Patrick Baldwin was falling.
Why?
He could not see. The world was dark for what seemed to be a very long time.
What's going on?
A glimpse of a memory existed within his mind, or within what he perceived to be his
mind.
He remembered screams. They did not know who they belonged to, but they filled his
ears and mind. They filled his heart. Not with guilt, not with fear—but with pain.
A hollow taste spread over his tongue. He could feel the air rushing past his body as
he fell. He still could not see.
He felt the splash of water, cold and merciless. It rushed into his mouth, washing the
taste away. It pushed up his nose and flung itself down into his throat until his lungs were
filled with it.
Patrick did not panic.
Drown, he heard a thick voice spit in his ear. He could feel the familiar grip on his
throat. His hands…they would haunt him forever, even now. Drown, you damn
shithead—drown!
He lifted his own hands up to his mouth. As soon as his fingers came by his tongue,
he tasted something familiar. Something that brought him comfort.
Patrick Baldwin tasted blood.
A smile formed on his lips as the taste spread over him. It rolled down his throat and
it seemed to form him.
His eyes shot open, just as he had drowned.
Patrick Baldwin was reborn from the ashes of his own death—from the depths of his
own demise.
What the hell? He thought, and he swam to the surface.
The three students were overcome with shock.
"Did…did you see that, too?" Midoriya's voice rattled.
"Mhmm," Mineta' nodded, "that person just appeared out of nowhere. Do you think
he is a villain as well?"
"We can't know for sure," Tsuyu chimed in.
"He can't be," Midoriya shook his head, "he didn't appear at the same time as the
others. The Villains are already overwhelming us, and they all seemed to appear at once.
This…this is too delayed to be an organised attack. I doubt he's on their side."
"He can't be a student either," Tsusy said, "he didn't have a uniform."
"Right."
"Then what the hell is he?" Mineta grimaced.
"I don't know," the water splashed around as Midoriya pushed forward, "but he's not
coming up to the surface. He fell in quite some time ago, I'm starting to worry. I think we
shou—"
A hand shot out of the water, clutching Midoriya's wrist. Midoriya tried to pull back,
but the grip was simply too strong. He looked down and saw deep scars dug into the man's
forearm. He tried to read them and noticed that they etched out the word U D O N.
"What the—"
"Midoriya, are you okay?" Tsuyu called from behind him.
Midoriya then pulled the man up out of the water. He splashed to his feet, shaking his
head, making it so the red-haired cornrows threw water everywhere. His eyes were framed by
square glasses. Midoriya stepped back from him, sensing quite a strong presence from him.
"Who are you?"
"Huh?" Patrick groaned, shaking his head as he turned to look at Midoriya, "what did
you say?"
He was slamming the butt of his hand against his own skull, as if something was
wrong with it and he was trying to beat something out of it."
"Your voice is scratching my damn brain."
"Oh…I…I'm sor—"
"That's better," he nodded as he rolled his shoulders. Midoriya took a proper look at
him. He had no shirt on, and his entire body was a battlefield of scars. Wherever he looked,
Midoriya spotted cuts and deep—now-healed—gashes over his well-toned body, "what were
you saying?"
"What…what is your name…who are you?"
Patrick narrowed his eyes. He wasn't stupid to give his identity away so easily. He
looked directly at Midoriya and right away he noticed signs of distress.
Something's wrong here.
He sniffed at the air and he could feel it. The smell if iron—the smell of blood—was
thick, and it fanned out and came for him. Patrick looked past the boy standing before him.
He saw girl of quite odd proportions, and a boy, purple and small, with circles slapped on top
of his head.
"Is this some sort of convention?" Patrick asked.
"We are undergoing training," Midoriya responded.
"What sort of training puts you this much on edge? Your muscles are all tight, and
your brows are furrowed so hard that they're nearly knitted together."
"I…"
"We are under attack," Tsuyu stepped forward, trying to back up Midoriya with her
confidence. "We are students," she said, "I can see you are not from here. You don't look
Japanese at all…and neither do you look our age. Are you a villain?"
Patrick flinched at the word.
"Depends who you ask, really," Patrick smiled, and he grinned some more once he
noticed that his answer had put the boy and girl even more on edge. "I'm not," he shook his
head, "I just take matters into my own hands. Who is attacking you students? Are they
villains? Is that why you asked me if I am one?"
The two did not answer. They did not need to. They gave him all that he needed to
know anyway. He turned away from them, letting the scent of blood guide him.
