My name is Izuku Midoriya, and when I was four years old, I learned that all men are not created equal.
Some men, like All Might, were so great they could just dodge a bullet.
Others, like Superman, could catch the bullet, look at you with disappointment in his eyes, and punch your lights out.
My parents, they weren't heroes. When we moved across the world so my dad could work in Gotham, leaving behind Japan for America, even at the tender age of four I knew it was really because they were seeking a better life for me. At least here, being quirkless wasn't seen as a disability.
We'd only been in Gotham a few days, but I'll never forget that night. I was holding onto my mothers hand, rain pouring as we hurried down the sketchy alley that my father had decided to take to get us home faster. We'd spent a night out to learn about our new home, and it was coming to an end like so many others in this city had.
I remember my father on the ground as I held onto my mothers hand, terrified by the sound of the gunshots still ringing in my ears before I felt her grip go limp, a hand quickly moving in front of me and snatching her purse off the ground.
"Just keep cool, kid, and you won't end up like mommy and daddy." He taunted cruelly, patting down my father and taking his wallet before running away with loot he'd considered worth more than my parents' lives and leaving me alone with my grief.
The gunshots had brought the police and the police brought Batman. I ran and clang to his leg and cried, burying my face in the tough armor and hiding. He was a hero. He'd make sure everything was okay.
His voice was low and gravelly as he spoke to the police before he gently removed me from his leg, looking at my sobbing face and pulling out a candy.
"I need you to listen. The person who did this, what did they look like?" He asked, and even though i kind of knew what he was saying, I didn't know how to tell him.
I replied in Japanese, pointing the same way we'd come from, back towards the other end of the street.
"He had hair like mine, and he was skinny and pale. He was tall and scary and hurt my mama and papa." I took his hand, his presence alone enough to reassure me things would be fine.
He swapped my hand for the candy, looking me in the eyes as he replied in perfect Japanese.
"Is that the way he went?" He asked, pointing where I had.
I nodded, and he handed me a second candy before speaking to police man with grey hair who wrapped me in his jacket and led me to his car.
I screamed, begging for my mama and papa, but they didn't come, the rest of the night blurred around me, police asking me questions, debating where I should go, what to do with an immigrant who had no family left in the world, my childhood dying that night.
In the end, I was sent to a boys' home, with no one to protect me from the other boys their who had quirks and were bigger and stronger than I was.
Quirk or not, I learned to survive, smarter than the other boys, learning to fight and keep going, getting more determined as I got stronger and bigger, years passing as a ward of the state and occasionally foster homes, usually forgotten.
I learned no one cared about the forgotten. How to avoid being in trouble and to keep my head down. That I needed to keep my fist clenched to win quickly and that to avoid consequences, I just had to make up a believable lie. I learned that in this city, no one survived unless they were strong, and no one was strong alone. I joined a local street gang and did jobs for cash before that asshole, Robin, took down most of the gang. They hadn't reformed, and I wasn't desperate enough to work for a villain, but if I didn't find a way to make some cash soon, that's where I was headed.
I remember running away from the latest foster home they'd put me in this time and how much I hated the Hickmans.
I had twenty dollars, some snacks I'd taken from their kitchen, and clean clothes in the backpack the state provided. Great. What a dumb decision. If I was going to run away, I should have remembered to steal the money from Mrs. Hickmans swear jar first. Hell, most of the money in there was mine anyway.
I had nowhere to go, and not enough money to go anywhere even if I had someplace to get to. Well, It still beat pretending to be part of a family that I wasn't.
At least the night was clear for once. The rainy Gotham streets dry for a change as I pulled my hood over my head and walked into an all-night restaurant.
"Hey, sugar, pull up a chair anywhere, I'll get to ya in a minute." A woman dressed as Harley Quinn told me, and the thought of it being the real deal crossed my mind for a second before I read the name of the restaurant, "Superbabes," from the counter and shook my head, noticing the other waitresses dressed as heroines and villainesses. Guess we all had to make a living.
"I'll be at the bar." I told her, planning on using my last twenty in a place where people only cared about cash, getting a beer to try and drown out my misery.
Two drinks in, and I was out of money, but for now, they didn't need to know that yet, sitting there and nursing my drink before one of the drunker patrons next to me decided to get grabby with a waitress dressed like Power Girl, who in kind slapped the piss out of him.
"Freakin' bitch!" He managed to get out, his words slurring as he got up to hit her, right before I took my mug and smashed it against the back of his head, glass shattering everywhere.
"What a jackass." I muttered, ordering another drunk before I was on my ass, the man standing over me and showing just how big he was.
"Should've gone gone for your nuts. Your brain is just too damn small for me to give you a concussion." I cracked, holding my bruising jaw before he picked me up and dragged me out to the alley like I didn't weigh a thing to him, beating my ass for a few minutes before leaving me out there, evidently satisfied with the job he'd done on a fifteen year old.
I laid there for a moment and wished this wasn't a familiar pain, finally getting up and limping away out to the streets, heading for a little place I knew of, just so I could rest. It wouldn't be more than a temporary shelter.
