Hello everyone! Welcome back to another chapter of A Tale of Two Endlings! Finally got some time to sit down and write, so here it is! Again, I apologize for the usual wait. I'm running a YouTube channel, this, studies, and a book series at the moment so chapters on here take a bit of time. Just an (extremely subtle) excuse for the nearly four month wait sheeeeeesh. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own -man or BNHA, all rights go to their respective owners.


Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Final Door

Amongst the ranks of hardened heroes, one of the most common psychological issues was that of regret. For example, "Why didn't I save that person?" Or, "Was that really all I could do?" For the men and women putting their lives on the line to protect their fellow man, this emotion constantly raged in the background like a wildfire; and, amongst this beset slice of the world, none was more aware of it than Metal Meister.

"Shit," he thought with a frustrated sigh, "I really hoped that I was wrong." He could feel the hostility in the air, Linda didn't want him here, and he knew exactly why. "From one criminal to another, I guess." As a herd of footsteps rapidly approached him, he clenched his fists and readied his quirk. "Let's just get this over with." His personal angst aside, he had a job to do and couldn't afford to fail here at the starting line.

"Are all heroes from Japan this rowdy?" he heard a priest call to him from the compound's entrance. He was a large, albeit fit, elderly man with a thick beard and eyebrows to match.

"Get out of here, old-timer, this isn't a place for someone who's a sprint away from throwing out their back."

"My, you've a mouth on ya, huh?" the man hissed as he slowly approached him. "I've heard of you, you know. The proverbial wolf amongst the heroes' flock."

"He knows about my past?" Metal Meister thought. "But that's not—"

"Not possible? I agree. You covered your tracks well. However," the man continued as he tapped his forehead, "you'll find it quite difficult to keep secrets from me."

"Ah," Metal Meister announced as he cracked his knuckles, "a psychic, huh?"

"In the flesh."

"A priest who uses blackmail. Now I've truly seen everything," he hissed as the man chortled.

"Oh, give me some credit, I won't spill the beans on you or anyone. Never have, never will," he continued as he raised his fists. "That said, you'll find that I use my blessing in a more... interesting... fashion."

"Well then, in that case, let's get on with it!" In the blink of an eye, the two men were face-to-face trading blows. With every minute opening, Metal Meister snuck in and used his quirk to fill the priest's surroundings with a thick miasma of nonlethal nerve agents.

"You aren't even trying to hide it now!" the priest chuckled as he leaped back, giving Metal Meister's chin a light kick right before he landed.

"Hell," he said as he cradled his aching head. "The priest wasn't lying, he's got skills," Metal Meister thought to himself as he recoiled back and readied a counterattack. "Even if he can read my moves, he'll only be able to avoid them for so long." One of the bonuses of his specific quirk was its longevity: he was no stranger to battles of endurance. "Now then, come on!" he yelled as he slammed his palms together, filling the area with another cloud of fatiguing smog. For a moment, his opponent went as silent as the grave; however, Metal Meister knew it was just a play. "Someone who was able to dodge my first attack wouldn't fall to something like this." As he predicted, a subtle murmur flew through the cloud, alerting him of a nearby enemy. "More, huh?"

"You've got that right!" the priest yelped. "You didn't honestly think that you'd just be fighting little old me after attacking a fortified compound, did you?!"

"He's trying to goad me." Based on the sound of the man's voice, he was currently perched on an alcove on the other end of the courtyard. "That means my real enemy right now is here!" With speed that would make a cheetah blush, Metal Meister forced his right leg up into the air, sending his boot square into the nether regions of another cloaked priest. "Hey, friend, that looks like it hurts," he hissed.

"Gah! Be more careful, Reginald! He's craftier than he looks!"

"Now you tell me," the cloaked man whimpered. Metal Meister grinned as he heard the assailant quickly hop away. As a man, he knew he wouldn't be back for a while. However, just one soldier out of the game was nothing compared to the veritable army Linda had at her disposal. Mere moments after that little exchange, Metal Meister could feel the area shake: an entire regiment was closing in on his position, fast.

"Shit!" he thought as he slammed his fists together, "It's time to get a little wild!"


Linda cursed as she rushed down the hallway. Just a few moments earlier, she'd received a report from her operatives stationed at Walker's hospital that their operation had been a success. However, now, with that hero gumming up the works, her carefully scheduled departure had underwent a disastrous delay. "I've got to be out of this country before the heroes catch wind of what's truly going on!" The sheer personal embarrassment aside, being caught kidnapping a student in a sovereign nation would be a blemish that the Vatican would not soon forget; there was a chance such a thing could tarnish her entire legacy, if not worse. "That said," she mumbled to herself, "the risks are worth it." As she strode out the emergency exit on the northern side of the property, she turned to one of her aides and shoved a small folder into their arms. "Take this to the nearest platoon fast; I want a helicopter here within the hour."

