Hey everyone! I'm back with another chapter! I don't have much to say here, so I'll cut it off so we can get right in it!
Disclaimer: I don't own -man or BNHA, all rights go to their respective owners.
Chapter Twelve: The Start of a Hard Battle
Vatican City, four days before U.A.'s culture festival...
The Vatican, a symbol of peace and prosperity in the Christian world. Centuries ago, it served as humanity's protector during the long-forgotten Holy War against the Millennium Earl. The records of that war, along with those who fought in it, were all long gone. Besides Allen Walker, there was no one left who was privy to that information. The cube of innocence, which was now little more than a oddity for tourists, had lost its power and now lay dormant within one of the city's many safes. The Crown Clown being the exception, God's crystal would never again be used by humanity. That was its fate. However, even though the power of innocence was all but forgotten, the Vatican was by no means weak. In fact, when considering the usage of quirks, one might consider this organization to be the most powerful in the world. Of course, few people outside of its holy walls knew of this fact. This was simply because that, while the Vatican did have military strength, it lacked enemies that required the usage of said power. And so, the Vatican's presence was frequently ignored by the world's governments. They were, in every sense of the term, a slumbering dragon. If not for the sudden appearance of a certain young exorcist, this powerhouse would've most likely faded away into the texts of history. Serving no other purpose than to fill some notes in a textbook's margins. But, sadly, fate had other plans. And now this resting monster was slowly starting to open its eyes...
"Pope John! Please, wait a moment!" a small priest yelled as the head of the Catholic faith hurried past him. Vatican City was currently bustling with activity as hundreds of scribes, scholars, officials, and Swiss guards began to take action. The hectic response and worried, yet determined, looks on most of these men and women's faces spoke volumes. They were all here on the order of one man, and that man was standing right in front of him.
"Gregory, if you wouldn't mind, can you please keep up?" the man in question, Pope John, said as he flipped through a packet of documents. "The devil is quick on his feet. If we are to react accordingly, we need to be faster." At his words, the priest nodded and started to jog. "C'mon, my friend, you can do better than that! You're over twenty years younger than me and yet your cheeks are already flushed. Studying the good word is important, but you must remember, sloth is also a sin."
"Yes, yes, I'll be sure to put that on my schedule," Father Gregory wheezed out as he greedily gulped down a breath of air. "I can't believe that this man is over fifty," he thought as he stared at Pope John. The pontiff's fiery red hair flowed like a river as he effortlessly weaved through the Vatican's many winding hallways and paths. While being in the fall of his life, his body didn't look a day over thirty. In fact, at times, many thought he was even younger than that. Whether this miracle was because of a quirk or God's grace was anyone's guess. But, considering what this man had accomplished during his time as pope, that strange, almost eternal, look to him couldn't have been more fitting. His full name was Pope Johnathan Gioventù, after all. Normally, such a person would've drawn the attention of anyone who saw him. However, what the pontiff was doing at present was far more unusual. In fact, one might even call it insane.
"Your Holiness Johnathan!" a Swiss guard said as he gave the pontiff an empowering salute.
"There's no need for that, my friend," Pope John responded as he placed a hand on the guard's shoulder. "Have they arrived?" he asked. Immediately, the soldier nodded before opening the large door which lay in front of them. A rush of cool air washed over the two men's bodies as they made their way into the Vatican's famous audience hall. Before them stood the pope's throne, as well as a veritable army of ranking priests and other important figures in the church. All of these people were in the middle of an uncountable number of rushed and stressful discussions, most of which having to do with the announcement Pope John made earlier that day.
"Damn," Father Gregory thought as he scratched the back of his head, "I always hate this part." After taking a moment to step back and clear his throat, the small priest stood up as tall as he could and began to raise his voice. "Attention!" he called out in a voice which could put jet engines to shame. "His Holiness Pope John has arrived! The council will begin shortly! Please head to your assigned seats!" with that, the pontiff smiled, gave the small priest a nod, and headed over to his throne. Father Gregory, with his responsibility as the opener of the day's meeting fulfilled, simply made his way to one of the back rows. Once Pope John was nice and situated, and the standard prayer was completed, the congregation's voice erupted like that of a choir.
