…

The Man Out of Time

Chapter 27

"Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn."

– Benjamin Franklin

Kanazawa, Japan - May 2197

In the heart of Kanazawa City, as the afternoon sun cast its golden rays over the bustling streets, Midoriya Izuku found himself stepping off the train at the local station. The air was crisp and fresh, a stark contrast to the dense urban landscape of Musutafu. He adjusted the strap of his bag and his hold on to his costume case before making his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and determination.

The walk to the Urban Guard agency building was short but filled with the vibrant energy of the city. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life, the harmonious blend of tradition and modernity that characterized Kanazawa. As he approached the agency, Midoriya took a moment to admire the structure. It was an unassuming building, blending seamlessly with its neighbors, yet he knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Entering the lobby, Midoriya was greeted by the receptionist, a young woman with a friendly smile. "Welcome to Urban Guard," she said. "How can I assist you?"

"I'm Midoriya Izuku, an intern from UA," he replied, his voice steady but polite.

The receptionist's smile broadened. "Ah, yes, we've been expecting you. Let me inform a Hero on staff about your arrival." She then glanced at a skylight which revealed the clear blue sky. "It's such lovely weather today, isn't it?"

Midoriya nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Yes, but I always carry an umbrella." The words, seemingly innocuous, carried a deeper meaning.

The receptionist's demeanor subtly shifted as she recognized the passcode. Without a word, she discreetly pressed a red button hidden under her desk. "You can head down the hall and take the elevator," she instructed, her tone now laced with a hint of formality.

Midoriya acknowledged with a nod and made his way to the elevator. On his way, Midoriya brought out his cellphone to send a text to Aizawa and his friends to notify them he had arrived safely.

As he approached the elevator and entered inside, the doors slid closed behind him and noticed a hidden panel to the side, its existence unnoticed by untrained eyes. While pressing a button for a secret floor, thumbprint and DNA scans were performed that immediately verified Midoriya's identity.

The elevator descended deeper than the building's apparent structure and Midoriya found himself entering a hidden underground facility, its sleek design and advanced technology a stark contrast to the world above. The doors slid open, and he was greeted by two individuals.

Agent Coulson, a familiar face, stood with his characteristic warm yet professional smile. "Welcome, Cap," he said in English, his tone welcoming. "Glad to see you made it safely."

"Thanks, Coulson," Midoriya replied, returning the smile. His attention then shifted to the woman standing beside Coulson.

She was a striking figure, standing at 170 centimeters (five-foot-seven), with an athletic and muscular yet voluptuous build accentuated by her fitted black jumpsuit. Her attire was complemented by advanced golden gauntlets and a belt adorned with gold oval shapes and a circular buckle, showcasing a black widow symbol. Her long red hair cascaded to her mid-back, framing piercing green eyes and plump red lips.

Midoriya, while acknowledging her beauty internally, sensed there was far more to her than her appearance suggested.

"Agent Romanoff, Captain Midoriya," Coulson announced.

Midoriya offered a respectful nod, greeting her with a simple, "Ma'am."

Romanoff's voice carried a distinct Russian accent as she replied, "Привет, Captain. It is an honor." Her face maintained a professional yet approachable demeanor.

With introductions out of the way, Coulson prompted them to begin the debriefing. As they navigated through the corridors of the underground facility, Midoriya observed the flurry of activity around them - agents and Underground Pro Heroes moved with intention and focus, a testament to the gravity of their clandestine operations.

Breaking the silence, Romanoff commented on the recent discovery of Midoriya. "It was quite the buzz finding you in the ice," she said, her accent giving her words a unique cadence.

"So I've heard," Midoriya replied, keeping the tone light and conversational.

A playful smile crossed Romanoff's lips as she glanced at Coulson. "I don't think I've ever seen Coulson so elated. I thought he was going to swoon over the news."

Midoriya couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image, appreciating Romanoff's humorous observation and the charming accent that flavored her words.

Coulson, a bit flustered, defended himself. "That's an exaggeration," he insisted.

Romanoff continued her gentle teasing. "Oh? Have you shown the Captain your collection yet?" she asked, addressing Coulson but glancing back at Midoriya.

Coulson admitted, somewhat sheepishly, "Well, yes."

Romanoff turned her attention back to Midoriya. "And what did you think, Captain?"

Midoriya responded, feeling a tad awkward about the subject. "I think Coulson's quite the dedicated fan."

Romanoff, undeterred by Coulson's protests, playfully inquired further. "Did you sign those trading cards for him?"

Coulson interjected, "Romanoff, that's not necessary to discuss right now."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked back at Midoriya. "They're vintage, and he's quite proud of them, as you might have noticed," she said, the humor evident in her voice.

Midoriya smiled, understanding the sentiment well. Thoughts of All Might, Yaoyorozu, and Uraraka, each a fan in their own right, crossed his mind.

As the trio approached a secure room, a series of scans and authentications preceded their entry. Inside, a room lined with screens displaying data and maps came into view, dominated by a large table at the center. Around the table sat at least a dozen agents, all clad in tactical uniforms, engaged in various tasks.

The moment Coulson, Romanoff, and Midoriya entered, the room fell into a hush. All eyes turned towards them, particularly focusing on Midoriya. Coulson took the lead in introductions.

"STRIKE Team, meet Captain Midoriya," he announced, his voice carrying a tone of pride.

At the mention of Midoriya's name, the agents promptly stood at attention and saluted the super-soldier, a gesture of respect that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Captain," Coulson continued, addressing Midoriya directly, "this is the Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies, or STRIKE Team."

Midoriya raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sounds like you really wanted an acronym that spelled 'Strike'."

Romanoff couldn't help but chuckle lightly at his observation, a silent agreement to his musing.

Coulson smiled briefly before continuing. "They're a counter-terrorist special mission unit of SHIELD. The best of the best." He then gestured towards the team, emphasizing their significance. "They and Agent Romanoff will be your team for this mission."

Following Coulson's cue, a man detached himself from the group and approached them. He was a well-built figure, standing at 175 centimeters (five-foot-nine) with a chiseled jawline, short black hair, and dark brown eyes, exuding an air of authority and confidence.

"Captain Midoriya, this is STRIKE's leader, Agent Brock Rumlow," Coulson introduced the man.

Rumlow saluted Midoriya, his expression one of professional respect. "Captain," he said, "it's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh."

Midoriya returned the nod, his demeanor shifting to one of seriousness. "If SHIELD's calling in its best for this mission, it must be important."

"Great observation." Just then, a sardonic voice echoed through the room's speakers, drawing their attention. A screen on the wall flickered to life, revealing a live video feed of a man seated at a desk.

"Take a seat, intern," the man, the Director of SHIELD, Nick Fury, said with a hint of irony in his tone. "We'll get you caught up to speed with how we do things around here."

Midoriya internally rolled his eyes. 'Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a running theme here?'

Musutafu, Japan

Sero, now known as 'Cellophane', attentively listened to the words of Air Jet, his mentor, as they patrolled the city. Air Jet's voice carried a note of stern guidance, "Always keep an eye on your surroundings. Every swing that takes you below a traffic light is a risk of startling a driver. That means a potential accident; maybe the driver gets hurt, maybe a pedestrian, or maybe even you."

Cellophane absorbed this advice, his focus unwavering as he swung from a light pole, maintaining a careful balance between being high enough to avoid interfering with street-level activities and low enough to gather momentum for his next leap.

Their patrol had kicked off almost immediately after a brief introduction. Air Jet, a Hero known for his rigorous schedule, seamlessly integrated practical lessons into their patrol routine. His approach was firm, yet he showed a keen ability to adapt his teaching to Cellophane's unique strengths and areas for improvement. Today's lesson revolved around enhancing Cellophane's situational awareness, a crucial skill for a Hero whose movement depended on swinging through the urban landscape.

For Cellophane, the intensity of the training was more than he had anticipated. Yet, the thrill of engaging in real fieldwork infused a sense of excitement into the learning process. Every swing, every leap brought a new lesson, a new challenge to overcome.

'And if I happen to learn a thing or two, then that's even better,' Cellophane thought to himself, a grin forming under his mask. The exhilaration of being out in the field, learning first-hand from a Pro Hero, was precisely what he had hoped for in his internship.

As he maneuvered through the cityscape, a thought crossed his mind about his classmates. 'I hope the others are having as great a time as I am,' he mused, curious about their own internship experiences but thoroughly enjoying his own.

Shibuya, Japan

The excitement on Ashido's face was irrepressible as she approached the Cloud Dancer agency. The prospect of training under someone as dynamic and vibrant as Cloud Dancer was a dream come true for her. The agency, doubling as a dance studio, exuded a retro vibe straight from the 1970s, complete with flamboyant neon colors and upbeat music that set Ashido's heart racing with anticipation.

