Rumi and the other class members shivered on one of the end lines of a soccer field. The others were grumbling about how much they hated this exercise, the FitnessGram pacer test. Jacky had warned her that, apparently, this was one of the worst things America had ever come up with.
Their instructor, a fruity man who was about as thick as a sapling, bounced forward, ["GOOD MORNING EVERYONE!"]
["He is far too cheery"] mumbled one person. Rumi couldn't agree more. It should be a crime to be awake before 6.
["ALRIGHT! LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!"] The man tapped something on his phone, and the loudspeakers for the press box blared.
["THE FITNESSGRAM PACER TEST IS A MULTISTAGE AEROBIC CAPACITY TEST THAT PROGRESSIVELY GETS MORE DIFFICULT AS IT CONTINUES."]
Rumi did not have a good feeling about this "exercise."
["THE 20-METER PACER TEST WILL BEGIN IN 30 SECONDS. LINE UP AT THE START."]
Looking across the field, it was rather apparent that they would be running much farther than 20 meters.
["THE RUNNING SPEED STARTS SLOWLY, BUT GETS FASTER EACH MINUTE AFTER YOU HEAR THIS SIGNAL"] *BLLWWWOOOOPPPWWWW* ["A SINGLE LAP SHOULD BE COMPLETED EACH TIME YOU HEAR THIS SOUND."] *PIIINNNGG*
Okay, this doesn't sound too bad. It's just running laps, right?
["REMEMBER TO RUN IN A STRAIGHT LINE, AND RUN AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. THE SECOND TIME YOU FAIL TO COMPLETE A LAP BEFORE THE SOUND, YOUR TEST IS OVER. THE TEST WILL BEGIN ON THE WORD START."]
Rumi rolled her shoulders, then crouched into a runner's start. She was going to absolutely crush this test. There was no way in hell she'd ever accept anything less.
["ON YOUR MARK, GET READY, START."]
Rumi took off, launching herself far ahead of the others; within a few moments, she'd reached the far side of the field. Looking back, she saw that the faster members of her class had just passed the penalty line.
"Oh yeah, this is gonna be a piece of cake," she stretched her legs as the rest of her classmates trotted across the line.
*PIIINNNGG*
She kicked off, leaping forward, almost flying down the field's length. Again she reached the far end long before anyone else did. After two more laps, a couple of her classmates were finished and stumbled off the field to sit in the stands.
Another couple of laps and even more of the class were out. By lap fifteen, only two others beside Rumi were left. By now, her sprint across the field had slowed a little; constantly stopping and starting was taking its toll.
By lap 20, she was the only one left. Sweat beaded on her brow and rolled down her back as she caught her breath. Only to hear the *PIIINNNGG* and take off again. Lap forty-three was the first time she couldn't cross the end line in time. She used her hands to stop and spin herself around as she came to the line, then kicked off from the ground.
She let her inner rabbit take over and used her legs to jump across the field. Rumi bounded across the line, turned around, and took off again when she heard the *PIIINNNGG*
Lap sixty-two was when she failed. Just barely too. She'd have crossed the line in time if she'd been one second faster. She supposed that sixty-two lengths of a soccer field in a nearly dead sprint wasn't that bad of a result. She hadn't beaten the test, but she definitely broke the record. There was no way she couldn't have.
["AMAZING JOB MRS. USAGIYAMA! IF THAT ISN'T A NEW RECORD, I'LL EAT MY OWN SHOES!"] god, this guy is loud.
She put her hands on her hips and fought to catch her breath. She hadn't had to run that fast in years; it felt good to let loose like that. ["ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, LET'S MOVE ON TO THE NEXT PART OF THE TEST!"] 'Beg your fucking pardon?'
Everyone gathered down on the field again, this time in rows, and laid flat on the ground. ["WE'LL NOW BEGIN THE PUSH-UP SECTION. READY? BEGIN"]
["DOWN. UP. ONE"]
["DOWN. UP. TWO"]
["DOWN. UP. THREE"]
For someone who just ran six kilometers in seven minutes, she didn't do too bad on the push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and the five-mile run. She managed to get top scores on all tests.
By the time they'd finished all the tests, it was time for breakfast. Today it was pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns, and a fruit of your choice. Usually, she only had a small breakfast, but today, along with everyone else in her class, she wolfed down every last crumb, and a few of them, Rumi included, were hungrily eyeing other people's plates when they'd finished their own.