"Silence!" Pope John yelled as he raised his hand in the air. Instantly, this gesture brought a much needed sense of calm to this uneasy scene. "This sacred place is not meant for the whining of children. If you have a question, you must ask it in an orderly fashion. Doing so in this rude manner simply brings shame to our creator." With that out of the way, the council could finally begin in earnest. In the usual fashion, one of the cardinals slowly stood up to speak, and after being granted permission by His Holiness, asked the question that was on everyone's mind.
"Pope John, forgive me if I sound insolent, know that I mean you no disrespect, but why are you mobilizing our forces?!" the cardinal asked as his eyebrows narrowed. Indeed, that was the topic of the day's meeting. Out of the blue, Pope John used his power to consolidate the Vatican's military strength. Currently, all over the world, soldiers affiliated with the faith were beginning to move towards Rome. The reason for this urgent action was, for the most part, completely unknown to everyone except the pontiff himself. This confusion led to chaos, and that chaos eventually led to the tension which now plagued the meeting they were all in.
"Sir," another cardinal spoke up, "if I may be so bold, me and my subordinates are also at a loss as to why you've made this decision. Such action being made by a religious organization in this day and age is... unusual... to say the least. Even though they mostly ignore us, those who hold power in today's world will cast their gaze upon us if we continue down this path. With that said, calling our forces here on nothing but a whim is simply—"
"Preposterous?" Pope John cut the cardinal off. "Hmph," he chuckled before turning to address the rest of the congregation, "do you all think I made this decision without a reason?!" he called out as he locked gazes with one of the questioning officials. When nobody responded, the man at the precipice of the Catholic faith simply frowned and stood up. "My friends and colleagues! Can anyone here tell me why we, a church, still have a military force in today's world?!" he called out. Yet again, he was met with silence. At this ignorance the pontiff only smiled and began to tap his index finger against his temple. "Truth be told, when I was first elected to this position, I couldn't fathom the reason. Much less the logic behind it. We Christians have a duty to steer this world towards peace! And yet, all because of a warning from one of my many predecessors, we continue to recruit and grow our military!" as he spoke, Pope John reached into his robes and quickly pulled out a small document. "I'm sure you all know what this is!" he said. "This, my friends, is a copy of a handwritten warning from Pope Leo XIII! In it, he details his posthumous order to avoid the dismantling of our forces! One of the great mysteries of my position is why, why did he write this letter? The reason, I'm sad to say, is lost to us. The documents which might've shed some light on Pope Leo's words have all but vanished to the annals of time! However, even though we don't know what had my predecessor so worried, we followed his order for hundreds of years!"
"Your Holiness," a priest spoke up, "while that may be true. The Vatican's military is little more than a figurehead force at this point. Sure, it's strong, but our organization hasn't sent men out to battle for centuries! Plus, heeding a centuries-old warning isn't exactly a proper cause to justify mobilizing our forces." What the father said was correct. Even if they were attacked, that didn't mean they had the right to send out their military. Even though the Vatican was technically its own nation, such an independent action would simply be the work of a madman. However, much to the father's shock, Pope John did indeed have a proper reason for his order.
"You want a reason?" he started. "Fine, I'll give you one, and it isn't Pope Leo's warning. What I was trying to say before is that it's because of my predecessor's letter that we're even prepared to make a move today. For, just this morning, I received an official notice from Linda Weinsbach of the Santi Marescialli." The second that sentence left his lips a deathly silence filled the conference hall. All it took was two words to quiet a room full of confused officials.
"Santi Marescialli," Father Gregory thought as he nervously bit his thumb, "are those monsters finally on the move?" he pondered out loud. Similar sentiments were spreading throughout the congregation, as well as an acute sense of shock. Those who were relatively new to the Vatican's proceedings could only look on in confusion as their elders suddenly started to sweat bullets.
"Father Gregory," one such curious soul spoke up, "what is this Santi Marescialli that everyone keeps talking about?" he asked. In response to his junior's question, the short priest could only frown and pinch the bridge of his nose.