Cloud Dancer herself seemed to embody the essence of the studio's aesthetic. She sported a modernized version of the 70s look: a green bodysuit with purple sleeves, complemented by sleek carbon-fiber armor on her forearms and calves. Her bright pink mask, rising to resemble a headband, added to her distinctive appearance. With her pink hair and infectious smile, she bore a striking resemblance to Ashido, sans the horns, skin tone, and eye color.

As Cloud Dancer wrapped up an impressive series of flips and kicks, she effortlessly caught a water bottle thrown her way, a display of skill that left Ashido in awe. "Hey, there!" Cloud Dancer greeted her with enthusiasm. "You're Ashido Mina, right? Welcome to my Agency!"

Ashido, practically vibrating with excitement, managed a bow in greeting. "Hi! It's great to be here!" she replied, her voice trembling slightly from the thrill.

Cloud Dancer, sensing Ashido's eagerness, suggested, "I'll bet! Hey, why don't you use one of our changing rooms and get into costume? I like to run my interns through their paces a bit on their first day. Watching your routine on TV is great and all, but a performance looks so much better when you see it with your own eyes."

Ashido could hardly believe how much she was already liking Cloud Dancer. She quickly changed into her costume and reemerged into the studio, where Cloud Dancer couldn't help but laugh at their strikingly similar costume colors. "Okay, I had no idea we had similar costume colors! This has to be, like, fate or something," she exclaimed, signaling another employee with a snap of her fingers. Instantly, a high-energy beat filled the studio.

"Show me what you've got, kid! Let's throw down!" Cloud Dancer challenged.

Confused but ready, Ashido tilted her head. "What, are we gonna fight? Now?"

"Not exactly," Cloud Dancer clarified, effortlessly floating into the air with the aid of her Quirk, Cloud Step, which allowed her to stay airborne as long as she maintained momentum. "We're not gonna really fight, I just want to get a handle on your moves. No acid, though; I just got the floors waxed. All I want you to do is try to tag me, and try not to get tagged by me. You picking up what I'm putting down?"

The grin on Ashido's face seemed permanent as she began her warm-up stretches. "Oh, I'm ready!" she declared, her enthusiasm undimmed by the unusual nature of the challenge.

Sapporo, Japan

Tokage Setsuna found herself at the threshold of a new chapter in her Hero journey. Her internship with the illustrious and somewhat enigmatic Hero Majestic had begun, promising to mold her unique Quirk into something extraordinary.

The location of Majestic's agency, nestled in the heart of Hokkaido's capital city, was as grand as it was secretive. The modern facade of the building, with its gleaming glass and steel, was a testament to the Hero's flair for the dramatic.

As Tokage entered the agency, she was immediately struck by the vibrant atmosphere. The lobby was spacious, filled with contemporary art and holographic displays showcasing Majestic's most notable achievements. The staff, dressed in sleek uniforms, moved with a sense of purpose and efficiency that spoke volumes of the agency's reputation.

Her first meeting with Majestic was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The Hero, known for his flamboyant costume and theatrical presence, was surprisingly down-to-earth in person. His costume, a dazzling array of colors with intricate patterns, complemented his dynamic personality. He greeted Tokage with a warm, charismatic smile that instantly put her at ease.

"Welcome, Tokage-san! I've been looking forward to working with you," Majestic announced, his voice resonating with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Majestic-san. I'm honored to be here," Tokage replied, her voice tinged with excitement and a hint of nervousness.

Their first task was to assess and enhance Tokage's Quirk, 'Lizard Tail Splitter'. Majestic's approach was methodical yet creative, pushing her to think outside the box and explore new ways to utilize her Quirk.

As they delved into training, Majestic guided her through various exercises designed to improve her precision and control. He challenged her to maneuver her detached parts through complex obstacle courses, testing her limits and helping her discover newfound potential.

"Focus, Tokage-san. Remember, each part of you should move with intention and purpose," Majestic instructed, observing her progress with keen eyes.

Tokage, determined to rise to the challenge, pushed herself harder. She maneuvered her detached limbs with increasing finesse, a testament to her growing skill and Majestic's effective mentorship.

During a brief pause in their training, Tokage remembered her promise to a certain someone.

"Majestic-san, would it be okay if we took a selfie together? I promised someone back in Musutafu I'd send them updates about my internship," Tokage asked, a hopeful tone in her voice.

Majestic's face lit up with a broad grin. "Of course! Let's give them a glimpse of our dynamic duo!"

They posed together, Majestic's charismatic presence and Tokage's vibrant energy creating a perfect snapshot of their mentor-mentee relationship. Tokage quickly snapped the photo, capturing a moment that she knew would be cherished.

After sending the selfie to Yuto with a brief message detailing her exciting experiences, Tokage felt a warm sense of accomplishment. 'And to think there's six more days. I wonder how the others are doing… Should be some interesting stuff in the chat tonight.'

Yokohama City, Japan

Tsunotori Pony, known as 'Rocketti' during her internship, stood at the edge of the training facility, her eyes fixed on the daunting figure of Gang Orca, her mentor for the week. The vast area was marked with various obstacles and training equipment, a testament to the rigorous training regimen that Gang Orca was known for. Tsunotori's heart pounded with a mix of nervousness and excitement; she was about to embark on a training session that would push her to her limits.

Gang Orca, with his imposing presence and stern demeanor, turned towards her. "Rocketti," he began, his voice deep and commanding, "your Quirk has great potential, but to be an effective Hero, you need to refine your control and versatility."

Tsunotori nodded, her determination evident. "I understand, Gang Orca-sensei. I'm ready to learn and improve."

"Good," he replied. "Today, we'll focus on enhancing the precision and strength of your Horn Cannon. I've set up a series of targets around the training area. Your task is to hit each one using your horns. Precision is key."

As Tsunotori prepared herself, Gang Orca continued, "Remember, the battlefield is unpredictable. You'll need to adapt quickly and use your surroundings to your advantage."

The training began with Tsunotori launching her horns towards the first set of targets. She focused, her horns whizzing through the air with increasing speed and accuracy. However, the challenge quickly escalated as Gang Orca introduced moving targets and obstacles, pushing Tsunotori to think on her feet and adjust her aim in real-time.

With each successful hit, Tsunotori's confidence grew, but Gang Orca wasn't one to let his intern settle into a comfort zone. He raised the stakes, demanding faster, more complex maneuvers.

"Anticipate the movement, Rocketti!" Gang Orca instructed as Tsunotori struggled to keep up with the rapidly changing targets. "Adaptation and foresight are critical on the field."

Tsunotori gritted her teeth, her determination unwavering. She recalibrated her approach, her mind racing to predict the next move of the targets. With a swift motion, she redirected her horns, hitting two moving targets in quick succession.

Impressed but not yet satisfied, Gang Orca decided to test her endurance. "Now, let's see how long you can maintain this level of precision. Hero work is a marathon, not a sprint."

"Yes sir!"

'I wonder if Denki is training as hard as I am…' She briefly pondered before resuming her exercise.

Osaka, Japan

Kaminari Denki's internship with Voltstream, the Electric Hero, was unfolding in a way he hadn't quite expected. It was only midway through his first day, and the pace had been relentless, yet incredibly exciting. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of Osaka, where Voltstream's agency was located.

Voltstream, a Hero whose expertise in electricity manipulation was renowned, had taken an immediate and keen interest in Kaminari's development. Standing on the rooftop of a tall building, Voltstream observed Kaminari, who was attempting to channel his electricity into a focused beam.

"You're dispersing too much energy," Voltstream noted, his voice firm yet encouraging. "Remember, control is key. You need to concentrate the current, not let it scatter."

Kaminari nodded, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He focused his energy, trying to remember the techniques Voltstream had shown him. He raised his hand, sending a surge of electricity towards a dummy target across the rooftop. The electricity sizzled through the air, more focused this time, but still not quite as sharp as it needed to be.

"Not bad, but you're still holding back," Voltstream observed. "You're afraid of shorting out, aren't you?"

Kaminari hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I've had some...unpleasant experiences with that in the past."

Voltstream chuckled softly. "That's understandable. But part of being a Hero is overcoming your limits. Let's try something different."

Voltstream led Kaminari to a setup that resembled an obstacle course, filled with targets at various distances and elevations. "This exercise will help you with precision and control under different conditions," he explained. "You'll move through the course, hitting each target with just enough power to mark it, not destroy it."

Kaminari swallowed nervously but nodded, determined to improve. As he moved through the course, he focused on modulating his output, hitting the targets with varying degrees of success. Some he marked perfectly, while others received a bit too much juice. Voltstream followed, offering pointers and encouragement.

After several rounds, Kaminari's control improved noticeably. He was learning to adjust his output on the fly, a skill that had previously eluded him.

