken power. Shed cluck in the middle of sentences, her arms grew feathers, and she occasionally laid an egg. By senior year, she almost exclusively ate corn and insects.
By comparison, his quirk was the most useful, and he was the most normal with powers. For a while, most kids made fun of his power because it wasn't flashy; then, in turn, he'd made fun of the other kids with powers that weren't that great.
Now, as an adult, he realized that he'd been a colossal asshole to his other classmates; his guilt was so bad he'd been avoiding his former schoolmates, even avoiding going to class reunions. He'd always get an invite, and they always remembered to send one, but he never went. He didn't think he'd be able to look some of them in the eye without feeling the massive guilt he'd been carrying around.
Timm then dragged him out of the past and said, ["Well, I should go; I gotta get back home and back to that grind."]
Jonathan nodded, ["I get that, drive safe man."]
Timm smiled, ["You too, bud."] Timm then waved as he left.
Claire then tugged on his sleeve and nodded to an unoccupied couch in the corner. ["Can we go sit down over there?"] Claire was probably uncomfortable standing in the middle of a room of people she didn't know. He was, too; he only knew a couple people here and had no desire to talk with them. Especially after old memories being dredged up after talking with Timm.
As Claire and Jonathan sat on the couch, Victoria, being the social creature she was, ran up to almost everyone in the room, loudly talking about things she was interested in, what kind of foods she liked, and that she hoped that her power would make things go boom. Jonathan watched as she ran around from person to person, the little smile on her face brightening everyone's mood.
"I need you to recover an experimental quirk enhancement device. Bring it to me in one piece, and you'll be rewarded handsomely." The man on the other end of the phone said; Wolfrum rubbed his chin, considering the offer.
Breaking into a highly guarded tech facility was easy money.
Breaking into I Island, though, that's like breaking into Fort Knox with a toothpick. Even if they got past the guards, they'd have to contend with a state-of-the-art security system that managed to defeat a crack team of Spetsnaz and KGB operatives.
Not that he wouldn't be willing to try for the right price. "Depends on how much you're gonna pay me for my company's services."
The client chuckled, "I can assure you the contract will be more than lucrative."
That wasn't the answer he was looking for. Wolfram hated rich pricks who promised jack and delivered shit. "You're gonna have to tell me a number, friend, or else I ain't gonna be able to help you."
The client laughed; the dark chuckling sent a cold wave of fear through his spine, "Very well, think of it as a blank check. I'll cover the cost of materials and manpower you require, and you'll get to set the price afterward."
Wolfram froze, his cigar fizzled. Was this guy serious? A blank check to do with as he pleased? Boy, this dude really wanted that device badly. Sure, his group of mercs was a first-rate company, but he didn't think it warranted a blank check. Then coming to his senses, Wolfram laughed, "You've just bought yourself the Wolfpack. I promise that this device will get to you, come hell or high water."
His new boss replied, "Excellent; contact me when you come up with an amount for payment." Then he hung up.
Wolfram took a long puff from his cigar; now, how was he going to get into I Island? By water? No, their automatic subs and sonar array would pick them up before they'd get within ten miles. By air? Not a chance, I Island was a no-fly zone to any unauthorized flights, and they had the legal authority to shoot down anything that so much as brushed their airspace.
God, whose dumbass idea was it to allow corporations to set up their own no-fly zones and enforce them?
It'd be so much easier if he had someone on the inside.
Wolfram leaned back in his cushy armchair and put his feet up on the mahogany desk. "Ah well, I'll think of something eventually. I always do."
Izuku used black whip again, the black tendrils shooting out and wrapping around the practice dummy. He yanked back, trying to channel his strength quirk; the dummy was yanked to him he caught it deftly with one hand. Then while keeping one dummy restrained, he tried to use his other hand. He shot tendrils out towards another, but like last time, the tendrils around the first dummy dissipated.
"Damn it," muttered Izuku.