If his hunch was right, the ones dying were innocent students. He didn't understand
where he was, or what exactly was going on—but one thing was for certain, he was still
himself, and that only meant one thing: where there was injustice, he needed to skin alive
those that brought it forth.
He stepped out of the water and was stopped by the boy calling after him.
"Where…where are you going?"
"To see things for myself," he said.
"Why?"
"To deliver justice."
"You…are you a hero?"
"What's with these questions, kid?" he snapped, gritting his teeth at Midoriya as he
turned back towards him, "what's with your obsession with labels? Can't you see how
reductionist they are? Labels just divide people. The only constant label that exists is that of
Justice. Heroes, Villains—those are arbitrary titles that mask reality. It matters not—it should
not matte. People claiming to be heroes can be horrible, treacherous creatures, and some
villains can simply be misunderstood. Tell me, you two—what sort of people are you?"
He pointed his finger at them. That's the first time he noticed it. The odd object
attached to his wrist. He looked at it with great interest. It looked like a watch, yet was much
larger, much more bizarre. The colour was of a washed green, and the band of it was thick
and clung to his arm as if teeth were sunk into his flesh.
"What is that?" Midoriya asked.
"This?" he pointed at the watch, "I don't know myself."
"No, not that—the scars on you."
"Which ones, kid?"
"All of them," Midoriya gulped, "but…but especially those on your forearms. Those
saying U D O N."
Patrick took a deep breath. The name brought him back to a time of comfort. Now,
that place seemed distant—as if a world away.
"A reminder," he said, "they all are—but these ones," and then he brought two of his
fingers and ran them across the letters U D O N etched on his forearm, "these are my
grounding to reality. These tell me that the world can be a beautiful place, yet at the same
time, that it's much easier for it to be a cruel one. Things are taken away from us, by force,
especially when we are powerless, by those that have power and like to abuse it."
"I…" Midoriya stepped back.
"I exist as the unbiased voice of the powerless," Patrick affirmed, "I will bring the
wrath of the oppressed down onto the oppressors. I will make them all pay, no matter what it
takes—I will make everyone standing in my way pay."
"You're a…isn't that just being a vigilante?"
"I told you, kiddo, I do not care for labels. I do not care what people think. At the end
of the day, opinions do not change lives, and neither do they save them. Actions do. And I…I
am a man of action."
Patrick didn't even get a chance to turn around and to walk away. He heard the
whistle of projectiles flying towards him. His ears twitched, perking up as he calculated their
trajectory. He ducked and then rolled towards the side, spinning around in the middle of the
roll to face the attackers.
"Quite foolish to come directly to me," he said.
"Hey," one of the upcoming villains was shouting towards his comrades, "who the
hell is this guy, he wasn't on the pamphlet?"
"How would I know?"
"You see," Patrick stood up, "when you bask in the shadows for so long, it is easy to
blend in with the darkness, to disappear and not be known. Surprise is the greatest strength
one can possess. If one learns to manipulate it at their will, they are indomitable."
"Shut up, you scarred freak," one of the villains roared, reaching his hand forward.
Icicles shot out of his arm, flying towards him.
"Slower than bullets," Patrick smirked, barely sweating in order to dodge them,
"you'll never stand a chance."
Patrick ducked underneath the incoming ice lances and dashed forward. There were
two more criminals alongside the one shooting ice out of his hands, and Patrick kept track of
all of them as he came forward. He moved fast. He was incredibly agile and strong. He got
into melee range right away, catching a grasp of both of the Ice-Man's hands and headbutting
him straight into the middle of his face, busting his nose and sending blood splattering
everywhere.
That's when he felt it. An incredible heat coming towards him. He glimpsed at it, and
saw the throat of one of the villains inflate, as if an explosion was just about to escape it.
Patrick moved quickly, using the Ice Man's body as a shield, putting it between him and the
blast.
As soon as the fire came, the screams of the villain erupted out of his throat as he
burned alive. Patrick felt him squirm under his grip as he pushed forward through the flame.
The smell of scorched flesh and viscera was strong, but Patrick was stronger. He shoved the
burning villain forward, slamming him into his ally.
"Look what you've done," Patrick spat, dashing forward, "you just killed your
friend."
"I…I didn't…"
"How dare you take that kill away from me?"
Before he knew it, Patrick had dashed behind him, grabbing onto his throat as it
started to expand, filling up with fire.