"You're getting the hang of it," Voltstream said approvingly. "Remember, a Hero's power isn't just in the strength of their Quirk, but in how they use it."

Kaminari felt a surge of pride at the compliment. He was starting to understand the nuances of his Quirk in a way he hadn't before. "Thank you, sir!"

"Please. Denryū is fine when it's just me and you." Voltstream kindly said. "But remember, when we're on the job, we use our codenames. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, Voltstream sir!" Kaminari saluted, earning a chuckle from the Pro Hero.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Voltstream decided it was time for a real-world application. "We've received a report of a power outage in a nearby district. It's not Villain activity, just a technical fault, but it's affecting a lot of people. Let's go see if we can lend a hand."

Arriving at the scene, they found a team of engineers struggling with a damaged transformer. Voltstream assessed the situation and then turned to Kaminari. "Think you can jump-start it?"

Kaminari looked at the transformer, then back at Voltstream. "You mean, like, use my electricity to power it?"

"Exactly. But be careful. You need to provide a steady, controlled current. Too much and you could cause more damage."

Kaminari stepped forward, his nerves giving way to determination. He focused, channeling his electricity into the transformer. At first, nothing happened, but then, with a soft hum, the transformer came to life, lights in the surrounding area flickering back on.

The engineers cheered, and Voltstream clapped Kaminari on the back. "Well done. You've just made a lot of people very happy."

As they walked back to the agency, Kaminari couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. His control over his Quirk had improved, and he had helped people in a tangible way. It was moments like this that reminded him of why he wanted to become a Hero in the first place.

Voltstream glanced at Kaminari, a small smile on his face. "You did good today, Kaminari. Keep this up, and you'll be an outstanding Hero."

Kaminari beamed, filled with new confidence and excitement for the days ahead. His internship with Voltstream was proving to be more rewarding than he had ever imagined.

Esuha City, Japan

During a warm afternoon in the bustling city of Eshua in Japan's Kansai region, Yaoyorozu Momo found herself at a small, cozy diner, sharing a table with her internship mentor Fatgum, whom she mused to herself that he looked like a giant Matryoshka doll.

Sitting beside him was a fellow intern, a senior from UA's Hero Course, Tamaki Amajiki. With a height of 177 centimeters (five-foot-ten), pale skin, unruly indigo hair, pointed ears, and thin, tired eyes partially hidden by his bangs, Yaoyorozu was curious as to why he seemed to always avoid eye contact with anyone.

The diner was alive with the aroma of various dishes, creating a homely yet vibrant atmosphere. However, the ambiance contrasted sharply with the serious conversation unfolding at their table.

Fatgum, midway through his third pizza, asked Yaoyorozu a pointed question, "So, what would you say is your, munch, biggest failing since you started your path to become a, munch, hero, Lady Thesis?"

Caught off guard, Yaoyorozu paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. She looked up from her meticulously cut slice, her gaze shifting between the casually dining Fatgum and the shy, reticent Tamaki.

Tamaki, usually soft-spoken, chimed in, showing an unexpected concern for decorum, "Fatgum, that's kind of rude."

Unperturbed, Fatgum brushed off the comment with a wave of his hand, crumbs flying. "It's a fair question."

Yaoyorozu gathered her thoughts before responding. "I think it would be my fear."

This admission seemed to surprise Fatgum, who paused his enthusiastic eating. "Really?" he queried, genuinely intrigued.

Nodding, Yaoyorozu's mind wandered back to a particularly harrowing experience. "This became apparent to me during the villain attack at the USJ."

Fatgum, his expression turning solemn, set down his pizza. "I read the report on that. Terrible what you kids had to go through. But as far as I know, you handled yourself well."

"Yes," Yaoyorozu admitted, her voice wavering slightly. She recalled the harrowing event, "I was separated from my classmates alongside Tsunotori and Kaminari in the Mountain Zone."

Fatgum nodded, showing his familiarity with the incident. "I read that report. From all accounts, it sounds like you three handled yourselves quite well, and even managed to trap and neutralize all the Villains that attacked you. So, when did you fear hold you back?"

Yaoyorozu hesitated, visibly uncomfortable.

Tamaki spoke up softly, "You're thinking about what happened against the Nomu."

At this, Yaoyorozu flinched, her gaze dropping. "Yes… There was a point where we were trapped between Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and Nomu as well as a group of nearly 50 Villains. When I tried to devise a strategy…I froze."

She sighed, a tinge of regret in her voice. "We're only alive thanks to Midoriya's quick thinking and leadership."

Fatgum offered words of comfort. "Don't be too hard on yourself." He pointed out the unique situation. "From my understanding, your classmate Midoriya is a trained soldier. I can only imagine what he's seen and experienced."

Tamaki, though quiet, added a supportive note, "And don't forget, you could have easily been killed during your first encounter with the Villains, but you came up with a sound strategy that saved you and your two classmates."

Reflecting on Yaoyorozu's words, Fatgum leaned back thoughtfully. "It sounds like you just need some old-fashioned field experience. With time and more experience, you'll not only be able to control your fear, you'll see that your decision making will be more efficient too."

Hope flickered in Yaoyorozu's eyes. "You really think it's something that can be improved with experience?"

Fatgum's response was filled with confidence. "Absolutely. You're just starting out. This is the time to learn and grow. Don't fret too much."

"Thank you, Fatgum," Yaoyorozu replied, visibly relieved.

"Now, now! No formalities," Fatgum chuckled. "We three use food to power our Quirks, so we fatties should stick together."

Her smile wavered at the unexpected comment. "F-fat?"

An awkward silence descended upon the table before Tamaki gently nudged Fatgum. "I don't think you're supposed to call a woman fat."

Realization dawned on Fatgum's face. "Oh, OH!"

He quickly apologized, his words tumbling over each other in his haste to make amends, bringing a lighter note to the serious discussion they had just now.

Kyoto, Japan

In the bustling training room of Gunhead's agency, the air was filled with the sounds of intense physical exertion and the occasional grunt of effort. Amidst the group of trainees, Uraraka stood out, moving with a grace and determination that caught even the seasoned eye of Gunhead. He had been introducing his students to the finer points of Gunhead Martial Arts, a unique blend of techniques designed to maximize the strengths of those with Quirks. As the session progressed, he couldn't help but notice Uraraka's rapid comprehension and application of the techniques he demonstrated.

"Alright, everyone! Time for a quick water break," Gunhead announced, clapping his hands together to signal the pause in training. As the trainees dispersed, he made his way over to Uraraka, who was dutifully wiping sweat from her brow.

"Uraraka, I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed," Gunhead began, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. "You've picked up on Gunhead Martial Arts faster than most. What's your secret?"

Uraraka, caught slightly off guard by the praise, offered a sheepish smile in response. "Thank you, Gunhead-san. I've had some combat training before... from Izu–uh, Midoriya-san. He taught me some basic Judo techniques," she explained, her tone modest yet proud of her progress.

"Ah, Yo Joe, huh?" Gunhead mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well, it shows. You have a solid foundation. Keep at it, and you'll be a formidable opponent. Even Midoriya-san might need to watch out for you in the future."

Her laughter was light, tinged with a hint of disbelief. "I'm not sure about that, but thank you. I'll keep training hard."

Gunhead offered an encouraging nod, his expression serious yet supportive. "Don't sell yourself short, Uraraka-san. With dedication and the right guidance, you can achieve anything you set your mind to. Remember that."

As he walked away to attend to the other students, Uraraka took a moment to ponder his words. The thought of matching Midoriya in skill seemed like a distant dream, but Gunhead's encouragement ignited a spark of determination within her. 'Maybe someday,' she thought to herself, a newfound resolve settling in her heart. With that, she took a deep breath and rejoined the group, ready to push herself even harder.

Hosu, Japan

In the bustling streets of Hosu, Iida Tenya stood alongside the Normal Hero: Manual, both of them surveying the area with vigilant eyes. Manual, a seasoned hero known for his water manipulation abilities and his commitment to maintaining peace in Hosu City, turned to Iida with a mix of gratitude and curiosity.

"I must say, Iida-san, I'm both honored and a bit surprised you chose to intern with me," Manual began, his tone sincere. "With your abilities and the prestigious UA behind you, I would have thought you'd go for someone... higher profile."

Iida adjusted his glasses, his posture upright and determined. "Sir, while the allure of interning with a high-profile Pro Hero is strong, I believe there's invaluable experience to be gained at the street level. You're directly involved in the community's safety, dealing with situations that form the backbone of Hero work. I want to learn from that, to understand what it truly means to be a Hero in the everyday sense."

What Iida said was partially true, however, he did have an ulterior motive for coming to Manual's agency. The fact that it was based in Hosu City was the driving factor.

Manual nodded, impressed by Iida's mature perspective. "Well said. It's that kind of mindset that truly makes a Hero. Let's make sure you get the most out of this internship, then."