"The Santi Marescialli..." he started as he looked up at the ceiling. "In English, they're known as the Holy Marshals. There are four seats, each representing a part of Christ upon the True Cross. The mind, the right and left arms, and finally, the legs. Each one heads a specific section of the Vatican's military force. And, as consequence, are also the faith's most valuable assets. Linda Weinsbach, the one His Holiness just mentioned, is a member of the Santi Marescialli. She's responsible for the Vatican's intelligence and espionage branch."
"Oh, is that all?" the young soul said as he nervously scratched his cheek. "I'm sorry, it's just that, with how everyone was talking, I was getting the impression that the Santi Marescialli was a group of demons!" he laughed. However, Father Gregory did not return the gesture.
"A group of demons?" the father started. "Heh, you know what, that description isn't too bad," he continued. Before his curious friend had the chance to ask him what he meant, Father Gregory responded with a question of his own. "Tell me, why do you think the Vatican's military is still so strong in this day and age?"
"What?" the man said as he hastily came up with an answer. "Well I'd assume its because they only hire the strongest fighters for God's army." His answer was good, but it sounded like it came right off a script. His view was correct, but it wasn't accurate. Thankfully, as someone who'd served by His Holiness' side for years, Father Gregory was more than capable to clear up that misconception.
"Spoken like a true student," he started, "but that isn't exactly surprising. The Vatican's military hasn't actually done anything for centuries, after all, so you wouldn't know what it's like."
"Sir?" the man spoke up, raising an eyebrow as he did.
"Think about it for a second, man. Our military is stronger than ever, and it's all because of one simple reason: quirks." Yet again, the curious soul raised a confused eyebrow. In response, Father Gregory could only sigh. "Every day scientists around the world are studying to figure out the cause of the mysterious powers we all call quirks. However, be there a scientific reason for their existence or not, one cannot deny that they are steeped in the supernatural. In fact, one might even go so far as to call them gifts from God. Now, imagine what would happen if an individual with an unnaturally-strong faith emerges with an equally-powerful quirk. What, in their position, do you'd think they'd do?"
"Well... if their faith is as strong as you claim, they'd naturally want to join the service. However, if these individuals really do see their powers as gifts from God, then I'd doubt they'd be content with simply joining the priesthood. In that case... the Vatican's military would seem like the most suitable option. Even though they'd likely never see a battlefield, they'd still technically be allowed to train and use their quirks. If they don't want to become a hero, that would be the path I'd think most of these individuals would take. Man, I've got to say I don't envy them, climbing the ladder in that situation would be next to impos—" the man stopped.
"Ah, did you finally get it?" Father Gregory asked as the man's face started to pale. "It's as you think. The Vatican's military is filled with individuals with quirks powerful enough to be considered gifts from God. With no battlefield to prove themselves on, the only way they can climb through the ranks is over their comrades' bodies. Due to their faith, most don't have the option to simply leave and become heroes. And so these men and women train themselves, day and night, to get stronger for their creator."
"That sounds like..." the curious soul trailed off.
"It's a battle royal," Father Gregory finished his sentence as a foreboding shadow covered his eyes. "The Vatican's soldiers can only improve their position if they become stronger than their peers. Now, imagine if somebody actually managed to make it to the top of that bloody pyramid. What sort of people do you think those select individuals are?"
"People like that... they can't be human," the man said as Father Gregory laughed.
"It's as you said before, those three are nothing less than demons. I wouldn't be surprised if they are the strongest group of people that currently walk this Earth. For lack of a better term, those who gain the rank of Holy Marshal are invincible monsters. They're the Vatican's trump card. Our last resort. Although, we've never actually had to use them. Which is probably why the world's governments frequently ignore us. The strongest weapon is one that is used, after all." If the Holy Marshals were to take the stage now, how would the world react? He shuddered at the thought.
"Wait..." the curious soul spoke up again. "I understand now why they're so important, but didn't you say there were four seats?"