He'd been at it for hours, but he still hadn't been able to channel black whip through more than one hand at a time. His arms ached from overusing his quirk; maybe he should give up for now and come back another day.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a tall bald man appear; he was leaning against a pillar with a slight grin on his face. "Don't worry, kid, took me a while to figure out how to use more than one hand at a time too."
It didn't make him feel better; he was supposed to figure out how to use all of his new quirks; he could barely use his strength quirk as it is; how did they expect him to learn five more?
"There's a trick to it," Izuku glanced over to the man when he said that.
"What?" He generally avoided talking to these, for lack of a word, ghosts, but since he was alone, he felt it was more or less safe to answer the man.
"Use fewer tendrils per hand; start out with one per hand." Izuku focused on creating a tendril out of his pointer finger. Then he tried doing the same with his other hand. Then for a few glorious seconds, a tendril wriggled out of his other hand before dissipating. "Good, now do it again, but make the whips longer."
Izuku tried, but he could only make whips that were about two meters long. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the manikin and threw it with all his strength at a wall. The manikin shattered when it hit the concrete wall. He took a deep breath to get his emotions back under control. "At least you've gotten more control over your strength quirk."
"M-Mr. Aizawa!" he jumped and turned around.
Mr. Aizawa gazed over at the broken practice dummy, then back to Izuku, "It's Saturday; shouldn't you be back in the dorm with the rest of your class doing god knows what?"
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, truth be told, he hadn't told anyone he'd be here, and he wasn't supposed to be here. "Sorry sir, I've been having trouble with my quirk recently, and well, I umm…."
"You decided to sneak in and practice alone." finished Mr. Aizawa. His bloodshot eyes held no mercy. Izuku was sure that Mr. Aizawa was going to give him a week's worth of detention, at the very minimum.
Mr. Aizawa sighed, "If you wanted extra practice, you should have come to me and asked first."
Izuku bowed, "I'm sorry. Please, let me continue to use the practice gym on Saturdays."
Mr. Aizawa grunted, "Fine, but never come on your own. Always bring a buddy."
Izuku stood up, "Yes, sir, I'll keep that in mind."
"Good," Mr. Aizawa turned and started to walk to the exit, then paused, "A male classmate; if I find out your sneaking girls in here, I'll have you expelled."
Izuku bowed again, "Of course, sir!" Once Mr. Aizawa left, Izuku decided it was probably time to head back to the dorms himself, he'd been here for hours already, and he had homework he had to work on anyways.
Claire zipped up her flight suit, tucked her helmet under her arm, and left the changing room. She strode through the terminal and passed civilians heading to their flights. When she came to a terminal on the far side of the airport, she presented her ID badge to the attendant, who let her through onto the tarmac. Claire stepped out into the wall of heat and slid her helmet on. She really wished she could have some sort of suit climate control system.
She rechecked her equipment, making sure it was all in working order, then called the control tower, ["Raptor to Denver control tower, I am ready for pushback and takeoff, over."]
The air traffic controller replied a moment later, ["Roger that Raptor, you are clear for pushback and takeoff from runway E-04. Over."]
["Roger Denver, moving to runway E-04, over."] She got onto a trolly that the airport provided, told the driver the destination, and the trolly trundled off. The driver tried to make some small talk with her, but she couldn't carry it on for longer than a few minutes. Eventually, they made it to the runway, and she got off, thanked the driver, then contacted the tower that she was ready for takeoff.
Once they gave her permission, she started up her engine, unfolded the wings in her backpack, and took off. The Earth dropped away as she soared into the sky. She leveled off at five thousand feet and started her patrol.
Today, like almost every day, was quiet. She'd met a pair of F-402s that were out training. The F-402, or Alligator, was an aging multirole fighter used by the US military. Not many were seen anymore, and the ones still in service were used as training aircraft. She climbed a little higher to ensure she was out of the Alligators' way.
About two hours into her patrol, she picked up a two-seat civilian aircraft on her radar; checking the flight records, she realized the plane was not where it was supposed to be. So she got on the radar, ["Flight two charlie two, this is Raptor, what is your destination, over?"]