Then they were off to their first class of the day. Police etiquette. The course boiled down to "don't be a dick," which Rumi understood but sometimes found hard to implement. During one scenario the instructor gave, one that included someone else playing the role of a "belligerent Karen," she'd yelled at the actor.
The actor was so upset by what she said they quit on the spot and ran crying out of the room.
Needless to say, she failed that scenario.
Then they went outside, and they did PT. Which wouldn't have been terrible.
Except they'd done the equivalent of a workout this morning, and it was hotter than satan's ass crack outside. She thought Japan got hot during the summer, but no, Texas just had one up the rest of the world. It was barely even summertime, yet it was already 41 degrees outside!
And many of her classmates just nodded when she complained about the heat and then said ["And can you believe it's only gonna get hotter?"] At first, she thought they were joking, but nope, the next time she checked the weather forecast, it was supposed to get up to 46 next week!
She had no idea how these people could even stand to live here!
After PT was over, they headed back inside, and after a brief shower, they went to the firing range. She wasn't fond of guns, not even the little toy ones. They were too loud. Far too loud. Even with earplugs in and noise canceling over the ear protection, she heard the reports of not just her own pistol but all of the others. It wasn't deafening, but by the time range time was over, her ears hurt.
Finally, they did what she thought was her favorite part of this whole training course. Hand-to-hand combat training. Here she could vent all her frustration and relax some. It was especially effective if her sparring partner was that asshole in her class.
She remembered the first time they were paired up. He had this disgusting grin on his face. After the first punch, that grin had disappeared, and subsequent pairings started with him going pale and all but begging for mercy.
Today must have been her lucky day because the instructor had paired them up. As she stepped into the ring with him, he nervously asked, ["Can you, um, go easy on me this time? I'm not sure my body can handle it."]
In reply, Rumi pounded one glove fist into another, ["Nope."]
Jonathan grumbled as he swatted his alarm clock. Opening his eyes, he tried not to think about what happened yesterday. But his body decided that even if he didn't want to think about it, he was definitely going to feel it. Next to him, sprawled out on top of the covers, was Claire. She'd pushed him away in her sleep, nearly pushing him off the bed.
But he didn't blame her; he'd have probably done the same. The electricity on the Island was still not fully restored, so they had to spend the night without any AC. The muggy Pacific air caused him to sweat like a pig while he slept, which left a silhouette of him on the sheets.
["It's too hot for anything,"] muttered Jonathan as he got out of bed. After showering and putting on his hero outfit, he shook Claire awake. ["Come on, we gotta go."]
["Why?"] mumbled Claire.
["We've got work to do,"] said Jonathan.
["Why do we gotta do it, though?"] asked Claire as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
["Because."] replied Jonathan.
Claire groaned, stood, and after a brief shower, got dressed, and they left the hotel. They took one of the buses to the spire. Before they entered, a man in casual business attire approached them ["Oh! Hello! You are the ones who came and rescued my employees, right?"]
He looked at the man carefully, ["You'll have to remind me who you are."]
The man smiled, ["Right, um, I work for Kole Industries. They said you fought off some mercenaries. That was you, correct?"]
["Oh yeah, those guys. The ones with the lightning pistol,"] said Jonathan.
["Yes, those are the ones. I just wanted to thank you both for helping them. And the company has authorized me to give you a free item for the trouble."] They were entering morally gray waters now. Typically they were allowed to take gifts from people as thank you. However, these gifts must follow specific guidelines, or they can't legally accept them.
First, the gift had to have been for something they did while on the job, so getting a gift for rescuing someone or stopping a robbery is perfectly fine. But getting something for being somewhere or to do something, well, that was just a bribe. The Department of Justice has been cracking down on corruption in the past few decades. Not that they've been able to root out much corruption in the government itself, but they'd shown no mercy to anyone else and have, in the past, made sure that any officer caught taking a bribe was not only fired but arrested.
Second, the gift had to be something that the department they were a part of could use or something that would help in the line of duty. So getting gifted money was a-okay, as long as he gave it to the Tarrant County sheriff's department. Getting an item from Kole Industries could be fine if he and the other Sheriffs were allowed to use it in the field.