"Yeah," Father Gregory mumbled as he turned his attention back to Pope John, "that I did. There are four positions amongst the Holy Marshals, but only three are currently filled. And it'll probably remain that way for quite some time," he said. "And it's all thanks to that man's standards," he thought as he watched His Holiness return to his seat. "Even though Pope John is technically quirkless, I can safely argue that he perhaps has the most terrifying power of them all." There were many useful skills floating around the world today, but the pontiff's ability put them all to shame. That was because, even though he had no powers, there was no one on this planet who had a better eye for people. To join the ranks of the Santi Marescialli, one couldn't just be strong, they also had to catch the gaze of that man. That was the true reason why the marshals were all such monsters. "Hmph," Father Gregory scoffed, "we may be down a seat, but that doesn't matter," the priest thought as he stared at the cross which hung around his neck, "those three are more than enough."
While U.A. High was a serious academic institution, today, that ideal was thrown straight out the window. This was because that the time for the school's famous culture festival had arrived. At present, the grounds were more like a carnival, bustling with activity from every slight nook and cranny. Nowhere was this extreme energy felt more prevalently than in class 1-A's booth. With the aid of their resident musical talent, Kyoka, they had effectively transformed the auditorium into a giant dance floor. Of course, there were a few hiccups along the way. Midoriya, for some unknown reason, arrived extremely late. In truth, the boy had been occupied with a tough battle against a villain, Gentle Criminal, who had planned to raid the festival. After an uncountable number of blows and close calls, All Might's successor had come out victorious. While Yuga and a few of his classmates were curious as to why he was so injured, Midoriya brushed these worries off and simply claimed that he had suffered a nasty fall earlier that morning. With the confusion of his absence cleared, their class was finally able to begin their long-awaited performance. "Wow," Midoriya thought as he smoothly danced to the right side of the stage, "I never knew that Bakugo was so good with the drums." The boy had heard his rival playing during their rehearsals, but this was something else. Kaminari, Momo, and Tokoyami were also doing amazingly well. The party was going off without a hitch, and for a second, Midoriya felt a spring of pride start to rise up within him.
"You've improved since yesterday," Uraraka told him as she effortlessly danced up to her classmate's left side. In response, Midoriya blushed slightly and nodded his head.
"I was up practicing pretty late last night," the boy said as he twirled his feet around in a beautiful spiral. Uraraka copied him perfectly, and soon the two were dancing in sync. Their entire class soon did the same, creating a storm of energy that washed over their audience. Smiles and laughter could be heard and seen all over the auditorium, creating a pleasing and welcoming aura that filled everyone's souls. It truly was, in every sense of the word, a party. However, Midoriya wasn't paying attention to any of this. Instead, his focus was on the little girl in the back who was sat upon his senior Mirio's shoulders. That child, Eri, for the first time since he'd met her, had a smile on her face that shined like the sun. It brightened the entire room, and brought a tear to his eye.
"Midoriya," Uraraka spoke, jolting the boy out of his trance, "are you okay?" she asked. Midoriya only laughed at her words. For him, this day couldn't get any better. His humorous mood spread to his classmates like wildfire, and soon everyone was caught in a gale of joyous euphoria. For the average passerby, it would look like class 1-A was at the top of the world. However, that sentiment couldn't be further from the truth. For, on this occasion that symbolized comradery and unity, this class was anything but unified. Of course, the members of 1-A knew this fact perfectly well. However, the reality of the situation wouldn't hit them until later that night. They were all too busy riding the high of their success to realize what they had done. As there was still a member of the class who wasn't present. A member of the class who was pushed aside like trash on the road. He, thankfully, was also participating in U.A.'s festival, but, unlike the rest of the student body, he was entertaining his customers in his own, unique way.
Meanwhile, on the other end of campus...
A chorus of gleeful cries and giggles reverberated throughout the main square as the crowd tried their best to absorb what was before them. Children rushed in and out of the mass of bodies with handfuls of candy and simple toys lining their pockets. Those who had smartphones were quick to take them out and start recording, eager to post it on social media or send to their families. A few heroes had even stopped by to take in the show. "Woah," one such hero said as she watched an uncountable number of juggling balls fly through the air. In one mighty leap, the person who was responsible for entertaining them flipped onto his hands. Much to everyone's amazement, this individual proceeded to continue juggling using only his legs. It was an act of acrobatics that could only be performed by a professional. In fact, several of the onlookers believed that, somehow, a member of the circus had managed to sneak into U.A.'s student body. And while that sentiment wasn't entirely wrong, the truth of the matter was that their mysterious carnie really was a student. If it wasn't for the makeup and bizarre costume the boy was wearing, there was no doubt that his audience would've recognized him in a handful of seconds.