As they continued their patrol, Manual leading the way with confidence and Iida following with keen interest, their presence alone seemed to reassure the citizens around them. However, Iida's attention was split; every few minutes, his gaze would dart down an alleyway or linger on a shadowed corner, as if expecting something—or someone—to emerge.

'Wherever you are, Hero Killer…I'll find you!' Iida internally vowed, his armored fists clenching.

Unbeknownst to them, their movements were being monitored from afar.

Agent Williams, sitting in a nondescript van filled with screens displaying feeds from various street cameras, sighed heavily. Initially tasked with keeping an eye on Captain Midoriya, he had been re-assigned to watch over Iida at Midoriya's request—a task relayed through Agent Coulson.

"Of all the assignments," Williams muttered, toggling between camera feeds with practiced ease. "Now I'm babysitting in Hosu."

Yet, as he observed Iida's behavior, Williams couldn't help but notice the young hero-in-training's intense scrutiny of his surroundings, an action that didn't align with a simple patrol.

Williams sighed, his earlier frustration giving way to a reluctant acknowledgment of Iida's purpose. "He's really going through with it, isn't he? Hunting for Stain..." The gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him; Iida was walking a dangerous path, one that could lead to confrontation with a dangerous Villain.

Despite his initial annoyance with the assignment, Williams couldn't shake a growing sense of concern for Iida. The young man's quest for vengeance, while understandable, was fraught with peril. It was one thing to admire Iida's courage and dedication, but quite another to watch helplessly, as he potentially put himself in harm's way.

As the day wore on and evening approached, Williams continued his surveillance, his eyes rarely leaving the screens. The quiet hum of electronics filled the van, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. He knew that his role was to observe and report, not to intervene, yet he couldn't help but wish for Iida's safety.

"Be careful, kid," Williams whispered to no one in particular, his voice barely audible over the din of his equipment. "You're not alone in this fight."

With a final glance at the monitors, Williams prepared himself for a long night of coffee-fueled vigilance.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of their first day at various internships, the group chat featuring Midoriya's friends came to life with a flurry of notifications.

"Guys! 🌟 Gunhead complimented my melee skills!" Uraraka's text bubbled with excitement, setting a vibrant tone for the conversation.

Tokage responded with, "💪 Grl Pwr!"

Yaoyorozu was next to congratulate her. "Well done, Ocha!"

Her next response was more measured. "Today was about strategizing and resource management with Fatgum. His approach to Hero work is quite fascinating and insightful."

Tokage was quick to follow, "Quite a day for me! Never stopped moving from one situation to the next. 🏃 ️💨"

Her enthusiasm was matched by Tsunotori's lighthearted complaint, "Trying to understand all the Japanese Hero lingo is harder than I thought! 😂"

Hatsume's text was quick and in-character. "May have blwn up dvlpmnt std. All good tho👍" Another text from eccentric genius popped in, "Thx for the playdium, Yaomomo! Super baby is alive and well!"

Hatsume's gratitude was received from the heiress. "That's good to hear, Hatsume. I am happy to help 💗"

Kaminari kept the mood light, "Jump-started a down transformer today. Sparky day! " His pun intended to draw laughs, which it undoubtedly did not.

Ashido added her own colorful experience, "Got to use my acid against fake villains in training. So. Much. Fun! " Her joy was almost palpable through the screen.

Kirishima's text was short and to the point, "Hardened my resolve and my quirk today. No Villain's breaking through this! 💪"

Jiro and Sero shared insights into their own days, with Jiro noting, "Used my quirk for reconnaissance. The power of sound! 🎶" and Sero adding, "Used my tape to swing around town with Air Jet. Stickiness is key!"

Todoroki responded, his message reflecting his candid nature. "Spent the day patrolling with Endeavor. It was surprisingly insightful."

Asui's practical nature shone through in her message, "Learned about basic water rescue operations. Mostly grunt work today…"

Sero replied to her, "Don't feel bad, Tsu. It's only the first day. I'm sure things will pick up for you."

"First name basis, eh? 👀" Tokage teased.

Sero quickly responded, "I mean…Tsu says we can call her that."

"Sero." Asui texted.

"Yes?"

A few ellipses followed before the response came through, "Kero. 🐸"

"😠"

The chat buzzed with their shared excitement and more teasing at Sero's expense until Yaoyorozu shifted the focus, "Has anyone heard from Izuku today?" Her concern echoed silently in the virtual space.

Uraraka, equally concerned, added, "I haven't. Izuku, are you still busy? 👀 ❓"

Moments passed and no response came from him.

Todoroki responded, "He's probably still busy."

Uraraka replied, "Still? At this hour? Izuku don't ignore us!"

Iida's text followed, a bit of sternness in the tone, "I would let him be, Uraraka. If he isn't working, he's likely resting after a long day. We should not worry unduly. He'll reach out when he can."

Uraraka's text was short. "Ok… 😞"

"It's ok, Ocha!" Yaoyorozu tried to cheer her best friend up. "I'm sure Izuku is doing fine."

Minato, Japan

In the Roppongi district of Minato, Tokyo, the pre-dawn hours blanketed the city in a tranquil hush, interspersed with the faint sounds of life awakening. Towering majestically in this urban landscape was Might Tower, an emblem of luxury and power. Its most striking feature, a colossal golden globe adorned with dual rings, crowned the top of the skyscraper, glinting under the nascent morning light.

Might Tower, stretching skywards with over a hundred floors, was a beacon of modern architecture. Its sleek design and glass exterior mirrored the early rays of the sun, casting a serene glow in the quiet streets below. Known primarily as the headquarters of All Might's agency, occupying the upper echelons of the building, it also housed offices for numerous prestigious businesses. Even in these tranquil hours, Might Tower stood as a vigilant guardian, poised on the cusp of the city's daily hustle and bustle.

Inside the tower's spacious lobby, a lone security guard sat behind his desk on the ground floor. The guard, a man in his late forties with a slightly disheveled uniform, was engrossed in watching highlights of UA's Senior All-Star Games on a small screen.

"That Togata kid really is something else," he murmured under his breath, impressed.

His attention was abruptly diverted as a group of men entered through the glass doors. Their attire was uniform-worker boots, grey pants, grey collared shirts, and matching caps. One of the men, distinguishable by his robust build and striking red beard streaked with gray, carried a large silver briefcase in his left hand–which appeared to be made of metal plating.

"Well, well. You guys are getting an early start today…" the guard commented, a hint of surprise in his voice. He squinted at them, trying to place their faces. "Wait. Are you a new cleaning crew?"

The red-bearded man, who appeared to be the leader of the group, responded with a nonchalant tone, "S'right. Don't worry about us."

"Well the job says I kind of have to." The security guard stood up, holding a tablet for identification verification. "IDs, please?" he asked, his tone indicating that it was more a requirement than a request.

"Sure," the leader said, his voice calm. Suddenly, with a swift movement, he pulled out a pistol equipped with a silencer from his back pocket, pointing it directly at the guard.

"Wha–? NO!" the guard exclaimed, shock and fear evident in his voice.

Without a hint of remorse in his hazel eyes, the man pulled the trigger twice. The sound was barely audible, but the effect was lethal. The guard slumped down, lifeless.

"Okay, Honda, get in position," the red-bearded man ordered. Honda, a nondescript man with an intense gaze, dragged the dead guard away, preparing to don his uniform and assume his post at the desk.

"The rest of you, with me." His men, a group of robust individuals clad in nondescript gray work uniforms, followed him to the elevators.

One of the men voiced his confusion, "I still don't understand why we need over two dozen guys for this operation, Baker."

"Yeah," another chimed in. "All Might hasn't been here for a while since he took that teaching gig at UA. Doubtful he'd suddenly show up today."

"All Might isn't the concern," the red-bearded leader, known as Baker, replied, his voice stern, "But if you don't think SHIELD isn't going to try and get back what we stole, you're kidding yourselves."

Another member of the group scoffed, "That's ridiculous. They couldn't possibly know where it is."

"Fine. I'm ridiculous." Baker's tone was laced with sarcasm as they reached the elevator. The group crowded in, the briefcase still firmly in his grip. "Next stop…the All Might department."

Later, as the elevator doors slid open with a muted hiss, Baker and his men stepped out into a quiet, dimly lit hall and entered Might Tower's All Might department, a golden All Might statue was visible in the background.

"Fan out," he ordered gruffly. "Make sure there's no one else here." His men dispersed with practiced efficiency.

One of them, with a hint of skepticism in his voice, muttered, "Still paranoid about SHIELD?"

Ignoring the comment, Baker approached the unoccupied receptionist desk, his steps echoing in the deserted space. He carefully placed the silver briefcase on the desk and opened it with deliberate movements. "It's like the old joke: just 'cause you're paranoid…"

"Doesn't mean they're not out to get you, yeah, I know," he finished, rolling his eyes slightly.