Third, whatever he was gifted had to be legal to own in the US, which should have been obvious. But he'd known a few officers who'd gotten fired for accepting explosives or drugs. One particular officer of note had been fired for accepting a free "one-time pass" from a prostitute. And while prostitution was no longer entirely illegal, the DOJ decided that it was best for that officer to "voluntarily step down."
In his particular situation, the only rules that applied to him would be the second and third. He doubted Kole Industries would give him anything like explosives or some ludicrous weapon like the Tesla pistol. Still, he should nevertheless be cautious about what they gave him and check with his boss before accepting it.
["Thank you, we can come by later; at the moment, we have some work to get done,"] said Jonathan
The Kole Industries representative nodded, ["Certainly, you can come by anytime."] The man turned and strutted away.
["That was nice,"] commented Claire.
Jonathan nodded ["Let's just hope they have something normal."]
They entered the spire, showed the now heavily armed security guards their identification, and rode a series of elevators to the top. And after showing their identification to another pair of armed security guards, they met with Dr. David Shield.
With him was a young girl roughly the same age as Midoriya, possibly his daughter. ["Ah, Ranger, it's good you came."] Dr. Shield held out his hand for a handshake.
Jonathan shook it, and when offered, so did Claire. ["I just wish it was under better circumstances,"] Jonathan took his helmet off and set it on a table. ["We just need to go over a few things with you."]
["Certainly, certainly."] Dr. Shield nodded. He shooed his daughter away and then asked ["How can I help you?"]
Claire took out a pad of paper and a pen from one of the many pockets lining her flight suit. ["First, what did you do when you first noticed the Mercenaries landing on the island?"] asked Jonathan.
["I didn't actually notice until they'd taken hostages in the ballroom. But when we did notice, um, Nicky and I, we did what we could to lock down the spire to keep them from coming up. But well, you saw what happened after."] Nicky had said the same thing. Which made him wonder how the Mercenaries even managed to land on the Island in the first place.
["Do you know why you weren't aware of their presence before then?"] asked Jonathan.
["Well,"] David thought for a moment and shrugged, ["The proximity alarms didn't go off."]
["Why?"] asked Claire.
["Why didn't they go off?"] David again thought for a moment, his expression grim, ["I, I don't know. They just didn't"] he walked over to a computer and tapped a few keys, ["That- that's impossible."]
["Dr. Shield?"] asked Jonathan.
["The Radar, Sonar, and many of the security measures were shut off just before the Mercenaries showed up? But that should be impossible."] Dr. Shield tapped a few more keys.
["Why should it be impossible?"] asked Claire.
Dr. Shield looked up from the computer ["Because the only person that can shut any of these systems off is me. The controls are biometrically locked to only accept commands from me and me alone."]
["Could they have somehow bypassed that?"] asked Jonathan.
Dr. Shield shook his head, ["You don't understand. The systems are physically locked away; I'm the only one that can access those systems. And even then, you need my own personal passcode to do anything with those systems."]
["So what you're saying is, you're the only person who could have deactivated those systems and allowed the mercenaries onto the island?"] asked Jonathan.
Dr. Shield seemed to understand his quiet implication, ["I wasn't the one who did it though! I was here the entire time with Nicky! We were going over the technical documents of the hard light projectors!"]
Jonathan nodded ["Alright, can you think of anyone who could have found a way to access these systems?"]
Dr. Shield shook his head, ["No. Nobody."]
["Okay, as for the device that the mercenaries took, what did it do?"] asked Jonathan.
["Why does it matter? It's useless now; you and your team saw to that."] said Dr. Shields, a look of contempt replacing his earlier panic.
Jonathan held up a hand, ["I understand, Dr."]
["Do you? Because that was my life's work! Do you just go around destroying what people spent a majority of their life creating?"] asked Dr. Shield.
["I try not to make it a habit, but sometimes circumstances don't exactly let us do things the gentle way,"] explained Jonathan.
Dr. Shield huffed and crossed his arms ["Well, it doesn't matter now. The person I was making this for died a while ago."]
So it was a piece of gear meant for someone? Probably someone close to Dr. Shield. Or someone Dr. Shield was close to once upon a time. ["I'm sorry for your loss. But we need to know what the device was meant to do and who it was meant for. It can help us in our investigation."]
Dr. Shield slumped, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. ["It was a quirk enhancement device."]
That explains why that mercenary was able to rip apart the helicopters and turn them into a razor-blade tornado. And he could think of a few people who'd love to get their hands on something like that. ["And who was it meant for? If you don't mind me asking."]