"The crowd's gotten bigger," Allen thought as he returned his feet to the ground, catching the falling juggling balls as he did so. After sticking the landing, he was immediately met with a thundering round of applause. When the rumbling sound of laughter was at its highest, the young exorcist proceeded to pass his comically-large top hat to the nearest festivalgoer. That person proceeded to throw a few yen into the hat, and then handed it to their neighbor. This chain continued for a minute or two, until the cap was practically overflowing with yen. "Thank you, thank you!" he called out as he waved his hand through the air. To add a little bit of extra flair, Allen proceeded to jump up onto a nearby tightrope he had set up earlier. Once he was properly balanced, the boy took out a few hidden confetti-poppers and blasted them directly into the air. The colorful paper floated into the clear sky above, giving the entire act a heartwarming feeling of whimsy. Once he'd emptied those, he then took out a basket of candy from one of his clown suit's deep pockets and spread it throughout the audience.
"Mr. Clown! Throw some over here!" a young man from a nearby preschool called out from atop a nearby crate. Of course, Allen humored him, and tossed the boy an extra large helping of sweets. Once that was over and done with, he would bow, empty his cap, and then wait for the next group. During one of these few quiet moments, Allen walked over to a small tent, which contained all of his show's materials, and hastily opened its cloth door.
"I still can't believe the school actually got me all of this," he thought as he picked up a fresh batch of confetti-poppers. Thanks to Momo's clever budgeting, there was a tidy sum of 1-A's festival fund leftover for him to play with. Of course, nobody actually gave him permission to use them, but since the school was going to pocket any non-used money anyway, it wasn't too hard to find a workaround.
"Ruff!" Tim called out as he quickly rushed to the boy's side. He, like his owner, was completely dressed in an adorable carnie outfit. In more ways than one, it was similar to the costume Mana's dog wore before he died. It was a look that Allen was familiar with, and one that brought him a pleasing sense of nostalgia.
"Heh," Allen chortled when he noticed the colorful bone that was trapped between Tim's jaws, "it looks like you've already helped yourself, haven't you?" he said as he playfully scratched the animal's ears. The little bastard looked a little too pleased to be tearing through his stock, but Allen simply sighed and laughed it off. "To pay off your debt, what do you say to helping me during my next performance?" he asked the mutt, who simply barked happily in response. Before Allen could get back on his feet, Tim quickly rushed behind him and jumped up onto his shoulders. "Hey, watch it with the licking, you'll ruin my makeup!" he yelled as he patted the dog's head. If a stranger was watching him now, they'd find it hard to believe that this was the same boy who, just days earlier, was standing in the middle of a charred crime scene. However, being able to bounce back from such jarring sights was normal for him. After all, if he couldn't do something as simple as that, he would've never survived serving as an exorcist. But, even though it was normal for him, others probably wouldn't see it that way. In fact, one might say that they'd find his happy attitude creepy. This was the reason why, when Metal Meister finally found where Allen was working, he couldn't help but frown when he laid eyes on the boy.
"I've got to admit, this isn't what I expected to see today," the corrupt hero said from outside the tent. His words shocked Allen, causing him to jump up in shock.
"Metal Meister?!" he yelped as he tripped and fell out into the courtyard. "W-why are you here?!"
"Why am I here?" the man scoffed. "What a stupid question. I came because I wanted to check up on you. Or did you forget what happened a handful of days ago?" At his words, Allen could only flinch and nervously scratch the back of his neck. "For Christ's sake, kid, you need to get some self-awareness. You were standing in the middle of a sea of charred corpses just the other day, and now you're here literally clowning about like nothing happened." In a small way, Metal Meister was actually impressed, but more so than that, he was disgusted. However, since he wasn't exactly moral himself, he didn't lecture the boy on it. "I caught some of your act on the way over here, your little show is the talk of the festival," he said.