Baker removed several layers of insulated packaging from the case, revealing its contents—a small glass vial filled with a swirling purple liquid. He held it up to the light, examining it with a mixture of awe and reverence.

"Incredible," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the vial. "Hard to believe the contents in this little tube can change the world."

A short moment of silence followed as the men contemplated the potential havoc contained within the glass.

"Well, we're here. Now what?" the younger man asked, breaking the silence.

"Now, we wait," Baker replied, his tone ominous. "We wait for the day to start. We wait for Might Tower to be filled with thousands of people." His red brows furrowed as he carefully placed the vial back into the case. "And then we release the Zodiac. How fitting that the Symbol of Peace's headquarters will be ground zero to herald in a new era."

In the stillness of the SHIELD helicopter cabin, tension hummed through the air, palpable and thick. Captain Midoriya sat rigid, his face set in a mask of silent frustration, hands clenched tightly. The quiet whir of the helicopter blades slicing through the air did little to distract from the weighty purpose of their mission. Across from him, Romanoff observed his demeanor with a keen eye, her experience as a spy telling her there was more beneath the surface of his stoic facade.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" Romanoff's voice cut through the cabin's hum, sharp yet not without a hint of genuine concern.

Midoriya's eyes met hers, a storm brewing within them. "The item we're after... It shouldn't exist anymore," he admitted, the words heavy with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "SHIELD should have destroyed all of it. The entire world's safety is in jeopardy."

Romanoff's expression was measured. "...I'm sure they had their reasons. In any case, this is why you are here. Situations like this require... special attention."

The cabin fell into silence again, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a dense fog. It was Brock who broke the quiet, his voice coming from the cockpit. "Widow, we're approaching your designated drop-off zone."

Acknowledging with a slight nod, Romanoff turned her attention back to Midoriya. "Before you go, why 'Black Widow'?" he inquired, a trace of curiosity breaking through his concern.

She offered him a small, enigmatic smile, the kind that hinted at stories untold. "Let's just say it suits my particular set of skills," she said, her tone light but her eyes guarded, revealing nothing more.

Midoriya, seizing a moment of levity amidst the tension, ventured a jest. "So, it has nothing to do with your Quirk? Should I be on the lookout for any...unexpected dietary preferences?"

Romanoff's smirk widened, amusement flickering in her eyes for a split second. "No," she quipped back, "that's reserved for those who truly get on my bad side."

"Got it, avoid becoming dinner," Midoriya retorted, the brief exchange offering a momentary reprieve from the mission's gravity.

"And you?" she countered, eyes flickering over his uniform. "Why not wear the new costume you brought from UA?"

Midoriya exhaled, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Staying undercover," he explained. "If someone were to see me wearing that and recognize me, it would put an end to my time at UA, not to mention draw unwarranted attention to our operation here."

Romanoff's gaze softened slightly, her posture relaxing as she leaned back. "I've been wondering, the First Hero attending a hero academy," she mused aloud, "Why?"

Midoriya's expression turned thoughtful, a distant look in his eyes. "I've missed a lot," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "UA is my way of catching up, of understanding this era... and keeping a promise to someone very special."

For a moment, Romanoff studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, as the signal light blinked, indicating they were nearing her drop-off point, she stood, adjusting her gear. "Well, this is my stop. Make sure to follow the others' lead, intern," she teased, a rare flicker of amusement crossing her features.

Midoriya rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the wry smile that crossed his face in response. "Ha-ha..." he retorted, the tension from earlier dissipating slightly.

As Romanoff made her exit, Midoriya watched her go, the weight of the mission settling back onto his shoulders.

On the ground floor, Honda, the man who had assumed the role of the fallen security guard, was lounging behind the front desk. He casually flicked through the dead guard's tablet, his eyes landing on the highlights of the All-Star Games.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with a bunch of kids using their powers on each other?" Honda muttered to himself, his voice laced with disdain. "Real sports died long ago…"

His attention was abruptly drawn away from the tablet by the sound of coughing. Honda looked up to see a man in a brown leather trench coat stumbling into the lobby. The man was clutching his throat, coughing intermittently.

"Hey there! I'm," the man paused, erupting into another bout of coughs, "looking for the Tokyo Dome."

Honda, unimpressed, replied dryly, "Well, it's obviously not in here, gaijin."

The man, still coughing, edged closer to the desk. "Oh, sure. I know that."

Honda's suspicion grew. He slowly stood up, his hand inching towards the pistol concealed in his back pocket. "I think you'd better head back out."

The man feigned hurt, coughing again. "You'd talk that way to a tourist?"

Honda's patience wore thin. "Yeah, that's it. You're heading out right n–"

Before he could finish his sentence, a disk whizzed through the air, striking him squarely in the head with a loud clang. The force of the impact sent Honda collapsing to the ground, unconscious. The disk ricocheted off the ceiling and returned to the hand of its thrower.

"Nice bit of acting work, Rumlow," Captain Midoriya praised, speaking in English.

Clad in his SHIELD-exclusive costume, Captain Midoriya stood tall and confident. His attire, while reminiscent of his original UA Alpha costume, now showcased a striking shift in its color palette. The dominant dark green had given way to a dark navy blue, lending the suit a more subdued yet equally commanding presence.

The chest emblem, once a 3D white and red star, had been simplified to a stark, plain white star, resonating with the suit's streamlined aesthetic. Complementing this change, his gloves and utility belt were crafted from a rich leathered brown, adding a touch of ruggedness to his ensemble. The boots, formerly a vibrant red, had transformed into a deep blue, seamlessly blending with the suit's overall color scheme.

Integrated into this new attire was his helmet, no longer a separate piece but an extension of the suit itself. It wrapped around the back of his neck, offering enhanced protection without sacrificing mobility or comfort. Unlike his last helmet though, there was a bold white 'A' emblazoned in the front.

The shield, Midoriya's iconic symbol of defense and resilience, had also received a makeover to align with his SHIELD attire. The outer and third rings sported a light blue hue, while the middle ring contrasted sharply in silver. At the heart of the shield, the central star mirrored the one on his chest – a segmented white star creating a 3D effect, encased within a dark navy circle that perfectly matched the suit's primary color.

"You know, I used to do some of that back in the day," Captain Midoriya commented, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

Rumlow, now fully geared in a dark gray Kevlar vest layered over a black, short-sleeved shirt, paired with black combat jeans and sturdy boots, offered a smirk in response. "Where do you think I learned it, Captain? During training, they used to show us old videos of your missions."

Captain Midoriya raised an eyebrow, amused yet intrigued. "Well, now it's time to show me what else they've taught you."

Rumlow's smirk widened as he made a pointed observation. "Funny you should say that, considering you're the intern here."

"Hilarious," Captain Midoriya replied, his tone laced with dry humor. Together, they made their way toward the elevators down the hall.

Captain Midoriya's expression turned grave. "We shouldn't even be here. These people—whoever they are—managed to steal the Zodiac from SHIELD," he said, his gaze fixed intently on Rumlow. "And that's after SHIELD claimed they didn't have it."

The elevator doors slid open, and the pair stepped inside.

"And now they don't." Rumlow casually retorted. "And we're gettin it back. Top floor, right?"

As the distinct chime of the arriving elevator cut through the tense silence, Baker instinctively tensed, his eyes darting toward the sound. "Positions, now!" he commanded, his voice laced with urgency. This wasn't a part of the morning routine, not at this hour. An elevator in use now only spelled trouble.

At his command, his men raised their weapons, aiming at the elevator doors with grim determination. The moment the doors began to part, they unleashed a barrage of gunfire, expecting to neutralize any threat swiftly. Yet, what met their attack wasn't flesh and blood but an impromptu barricade that seemed to defy all logic.

"What in the—Is that bone?" one of the assailants gasped, disbelief coloring his tone as he witnessed the bullets clink harmlessly off the solid barrier.

Then, as if to answer their unspoken questions, the barricade morphed, sending out bone-like protrusions that struck with the precision and force of spears. The gunmen hit were sent flying, their weapons clattering to the floor.

The barrier lowered, revealing Rumlow, grinning at the disarray before him, and Captain Midoriya, his expression focused and unyielding. Baker's grip tightened on the briefcase, recognizing the turn of the tide.

One terrorist muttered under his breath, "Guess paranoia paid off, boss..."

But Baker was already in motion, his command slicing through the air, "Take them down!"

As the remaining terrorists realigned their aim towards the new threats, one man pulled out throwing knives from his vest and threw them at Rumlow and Midoriya. The Captain, shield at the ready, deflected the incoming projectiles with ease while Rumlow conjured another bone barricade, sheltering them from the hail of gunfire.

Rumlow, ever the combatant, quipped amidst the chaos, "Talk about hostile reception."