["I do mind, actually, it's personal to both me and the man who died."] Replied Dr. Shield.
Jonathan nodded, ["I understand. Thank you, Dr. Shield. I think we've gotten all the information we need from you."]
Dr. Shield nodded, ["If I can help in any way, please, all you have to do is ask."]
["Thank you,"] said Jonathan. Claire finished her last note and slid the paper and pen back into her pocket.
Izuku stared at the ceiling of the hospital bed, bored out of his mind. Fortunately, the Doctor said they'd discharge him by tonight after ensuring all his injuries had properly healed. Mostly they were scrapes, cuts, bruises, and overstrained muscles. They weren't major injuries, thank god, but they still hurt. The Doctor wanted to keep him overnight just in case they'd missed anything.
Uraraka and the others had visited him earlier today, but they had left to head back to Japan. Uraraka did stay a little longer, and they talked for a bit. She'd seen a video someone had posted on one of the hero watch apps. The video was the final grapple with the villain before they fell.
But Uraraka had left too, and his mom was packing their things back at their hotel room. Which just left him here. Alone. With nothing to do.
At least, until a blond American girl showed up. ["Hi!"] She walked into his room, a big smile on her face, ["I heard you were one of the ones that took down those mercenaries."]
Izuku blushed, ["Um, well, I was, umm, I helped, but um, I um, I didn't really, uh, do much?"]
["Nonsense, you took down their boss! And you managed to escape the spire and find help! Without you, those mercenaries would have probably done something awful to my Dad."] Izuku cocked his head to the side. Her Dad? Who was her Dad?
Noticing his confusion, she added, ["Oh, I'm Melissa, by the way, Melissa Shield."]
Shield? As in, ["Your dad David Shield!?"]
Melissa nodded, ["Yup, the best inventor in the world!"]
["That's cool!"] He'd heard a lot about David Shield. And for a brief time, he wanted to be just like him. But he quickly realized that he didn't have the creativity to be an inventor.
["It can be,"] agreed Melissa, ["But anyways, I just wanted to stop by and say thank you for stopping them from taking my Dad's project. He's a bit angry that it was destroyed, but I think it shouldn't exist anyways."]
Izuku was puzzled about that, ["Why?"]
["Well, it was a potentially dangerous invention. It had the ability, at least from what little I know about it, to enhance someone's quirk."] explained Melissa.
["Oh."] said Izuku; that seemed like a helpful invention. ["Why do you think it should not exist?"]
Melissa shrugged, ["Simple, if the wrong person were to get it, they could cause unimaginable damage."]
"Wow, she's grown up. I haven't seen little Mel in years." All Might suddenly appeared in the corner of the room, gazing at Melissa with fondness.
["I don't know why he made it, not exactly, but I know who he made it for, but well, they're gone. So it's probably best it's gone forever."] Melissa sighed.
["Who did he make it for?"] asked Izuku.
["Uhh, well, it's kind of a secret,"] said Melissa.
["Oh, okay,"] replied Izuku.
"It was probably for me." Spoke All Might. "Perhaps he thought that he could help me regain my former strength. But that wouldn't have worked."
["Well, I'll get going. It was nice to meet you, uh-"] he realized he never told her his name.
["Midoriya, Midoriya Izuku,"] said Izuku. Bowing slightly.
["Pleasure to meet you, Midoriya. If you need anything like support equipment, just give us a call; I'll even personally make it for you!"] Melissa pulled a card from her purse and pushed it into his hand, ["That's my number."] Then she stood and walked to the door. Before leaving, she turned back and said ["Get better soon!"]
Izuku just sat there with Melissa's card in his hands. She'd make him support equipment? Well, if she was half the inventor that her father was, any equipment she made would be unparalleled to anything the support studio at UA could manufacture. He'd hang onto the card, just in case.
Claire and Jonathan entered the Waffle House, ["Ah, hello, are you here to pick up that man you left with us?"]
Jonathan nodded, [Yes."]
["Very well, sir, right this way,"] the manager guided them into the back of the restaurant, where there was an area with a cell.
["Do all Waffle houses have these?"] asked Claire.
["No, not all, but most do these days. With the abundance of powers, the corporation thought it would be prudent to make sure that there was at least one cell in all of our new buildings. Just in case."] the manager had a smile the entire time he was talking.