"Thanks for the compliment," Allen responded as he and Tim started to make their way back towards the stage. "But, knowing you, I doubt you came all this way just to cheer me on. So, tell me, what's happened?" he asked.
"If you're referring to the investigation, I'm sorry to say that we've got nothing. Whoever this guy is, he's smart, and his quirk doesn't exactly leave evidence for us to follow. He's definitely not your run of the mill killer, that's for damn sure," Metal Meister grumbled as his eyebrows narrowed. He was clearly frustrated, but, to be perfectly honest, Allen didn't have any mercy for the man.
"Please tell me you didn't come all this way just to say that you've made zero progress." He wasn't normally one to be stuck up on things like this, but when such a heinous criminal was on the loose, he just couldn't help himself. The Black Order found innocence at a faster rate than this. And yet, as impatient as he was, all the hero could do was shake his head.
"Like I said before, the main reason I came here was to check on you. I thought you'd be down in the dumps, I certainly didn't expect... this," he said as he overdramatically waved his finger at Allen's costume. The boy rolled his eyes.
"If you're going to judge me, I'd prefer it if you do it from one of the stands. Nobody likes a sad clown, after all." Yet again, Metal Meister scoffed.
"How in the world is this boy still in his teens? I swear, sometimes it feels like I'm talking to a hundred-year-old man," he thought as he bit his lip. "Listen, just do me a favor and give me a moment. Even though I don't have any new information, there's still a few things I need to talk to you about. It'll only take a few minutes, and then you can get back to whatever it is you're doing, deal?" he asked.
"I don't have a problem with talking to you as long as we do it quickly," Allen spoke as he nervously scratched his forehead. "I'm a one-man act, so I don't exactly have a lot of time to spare." When he said that, Metal Meister grinned and nodded.
"It's just a little bit of paperwork that our friend the police lieutenant wants you to fill out. If everything goes smoothly, you'll be back here in no time," the hero said as he started to make his way towards the school's main building.
"Got it, just let me grab my hat and we can go." As a matter of professionalism, Allen always left his clown hat out after a performance for any last-minute tips. It was still perched upon the same stool from his last act. And, as expected, was a bit heavier than before. "Looks like a few generous souls paid me a visit!" the boy thought as he slowly poured out the cap's contents. Most of it was small coins, a few bills, and a couple of candy wrappers from the children. However, the last thing that fell out was an oddity, to say the least. "Huh?" he mumbled as his eyes went wide.
"What?" Metal Meister said. "Is something wrong, kid?" he asked.
"This is—" Allen started as he immediately picked up the strange object. It was covered in ash and dust, however, he'd recognize that design anywhere. With speed that would impress even Iida, Allen quickly cleaned all of the grime off the item. And, once he was done, his heart stopped. His skin paled to the point that it was noticeable even under his white makeup, and, for a second, it felt like the world had ground to a halt. "This... this is a golem..." he whispered as he shakily held the ancient device up to the light. The fact that it was a golem was strange, however, that wasn't what made his blood run cold. No... the reason for that was because he knew who this particular golem belonged to. Before Metal Meister could ask him what was going on, Allen jumped back up onto the tightrope above and started to scan over the city below. It took him only moments before he found the particular building he was looking for. Normally, in such a cluttered area, finding one specific alleyway from this distance would be next to impossible. Sadly, for this particular building, it was unbelievably easy. That was because the church he was looking for was currently ablaze, sending a trail of smoke spiraling into the sky like a horrid, dark serpent.
Author's Note
Well thankfully that didn't take three months to write! So yeah, I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. We're starting to get into one of the main BNHA arcs, so things will start picking up from here plot-wise. Sorry if you guys have been wanting more of the main BNHA or crew stuff. I've been trying to write this in a way that isn't just a copy and paste of BNHA arcs, so it'll be awhile for me to get my bearings. That said, this story ain't going to go off the rails (as badly) like my other ones, so don't worry about that. Instead, just sit back (maybe write a review :) ) and enjoy the rest of your day! And I'll see you guys on the next chapter of A Tale of Two Endlings!
Chapter Thirteen: A Game of Conmen
P.S. Thanks for the ratings and reviews! They really help!