"How about you keep that down?" he asked, and twisted, breaking the guy's neck and
letting the fire die out with his corpse. "Kiddos," Patrick shouted at Midoriya, Tsuyu and
Mineta, all stuck in the shallow pond still. They were frozen and horrified. Not only by
Patrick's ability to take on such weaklings without using any powers, but also by his
incredibly grotesque way of handling them, "tell me," he shouted, to keep their attention, "is
this world filled with powers?"
"This world?" Midoriya asked.
"Yes—this world of yours," Patrick said, "it has no semblance to my own. But leave
all that, answer me before I handle this last guy."
The last villain was levitating with his eyes closed. His legs were crossed and his
hands came together, forming some sort of symbol. He seemed to be loading up some large
attack.
"Yes," Midoriya answered, "we live in a world of quirks. Most people…most people
manifest some sort of power. Do…do you not have one?"
"I manifested them on my own," Patrick said, "the world had never blessed me with
anything in my entire life, why would it start now?"
Although, he looked down at his right wrist, looking at the strange watch he could not
detach from himself, this thing seems to like me. I wonder what it—
He heard the whistle of something like plasma loading up. By the time he looked up,
it was too late to dodge. The centre of the villain's hands were loading up a purple beam that
came directly for him. As if by instinct, Patrick lifted his right arm, blocking the beam with
his watch. To his surprise, it took the brunt of the initial attack, yet the beam kept on coming,
firing into his watch that seemed to be consuming its energy.
Patrick felt a shift. A noise cam on, together with a green glow. Something moved,
something he couldn't see, and the watch tightened on his wrist.
"What the—"
His body started to harden. He felt his strength increasing as he started to crystalise
into light turquoise form.
"What is go—"
He felt a reflux rise up within his stomach. It burned right through his intestines, right
through his muscles and flesh and gushed on out, sizzling and pussing up as the crystals
formed around the rest of him. His jaw melted as the acid shot up his stomach, melting his
throat, melting his bone. He could not speak any longer, and a splash of acid splashed into his
eyes, melting them off right away.
Patrick was blinded—but still, he could sense. He could sense that his body was all
crystal—hard and strong, and the crystal was in a constant battle with the acid, trying to
recover where the acid was eating into him.
As if that wasn't enough, he felt a limb growing out of him—an extra leg, entwining
with his original left leg, forming an extra hold against the ground. Even his hands stretched
out, his fingers lengthening into sharp, crystalline claws.
What…what's happening to me?
There was no fear. There was no such thing. There was only curiosity—curiosity that
was empowered by his new-found strength.
The purple beam fired right into his arm, melting the crystal, but his regenerative
powers were incredible. Patrick could not feel the pain, so he pushed forward. At first, he
walked slowly, but then, as he noticed he had it in his new body to do so, he sprinted forward.
He struggled for a few strides due to the extra leg that was dragging by him. But
quickly enough, Patrick learned the best way to put his weight down on it. The ground
cracked beneath his weight as powered forward.
The villain floated some more, increasing the output of his attack, yet his purple beam
split as it hit against the crystals. It spread and shot in multiple directions, growing thicker as
Patrick got in melee range.
Patrick did not hesitate. He slashed his crystals claws horizontally, cutting the man's
body in half. His intestines exploded with gas and blood and splattered all over the floor. He
spilled out onto the floor as he failed to float.
Patrick then stepped over him, turning his blind head towards the kids watching him.
He could not speak to them. But his presence was alone just then to communicate exactly
who he was and what he stood for.
If he was able to see, he would have seen the disgust on their faces. He would have
seen the fear and the anger, and all those things would be a reflection of his own emotions.
Yet he didn't aim such feelings at himself, unlike the rest of the world. He focused them
towards the wrongdoers.
If the price for peace was the weight of the world's disgust and hatred on his
shoulders, Patrick was more than happy to take it all on.
He turned away and let his senses guide him towards the rest of the villains. As he
pranced forward, corrosive bile splashed out of his exposed stomach and his
constantly-melting throat and jaw. It hissed as it ate holes into the ground and not before long
he came to a stop, not at his own accord, but because something crashed into him. Something
the weight of an entire building.
It crushed him to a pulp and it had come out of nowhere. His entire body had
disintegrated into millions of shards, sprinkled all over the ground.
Odd, he thought to himself, I seem to still be here…is this the same…is this the same
to that time I was drowning? No…I…I am still alive. I'm not going anywhere.
His hands started to recrystallize, coming back together and forming into his body. As
soon as he felt in control of them once more, he dug his sharp claws into the body that
pressed against him. He tore through the flesh as he pierced right through. He could feel the
intestines sloshing around as he cut through them and blood cascaded down onto his
still-regenerating body.