No way was this legal; they weren't peacekeepers, so keeping someone in a jail cell seems like it would violate a few constitutional rights. The manager unlocked the cell, and Jonathan hauled the handcuffed man to his feet and drug him out.
They loaded the man into a car and drove to one of the Island's police stations where the remaining mercenaries they'd managed to arrest, at least those not hospitalized, were being kept. The man was then taken to one of the interrogation rooms and left to stew for several minutes.
["I don't know about this, we've got our own senior interrogator that can ask him whatever questions you have,"] said the station chief.
["Thank you for the offer, but we can handle it."] said, Jonathan. Claire noticed that the mercenary was looking around nervously. Obviously, the pressure was getting to him. He was bound to break under any interrogation. But she also knew Jonathan could be surprisingly persuasive when dealing with perps.
She'd only seen him interrogate a handful of people, but each time he'd managed to worm the truth out of them. His methods were also more unique than other people's, but that's not why they talked.
Jonathan slipped his helmet on and walked out of the observation room. A moment later, he was in the interrogation room. The perp jolted as the door slammed shut. Without looking at the perp, Jonathan walked around the table and sat in the chair across from the perp.
He didn't ask questions or make any statements; in fact, Jonathan just sat there, staring at the perp. Though all the perp could see was the armored faceplate and the reflective lenses of Jonathan's helmet.
["I ain't saying nothing, so you can just leave."] said the man after a moment.
Jonathan didn't reply; he didn't even move. He just sat there menacingly.
After a moment, the mercenary spoke again, ["Look, man, I don't know nothing. I'm just a low-level merc who was just doing as he was told."]
Silence.
["I swear I don't know anything!"] said the mercenary.
The mercenary said, ["Look, all I know is that we were after some device. I and everyone else I was with was supposed to be the distraction force while the boss and his team retrieved the device."]
Silence.
["I swear that's all I know!"] The mercenary tried to look at anything but Jonathan.
["Okay, okay! The device we were after was some sort of quirk-enhancing thingy, and we were gonna be paid real big to get it. Like really big. More money than I've ever had. My cut was supposed to be like a million dollars, man; I was gonna retire after this job!"] The mercenary seemed to calm down a little as he spoke.
Jonathan leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. ["But I swear that's all I know. I don't know who hired us or why. But you can probably find out at the main base! I know where it is; I can show you on a map!"]
Jonathan stood, patted the man on the shoulder, and left the room without a word.
The chief whistles appreciatively, ["I think that's the most eager perp we've had in a while."]
Jonathan came back into the interrogation room with a map of Earth. After the mercenary pointed to the rough location of where the mercenary's main base was, he left again without a word.
The door to the observation room opened ["Pack your bags, Claire, we're going to Bolivia."]
This was really starting to become infuriating. That meddlesome man was butting into his yet again. Not that he could derail them even if he tried; his plans were so deep and took many turns and twists that sometimes, even he lost track of the sheer scope of its design.
Last time Ranger had been his pawn and danced to his tune, but this time he feared that the man had managed to escape his web and had started to cut away little pieces of his operations. He drummed his finger against his throne. "How goes the progress of your project?"
"We've managed to isolate the part of her DNA that governs her quirk; all we need to do now is manage to extract and replicate the effect." The gangster spoke calmly, "But, some pro-heroes are catching onto what we're doing. One notable agency, Nighteye, has been snooping around the city. I don't think they know what we've been doing, but they know we've been operating in the area."
This could become a problem if not dealt with; having a hero agency so close to this operation could be detrimental to his plans. If necessary, he could abandon Shie Hassaikai and live with the loss of a potential weapon that could, if used appropriately, render any pro-hero useless. He had no lack of individuals who had strength. However, the pro-heroes remained a difficult obstacle to overcome if they still had their quirks.
Then there was the leader of the meta-liberation front. He wasn't a threat to his rule but would be an annoyance. If he could take him out of the picture, he'd be able to increase the size of his army considerably.
Currently, he has around fifteen, maybe sixteen thousand followers ready. Still, if he managed to absorb the meta-liberation amount, it would swell to a hundred thousand. But those are just his immediate numbers. If all his plans come to fruition, then he will have amassed an army capable of conquering Japan.
"Very good, continue your work; I will deal with the pro-heroes," this would be an excellent experience for Tomura. All he needs to do is ensure that the information about the quirk destruction bullets remains in their possession. Everything else is secondary.