"Understood!"

"You three, go to the front of the building and support the others. Inform the local police force that we've been assaulted by a gang of rogue villains; tell them we're handling it." With the city currently embroiled in a reconstruction crisis, it'd be more advantageous for her to inform the authorities while stretching the truth. "This city's Commission can't afford to send out entire groups of heroes willy nilly, they're far too busy managing the looters and gangs." Based on that logic, as long as she didn't make an attempt to obviously omit the local force, they'd likely take their precious time getting here. Especially since it seemed that their little guest came to their base alone.

"That hubris of his is going to cost that man dearly," Linda thought as she ground her teeth in frustration. "Progress is inevitably met with some resistance," she muttered to herself as she strolled across the battered walkway. "Have those guys procured the target yet?" she asked another assistant, who nodded.

"Indeed, they had a bit of trouble but were able to get away before the authorities arrived."

"That's good to hear. Let's hope the Almighty continues to bless them with good fortune."

With that exchange, Linda and her retinue continued their journey to the landing pad in nervous silence. Slowly but surely, the sound of the battlefield was drawing nearer. "That bastard's tenacious," she thought as she bit her lip. Was there a chance that she'd have to get personally involved? "No," Linda shook her head, "The Vatican can't afford to let our abilities be shown to the general public yet! An external confrontation like that would carry the weight of the entire faith!" For them to succeed, she needed to finish this quickly while also being discreet. "All this for one boy, hmph," she thought with a halfhearted chuckle. "For humanities' sake, I sure hope you live up to my premonition, Allen Walker."


Allen rubbed his aching head as his eyelids fluttered open. "Ugh," he groaned as he tried to straighten himself out; however, he was immediately caught and restrained by a batch of industrial-strength bindings.

"Hey, look, he's finally awake," a familiar voice said. Allen looked up; it was one of the men who kidnapped him from the hospital.

"Where am I?" he muttered as the small space they were in suddenly shook.

"A transport, or, to be more accurate, a helicopter."

"A helicopter? Why? Why are you doing this?" Thanks to their quirks, he was still groggy and slurring his words; however, he could still manage to surmise some basic facts: such as his captors' unique pins. "They're working for the Vatican?"

"Don't ask us, kid, we're just following orders. Although," the first man said as he pulled the helicopter's hatch open and spat out the window, "I can't say I'm too keen about adding this mission to my resume."

"What? You going soft on us now, Torii?" the first of his assailants asked the third man—whose codename was apparently Torii—over a round of shots.

"Drinking on the job? C'mon, man, have some class," Torii chortled as he took off his mask and scratched his fiery red hair. "It's negligence like that which led us to this situation in the first place, Cannae," he continued while motioning a thumb to his ears. Cannae must've been the one who knocked him out back at the hospital.

"That's a laugh," the man chortled, "After all, it was my quick thinking that allowed us to complete this mission in the first place. You've all seen the briefings, this kid isn't exactly easy to capture."

"But he's the VIP," Torii groaned. "Linda wouldn't like it if he arrived injured. In fact, she explicitly ordered us to ensure that he arrives unharmed."

"Bah! We all know how ridiculous that request was. Plus, it isn't like he's exactly struggling to breathe," the man said as he yanked at Allen's shirt collar. "Look at him, he's practically fine already! Whatever this brat is, he certainly heals quick."

"And this treatment certainly isn't helping, so do you mind letting me go?" Allen snapped as he flung himself free of the fighter's grasp.

"Well, for a so-called 'saint', you certainly have a mouth on ya, don't you, brat?"

"Shove it." He wasn't sure why, but none of these men were in the position to do him much harm. In that case, he could treat them however he pleased.

"Tch," Cannae bit his lip, "How pleasant." After that, an awkward silence filled the cabin; eventually, it was too much to bear, and the third man snapped.

"Well, since you're going to be dealing with us for a while, I might as well introduce myself," the last remaining of the group said as he slapped his knee and stood up. "You probably already know Cannae and Torii's names, mine's Florien, I'm a mercenary from southern Italy."

"That explains the accent," Allen thought. "So, why all the theatrics to kidnap little old me? I doubt there are many who care so much about a random student from Japan."

"Oh, boy, you have no idea," Florien sighed as he scratched his dirty purple hair. "Truth be told, we're not exactly privy to the details ourselves; however, at least from where I'm standing, I can tell immediately that you're hiding something." Some men could sniff out a poker face at a glance, Florien must've been one of those people.