Captain Midoriya, catching sight of the knife-man preparing for another attack, called out, "The knife thrower!"

"Leave him to me. You take on the others," Rumlow quickly responded, a plan already forming in his mind.

With that, the Captain sprang into action. With a swift motion, he hurled his shield, its path calculated to incapacitate. The shield struck true, knocking out one assailant then another in a seamless ricochet before embedding itself into the wall, a testament to the precision behind the throw.

Captain Midoriya then found himself facing off against four terrorists, each one armed and dangerous. But the disparity in numbers did little to deter him. If anything, it seemed to amuse him. "Four to one. Odds seem a little unfair...to you," he quipped, his eyes scanning his opponents with a calm determination.

As the terrorists raised their guns to fire, the enhanced man acted with lightning speed. He lunged forward, seizing the wrists of the nearest gunman. With a swift twist, he forced the gunman to drop his weapon. His martial arts training, combined with his super-soldier enhanced strength, made him a formidable foe. One by one, he disarmed and took down the terrorists, his movements a blur of precision and power.

With the knife-thrower as his assigned target, Rumlow darted forward, intent on neutralizing the unique threat he posed. "Nice skewers," Rumlow commented dryly as he eyed the sharp weapons protruding from the mutant's body.

The knife-wielder, undeterred by the comment, prepared to throw several more knives at Rumlow. But Rumlow was far from ordinary. While sidestepping the knives, with hands armored in bone, a manifestation of his own Quirk, he caught one of the blades thrown at him with an ease that belied the danger of the situation.

"If I were slower, or maybe incompetent," Rumlow continued, his voice laced with a taunting edge as he held the captured blade between his bone-armored fingers. The assailant, taken aback by Rumlow's skill, hesitated for a moment—a moment that proved fatal.

With a swift motion, Rumlow hurled the knife back at its owner. The sharp projectile struck the man directly in the throat, silencing him instantly. "I might be worried," Rumlow finished his sentence, his tone unchanged even as he watched the terrorist collapse.

Baker watched from a distance, calculating, as Midoriya and Rumlow dismantled his team's efforts with a mix of raw power and strategic defense; his grip tightening on the briefcase. "Impressive. Though I wasn't aware that SHIELD had a Captain America knockoff in its ranks," he sneered, a mocking tone in his voice. "So tell me, Captain...How did you know we were here?"

Midoriya, just as he knocked out another assailant with a solid right hook, briefly turned his attention to Baker. "A little bird told me. I think you may know her," he retorted, his eyes locking onto Baker with an unwavering gaze.

Baker's confidence faltered for a moment, his eyes widening in shock. "Impossible. There's no-" His protest was cut short as the sound of shattering glass filled the lobby. In a dramatic entrance, the rest of the STRIKE Team swung into action, breaking through the windows and landing with precision and their weapons drawn.

Among them, Baker recognized one figure in particular. "Audrey?! But you were with us for weeks!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"It's Natasha, actually. Audrey was my cover name," Romanoff corrected him, her voice devoid of any warmth. Without missing a beat, she drew her twin pistols, aiming them directly at Baker. "And your 401K plan was no good," she quipped before pulling the trigger, unleashing a barrage of bullets.

In a desperate attempt to shield himself, Baker raised his right arm to protect his head, the bullets ricocheting off his forearm. The fabric of his shirt tore apart under the assault, revealing his body was not merely flesh. Thick, gunmetal-gray plating covered his skin, a defense mechanism that his Quirk provided him–making him more than a match for conventional weapons.

As the bullets harmlessly deflected off his metallic body, Baker used the briefcase as a shield to protect his head. "Natasha, then," he acknowledged with a grudging respect. "You do realize that breaking the Zodiac's tube could spell disaster for us all?"

Romanoff paused, her pistols aimed but no longer firing, especially not at the briefcase. Baker's warning had given her pause, but only momentarily.

"If you want this case, you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers," Baker taunted, his tone defiant.

Romanoff's gaze was steely, unflinching. "That won't be a problem," she countered, her voice cool as she prepared to advance, aiming for a lethal shot.

But Baker was quicker than she anticipated. In a swift move that belied his bulky appearance, he snatched Romanoff by the throat, his metal fingers constricting around her neck. Lifting her into the air with ease, his grip was unyielding.

"Actually, it may be more of a problem than you are willing to admit." Baker sneered, holding Romanoff aloft, her feet dangling as she struggled against his iron grasp.

Amid the chaos, Captain Midoriya and the STRIKE Team efficiently took down the remaining assailants. Midoriya, utilizing his superior combat skills and enhanced abilities, dispatched his foes with ease.

What caught his attention, though, was the lack of Quirk usage among the terrorists. It struck him as odd—were they really all without Quirks? Given the criminals' relatively young age, it was highly unlikely they were Quirkless. Did that mean they were intentionally not using their Quirks?

In the midst of the skirmish, one of the fallen terrorists, fueled by a mix of desperation and vengeance, staggered to his knees. His eyes, burning with a vengeful glare, locked onto Midoriya. Crawling towards his discarded pistol, he grasped it firmly, his aim set on the hero in the navy suit. "Goodbye," he whispered, a mix of pain and resolve in his voice.

Rumlow, ever vigilant, noticed the imminent threat from across the room. With a swift motion, he commanded his Quirk, propelling several bone shards towards the terrorist. The shards found their mark, rendering the man motionless and causing the pistol to clatter harmlessly to the ground.

Captain Midoriya, alerted by the commotion, spun around just in time to witness the terrorist's defeat.

"Appreciated," he acknowledged, offering a nod of thanks.

"Just doing my part," Rumlow responded, his voice carrying a note of camaraderie, even as he prepared to alert Midoriya to another threat.

Before Rumlow could finish, Captain Midoriya activated a mechanism on his left arm. A blue light emanated from the device attached to the back of his shield, which then soared through the air, magnetically summoned back to its owner. Midoriya caught the shield with the ease of a seasoned warrior and launched it towards another assailant bearing down on them. The shield connected with a satisfying thud, sending the attacker sprawling unconscious to the ground.

"Caught that one too," Captain Midoriya said with a confident smile, ready for whatever came next.

As Romanoff struggled against Baker's literal iron grip, her situation seemed dire.

"Give it up, Natasha. You can't win th–" His taunt was cut short when a surge of electricity from her gold gauntlets jolted Baker's metallic body, causing a momentary lapse in his hold. Seizing the opportunity, Romanoff extricated herself from his grasp and, with precise agility, delivered a powerful kick to his face, forcing Baker to recoil and momentarily kneel.

"Seems we have different definitions of 'can't'," Romanoff quipped, her voice steady despite the altercation.

Fueled by rage and the sting of the shock, Baker retaliated with a furious swing of the briefcase, catching Romanoff off-guard and sending her reeling backward. "This ends now!" he declared, preparing to launch another, potentially fatal, assault with his reinforced limbs.

But before he could deliver the blow, Captain Midoriya intervened, slamming his shield into Baker with enough force to divert the imminent threat. "That's enough!" Midoriya commanded, his presence imposing a halt to Baker's advance. "That's as far as you go!"

Undeterred and with a wild glint in his eye, Baker turned his attention to the nearest exit—a window leading out into the open. "Oh, I don't think so, Captain." He mocked. "I intend to go much, much further. Courtesy of my personal parachute." He suddenly rushed for the window and propelled himself through the glass. "The Zodiac will herald a new era!"

"NO!"

Reacting instinctively, Midoriya secured his shield on his back harness and pursued the fleeing Baker, leaping through the shattered window!

As Captain Midoriya and Baker plummeted from Might Tower's upper echelons, the Captain managed to close the distance between them in the free fall. With a determined grasp, he caught hold of Baker, specifically targeting the parachute's ripcord.

"Give me the case!" he demanded, the wind whipping around them intensifying the urgency of his command.

Baker, caught in the grip of desperation and disbelief, retorted, "Are you insane?! Let go of my ripcord...We'll both die!"

Midoriya's resolve did not waver; if anything, Baker's reticence only steeled his resolve further. "Then we die having stopped you!" he declared, his voice cutting through the rush of air around them.

The gravity of the situation and Midoriya's unwavering determination dawned on Baker. Faced with the real possibility of death and the sheer lunacy of the moment, Baker capitulated. "Fine! Here, take it, you lunatic!" he relented, thrusting the briefcase into Midoriya's arms.

With the case securely in his grasp, Midoriya released Baker, allowing him to continue his descent. Moments later, Baker deployed his parachute, veering away into the safety of the morning sky.

Meanwhile, Captain Midoriya's own descent was abruptly halted. A cable, fired from above, wrapped securely around his left arm.

"Got him!" Rumlow's voice echoed from the broken window above, the source of the steel cable with a grappling hook on its end.