Walking into the branch location that Kole Industries had set up on i-Island, Jonathan couldn't help but marvel at how many unique guns were on display. Everything from pistols the size of a clenched fist to rifles longer than his arm. The collection was so diverse it made gun shows look tame. And he'd been to some pretty fantastical gun shows.
A man at the front counter looked up from the computer, ["Welcome! You must be Ranger and Raptor! Please, have a look around, and if you find something that interests you, just bring it to me, and I'll get you taken care of. Floors one through five are civilian grade, while floors six and seven are reserved for law enforcement and military personnel."]
Jonathan had a feeling that he'd find something ludicrous on floors six and seven. So, for now, he's gonna stick to the first five floors. Claire stuck close to him, her eyes wandering over pistols and rifles alike. Before long, she asked, ["Hey, what do you suggest I get?"]
["Probably a pistol of some kind,"] replied Jonathan. Since she was mostly flying, she didn't need anything she couldn't holster. So a pistol would really be her only option. They had quite a variety of handguns, big and small. She hefted each one he handed her; many were just run-of-the-mill pistols with no special features.
Another man from the back approached, ["Are you finding everything okay?"]
Claire shrugged, ["I, I'm looking for a pistol. But, well, none have stood out to me. They all just kind of, well, average? And my current pistol gets the job done."]
["I see, do you have the pistol in question?"] asked the man. Claire nodded and pulled the pistol out of its holster, handing it to the man with the barrel facing away from the both of them. ["Ah yes, a Colt Service chambered in 9mm parabellum. I am a fan of these. Reliable, robust, rugged. Perfect for duty work. But this is a civilian model, so it's prone to leaking gas when fired, which makes it less effective than its military counterpart. Come, I have a better selection that you can replace this with."]
The man returned the pistol and led them to the sixth floor. There were significantly fewer guns on display, but from what Jonathan could tell, these were of much higher quality.
There were racks of traditional revolvers, slide-action pistols, and some experimental pistols that looked like they jumped straight out of a sci-fi. The man approached a stand and plucked a sizeable bulky pistol from it.
["This is the Kole 2311 LVLP,"] said the man. It didn't even look remotely like any pistol he'd ever seen. ["LVLP stands for Low Voltage Laser Pistol. Just as its name suggests, it can fire a concentrated laser beam. The gyroscope ensures the beam remains fixed on the target when firing."]
Claire shook her head, ["No, I'm looking for something more conventional and smaller."]
The man nodded, ["Then, perhaps this one."] He retrieved a smaller rounded handgun. ["The Fyver auto chambered in .45 auto."] He handed the pistol to Claire, who held it experimentally.
["It's light,"] she commented.
["Yes, it's made of an alloy, although what I don't know. But it has a few features. It also has a gyroscope and a flywheel to counteract any recoil created when firing, and it has the capacity to use programmable guided rounds."] The man retrieved a box of ammunition. ["If you would like to try it out, we can visit the firing range after we've picked out a gun for the gentlemen."]
The man turned to Jonathan ["Well, I primarily use this,"] he patted his revolver ["But I also use a carbine. I'm pretty happy with both and don't really need any replacement."]
["Then may I interest you in a precision rifle? We have a few interesting pieces if you would like to take a look."] Jonathan considered it for a moment.
He didn't need a precision rifle, but having one would be nice. Not that he'd have many chances to use it, but there was no harm in having one if needed. ["Okay, show me what you've got."]
The man smiled and took them up to the seventh floor. This floor had almost every kind of long gun you could think of. The man took them to the very back, where the precision rifles were kept. ["This,"] the man hefted a rifle from a rack ["Is the Remington M-207 chambered in 308 win. Bolt action, but can easily be swapped out with a semi-automatic system. It has a quarter-sized grouping from a range of half a mile."]
Jonathan whistled appreciatively, ["Impressive."] He hefted it on his shoulder, ["comfortable to hold too."] But then, another rifle caught his eye. It was in a glass display case. It was roughly the same size as he was. Next to it was a plaque that read "Napoleon."
["What's that one?"] asked Jonathan, merely out of curiosity.
The man grinned, ["You have a good eye."] He took the Remington M-207 from Jonathan, replacing it on the rack. The man walked over to the case, pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the glass case ["This is the Daher FAM Napoleon."]