A moment later, the pilot replied, ["Uhhh, this is flight two, charlie, two, my destination is the airfield in San Luis, over."]
Their instruments must be malfunctioning; they'd just passed the valley, ["Flight two, charlie, two, you passed San Luis already, are your instruments working? Over."]
There was a pause, then the pilot replied, nervousness creeping into their tone, ["Umm, no, they're not, Raptor; I am resetting my GPS now. Over."] The pilot reset their GPS then said ["Raptor, my guidance is nonfunctional. Would it be possible for you to guide me to San Luis? Over."]
Finally, something to do. ["I'll bring you in flight two, charlie, two, hold your current course and angels, I will be there in fifteen minutes. Over."]
["Roger Raptor, holding current course and angels. Over."] Replied the pilot.
Claire set her course and laid in a bit more speed. Before too long, she found the lost aircraft; it was a C-29; these planes had a notorious habit for being unreliable piles of junk. She was surprised it was still flying. She pulled up next to the plane, roughly fifty feet away, and contacted the pilot, ["Alright two charlie two, you'll need to bank left to bearing one two zero. Over."]
["Roger Raptor, banking left to bearing one two zero. Over."] She watched the plane tilt to the left; she followed its path, maintaining plenty of distance between herself and the aircraft. Then the plane leveled out, and she got back on the radio ["Good, we'll stay on this path for another twenty minutes, then I'll hand you over to air traffic control. They can guide you the rest of the way. Over."]
["Thanks again, Raptor, over."] The pilot sounded relieved.
Claire flew the rest of the way with the pilot and watched the tiny aircraft touch down on the runway below, ["Well, that was relatively painless."] She turned to continue her route, and for a while, it was calm. If anything, today was an excellent day to fly, mostly clear skies, it wasn't overly hot at her altitude, and air traffic was pretty light today.
But the peace was shattered when she got a call over her radio, ["Mayday, Mayday, Boxer One, Mayday!"] There was some static then she heard them again, ["Boxer one punching out!"]
There was silence for a few seconds before she heard another pilot on the radio ["Mayday, Mayday, Boxer Two, Mayday. Boxer Flight midair collision, Boxer one punched out with a good chute. I have received significant damage to my engine, and I am attempting to glide to the nearest airport or field, over."]
Claire's heads-up display pinpointed Boxer two's position, altitude, heading, and speed. She turned and went full throttle, it wasn't like she could actually do much, but she'd at least be on station. ["Boxer two, this is Raptor, I'm heading your way and will be ready to render any assistance you need. ETA twelve minutes, over."]
["Rodger Raptor, maintaining current heading, altitude seven angels and dropping, over."] She marveled at how calm the pilot was; after surviving a midair collision and losing power to his engine. Most pilots would be panicking. But these were military pilots, so they were probably trained in how to deal with this scenario.
As she tore through the sky at nearly 800 hundred knots, she picked up another radio transmission from Buckly, ["Buckley AFB to Raptor, SAR helicopters are on route. Until they arrive, stay on station and perform any rescues as needed. Over."]
["Wilco Buckley, over."] Just ahead of her, she saw a glint that must be Boxer two. As she got closer, she started to see the extent of the damage to the Alligator. The canopy had a long crack down its length, part of the right-wing was torn off, and most of the aft section was gone. The pilot probably didn't know how bad the damage was; otherwise, he'd have punched out when he stabilized his fighter. It was a testament to Boeing and Grumman's engineers that the Alligator was still in the air.
She pulled up on his left side and radioed, ["Boxer two, are you absolutely sure you want to attempt a landing? The only thing keeping you in the air is whatever black magic the engineers did. Over."]
The pilot seemed to glance in her direction, although she couldn't tell due to the tinted visor ["I know part of my right wing is gone, but if the aft of my aircraft is mostly attached, I should be fine. Over."]