The parts that fell against his stomach were dissolved right away from the strength of
his stomach acid. He pushed forward until the giant body was sliced in two and the light of
the sun fell over his own grotesque body once more.
He stood up, rolling his shoulders as they built themselves back into place. A rope
lashed towards him, catching onto one of his arm, first, from one side, and then, from another.
He wanted to smirk, yet there was no mouth to do so. Instead, some corrosive bile belched
out of him as he pulled the two ropes together.
The villains flew through the air, crashing into one another above head. The force
with which they crashed into one another was so strong that their heads explode upon contact,
splattering brain matter everywhere. As if that wasn't enough, Patrick craned his neck
upwards and unleashed a vile attack.
Pustulent vile erupted out of his eroded jaw, splashing upwards into the air and hitting
against their corpses. They melted with sizzle and pop as their bodies fell towards the ground,
landing as nothing but hollow carcasses of themselves.
As they landed, the ground undulated like a wave at his feet. Patrick was lifted up into
the edge on the hunched back of said wave, and he sensed around for his attacker's location.
After he spotted him presence, he stretched his hands forward, shooting out trillions of shards
of his sharp diamond crystals. They whizzed through the air and perforated his body. His
accuracy was sharp, and precision even more so.
All the shots landed right in the middle of the forehead, blitzing through his brain and
making a hole that kept on getting bigger and bigger with each new shard entering and
leaving it.
"Oi," one of the villains shouted, noticing the horror that was taking place, "we…we
weren't told of any hero of this sort…this shit is fucked up," he turned around and started to
run.
The other remaining villain did just the same. Patrick stretched out his hands and
unleashed his projectiles at them too. Yet they were quick, much quicker than the others, and
they managed to dodge and dash out of the way, keeping under cover as they ran away.
"OOOOOOOOOI!" they roared, running towards Shigaraki, "OOOOI!"
"Heeeh?" Shigaraki scratched at his neck as he turned towards them, "what the hell is
this?"
He saw them, through the fingers of the hand pressed against his face. They were
running for their lives, fear deep in their eyes.
"YOU DIDN'T TELL US ABOUT HIM!"
"About who?"
"ABOUT BLLRGHH—"
A thick crystal shot through the man's throat, making him gurgle and choke on his
own blood. The man that was running right next to him looked to the side, but that had
slowed him down, giving Patrick, with his two entwined legs and his free one to catch up to
him.
There was pain in the man's eyes as the sharp crystalled claws dug into the sides of
his body. Patrick lifted him up, roaring through his own mangled throat as he sliced the mans
legs off. Blood erupted downwards, coating the entire ground.
The heroes and villains that were there to witness the spectacle stood frozen. They
were mesmerised, and, flipping the same coin, they were overtaken with horror as Patrick
leaned the villain over. He was scream in pain, his hand slapping against Patrick's body.
Patrick had no mercy. He leaned over the man and unleashed a horrifying belch. The
acid threw up all over him, melting his face. You could see his eyes rolling around in their
sockets, and the skin on his face peel back like leather as it began to melt. His teeth and gums
went next, and then the gurgle of his screams as he died.
He thudded to the floor, Patrick shaking himself free of the burden of his body. He
stood tall and proud, and he waited, sensing his surroundings. He knew that there were two
parties before him. One was that of the villains, whilst the other were the heroes.
Which is which? He wondered, yet only for a brief second, for he remembered what
the others have told him. They were just kids—and they were heroes. If these heroes were all
training together, then their fear should be more palpable than that of pure villains.
He could tell them apart now. He leaned towards the villains, feeling more of an
interest out of them than anything else.
I won't ever join your cause, you vile things, he wanted to tell them, but his mouth
would not function, He simply stretched out his arm, ready to fire his bolts at the man with
the most repugnant of auras.
He let the projectiles fly.
"Noo—mu," Shigaraki spoke with deep hatred. He was scratching at his throat with
such fervour that he was tearing his own flesh off.
As he uttered that name, the creature hurled itself forward, taking the brunt of the
attack. The crystals pierced its body, going through it, but the holes covered right up as he
flew through the air.
It smashed its large fists into the ground as it landed, sending slabs flying everywhere
and shooting Patrick into the air.
Agh, he smiled to himself, this one is going to put up some fight, isn't it?