"This isn't good." Allen frowned. None of these soldiers were idiots or could be easily provoked. If he wanted to escape, he'd have to wait for them to drop their guards, but how could he do that in this confined space? After a few moments of thinking, though, an evil grin surfaced on Walker's face. Thanks to his time running from debt collectors on Cross' behalf, he had more than a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to situations like this. "You all wouldn't happen to have a bathroom around here?"

"Hah," Torii scoffed, "Nice try, kid, but we're not falling for that." With those words, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bottle. "You'll be treated like a king once we deliver you to our boss. Until then, though, your ass is under our jurisdiction. For that reason, until we arrive, you use that bottle. How you do it with your hands bound, though, is up to you."

"Damn. Tough crowd." With a shrug, Allen did as he was told and bumbled to the backmost corner of the helicopter. Thankfully, as the soldiers weren't complete creeps, they didn't feel the need to inspect his business personally. "In that case, I've got all the time in the world," he thought as he closed his eyes and focused on his left arm. "Crown Clown, you're up," he said as another horrific headache shot through his skull. The remnants of Cannae's quirk were still lingering; however, he'd been through worse.

"Guys, that brat is doing something," Torii announced when he noticed the bizarre glowing at the back of the cabin.

"This cheeky brat really doesn't learn, huh?" Cannae responded as he raised his arm, no doubt readying his power to send him straight back into unconsciousness. "The boss can bitch all she wants; I don't fancy traveling in a broken helicopter." Sadly, for Cannae, he was too late. In an instant a powerful wave of unknown energy shot through the vehicle, instantly throwing the three guards into an intense bout of nausea.

"Dammit! You two need to pay attention!" Torii cursed as he keeled over and collapsed. With their motor functions temporarily shut down, Allen was free to move past them toward the cockpit. Quietly, he clambered through the small doorway and carefully placed his left hand against the pilot's exposed neck.

"What the he—" the soldier started, only to stop immediately once he recognized who was holding him hostage. "A-Allen Walker?! Why are you out and about?!"

"Just be quiet and land this thing," he hissed as he tightened his grip. The poor fool was obviously some random hire who didn't know anything. "The soldiers in the back mentioned Linda's name, is she the one who put them up to this?" he pondered with a frown. "But why would she do such a thing? That doesn't make any sense." As the events of the past few days shot through his mind, he quickly found himself recollecting on his conversation with Linda just a few days ago. "Looking back, she definitely seemed adamant about gaining my trust. Could it be that she doesn't know the particulars of innocence?" Considering the Holy War was now nothing more than ancient history, that would make sense. Either way, before he could open that can of worms, he had to get back on the ground. Following his threat, the pilot carefully searched for a place to land; however, right as his radar picked up an acceptable pad, disaster struck.

"W-what?!" the pilot cried out as a sudden cloud of smoke filled their vision.

"An explosion?! Now, of all times?!"

"No way, who are they fighting?!"

"Huh? So, was this place where these guys planned to drop me off?" Even though the area was tattered and disheveled, it was obviously a massive complex manned by an untold number of personnel. "Linda," he whispered as his right hand clamped down on the doorframe, "You're here, aren't you?" He had some questions that needed answers. "Open the door," he announced, "Let me off this thing."

"What? No way!" the man yelped. "You'd have to be All Might to survive that sort of fall!"

"If you won't open it, I'll do it myself."

"That's crazy! Do you want to die?!" the pilot yelped; however, Allen was already long gone. Within moments, the pilot's ears shook as a sickening creak reverberated about the cabin. Using a bit of Crown Clown's strength, Allen had ripped the bay door from it hinges. "This insane brat! There's no way he doesn't have a quirk!" He wasn't high enough in the food chain to know the particulars of Linda's mission, but this proved to him one thing: Walker was special. "Dammit!" he wasn't about to go down without a fight. His hand flew to a giant red button on the dashboard, activating powerful clamps to seal the cockpit shut. "If I take a dive, I might be able to knock him out using the force of the fall!" It was a gamble, but, if it paid off...

"What?" he muttered to himself as he glanced back at the now oddly quiet cabin. "Holy crap, he really jumped off! That boy's not sane!" The pilot quickly found himself straining over the window, only to be met with an unbelievable sight: a clown, as white as snow, floating down to the surface.


Metal Meister wheezed like his lungs were on fire as he dived behind a small pile of rubble, "Hell," he cursed, "Those priests mean business." He expected a fight, but these bastards were prepared for war.

"Come out, hero! I promise we'll make it painless!"