With expert handling, Rumlow retracted the cable, steadily pulling Captain Midoriya back up to the top floor of Might Tower, the briefcase still firmly in his grip. As his feet touched solid ground again, Midoriya offered his gratitude, "Good shot, Rumlow."

Rumlow, a smirk evident in his voice, responded, "Told you I learned from you."

Black Widow approached as the STRIKE Team efficiently restrained the subdued assailants, ensuring the area was under control. "Well done, Captain," she praised, scanning the vicinity for any sign of their main adversary. "Baker?" she inquired.

Captain Midoriya, his face etched with a blend of disappointment and resolve, responded, "Escaped."

Romanoff nodded, a semblance of understanding in her demeanor. "The primary objective was securing the target, which we achieved. We'll handle Baker in due course," she reassured.

Holding the briefcase aloft, Captain Midoriya turned to face her, his voice tinged with a hint of accusation. "SHIELD claimed this was destroyed. No one's told me why they lied about it."

Romanoff met his gaze, unflinching. "Declaring it destroyed was meant to deter any would-be seekers. It was a necessary deceit," she clarified.

He paused, considering her words, then began to walk away, briefcase in hand. "Clearly, someone wasn't deterred," he observed, his tone steady.

Romanoff watched him for a moment before responding, "Then it seems you'll need to remain vigilant, Captain."

Kamino Ward, Japan

In the subdued ambiance of a rundown bar, only the gentle sound of ice cubes clinking against the sides of a glass broke the silence. Shigaraki, alone with his thoughts, idly swirled his drink, a mixture of whiskey and ice, lost in contemplation. Kurogiri, his ever-reliable right-hand, had vanished into his signature mist to fetch a potential ally, leaving Shigaraki to his solitude. Despite the television being on mute, the static image on the screen served as a constant reminder that his actions were under scrutiny.

A sudden swirl of dark mist interrupted his reverie, drawing his attention to the entrance. Setting aside his drink, Shigaraki placed a chilling, severed hand against his face, finding a perverse comfort in its cold embrace. As the mist cleared, revealing Kurogiri's return, Shigaraki was presented with the sight of the infamous Hero Killer, Stain, in the flesh. The unmistakable scent of blood and death that clung to Stain was a clear indicator of the man's lethal nature. Observing his surroundings with a critical eye, it was apparent Stain was assessing the area for potential threats, his caution bordering on paranoia.

Shigaraki couldn't help but feel irked by Stain's excessive vigilance.

As he took in Stain's appearance, noting the combat-ready boots, the assortment of knives, and a mask that seemed eerily familiar, Shigaraki's train of thought was abruptly halted by Stain's voice. "So, you're the group responsible for the attack on UA...and you're considering me for your ranks. Why?"

Positioning himself casually against the counter, Shigaraki addressed Stain. Despite the boredom lacing his tone, he spoke with a measure of respect. "In that last attack, we tried to go with quantity over quality. Of course, it cost us in the end. Now, with all the trash in custody, it's obvious that it's quality that we need. And you, you're well known to us criminals. Your experience and knowledge would be a valuable asset to us."

Stain's response was measured, his gaze sharp as he deliberated over Shigaraki's proposition.

"What are your objectives? What do you hope to accomplish with your group?" Stain inquired, his voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

With a dismissive shrug, Shigaraki laid bare their ambitions. "Simple. Kill All Might. And kill everyone and everything that we don't like." He retrieved a photograph from behind the counter, showing Midoriya in his hero costume at the USJ incident, complete with a shield reminiscent of Captain America–only with a different color palate. Sliding the photograph across the counter, Shigaraki voiced his frustration. "Like this guy, for example. He ruined everything. If it weren't for him, we would have succeeded."

Stain scrutinized the photograph, his expression turning contemplative at the sight of Midoriya's costume. "The All-Star Champion...drawing inspiration from Captain America, it seems," he observed, a trace of respect in his voice for the young hero's choice.

Behind the hand over his face, Shigaraki rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Before, I was ready to kill this 'Yo Joe' on the spot…but now I'd like to have a word with him. If he rubs me the wrong way, he's done for. As simple as that," Shigaraki retorted dismissively. "And we'll kill the rest of that 101-A class while we're at it too."

Stain's expression darkened into a look of contempt. "Is that all? You aim to destroy what displeases you? That's hardly a mission; it's the tantrum of a petulant child."

Shigaraki's grip tightened on the counter, his nails threatening to leave indentations in the wood. "Excuse me?" he snapped, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

Stain shook his head, his disappointment palpable. "This meeting was a mistake. I had hoped to find a kindred spirit, but it's clear now you're solely bent on chaos. Without a righteous cause, your actions are meaningless—mere anarchy." With a deliberate motion, he touched the hilts of his knives, a silent threat. "I won't allow your corruption to spread further."

Standing abruptly, Shigaraki's demeanor darkened. "Oh, so you're on some moral high ground?" he challenged, disdain dripping from every syllable.

From the corner, Kurogiri exchanged wary glances with the computer screen. "Should I intervene, Supreme One? Our hopes for Stain guiding Tomura seem futile."

"No, let them be," came the reply from the unseen observer. "Tomura must carve his own path. This confrontation will be pivotal for his evolution."

Shigaraki bristled at the thought of another 'lesson.' He despised being treated as a pupil in need of guidance. Yet before he could protest, Stain acted, his movements a blur of precision and intent.

In one fluid motion, he slashed at Kurogiri, then turned his aggression towards Shigaraki, driving the blade into Shigaraki's shoulder. Pinning him into the floor, Stain quickly brought the right knife across his face, licking the blade as he did before he moved it to rest ominously against Shigaraki's neck.

"Dammit, Kurogiri, do something!" Shigaraki demanded, panic lacing his voice as he found himself at Stain's mercy.

Kurogiri, immobilized and voice strained, could only manage a weak, "I... I'm incapacitated. It's his Quirk."

Shigaraki's frustration boiled over. "This is f**king bulls**t!"

Peering down, Stain's gaze was cold, devoid of any empathy. "You and your ilk have diluted the essence of what it means to be a 'villain,' just as the 'heroes' of this era are but shadows of their former selves. You're all fodder, destined for obliteration."

Shigaraki, incensed, managed to grasp Stain's blade, his touch causing it to decay. "A creed? A symbol? Such antiquated ideals have no place in my world. The current society, with its misplaced admiration for figures like All Might, is what I seek to annihilate."

As the blade disintegrated, Stain retreated, evading Shigaraki's retaliatory strike. "I see," he mused, reassessing his stance. "Perhaps there's a semblance of a principle in your chaos after all."

Shigaraki, still seething, failed to conceal his confusion. Stain's unexpected acknowledgment did little to quell his anger, especially after being subjected to such a brutal test.

Kurogiri, recovering his faculties, interjected, "Does this mean you'll consider joining us?"

Shigaraki's glare intensified. "This alliance is repugnant to me."

Yet, the possibility of strengthening their ranks was undeniable. "It seems we've reached an accord, despite the...unpleasantness," Kurogiri concluded.

Stain's departure was swift, his final words leaving a lingering tension. "I'll be watching, child. Your path from here is yours to forge."

As Kurogiri vanished with Stain, Shigaraki was left to stew in his own turmoil, the encounter leaving a bitter taste of both potential and disdain.

Following Kurogiri and Stain's departure, Shigaraki grimaced, shifting uncomfortably back in his seat to find a momentary escape from the throbbing fresh wound in his shoulder. The silence that enveloped the room was suddenly broken by the distinct, resonating voice of All For One, offering a semblance of comfort and authority through the concealed speakers.

"Tomura, do not let this setback dishearten you. Every great leader faces trials that forge their resolve and hone their strength."

Shigaraki, with a strained voice tinged with frustration yet acknowledging the wisdom in his mentor's words, responded, "I understand, Master. It's just... aggravating. To be so close and yet thwarted by someone like him..."

"Patience, Tomura. Your injuries are but temporary obstacles. I will see to it that they are treated soon. Remember, the path to true power is laden with hardships, but it is these very trials that elevate us above the rest."

Shigaraki, nodding slightly, allowed a brief moment of vulnerability to show. "Thank you, Master. I... I won't let this deter me. I'll grow from it, as you say."

"That's the spirit. Have Kurogiri bandage that shoulder and rest. We have much to plan for."

With those words, the line went silent, leaving Shigaraki to ponder in the quiet, his resolve solidifying amidst the echoes of his master's assurance and the promise of vengeance and growth that lay ahead.

The creak of the door broke the silence, drawing Shigaraki's wary attention to a newcomer. The man, a foreigner with a distinct aura, entered the dimly lit bar, his presence igniting Shigaraki's curiosity and suspicion. "What do you want here?" Shigaraki demanded, his tone laced with hostility.