Before he even got time to finish the thought, the creature lurched forward. Its brain
was exposed as it cocked both of it fists back, then shot them forward like canons, slamming
them into Patrick's body. Both of his arms shattered and flew off their sockets. The Nomu
continued its attack, slamming one strong fist through the stomach, ignoring the strong acid
burning its flesh, and healing itself before it ate fully through his hand.
He put a hole through Patrick, and the next fist came for his head, sending it flying off
and into a rock, shattering it to pieces.
"Heh?" Shigaraki scratched some more, "that was all?"
Yet Patrick remained standing. With his arms gone and head just as well, he remained
on his feet. The Nomu panted and then was caught off guard. He did not expect the hands to
grow back so fast. The head was slower, but his conscience was still intact.
He slashed down with the crystal arms, cutting the Nomu's arms and breaking himself
free. He then planted both crystal blades into its abdomen. Patrick jumped upwards, bringing
his crystal legs together, all three of them, and dropkicking the Nomu's chest with such force
that millions of shards perforated it whole, putting a gaping hole in his chest.
But the Nomu did not fall. It simply roared and regrew itself. As its fist came back, he
slammed it forward, but Patrick matched him, and turned the bladed fist into a normal, thick
chunk that thudded right against the Nomu's knuckles. Shards flew everywhere, but so did
the Nomu's cut up flesh together with its blood.
Both of them drew back their other fists, their movements matching as they slammed
their hands forward, hitting knuckle into knuckle, breaking their own arms over and over, and
regenerating just as fast, just before the following punch.
Still, Patrick had his mouth free—his stomach that was sizzling and eager to unleash
his putrefied, corrosive acid on the beast. That's when he retched, continuing to match
punches with the creature, and brought the acid up his own melting throat. He hissed it
forward, splashing it towards the beast.
He noticed that the creature recoiled its head backwards, trying not to let the acid
splash against its exposed brain.
Ah, Patrick hummed, so that's it.
He belched some more, all until the creature leaned down and grabbed Patrick by both
legs. It lifted him up and swung him around overhead, like lasso, a drag of acid flying behind
him and splashing all over, nearly hitting both heroes and villains. The creature then leet go
and Patrick flew through the air, not knowing where he was to land.
The Nomu jumped into the air, coming right after him. Patrick spun himself around
and listened to the howl of the air as the creature approached. He flailed to get his body in the
right position to welcome the Nomu. Their bodies clashed mid air. Patrick switched his arms
to blades once more and he slashed the Nomu's legs off.
They fell, but the creature acted as if that didn't matter at all. In reality—it didn't, it
was going to regrow them anyway. But Patrick continued his onslaught, tearing through the
Nomu's hands and maiming it all together. Then he tried to pierce its brain, but that's where
the creature was most careful and most agile. It knew how to evade every single attack aimed
at its brain. It was almost impossible to hit.
But Patrick did not let up—yet neither did the creature. Its arms regrew and its fist
started to ram into Patrick's body, shooting shards everywhere. At one point, the Nomu
grabbed onto Patrick's crystalline ribcage. Its fingers were sizzling and melting off from the
acid, yet its regeneration was keeping up, and it gave the creature enough strength to start
pulling.
The ribs cracked and the acid gushed. It cracked more and more as Patrick's torso was
being split into two, getting ripped right from his body. All the while, he tried to lash forward
with his hands, but they were simply not getting anywhere.
Realising his hands were useless, he had to switch things up. He knew he wasn't
going to last if he couldn't find a way to smash through the Nomu's brain. That's when he
shifted his weight and attention of his own powers from his upper half to his lower. He
brought his knees upwards, all three of them, and then outstretched his legs, ramming his feet
into his chest.
The Nomu simply leaned backwards, making his kicks slide upwards and towards the
throat. Patrick's ribs cracked and holes appeared in the crystals. He was on the verge of being
broken in two, yet just then, as he pushed his feet against the Nomu's throat, he grew spears
out of his soles, piercing his throat and fixating it in place.
The Nomu roared at the top of his lungs, yet blood gurgled his screams as they started
to fall back down towards the ground. With its range of motion locked, Patrick lifted himself
upwards, letting his torso split, not caring for it. He cocked his arms backward and dug the
sharp crystal claws of his hands deep into his upper shoulders, piercing through the
collarbones and locking him more in place.
Patrick then brought his whole dislocated and melted jaw down over the exposed
brain of the creature.
I got you.
Wet snarls erupted from within his body as his bile rolled around and accumulated,
building up and starting to shoot out of his hanging jaw. It splashed and spread over the brain
of the creature, corroding it right away. It munched it through, and the Nomu started to
screech and shake, convulsing violently as its brain was decaying.