["Boxer two, you're not seeing what I'm looking at, most of your aft section is gone, and there's a four-foot chunk taken out of your ventral fuselage. You still have your stabilizers, but that's all that's left. I advise bailing. Over."] She saw Boxer two glance at his control panel, then shake his head. For a moment, she was afraid that he would stubbornly attempt to land his plane.
["Fine, Boxer two punching out."] The pilot reached down and pulled up on a handle. A split second later, he was propelled through the canopy and away from the aircraft. Miraculously the Alligator kept going; she watched it glide effortlessly through the air, as rock steady as if it were under its own power. Those engineers definitely made some pact with the devil to make that plane.
Then she glanced around for the parachute and Boxer two.
But there wasn't a chute. ["Shit!"] She desperately looked around for the pilot. He had to be somewhere, anywhere.
Buckley asked, ["Raptor, is there a good chute? Over."]
She replied, panic creeping into her tone, ["No chute, I repeat no chu-"] she spotted the pilot. He was yanking on his emergency parachute cord, but it wasn't working either. Without thinking, she dove after the tumbling pilot.
She pushed her engines hard to catch up to him and cut them before she slammed into him. The pilot managed to stop his tumble and saw her diving after him. She heard Buckley trying to talk with her over the radio, but she ignored it.
The pilot desperately reached out with his hand, clawing at the air; she reached out, and after a couple tries, she managed to grasp his arm and pull him closer. She glanced at her altitude and speed, ["Ahhhhh, shiiiit."]
3k ft
433 kn
She toggled her speed brakes and started to pull up.
2k ft
348 kn
She deployed her drogue chute; the sudden jerk of it deploying nearly loosened the pilot's iron grip on her.
1k ft
207 kn
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
She could make out the tops of trees now; this would be close. Too close. She rolled over, trying to shield the pilot. If this was her last act as a hero, she'd make sure the pilot lived.
650 ft
180 kn
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
She braced for impact.
200 ft
87 kn
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
She could barely make out the pilots' terrified screams as they hurtled into the tree line. There was a snapping sound as her right wing was sheared off. Then her left was broken in half. Then the drogue chute was torn away.
35ft
20kn
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWWWWAAAA* COLLISION
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWWWWAAAA* COLLISION
She felt a bone-crushing impact as they hit a tree. The padding in the suite took most of the force but hitting a tree at nearly twenty miles an hour still hurt like hell. They fell the rest of the way to the ground.
0 ft
0 kn
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWWWWAAAA* COLLISION
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWWWWAAAA* COLLISION
She could barely make out Buckley over the system alarm, ["Raptor, do you copy? Over?"] She pawed at her helmet, trying to make the alarm stop.
*BWOOP* STALL
*WOOP WOOP* PULL UP
*BWWWWAAAA* COLLISION
*BWOO-*
She managed to get the alarm to stop, and she heard Buckley say ["Raptor, do you copy? Over."]
She managed to say, ["Raptor here, we're more or less okay. Over."]
There was an audible sigh of relief from the air traffic controller ["Thank god, what's your position? Over."]
She didn't have the strength to sit up. Something heavy was on top of her preventing her from doing so anyways ["Somewhere on the ground, we had a rough landing, but Boxer and I are alright. Over."]
She realized that the pilot was still clinging to her, even though they were on the ground; his deathlike grip was squeezing the life from her. ["Hey, you, Boxer two, you alright?"]
The pilot came back to Earth and hurriedly let go of her, nodded, and said, ["I-I think so, yeah."]
Claire tried to sit up but stopped when her back and ribs flared with pain, ["Good to hear you're fine."]
The pilot made his way over to her, ["You okay?"]
["I've been better."] In truth, as the adrenaline subsided, her chest bloomed with pain. ["I've been a lot better."]
The pilot had taken off his helmet, looking concerned, ["Is there anything I can do to help?"] She saw short blond hair and oddly familiar facial features. Had she seen him somewhere before?
Claire shook her head, ["Not really, just make sure that if I black out, I don't die."] She was worried less about dying and more about what would happen to Jonathan if she died.