"Ugh, great, we got a gloater." People like that appeared from time to time on the job: new quirk-obsessed villains and criminals high on their own power. "Those types are dangerous due to their volatility, but, if I play my cards right, I could make use of this." Contrary to his bulky and brawn appearance—in situations like this—Metal Meister actually preferred a slower, quieter approach. "Let's see how you like this," he thought as he lightly rubbed his fingers together before hastily pressing his palms against some nearby debris.

"You know I can still read your thoughts, right?" the first priest called out as he wandered about the clearing.

"Obviously, you big oaf, but considering that my spot hasn't been carpet-bombed yet, I think I can say that we've found a blind spot in your 'invincible' power." Types who relied and experimented on their quirks like this opponent were quick to react if you hit them in their pride. Even if that priest wouldn't show it, Metal Meister could tell that he was annoyed based on the increased fervor of his footsteps.

"You four, go check behind those bushes," he ordered his fellows as he closed in on his position.

"You can read my mind, but you can't read images. You might know what I'm thinking, but you have no idea where I am, do you?" Metal Meister thought with a cocky grin. That seemed to get under his assailant's skin, as the priest quickened his step and scowled. "There it is." At the height of the man's annoyance, he leaped out of his hiding spot and tossed a handful of dust—which he'd personally manufactured into a corrosive irritant—at the priest's torso. As expected, he attempted to dodge; however, by doing this, he played right into his hands. "Got you! You pious mercenary!" he yelped with a snap as a sudden torrent of smog shot up from the ground touched by the dust.

"What is this?!" the priest screamed as he stumbled and tripped over his own feet.

"You might be able to read minds, but there's no way you're able to discern the 'thoughts' of the air." By using his quirk to react the ambient light with the surrounding atmosphere, he was able to rapidly produce a thick layer of ozone—an extremely hazardous gas when directly inhaled. "Unless he has a doctorate in chemistry, there's no way he'd be able to understand my thought process behind the reaction," he muttered to himself as he slowly strolled up to the sputtering villain. "You lost the second you believed your power was invincible," he hissed. With that, he buried his right foot into the man's jaw, knocking him out. "Anyone else want some?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, ready to continue the fight. However, much to his shock, nobody was there. "Huh?"

The courtyard was as quiet as a morgue, save the occasional squawk from a random pigeon or crow. "Hello!" he yelled. "Are you priests still there?!" Yet again, he was only met with silence. After that, he took a brief stroll through the premises, before noticing a bizarre shimmer of light from the neighboring parking lot.

"There's no way! Is he really here?!"

"Shit!" As quick as a viper, Metal Meister dove into the shadows. He was confident in his abilities to take down most of these greenhorns, but fighting an army was a different matter altogether.

"Apparently," another passing priest said, "he just flew in from the sky!"

"Like on a helicopter? I didn't think the transport was due to arrive for another hour."

"No," the first shook his head, "I mean he literally fell in from the clouds!"

"What? How in the world did that kid survive a fall like that?"

"I don't know, ask Ms. Linda."

"Somebody showed up?" he thought. "Who could be important enough to warrant taking your attention off a violent intrud—" He bit his lip. "There's no way!" Instantly, he found himself sprinting toward the other end of the property, barely taking notice to the untold number of priests and guards which were hot on his trail. "Walker!" he yelled, knowing in his bones that the kid was waiting for him. At first, his call was met with crushing silence; however, eventually, a familiar face popped out from behind a nearby crop of bushes. "Walker!" he thought in disbelief as the pair stared awkwardly at each other for a handful of seconds. The boy looked as if he'd just fallen out of a dumpster, which, in a way, Metal Meister found incredibly comical.

"I see you're doing well," Walker started, obviously trying to force the conversation to a topic besides his horrid appearance, but Metal Meister wouldn't let him get off that easy. He'd drag this moment out with the kid kicking and screaming.

"So, we're just not going to address the elephant in the room?"

"I don't know what you mean," he lied as easily as he breathed. As he spoke, Metal Meister turned his gaze upwards and stared at an oddly disheveled looking helicopter hovering just overhead.

"How far was the fall?"

"Excuse me?" Allen laughed; however, one look at Metal Meister told him that the man wasn't buying any more of his nonsense.

"A hundred or so meters, give and take," he said, his cheeks tinged a bright pink.

"Only a hundred meters? You've got to hit the gym, boy, you're getting weak!" he said with a hearty laugh as he tousled Walker's hair. "I'm glad to see you're still okay, ya moron."

"Heh, thanks." Acceptance, it was so simple a concept and yet, for Walker, one that he thought was so far away.