All of its body was slowly losing its strength as Patrick continued to unleash its bile
over its brain. The rest of its skull was starting to pull back and melt as well, and its hands no
longer had the strength to rip Patrick in two.
They slammed into the ground, sending a cloud of dust up in the air as they cracked
the earth itself. The Nomu was nothing more than a splash of blood, twitching and dying as
its brain failed to regenerate.
Patrick stood up.
"Tomura," Kurogiri's voice came from within the swirl of darkness that formed his
body.
"Mmmhhm?" Shigaraki's whole body shook with excitement. There was no way to
see what was beneath the hand that covered his face, but Kurogiri could tell that Shigaraki
was smiling from ear to ear.
It wasn't necessarily a pleasurable smile. It was one of confusion, yet Shigaraki had
never known how to express the proper emotions with the right gestures. That's why…as he
watched his Nomu splattered and defeated, he started to laugh.
As he did, he leaned backwards, reaching both hands for his neck and digging his
sharp nails into it, ripping the flesh off it and scratching away.
"I can't believe this," his cackle died out into his throat, and he continued to speak, as
if without breath, "that damn Nomu was supposed to fend off All Might—but…this punk just
came around and took care of it. OI," Shigaraki roared at the top of his lungs, "who the hell
are you?"
Patrick turned directly towards him. He had some words for him, but his mouth did
not allow him to tell them. He simply raised his hand, just ready to shoot his projectiles again
when he heard a ticking-down noise coming from his body.
Huh?
The noise intensified and a red light seemed to engulf his senses, all until a redness
burst with a flash, covering his body, and taking his powerful form away from him.
"What the—"
"He's just a punk!" Shigaraki dug a nail so deep in his throat, "he's just a fucking
punk!"
"Did I foil your plans?" Patrick smiled, finally able to speak.
"Who are you?"
"I can ask the same thing."
"Tsk," Shigaraki tutted, "don't get cocky with me. You're a nobody."
"You seem pretty frustrated to me to be able to make such a statement."
"Who do you think you are?"
"I am the sole arbiter of genuine justice," Patrick said, gritting his teeth. He reached
his hand forward, clutching his fist over Shigaraki's head. From the distance he was at, it
looked like he squeezed it whole in his grip, "and you are tipping the scales towards the
vile—towards the villainous. You need to be eradicated."
"Heh," Shigaraki grinned, "you've got some cheek to call others vile. Look at the way
these heroes are looking at you," Shigaraki waved to the side.
Patrick's glance was quick and furtive. They were all aghast, their bodies shaking and
terrified of his massacre.
"Is that what you want to accomplish?"
"They're alive, are they not?" Patrick spat, "that's all that matters. That their lives are
not at threat. They can hate me, fear me, spit on me—it matters not. That's what sets me aside
from the likes of you."
"Huh?" Shigaraki's irritation was starting to rise up within him.
"Tomura, please," Kurogiri tried to intervene, "let's calm down. We can retreat and
re-evaluate. His…presence was unknown to us. He was not part of our plan."
"Shut up, Kurogiri," Shigaraki spat, "I want to see what this cocky bastard has to say.
Go on," he then shouted at Patrick, cupping both of his ears forward in an exaggerated
manner, "I am all ears, you red-haired weirdo. What sets us apart?"
"I do not find validation in other's opinions of me," Patrick said, "I've learned to
throw such foolish ideals away long ago. You, and the rest of this world, you all seek such
things. That is vile and corrupt—the heroes and good people are not excused from this, they,
too, seek validation, but most try to do it in good heart. Still, that search is so corrupt that
even some good people fall prey to its dirtiness. That pursuit is so dirty, simply because it
does not allow the soul and mind—it does not allow the person, to live for itself, to abide by
its own happiness and rules of life. They want to appease others, which makes them a false
person. Others change, others are not consistent. Only the self is consistent and true. That is
me," he said, "my selfishness allows me to save this world from the likes of you, because I
know what I am, and what this world needs. I do not let others influence these thoughts, these
actions."
As he spoke, he ran his fingers over the tattoo of Udon. Those bumps on his skin
allowed him to put one foot in front of the other still, to look that vile creature in the eye.
"You talk big," Shigaraki smiled, "but all you did was kill a mindless creature."
"Don't worry," Patrick said, rolling his shoulders just once, "you are next," and he
narrowed his eyes, bolting forwards without a second thought, ready to cleanse the world of
all evil.