"Just looking to wet my whistle," the stranger responded in fluent Japanese, his voice rough and carrying a note of weariness. His gaze swept across the nearly empty bar, a smirk playing on his lips as he detected the faint, unmistakable scent of blood—a scent that seemed all too familiar to him.

'Must've been a scuffle here,' Logan deduced.

Kurogiri then materialized behind the counter in a swirl of dark mist, much to Logan's moderate surprise. When Kurogiri noticed the newcomer, he inquired, "Tomura, who is this?"

"I dunno. He just walked in a few seconds ago."

Logan, mildly exhausted by the long bike ride, wearily replied, "I'm just here for a drink. Not looking for trouble."

Shigaraki's discomfort was palpable as he eyed the foreigner, his instinct telling him to eject the stranger from their midst. However, before he could voice his demand, Kurogiri leaned closer. "Despite our... unique clientele, we still present ourselves as a bar to the outside world. It would be imprudent to refuse service, especially on such an uneventful evening," he murmured, his voice as serene as the mist that swirled around him.

With a look of annoyance marring his features, Shigaraki relented, albeit reluctantly. "Alright, but make it fast," he muttered, his sharp gaze shifting away, a clear end to the matter in his eyes.

Logan, unable to hide a grin, had caught every word thanks to his acute senses. 'So, a villain's hideout masquerading as a bar,' he mused silently, amused by the notion.

Acknowledging Logan's presence with a courteous tilt of his head, Kurogiri set about crafting a beverage, his movements graceful and deliberate. "And what shall I get for you?" he asked, the ambient mist lending an ethereal quality to the mundane task of serving a drink.

Exhaling a tired breath, Logan settled into his seat, grateful for the semblance of normalcy. "A whiskey, neat," he answered, his brief eye contact with Kurogiri conveying his appreciation for the gesture of goodwill.

Moments later, after receiving his whiskey and enjoying a long sip, Logan's sharp eyes couldn't help but notice the wound marring Shigaraki's shoulder. "You've been roughed up a bit, huh?" he remarked casually, breaking the tense silence.

Shigaraki, irked by the unsolicited observation, shot back, "Mind your own business."

However, Logan's interest wasn't easily dissuaded by hostility. Before he could make any further comment, Kurogiri gracefully stepped in, aiming to smooth over the budding friction. "It's been a challenging day for him," Kurogiri offered, his tone calm and untroubled.

Logan let out a low chuckle, nodding. "I can tell," he said, amusement coloring his tone.

The conversation took a lighter turn as Kurogiri complimented, "Your Japanese is quite impressive."

"Thanks," Logan replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Japan's practically a second home to me."

Intrigued, Kurogiri inquired further, "What brings you to this part of town, if I may ask?"

"Just passing through," Logan answered, his voice gruff. "I tend to steer clear of the more crowded places. This... this is more my speed."

Kurogiri's curiosity was evident, a flicker of thoughtfulness crossing his features. "Ah, I see," he mused, considering the implications of Logan's preference for the shadows.

Shigaraki, growing impatient with the exchange, interjected with a note of command in his voice. "Enough with the chit-chat, Kurogiri. Just fix me up."

With a nod, Kurogiri efficiently retrieved a first-aid kit, his actions fluid and practiced. Logan watched with interest as Kurogiri tended to the wound as a silent observer.

After the makeshift treatment, Logan advised, "That wound needs proper care, bub. Stab wounds can be nasty."

Kurogiri acknowledged the concern but assured, "We have our ways of dealing with such injuries." Then, pausing, he added with a hint of suspicion, "And how did you deduce it was a stab wound?"

"Lucky guess," Logan said, his tone noncommittal but knowing.

Impatience growing, Shigaraki pressed, "Are you done?" His tolerance for the stranger thinning rapidly. "We're about to close soon."

Logan, sensing the rising hostility, couldn't resist a jab, "You like this with all your customers? No wonder you got stabbed."

That was the last straw for Shigaraki, who leaped to his feet, intent on confronting Logan directly. "Bastard!"

"Tomura!" Kurogiri's attempt to calm the situation fell on deaf ears.

"I think you've overstayed your welcome, gaijin," Shigaraki hissed, moving threateningly closer.

But Logan, ever alert, sensed the imminent danger.

SNIKT!

Three metallic claws suddenly sprung from his left fist, intercepting Shigaraki's reach. Locking eyes with Shigaraki, Logan issued a stern warning, "Easy there, bub. Wouldn't want to add to your troubles."

The tension in the air spiked, a clear line drawn between the two as Logan stood ready, his posture a clear warning.

Shigaraki's confidence didn't waver from the warning as a twisted grin crossed his face. "That's the thing, my troubles always have a way of…falling apart."

He moved to touch one of Logan's extended blades, fully expecting his Quirk to do its work and reduce it to nothing.

…

…

But, to his and Kurogiri's astonishment, nothing happened. The blade remained, unaltered and menacing.

Shigaraki's shock was palpable. "What the–?!" he began, but his exclamation was abruptly silenced as Logan's boot connected with his abdomen, sending him crashing to the ground with a thud.

Logan placed his glass back on the counter, eyeing the pained Shigaraki on the floor. 'Something about his touch...felt like death,' Logan mused internally, puzzled but unscathed.

"Tomura!" Kurogiri rushed to his leader's aid, worry lacing his voice.

Shigaraki, struggling to comprehend the failure of his Quirk, stared up at Logan, disbelief and anger swirling in his gaze. "Why didn't you decay?!"

Logan, unfazed by the tension, simply replied, "I'm built of sturdy stuff."

Shigaraki snarled. "You f**king piece of–"

Sensing the situation escalating, Kurogiri stepped in with a firm voice, "I must ask you to leave now, sir."

"Fine." With a grunt of acknowledgment, Logan withdrew his blades and rose to his feet, ready to depart the contentious scene. However, a glimpse of something on the floor caught his attention, prompting him to pause. He stooped to pick up a fallen photograph, and upon seeing its content, a look of recognition crossed his face.

'No way...' he thought, taken aback by the discovery.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki, still grappling with the unexpected failure of his Quirk, muttered under his breath, "This shouldn't be happening... My Quirk never fails..." His thoughts drifted to a previous encounter, one that had left a similar impression of frustration and disbelief. "Just like that green-haired bastard... His damn shield was immune too! How is that possible?!"

Logan's ears perked up at the mention of a shield and green hair, and his interest in the conversation deepened. Turning on his heel, he approached Shigaraki, holding the photograph of Midoriya up for him to see. "You're after this guy?" he inquired, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Shigaraki's response was terse and hostile. "What's it to you gaijin?"

A dry chuckle escaped Logan as he considered the situation. "Looks like I've walked into quite the story," he mused.

Kurogiri, observing the exchange, eyed Logan with a wary gaze. "And who might you be?" His tone was cautious, the underlying suspicion clear.

Logan leaned slightly forward, his gaze never wavering from the photograph he held. "The name's Logan. And coincidentally," he gestured with the photo of Midoriya, "I've been trying to track down this fellow myself."

Shigaraki, feeling the sting of his injuries lessening, shot a skeptical look towards Logan. "And why's that?" he prodded, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

With a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, Logan's demeanor shifted subtly, signaling the seriousness of his intent.

SNIKT!

His right hand clenched, and in response, three gleaming metallic blades emerged with a definitive sound, catching the dim light of the bar. "Let's just say I've got a few things to discuss with Mister Midoriya. And if I don't like his answers, well... he won't be around to give any more," Logan declared, his voice low and menacing.

Shigaraki, assessing Logan's resolve and sensing a potential ally in their shared animosity towards Midoriya, allowed a sinister smile to creep across his face. "Perhaps we started off on the wrong foot. Kurogiri, why don't you fix our guest another drink? On the house."

Logan retracted his claws, grinning, "Now you're speaking my language, bub."

A/N: Welp... That was unexpected. There's quite a bit to unpack in this chapter, but I do hope it was enjoyable.

The costume Izuku was wearing in this chapter was his exclusive SHIELD uniform. It looks exactly like the one worn in "The Winter Soldier" movie and in the comics. I did this because his new Beta Costume that he wears while attending UA will be different. It will be revealed in the next chapter.

For those wondering, Black Widow's appearance and voice are inspired by her portrayal in the show "Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes". Mainly because it's based more on the comics. Nothing against her MCU portrayal though.

Izuku's SHIELD mission was heavily inspired by the MCU Comic "Captain America: The Winter Soldier Prelude". Obviously, I changed some things here and there, but it's pretty much the same storyline since I didn't see much of a need to change too much.

In the next chapter, we'll see the aftermath of Izuku's mission as well as Izuku having a heated discussion with Fury. Additionally, Stain is on the move and Shigaraki intends to get payback…with the aid of a new unexpected ally.

Please leave any comments and critique in the review box below. Thank you for the support as always!