The pilot nodded, ["Yeah, yeah, I can do that."] He took a seat on a rock next to her. And after a few minutes, he asked, ["So umm, if you don't mind me asking, but um, what's your name?"]
["Claire."] she didn't feel like trying to carry on a conversation, especially since it hurt to breathe.
["Nice name. I'm Emile, by the way."] Emile was trying to be friendly and probably also trying to keep her awake. However, the pain was doing plenty for that. ["So umm, Claire, do you umm, do you do this kind of thing often?"]
["What? Save people from certain death or crash into a forest?"] asked Claire.
["Both?"] replied Emile.
Claire answered, ["The saving people, yes, the crashing part, no."]
Emile was silent for the rest of the time they waited for the SAR helicopter. Due to the forest, the medics had to repel down long ropes. While one was checking over Emile, the other two came to her, ["Are you hurt?"]
She replied ["Yes, mostly my back and ribs. I can still feel my fingers and toes, though."]
One medic nodded, ["good,"] the medic reached down and slowly pulled her helmet off. ["Quick question, is Mickey mouse a cat or a dog?"]
What kind of question was that? ["He's a mouse."]
The other medic was hooking up a stretcher to two of the ropes. The two medics carefully lifted her onto the stretcher and hoisted her up. As she got closer to the helicopter, the thunderous thumping of the helicopter became deafening, and the rotor wash was causing the stretcher to sway back and forth. So much so that she was becoming nauseous.
But eventually, the crew managed to haul her up into the helicopter, followed by the three medics and Emile. The helicopter started moving off. And a few minutes later, they landed at Buckley Air Force Base.
She was offloaded onto a gurney and wheeled to their hospital.
A few x-rays later, the Doctor announced, [Congratulations, nothing broken. Just a lot of bruised bones. You'll be tender for a while but should be back on your feet by tomorrow."]
They gave her an injection of nano-machines to speed up the healing process, and they wheeled her into one of the wards to stay the night.
Okay, that's a wrap. I noticed that in the "American Hero" Claire didn't have all that many opportunities to do hero things so I want to make up for that in this story. Also, I have unfortunately not been able to write as much of this story as I would have liked to (thanks other stories for demanding my creative attention). One is still kinda in the works right now and is actually not fanfiction, so that's fun. The other, "The Force that Binds" has been bouncing around in my head going "Write me! WRITE ME!"
Also, happy late halloween everyone! Y'all watch any scary movies? Cause. I did.
Well, it's not really a "scary movie" and more of a "thriller." It's called Ravenous, and I highly suggest watching it at least once. Also, Victoria 3 dropped, and well, yeah.
Also something I notice that doesn't get brought up alot by, well, everyone. Is just how ridiculously strong Izuku is for a 15 year old. Even without his quirk he's apparently able to haul around heavy pieces of trash, and in like 9-10 months he moved at least around 500-1000 tons of trash from that beach.
And like, these weren't little pieces of trash. Oh no.
This little string bean of a kid is hauling around cars and shit. Then of course he's out there giving this 560 pound dude piggy back rides. So like, I'm pretty sure that without his quirk he could body most pro wrestlers.
With his quirk, at a minimum of 30-40% of One for All, he could probably level a small mountain no problem.
Which in my opinion just makes All for One way too op. Since he has tanked All Might's hits.
The dude that can level a mountain range if he felt like wasn't able to so much as knock All for One out, much less break his bones.
Terrifying.
Onto the boring usual trite, This story is also loosely based off of other fanfictions that I have read. Any persons or events that mirror reality or another story are completely coincidental. I promise that I've put in effort to make this story original. If anyone wants to see any specific quirks or have any ideas about quirks, they would like to see in the story, let me know and I'll see about adding them. If anyone would like to beta read this story just shoot me a message, I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism.
As always, stay safe, be kind, and quick question,
What weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of gold?
While a pound is a pound, and they should weigh the same,
The feathers technically weigh more, because gold uses a different measuring standard. Look it up. I ain't lying.