"Maybe there's hope for me yet."

"Anyways, boy," Metal Meister spoke up as the ground began to shake, "What's say you and I get to the bottom of this pious farce?"

"Agreed!" He didn't like fighting humans, but, in this case, he simply didn't have any other option. "I'm actually going against the church; Road would laugh at me if she saw me now." The second he finished his thought a ginormous group of guards burst out the nearest gate. Hot on their heels were a group of suits—no doubt the commanders of their little regiment—alongside a familiar face.

"Mr. Walker, it's a pleasure to see you out and about," Linda cooed in a disturbingly-concerned tone.

"Ugh," Metal Meister thought, "damn she's creepy." One glance at the kid told him that he wasn't alone in that thought.

"Ms. Linda, I can't exactly say that the feeling's mutual." The poor woman looked like her head was about to explode.

"Walker, with all due respect, I must request that you step away from that intruder."

"That's implying that the kid here isn't an intruder? Were you expecting him tonight? As far as my knowledge is concerned, he was supposed to be resting before being discharged from the hospital. Doctor's orders," Metal Meister hissed.

"That's..."

"Oh? Cat's got your tongue?" he thought as his gaze wandered back to Walker. The boy's body was tense; he was obviously readying himself for a fight.

"Please, Mr. Walker, don't do this! You have no idea just how much you mean to our organization!" For once, what she was saying wasn't a lie. For the Vatican, it could not be overstated how important Walker's existence was. In fact, at that moment, it would not be a stretch to say that they thought him to be the most important person in the world.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or disgusted." Either way, he knew in his bones that following Linda was not the right choice. "Ma'am, I apologize, but I have no intention of accepting your offer." He'd dealt with enough dregs of humanity back when he was an exorcist to know that Linda and her retinue were not fine company, no matter how ideal their goal was. The shock of his denial rippled across Linda's face like a stone dropped in a puddle, however, as quickly as her emotions turned for the worse, they flipped on their head.

"Ahhh, damn," she cursed as she began to pace back and forth. "I should've known this was coming when I hired those three morons to pick you up. I assume that's their helicopter that's about to fall out of the sky?"

"How'd you guess?" Allen asked as he cracked his knuckles.

"Chalk it up to a woman's intuition."

"You ready for this, kid?" Metal Meister whispered as the large group of soldiers slowly surrounded them.

"No. But that doesn't really matter, does it?" he said.

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't." With that, Metal Meister raised his fists and readied himself for another bout. In the blink of an eye, chaos erupted in that small, ruined walkway. Unsurprisingly, Linda's minions leaped to Metal Meister's flanks, eager to remove the thorn in their mistress' side.

"I've got your back!" Allen yelped as he pushed Metal Meister aside and activated his innocence. The force of the holy aura swept many off their feet, wiping out an eighth of their forces in an instant.

"Is that what you used on your buddies back at the school?"

"You know about that?"

"How could I not, kid?"

"Good point," Allen started as he raised his arm and, after bumping fists with his partner, catapulted off a nearby wall and into the air.

"Dammit," Linda thought as she glared a hole into the pavement beneath her feet, "Why did this have to happen? What? Are you trying to tell me something, Lord?" She might've been unconventional but her intentions were pure. Walker's induction into the church would usher in a new age of faith; just imagining all the possibilities such a thing would bring made her giddy. "Don't you understand, boy? You're the answer that humanity's been looking for. The truth to one of the age-old mysteries of the universe lies locked in that body of yours." It wasn't like she was asking the kid to fight, she just wanted him to be a symbol.

"Miss! What are your orders?!" one of her subordinates cried out.

"Hell," she groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Capture that boy, by any means necessary." As she spoke, Linda reached up to her shoulders and threw off her coat. "Looks like I'm heading back into the fray."

"Ms. Linda's going to fight?!" her subordinates thought as they moved aside.

"Hm? I thought she was a noncombatant," Metal Meister thought as the hairs on the back of his neck shot up.

"I think you and I both know, hero, that it isn't good to underestimate others," as she spoke, both of them could feel the air waft off their shoulders like viscous syrup. "You aren't the only ones with an ace up your sleeve!" And, with that, everything went white.


Author's Note

Hey, all, I'm back again with yet another short note! I just wanted to say thanks for reading this story! These past few months have been buuuusy up at the university so I haven't been able to devote as much time to writing (but I guess what else is new?). I just wanted to say that, for those of you who have stuck around, thanks again! It's why I've been able to do this for so long! Anyways, that's pretty much it, we're in the endgame now so all I can say is I'll see you on the next chapter of A Tale of Two Endlings!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Last Lap