The man gestured for Jonathan to pick it up, and boy, it had some heft to it. The base of the Napoleon was rounded, with a spiral pattern inlaid on the bolt and the barrel. ["Weighing approximately 16 kilograms or 35 pounds, the Napoleon was designed to be the replacement of the famed PGM Hécate II in 2089, but Daher went bankrupt designing and testing the Napoleon. This is one of the only working Napoleons in existence, although it is not an original piece anymore."]
Jonathan looked at the man questioningly, ["How so?"]
["We have made several improvements that make it easier to use; the muzzle break on the end now reduces the recoil by half, the scope is compatible with most targeting computers, and the barrel has been replaced. The original was rifled; this is smoothbore."] The man pointed to each part as he spoke.
["Smoothbore?"] asked Jonathan. Wasn't this supposed to be a precision rifle?
["Yes, smoothbore. The ammunition the Napoleon fired was unique and can be rather expensive."] the man turned to the case and pulled out three boxes, ["The first,"] he pulled out a round the size of his palm, ["is a .70 high explosive round that can be pre-programmed to detonate at a predetermined height or range."]
.70?!
This wasn't a precision rifle!
This was a goddamned cannon!
The man pulled out a second round the same size as the first ["The second is an armor-piercing round."] The next round the man presented was something Jonathan had rarely ever seen before and never had the chance to use. ["Finally, the third is a tungsten core armor piercing fin stabilized discarding sabot round. These rounds can be assisted by magnetic coils surrounding the barrel under the casing. Needless to say, any of these will be fatal to a normal person. The high explosive round is devastating to anyone in the open or behind any cover, while the sabot round can disable armored vehicles 2000 yards away."]
Jonathan couldn't help but feel like he needed to have the Napoleon. It ticked every box his gun nut brain loved. Big, powerful, rare. But convincing the chief that he needed a .70 anti-material railgun was another thing. ["Can I, um, make a quick call?"]
The man nodded, ["Certainly, sir."] Jonathan carefully put the Napoleon back in its case and called his boss.
After a couple of rings, she picked up, ["Charlie. Kinda busy, make it fast."]
["Yes, ma'am. Um, have you read my report about last night yet?"] asked Jonathan. He and Claire had summarized what happened last night after they finished interrogating the mercenary and submitted it to the FBI, Tarrant County Sheriff's office, and the Denver Air Patrol office.
["Uhh, no, haven't gotten to it yet, why?"] Charlie wasn't in the greatest of moods. He explained the situation as quickly as possible, including the free firearms from Kole Industries. The line was quiet for a few seconds before Charlie spoke ["Ranger, if you don't secure that firearm, I will have your head on a fucking platter."] There was a beep as Charlie hung up.
Well, that was settled. He was now the proud owner of one of the most dangerous small arms in the world. Fun.
Alright, and that's a wrap.
First things first, I wanted to upgrade both the Ranger's and Raptor's arsenal during this story; this is the first round of upgrades. Raptors pistol is basically a tech pistol from Cyberpunk, and Rangers Napoleon is actually a completely original concept.
I've also decided that both Shields wouldn't just reveal that they knew All Might's condition, mostly because they don't know Izuku is All Might's successor. And without All Might being able to tell them, they obviously wouldn't know about Izuku. At least for right now.
More of All for One's plan is starting to be revealed now, and little by little, it will actually start becoming very obvious what he's going to do. I've decided to really break from cannon on how All for One achieves his master goal of conquering Japan. And I feel like this version of his plan seems not only more likely to work but more within his character.
From this point on, characters will start dying. But not in a Game of Thrones kind of way where everyone dies. I will do my best to make each and every death a meaningful one.
But that doesn't mean the main characters are safe, either.
Anyways,
do not own My Hero Academia and Probably never will; Rangers armor is based on the Riot Gear from Fallout New Vegas, and I also do not own that.
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 accidental. If anyone wants to see any specific quirks or has any ideas about quirks they would like to see in the story, let me know, and I'll see about adding them.
If y'all want to leave a review about what you like or hate, feel free to do so, that's why the little review button is there. Feel free to Pm me as well; I'm always happy to hear criticism, and suggestions or if y'all just want to chat for a bit.
Have I said that I hate my job?
Well, I do.
All I do is crush soda cans all day!
Day in
Day out
It's soda pressing!