It took a while, heading a few blocks down to the building with the awning on it, happy and content to stay there to just watch the city from so high up for a while.
A few hours passed before a voice came from the fire escape and brought me out of my own little world, expecting to seepolice and finding the exact opposite.
"Uh, you wouldn't happen to be police, would you?" I asked nervously, getting a shrill laugh in return.
"That's right! Officer Joker, reporting for duty!" He joked, his twisted grin sending fear down my spine.
"What are you doing here, sport?" He asked, a woman in a diamond patterned clown suit poking her head up over the roof edge.
"Oh shit, you guys are the real deal."
"Hahahaha! You know it, Junior." The Joker laughed again, aiming a gun at me and squeezing the trigger, a blam flag waving from the end of it as Harley Quinn, the real one this time, climbed up next to the Joker.
"What's your name?" Harley asked, looking at the bruises and cuts all over my face.
"Izuku ma'am." Too afraid to lie or be rude.
"Why's a rugrat like you hanging around here this late?" Her spiked toe boots sent a shiver down my spine as she got closer. Jesus, I'd seen her on TV use those things on cops. They always left whoever she kicked disfigured, or worse, neutered.
"I ran away from my foster family." I'd made it this far in Gotham without being caught up in elaborate supervillain plans, and now it seemed my luck was running out. Well, the worst that happened was I got to see my parents again.
"Oh, Mista J, can we keep him? Pleeeeeese?" Harley begged, and I felt a little insulted by the notion. Then again, I was broke and tired of being tossed around the system. Maybe I was finally desperate enough.
"Do I get a say? I mean, you guys are wanted in every state, a few foreign countries, and banned from Big Belly Burger. I can excuse the first two, but I love Triple Bs'" I told them, and looked over to me.
"Oh honey, of course you get a say. Do you wanna join our little family?" She asked, and I thought about my options. The way I was going, I was headed for hired goon employment for my adult years. Might as well speed up the process and get a huge promotion while I was at it.
"You know what? I'd love to. Just don't expect me to call you mom or dad." I agreed, Harley giving me a suffocating hug before letting go.
"You'll be the one responsible for taking care of him." He told her, Harley looking esatic as she also hugged her boyfriend, who quickly pushed her away.
"I promise I'll take good care of him. Oh, we'll be great parents!" She proudly announced before finally noticing my hair.
"Look, you both got the same color hair! This is gotta be fate or somethin'!"
Before I knew it, they'd led me down into their hideout and up a platform a few feet above the ground, Joker shooting once to get the attention of the henchmen doing what looked like repairs on an armored van.
"You don't just have like, a PA system or something?" I asked, looking down at the group of goons staring up at the three of us and muttering.
"What, I got something in my teeth?" Came an automatic smart remark, Joker laughing beside me.
"Pretty good digs, roomier than my last place. Hey, if I'm your, uh, son, can I tell those guys what to do?"
Joker put his hand on my shoulder and laughed again, and weirdly enough, I was starting to feel a little more st ease.
"Of course, kiddo, try it out!" He told me once he'd managed to keep his laughter down.
I pointed at them, clearing my throat before giving orders. "You four, do the hokey pokey until I say to stop, you four, do the sprinkler. And you with the overalls, you can get me antibacterial cream and some bandages."
Lucky for me, none of them argued, and I got to make a few henchmen look like assholes before getting the medical supplies I'd asked for.
"Alright, get back to work, I guess. And no slacking off. The boss don't pay you to do nothin'!" I yelled, laughing a little as they rushed to keep working, afraid of what would happen if they didn't.
I grinned, laughing at the sight as I faced Harley and Joker. "Okay, that was actually kind of fun. Who knew all this time my private spot was actually a villain hideout?"
"Maybe so, but you look dead tired, son. Come on, let's get you fixed up and in bed, hmm? A growing boy needs his sleep." Joker told me, and I wondered if he was actually concerned.
"Do I get a room to myself? What about no wellness checks every odd hour and locked pantries? I mean, I get that it's state law, but me eating cheese at three in the morning won't kill me."
"We don't have any rules, especially rules like that." Harley told me kindly, and I felt more at home here than any foster house I'd ever lived in.
"So I can eat cheese at three in the morning. Man, I think I'm gonna like it here." I told them, grinning cheek to cheek before I laughed, absolutely estatic that I'd found somewhere I felt like I belonged.
"Seriously, I am actually exhausted. Where do I sleep?" I asked, getting taken to a bedroom with a small bed.
"We'll go shopping for actual furniture and things tomorrow, and you can make it your own. Of course, we'll still move around a lot, but we'll be together." Harley told me, much kinder than I'd have expected from an insane woman.
"Sure. Uh, goodnight, Miss Quinn." I muttered, taking my bag off and setting it next to the bed before sitting on the side of it.
"Goodnight, Izuku." She replied, closing the door behind her, and even though this place felt like I belonged, it didn't feel familiar.
"Jesus, what the hell am I getting myself into?" I asked myself, laying down and staring up at the ceiling before I fell asleep thinking about how weird my life had gotten in just a few short hours.